#( & those are the situations where you might see him exhale steam )

[erabundus]

today's  miscellaneous  ren  fact  of  the  day  —  i've  mentioned  before  that  his  equivalent  of  breathing  is  actually  part  of  a  cooling  function  meant  to  keep  his  inner  mechanisms  from  overheating  (  he  only  chooses  to  regularly  "breathe"  to  keep  up  appearances  )  but  that  isn't  all  that  it's  good  for.  his  voice  box  still  functions  much  like  a  human's  does,  which  means  in  order  to  SPEAK  he  needs  to  have  air.  if  you  cut  off  his  oxygen,  it  won't  cause  him  any  physical  harm  —  he'll  likely  just  get  mildly  annoyed  at  being  silenced.  it  also  means  he  isn't  able  to  talk  somewhere  he  can't  breathe;  underwater,  any  place  devoid  of  air. he can still survive in them, he just has to get creative with his gesturing.

[opossum-rights]

The Way Things Happen

After being caught in a villain attack, your life is intertwined with those of the aspiring heroes that saved you.

<< Next Part >>

Prologue: Word Count, 2k

You’d never thought it would happen to you.

That’s what they all say, isn’t it? Every evening the news broadcasts the latest villain attacks, and seeing the number of injured you can’t help but imagine what if you were involved in a situation like that. It’s only ever a brief hypothetical; being in your home makes the idea of danger seem so far away. There were times you felt scared by an attack, USJ and Hosu the most, but being a student in the business course neither really left much of an impact on you past moving into the dorms.

To put it simply, you’ve been lucky. With all the chaos in the city as of late, you nor your loved ones have ever been in so much as a minor accident.

You didn’t think you’d be the first.

…

“Good job today, kid,” says one of your supervisors. You jokingly huff at the nickname. You were the only business student able to land a work study position, so you were the youngest in the office by a sizable gap.

“Thank you, miss,” you reply, bowing your head as you pack your things.

“Need a ride?” She lives in an apartment building near yours, so there have been many times where she’s either picked you up or dropped you off. Everytime you say she doesn’t have to, but she insists. Her own kids have gotten to the age where they don’t need her to drive them around anymore and she misses the feeling. A sweet woman she is, looking out for you inside the office and out.

“Not this time, I have a couple errands to run.” You shrug on your coat, grab your scarf, and thank her for the offer.

“Alright then, just be careful. It’s late.” You assure her that you’ll be fine as you place your gloves on and walk out the main doors. She’s right, it’s already dark out.

It’s winter, the streets dotted with the occasional office worker just finished with overtime, yourself included. It’s the time when U.A. sends their students off to gain experience working in their field under the pros. You had gotten lucky, managing to land a spot with Best Jeanist’s PR team. You smile into the knitted scarf wrapped around your neck, still giddy at getting to work in the same building as the now 3rd ranked pro hero in the country. It isn’t everyday you see him, much less interact with him, but you know you made the right choice when he was there to personally welcome you and give you a tour of the main floor you’d be working on.

Taking a deep breath, you watch as the steam from your exhale fades into the air. You speed up to a light jog when your shop of choice comes into view. Stepping into the department store, you take a moment to soak in the heating as the doors close behind you. A small jingle plays signaling a customer, and a worker greets you. You politely smile back.

The harsh artificial lighting makes your eyes squint. Bringing a hand up to rub them, you’re suddenly thrown off balance, almost falling over but able to regain your footing.

“Don’t stand in the middle of the doors, dumbass.” You look up to see a man in a dark hoodie walk, more like stomp, in front of you. You stutter out an apology, but he only grunts in reply, turning away from you and moving behind a shelf. There was something about him that made you nervous. He looked almost scared, or erratic. You shake off the bad feeling in your stomach.

You try not to let your encounter sour your mood and make your way to the stationary aisle. The other workers at the agency sometimes poke fun at you for your taste in stationery, but you say that if every pen works the same you might as well pick one that’s nice to look at. You stand by this sentiment even if you can feel your wallet get a little tighter with each pack of star-shaped highlighters.

You spend your time browsing the selection, taking notes of any brands showcasing deals or collabs. No matter how unnecessary it is, you’ll buy it if it’s cute enough. A ceramic container catches your eye, pastel and polka dotted it would be perfect as a pencil holder. You take it in a gloved hand.

The aisle you’re in is on the other side of the store from the checkout area, which is why you weren’t able to hear what was happening. Where you can’t see, the man in the dark hoodie quietly threatens a cashier, telling her he’ll hurt her if she doesn’t give him all the money in the registers. She tries to stay calm, and buys time while she presses the panic button, alerting nearby heroes that there’s a situation. He gets angry, pulling out a knife and thrusting it out. That’s when you become aware that something’s very wrong.

A high-pitched shriek sounds out from a worker; a harsh wince causes you to drop the container. It breaks into small chunks as it hits the ground. You curse under your breath as you instinctively bend to clean it up.

“Shut up!” A man roars. The same man that you ran into when you first arrived, you recognize his voice. He sounds furious. You freeze, letting the piece of ceramic you had between your fingers fall to the floor.

“Please, sir-“ Another worker tries to calm him down. You can hear other customers in the store rush for the exit. You can’t bring yourself to do the same.

“Nobody moves!” You assume he has some kind of weapon, most of the footsteps stop and some people let out gasps. You can hear a kid muffle her cries from an aisle over. The beat of your heart sounds in your ears, and you can’t make your legs move. Still crouched to the floor, you focus your eyes on your shaking hands.

Someone yells out, causing you to realize it’s not only your hands shaking. You’d assume it was an earthquake if it wasn’t for the cracks splitting the floors and moving up the walls. It’s his quirk, someone must have done something to set him off.

This breaks you out of your trance. You stand up, one hand grasping a shelf as you struggle to keep your balance. It only gets worse. Items are thrown to the floor and displays are knocked over as people scramble for safety.

You try the same, making your way to the nearest exit sign. The man knocks it up another notch, making it hard to stand at all. You reach out to catch yourself on the wall, but it isn’t enough.

You fall onto your back, hitting your head on the ground hard enough to stun you for a moment. You grunt in pain, waiting for the ringing to fade back into clattering metal and screaming. Lifting yourself into a sitting position, you only see a glimpse of the shelf to your side as it falls right onto your left leg.

Your mouth opens to let out an agonized scream, but you can’t force out any audible noise. It’s broken; your nerves feel like they’ve been lit on fire. The pain makes you dizzy, forcing you to lie down. Trying to move it would be pointless, only causing more harm. There’s no way you’re going to be able to push such a dense metal object. You feel disconnected from it all.

Head spinning, you try to think back to your first aid classes. All U.A. students were required to take them, no matter the course. It doesn’t even occur to you that everything taught is virtually useless if you’re the severely injured one. You’re not a hero, you’re just a regular person. This shouldn’t be happening to you.

The shock of what’s going on makes you feel sick, dizzy, nauseous. The pain in your leg is so sharp that it dulls all your other senses. You’re in shock, and can only lay there helplessly as the cracks in the walls grow bigger and move up to the ceiling. You can’t even process the building growing darker as lights crash onto the floor, as do pieces of the ceiling. One must’ve fallen on the same shelf on top of you, as the pain reignited something fierce.

Your vision fades in and out while you try to gasp for breath. The sound of the building rumbling turns so severe that you know it’s about to collapse, and you pray that you pass out before it does. An explosion rings out, and you go limp.

You’d never thought it would happen to you.

…

It’s only light that you see, vague shadows moving in and out of your vision. You can’t hear, can’t feel, can’t move. There’s someone above you, that much you can make out. Your head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton, and slowly your hearing comes back. You’re only able to make out vague sounds, not the specifics of what they are. He’s yelling at something, not helping your head pain in the slightest. All of a sudden there’s another figure making its way into your vision. They’re yelling at each other, at least the first one is.

Gazing up at them you try to focus your vision. It doesn’t help much. You can make out that the first boy is wearing oddly shaped accessories on his lower arms and that the other has white and red hair. In the back of your head, something tells you that this isn’t the first time you’ve seen them, but you’re still too out of it to remember from where.

You can slightly feel someone grab one of your wrists. You glance over to see a head of green. The boy sees you’re looking at him and turns to the others to tell them something. They all turn to you. The loud one shouts over his shoulder, gesturing to you.

It starts to get overwhelming when more people arrive and start moving you around. You whimper, using your hand to grab the green-haired boy’s. He stills for a moment. Gently, he takes your hand between both of his, stroking the back of it. His lips are moving, but you can’t tell what he’s saying.

You’re being lifted up. It frightens you and you try to move but can’t. The boy must see how scared you are. He holds onto you as he stands to follow. He stays with you as they place you into a bright, loud, vehicle. The harsh attack on your senses causes you to fade in and out. You don’t know it, but he doesn’t let go until your eyes close and don’t reopen.

…

The evening news tells the story of a robbery gone wrong. None dead, but several injured. Though most had managed to escape the building before it collapsed. The perpetrator was captured by none other than the current number one hero Endeavor, off hours but just happened to be nearby with the U.A. students he’s mentoring. You almost got to meet him, shame you were in shock and being rushed to the hospital.

You had the most severe injuries, fortunately or unfortunately depending on how you see it. A couple of broken bones in your left leg and foot, a pretty bad concussion, and a fractured rib or two. You needed some surgeries, a couple weeks stuck in the hospital, and even longer stuck in a cast.

Once you came to and lightened up on the painkillers enough to think, you figured out where you knew the boys who saved you from. You saw them all do well at the sports festival and put on a performance with their class in the culture festival. The three first-year hero students with the most potential for the top, they say.

You should thank them sometime.

[queenshelby]

Roommates – Part Three

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 2,375

Warning: Smut

Note: This plays in 2020. Please interact. Your interactions and comments mean a lot to me.

It was seven o’clock in the morning and you were stretched out on your bed, your hands exploring your own soft skin while a vibrator pulsated inside of your wet centre. The cold morning air drew through the open window of your bedroom, preventing you from sweating as you pleasured yourself with your favourite toy.

This had become a common occurrence over the past four months. You were sex deprived and bored, spending your days and nights in lockdown.

Restrictions had recently been tightened and a curfew was imposed for the whole of Dublin as cases surged in the area.

The only reasons you were now allowed to leave your house were for exercising, medical appointments and grocery shopping.

If this wasn’t bad enough, your masturbating mind had been on your best friend and roommate Cillian for the past month which meant that, every time this vibrator was inside of you, you thought about him.

He had always been your shadow, or you were his, depending on what you were doing or who else you were with. You had a strong friendship and you never thought that you would ever be attracted to this man, not even when you both went into detail about having sex with whoever you happened to be dating.

You could hear that, in the room besides you, which was the downstairs bathroom, Cillian had just finished having a shower after his early morning run. His showers were always long, at least 15 minutes or so and the thought of him inside the steamy bathroom completely naked turned you on even more.

As usual, Cillian left the bathroom window open so that the steam from the shower could escape, but this didn’t bother you. You never thought that he could hear you from inside the hot and steamy bathroom but, clearly, you were wrong.

Just as Cillian stepped out of the shower and applied his face cream, he could hear a quiet buzzing sound from your room coupled with some soft whimpers and moans.

The sounds you were making caused Cillian to exhale sharply and it didn’t take long for him to notice his erection grow again even though he had just relieved himself in the shower.

‘Fuck’ he huffed out to himself before he slid off the towel and let it drop to the floor.

He knew exactly what you were doing and his mind immediately began to get creative.

As more moans left your lips, his hand worked its way slowly up and down his shaft, coating it with the precum that was leaking from him like a faucet.

A shallow grunt escaped his lips as he continued to listen to you while, at the same time, your free hand, the one not moving the vibrator in and out of your glistening pussy, moved from your nipple to your clit, making furious circles.

Cillian now even started to hear your breathing, becoming loud and laboured and his own hand quickened to meet your tempo.

Then, suddenly, you came and, with a writhing body, clenched tight around the vibrator as an almost gruntal moan fell from your lips. That was all Cillian needed to hear to cum himself.

After you turned off the vibrator and your breathing had come back to normal, you could hear him next door through the open window and the thin walls.

He was panting and, innocently, you thought that, clearly, he had the same idea as you, seeking release in the early hours of the morning.

Hearing him like this made you horny all over again and, whilst Cillian leaned against the vanity with his cock in his hand, pumping it towards his own orgasm, you listened in with delight.

As he drove himself closer and closer to the edge, Cillian was salivating at the thought of your hard nipples in his mouth. He wanted to nip at them, to tease you until you begged him to touch you, to taste you, to fuck you.

His hand was working with a mind of its own, his own brain completely overrun with pictures of you. It did a pretty good job of putting him in those pictures with you, too. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew he should stop. But he was powerless to stop masturbating now.

Fantasising about you, he could almost believe that he was holding on to your curvaceous ass and plowing his straining cock into your wet slit over and over again. It was these thoughts exactly which, eventually, made him cum hard.

With a loud groan, he exploded and his cum shot onto the tiled floor in several spurts until he massaged the last of it out of his cockhead and onto his thighs.

God, this man sounded delightful when he orgasms and you could just picture the mess he made in the bathroom which, ironically, turned you on even more.

***

It wasn’t until twenty minutes later that you saw Cillian in the kitchen, making coffee and, when you approached him, you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed about having heard him masturbate.

Little did you know, that Cillian felt exactly the same and none of his acting skills were able to hide his flushed cheeks.

Fortunately for you, the awkwardness between you ended rather abruptly when your sister called to enquire how you were and you spent at least twenty minutes on the phone with her.

After your telephone conversation with your sister, Cillian and you spent the day as usual. You took his dog for walk together, played computer games together and cooked together.

‘We are like an old couple which doesn’t leave the house and sleeps in separate bedrooms’ you joked as lockdown life with Cillian felt exactly like that.

But, the truth was that, there was no person you would rather have been in lockdown with other than Cillian as, most days, you made this situation as much fun as you possibly could.

Luckily, you both were fascinated by literature and Cillian would frequently read to you while you both sat on the lounge and drank some wine.

Other nights, you watched movies while you had some pizza and beers. Then, a couple of nights per week, you would even get out the boardgames. Although, you struggled beating Cillian at Scrabble. He had a large vocabulary of words no one ever heard of and you constantly accused him of making them up until Google proved you otherwise.

When you were tipsy, you would even get out the Twister board which, clearly, was a game in which you had an advantage after having been doing Yoga for 20 years.

***

But, tonight, wasn’t such a night and you were almost perfectly sober when Cillian returned from the basement, which was a room of the house you no longer decided to visit after last weeks’ incident.

As Cillian walked into living room, he found you sprawled on the couch in the near dark with only the flickering light of the TV illuminating the room.

‘Common, your favourite show is on’ you joked and with Cillian’s dog taking up one entire lounge, there were no other places for Cillian to sit but next to you.

To your surprise, he pressed himself as deep into the corner of the couch as he could, but of course your smooth, lean legs still stretched across his lap as usual.

You had your suspicions about what he was doing in the basement and, sure enough, you weren’t wrong.

Even through the thick denim on his legs, the warmth of your body pressed against his was enough to revive his aching manhood once again, and despite how vividly he imagined oozing surgical wounds, it would not abate and he hoped desperately that you wouldn’t notice.

As you were too focused on the show, Cillian tried to shift your legs towards his knees and as far away from his crotch as possible without knocking you off of his lap altogether, but you mistook his touch for something else.

‘It still hurts you know?’ you chuckled innocently as you thought that Cillian was offering you a massage.

Whilst this might sound odd to some, it wasn’t for you and Cillian and, after you had just moved into his house, he had given you a few innocent massages after you hurt your foot and leg with some of the moving boxes and weren’t able to see your physio due to the restrictions.

Knowing that it was a massage that you were after, Cillian sat there, frozen, not knowing what to do. His mind had not been working the same over the past few weeks when it came to being around you and this was a problem. Him touching you was no longer innocent in his own mind.

But, you snapped his attention back by drubbing your legs against his, bringing them precariously close to his ever-growing erection. He looked down at your tan limbs and was mortified to realise that he had misbuttoned his jeans in the basement, leaving an ample window to his brief-clad erection.

Cillian knew that he had to act fast to prevent you from looking at him too closely and, luckily, the room was pretty dark.

Without words, Cillian grabbed your leg and started massaging, kneading and stroking the lean muscles of your calf. Your skin felt like silk. Had it always been so soft? So smooth? Cillian asked himself for the millionth time that night how he hadn't noticed these things before.

‘Oh god so much better’ you eventually huffed out but you couldn’t help but feel a little tingling sensation build up in between your legs.

Whilst you enjoyed Cillian’s touch, even more than you used to, you thought about pulling away from his warm and masculine hands when you noticed that your panties were getting rather moist.

This never happened to you before when Cillian touched you and, whilst you felt somewhat embarrassed, you realised that there was no way for him to notice your arousal.  

As such, you chose to make the most of it and sighed contentedly before scooting further down the couch to allow him access to more skin. As you did, your tank top caught against the cushion underneath you and pulled up, exposing your flat stomach all the way to just under where there should be a bra.

Was there a bra? he couldn't tell without staring even more desperately than he had already. Swallowing hard, Cillian forced his gaze away from the tempting skin and cotton-covered mounds beyond. Instead of moving upwards, like he desperately wanted to, he shifted his hands and attention to your bare and perfectly pedicured feet.

Just as Cillian began to massage your aching foot gently, the show you were watching finished and you handed him the remote control and asked him to pick something else.

He thought about the least sexiest thing to watch and somehow ended up on The Simpsons in the hope that this would bring down his raging erection which he, by now, thought he would need to live with for the rest of the pandemic.

‘Cartoons? That's what you're in the mood for?’ you giggled as your feet kneaded his legs inadvertently, your toes dangerously close to the gaping hole in Cillian’s jeans. You always had fidgety legs and certainly didn’t notice what you were doing.

By this point, Cillian thought he was going to pass out. He closed his eyes and leaned back before resuming to massage your foot again.

‘Anything mindless will be grand’ he huffed out, trying to picture his mother in a swimsuit.

‘Mm-hm. Whatever you want, just keep up with the magic fingers’ you chuckled but all Cillian heard in his mind was, 'keep touching and do whatever you want to me'. Good god, how was he going to get through much more of this he wondered?

‘Mmm...that's really nice, Cilly. Go higher’ you said as the pain shifted to your lower calf and your mind was in a trance.

Cillian was struggling to take any more of this and your suggestive language didn’t help to bring down his hard cock.  He was trying to keep his hands as far in the safe-zone as possible, but he couldn't stop his hands from moving back up your calves.

The large flat-screen in front of you both was flickering and after Cillian handed the control back to you, you had found something to watch, but despite staring right at it, Cillian couldn't have told you what was on the screen.

He was surprised when he realised that his hands were working the backs of your knee. Usually, you were ferociously ticklish, yet you hadn't said a word.

