#I don’t think Disco is failing just because it takes a pause and stops taking itself seriously every once in a while | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 10 months ago

Text

Javier is standing before you. No shirt on, jeans unbuttoned. Sweat on his golden chest still casting an ethereal shine. He’s holding a fresh glass of water. Your dehydrated body salivates. He’s not a mirage in a desert, though. His shirt is still on your floor with yours.

he's still here!!!!!!!!!

“That fast? Without a shirt?”

it's probably weird for me to take out a single piece of dialogue like this but i just feel like this specifically really caught me as something that encapsulates his voice

He pulls you towards his broad frame and holds you tightly. Pressed against him, chest to chest, you listen to his deep, slow breathing. Skin to skin, he co-regulates you like a baby, fragile in his arms.

this is the only that i want with a man, not kidding, like i could do a self-psychoanalysis here but i can *feel* this right now. it hurts it hurts it hurts (i hate that my love language is physical touch! i want him to do this to me!)

You wait for his rejection. An excuse. A line. A wink and a slap on the ass. A reason to stop fighting and drown.

yes, yes, yes. even tho reader is the opposite of me, like i am an open book and in a relationship will give myself to someone fully just like that, i love this. the juxtaposition, her thinking she wants him to play it off (us both - me and reader- believing he will) but admitting that she *does* truly want to let her guard down

A little light shimmers behind your ribcage. The light in your chest flickers again. It’s dim, but still, it could guide someone through the dark forest of viscera in your chest cavity to your heart.

this partially gives me a feeling specifically related to disco elysium (dolores dei with her golden lungs) so that might not mean anything to anyone else, but even without that, this imagery is so beautiful. the dim light, guiding him to her heart.

He runs his thumb across his bottom lip in thought. You wonder if that’s one of his tells. It’s kind of a slutty one,

slut slut slut!!! it's that moment where he's flirting with christina and says that he "just wants to talk"

“I don’t think so,” he decides, “maybe early on.”

i love angsty javi :(( who tried so hard and failed (at least in his own mind)

Time weighted down by the tension. You pause. His hand is heavy, dead weight in yours, letting you have him.

the thing about time again. so good. and him giving himself over in the same way that reader did during part one

But his cock refuses. It pokes and prods at your soft belly and lower back. Teasing. Begging to be scolded for disobeying. Protesting in opposition to Javier’s earnest affection.

this is so real. he can't help being kind of a horndog (if you will), but he's such a lover. javi falls in love with every woman it's canon

“No, baby, you can touch your greedy cock, not me.” A whiny little groan comes out of him, prickling with need. “Slowly,” you add, watching as he obeys. His hand pumps slowly.

add this to the list of things i want do to him

You bite sharply at his nipple, and he yelps and gapes at you. You straddle his waist and give him a stern look.

stop making me think about his nipples!! i want to bite him so bad!!!!!!!!!! istg

“When your cock is in my mouth, my pussy gets jealous. She’s too empty,” before he can respond, you drag his hand through your obscenely wet folds.

i'm so bad at writing reader talking dirty (because i'm such a quiet person in a sexual environment) and holy shit this was so hot!!!!!!!!! i love her

A single thought crosses your mind like a brilliant marquee on an empty boulevard.

gorgeous gorgeous line of imagery

But you like having him spread out on your mattress in the morning. You’d like to hear more of his voice.

don't ask why this made me tear up (my period lol) but for some reason "you'd like to hear more of his voice" makes me feel something. it's like how she doesn't care about her ex's on the answering machine bc she's already moved on (but also like a million other inexplicable emotions for me)

“A ride, hm?” His voice melts over the top of your head. You’re not listening to the words. Floating in a cloud. Just the baritone of his voice keeping you in the air. “C’mere, I’ve got a ride for you, cariño,” he growls into your hair before pulling you all the way on top of him. You shake with airy laughter, sitting up. Your laugh lights up his eyes. He looks at you like he wants more. It’s enough.

yes, yes, yes. such good characterization of him. and i love the way they feed off of each other, the chemistry (reminds me of javi and helena where you can just *feel* it emanating through the screen)

if you know anything about me, you know that i *hate* happy endings (usually). i love when people don't end up together bc i'm a miserable woman inside BUT i really liked this! because it didn't feel over the top, it was so subtle, not like a love at first sight (nonsense) situation but a realistic progression

10/10

Maladaptive Coping Mechanisms

Part 2

Pairing: Javier Peñal x f!reader

Summary: Looking for an escape from a horrible day, you take a sexy stranger home from the bar.

Warnings: smut, pwp, dom reader/sub jav undertones, switch reader/ switch javi undertones, oral sex, piv sex, AU unprotected sex has no risks bc it's fic, pwp but some feelings involved, pet names, dick & pussy pronouns,

Notes: still practicing, would love feedback, constructive criticism, or delusional inspiration <3

thanks to @miss-oranje-disco-dancer for your thoughts on part 1, i hope this part lives up to the first, and to @gothcsz for encouragement, and the kind anon who asked for part 2

WC: 5.3K

AO3: here

Part 1: here

It hurts gasping to catch your breath. Lungs filled with water. Eyes shut so tight a dull headache starts behind them. Every second feels like an hour. In your empty room, alone in your bed. Drowning. Sweat cooling and drying on your skin as the airconditioner hums. A sticky, wet pool of come between your legs. Damp, sweaty sheets. Great, add them to the laundry pile and everything else from your life you’d like to toss out the window. And over what? A man you said ten words to before your smile and fingers digging into his bicep begged him to fuck you?