Cillian’s eyes roved over your long legs, across the plateau of your flat stomach, and stopped at the hills of your full breasts. You weren’t wearing a bra; he could clearly see your nipples and nipple piercings distending the thin cotton of your tank.

Unbeknownst to Cillian, you certainly didn't mind how he was touching you and desperately wanted his hands to wander even further up your legs. Your pussy was throbbing by that point.

Then, finally, when Cillian’s hands slowly moved to the zone just above your knee; you inhaled sharply. Good god, you wanted him right then and there and little did you know that Cillian wanted you just as much.

Then, all of a sudden, a sense of self-control overcame him. Or was it the fact that his raging erection had become painful, straining against the fabric? He needed to adjust his throbbing cock like he never had before and, unable to take anymore of this, he let go of your legs.

‘Does it feel better now?’ he asked, causing you to swallow harshly.

‘Yes, thank you’ you smiled, pressing your legs together to calm down your own arousal.

‘Good, because I think I am ready for bed’ Cillian then chuckled before quickly getting up and distracting you by asking you whether it was alright with you if Lindsay came over tomorrow night now that some of the restrictions were scheduled to be eased in the morning.

‘Of course’ you said somewhat disappointed before wishing Cillian a good night.

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[hanibalistic]

#FFD500 | PARK JISUNG.

genre | fluff, meet cute au, strangers au

word count | 1781

warning | smoking ​

with suit and tie, styled hair, minimal makeup, and a heavy name on his back, jisung realized he could not do it. he could not bring himself to enter the main scene of high school prom.

nervous sweat drenched his hands and he hastily wiped away at the side of his hips. the blinking neon lights coming through the small windows of the assembly hall doors, and the loud blasty music that belonged to none other than his very own idol group made him feel isolated in this dark, empty school hallway he has barely walked across since he got accepted into the school.

there was no point in this. there was no point in attending. donghyuck had encouraged him the most when he was debating whether he wanted to go to prom; he said it could help with blowing off some steam, and there might even be a possibility of meeting someone eccentric, like how he did when he decided to attend prom two years back. jisung had believed him, and now he realized he should not have.

he barely attended school because of his conflicting schedule as a worldwide idol. logically speaking, he shouldn't even be allowed to graduate with the number of absences in his record, but he did so with flying colors anyway. he was everyone's friend and he has no friends; there would be no one to talk to inside, and the clear superiority in accomplishment he held might make things embarrassing and awkward for him.

he understood why donghyuck would deem his experience at his prom great. it was because he knew how to talk, he knew how to charm, and he was never shy around people. jisung believed his story when he talked about the student he frantically danced with under artificial lights. for donghyuck, having met someone eccentric was merely a fortunate coincidence, if not a miracle that he met someone exactly like him.

jisung was nothing like that. he knew he was nothing like that. dealing with strangers, let alone the mysteriously off ones, was never his forte. he would just make a fool of himself, he would not be having a good time.

going to prom was a bad idea. he should leave.

"jesus–watch it!"

"ah..." his voice dimmed as he immediately turned toward the direction of where the explosive voice came from. his hurrying steps halted to a stumble before a stop, and he eyed you up and down carefully before he dipped his head. "sorry... i–i didn't mean to scare you."

"i wasn't scared, just startled," you retorted quickly, but your voice was much calmer than your initial snap. tapping the lit cigarette in your hand lightly with your index finger, you mumbled as you eyed him with mild curiosity after your angry brows faded, "you came out in a hurry. forgot you had an award show to attend to, hmm?"

"oh–no, it's not that–" jisung paused abruptly, he wasn't sure why. when you raised a brow at him, almost impatiently it seemed, he gulped down a nervous knot and scratched the back of his head. "sorry, i just.. i didn't think you would know me."

you blinked at him as you swiped your tongue against your teeth, clicking with what jisung could not tell was menace or disinterest. either way, they were both bad. taking a short puff of the cigarette, you exhaled a cloud of smoke before you mused, "who said i know you, park jisung?"

he gulped, visibly distraught and confused.

"you just said–"

"i just what?"

he gulped again when his meek sentence was cut off so quickly. not even his brothers have interrupted him like this before, at least not with the genuine intention to anyway. it seemed that at this moment, he further came to the realization just how well he was taken care of by everyone around him, because could such a simple jab to a social interaction cause him such anxiety if he was used to it?

(he was glad he wasn't used to it.)

"what is a hotshot like you doing here anyway?" you fired the sudden question, looking to him with intrigue.

you were never one to engage in idol activities. you weren't even in this school to become an artist; you were forced here by your parents who stood somewhere in the industry. one day they realized you had the voice and the range to deserve the spotlight, and here you were stuck in those shit-ugly, overdue-banana-colored uniforms, trying to be a star you didn't want to be.

but jisung—you knew jisung. everybody knew jisung. your classmates, the teachers, that random american tourist who asked you for directions in the street, that kpop warrior online who kept screenshots of netizen articles and translating them out of context. everybody knew jisung, but very few knew him enough.

you didn't care much for him, but your curiosity just had to be fulfilled now that you were seeing him in person. what was he doing here, in a suit and sweating through his hair? did he always talked this shyly or was it your typical idol persona act? were you scaring him and should you do it even more to purposefully leave a bad impression?

your stare was confronting in this silence. granted, it was his turn to speak, so he was at blame for your lingering gaze on him. "i thought... i thought maybe i could go to prom," he finally replied quietly.

you hummed in acknowledgment, then you tilted your head. you looked behind your shoulder into the school, your eyes briefly grazing past the colorful doors that were the entrance to literal teenage hell, and you jabbed your thumb toward the direction. "prom is that way, though, dumbo."

"i know that," jisung said, embarrassed. "i just... i don't have friends."

you laughed, and once again jisung couldn't tell if you were genuinely amused or it was a response of mockery. inhaling carefully, you longing exhaled the smoke as your dazed eyes looked past him, with a smile so vague it seemed unnatural.

"what are you talking about? you've got friends. you got friends everywhere!"

"i... i don't?"

"sure you do!" you exclaimed boldly as you stretched your arms out to the sky, eyes ablaze at the stars above. "they are everywhere for you, jisung. you got friends everywhere because everyone wants to be your friend. you have options, you are just not taking them!"

"but they're not–" he licked his lower lip nervously, feeling a sense of sorrow cast over him upon the teenage loneliness he gained in trade for his success. "they're not real friends."

you paused.

real friends?

you paused; motions stopped, arms empty without strength, and eyes hallow with confused questioning. you stared at jisung as if he was a foreign creature who had said something absurd, so absurd you had to decide whether you wanted to ridicule him or interrogate him first.

what are real friends, anyway?

people who love you but do nothing about it, people who say they love you but do not, people who act upon loving you but do not? people who leave you alone at a bad time because you asked them to, people who would not leave you alone at a bad time even if you asked them to, people who knew how to juggle in between? people who comfort you because they understood you, people who advise because they could not understand you, people who try to relate to you because it was what they knew to be comfortable?

which one of those was real? were any of them fake simply because you didn't like it? when did you get crowned the decision-maker?

what are real friends, anyway? why does it matter, anyway?

why does truth matter if the lies treat you so well?

when you made up your mind to do both, you began to move fluidly again. your lips opened to breathe, and you chuckled sardonically at his naivety.

"what do you need the realness for? lies are lies only if it bothers you, essentially meaning you don't really need the absence of lies," you said. "who cares about real friends, you just need friends. don't you think you are expecting too much from humanity?"

there was sympathy in jisung that he did not know had risen. the basis of the situation, of why you came to the conclusion that people were less than gentle and kind, he knew nothing of but he was sorry for. whether something has happened in your life, or if you simply grew to be cynical, the lack of tiny joys in life must be a terrible feast.

he also knew he hasn't the energy and wit to argue himself to victory; his humanism, the desire to prove that people are good because his people have been good, would not be enough to shake you.

"shouldn't you stop smoking?" he asked, promptly changing the subject.

you removed the cigarette from your mouth, brows furrowed in annoyance now that the attention was directed toward you. you exhaled the smoke slowly from your throat, and you tilted your head up to the sky where you gently said, "maybe not. i just can't seem to die."

your god-given voice just wouldn't let off.

"do you plan to go back in after then? smelling like smoke?" he asked.

"don't mock me boy." you grinned with a glare hanging off the corner of your mouth. "and no, i am not going back in. i don't have friends, but unlike you, i just don't have friends because i am a raging asshole."

jisung finally breathed out a giggle, but it was abruptly short. he covered his mouth and lowered his head, only peeking up at you occasionally. "well, if it's any consolation, i don't think you're all that bad."

your eyes fluttered as you silently tapped your cigarette. he was just as you expected but a little more. you could understand why people like him so much now; his innocence wasn’t a drag, it was a charm. 

you gave him a silent but thankful smile before you looked away. "yeah. thanks."

jisung thought you looked less angry now; eyes at the stars, wishful and longing to be above. the blush that blossomed on his cheeks remained despite the faded nervousness, maybe it was because he felt a fondness toward you he usually wouldn't toward the people he spend his time around; you were a classmate, someone his age, someone who could understand him if allowed.

an eccentric stranger that donghyuck suspected he might meet.

maybe it was a good idea that he never went to prom.

[ikeromantic]

Delicious (NSFW edition)

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction taking place at the end of Ch. 13 in the romantic route. Approx. 1700 words of Fluff and Spice! Some spoilers maybe?

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Tears of Joy

There were three things in this world Mitsuhide enjoyed above all else. One of them was a hot bath, and one of them was teasing his little mouse. To have both in one place at the same time was decadent.

Right this moment, his little one was sinking into the hot water, her expression one of pure pleasure. Her eyes were closed, her lips parted, cheeks faintly pink. A sheen of sweat covered her brow from the steam. She looked . . . delicious.

Of course, she chose the moment he licked his lips to open her eyes. “Mitsuhide! You - you’re staring at me!” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Little one, I’ve seen you naked several times now. Why are you suddenly shy?”

“I - you - I feel like a real mouse about to be eaten up by a very happy cat.”

“Kitsune,” Mitsuhide corrected.

She blinked. “What?”

“About to be eaten by a very happy kitsune.”

She giggled. “Yes, I guess that.”

“You have such a beautiful smile, my love.” He watched her expression shift from laughter to charmed surprise.

“I don’t know what to say when you say things like that.” She touched her face, where the bruise still discolored her skin. “Especially right now.”

Mitsuhide shook his head. “Silly little mouse. As if such a fading mark makes you any less.” He shrugged off his clothes and let them pool at his feet.

Whatever she had been about to say was reduced to a sharp exhale at his sudden nudity. Her eyes went wide as she tried to fix her gaze on a point somewhere above his chest.

“Is there something wrong?”

“N-no! No, of course not! You’re. Just. Naked. All the way. Naked.” She swallowed.

Mitsuhide grinned. “I did plan to bathe with you this time . . .” He *might* have posed himself to best display his . . . attributes. “Should I wait until you finish instead?”

She licked her lips and shook her head. “I - you - just get in and quit teasing me!”

“What fun would that be, little mouse?” He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled so wide his cheeks hurt. Perhaps never. He walked slowly to the edge of the tub, using his dancer’s grace to draw out the movement. It was worth every second to see the stain on her cheeks darken and the desire in her eyes grow.

He stepped into the wooden tub and sank down into the hot water. A little groan of pleasure escaped him as he felt the tension melt from his legs and back. “If there is a heaven, little mouse, this is in it.”

She smiled. “I wish I could introduce you to the baths in my time. And hot showers!”

“Mmm, perhaps one day. Your friend seemed to think these . . . warm-holes? Will come again.”

“Sasuke did say as much. I don’t know how sure he is though. I mean, what if we went to my time and got stuck? Or what if I went but it wouldn’t take you?” She chewed at her lip, anxious over all the possible things that could go wrong on such a trip.

It was too adorable, Mitsuhide thought, and put his arm around her. He pulled her next to him and placed a kiss on her head. “Don’t worry about things that are not problems. We have enough ahead of us.”

His little one laughed softly. “True enough. I’m sure Nobunaga and Hideyoshi will have plenty to say when we get home.”

“Yes, those two for certain. But I don’t want to talk about them tonight. Tonight . . . there is only you, and I.” Mitsuhide ran his hand down her back, glorying in her soft skin, and the way she leaned into his touch.

“Oh? Are we going to talk about us?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

He nodded. “We will. But first-” He settled his hands on her hips and lifted her around to sit in front of him. “Let’s enjoy our bath.” He cupped water in his hands and poured it over her hair, running his fingers through it. “I will start with the top of you, and work all the way to the bottom.”

She looked at him over her shoulder, smiling her little, wicked smile. “The bottom, hm?” And then she wiggled against him.

Mitsuhide couldn’t have held back the groan that burst from his lips, or the sharp intake of breath that followed. He’d been hard when he got into the bath, but now he felt as if he might burst. The sensation of her naked skin rubbing his cock was like fuel to his flame. And she knew it. She was smiling more widely now, fully aware of the effect she had on him.

“Oh . . . little one . . . you will pay for that,” he breathed.

“Looking forward to it,” she replied, spoiling the bravado a bit by swallowing nervously after.

Though it was sheer torment to keep her pressed against him, Mitsuhide held her there as he first rinsed her hair. Then he rubbed her skin with fragrant herbs, gently removing the dust of their travel.

It was hard enough to wash her back, but when he turned her around, she used the moment to wrap her legs around his waist. Positioning herself deliciously atop his erection. He ached to be inside her, and wondered if his little mouse had any idea how much self control it took him not to simply . . .

She was laughing softly. Her eyes were merry and her smile was brilliant.

“Wicked little mouse. If I were any other man -” he growled low in his throat, letting his frustration show.

She leaned forward until her nipples brushed the skin of his chest. “Mitsuhide. I want you. You don’t need to hold back with me.”

And then he was kissing her. It wasn’t what he’d planned. Wasn’t the seduction he’d wanted to perform, but gods . . . she tasted so sweet. And she felt like silk. Her slick, warm fingers stroked his chest, his hip. Curled around his shaft. He thought he would die from the pleasure of it as she slid her hand slowly up, and then down again. His body shuddered against her.

Two could play at that though. If she wanted to bring him to the brink . . . He grabbed her breast in one hand, teasing the nipple with his fingers. His other hand slid down between her legs. He could feel how much she wanted him just by the heat from her.

The sound she made when he stroked her sweet pearl was half-gasp, half moan. He smiled, watching the way she trembled as he slid the pad of his thumb over her cleft again. Not that it helped his own situation. Touching her was torture. Like the sound of dripping water when you were mad with thirst.

She gave a raw cry of pleasure as he slipped his fingers inside of her, clenching tight on him as if she would hold him there. “M-my god . . . M-mitsu . . . hide - I - I -”

He might have said something then, taunted her a little, but she stroked him again, and whatever words he had were lost. He wanted to bury himself in her, to make her cry his name until she was hoarse from it. His fingers slid into her again and again, but it wasn’t enough for either of them.

Gasping, he moved his hands to her hips and pulled her into position atop him.

“Ah-haha,” she gave a panting laugh. “Y-you d-didn’t beg me. Yet.” And then his little mouse - no! His little vixen - rubbed his cock between her legs, pressing him tight enough that he could feel her clench as if to pull him inside. She moaned as his shaft rubbed the hard pebble of her clit.

It was enough to drive him mad. This game she was playing . . . she wanted him to beg. Then for her, he would. “Please.” The word purred from his throat. “Please . . .” Low and hoarse and desperate.

She rose up, and then sank down onto his shaft. Her body shuddered and she let out a piercing cry of pleasure that went higher the deeper he went.

Mitsuhide was a proud man. He would have liked to draw this first time out - to ride her to completion several times before he found his own satisfaction. But the feel of her climaxing against him, the sound of her, the sight of her breasts . . . it was too much. After months of teasing himself with her, and taking no other woman to his bed, he couldn’t hold back.

“I love you,” she gasped, her hips rising and falling as she rode him.

He pulled her down to his lips, kissing her until their tremors subsided. “I love you too, little one,” he said when he could speak again. He felt so relaxed that he didn’t want to move. Not an inch. He liked having her perched on him, impaled. Her naked breasts floating in the hot water, brushing his chest. Her cheeks flushed. Her eyes on him, and only him.

“We waited way too long for this. Just. Mmmmm . . .” She smiled.

Mitsuhide stroked her cheek. “I wanted to wait. I wanted to be sure that . . . that you wanted this. Me.”

She shook her head. “You have no idea how sure I am.”

“I think I might,” he smiled. Then his expression turned serious. “When we get back to Azuchi, I plan to ask Nobunaga for the right to marry you. I will make you my wife. Officially. In name and title . . . if . . . if you are willing.”

“Are you asking me to marry you, Mitsuhide Akechi?” She wiggled her hips, which made him gasp involuntarily.

“I am.”

“Then yes. If you promise me we’ll make love like this every night.”

Mitsuhide kissed the tip of her nose. “I can’t promise you that.”

“What? Why not?”

He grinned. “Because I plan to make love to you in a thousand inventive ways. I plan to tease you until you beg for release. To pleasure you as an art form. One that I will master. This . . . tonight . . . this was only a beginning.”

“Mmmm, I think our beginning isn’t quite over,” she smiled. And she was right. He was ready for her again.

That night he began an intense study of this new art form. After the bath, they moved to the bench, then the desk and the wall, and finally . . .the futon. Spent, they fell asleep in each other’s arms just as the light of morning began to peek through the window. It wasn’t near enough to wake the exhausted lovers.

Next: Hero's Welcome

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  IV

Oh honey she starts off so spicy! Hence why it's all under a Read More since I don't wanna get done for showing the nasty straight out the gate. Minors better beware! ;3

Tagging the boos, for obvs reasons @chelseareferenced @buckysbaby1 hope you all like it! 😘😘

Chapter 4

It begins as soon as your eyes flutter open. The darkness, familiar, like an old friend, coerces your senses into a heightened state. Exposed, your skin prickles at the coolness of the room, writhing against soft sheets. You exhale in exhilaration; you know what’s to come. It starts small, a low thrum of electricity in the air that tickles your bare flesh. Then it builds, tantalizingly slow, a measured surge of power that has you twisting yourself in knots. You want more. Only He can give you more. His arrival is heralded by the scent of oil and whiskey, leather and smoke. It caresses you, embraces you, and sends you into overdrive. It’s instinctual, a primal desire. It corrupts your mind, the sequence disjointing in its take over. Thick boots echo on a wooden floor, your mouth falling open with a heated breath. Your back arches when you feel his weight dip the bed, heat radiating from him. The contrast has you trembling, body wired. His hands, strong and calloused, grip the backs of your thighs easily. A simple tug and you’re at his mercy, legs parting easily in his strong grip. You moan, he growls. He likes what he can see, those beast eyes glowing a dangerous red in the blackness. Sharp indents form against delicate skin, his claws marking your inner thighs. His little lamb, so sweet and so ready for the slaughter. Then there’s movement, the shuffle of fabric, the chink of a belt buckle. You tense, but you’re ready. The air surges with the oncoming crescendo, the room spinning, or maybe it’s you? You’re not sure, preoccupied with the molten heat that pools suddenly between your legs. You feel his grin, all teeth and tongue helping to blot out the sharp stab of pain.      Forgive me Father, for I have sinned—

The sudden chaos of a burst steam pipe in the hallway outside your room abruptly shocks you from your slumber, a cacophony of sounds assaulting your sleep-hazed senses. You hear Heisenberg shouting, the scraping of metal being reshaped at will, the harsh hissing of escaping steam. Groaning at the rude awakening you flop back against the lumpy couch cushions, kicking off your blanket in protest. A light sheen of sweat covers your body, making your nightclothes stick to you in an uncomfortable way. As you stare up at the ceiling you try to decode the meaning behind your dream. You recall with an embarrassing amount of clarity just what it was you were doing and who you were enjoying it with. Humiliation blooms within you, coloring your cheeks a shade of scarlet. It wasn’t as though you hadn’t indulged in the past, you just never had desires so blatant before. Especially for someone who was your superior in every way. “Hey, you awake in there?” Heisenberg’s voice cuts your thoughts short. All the racket has stopped, there’s just the usual hum of the Factory. “Y-yes!” You squeak, stomach clenching uncharacteristically as you sit up, “I’m awake!” “Well get your ass up, we have work to do!” He claps his hands hard to exaggerate his point and you lament your new found torture as his footfalls recede down the corridor. Oh merciful Mother Miranda how were you supposed to face him anymore?

Heisenberg is, for lack of a better word, pissed. It surges through him and it shows in the haphazard, volatile approach he takes with his work. It isn’t rational, this level of response on his part, but he can’t help it. You’ve barely spoken a full sentence to him all day. Now, he’s under no illusions that you were going to become the best of friends. After all, you had been sent to him by Mother Bitch herself to be his servant and he knew that you were three sheets to the wind over this religious bullshit, but he’d thought that you’d been showing progress in becoming your own person. At least, you were , until that little incident where he had you pinned against his desk and decided to take his teasing to the next level. It isn’t often that Heisenberg considers that he may have gone too far with something, or someone , but he’s definitely considering the possibility now that you seem to be avoiding him wherever possible. You’d even brushed off his blatant last ditch attempt, an offer to accompany him to see his forge and the projects he’d been working on, in favour of praying to Mother Miranda. It’s the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen. You’d been so close to opening up, to no longer being a tool, but instead you’re become even more the meek little lamb of Miranda’s flock. Frustration bubbles within and his temper, short-fused as it already is, takes a critical hit. As a result everything he does has a sharp, volatile edge to it; even something as simple as opening a door is menacing in his current state. It serves to further deter you from him, giving you the space you so desperately desired. That is, until Heisenberg reaches his limit. “Just open up already! You can’t ignore me forever!” He thunders where he stands in the hallway, gritting his teeth in a vicious snarl. When he’s met with your persistent silence he howls in frustration, throwing his arms up in the air. The irony of him choosing to remain outside your door doesn’t go amiss, since it’s well known that he could easily rip the door from its hinges with the flick of his hand because of his nifty little ability to manipulate metal. Which, coincidentally, nearly everything in this Factory is made of in some form or another. But he doesn’t and you’re thankful for that, even if you still don’t want to face him. It continues on relentlessly, neither side backing down, and without realizing it, the whole thing becomes a game in its own right. One that pits you against one another to see who cracks first. So it’s a surprise when it’s Heisenberg that seeks you out first. It’s a situation of his own making, having followed you on the gritty live feed from his security cameras. With ease he catches you off guard on your way out of the elevator, taking your fright in his stride. “Easy now!” He exclaims, his hands raised in surrender. You’re cagey, looking for a way out. He isn’t going to give you one because he’s had about enough of you giving him the cold shoulder over a goddamn joke . You’ve pressed yourself tight against the wall, watching him like a hawk. He can hear the frantic flutter of your heart, the sharp intakes of breath, and his jaw tightens. He can’t get distracted now, he needs to focus — this was not the time to enjoy your distress. “Now I know that I can be a bit of a handful,” he starts, then falters, mouth working to try and word it just right, “but, really, hasn’t this gone on long enough? I didn’t mean any harm by it! Just a little teasing, you weren’t meant to get upset.” Oh, he thinks this is because of that time. You stare up at him in utter disbelief. You want to slap him. It’s the first time you’ve ever felt the innate burning desire to inflict bodily harm on anyone, but here you stand, about ready to knock those glasses right off his face. “You have literally no idea how you make me feel , do you?” You accuse him, incredulous, your posture straightening. Things might have slipped back to the way they were before all of this if he had just let you be, allowed you to warm back up to him, and maybe you might have been content with that. This was a turmoil of his own creation, after all, so why not let him stew in it a while. But now? Now you were at your limit. You’re tired of constantly tip-toeing around yourself because of him and his stupid games. If anything, you’re even more tentative to rekindle whatever this relationship is that you have with him, to throw in the towel and tell Mother Miranda she’d been wrong about you. It made you sour to think that what little progress you had made had been lost and it’s taken its toll on you. There’s a harsh look to you that has Heisenberg’s head spinning, apprehension gripping him. “H-Hold on a minute,” he attempts to defend himself, an uncomfortable blend of emotions sitting like a stone in his stomach. He’s conflicted over your new found confidence. You’re no longer the mild-mannered devotee that was wound around Mother Miranda’s finger, standing tall. You’re practically shining. It’s a good look on you, but he’s not exactly thrilled to be the one on the receiving end. “No!” You snap, squaring up to him. You see his brilliant eyes widen behind his circular glasses and for once in your life you feel powerful and in control . “I’ve done nothing but try my best here, trying to make something good out of this situation and you made me feel like a complete idiot !” The words feel heavy on your tongue, but you feel lighter now that they’re out in the open. Who knew that having your shame out in the open could feel so liberating. You take a deep breath when you feel the pinpricks of tears sting your eyes, trying to ground yourself. You wouldn’t forgive yourself if you cried in front of him. Not in this lifetime, or the next. Heisenberg stares down at you with a look of realization on his face, now fully aware that there was more to this than your feelings of inadequacy, that you were little more than a joke to him. It’s always been there, in the way your heart races when he gets just that little bit too close or how your eyes soften when he’s agonizing over his work. He goes to speak this revelation but you shake your head, lower lip trembling. “I was just trying to help .” The way your voice breaks has him in a tailspin, the look of pure anguish in your eyes cutting him deep. This is in no way what he had envisioned when he spotted the chance to clear the air with you. “Oh come on, don’t cry!” It’s a desperate plea, something you never thought you would hear from him. “You’re making me feel really shitty here!” “That’s because you are!” You sob, unable to hold it back anymore. You feel like such a pathetic idiot. That overwhelming monster of self-degradation looms, fueling your misery. If only a dark abyss could just swallow you up and save you from this embarrassment, but you know that’s not going to happen. There’s only this awkward moment, lingering between you. You whimper, trying desperately to wipe away your tears. They stream down your cheeks, burning against your already flushed skin as you sniffle. Suddenly his hands are encasing your own in a firm grip. With a surprisingly gentle touch he tugs them down, exposing you. The whites of your eyes are marred with tiny lines of red and your long lashes clump together from your tears. You’re a mess, but he doesn’t mind. In fact, he finds you oddly endearing in the moment. Swallowing, you try to understand what’s going on. Your hands are still held in his, the feel of soft leather almost comforting against your skin, and you wonder if you’re dreaming again. Something stirs in you, glowing embers kicking up from ashes, and you try to pull away. It’s an admirable attempt but Heisenberg easily catches you, holding you in a vice-like grip against him. You whine at the harshness of his grasp and he frowns, loosening his hold just enough to make it bearable. “I’m sorry, alright?” He mumbles, hesitating. It’s been so long, too long, since he’s been in such close proximity to someone who wasn’t prey. You aren’t fighting him, you aren’t trying your damnedest to get away. In fact, you look as though you’re captivated by him. It’s a side of him that no one has ever seen before, the dejection of a man twisted into being a monster. Something inside you breaks anew at how lost he looks, the last and most dangerous of the Lords at Mother Miranda’s disposal. He’s nothing more than a dog on a choke chain, to be used when it’s suited and then discarded afterwards. Just like you. “Heisenberg,” your voice is hushed, woeful. The words are so genuine and your heart isn’t yet made of stone to be immune to their plight. When you shift in his grasp there’s no resistance and you reach up to gently cup his cheeks in your hands. The stubble on his face tickles your palms and his skin is warm and smooth to the touch. You find you quite like it, the contrast of textures. He does little in the way to stop you. In fact, he encourages you. His hands find purchase on your hips, thumbs brushing the delicate spots just below your rib cage. It elicits a soft gasp from you, your body stiffening beneath him. Glistening eyes stare up at him, a swirling maelstrom threatening to drown him along with you. He’s curious whether or not you’re ready to commit to this. Heisenberg knows what you want, or better yet, what your body wants, but your mind eludes him. He waits with bated breath to see what path you will take, the uncomfortable feeling of anxiety creeping in his bones. It’s like poison, a crawling taint that threatens to take over him. What have you done to him? The exact same thing he did to you. It’s a disquieting notion, one that almost overtakes him, until it doesn’t. The doubts are suddenly banished and relief washes over him at the feel of your silken lips against his in a tender kiss. The chain breaks; you're both suddenly free, and it feels euphoric .

[pascalpanic]

Caffeine Rush: Chapter Two / Mocha

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!Reader

Summary: Javier learns his fate. You take him out to that dinner you promised.

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language, mentions of food, tooth-rotting fluff. I mean it. 

A/N: HI FRIENDS if you can’t already tell from my blog, I LOVE red velvet cake and this chapter is highly self indulgent. This fic is so near and dear to me because I really relate to the reader and put more of myself in her than I do others. I hope you guys enjoy!!!

previous chapter || next chapter || masterlist

Mocha: espresso, steamed milk, and chocolate. Beloved for the sweet taste.

To his surprise, Javier didn’t get fired. In fact, they didn’t even mention Los Pepes. He walked in there, sweating bullets and filled with anxiety and caffeine, only to learn that they weren’t the review board. They were operations, and asked Javier what he knew about the Calí cartel. Afraid it was a trap, he didn’t answer, until the man across from him cracked a smile and told him about his new assignment.

“Your work with Escobar and the Medellín cartel was unconventional, but we needed it. If you’ll accept our offer, we’d like to assign you to Calí to head the investigation into their cartel.”

Javier’s brain froze in shock. He was wordless, staring blankly ahead and furrowing his brow. After a few moments, he mustered out all that he could. “You’re serious?”

“Yes, Agent Peña. With the assignment would additionally come a raise in pay and rank, as well as-”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll take it.”

“We haven’t finished the offer-”

“I’ll take it, sir. Thank you,” he said, nodding.

“Well… take this,” he said, making Javier stand from the chair across from the room and take the file from his hands. “This is the information you’ll need, including your new pay and details. We are asking that you take at least some of your banked vacation time. You have several months of it, Peña. Our code requires that-” 

Javier’s fully aware of this policy. Use it or lose it. Unfortunately, he’d never had much time or want for vacation while chasing Escobar. What would he do? “Yeah, give me a month off,” he said mindlessly as he opened the file and scanned over the front page, in utter disbelief. He registered his surroundings after a second and looked up. “You won’t regret it, sir. Thank you,” he says and shakes the man’s hand before leaving the room.

Now, Javier stands at a payphone outside of the embassy, dialing your number in his pocket. When you pick up and ask who’s there, he laughs happily. “They didn’t fire me!”

“Congratulations,” you laugh as you realize it must be Javier. “What all happened?”

“I actually got promoted,” he admits, the adrenaline and caffeine rushing through his bloodstream. “It was absolutely crazy. They didn’t even mention Los Pepes or anything, just-”

“Are you ready for me to pick you up now?” You ask, cutting him off. “You can tell me the rest over some food. You need it. You didn’t eat that muffin I brought you.”

“What are you, my mother?” He asks dryly, but he’s too excited to be too annoyed. “No, I’ll head back to the hotel. Pick me up in 30 minutes?”

“Sounds great. Congratulations, Javier,” you tell him, grinning into the receiver. 

“Call me Javi.”

“Okay… Javi,” you say, biting your lip to hold back from giggling. “I’ll see you then.”

There’s a click and the phone line goes dead. You start giggling happily, flopping back onto the couch. Javier makes his way to the hotel, smiling. He lights up a cigarette, sighing at the way the warmth of the lighter contrasts the cold and snowy air. 

-

Holy fuck. You’re going on what could possibly be considered a date with a really hot guy and you need to get dressed, quick. You hurry around your tiny apartment, throwing on something nice-looking and messing with your hair. You spritz on some perfume, straighten yourself in the mirror, and rush out to the street. 

Georgetown is beautiful in the snow, you smile to yourself, but you wince as you realize the snow might slow you down. Your car is a piece of shit, you have to admit, but you love it. Her name is Whitney, in honor of Whitney Houston, and you beg and plead with her to behave as you make your way to Javier’s hotel. 

The radio plays some music quietly, and a handsome dark-haired man stands outside of the hotel, smoking a cigarette when you arrive. You flash your high-beams at him and he smiles as he puts out the cigarette and tosses it in the trash. “Hi,” you almost sing as he gets in the car. “Are you a hugger?”

“Am I a what?” He frowns and asks, looking at you. 

“Do you like hugs?” You ask, as if it’s obvious.

“I… don’t really receive many. They’re nice, I guess,” he shrugs as he looks you up and down quickly. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he tells you.

Warmth collects in your chest at his words. “Well, thank you. And I ask because I wanted to give you a hug of congratulations. I’m a big hugger,” you shrug a little and tilt your head as you look at him. He looks nice, in a button-up and those tight jeans you saw him in earlier.

A car honks behind you and you jump, awkwardly waving behind you and taking off so the next car can drive up to the hotel. Javier chuckles a little. “Well… I do like hugs, I guess. No one has ever asked me that.”

You look at him briefly, with confusion in your eyes, before they find the road again. “What a sad, sad life,” you chuckle. “I suppose. Are you… like, recently single? Did you date when you were in Colombia?” You ask innocently.

Javier exhales in a light chuckle. “No, never really had a relationship. Lots of flings,” he admits, finding that to be the best word to describe his situation. “But no relationships.”

You nod along, eyes scanning the road as you drive to dinner. “I see.”

“How about you?” He asks, wanting to deflect the attention from himself. That seems to be a common theme with him, you’ve noticed. All the conversations center around you, no matter how hard you try to talk about him. 

“Well, no. I haven’t really gone out much or done anything, really. I’m a bit of a homebody, but once I’m out I enjoy it. Problem is you can’t find a date from the couch.”

You reach the restaurant not much later, parking outside. You get out after chatting a little more, and Javi is taken by surprise when you wrap your arms around him in a big hug. “Uh, hi?” He laughs. He instinctively returns it, enjoying the feeling of your body pressed to his. He hasn’t had anything so tender in a long time. 

“I told you, it’s a congratulatory hug!” You say with a grin as you squeeze him then break away. “I’m happy for you.”

He smiles down at you. “I… thank you. That was nice.”

“Well, there’s plenty more where that came from,” you tell him and lead him inside, opening the door and heading into the restaurant. 

-

Javier is a fantastic conversationalist. He tells stories with his hands, vividly explaining stories from the chase for Escobar. He tells you of his partner, Steve, and his crazy methods; about Colonel Carillo, who he still thinks is one of the strongest men he’s ever met; of Stechner, who you already want to gut-punch if you ever meet. 

You watch him and admire the way his eyes dart about when he’s telling a story, the way he draws maps on the table with his fingers that you have no hope of understanding. 

The food is great but the company is better. Javier’s laugh is a beautiful sound, one rarely heard by others. He listens to you just as attentively, smiling as you talk about the coffee shop, about Georgetown, all of your life. 

By the end of the night, it’s easy to declare that you really, really like Javier. You like the way his lips quirk up in a smile, his intelligence and humor. You don’t want the night to end, truly. 

When the bill comes, he takes it before you can even try. “Hey, I told you I was paying as a congratulatory dinner,” you frown. 

“That can be another dinner,” he says mindlessly as he signs the receipt. “I always pay on the first date.”

“Oh, is that what this is?” You beam at him, tilting your head, eyes twinkling. 

He smiles as he looks up at you. “I was thinking it was. I have at least a month off work now, to be wherever I want and I have nothing to do. I’d like to properly take my time to get to know you,” he offers, and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

“It seems like nothing about you is proper, Javi,” you tease and sip your drink, quirking an eyebrow. 

He mirrors you, sipping his drink too. “That’s fair. But we’re in the nation’s capital, I suppose we should be a little more…”

You look at him and try to fill in the blank, smiling. “Practical? Traditional?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know what I meant to say there.”

You chuckle a little. “Well, it doesn’t matter. I like the sound of that.”

-

After dinner, you give Javier a little tour of Georgetown through the windows of your crappy car. The snow from earlier in the day has collected, dusting the tops of window sills and awnings over shop entries. Despite the snow, the car thermometer reads that it’s somewhat warm for the time of year.

There’s one warm little place with glowing lights. Despite the hour of night, it’s clearly open. Javier asks what it is. “Oh, that’s a little bakery,” you comment. “My favorite place, honestly. Their red velvet cupcake is fantastic.”

“That sounds good. I like chocolate more, to be honest,” he comments. 

You continue driving for a few seconds, rolling your eyes. “They have a good one there, but it’s so one-dimensional. It’s just chocolate with chocolate on top. Red velvet is the best because you have the cake and the tangy frosting, and-“

“Pull over?” Javier asks, and you look at him in confusion but pull into a parking spot obediently and quickly. 

Your eyes are wide in confusion. “What?” You ask him, concerned that something is wrong with the car. 

“I’m buying you dessert,” he chuckles and gets out. 

Your heart falls then and there for him. If you haven’t already decided, now you know that there’s no turning back. You want Javier Peña with a passion. “Jesus Christ, you could’ve told me that,” you laugh and turn off the car, getting off and bounding behind him. His long legs have already made strides ahead of you, leaving you to catch up. 

“You wouldn’t have stopped, would you?” He asks, the gentle snow leaving white flakes on his dark coat. He looks so pretty like this, the warm light from inside the bakery glowing against his dark hair. 

You roll your eyes but you’re smiling. “No, maybe not.” He opens the door for you and you thank him and follow him in. 

Javier walks to the counter and wastes no time. “Hi. I’ll take two red velvet cupcakes and two large coffees. How do you take yours?” He asks you as you join him at his side. 

“From my café,” you tease him, before turning to the woman behind the counter with a polite smile and asking for two sugars and two creams. Javier asks for his black. 