When you open your eyes, you can still see his staring back at you deep, warm brown. A new mirage to haunt your mundane existence. You can still hear his baritone voice scratching your ears. You blink and blink, but it doesn’t fade. Javier is standing before you. No shirt on, jeans unbuttoned. Sweat on his golden chest still casting an ethereal shine. He’s holding a fresh glass of water. Your dehydrated body salivates. He’s not a mirage in a desert, though. His shirt is still on your floor with yours.

You scowl at him, drawing a confused look from him.

“Something wrong, cariño?” he asks pointedly.

“No.”

He sets the water down but doesn’t move closer. He gives you a look. Like he knows your ‘no’ was bullshit. How would he know? He doesn’t know you. Irritation creeps in, replacing the suffocating emptiness. He places a hand softly on your thigh. Gentle so you don’t bolt and run into the street to get hit by an unsuspecting driver in the dark, unable to see you until their headlights flood your eyes and reflect.

“Thought you’d left,” you answer quietly but honestly. You don’t know him. Why do you care if he thinks you look pathetic?

“That fast? Without a shirt?”

You shrug.

“You want me gone?” He asks, revealing nothing about his own desires. Stoic and frozen to avoid bias.

“No,” you shake your head, grab the water, swallowing and swallowing. It's so cold it hurts. You hope it never runs out. He can’t see who you really are if you’re hiding behind a glass. Despite your wishes, the glass runs dry. Javi takes it from you and sets it down.

You look at the man in front of you with sober eyes. He’s incredibly handsome. Without being fueled by blind rage, alcohol, or a contagious horny fever, you aren’t quite as confident. In fact, you suddenly feel overcome with vulnerability. A cord of insecurity wraps around your throat, constricting. You reach for another cigarette to escape the sensation, but Javi intercepts. He takes your hand in his, pulling you towards him until he gets you out of bed and standing before him. He pulls you towards his broad frame and holds you tightly. Pressed against him, chest to chest, you listen to his deep, slow breathing. Skin to skin, he co-regulates you like a baby, fragile in his arms.

You fight against it. Feeling pathetic. Unable to bare your fangs. Unable to slash with your claws and push him away. He holds you too tight. A heavy lump in your throat renders you unable to speak. Too raw. You’re lost at sea. Circling a whirlpool of dark thoughts. You wait for his rejection. An excuse. A line. A wink and a slap on the ass. A reason to stop fighting and drown. You shouldn’t care if he leaves or ruminate on what he says. He was a distraction. A hot, talented, unforgettable distraction. Another cigarette to burn down to your fingertips and discard in the pile of ash.

As if, once again, he could hear your hurricane of thoughts bellowing and howling for your attention, Javi shushes you.

“Quiet.” He runs his fingers up and down your spine. A little light shimmers behind your ribcage. His touch is soothing, and his voice is grounding as he hums into your ear about how soft your skin is. You inhale, your face pressed against his body. He’s spicy, earthy, and smoky. You bite and lick at the flesh you can reach. A barely there noise rumbles in his throat, only for you, only for the ear flush against him, flesh and blood.

“Shhhh,” he murmurs, “enough.” The light in your chest flickers again. It’s dim, but still, it could guide someone through the dark forest of viscera in your chest cavity to your heart. You shudder. Letting someone follow that beacon through the labyrinth to your jagged, glowing soul? No. What if they see the ugly shape, naked and scarred and bruised? What if they know what you need? What if they give it to you altruistically.

A stony scowl sets in place. Corners of your mouth weighed down and brows drawn tight. You break out of his hold. Rough and harsh against the warmth between your bodies.

“How do you know?” You demand an answer.

“Know what?”

“Why are you shushing me?”

“Too loud up here,” he taps the pad of his finger to your temple. A fissure streaking down your stone barricade.

“How do you know?”

“You have tells.”

“You don’t know me like that,” you jab a finger at his chest. Hostile and baiting.

“I’m observant,” he says like it’s a reasonable explanation, unperturbed by your bristling. You stare at him expectantly, waiting for more. Might as well cross your arms and tap your foot. Observant? What the fuck does that mean?

His hands flex at his sides, his mouth twitches, and then he rolls his shoulders, staying loose and relaxed. Like some thought just rolled through his whole body. “I’m not a good guy,” he says like it’s a fact. Not a threat or self-deprecating. Neutral.

“But, I know what I’m good at,” he continues, “you clench your jaw, start breathing shallowly, and your eyes–”

“Got it. I’m a walking billboard,” you cut him off sharply.

“No.”

You stare back at his face. Unreadable. You wonder what his tells are.

“I’m observant,” he repeats. You raise an eyebrow at him. “And,” he pauses, “I may have some special training and experience.”

“In …observing?”

“Something like that.”

“What are you Javi? A PI? Secret agent man? FBI?”

“DEA.”

“DEA?”

“Formerly.”

“Formerly? Did you get fired? Caught on the take? Testing the product?”

He snorts at you. You cracked a smile out of him. It softens you. A playful ease reemerging.

“Retired.”

He’s a man of few words, it seems. His walls have a strong foundation. You scrutinize his face and body swiftly and blatantly.

“You either have some freakish age-defying genetics, or the DEA retirement age is earlier than I thought,” you muse, earning a little huff of air that sounds like a stifled laugh from him.

“Chose an early retirement; resigned.” Something else is on the edge of his tongue. It doesn’t formulate.

“Did you like it?” You ask with sincerity. He blinks. Unprepared for that question. Shit, was that the wrong thing to ask? You notice the lines in his face. He runs his thumb across his bottom lip in thought. You wonder if that’s one of his tells. It’s kind of a slutty one, you think to yourself, suppressing a smile as you focus on his mouth. His lips. Soft and plush. The way they fit against yours–

“I don’t think so,” he decides, “maybe early on.”

You smile up at him, “s’good that you’re out of it then,” you say with an assertive nod.