The two of you step back while she gets your order ready and you look at him, smiling a little. There are still soft white flakes in his wavy hair, which are slowly melting into water drops. 

You don’t know it, but he’s looking at you just the same. He admires you, smiling a little, just enough the quirk up one side of his mouth. “Thanks for buying,” you tell him and step a little closer. He’s warm, you can feel it radiating off of him, and the shop’s blasting cool air throughout. 

“Like I said,” he chuckles. “I always buy on the first date.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of your stray hair behind your ear. “Would you want to come up to my hotel room to eat the cupcakes?” He offers. 

You shake your head. “I work early tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t.”

Normally, Javier would be disappointed. Normally, he’d want to fuck you on the first date, leave you screaming his name until you can’t help but come back for more. But to his surprise, he doesn’t mind. He has a whole month to be with you, a whole month to fall for the woman he’s already half-lovesick over. “Not a problem,” he nods and walks to the counter as the woman calls that your order is ready. 

He hands you a large coffee, and you take a sip of the warm liquid, sighing. “There’s a little shelter out there,” you say, pointing to a bench with an awning above it to keep it clear from the snow. “Do you want to eat them out there?”

Javier half-smiles and nods. “That sounds good.”

It’s warm for the season, but there’s still a cool breeze. You hurry over and sit on the small bench, Javier sitting next to you. The sides of your thighs touch, and you’re both aware of it, the proximity this small bench forces you to squeeze into. Javier sets the box on his lap and opens it, revealing two red velvet cupcakes. “These look delicious.”

“They are,” you grin and pick one up, licking a bit of the frosting off the top and sighing in content with the taste. Javier watches you, and you’re suddenly very aware of the connotation. You look over at him with wide eyes, holding back a laugh. You both break down giggling at the action, your head falling against his shoulder. “I didn’t mean to do that like... that, I swear,” you shake your head as you sit up straight again. 

“You looked good doing it,” he teases you and bumps your shoulder as you unwrap the paper. “I’m going to save mine for later.”

You frown at him. “Come on. I have to be here when you try the best dessert of all time.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I’m too full. I’ll have it for breakfast tomorrow or something.”

“Javi,” you whine. “There’s no point of you getting two if we don’t eat them together. You have to eat it, come on.”

Javier looks over at your cupcake, which has one bite taken. “Let me take a little bite of yours then.”

An idea strikes and you nod. “Sure,” you say casually, holding it up for him to eat it. When he goes in to bite it, you move it closer to his face, causing the cupcake to smash into his chin and onto his nose.

Javier thinks he’s the one that missed. “Fuck,” he laughs as he crosses his eyes as he looks down at his nose, seeing the cupcake and frosting smeared on his face. He sees you giggling and laughs. “Hey, you didn’t… what the fuck?” He laughs, bringing his face close to yours. “That was uncalled for.”

“You were being a grump. I had to,” you giggle, your face naturally coming closer to his.

“And we don’t even have napkins,” he shakes his head and looks at you. “How can I clean this up?”

Tilting your head, your eyes dart between his, smiling at the dark brown color and the way they soften under your gaze. “I have an idea,” you murmur, cupping the side of Javier’s face and setting the mashed cupcake back in the box. 

Just a moment later, your lips are on his. His eyes have fallen shut and he sighs as you kiss him, a hand finding your waist and pulling you closer to him. He sets the box on the bench behind him and scoots closer, a hand on the side of your neck. 

He tastes like coffee and cream cheese frosting, his lips unbearably soft for such a hardened man. You soften him with your touch, when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. 

He’s in fucking Heaven, he thinks, murmuring your name against your lips. He knows you already, knows the kind of person you are. He’d figured you’d maybe give a chaste kiss on the first date if you liked the person enough. The voracity of your lips against his tells him you might just reciprocate the intensity of the deep ache in his ribs he feels for you. 

After a moment, you break away and smile softly. “I didn’t get all of it,” you frown as you see that there’s still some frosting on Javier’s nose. 

“At least now we match,” he teases and wipes your face of some red crumbs that transferred to your chin with the pad of his thumb. 

You giggle and press your forehead to his, the warmth of his body perfect against yours in the slight chill of the December night. “Will you come visit me at work again tomorrow?” You ask him. 

“Only if you make me a drink that tastes as good as you do.”

-

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[djarinbarnes]

me olvidarás - five

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Pairings: Javier Peña x female reader

Warnings for the chapter: heavy kissing, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), masturbation, downright sinful things hdfhgdg

Word count: 4.2k

Summary: an undeniable warm summer vacation in Bogotá. simply trying to get away from your nosey, boring parents and live for once, you meet a man who impresses you beyond where your imagination could ever take you.

a/n: a little more action..... introducing Steve Murphy!

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It feels like a lifetime passes, and yet you still hear nothing from Javi. You’re starting to get worried as the third day comes to an end, thinking more and more about him. You almost feel like… you don’t even know what you feel like. It feels like he’s forgotten all about you. 

You knew it was too good to be true. It was too good to be true. You flip the pages of your book from start to finish more than a hundred times that day. Or, that’s what it feels like. You’re afraid it’s gonna fall off the back if you keep it up. It wasn’t the newest book, after all.

You’d quickly grown tired of wandering around Bogotá with your parents, with your mom wanting to stop at every damn little store and tavern to find small souvenirs for whomever of her friends from her erotica book club. You weren’t even sure how that whole thing started, but you knew what she was reading in those novels.

You sigh before looking to your wrist, the watch displaying 7:43pm right back at you. You really do contemplate on seeking Javi out, but in some way, it feels like overstepping. You knew where he worked and where he lived, but you didn’t feel like you were allowed to seek him out, since you were just… yeah… what were you again?

You bite your lip before you decide to jump headfirst into the problem, rising from your lounge chair to go put on some clothes. You decide to forego a bra yet again before you throw on a loose-fitting band t-shirt, tucking it into the waist of some worn out denim skirt. It was Colombia after all, and it was still somewhat warm outside.

You decide to walk to where you knew the embassy was located, seeing you didn’t have any other choice… And when you finally stood outside the building, everything you had thought about on the way there had diminished. 

You weren’t even sure if he was at work, but with an exhale you pushed the heavy door open, making your way to the front desk. You noticed there were just about no people at work, and you assumed everyone’s shift had already ended. 

Yet everything was still open. You looked around slowly, feeling like an intruder as you stood there, looking at the closed booths of the reception. You didn’t have one single clue where the fuck you were going. God, it was a stupid idea coming here, you thought as you shook your head, before heading for the door.

“Can I help you?” A clearly distinct American accent filled your ears, and you almost cheered. You turned to find an actual American standing in front of you, blond hair visibly messed up from all the combing through his hands had done, hands that held a very thick file along with a cigarette that was very close to being finished.

“Um yeah, I guess,” you turn back to him with a smile. You notice how he takes you in, running his eyes over your face before falling to your bare legs. Okay, yes, it was getting very cold out. And you had goosebumps littering your legs and arms. “I’m looking for Javi.”

He nods a little before bringing the rest of the cigarette to his lips, inhaling the last of the tobacco before stubbing it out into one of the trays on the reception desk. “Follow me.” He urges you to come hither with his hand as he keeps walking in the direction he was going to originally, turning a few corners with you trailing behind him like you were a lost puppy. You kind of were. 

“Peña. Company.” He speaks the two words quickly before he makes room for you to see the man you had been missing for the past three days. You couldn’t believe it had already been three days since you’d seen him, to be honest. 

He’s sitting at his desk with his head buried in files, multiple files even thicker than the one the blond man is carrying, stacked around him like walls. His hair is just as tangled up as his companion, a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What company, Steve, it’s… late” 

Then he looks up at you, his eyes immediately widening as he takes you in, standing right there in the middle of his workspace. You’re fiddling your hands as you uncertainly trip in the middle of the giant office, waiting for Javi to just… do anything, you guess.

“Hermosa…” He breathes, almost out of relief. The two of you are looking at each other, Javi looking at you like you had grown another head and you looking at Javi like your life depended on him to continue living.

“I’ll… leave you two to it.” The man, Steve, says before he’s leaving the two alone in the huge space that was their office. You take a step towards him and smile softly as he blinks slowly, not really believing you’re standing in front of him.

“Hey Javi…” you whisper as he quickly rises to his feet, almost pushing his desk away from him to reach you hurriedly enough. His arms pull you in rapidly, and you’re taken aback at the amount of emotions you feel radiating off him. His hands are gripping your back, moving over the length of it to feel all of you close to him. Your arms come up to rest around his neck, standing on your toes to fully reach his height. 

“Missed you.” He breathes into your hair as he tilts slightly, almost losing his balance at the way he’s holding onto you. He quickly loosens his arms around you, before he’s navigating his lips against yours, making you whimper out at the sudden contact. It’s almost like you hadn’t been apart, like you hadn’t been starved for each other’s touch for three days. 

“Missed you.” You whisper against his lips before he reluctantly lets you go as he hears Steve’s footprints come back down the hall, and you turn as his hands leave you, watching his partner approach the two of you with three cups of steaming hot coffee.

You watch as Javi sits himself back down into his chair before holding out his hand to you, pulling you in to sit on his goddamn lap. And in front of his partner, that is. God, the audacity of this man… You almost let out a laugh at the current situation, but it seems like Steve doesn’t mind. His hand finds the small of your back, his little finger getting separated from his other fingers as it latches itself into one of the belt loops.

“Didn’t know how you took it… So I did it like I do mine.” You thank Steve as he hands you a cup of coffee, and you silently thank the heavens it’s not black coffee. You sip it slowly, feeling your stomach grumble at the missing contents you should have fed it an hour ago. You just weren’t hungry an hour ago. And on top of that, you missed Javi so much you barely could eat anything.

“I’m sorry I forgot to call you, hermosa. We got sent to Cali two days ago as a hurried assignment, came back empty-handed two hours ago.” He breathes out as he takes a large gulp of coffee. You nod with a smile, happy that it wasn’t because you had done something wrong. 

“It’s alright. I wasn’t really expecting you to call, actually…” you smile at him and he raises his eyebrow. Liar. You can see the word lingering at the tip of his tongue - you can almost feel the desperation of him wanting to say it. You beat him to it, though. “I expected you to show up unannounced like last time.” 

The laugh that leaves him is heartfelt, and the way Steve looks at the two of you definitely doesn’t go unnoticed by you. You find yourself wondering what he might be thinking about the two of you. You don’t know how much Javi has told him - if he’s even told him anything.

The two of you are a little caught up in simply looking at one another - both of you clearly remembering what had happened during the weekend between the two of you as both your lips tugged into smirks occasionally, his fingers drawing circles on your back as yours massaged the nape of his neck. 

“I’m gonna be heading out. Connie just called and said dinner’s ready in five.” You hear Steve say and you turn your head, surprised that he’d been able to take a call without the two of you noticing. You let out a giggle as you turn back to face Javi, finding the situation extremely funny. “You two should get something to eat as well. I heard your stomach…” You tell him your name and he repeat it, before nodding. 

“Right. Just try to eat something, both of you. Alright? Goodnight.” You both watch as prepares to take his leave, pulling on the suit jacket draped over the back of his chair, before pulling a fresh cigarette from the packet, placing it in between his lips and lighting it. You both wave to him as he nods at you both, quickly ascending the stairs before turning back to the two of you. “And for god’s sake. Please don’t fuck in the office.” 

You both wait until he’s out of your sight before you let out the laughs you’re both holding in, laughing and holding onto each other like the two of you were going to disappear into the hilariousness of the situation. You feel Javi’s hand move up to rest over your shirt, just on top of your ribs. Your heart starts beating faster at the light touch.

“Again, I’m sorry I didn’t…” you shut him up by pulling his lips to yours, your hand holding on to the back of his neck. You twist slightly in his lap to gain better access, and Javi welcomes you with open arms. You’re thankful the chair he’s sitting on doesn’t have armrests as you straddle him, your lips still locked with his.

His hands find back to their (apparent) favorite place on your hips, pulling your hips snugly against his. You can feel the excitement through his trousers, noting they’re not the usual denim pair he wore but a softer pair of slacks. You giggle against his lips as his hand comes against your cheek, startling you slightly. 

“I’m happy you’re here,” He says, your noses brushing against each other as he reaches behind you and you can hear some files scattering along the floor as he pushes them off the table. You feel as he rises, his hands back on your ass as he lifts you, before setting you down on his desk, his lips still fervently moving against yours. “Missed you so much.”

You breathe hard against his lips, the movements of his hips grinding against yours causing your breaths to get deeper, along with your fingers burying themselves deeply into his brown locks. You whimper as he grinds against just the right spot, and you clearly feel the way your panties get wetter at the contact.

“Javi…” You breathe against his lips and his hips still against yours before he’s pulling back to look at you. His pupils are completely blown out, the lust deeply embedded in the chocolate depths, and you find yourself clenching around nothing as your eyes fall to his parted, swollen lips. You lean into place another against them. “Please…”

You’re well aware of the promise he’s given you, but right at this moment you just want him to ravish you against the desk, right there at the embassy. You have no regrets about feeling this way about him right now, your mind completely blinded by finally being in his arms again and the lust it has brought with it.

You look down as you feel his fingers lift the hem of your denim skirt you’re wearing, pulling it up over your hips as he lifts you from the desk. He pulls it all the way up under your breasts, baring your panties to his hungry eyes. He leans back in to kiss you again, this time holding your less-covered lower body tightly against his.

You clearly feel the erection he’s sporting through his slacks, and you moan at the contact. There are merely three barriers of clothes between the two of you, and you wish to god that he would throw all of his morals out of the window and fuck you right there on his desk.

You feel as he reaches behind you once more, making sure that there’s enough space for you as he lowers you onto the desk, your back coming into contact with scattered papers and rough files. You look at him with so much admiration at that moment, he feels like he could combust.

Javi places another kiss on your lips before he’s sliding down your body, lifting your t-shirt to scatter kisses all over your now bared breasts and stomach, his mustache sending shockwaves from your skin to your heart, turning you on even more. You whimper as he twirls his tongue around one of your nipples and you bite your lip to silence yourself. 

He gives the other one just as much attention before he’s sliding further down, placing kisses along your ribcage and down your stomach, over the denim crumbled around your middle before his tongue is swiftly dipping into your naval, tickling you a bit. You giggle and move your hands back to intertwine in his hair, urging him to go on. You moan wantonly as you feel his fingers playing with the hem of your panties, thanking the god you wore the pretty ones with lace today. 

You feel his kisses halt against your stomach, his fingers stopping in the same manner and your cheeks redden when you lift your head to look at him, catching the way his eyes are waiting for you. He’s asking for your consent. It feels surreal when you nod at him and his fingers keep going, slowly dragging the soft cotton of your panties down your legs. 

You watch him as his lips place sinful kisses up the length of your legs before he’s parting them slightly, kneeling in between them before you lay your head back against the desk, not fully trusting yourself to look at him. You feel as he lifts one leg to lay against his back, before you feel his breath against you, his thumbs delicately caressing the insides of your thighs as he once again takes some very considerate time to ready you for what’s about to happen. 

What was about to happen? You barely finish the thought before his tongue has darted out to lick a firm stripe up between your folds, and you clench your fingers around nothing. Those that had previously held onto his hair now had nothing to hold onto, and you whimpered at the long-gone contact. Or maybe it was the way the tip of his tongue was playing with your clit - you weren’t quite sure.

You didn’t really know what he was doing - the only thing you knew was that it felt absolutely incredible. You moaned out when you felt a wet digit enter you before it curled upwards, against the front of your cunt. Another one followed the first, and so did your moans. You whimpered as you felt his tongue against you again, audibly enjoying the way it toyed with your bundle of nerves. 

You felt him as he moved around, probing the depths of you while still using his fingers on you, his nose drawn tightly against your clit. You were barely able to focus on anything but the way his mouth felt against you.

“Oh my god Javi, please don’t stop,” you breathe out before you slowly curve your back to look at him in between your legs. Your hands find their way back into his hair, pulling him impossibly closer before he with a suck of his lips and a curve of his fingers had you coming undone against his mouth. You were thrown head first into euphoria, the pleasure crashing into you like a tsunami on a shore. 

You felt your legs shake around his head as you tightened them slightly, your cunt convulsing desperately around his fingers as he urged you through your high, elongating it for as long as possible. And in that exact moment, you really did wish he would never stop doing what he did just then. You never knew having someone’s mouth against you could bring you so much pleasure. Well, you had heard about it, but it was so much different actually experiencing it. 

When he finally detaches himself from your core, you’re quicker than anything to push yourself to sit as you pull his lips to yours, mouths slanting over one another as your heavy breathing mixes in the sparse space between the two of you. “Yo te prometo un millón de aventuras.” He breathes against your lips and you let out a giggle at his words. With no further knowledge of Spanish, you try to piece the sentence together, at it makes your cheeks flush.

“I’m sure you will, Javi.” You reattach your lips to his, finding his tongue with yours, loving the way you can taste yourself on him. He pulls away from your lips before he’s bringing the two fingers previously buried inside of you to them. You bite your lip before your tongue darts out to lick the glossy cum off his fingers, before his tongue finds the opposite side of the digits, your eyes interlocking over your sinful escapade.

His fingers part slowly, your tongues meeting in between them and you moan out. What he’s currently doing with you, is probably one of the dirtiest things you’ve ever done. Nothing compares to the thing going on between you right now, and you secretly - again - wish for it to never end. 

Once his fingers are thoroughly cleaned, his hand is grasping the back of your neck, your mouths moving against one another as both your panting is getting deeper. You moan out at his other hand finds its way back to your clit, rubbing soft circles over your bundle of nerves, desperate in bringing you to another orgasm. You whimper into his mouth as the pressure against your nub intensifies, and your hands are mindlessly working on unbuttoning his slacks. 

He groans out as your hand finds its way into his pants, under the restraints of his boxer briefs that separates the two of you. You moan into his mouth yet again as you finally get to wrap your hand around his hard length, stroking it softly with your fingers. His cock is warm and heavy in your hand, and the tips of your fingers are lightly teasing his sensitive skin, causing him to tug your lower lip in between his teeth. You whimper as another moan leaves his lips, and you’re sure if he keeps the speed of his fingers up, you’re going to combust.

“Please Javi.” you breathe into his mouth, not missing the way his movements halt slightly at your plea. You know he’s reluctant, so stubborn in not wanting to give into you. Yet you wish he simply would just fuck you, right there in his office on top of the paperwork that had held him at work. 

You breathe hard against his lips as his fingers remove themselves from your cunt, before he’s pushing the briefs down his legs slightly, baring his cock to you for the first time. 

You bite your lip as you take in the erect size of him, before your eyes dart up to meet his lust-blown orbs. You whine as he lays his hand on top of yours still holding his shaft, his hand urging yours to move. 

You tighten your grip just a tiny bit, moving your hand up and down the length. You tug your bottom lip back in between your teeth as you watch your hands on him, and you don’t miss the way his cock pulses against your palm. 

Your other hand finds his hip as your heart picks up the pace with a million beats per minute, before you slowly urge him closer to you, bringing the blunt head of his cock to rest against your folds. He sucks in a breath as he hangs his head slightly, his forehead coming to rest against your shoulder. 

You know he’s fighting an internal war with himself in the fleeting seconds where there’s nothing to hear but silence, before he removes his hands from yours, and removes your hand altogether. 

“Don’t hold back.” you whisper as you slide your hand up his side, coming to rest over the fabric of his cream-colored button-down, drawing soft circles into his ribcage. You were unsure if you were actually tickling him, but you were too caught up in the moment to give a damn. 

You feel his breath on your sweaty collarbone, before he swipes the head of his cock between your folds, not entering you the slightest. 

Just the warmth of his cock spreading your lips apart, the feeling of the heaviness of him in between your legs, is enough to make your mind go into a frenzy. You really do want him to give into his urges and fuck you senseless, but instead he slowly thrusts his hips, the whole length of his cock sliding up and down between your labia, the head of his cock nudging against your clit every time he retracts his hips. 

His hand is pushing his cock against you, the friction of his warmth drawing moans from your lips. His lips find yours again, his tongue finding yours between your parted lips, as he slides his cock between your lips faster, drawing whimpers from both of you, the pressure of his hand against his length drawing him close to orgasm. You yelp against his lips as one particular thrust of his hips makes your cunt clench around nothing, as you come again.

He groans at the feeling of your cunt tightening against him, his sweaty forehead resting against yours as he forcefully shuts his eyes, ropes of cum spurting from his cock and onto your stomach. His breath comes out in short puffs before he reattaches his lips to yours, the hand not against his length coming up to grasp you behind your neck. You whimper into his mouth as you feel the sticky warmth slide down your stomach slightly, before you start to giggle, the wet trails meeting in the center, pooling in your belly button.

“Fuck… I made a mess.” he laughs as he finally lets go of you, tucking himself back into his pants before leaving you bare on his desk in the search for something to clean you with. He returned quickly with some tissues, drying your stomach off before helping you off the desk, handing you your panties to pull on under your skirt. He’s leaving fleeting kisses on wherever he can get to - your hand, your arm, your neck - as he tidies up his workspace before pulling you along, towards the exit.

He wraps his leather jacket around your arms as you both push through the entrance doors, quickly noting the drop in the temperature since he was last outside. Wordlessly he guides you to his car, buckling you in before he’s driving you home. Fuck getting something to eat. You were thoroughly satisfied with what the two of you had just done. 

“Tomorrow… Are you free?” you hear him speak as you look at your front door through the windshield of his car. You turn your head towards him and smile before you nod. You literally didn’t have any plans at all. You were on vacation. “Well then, I’d like to invite you over. Cook for you. For real.”

You let out a gentle giggle, briefly remembering something he’d said about being unable to boil an egg. You weren’t going to say thank you for the offer, though. “I’d like that. It sounds delicious.” you smile before you lean over the middle console, drawing him in for another intense kiss.

You are quick in removing your lips from his, wanting to leave him craving more. You know he’s craving more already - even though he’d just cum on your stomach, you could easily see the desire lingering in his eyes. You found yourself easily getting lost in his eyes, his brown orbs hypnotizing you to plant another kiss against his lips.

You sigh reluctantly as you pull away from him, getting out of the car hurriedly, not wanting to give into the temptation of being so close to him after what the two of you had done in the office. “I’ll see you for dinner tomorrow, Javi.” you grin before you shut the door, making your way to your front door. When you turn back, he’s driven up to the curb and rolled the window down.

“2B.” is the only thing he says to you, and you tilt your head slightly, not fully understanding what he was talking about. “Apartment 2B.” Your lips tug into a smirk before you nod, and you watch as he speeds off into the night. You let yourself into your apartment and collapse on the bed, so happy you decided to seek Javi out at the office.

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

next chapter

[koniginwrites]

Captured (Dabi x f!reader)

T/W: blood, rape, extreme violence, kidnapping, dacryphillia?, spitting, misogynistic dabi

WC: 1428

PLEASE read the trigger warnings!

A/N: Thanks to the lovely @romancefiend and @doinmybesthere for beta reading

- - -

Of the things the girl never expected, was to be thrown into a fantasy she once considered erotic. She was one who frequently consumed works of fiction that contained topics of repulsion. Gory, gruesome, perverted and cruel. This woman would read endless pages of hard and strange topics, works of make believe, unreal. But to experience these situations first hand was a nightmare, rather than a daydream.

Pulled from her dream of obscureness and comfort by a loud metal door slamming shut, she awoke. Her eyebrows furrowed and she inhaled sharply, shaking herself from the pull of sleep. Though soon, a piercing headache caused her to slow her movements as she let out a groan of pain. Heavy eyelids struggled to open and her gaze met that of a rough concrete floor stained red with what was assumed to be blood. 

“Wh-Where am I?” She mustered out, quietly. Exhausted. Her heart raced as her surroundings became more clear. A small cramped room monochromatic, stained with fluids from victims of whatever atrocities happened before. ‘What happened? How did I get here?’ She thought.

… I was just… I was just walking home. A strange man, covered in grotesque purple skin and staples approached me… I refused conversation… Darkness…

“Good morning.” a raspy voice greeted his new plate of delight. ‘Did he do anything to me? Oh god, what if he touched me? Has he…?’ Question after question raced through the poor girl’s mind and soon enough, panic set in. She struggled against the bindings around her limbs.

It’s just a bad dream. She thought as she closed her eyes. But the all too real tug of restraints reminded her that she was trapped. Bound and clothed in a sweltering room, she began to sweat. Tears followed soon after. So much fear coursed through her as she sobbed into the concrete.

“What’s wrong?” The perpetrator mocked. Black leather boots came into the girl’s line of sight, blocking the stains of blood. The toe of the metal tipped boot came in contact with his victim’s cheek, nudging it up towards himself to see her perspiring and tear covered face. “When a man compliments you, you say ‘thank you’ and smile, right?” The staples in his face pulled harshly on his skin as he curled his lips into a devious smile. 

Maniac.

He crouched down, boney fingers brushing into the woman’s hair soon pulling roughly against the strands. “Right? Instead of ignoring me.” He exhaled loudly, breathing onto the girl’s neck. “Repeat after me, thank you.”

Warmth traveled from the scarred palm, to dirty fingernails and onto the scalp of the bound victim. “Th-thank you.”

“For what?”

“Complimenting me.” Her lips quivered and body trembled in the grip of her assaulter. 

“Good, but obviously your attitude needs some correcting, right?” 

Immense rage filled the woman as she did what she thought would get the maniac to release her. Pursing her lips, she spat at him, hitting him just under his eye. Though he only chuckled in response. A Cheshire grin formed on his burnt face, causing tension against the staples holding clean skin to deformed skin and he spoke low, “I can do that too.”

He recreated her action, spitting onto her dirty, sweaty face. For her, it wasn’t just the grossness it felt to be spat on, it was the sizzling of her cheek and the scorching burn withering away at flesh that the saliva came into contact. 

And she screamed.

The constant thrashing and flailing against the concrete finally caused the monster to lose his grip and balance, stumbling in the fight. In panic, she forced her leg towards her attacker’s chest, landing a swift, successful blow. 

“I admire your will to fight, but honestly, it’s getting you nowhere.” He picked himself up and extended his left arm. Blue embers for in his palm, soon creating a whirlwind of flames in color comparable to that of his cynical cerulean eyes. 

The heat reached her ankles, burning away the restraints but also burning away her mobility. At this point, she was so consumed by fear and pain that the only sound she made was from her choked breathing. 

“Time to have some fun.” The man jostled the weeping woman onto her stomach and sat on her rear. He analyzed her body, seeing that she no longer seemed to fight back and deemed it time to unbind her wrists.

Scorching fingers reach into the girl’s pants, hooking underneath the fabrics, removing everything with little struggle. “What a lovely view.” He licked his lips in curiosity; what to do first?

He landed two harsh slaps against her rear, keeping a hand on each cheek and slowly burning his print into her skin. Her muscles contracted but no sound came from her mouth. His thumbs spread her ass apart, and spat between her legs, returning to her that burning sensation. No reaction. 

“Call me Dabi, dollface.” He spoke as he began removing his belt. “I wanna hear you scream my name.” Dabi stroked along your folds, in a poor attempt to prepare her, but frankly he didn’t care about how she felt, and soon enough penetrated her. Only her eyes fluttered as Dabi stretched her out, tired from the previous torment.

Scratches against her face from the rough concrete added up with each thrust of Dabi’s hips. Her eyes count the cracks on the wall, in the slightest attempt to take her mind off of the horrendous assault against her. But nothing could really distract her from the feeling of these criminal fingers brushing against her hair, and knuckles digging into her wrists as he pinned her down. 

Once Dabi’s thrusting halted, he took time to massage the woman’s shoulder blades. For a brief moment, she enjoyed that feeling. Savoring the gentle hands of a monster giving her a small taste of bliss before violenting spinning her onto her back. 

Those same monstrous hands brush the sticky hair out of her face. She gave no reaction as he resumed his assault, reentering and hastening his pace from before.

She stared into his turquoise eyes, watching his face. Grinning, grunting and painting. He enjoyed this. He reveled in her pain and fear. 

Fingers traced over her clothed breasts exploring her wrecked, bruised and burned body aiding to his pleasure. Dabi ripped her shirt in half followed by her bra giving him full access to the girl’s chest. His hands continued to wander like snakes wrapping their prey in a grip of death. The pinching and pulling made the woman’s skin crawl.

“Ahh. That’s it. Almost there.” He mumbled to himself. His bony pelvis rammed harder into his prey, and faster. The girl’s entire body scraped against the floor as he reached his climax. “Fuck. So warm.” His words slurred and his nails dug into the woman’s hips, enough to break skin. Boiling semen coated her insides. 

“Man, that felt good.” Dabi wiped away his own sweat as he remained inside of her, moving ever so slightly. “Maybe we should go for round two?”

Despite the girl’s refusal, he played with her body, twisting her into different and humiliating poses.

And he goes again.

And again.

And once more.

Smoke rose from Dabi’s body as the victim and attacker became sweaty messes. His final time, he finished while laying on top of her. Finally, he removed himself from inside of the girl to see his own little mess pour out. With a pat on her stomach, he stood up to admire his work.

She panted, struggling to catch her breath and focused on the ceiling. Dabi snickered to himself seeing the state of her pathetic body. “Ah, thanks for the fun.” He adjusted a couple loose staples on his hand. “I might keep you around next time I wanna blow off some steam.”

She rolled onto her stomach and attempted to prop herself up on all fours. Though due to her lack of strength, she ended up crawling towards the back wall. As she moved into a seated position, Dabi redressed himself. She turned back to see him giggling to himself, watching her struggle.

“Here.” Dabi tossed his coat at his victim. “Y’might get chilly. Keep this to warm you up.” Her hands ran over the fabric as it landed on her legs. “Keep it as a reminder for my next visit.” He winked and left the room, locking the door behind him.

His last words stirred inside of the woman as she threw the coat with her remaining strength. He’s going to do it again.

[mollymauk-teafleak]

“I immediately regret this decision.” + ThanZag

Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you liked this!

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Thanatos had been anticipating slightly better weather. Looking back, in all honesty, that made him the fool in this situation. He’d lived here long enough to know that the weather here moved only between shades of slate grey and varying amounts of freezing rain. It had always been a running joke when they would come here for summer vacations as children, that their mother had chosen this particular stretch of coast because she despised the sun. That while geese might fly south for the winter, Mother Nyx fled north for the summer and took her babies with her.

So really, Thanatos had no one to blame but himself for the fact that he was standing on the pebbly shoreline, fighting to keep his towel wrapped around him in spite of the wind and shivering in nothing but a pair of shorts.

Well, he could blame Zagreus of course. But he should have known better than to fall for those pleading eyes.

Those eyes were currently shamelessly dialled up as his mermaid lover lounged in the shallows, beckoning to Thanatos, “It’s really not that bad!”

Than frowned at him, “So I’ll maybe only lose my extremities to frostbite rather than a whole limb?”

Zagreus laughed, not even flinching as incoming waves broke over the back of his neck, speckling his hair with drops of diamond. His tail swept lazily through the water, stirring up foam, glowing with its faint red-gold light that seemed inherent to the scales themselves.

“You’re so dramatic,” Zag chuckled, “You used to come swimming with me all the time, in worse weather than this.”

“Yes,” Than took a hesitant step closer to where the waves lost steam and fell apart against the smooth stones, “I was sixteen and an idiot.”

“And now we’re twenty six,” Zag flashed him a smile that showed his sharp canines, “So come on in.”

Thanatos had to admit, the way the setting sun flashed on the water’s surface invitingly, lighting up stripes of it in flaming orange, was making him forget how cold it would be. Zag’s tail looked like one of those stripes came to life. Fluid, effortless life that burned with its own soft ember light and trailing fins like lingering flames. He remembered how it felt wrapped around his waist all those nights when they were younger, it’s supple warmth.

Zag’s smile had grown, curled at one end into something hungry, like he could read Than’s thoughts. They’d known each other long enough that he could probably read them on his face.

He pushed off the bank along the shore with his muscular arms, slipping into the deeper darker waters. With one hand, skin bright white against the almost black sea, he beckoned.

Than exhaled and let his towel fall to the ground, kicking it back. Eyes fixed on Zagreus, he took one step into the surf.

“I immediately regret this decision,” he said after a moment’s pause, “No sex is worth this.”

“Aw come on!” Zag yelped half with incredulity and half with laughter, “You promised!”

Than grimaced. His toes had lost all feeling and it only really burned right where the water met his ankles. Zagreus had been right, it wasn’t too bad. When he’d been a younger man, he’d thrown himself off the end of the little jetty into much colder water with reckless abandon. With this being where they spent their summers, he and his brothers had quite the warped concept of acceptable swimming temperatures. Freezing became cold and cold became mild. Actual mild didn’t exist this far up the northern coast.

He had learned it was easier when there was a very willing lover in the water beckoning him in.

With a deep lungful of air, Than increased his pace, letting the water slip up his legs and foam around him until he felt the rough pebbled surface under his feet fall away. Then he just let himself pitch forward into it, bringing his arms up to make it a passable dive. As the ocean closed over his head, the world fell into total silence. There was a perfect beat, a single moment of complete noiselessness, where everything seemed to freeze in place.

Before his nerves could light up with the pain of the cold, Zag’s arms closed around him and pulled him up. Than gasped in air, hair plastered to his head and dripping salt water into his eyes. The first thing he heard was Zag’s laughter, the first thing he saw was his smile, beaming proudly.

“See?” he grinned, wrapping his tail around Than’s legs to let the inherent heat of it warm him, “I told you. Not that bad.”

“No,” Than’s teeth still chattered and his breath still came in gasps but his lover ran hot, he just pressed closer to him, “Not bad at all.”

Zag grinned, drifting them back a little until the water gentled and came up to his and Than’s shoulders. Than knew he didn’t need to do anything, just cling to Zagreus, and he would stay afloat.

“Isn’t it nice to meet in the middle, like the old days?” he hummed, gills flaring as he spun them in slow, lazy circles, “Back when we had to sneak around?”

Technically they still had to sneak around. There was a reason they only met at night, there was a reason the only human Zag had felt brave enough to approach was one who lived in an isolated seaside cottage over the summer. One who was his own age, a child and still desperate to believe fantasy stories might be real.

But Than appreciated what Zag meant, he meant the only person in the cottage now was himself, that Zag could shift his form and share Than’s bed as many nights as he was able to sneak away from his father’s castle. Than didn’t have to sneak out of the smaller room he shared with his brothers, tiptoe down the stairs avoiding every one that creaked to undress at the edge of the jetty and fall into Zag’s arms. Now they could share breakfast together, make love in every room of the lopsided little cottage, walk the shore together and kiss.

But yes, it was still very fun to meet in the middle.

Zag was kissing him now, interrupting his thoughts, open mouthed and inviting. He was so warm inside, warm enough to compensate for the cold of the ocean he swam in, warm enough to make some of Than’s biological impulses possible when the freezing water should have meant otherwise. His lungs remembered how to take deep breaths, exhaling into Zag’s mouth, hands breaching the surface to cradle his lover in return. For a long time, all they did was taste salt on each other’s lips, the only sound was the gentle rolling of the waves and their shuddering breaths.

“I supposed I’m the one getting fucked?” Zag eventually gasped out, ever the impatient one.

“Well I don’t have any lube in my pockets,” Than murmured, teasingly licking along his jawline, “And no pockets. So yes.”

Zag had no complaints, purring loudly as he shifted, exposing the part of his long body just under where his pale skin turned into blazing coppery scales. Getting to grips with Zag’s genitalia had needed a long few days of exciting and giggly exploration when they were teenagers but the last few months since they’d reunited, it had all come back to Than promptly.

Now he knew just where to stroke to tease Zag’s slit open, exposing the blushed, slick pink inside of him. He felt his lover’s tail tighten around him and heard him whimper and moan as he gave him perhaps a little more preparation than was necessary.

“Than…” Zag keened, after a particularly teasing thrust of one finger into him, “C’mon…”

“What? My fingers are cold,” Than grinned devilishly, finding his feet on the sand below them, planting himself enough that he could pull Zag towards him, starting to press into that slit.

Zag gripped his shoulders tight, his claws would leave little puncture indentations when they were done, his tail holding him close, “Please, Than. Oh gods…”

Than rocked his hips, managing to find a rhythm even while he felt like he was floating, Zag helping with his slightly scary, moreso thrilling strength, fucking himself on Than’s cock as much as Than was fucking him. Moaning rapturously, he rested his forehead on Than’s, jaw slack, wickedly sharp teeth catching on the sunset.

“That’s it,” he groaned, someone finding words when Than could only grunt and gasp, “There you are, that's where you belong, my mate, mine…”

Than groaned through tight clenched jaws, those words enough that he was suddenly, dangerously close. He tried to warn his lover, struggling to gasp it out but Zag just nodded hungrily, thrusting hard as he toppled over the edge.

Thanatos’ head fell back as his orgasm gripped him, turning his muscles to iron as it crashed over him. He would have slipped under the surface if Zag didn’t recover from his own climax quick enough to tighten his grip on him.

“I’ve got you,” Zag panted, grinning crookedly, “I’ve got you…”

“I know,” Than clung to him, his desperation for closeness having nothing to do with the temperature of the water, “My mate.”

Zag’s smile brightened with sheer delight at hearing Than use his own words, nuzzling him close as they lazily drifted back towards the shore. Though they wouldn’t emerge for some time, hesitant to leave each others arms, the place where the differences between them didn’t feel so stark, where one of them didn’t have to change to suit the other.

It really was nice to meet in the middle.