He nods back with a deep exhale. Release. Like he’s letting go of something, but his eyes seem unfocused now. Another tell? Maybe you need special training to know. He seems far away in his head. Withdrawing. No, you want him to stay present with you. You liked how it felt when he appeared connected. Here. With you. You liked his confidence. The chemistry egged you on like you both were in on a secret. You think you might know how to bring him back. Plus, he needs it, you decide. You aren’t done with him, and he hasn’t disappeared completely. You readjust internally. More. You’re still smiling, but with an edge he hasn’t caught yet.

“Hey, Javi?” You purr.

“Hmm?” Still faraway.

You pick up one of his hands in both of yours and kiss each finger. Watching his face. Looking for the light behind his eyes. The tactile sensation draws it out like a stagelight, he’s fixed on your mouth. The size of your hands around his. The hunger in your eyes when you look through your lashes at him.

“What else are you good at?” You drop your voice. Your demons chitter and flap around the room. Maybe they’re chasing his. You drag his fingers down your body. Slowly. Both your heads droop, chin to chest, watching the private show. Just for you, except it’s for him. Between your breasts, down your soft belly. Lower and lower. Breathing your shared hot air. All you can hear is the fan in the airconditioner and your pulse. Time weighted down by the tension. You pause. His hand is heavy, dead weight in yours, letting you have him. You reverse, tracing back up, the same path, until you’re about to kiss his fingers again, but instead you wrap your lips around one and suck.

“Fuck,” his eyes widen briefly, and his jaw hangs slack. You pull off his finger wetly. Alluring. You don’t have to act. The expression forming on his face brings out your devious seductress. Smiling, wide. You bite your lip, toning it down. Batting your lashes at him. You’re like an image from a dream he’s been having since he was a teenager. He hopes he doesn’t wake up from it.

“Javi?”

“Yes.”

“What else are you good at?” you repeat. Tolerant of his lapse in responding. For now.

The switch flicks. He regains autonomous control of his limbs. Hands curl around your form, until one rests along the back of your neck, fingers slid into the hair at the base of your skull. The other wedges between your legs. Hot against the sticky mess you’d been forcing yourself to ignore since he first got out of your bed. He’s here, back.

“Good at making a mess of this pretty little pussy.”

“Mmm,” you agree. His voice unlocks something ravenous.

“Good at making you come wrapped around these fingers,” he slips and swirls them through the mess between your legs. Obscene.

“Mmm.”

“Good at filling you with this cock until you forget how to say anything ‘cept for ‘please, Javi’,” he declares as his other hand wraps yours around his growing length.

“Yes.”

“Good at giving you something to feel,” he continues on. He is no longer a man of few words; he’s not a laconic lover. A filthy little devil dances on his tongue. He’s a willing vessel. Tugging at your hair and slipping through your folds.

You giggle airily, and he pauses his running list of sex skills, waiting for an explanation. What could possibly be funny to you right now.

“Giving me something to feel,” you slip between another giggle. “Right now,” you pull at his wrist, “I feel like we could use a shower before we keep going. We’re messy.”

He laughs with you, and you adore how his eyes crinkle when he smiles wide.

You wash each other in the shower with care. Roles reversed from the cab of his truck, you sternly demand he behaves in the shower, citing an unreliable hot water tank. It’s hard to resist fooling around covered in soap, but he holds up his hands in surrender. He promises to behave. But his cock refuses. It pokes and prods at your soft belly and lower back. Teasing. Begging to be scolded for disobeying. Protesting in opposition to Javier’s earnest affection. He’s gentle washing your back. Vulnerable letting you wash his. It’s rejuvenating. He cleared your mind earlier, and gave you something to feel, with care and attention. You commit yourself to returning the favor. You’ll give him a break from whatever led him to brooding on a barstool.

You have a feeling he doesn’t give up control very often. He’s such an attentive listener, though. He’ll do great, you decide.

He knows something has changed. Wretched observant thing he is.

You are busy thinking, but you don’t have the same look on your face as you did at the bar or when he came back to your bedroom after getting more water. Your mind is racing, but with vigor. It radiates through the hot steam. A sparkle in your eye. Fluid movement. As if it were all premeditated, you dry off and direct him.

He’s bewitched by the riddle of you. Bold and quick witted, but raw and honest. It’s easy to notice when you’re lost in your head, but he can’t predict you. Time speeds up and slows down in your presence. Like he was knocked out cold, face to pavement. Then thrown in the backseat of a speeding car, but it’s on a cross country trip. When he makes eye contact with you in the rearview mirror from the backseat it’s unnerving. Is he your hostage? Were you the getaway driver?

You catch him drifting away. Naked and wet in your too bright bathroom, exposed like he’s on an operating table under the bright fluorescent lights. You watch as he towels off on autopilot.

He realizes he wants to stay longer, not because he knows the broken look from your face earlier, but because something else already stitches you together. You’re peculiar. Direct. Expressive. His speed. Some unspoken understanding, resolute and vibrant. Cutting through the void of the unknown. Real. He can read when you disappaer, but he can’t predict you.

Javi shakes his head to himself, lost in this train of thought. You’ve known her for a few hours. A couple drinks, sex, and a shower, he reminds himself. He also knows how you taste and how you feel wrapped around his cock, whining please, and that thought fans the flames.

Enough. You decide. He needs this.

He smells fresh and sweet from your body wash as you lead him back to your bedroom. He pulls your back into his damp chest, running his hands along your body and nearly purring in your ear. Good.

You whip around and take a step back, surprising him. He hesitates. You’re analyzing. Calculating. Your eyes drag over his body. His big brown eyes and kiss-swollen lips register that you pulled away from him. His hands flex like a predator, ready to grab and pull you back to him, but restrained. His cock reaches out towards you unabashedly, shouting for your attention.

You can’t help but feel the smile you feel pulling at the corners of your mouth.

“Javi?”

“Yes?”

“Are you good at following orders?”

“Nope.”

You laugh, surprised by his quick honesty.

“Kind of oxymoronic,” you ponder.

“How?”

“Well, now I don’t know if you should earn my favor for answering honestly or if I should prepare a punishment if you’re going to misbehave.”

Something flickers across his face. He swallows it.

“Let me try again.” You move closer and cup his cheek in your palm like he did to you when you first sat on your bed for him. You look into his eyes and speak softly, “You gave me what I needed earlier. Made me feel so good I forgot everything else.” He waits for you to continue, but you feel his chest puff with pride. “I’d like to give you what you need now, Javi.” He swallows again. You wondered if he’d have a quip for that, but he looks so serious. Focused.

“But first, I need to know if you’ll be good for me, Javi. Can you do that? Can you be good for me?”

You feel him melt slightly, into your palm, nearly imperceptible the weight shifting into your hold.

More. The wildfire within you is lit. Blazing.

“Yes,” he nearly whispers. A flush of heat crawls up his chest.

“Can you follow my orders?”

“Yes, mi reina,” he said, consenting. That’s new.

“Mmm,” you purr at him.

“Does your pretty cock know that?”

He blinks with a thin veil of confusion at you. Uncertain.

“Yes,” he confirms.

“Look at me,” you order.

You sink to your knees in front of him. You ego does flips in your stomach. He looms over you, but you hold the reins. You pepper little kitten licks up the underside of his shaft, holding his eye contact and pausing. You rest your soft cheek against his thigh. He’s tense. Waiting to know the rules.

“Does he look greedy to you?” You study the precome weeping from the head of his cock inches from your face.

“No, mi reina.”

“No?”

You avoid his crying erection and impishly toy with his balls. Lazily, you kiss and lick and suckle at them for your own enjoyment. And when you stop, you feel the weight of his gaze, and his unanswered questions, the payback.

“So good for me watching and not touching,” you praise. “But, baby, look. He’s drooling like a rabid dog.”

You swipe up a trail of the glistening fluid with precision, doing nothing to relieve him. He swallows tightly, his body buzzing with tension like a livewire. He finds it easy to dole out pleasure, direct his energy towards someone else, drown in unraveling a woman’s desires. But your knowing look at him is unnerving. Rattling his bravado. You move with precision, intensely.

“Tell me, Javi,” you peer up at his face, “do you have a greedy cock?”

You’re going to ruin him.

“Yes,” he relents through an exhale. You’ve found it. Kept locked in a cage. Leashed in the dark. How did you find it? Did he lead you there?

You tilt your head at him.

“Yes, mi reina,” he adds.

“Say it for me, baby,” you push.

He takes a shallow breath. You grin at him like a Cheshire Cat.

“I have a greedy cock, mi reina, a greedy disobedient cock.” Unlocked, you pocket the key. You’ve unleashed something within him. His feels a swirl of sick pleasure twisting in his core.

“Yes,” you exclaim with a bright look that gives him a rush. He wants to keep making you look like that.

“You can touch.” You reward him. Too easy.

He reaches for you, and you swat at his hand.

“No, baby, you can touch your greedy cock, not me.”

A whiny little groan comes out of him, prickling with need.

“Slowly,” you add, watching as he obeys. His hand pumps slowly. You can’t resist. Holding out your tongue, you move close enough that his rosy head taps against your wet tongue just long enough to get a taste. You hum. Pleased with his obedience and the taste of him.

“Fuck,” he whispers, closing his eyes tightly.

“Your eyes stay on me, though,” you remind him gently, with leniency for his current state of executive functioning.

“Would you like to know a secret?” You tease as you stand up and lean into his ear.

“Yes,” he pants. Breathy and gravelly. Delight coats your expression, you

“I like your big greedy cock,” you lilt.

A soft whine is pulled from his throat. You frown dramatically at him. Causing him to pause his tense strokes and his brow to furrow. You love the intoxicating feeling of having him at your mercy.

“But you already knew that,” you admonish, shaking your head at him.

“Already knew that,” he repeats. You’re not sure he could tell you what he just agreed to know.

“Not a very good secret then, I guess,” you think aloud. You’re light and lucid, bouncing around him as he’s anchored in the quicksand of your spell.

“But do you know,” circling behind him, you press your soft tits into his back, and you continue to rasp towards his ear, “how wet my pussy is now? Just from the idea of taking your cock down my throat? She’s about to drip down my legs.”

“Fuck,” he pants again and stops moving. You feel like the sun. You urge him to turn towards you as you crawl onto your bed and lay in the center. His eyes flick all over you, wanting to see everything.

He’s fighting to figure out where to lock his eyes. It feels euphoric to see how openly aroused he is by you.

“Did you know that?” You repeat.

“No.”

“S’what I thought,” you reposition yourself, “you wanna see for yourself?”

“Yes,” he answers rapidly. Eager.

You show him. Parting your legs to display the evidence. So wet and tender for him.

You’re locked in a timeloop. When you see his eyes flood with lust, and his body tenses, your desire swells in your core, flooding your glossy folds. When he sees your glistening sex fluttering and pulsing, it nearly brings him to his knees. A horny sisyphian wet dream. Turning each other on. But, crucially, you know how to break free.

“You wanna taste?” You ask.

“Yes, please.” Good manners.

He starts to move towards you, and you press him back.

“No, baby, lay right here, and I’ll give you a taste.”

He’s obedient. Settling next to you. For a moment, he has the urge to drag you by the hips to sit on his face. To take you for himself, no games. But then he hears your sweet voice praising him and feels overcome with a dizzying sense of validation.