[turtle-paced]

A:tLA Re-Watch: Fine-Toothed Comb Edition

First two-part episode of the series, and a very important one for the structure of the series going forwards too!

Book 1, Chapter 7 - The Spirit World (Winter Solstice, Part 1)

(0:55) Previously, on Avatar, Aang realised he was ready to hear whatever it was his previous incarnation Roku had to say to him. Katara lost her necklace and Zuko picked it up. Aang’s duty is to restore balance to the world by defeating Ozai, who got tipped off to Aang’s re-emergence by his own spiritual authorities.

(2:05) Airbenders think differently about heights. When Sokka suggests Katara jump off Appa and check out the fluffy clouds below them, she scoffs - but Aang gleefully says he’ll give it a go and launches himself into the air.

(2:17) Aang reports that clouds are made of water. The party will remember this.

(2:31) In this pre-flight era, where there are very few airbenders, the party has an unusual view of the devastation the Fire Nation has caused to the natural environment of the Earth Kingdom right from the beginning of their journey. As Sokka says, it’s like a scar. Attention to detail strikes again - the devastation is on one side of the river, which clearly halted some of the fire’s progress.

(2:37) When the group lands to check it out, the blackened area of the forest is more a burned-out area of the forest. There’s no wildlife around. Katara and Sokka’s differing concerns show up again. Katara checks in on a very upset Aang, while Sokka looks around for the causes of the fire (the Fire Nation).

(2:59) Aang with the heavy questions. “Why would anyone do this? How could I let this happen?” There aren’t any answers yet. Aang knows the world has changed, but he doesn’t understand how (and won’t until well into season three). As for ‘how could I let this happen?’, that requires some self-reflection. When Aang decided to run away the first time, he didn’t have the faintest idea that this, or this sort of thing, would be the outcome. The important thing here is his realisation that he doesn’t know how to be the Avatar.

(3:16) Aang draws a distinction between learning the styles of bending and learning his job. This shows us that Aang thinks of being the Avatar as more than the cool powers. He’s very much aware that being the Avatar comes with responsibilities he’s currently not at all prepared to handle.

(3:35) Fittingly, Zuko makes his re-entrance by wandering into a scene shouting for people (in this case, Iroh) to go places and do things.

(3:47) Once again Iroh advises Zuko to slow down, rest, and maybe practice some self-care. Alas, Zuko’s troubles cannot be soaked away.

(4:10) I think this might be the first time we’ve seen a variation on Iroh’s breath of fire, exhaling steam through his nose to heat the water. 

(4:16) And another instance of Iroh refusing to let Zuko bully him, with a bit of malicious compliance. Zuko wants Iroh to leave the springs now? Okay! What, it was hardly as if Iroh was going to get in the water fully clothed. It’s saying no to Zuko and giving him some self-inflicted consequences of his own poor behaviour, without hurting him.

(4:30) “Are you ready to be cheered up?” Seriously, love Katara. This implies some time passing between the end of the last scene and the start of this one, in which she’s backed off to let Aang work through his emotions on his own. But she’s also not going to let Aang wallow in his problems, and she’s used the time to find something that might help Aang feel better about the problem at hand. She’s proactively dealing with the emotional issues here.

(4:47) What Katara found is acorns. Katara’s not just sitting back and saying “I have hope”, she’s going out and finding things that give her hope, and then sharing them. (And important for her to do, in an episode where she doesn’t have much of a role.) It’s also an important reminder for the group and the viewer - despite the destruction, things can regrow.

(5:11) Yet another person who sees airbending tattoos and thinks ‘aha! This must be the Avatar! Definitely not a descendant of surviving airbenders!’ It’s phrased as “are you the Avatar?”, which leads to an understated exchange between Aang and Katara where Aang looks to her, she nods, and Aang nods at the elder in an affirmative. The message between them being that it’s okay for Aang to call himself the Avatar even though he feels like he’s failed.

(5:22) Shot of another Earth Kingdom village. Those walls. No matter how small the village is, they have walls. Because it’s easy for earthbenders to make them. There has, however, been a recent fire. Several houses are burned.

(5:37) Rumours of the Avatar’s return have reached this tiny village who-knows-where in the Earth Kingdom.

(5:58) The problem the villagers are seeking help with is not the Fire Nation, however. It’s a spirit monster, Hei Bai. Up till now, the protagonists have been dealing with wartime dangers (and Bumi). This brings in one of the more solidly fantasy elements of the story. The spirit has been taking people from the village for the last few nights.

(6:20) It’s established here that the solstices are significant dates, as the natural world and the spirit world are closest at these points.

(7:08) This is one of those places where Aang is completely unequipped to handle Avatar duties. He knows next to nothing about the spirit world. This also lets the audience learn along with Aang.

(7:16) When Katara asks if Aang can help, Aang says, “I have to try, don’t I? Maybe whatever I have to do will just come to me!” Aang’s good points and bad points in a single line. Not helping doesn’t even occur to him, to the point where he sees helping others as his obligation. But there’s not much proactivity on a personal level there either, his first instinct being to hope that the solution will come to him, rather than ‘let’s go out and find this solution’.

(7:25) Love Sokka, too. “Yeah…we’re all gonna get eaten by a spirit monster.”

(8:04) It’s an important thing to remember about Iroh - he’s clever and he’s powerful, but he’s not infallible. As we see here when he’s effectively ambushed. Note how unconcerned he is about missing Zuko’s deadline, by the way.

(8:15) The incident gives the writers a chance to reiterate Iroh’s background. Fire Lord’s brother, famous general. It also gives us a title for him: “The Dragon of the West.” Iroh being captured here and addressed by a title additional to whatever he might have by virtue of being related to the Fire Lord shows us his Earth Kingdom notoriety.

(8:35) This is half-comical given Aang’s actual words, but the music and his solitude on the streets of the village are a reminder that Aang, who is not yet thirteen and who doesn’t know the spirit world ins and outs of his job, is heading out alone to confront a spirit who’s been attacking a village.

(8:44) Sokka is the first to object to letting Aang do this alone. This shows us something about Sokka’s relationship with Aang. We’ve seen Sokka reluctant to help strangers - just last episode, in fact - and we’ve also seen Sokka willing to face down an entire warship by himself to help his community. He hasn’t said it like Katara has, but Sokka’s actions show that he’s come to consider Aang as part of his family.

(9:21) Hei Bai appears and definitely fits the description of ‘spirit monster’.

(9:37) While I’m appreciating characters, love Aang, whose first reaction to a giant and quite possibly hostile spirit monster towering over him is to smile, bow, and politely introduce himself.

(9:47) Of course, the flaw in Aang’s approach is shown when his words do nothing. Hei Bai, enraged by the destruction of their forest by humans, starts rampaging around the nearest human settlement. Aang continues to try and talk even while Hei Bai is smashing buildings. We know that Aang’s pretty adaptable; he just doesn’t want to switch tactics to violence. Admirable, but not always effective, and Aang is slow to recognise and engage with situations where he has to fight.

(10:37) Sokka charges out to fight Hei Bai while Katara hangs back. On Katara’s part, I wonder if this is partially her not trusting her own ability to help in a fight.

(10:55) Aang’s just in the middle of saying “I don’t want to fight [Hei Bai] unless I have to” when Sokka gets snatched.

(11:09) It’s nighttime, and Zuko’s out looking for his uncle. Seems he didn’t leave after ten minutes, in the end. All bark and not a whole lot of bite.

(11:16) When a soldier suggests that perhaps Iroh left, under the impression that Zuko would have left, Zuko doesn’t even consider it. Even if Zuko takes it a bit for granted at this point, this relationship is so important to his character development. Zuko’s father hates him. Zuko’s mother loved him, but also left him, and he’s not privy to her reasons for going. And Zuko can still trust absolutely that Iroh loves him and wouldn’t willingly leave. He just doesn’t think about the implications for another season and a half.

(11:22) Zuko also using his brain here as he spots the reverse landslide. Another important thing to show, given that so much of Zuko’s arc involves him dealing with some realisations that are immediately obvious to the viewer. (He’s on the wrong side of the war, his dad’s a piece of shit, things like that.)

(11:37) Seriously skilful flying from Aang - he’s moving fast, through a forest, after sunset.

(12:00) Sokka gets taken into the spirit world, and Aang crash lands in front of Hei Bai’s shrine.

(12:11) Aang wakes up, and the animators do the heavy lifting in partially concealing how Aang’s been taken to the spirit world (or has partially shifted to that plane? The mechanics are unclear). The orange and yellow of Aang’s clothes are washed out in the nighttime scene, further than they were in the twilight scene immediately before the commercial break cut.

In character terms, Aang is struggling hard with feelings of failure. This is even worse because they’re justified feelings of failure and important things he’s failed at. It’s not fair he has the responsibilities, it’s true he’s a kid. There are mitigating factors here. But having tried and failed to stop the damage to the village and rescue Sokka, Aang’s feelings are valid, and deeper than can be resolved in just the one episode. This goes hand in hand with Aang’s knowledge of his responsibilities as the Avatar. He’s well aware of the expectations and where he falls short. We’ll be coming back to Aang’s self-blame and good/bad responses to failure in future episodes.

(12:23) In this establishing shot of the Earth Kingdom soldiers escorting Iroh, note that they’re barefoot.

(12:32) “We’re taking you to face justice.” Another important thing to remember with Iroh. He spent most of his career trying to conquer the Earth Kingdom. With the exception of the one flashback, the viewer sees the kindly old man who’s trying to help his nephew and, later, free the Earth Kingdom. Not everyone in-universe shares this perspective.

(12:44) As we get from the soldiers continuing to helpfully exposit. First mention of Ba Sing Se, here, and the great siege of the backstory.

(12:59) “After six hundred days away from home, my men were tired and I was tired, and I’m still tired.” With what we later learn about Lu Ten, it very much appears to me that Iroh says ‘tired’ but means ‘grieving’, and this line is a G-rated indication that there were a lot of deaths during this particular siege.

Oh, and also it’s a good lead-in to his ruse. Just as Zuko trusts that Iroh wouldn’t up and ditch him, Iroh trusts that Zuko will be looking for him.

(13:32) Gotta feel so bad for Katara, here. Aside from her own backstory of dead and absent parents, she’s just watched her brother and her best friend vanish in a fight with a spirit, leaving her alone in a foreign country.

(13:38) Katara’s holding on to Sokka’s boomerang.

(13:49) As the sun rises, it’s now clear that Aang’s clothes aren’t just washed out, he’s entirely blue-shaded. With his inability to interact with Katara and the elder, not to mention being translucent, the penny drops and Aang realises he’s in the spirit world.

(14:20) Voice acting! It’s just the one line, but on his own, Zuko is a lot less growly and shouty.

(15:06) After a low-key miserable scene of Aang, Katara, and Appa being utterly unable to comfort each other, Aang shouts at the sky that he needs to talk to Avatar Roku.

(15:17) The introduction of the no-bending-in-the-spirit-world rule.

(15:32) We get a good look at the mysterious light chasing Aang. It’s a dragon (Fang). This is quickly followed by our first look at Roku.

(16:28) Interestingly, Iroh is able to see Aang even when he’s travelling in the spirit world. Much like other things in Iroh’s backstory, this is never fully explained.

(16:44) Iroh might have left his sandal behind in faith that Zuko would be following, but he’s still going to attempt to free himself with some quality briar-patching. Of course his captors are willing to chain him tighter.

(17:06) Here we see Iroh heat his cuffs red-hot the same way he heated the springs he was bathing in. He’s showing us combat application of what he was trying to teach Zuko in the first episode - firebending comes from the breath, not the muscles. So he can still firebend effectively when he’s chained up and unable to use his muscles to their fullest extent. I feel pretty bad for this corporal, whose entire palm and fingers were pressed to red-hot metal for a few seconds. If anything, he’s not screaming enough. Iroh follows that up by startling the soldiers’ ostrich-horses and making a break for it, rather than attempting anything more lethal.

(17:18) Aang and Fang approach a volcanic island and a temple. The temple is five storeys. A lot of stonework and tiling, a lot of gold.

(17:40) So while we’re looking at this heavily gilded statue, I just want to raise one question - who ordered this temple built? Or, at the very least, who commissioned this statue of Roku, the dimensions of which must have been calculated with the uppermost room in mind?

Think about it. Roku was a known opponent of Fire Nation expansionism. Would the Fire Sages spend this much money or place a very expensive statue of the Fire Lord’s political opponent in a temple without the Fire Lord’s okay? As we’ll see in future episodes, they’re pretty involved with the state. Could Roku’s surviving family afford this? Would Azulon or Ozai fork out the cash? I also note that the statue is an accurate depiction of Roku in his latter years, so aside from this being done by a skilled artisan (and hence a $$$ artisan), someone who knew Roku well was involved in the design phase.

I think this temple might be a product of Sozin’s guilty conscience. I don’t think this conclusion was intended, but the show’s later depiction of Roku and Sozin’s relationship makes it an appealing post-hoc explanation.

(17:47) Fang spiritually transfers a bit more knowledge. In this case, Sozin’s Comet, bereft of context. It’s clearly bad, though!

(18:00) Bringing back the point about the solstice from earlier, we see a spot of sunlight approaching the face of the Roku statue. Fits with the exposition!

(18:50) Iroh is quickly recaptured, because he’s one chained-up guy trying to escape over dirt without killing anyone (let’s be real, Iroh could easily kill these guys), being followed by three earthbenders.

(19:07) Katara goes out looking for Aang and Sokka. Mostly, this is an excuse for -

(19:16) - Zuko to spot Appa. He knows that means the Avatar. But Appa’s flying one way, the tracks of the ostrich-horses are leading another, and Zuko has to choose.

(20:18) This week in “it’s really freaking hard to humanely contain benders”, the Earth Kingdom soldiers decide to crush Iroh’s hands. Given that Iroh barely used his hands and that the most significant injury he caused in that escape attempt was to someone’s hands...I’m thinking this is more retaliatory than anything.

(20:25) Zuko arrives to save the day, having chosen his love for his uncle over his quest (and, implictly, over his love for his father). It makes it easier to support Zuko and Iroh in this fight, especially after the hand-crushing thing. Unfortunately, as Azula will prove in season two, this isn’t a one-and-done decision.

Also, off to the right - is that a female Earth Kingdom soldier? I think it might be! The show is welcome to continue proving me wrong about female earthbenders in the background! (I mean, they’re still a tiny and voiceless minority, but there are more than I thought!)

(20:42) “You are clearly outnumbered!” “Ah, that’s true…but you are clearly outmatched.” Damn that’s a line. Especially since the fight bears that out. Iroh doesn’t even firebend, instead using his chains. 

In one particularly noticeable shot, he uses the chains to redirect the momentum of a rock flying towards him. From what we’ve seen of Zuko and Zhao, this isn’t a technique firebenders use much. Even before we’re told Iroh learned from watching waterbenders, we’re shown that Iroh learned from watching waterbenders. This series knows how to do fight scenes - not just how to make them tense, but how to make them show character.

(21:23) After failing the previous evening, Aang is trying again. Good on him.

(22:07) Aang touches Hei Bai and learns/confirms that Hei Bai is the spirit of the forest, and says that now he understands. Hei Bai is angry because his home was burned down. So the war can have effects on the spirit world as well. It’s a two-way relationship.

(22:22) Aang offers Hei Bai an acorn. Hei Bai accepts it, and is appeased. So in the end, Aang didn’t have to fight after all. He could resolve the situation using his words. But that was only possible after he understood what was going on, and only after he had some real help to offer. The series is anti-war, but it doesn’t treat talking as a magical cure-all to conflict.

(22:58) “If only there were a way we could repay you for what you’ve done.” “You could give us some supplies and some money.” Ah, practicality. But again the sort of thing that helps to explain how the group are getting by day to day.

(23:24) We leave off with the hook for next episode, part two. Contacting Roku has to be done ASAP, but they have to go to the Fire Nation to do it. Sounds dangerous!

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.

[honeypiehotchner]

i knew you (Bucky Barnes soulmate AU) -- part three

Okay so...I’m impatient. I know I said tomorrow. But it’s technically tomorrow in like twenty minutes here. Close enough xx.

Also! This part might be a little disappointing/fluffy but I really wanted to speed through this and get to Civil War. Bucky going under the radar for two years is important for the reader as well, so apologies if it feels like I’m just dragging this out! They’ll meet face-to-face again real soon

The Winter Soldier sits calmly while the technician works on his metal arm. Natasha Romanoff had thrown something at him and caused it to malfunction.

His jaw clenches. Memories flash behind his eyes. Zola. The fall. Steve. Cryofreeze.

Almost on a reflex, the Soldier rips his arm out of the technician’s grip. He slams his metal arm into the man’s chest, sending him flying backwards. In a flash, guns are cocked and aimed for the Soldier’s head, but he doesn’t move.

Chest heaving, he remembers.

Steve.

You.

A deep ache settles in his chest.

Oh, God. It was you.

Alexander Pierce steps in and the guns lower. The Soldier’s eyes stay on the ground, but that isn’t what he sees.

What he sees is you.

Vaguely, he hears Pierce asking for a mission report. But there isn’t one to give. Everyone he was supposed to eliminate got away. And two of those people were...friends.

But you...you were more than that. He doesn’t know how, but he knows.

A harsh slap turns the Soldier’s head to the side. It barely hurts, but it’s enough to get him talking.

Confusion covers him. “That man on the bridge.” A pause. “Who was he?”

Unamused, Pierce replies. “You met him earlier this week on another assignment.”

The Soldier’s eyebrows furrow. “The woman he was holding. She was crying. I knew her.”

Pierce looks around. A silent order. Find out who that was. And get rid of her. He pulls a chair over and sits down, getting eye level with the Soldier.

“Your work has been a gift to mankind. You shaped the century.”

The Soldier focuses. Tries to remember. What he has done. What he is trained to do. But every time, he sees your face. Your tears. Your pain. Why are you in pain?

“And I need you to do it one more time,” Pierce says firmly. “Society’s at a tipping point between order and chaos. And tomorrow morning, we’re gonna give it a push. But if you don’t do your part, I can’t do mine. And HYDRA can’t give the world the freedom it deserves.”

The Soldier tries to understand. But all he can see is you. All he can hear is you, screaming at him, struggling against the man’s grip. You were trying to get to him, and he has no idea why. But he knows that he knew you. He knows that you meant something much more.

“But I knew them,” he says, his face scrunching, his mind fighting against itself.

Pierce remains unamused, standing to his feet. “Prep him.”

The ache grows in the Soldier’s chest, knowing what’s about to happen. He doesn’t want to forget you again.

But he has no choice.

Hands push him back, another feeds him a rubber mouthpiece. Metal locks him into place.

The last thing he thinks of before it begins...is you. He watches your face disappear, but at least, he thinks, at least you aren’t in any pain.

The Soldier’s screams echo in the distance as Alexander Pierce gives orders, steam practically coming out of his ears. “Find out who that woman was and get rid. Of her. We cannot risk this again.”