“So perfect, baby, look at you,” you continue showering him with adoration. You’re mesmerizing with your sweet scent, wet lips, and your glassy eyes. Too good for him. He doesn’t deserve your attention like this.

You see the crease between his brows as he starts to overthink. Enough. You bite sharply at his nipple, and he yelps and gapes at you. You straddle his waist and give him a stern look.

“Stay here with me, Javi,” you order, ”don’t disappear in there.” You tap a finger lightly against his temple. He nods.

You hover over him and slip his swollen head through your folds, easily coating his length. He shudders and groans. So openly vocal and responsive to you. That’s good. I like to hear you, baby. You use him as you please, like a toy circling your clit. But it’s everything about him that saturates you in pleasure.

“Feel so fucking good,” you praise before pulling back and shifting down between his legs.

You lick and suck your arousal off of him. Loud and messy. You climb towards his face. “Open,” you place your hand under his jaw, “taste,” you murmur before feeding your tongue into his mouth. Kissing hungrily he lets out desperate, deep groans. Relaxing into your movements he simply accepts what you give and lets you feel his uninhibited reactions.

He finds you vexing and tantalizing. Letting him touch and taste, but not directly. He’d have half a mind to argue with you—despite having tormented you just the same—but how you light up and laugh when you best him fills him with a more profound desire. He likes how you look when you’re in charge. He likes that he just has to keep up. He likes being all consumed by the present moment, so caught up in you he can’t think about anything else.

You break away, seemingly satisfied with his participation thus far. You’re ethereal and glowing above him.

You slide down and return to your retribution. Teasing by lightly drawing your fingers around his leaking cock as it lies against his lower abdomen. You revel in delight over his muscles tensing and flexing, and he huffs impatiently as you increase the intensity of your vengeance. You trace the same outline with your tongue; you use his moves from earlier, breathing warm and cool air over his length and watching it twitch.

You stare up at him as you run the flat of your tongue from his balls up to his tip. He looks wrecked, staring back at you, and you feel powerful, holding his attention.

He catches the flash of a smirk before you slip your mouth around his tip and nearly overwhelm him with the warm slip of your tongue and the pressure of your mouth wrapped around him.

“Fuck,” he rasps.

You don’t let up, swiftly taking him further down. You focus on breathing and working him into the back of your throat, then back to just the tip. Your saliva drips and coats him as your hands work in time with your bobbing head. It’s messy, and the noises are pornographic as you pour your enthusiasm onto him. He’s cursing and groaning while you continue on, and you can’t take the sight of him anymore. You pull off him and crawl up the bed on your hands and knees. You sit up and pick up one of his hands.

“Javi, I have a problem,”

“Shit, what?”

“When your cock is in my mouth, my pussy gets jealous. She’s too empty,” before he can respond, you drag his hand through your obscenely wet folds.

“Fuck,” he chokes out. It must be his favorite word.

“Mhmm,” you agree.

“Use me,” he says in a hoarse voice.

“I intend to,” you reply.

And you do. You ride him with an unrestrained vigor. You start bouncing up and down, tossing your head back to give him a little show. You drive him into a frenzy as you freely describe how good he makes you feel. And when he looks wholly fucked out, you taunt him for looking so pleased when his body is yours to use.

When he breaks, you feel his hands caress your body greedily. He squeezes at your hips, and he gapes with stars in his eyes at your tits perfectly filling his hands. He gropes at your ass and digs his fingers into your plush skin, pulling you down harder onto him with each bounce.

You consider how you might torture him further for touching without asking, but decide you just need to see him come undone. A single thought crosses your mind like a brilliant marquee on an empty boulevard.

He remains happy to obey as you instruct him to swap positions.

“You’re going to keep fucking me hard and deep while I come on your cock,” you order as you trail your hand down to your clit to your liking.

“Yes,” he agrees. “Come. Come on my cock.” He chants raggedly as you do. Your orgasm ripples across your body until the oversensitivity hits, and you press your hand into Javi’s chest. He pauses, hovering over you. You breathe as you come down and observe the exertion written across his features.

“Again,” you state, and he slides back into you. “I need it now, Javi,” you continue. “I need you to come. Fill me up. Just like you promised.”

You can’t get there with him again fast enough, but don’t need to. You just want to feel him deep inside you, releasing everything he’s got. And he’s more than willing to follow orders. He thrusts into you deeply until his hips jerk, and you can feel him pulsing inside of you as he comes.

“Please, take it.” You make out in between words that he smothers in your skin.

When he collapses on top of you, and your fingers rake through his hair, it’s as if he turns to liquid, and your soul absorbs him up.

You hum contentedly at him and push until he rolls off.

You order him to stay in bed before you’re off to clean up, bring him a towel, and of course, refill water glasses for both of you. As you walk into the kitchen, you see the flashing light on your answering machine. You didn’t notice it when you got home earlier, but it reminds you of the reality of the night. You know it’s a scathing message from your ex for walking away hours ago.

You feel a thread of annoyance, but it doesn’t escalate as you return to your bedroom.

Javi is where you left him and watches you with a funny look in his eyes as you carry on about your tasks until you return to his side. He likes seeing you move about your space, naked and unhurried. How insistint you are about taking care of him, it feels natural.

“What?” you grill him for staring.

“Nothing, nothing,” he assuages, raising his hands in defense.

You like how he looks in your bed with his dewy skin and mussed hair.

“Seems like you can be good at following orders,” you note.

“Depends on who’s doing the ordering, I guess” he shrugs, and you roll your eyes.

You offer him a cigarette and notice the time on the clock on your nightstand.

“It’s late,” you state, and he nods, taking a long drag.

“Stay,” you suggest, hoping it doesn’t sound needy.

“That an order, mi reina?”

You didn’t expect to hear that endearment outside of sex. It makes you float.

“Yes.”

“Good.”

He’s there. In the morning when you wake up. Taking up too much space in your bed, sprawled on his stomach. Trapping you under a heavy arm. Snoring hot air into your shoulder. His body is a furnace, the sheet balled up towards your feet, leaving his bare skin exposed to the morning light. His smooth back and the curve of his ass are candid and honest next to you. You figured he would’ve disappeared before you woke up. Like a cryptid. You thought you’d be searching for any trace that he was real. Fortunately, you are surrounded by evidence. He is real, and unguarded. And somehow weighing your whole body down with just one arm. You squirm trying to check the time and he stirs. You still.

“Morning,” he grumbles. Of course his morning voice is sexier than you could’ve imagined.

“Morning.”

He peels his arm from your skin, releasing you. Free to stretch you reveal the ache in your shoulders from sleeping in that position with a groan. The room smells like sweat and sex, with faint notes of your shampoo and his aftershave lingering on your pillows. You instantly miss his touch, despite the fact that you were overheating from his warmth. You wait for a clue. What happens next? He was supposed to be temporary. A high you chased. Just a distraction, help you avoid reality and your emotions. But you like having him spread out on your mattress in the morning. You’d like to hear more of his voice.

He flips onto his back and scoops you under his arm. Oh. Head on his chest. You hear the strong beat of his heart in his chest. You might as well try.

“You want–” “Can I–”

You both laugh, your head bumping into his chest. You urge him to go first. Reveal his hand.

“Can I take you to breakfast?” he asks, “maybe after another shower,” he adds considering whatever fluids are still pasted to his skin.

You couldn’t have resisted the smile spreading on your face if you’d been warned ahead of time. You know he feels it pressed against his skin.

“I was going to offer to make coffee, but that does sound better.”

“Good.”

“Plus, I could use a ride back to my car. It’s still outside the bar.”

It’s enough.

#liz incoherently rambles #i feel like i have more thoughts but i can't get them from brain to fingers #fic recs

300 notes · View notes

wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Rock N Roll People In A Disco World

Part 5- Nobody Dance On A Sad Disco

Intro: Paul doesn’t react well when your logical and practical side suggests you postpone your wedding…

Pairing: Paul Diskant x Reader

Warnings: Bad language, Smut (NSFW, 18+)

Word Count: 7k

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar the reader and any other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Rock ‘n’ Roll People Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Part 4

"I just don't understand why you think this is such a big frickin' deal, Paul." You said with exasperation. This argument had been carrying on for a good twenty minutes and so far, the only thing you'd accomplished was going in circles like a NASCAR driver.

“You don’t understand?” He scoffed, hands on his hips, “seriously? You don’t see why I’m slightly pissed off you wanna postpone our wedding?” "You can't continue to tell me that not pushing everything back a few months makes the most sense right now. In a month’s time we were supposed to be going away for our stags, and since..... since... you.... This is just what's better for..."

"Y/N, you do still want to get married don't you?" He interrupted. The strain in his voice was evident from both use and emotion.

"What kind of fucking question is that?" Now you were raging. The absolute audacity of him to even ask that. “Well it's non-rhetorical.” “Of course I still want to get married, you fucking moron!” You growled. "Then explain to me wh.." his voice cracked out and he breathed harshly through his nose. “That!” You gestured to him. “That is why!” "So it hurts a little, it's fine. For fucks sakes, I'm fine," his voice was entirely strained from arguing, his chords stretch to their limit. “No, you’re not.” You shook your head before you took a deep breath and pinched your nose. “Paul, I want our wedding to be a day we both look back on in years, decades even, to come and still love every minute of it...” "And we will!" “Right, okay, so your voice fails during our vows or your speech and you’re gonna be okay with that, huh?” You put your hands to your hips and waited for his reply. "No. I mean, I don't know." "My point exactly." You flung a hand up in his direction. “But it’s another eight weeks off, plenty of time, I might be fine.” He shrugged you off like he could make it happen. You knew it wasn't possible. It had only been a week since he'd said your sweet nickname as clear as day and while more and more words were stronger and phrases longer and more clear, you knew him better than that and you knew he wasn't ready no matter how much he wanted to pissingly argue with you that the two of you could move forward as if his shooting were nothing.

"Might. Key word." You sighed, clearly frustrated to the point of tears as they welled and stung your eyes. “Okay, fine.” His hands flew out to his side. “Have it your way, call the venue and cancel.” Gritting your teeth, you replied, “I don’t want to fucking cancel, Paul, I just want to move it!” “You know how long in advance we had to book that place, Y/N, it could be another year before they have an opening again.” “Then we wait another year!” You sighed dramatically, “in the grand scheme of things what does it matter? Today, tomorrow, twelve months, it all amounts to the same thing.” "It matters to me, Y/N." “Okay... fine. Let’s keep the date.” She shrugs. “Let’s just go for it and when you can’t speak and start to get frustrated we’ll write our vows on a pad of paper. Or, better still how about we learn sign language?” “You’re a sarcastic bitch.” “Yeah? And you’re a stubborn asshole.”

There was a long, angry pause between the two of you, harsh jabs and insults now floating painfully in the air. The two of you glared at one another. Both of you furrowing your brows and chewing on the insides of your mouths. Then, you sighed, again with a harsh tone. "God damned it, I hate this. I hate that we’re even having to have this conversation but we are. You were shot! You were moments from death and-“ "And now it's my fault?" He shrieked at a higher pitch than his voice typically was. “Oh for the love of- I didn’t say that!” You balled your hands into fists, your body visibly shaking. “So what are you saying?” “I’m saying that given everything that’s happened, pushing the second biggest day of my life back is the least of my fucking concerns, Paul.” Now you were tearfully arguing, your eyes red as was the tip of your nose. You blinked hard to attempt to show your strength, not wanting to back down. “Second biggest?” “Yes, the second. Because when you...I mean the...” you swallowed back the sob that threatened to scream from you, so you choked in it. “The first was when they told me you were going to live.”