+++

“Oh thank God.” Your best friend tackles you in a hug the moment you enter the safehouse. It’s in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, but somehow it feels like home when you have your best friend with you.

“I’m okay,” you say first, wrapping your arms around her just as tight. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that.”

“Damn right you shouldn’t have,” she chuckles. “But I forgive you.”

You smile into her shoulder, closing your eyes. But when you do, you see Bucky. No-- you see The Winter Soldier.

Your eyes pop open silently, but the hitch in your breath isn’t missed by your best friend. You’re not scared of The Winter Soldier. You should be. He tried to kill Steve. And Nat. And Sam. And probably did kill others, maybe even innocents.

Yet, as he had a gun raised earlier, you were running right to him. Like you’ve lost your mind.

“Hey, what happened?”

“Long story,” you say, pulling back from the hug. “Did you grab the letter? And the sketches?”

“That’s the first thing I packed.”

You smile sadly, whispering, “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs. “Go shower. Try to relax.”

“Try. Right,” you chuckle.

You do end up showering. A hot stream of water on your aching muscles sounded too good to pass up. Whatever that episode of pain was really took a toll on your body, but you remember seizing up, tensing so badly that you couldn’t move. That’s bound to make anyone’s muscles ache.

Thankfully, most of what your best friend packed for you is your comfy clothes. T-shirts, sweatpants, hoodies. A giant hoodie and pair of sweatpants is the best feeling after a long day -- and your day has certainly been long.

Two agents stay inside the house with you at all times, one at the front door and one at the back. The other two circle the perimeter. And you swear you hear a helicopter fly over every few minutes, like it’s keeping watch from above, too. Which wouldn’t surprise you.

“I don’t know whether to feel very important or very imprisoned,” your best friend jokes later when you’re both on the couch.

You scoff, shaking your head. “Probably both.”

Silence hangs around you.

“Did you see him?” She asks quietly.

Slowly, you nod. “Yeah.” Then you shake your head. “But it wasn’t him.”

“What?”

“They did something to him. Brainwashed him, programmed him like a damn--” You stop yourself before you can get too angry. “He looked right at me. And hesitated. Like he recognized me.” You shake your head. “I don’t know, maybe I’m being stupid.”

“You’re not,” she says. “He’s your soulmate, babe.”

“But he didn’t even know me.”

“Babe,” your best friend turns her body to face yours. “This is...a unique situation. I’ll give you that. But just because it’s a little different than from what others have experienced doesn’t mean it’s not real. He recognized you. A little. He wouldn’t have hesitated if he didn’t. Not from what you’re telling me.”

“But he still tried to shoot.”

“Because they did something to his mind, like you said,” she replies, firm but gentle. “It wasn’t him doing that.”

You nod slowly. “It was The Winter Soldier.”

“Huh?”

“That’s what they call him. The Winter Soldier.” You shake your head. “I kept having dreams of him and it was snowing and-- I don’t know why that didn’t click until now.”

“It’s a lot to process,” she shrugs. “I don’t really know how you’re awake right now. I’d be sleeping just to escape it all.”

“That sounds nice,” you admit. “I’d see him again.”

You let a few beats of silence pass before you speak again.

“I can’t stop thinking about...how I just knew it was him. Somehow. I mean, I didn’t know that The Winter Soldier was him, I just knew he was there somewhere.”

“And he was,” she says softly. “I still think you’re crazy as shit for running right into that fight.”

“Me too,” you chuckle. “I’m not afraid of him.”

“Why would you be?” She shrugs. “Your souls have been apart for almost a century. Regardless of what’s happened to him, his soul is still the same.”

“Yeah,” you smile, thinking of the footage in the museum. He looks so much different there with the shorter haircut. But then again, that was seventy years ago. Maybe more.

But his soul is still the same. Deep down, he’s still your Bucky. You just hope he isn’t too far gone to remember that.

+++

Much can happen in twenty-four hours. Much more than you like.

In twenty-four hours time, Steve, Natasha, Sam, Nick, and Maria stopped whatever HYDRA was planning. SHIELD fell and HYDRA fell with it. A team of five agents were gunned down just outside the safe house. You later learned they were sent by SHIELD to kill you, and possibly your best friend had she gotten in the way. Steve was found broken, bloody, and bruised on the riverbank.

And you lost Bucky.

“I don’t know where he went,” Steve says, speaking more than he should with his busted lip. Even in a hospital bed, Steve is still attempting to make things right.

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him firmly, trying to convince yourself that that’s true. “You did the best you could.”

He cracks a small smile. “That’s not what I was expecting you to say.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Steve, you’re in the hospital right now. You, a super soldier, are in the hospital. Obviously what happened was out of your control.”

He turns his head to look away from you. “He recognized me,” he says slowly. “And he said your name.”

Your eyes fall to your hands. Fidgeting with your fingers, picking at your nails. A nervous habit you should probably break before it starts. “Is that all he said?”

“Yeah,” Steve says softly. “The helicarrier collapsed right after and I went down. But he drug me out of the river.”

“He’s still in there,” you murmur, sure of yourself. “He has to be.”

“He wouldn’t have drug me out if he wasn’t in there somewhere,” Steve agrees, turning his head to look back at you. “We’ll find him.”

You smile sadly. “I know you will.” Exhaling, you add, “I can still feel him. Not as troubled. So he must not be the Soldier anymore.” You pause, the thought almost making you grin. “I might be feeling Bucky for the first time.”

Steve smiles, too. “Then that’s all the hope we need.” His eyes shift over your shoulder and he chuckles. “Those two are cozy.”

You turn to see your best friend and Sam standing a little too close, smiling a little too hard. She laughs and reaches out to touch his arm, and you know she’s done for.

“Looks like you guys are gonna be stuck with the both of us,” you tease. “What’s next, anyway?”

“Well, first off, I wanna get out of this bed.”

“You can’t,” you laugh. “Not right now.”

“I know.” Steve groans. “But I’ve got Natasha pulling some strings for me. I’m gonna find Bucky.”

“Nat, huh?” You ask, teasing. “How long has that been going on?”

“It hasn’t,” Steve replies firmly, which only tells you that it has. “Anyway, I’m gonna find my best friend. And he’s gonna meet his girl.”

You can’t help the butterflies that erupt in your chest. Being Bucky’s girl is the only thing you ever want to be in this life.

“Well, if you need help,” you take a deep breath. “You know where to find me.” You give him a sad smile, standing to your feet. You glance back at your best friend and Sam, and you laugh. “Although, I don’t think it’ll be hard to reach us.”

Steve cranes his neck to see the pair hugging with your best friend’s arms around Sam’s neck. “No, I think we’ll be in touch.”

[jarienn972]

Weathering the Storm - Part Four

For a multitude of reasons, it has been ages since I've been able to update this story. I had the chapter all plotted out, but never seemed to be able to find time (or sometimes just motivation) to write. I appreciate those who reached out to me asking if I planned to update it and I thank you so much for your patience! I absolutely plan to finish it and right now, there are 2 more planned chapters to close everything out.

For now though, since it has been a few months, here’s a quick recap of where we left off in the last chapter: Emma braved the elements to investigate the abandoned Sheriff cruiser, and after seeing the dashcam video, knows that her husband is injured after the disastrous traffic stop. She's made the assumption that Killian would try to make his way to the closest dwelling to the lonely stretch of highway - Zelena's farmhouse. We're going to pick up at that same farmhouse as the unrelenting thunderstorm continues. 

If you’d like to catch up from the beginning, you can find all of the current chapters on FF.net and AO3. Tumblr: Part One  Part Two  Part Three

Despite the warm glow from the flickering orange and gold flames in the fireplace behind her chair, the lingering dreariness of the day was wearing heavily on Zelena's mood. The sky was still laden with dull, grey clouds unleashing unholy torrents of rain upon the farmhouse's metal roof and continuous gusts of wind threatened to blow away the fluttering blue tarp which was only barely protecting them from the elements.

Oh, what she wouldn't have given right now if she could still possess the ability to poof them all away from this isolated outpost deep in the forest. Maybe she shouldn't have been so hasty and rammed that beat up old jalopy of hers into the Black Fairy. She wasn't particularly good at driving the beast but perhaps she could have managed to get into town… Oh, heavens...who was she kidding? In this weather, she wouldn't have made it to the end of the drive, and anyway, the ugly, metal death-trap was still sitting on a lot in town, rusting away as it awaited repairs. It hadn't been a high priority to fix when she'd had electricity and a working telephone to call Regina who'd pop in with supplies and whatever if she needed a hand with something. If she couldn't solve the problem with magic from a distance, she'd drive out to help her sister and niece, but she certainly couldn't do that right now.

At least, she could be thankful for the simple fact that Robin would sleep through almost anything when she had a full tummy. She couldn't recall the exact time she'd put her daughter down for her afternoon nap, but she estimated that it had been about an hour and a half, meaning her child was going to awaken soon and Zelena would have to figure out a way to entertain a cranky toddler in a dark, drafty house. For now though, the exasperated mom was enjoying the quiet reprieve from this stress-filled day before Robin was awake and wanting to play ,and then Zelena would also have to figure a way to keep the baby from bothering their guest.

Their guest.

How long had it been now since Hook showed up sopping wet on her doorstep? Two hours? Closer to three? Surely Emma would have realized that something was amiss if she'd not heard from her husband by now. How long might it take before someone realized that he was lying on her sofa right at this very moment? He was still semi-peacefully slumbering after taking a swig of the children's pain reliever which might have taken enough of the edge off to allow him to rest - or he'd just passed out from sheer agony and exhaustion.

Either way, she tried to distract herself with a little bit of reading by the firelight. The dancing flames cast odd shadows across the pages making the text difficult to see at times, but then she wasn't fully paying attention to the prose before her. She could scarcely recall a thing she'd read from the prior chapter, much less the last paragraph. She just needed something - anything - to keep her weary mind occupied during this brief reprieve. She was going bloody stir crazy, even beginning to believe she was hearing things that weren't there. She'd swear she just heard something rapping on the kitchen window, but quickly dismissed the thought, figuring it was just the swirling wind rattling the creaky door.

Until she was certain that she heard the sound of her name being called over the howling of the storm.

**********

Emma had briefly considered poofing herself right into the center of Zelena's kitchen, but decided against it at the last second, instead materializing from a cloud of pale grey smoke on the front porch instead. While she was somewhat protected from the storm by the narrow extension of the roof, rain water poured over the eaves in sheets. Considering that the gravel driveway leading up from the road had morphed into a shallow, muddy lake, the porch was relatively dry in comparison, although Emma wasn't certain just how protected she was from Mother Nature's fury when a bolt of lightning lit up the darkened skies. The tin roof above her head probably wasn't the safest right now…

She took a long stride closer to the door, wiping away some condensation from the glass with her sleeve as she peered through the window. She couldn't make out much inside the empty kitchen as it was fairly dark with a faint orangish glow in the distance. Zelena probably had a fire burning to provide some light and heat to stave off the chills with the power still out. She couldn't hear any voices emanating from the interior of the house, but it was possible that the noise of the rain striking the metal roof was drowning out any sounds from inside. But in the dim backlight provided by the firelight, Emma could make out a dark mass draped around the back of one of the ladderback chairs - a shape that looked decidedly like the collar and shoulders of a coat. A dark coat that had enough of a sheen on its surface to reflect the warm hue of the flames. Just like a certain black leather coat that her husband had been wearing when he departed for the station this morning.

Please, let that be Killian's coat, she begged of whatever higher power might be listening as she knocked anxiously on the window. Not noticing any movement inside the farmhouse, she rapped again, but this time on the wooden door instead of the glass as her sight fell upon a ruddy stain upon the white paint. Was that blood?

"Zelena?" she shouted, hoping that her voice would carry louder than her knocking. "Zelena? Are you in there?" Well, that was a stupid question...Of course she had to be inside. Most people wouldn't leave home with a fire still burning and where exactly would she go? Even if she'd managed to get her crappy car running, there was no way she would have made it into town in this downpour. She probably wouldn't have reached the end of the driveway… "Zelena!" she cried out even louder this time.

Seeing the familiar hue of the former witch's wild auburn hair through the steamed up glass, Emma's nerves abated momentarily and she let out a relieved exhale as the door was yanked open.

"Emma?" a startled Zelena muttered as she found the drenched, blonde sheriff standing at her doorstep, but her mood instantly lifted. "I am so happy to see you! I was hoping that you'd soon figure out your husband came here to seek help."

"Thank goodness. There weren't many places he could have gone, so I was really hoping he made it here. He recorded the whole thing on the dashcam, so I know he was shot. Is he alright?" Emma tried to keep her nerves in check, but as she rambled on, she knew she was failing miserably.

"He's in on the sofa. He's sleeping right now. Well, at least I think he's sleeping… He's been in and out of consciousness," Zelena explained as she waved Emma inside. Emma brushed past the redhead who closed the door quickly before the wind blew any more of the never-ending precipitation into the kitchen. Zelena continued detailing all she'd done to help, even though she doubted Emma heard half of it. "I've tried my best to get the bleeding under control. It isn't near as heavy as it was before, but he still lost a lot. The bullet that hit him went clean through and I don't think anything too vital was struck, but I really don't know for certain. He's still a bloody mess and a bit feverish. I tried giving him some of Robin's baby ibuprofen to help with the pain too, but I don't have a bloody clue how well that worked..."

Half-listening as she rounded the corner into the living room, Emma made a bee-line over to the sofa where she discovered her husband curled on his side with a woolen blanket draped over him. Even with the golden glow cast by the flames, his skin bore a deathly pallor. "Oh, Killian…," she sighed as she dropped to her knees on the floor beside him. She cupped her palm around his cheek, finding it cool and clammy beneath the warmth of her fingers. A muted, but guttural moan escaped his throat as he stirred at her touch. He blinked twice in the low light but as his sight adjusted, his eyelids parted fully to focus on the unexpected, but magnificent face of his true love.

"Swan?" he mumbled, his muddled brain trying to determine if she was real or just a cruel hallucination.

"It's me," Emma smiled, happy to find him conscious and communicative. "I'm here and I'm going to get you help…"

"Now that you can heal him, it'll all be fine," Zelena spoke up. "I would have already done that if I still had my magic, but now Emma can get you all fixed up," she gave a nod to Killian but the expression that crossed Emma's face confused her.

"Unfortunately, it isn't quite that simple…," Emma groaned in frustration. "Because this situation involved criminals from outside of Storybrooke, I had to have David notify the state police and put out a bulletin to watch for the vehicle. They'll have questions about the shooting, and if the deputy who they can see being shot on dashcam footage is suddenly, miraculously healed, those questions are going to get uncomfortable and weird and cast doubt on the whole thing. I don't even think that saying Killian was wearing a bulletproof vest would hold up under the circumstances…"

"So, what does that mean?" Zelena questioned.

"I'll have to get him back to Whale - transport him directly to the hospital…"

Emma was cut off mid-sentence as the storm unleashed a tremendous gust of wind that blasted through the broken window, billowing out the tarp until the nails could no longer hold and the resulting gush extinguished the fire. Swirls of raindrops, leaves and other debris were forced through the opening as the tarp floundered and flopped about the floor. Without a moment's hesitation, she spun around and raised her hands. In a split-second, a magical wave of bright light filled the room, vanquishing the tarp and all of the storm debris as it repaired the damaged window, restoring it to its original state like its twin further down the living room wall.

Zelena breathed a sigh of relief as the threat of further damage subsided for the time being, even though the room was plunged into darkness without the flames illuminating it. She wasn't going to miss that ugly plastic sheet, nor would she miss the drafts and rainwater that seeped in around its edges.

"Thank you for fixing that awful eyesore," Zelena said as Robin let out a terrified wail after being awakened by all of the commotion. "I'm coming, my love," she assured her daughter but she also gave Emma a quizzical look before heading over to the play yard. "Do you think you're going to have to explain that one?" she asked Emma with a gesture towards the repaired window.

"Hopefully, it won't come to it, but I suppose I'll think of something, if necessary," Emma replied as she turned her attention back to her wounded husband while Zelena scooped up a whimpering toddler. "Okay, one crisis averted," she whispered as she gently squeezed her husband's bicep through the blanket. "Let's get you into town so we can get you fixed up too."

Killian gave a weak nod and allowed his eyes to fall closed again as he steeled himself for teleportation, never knowing how rough the landing may be when they re-materialized. The commonplace of magical transport was something this grizzled mariner was still getting used to.

"Take us with you," Zelena interrupted. Unprepared for such a request, Emma glanced upward into the pleading eyes of the redhead who was still bouncing a teary-eyed toddler on her hip.

"What?" Emma stammered, her brow knitted in confusion. Had she heard that right?

"Please… Will you transport us there with you? I promise, we will be out of your way as soon as we get there. I'll call Regina to come pick us up, but I can't stay isolated out here in this bloody storm with no power and no way to get in touch with anyone. I hate not having magic anymore… I don't want to be a bother, but please…?"

"Um...sure, I guess," Emma responded. "For everything you've done for Killian today, I suppose it's the least I could do."

"Oh, thank you! Thank you!" the former witch gushed. "Let me grab Robin's things. I'll be less than a minute!" She scurried into the bedroom to collect Robin's diaper bag as well as a jacket for each of them, then quickly darted into the kitchen to grab the baby's pre-made evening bottle, which the little one eyed greedily as they returned to the living room. Her final task was to toss a pitcher of water onto the smoldering remnants of the fire to ensure it was completely out before they vacated the farmhouse. Returning to Emma's side, Zelena gave her daughter a tight hug and exclaimed: "All ready."

"Then off to Storybrooke Hospital we go," Emma stated, swishing her wrist before the magical cloud enveloped them.

[lilhawkeye3]

Find Your Way Back Home, Ch 5

Riyo Chuchi x Commander Wolffe, Riyo Chuchi x Commander Fox

Rating: T |||| Word Count: 2.1k |||| Set Post Order 66

AO3 Link

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Riyo’s heart was in her throat as she slipped out of Wolffe’s room that morning, hair slightly disheveled from her pillow’s thickly woven fabric. She hadn’t meant to sleep in so late, but tried to crush her lingering guilt by reminding herself that she hadn’t slept that well in months now.

She came to an abrupt stop when she spotted Rex standing in the kitchen, staring out the window at the fields of javun with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. He looked back over his shoulder at her with a soft smile.

“How is he?” Nothing could get by the captain, especially in such small quarters with two of the people he held dear to him.

Riyo offered a tired smile. “Healing. Able to hold a conversation, and be sarcastic,” she added as an afterthought, feeling pleased when Rex chuckled. “I think he’ll be alright.”

The blond’s smile turned bittersweet. “As alright as the rest of us,” he sighed.

Her shoulders drooped. “I suppose so.”

He grimaced apologetically and turned away, back to the window and the world outside. “Sorry, that was rude of me.”