At your words, Paul blinked a little, his mouth opening before it snapped shut again and you shook your head, continuing to talk. “I know you’re hurting and struggling with all of this and it isn’t what you want but it hasn’t been easy for me, either.” You sniffed, the tears now falling from your eyes. “I might not have been the one that took a bullet to the neck but I had to sit there and watch you, barely able to live but fight so hard to stay and all I could think about was the fact I might have to live without you and for that reason alone I’d have changed places with you in a fucking heartbeat.” Your face scrunched up with heavy emotion that you'd held onto for weeks.

“Y/N....” he tried to take a step toward you, but the damage was done for the night. You were done. “Seeing you there, in that bed, wondering if you were gonna make it or not, it was the worse time of my life. So, yeah, frankly I don’t care when we say I do, but it can't happen the way we want it to right now. You’re alive. That’s enough for me. And right now, well it should be for you too.”

You turned on your heel and quickly left the living room. You slammed the bedroom door shut and leaned your back against it whilst you allowed your exterior to fully collapse. You buried your face in your hands as you sobbed. This wasn't what you wanted, you'd expected a better reaction from him as you'd hoped he'd have seen things the same way as you, but you were wrong.

Now, all that was left was to go to bed. You had no fight left, no drive and right now, you didn't want to make up.

Eventually, you crawled into bed and moved no further. Sleep weighing on you heavily.

****

When he'd watched her go, Paul was floored. The things she'd said to him had gone unspoken since he'd been home from the hospital. He knew it had been hard on her, the both of them, what he'd gone through but he'd never imagined how she'd have felt given she was always such a strong woman and that was one of the things he adored most about her.

In frustration, he rubbed his hands over his face and decided he needed a walk. He walked around the neighborhood and back, taking in the cool air, realizing the fall weather was upon them. Shit, fall, the holidays were creeping up on them and he'd hadn't even given it a thought.

It didn't matter, what mattered was the incessant need to push their wedding back another year, was his best guess, and that killed him. It wrecked him and he found himself getting angry all over again. He wanted to marry her now, drag her down to the Justice of the Peace and take her as his bride the minute the courthouse opened. So now, why, all of a sudden did she not want to do even so much as that. Was it cold feet? Was it him? What had happened to him? Was she ashamed of him being unable to speak? She said it was nothing of the sort but it didn't stop the thoughts from weighing on him.

When he got back to their apartment, he found Y/N fast asleep in their bed, her back to his side of the bed. He hated that they were going to bed like this. He didn't believe in it, and if he was honest with himself, this was the first time this had ever happened in the span of their relationship. He was a firm believer in his parents golden rule, never go to bed angry and always kiss each other goodnight. Tonight he didn't get to do either.

With a sigh, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it in the direction of the hamper in the corner of the room but it didn’t quite make it. Instead, it dropped about a foot or so away, ironically right on the spot where he’d dropped to one knee that November evening almost three years ago…

She'd stood in the bathroom across the hall getting ready for their dinner date, listening to him chatter on in their bedroom about whatever it was as he dressed for the night. It was mid-week and they'd both managed to be off in time for a dinner date. Paul had wanted to make it fancy, something special.

"Do you know what today is?" He asked as he tied his tie in the mirror that stood in the corner of their room.

"Er, Wednesday," she replied, loud enough for her voice to carry.

"Of course, but try again," there was a hint of humor to his voice, sarcasm at best.

"Date night," she giggled.

"Nope." He breathed out a nervous, shaky breath. A full two strides and he stood in front of their chest of drawers, pulling open his sock drawer, reaching for the small box in the back.

"I give up."

He chuckled anxiously and closed the drawer. "Our anniversary." He took a knee, opening up the small box and waited.

"What? No, that's not for a few more months," she said with a smile as she walked across the hall and into the doorway of their room. Her hands were at her ear, adjusting her earring.

She gasped seeing him on one knee, his eyes smiling but his hands shaking as he held out the ring box. The lid open to show her what he was asking.

"Also true, but no. At exactly this minute, twenty-one months ago," he checked his watch, "I responded to a call for backup and my life changed forever. I met this woman who I just couldn't let go and that same woman took her time in giving me a chance. But I knew from the moment she kissed me that nothing would ever be the same. I fell in love that night, and I knew I wanted to make her mine, to keep on loving her forever. That is, if you'll have me forever?"

He watched as her eyes began to pool with tears as her own shaky hands covered her mouth as he spoke, a nervous silence crossing the room as she seemingly processed everything he'd said.

Tearfully, she replied, "yes, absolutely, yes!"

Tears welled up in his beautiful blue eyes as he stood, and pulled the ring from its box, slipping it on with jittery fingers over the knuckles of her ring finger before he crashed his lips into hers for a deep, happy kiss. "I love you so much, Sugar."

With their foreheads pressed sweetly together, they both cried a little.

"Tell me about it, Stud." She smiled.

They were late to dinner that night, both of them showing up glowing. But his surprises hadn't ended there, no. He'd had both their parents waiting on them for their eight o'clock dinner reservations to celebrate their new good fortune. It was a night he'd never forget, not ever.

Paul glanced down at the ring on his girl’s finger as she slept. Her left hand just close enough to her face so it wasn't obscured as she still lay with her back to him while her right lay tucked up under her pillow. The five raw cut diamonds were set in white gold, a center stone with two diamonds on each side. The center cut wasn't gargantuan and it didn't need to be. She knew how hard he'd worked to buy her the simple design with the small stones it held.