“But not untrue.” Riyo made her way around the kitchen, snatching her favorite mug from the drying rack and a reusable tea bag from her cabinet before preparing a drink with the hot water pot and tea leaves Rex had left out on the counter.

He spoke up as she poured water into the ceramic mug. “I’m glad it was you.”

She nearly spilled the pot all over herself with how much she jolted in surprise. “Pardon?”

Rex was looking at her again, eyes a deep gold in the morning light. “I’m glad it was you here.” He lifted his drink to his mouth, but not in time to hide his sly smile. “I don’t think there’s anyone else that could really help him now. And I know Ahsoka’s been glad to see a friendly face.”

Riyo blinked at him vacantly for several long seconds. “And you?” She asked, choosing to side-step dealing with the confused swirl of emotions that now filled her.

Rex smirked, clearly knowing she was avoiding it. “I found it nice to see that someone held true to their oaths.”

Her mind flashed back to when she’d first met Rex and his men, the renowned 501st Battalion. Orto Plutonia had been an unhappy experience, but one that she had grown much from. Seeing the lives of so many men cut short over miscommunication and greed, learning that her people were in the wrong, treating with a proud nation despite being uncertain of her place.

“‘To die for one’s people is a great sacrifice. To live for them, a greater sacrifice. I choose to live,’” she recited, those words seared into her soul until the day she died. She met his gaze with a steady look and a raised eyebrow. “What do you choose, Rex?”

He met her stare with an equally quirked brow, as if to say I’m here, aren’t I? “I live for my brothers that haven’t been freed. I live for the ones that already breathed their last.” He paused. “I live for her.”

Ahsoka.

“She chose you,” Riyo said slowly, parsing out his hidden message. “She saved you.”

“Yes.”

“She saved you… but at the cost of your brothers.”

He sucked in a breath. “Yes.”

Riyo closed her eyes, feeling the pain that rolled off him in waves. “And you blame her for it, yet you owe her everything.” She opened her eyes, and the devastated look on Rex’s face showed she’d guessed correctly.

“Sometimes, I wish she’d let me die with them,” he whispered into his mug, watching several stray tea leaves swirl in a gentle pattern. “To see them living, but not really alive– ” He trailed off, searching for something, anything to keep him afloat. Riyo rushed forward, gently taking the mug from his hands and setting it aside before wrapping her arms around his waist. She hoped he wouldn’t take offense– they’d never been close– but he readily clung to her, breaths coming in ragged pants as everything finally overwhelmed him.

She wondered if he hadn’t allowed himself to feel until now, in this safe haven on a forgotten planet.

“It’s a fate worse than death,” he finished, fingers clutching at her knitted sweater.

Riyo stroked his back, trying to help soothe him. “It is for you and them,” she murmured. “You can grieve for what you lost. You’re safe here.” She felt him tremble against her and tried to hold him tighter. “Would… would you like to come help me in the fields today? Ahsoka can stay here; she’ll be able to monitor Wolffe and come get us if needed.”

Rex exhaled shakily, but she could feel some of the tension leave him at the temporary escape she was giving him. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

It seemed that Wolffe wasn’t the only trooper under her roof that she’d be helping to heal.

————————

Riyo woke Ahsoka after she’d gone to get dressed for the day. She wasn’t about to leave the house without alerting her friend, seeing that her and Rex disappearing with no notice could trigger a traumatic response. As it was, Ahsoka opened one eye to listen to Riyo’s explanation of where they’d be before mumbling her thanks and burrowing back under her blankets.

And so Riyo and Rex went out into the juvan fields.

They talked while they worked. Rex spoke of the brothers he’d lost, Riyo of the friends among the Corries. Color returned to his face and light to his eyes as the day went on and the memories piled up. By the time the afternoon light began to fade, he was able to laugh over some of the shenanigans his Torrent squad had got up to.

Ahsoka watched them both with curious eyes when they returned, but she didn’t comment. Instead, she told them that while Wolffe had been muttering on and off in his sleep, he hadn’t yet woken up again. Riyo made sure to set aside some of their soup that evening for him, thinking that he might finally be stable enough to eat. When dinner was finished, Riyo left Ahsoka and Rex to their low conversation as they spoke over washing dishes in the kitchen to check on Wolffe. To her surprise, he seemed to just then be waking.

The savory smell of the soup in her hands caught his attention first, and by the way his stomach rumbles, food was definitely what he needed. After a quick check to his bandages, Riyo held the bowl and helped him sip directly from it, finding that to be easier than trying to use a spoon. It was a slow and steady process, but she wanted to make sure Wolffe didn’t eat too fast and consequently vomit it up because his body couldn’t handle so much after so long asleep.

He seemed to be keeping it down well, to her relief, but then Wolffe mentioned needing to use the fresher, and a whole new set of obstacles arose. The first they barely managed to overcome as Riyo helped Wolffe stand by letting him lean heavily on her, and together they shuffled out of the room and to the fresher.

The second wasn’t as difficult physically, but still proved to be problematic on its own.

Riyo glares at him, unimpressed. “Can you even get your pants off by yourself?”

Wolffe’s indignant expression makes her fight back laughter. “Of course I can–” he starts, curling downwards slightly to try and pull them down far enough, but the crunch flares up his chest wound and he hisses. “Fine.”

Riyo sighed. “Wolffe, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before. I had to change you into these when you got here. Besides, I often walked through the Corrie barracks on my own, and one time I made a wrong turn and ended up in the Flash squadron locker room, and–”

“Alright, alright. Your point has been made,” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, and she finally caved in and laughed.

“Come on, then.” He held still as she carefully pulled down the sweatpants and underclothes, being sure not to aggravate his thigh injury. She’d been honest about seeing him bare not bothering her; anatomy was anatomy, and it was nothing to be ashamed of or shy away from, especially when acting as an impromptu medic. “There, is that good?”

“Yeah, I can–” Wolffe shifted slightly and accidentally put weight on his bad leg, nearly falling if he hadn’t tightened his hold around Riyo’s shoulders. Her hands shot out to brace his waist and keep him from toppling over.

“You’ll be able to do this alone soon, but not yet,” she reaffirmed. Closing her eyes, she jerked her chin towards the toilet. “Get busy, soldier.”

“Hilarious,” Wolffe deadpanned, but Riyo could feel him relax under her fingertips. She’d hoped her nonchalant manner would be similar enough to any medical care he’d had before, and it looks like her bet had paid off. She was a statue, solid and silent next to Wolffe as he relieved himself for the first time since waking. He was trembling from standing for so long by the time he finished, and didn’t say a word as Riyo helped him redress, wash off, and return to the bedroom. She knew how hard it was to accept help after spending so long being someone others relied on, and to be in a situation where he had no other option than to accept her generosity was bound to be even more difficult.

The unwitting sigh of relief that slipped through his lips as she guided him to lay back down on the bed was evidence of how taxing the short trip was. It worried Riyo. If he was to try and go anywhere further than the fresher, he’d need someone much stronger than her to steady him, and she didn’t know how long Rex or Ahsoka were planning to stay. She was already surprised they’d remained for this long, but she figured Rex wanted to make sure his brother was definitely alright before leaving him again.

“Thank you.”

She looked up from maneuvering the blankets back over his legs at Wolffe’s raspy voice. He was watching her again, appearing just as defeated as he had in the low light the night before. His eyes were flat, his face shadowed and paler than it normally was, which only served to heighten his haunted form.

“You’re welcome,” she finally replied after several moments of silence. “How do you feel now?”

He closed his eyes and let his head sink back into the pillows. “Tired.”

Riyo smiled lightly. “You need to rest. Can you drink some water before you go back to sleep?”

Wolffe hummed, which she took to be affirmative. When she returned with a mug of cool water, it was to find Wolffe had already propped himself up and was looking somewhat expectantly towards her. She held the mug to his lips again so he could drink and distracted herself by watching the way his eyes fluttered shut as he emptied the mug. With that done, she set it aside on the bedside table and hovered in case Wolffe couldn’t arrange himself comfortably on his back. To her delight, he was able to do it himself, albeit with shaking arms. Some progress was better than none at all.

Dusk was truly settling in and the room was beginning to grow darker with each passing second, so Riyo murmured a polite excuse and moved to leave. She was stopped by Wolffe’s hesitant call of her name.

“Yes?” Hopefully he wasn’t in too much pain…

“Can you…” His words died off as he gestured weakly towards the floor next to his bed.

Oh. “Of course I’ll stay,” Riyo agreed. “Let me wash up and change, and then I’ll be back.”

————————

His eyes were closed and his chest rose and fell in a steady, slow rhythm by the time she slipped back into the room. His arm dangled awkwardly off the side of the bed so his knuckles brushed the chilled floor. This time Riyo was the one to take his hand in hers and rest them on her pillow, next to her head. He was warm and solid, something real that grounded her as she drifted off to sleep.

It was too dark for her to see the weary smile on Wolffe’s face as his thumb rubbed gentle circles against her palm before he too was out like a light.

[wrienne]

My Cheating Amnesic Fiancé

Chapter 4: The Accident

He didn't follow you. But you knew he had seen your tears. You attempted to wipe them away as you hurried out of the stadium. You didn't know why you were crying. You should be shouting in glee and celebrate Jungkook's betrayal. You were free.

Why then, did it hurt so much?

Se-Eun’s face immediately turned serious when she saw you, and she silenced her tired, irritated mother and Min-Ji and Yeon-Woo. Something in your expression must have warned her and the others not to speak to you, for they remained quiet the whole ride home. Se-Eun’s mother made sure to drop you off first even though the ride to Gangnam would take the longest in addition to being a detour from the stadium.

“Call you tomorrow?” Se-Eun asked after you thanked her mother. Her eyes held concern.

“Sure,” you told her as you exited the car. You found yourself sounding much harsher than you had wanted, so you added, “thank you very much for the ride.”

Her mother nodded with a face so similar to Se-Eun’s that, when you had first met her, you had thought they were far-apart sisters. She was quite young too, having become a mother at 22. “You sure you don't want to sleep at ours? I know it's school tomorrow, but Se-Eun told me your parents are in Japan and would be there until next week.”

“I'll be alright,” you said quickly. “I'm used to it.” You obviously didn't feel like hanging out at the moment. Even though Se-Eun was more tactful than most, she wouldn't be able to stop herself from asking you what had happened.

And you definitely didn't want to have a repeat of Jungkook’s not-really-yet-actual infidelity. Although, it wasn't as if you could talk about it even if you wanted to.

“See you!” Se-Eun and the others said. You could see the curiosity brimming over in her friends’ eyes.

You managed a weak smile. “Yeah.”

It was empty in your parents' apartment. A note on the refrigerator door reminded you that they were away on a combined work and vacation trip in Osaka together with Jungkook’s parents. All four of them were gone until Saturday. That meant that if you told your parents now, Jungkook's parents would also know and they would have six days to argue.

You hesitated to dial your dad. Perhaps you should tell him and your mom face to face. Although that wasn't really a valid excuse since there was something as simple as a facecam option on KakaoTalk. Still, you found yourself reluctant to make the call.

With a tired exhale, you went to rummage your cupboards for a packet of noodles. You had missed dinner due to Se-Eun’s sudden invitation and your stomach had given up growling hours ago. Also, you just felt like eating something bad.

You refused to acknowledge the reason why, though.

While you waited for the water to boil, you readied a tray with chopsticks, a spoon, some water and a tiny serving of kimchi, so you could bring the food to the living room. You were used to eating alone. When your grandparents on your father’s side had been alive, you had almost always dined with them whenever your parents were away. It was the least they could do after having grown too old to travel, thus passing on the responsibility of being the head representative of Phoenix Inc. to your father. But ever since your grandma had passed and your grandpa had become sick due to his grief before slowly slipping away five years ago, you had dealt with food yourself. You had never known your grandparents on your mother’s side, for they had passed before you were born, and none of your other relatives lived even nearby Seoul.

It didn't matter much, though. Loneliness had been your companion through life as far back as you could remember. The curse of fortune, you reckoned.

You placed the square of noodles into the steaming hot water and poured the packets of spices and dried vegetables in after. The tiny screen on the microwave said 23:31. You would hate yourself for eating that late into the night instead of sleeping, especially since you were supposed to go to school tomorrow at eight in the morning. But as you stirred everything around, watching the noodles and the vegetables soften and the clear water turn reddish, you found yourself feeling eerily awake.

You reluctantly recalled the expression on Jungkook’s face. It had almost seemed like he had wanted to add something to your conversation. Something vital. What could it have been? He wasn't stupid enough to think he could get away with a girlfriend while being engaged to another, was he? No, you didn't think so. There had to be a reason - no matter how bad or unexpected - why he decided to remain with you if now his heart belonged to her.

“Stop it,” you mumbled underneath your breath. “Get him out of your head, he's not worth spending brainpower over. Just call your parents tomorrow morning, since they’re probably sleeping now anyways. Let them handle this poor investment of their only daughter.”

Your voice sounded bitter. Your face probably looked bitter. But hey, at least you were out of a potentially devastating marriage. You didn't know what you would have done if you found out about Park Yi-Jae after the walk to the altar. Let's just say, a packet of noodles in the middle of the night would have been the least of your concerns.

You were seated in front of your TV, absentmindedly flipping through channels when you finally felt sleep creep over your eyelids and body. Your saucepan had cooled since long and your glass of water had been emptied and filled, twice. Turning the TV off, you headed toward the kitchen with your dishes when an unexpected sound pierced through the silence.

Ring, ring, ring.

It was your phone. You darted the last meters into the kitchen, having forgotten the phone on the kitchen island, and picked it up. You didn't recognize the number.

Why would someone call you in the middle of the night?

Scratch that, it was past the middle of the night, you realized as you eyed your microwave. However, there wasn't really that much time for you to think, so you, without considering the possibilities, simply answered.

“Hello?” you said hesitantly.

“Er...” a low, male voice began. “Who is this?”

“Shouldn't you know since you called?” you parried, instantly growing suspicious. The person sounded vaguely familiar, though you couldn't put your finger on who it was.

“Well, it’s the only number I haven't already called on this phone and it doesn't exactly say the proper name of a person.”

You frowned. “What?”

You suddenly heard some voices in the background near you - or rather, the speaker on the other line - and you discerned, “He actually cracked the code!” and “Who are you talking to?” until finally: “Taehyung, give me the phone.”

There was some rough scratching in your ear. Your frown deepened when another male’s voice spoke to you.

“This is Kim Sejin, one of the head managers of the Bangtan Boys.”

“Okay?” you said slowly.

“Are you related to or friends with Jeon Jungkook?”

“I wouldn't say either of those applies,” you answered, feeling cold at the mere mention of his name. “But I do know a guy with that name, who just happens to be in Bangtan.”

The voice sighed. It was a long, weary exhale, and suddenly you tensed.

Suddenly, you knew something was terribly wrong.

“There… there has been a severe accident. If you could come to Asan Medical Center as soon as possible, that would be very helpful. Do you need help getting here?”

You simply stood there, numb.

An accident?

“What kind of accident?” you heard yourself ask.

“It'll be easier to explain once you're on place,” said Sejin impatiently. “When can you get here?”

“I... I can be there in twenty if traffic is good,” you heard yourself say.

“I'll meet you at the front desk.”

The whole ride there, you were so concerned you couldn't even sit still. You hadn't even bothered calling your parents chauffeur. The cab driver gave you odd looks while you fidgeted, scratched your arm and did and undid your hair. You couldn't care less that you looked like you had taken a dose of something, and something cheap and really poorly made at that. You were too busy worrying.

What had happened? Why was Jungkook at the hospital? No matter how much you enjoyed seeing him lose his composure or fumble, you would never even consider wanting him hurt. Not even once, not even a little. It didn't matter what he had done to you - you would never ever, ever wish harm upon Jeon Jungkook. Scumbag and cheater aside, he was the son of your parents' closest friends - and one of few constants that existed in your life. Even if he was an unfriendly one.

Also, there was that one time when you were both children that you had yet to repay him for.

After paying the driver, you sprinted into the main doors of AMC. A middle-aged man in quite a good physique stood by the front desk and furrowed his brows at your abrupt entrance until recognition lighted his eyes.

“(Y/F/N)?” Creases appeared in his forehead, and he raised an eyebrow. “Was it you I was speaking with?”

“Yes,” you quickly replied. “Though don't say my name too loudly.”

There were a surprisingly low amount of visitors or patients, though considering the time of the day - or were you supposed to say night? - perhaps it wasn't that odd. Yet, considering the guy hospitalized, you had expected some kind of paparazzi.

“Pleasure meeting you finally,” the man said and reached out his hand. “If only the situation had been different, I might have actually meant it. I'm Kim Sejin.”

“Likewise, and yes, I figured. Where is the media?” you asked after shaking his hand. His hand was heavy, calloused. “Shouldn't they be here, being vultures or parasites or whatever else they call journalism?”

Sejin let out a tired chuckle before turning sober. “It happened privately, and much too sudden. We were fortunate with that, at least.”

You swallowed hard as your heart started beating faster. “Where is he? What happened?”

“Follow me, I'll tell you meanwhile.”

He began walking down the eastern corridor, which fortunately didn't say critical care. You obeyed, walking next to him while you tried not to think about what horror might have befallen Jungkook.

“I don't know why he acted the way he did,” began Sejin, then gave you a sharp glance. “But after you two had 'talked', the kid was devastated. I thought he would cheer up after some drinks in celebration of the concert. He did, too - at least for an hour or so he seemed happy. Then, all of a sudden, he decided to bolt out onto the street, shouting something about ‘making things right.'” Sejin grimaced. “He didn't see the car, or at least I don't think he did.”

“He would never commit suicide,” you told Sejin firmly, remembering a scene from years back. “He loves his singing and dancing too much for that.”

“I really hope so.”

“Believe me,” you said as you did your very best to fight back the anger rising within you at the memory. Old bruises on young skin. Alcohol and smoke-laced words. “Jungkook has been through some terrible things in order to reach where he is today. He wouldn't give it all up just like that.”

Sejin gave you an inquisitive look but you shook your head. This wasn't your story to tell.

"Besides," you added with a half-hearted smile. "He would never die for me."

“Very well.” He paused outside a room. Again, his features turned serious. “This is it. He is awake and although the tests and scans aren't completely finished, the doctor thinks he's fine. She said he could count himself lucky that he only broke his arm, even if it was his right one.”

“Well then,” you said and put your hand on the metallic door handle, feeling a wave of relief sweep over you. “Why did you sound so worried earlier then? You told me it was a severe accident.”

“There is this one detail…”

You rolled your eyes. “A scar on his pretty face won’t dissuade any of the fans’ from supporting him. In fact, it’ll probably make him look a bit tougher and even more desirable. That’s nothing to be ashamed of - on the contrary, actually.”

Kim Sejin pursed his lips before speaking. “It’s not his face that’s the issue.”

And the next few words he said would come to permanently change your life. For better or worse, you didn’t know. At least not yet.

“He is amnesic, (Y/N).”