He'd wanted to upgrade it the month he'd solved his first case as a detective but she'd denied him, explaining that it didn't matter how big or fancy it was, the first one was special because of all the thought and effort he'd put forth to even consider her as his wife.

With a sigh he bowed his head and turned to go wash up, before he climbed into bed, Y/N’s back still facing him and he lay awake, looking at the ceiling until finally, an hour or so later, sleep finally took him.

**** The next morning your alarm went off for the first time in weeks. With a groan you hit the button to silence it and cracked open a sore, tear swollen eye, it was still dark outside. You rose, heading on auto-pilot to the bathroom and showered quickly before you wrapped in a robe and headed in to make yourself some breakfast. Just as you were finishing up, Paul walked into the kitchen and you stood up and left the room, not speaking a word to him, you had nothing else to say.

Unfortunately, your bad mood soured what should have been a happy return to work, a sign that your life was getting back to some form of normalcy. Instead, you were off your game, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

"Yo, Panny, you come to work or just fucking off?" Rodriguez hollered from behind you as an entire clip of used bullets lay at your feet, still hot from firing. You slammed your hand against the button that brought your target to you, all but four shots missing the target. "Fuck off, Ro." "Y/L/N!" Captain Rogers shouted from the doorway. "Outside, now." With a grumble, you rolled your eyes and holstered your weapon, but not before changing out the empty clip for a new one. The tone of his voice was not comforting. "You got your ass handed to you on the mats in hand to hand, you couldn't even shoot a decent hand at sniper poker, and now my ace shot, a skilled and decorated marksman, can't sink a suspect in range." Your tongue poked the inside of your cheek as you drew a deep breath. “Sorry Cap, must be a little rusty.” He sighed and shook his head as it dropped disappointingly to his chest. "You're not ready, go home Y/N." "Steve...." "I pushed you too far. Go home, chill the fuck out, take the weekend." You groaned, “I don’t wanna go home.” The petulance evident both in your tone and body language as you folded your arms across your chest. “I'm fine. It's just a rough start." "Go the fuck home, Y/N. Or I'll send the Mrs. after you." You couldn't stand his wife and given your relationship with Steve, it was a credible threat. Karen Rogers was as green as Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West. "I'd call you an asshole but you're my sup so...." "Now, Y/N." “Fine.” You shrugged. “I’ll go back home. Wonderful.” "I didn't miss the sarcasm," Steve called out to your back.

You flipped him the bird as you kept walking.

**** Paul slammed the door to his mom and dad’s house, storming into the kitchen. It had been a shitty morning, with Y/N not speaking to him and then that damned fucking speech and physical therapy he had to endure twice a damned week.

“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Big Jim looked at him, frowning a little. Paul ignored him and headed straight to the fridge, pulling out a soda.

“Paul, honey, what’s got into you?” Dot asked gently and he sighed, turning to face both his parents who were sat at the bar top, the remnants of a brunch on their plates in front of them. “Y/n wants to postpone the wedding.”

“Ah.” His dad leaned back in his chair. “And let me guess, you don’t?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Language.” His mother chastised and Paul rolled his eyes, as he paced slightly across the kitchen.

“And, you clearly discussed this in your usual, calm and rational manner?” His dad arched an eyebrow. Paul paused for a moment to eye his dad, before he resumed his movements.

With a sigh his mom spoke. “Paul, sit down for a second, quit pacing my kitchen floor.”

“I don’t want to sit down.” He shot back, petulantly.

“Paul Christopher Diskant, you sit your grown butt down, now.” His mother’s tone was sharp and with a groan he pulled a seat out from the breakfast bar, opposite his parents, and flopped down.

“Now, out with it, from the beginning.” His mother instructed and Paul let out another growl of frustration.

“I just told you. She wants to postpone the wedding. I don’t. There’s nothing else to tell you.”

“Don’t sass me!”

“I’m not sassing you, you’re just not fucking listening.”

“Hey, cut the shit. Don't talk to your mother like that.” Big Jim pointed at him, his voice stern. “You might be a grown man but I'll still kick your ass into next week, you little shit.”

Paul took a deep breath, his head hanging slightly. “Sorry Mom. It's been a really crappy couple of days.” At that he snorted. “Crappy couple of weeks one way or another.”

“Oh, Paul. I know it's not been easy.” Dot gave him a gentle smile. “But you're here with us and that's really all we care about.”

“I just feel like Y/N is getting cold feet. And that really sucks.”

“Don't be a dick.” Dot scoffed at his admission of feelings. “That girl has stood by you while you knocked on death's door.” “Mom, did you just call me a dick?” Paul looked at her, his brow raised and she nodded.

“Yes.”

“She’s not wrong.” His dad interjected.

“What is this gang up on Paul day?”

“You’re acting like a spoiled child who just had his best toy taken away.” Big Jim looked at him. “Son, she wants to postpone, not cancel!”

“Well it didn't feel that way last night or this morning. She stormed out for her first day back at work all pissed off I wasn't agreeing with her.”

“And I refer back to my previous observation. Maybe you should have attempted to discuss the issue in a calm and rational manner as opposed to shouting and getting all pissy.” Big Jim observed.

"I’m not pissy, I’m just... look, we've waited twice as long as we wanted to because she loved the venue so much, hell, I loved the venue. That place means a lot to us and it's so perfect. Everything has been perfect until now." He sighed, his voice again weak.

"What was her reasoning?" Dot pressed.

"Me." He said sadly, frustration clearly featured on his face.

"Paul, I highly doubt it's just you."

"She doesn't think I'm ready. Healthy enough. Healed enough. There's till eight weeks, Mom. Eight weeks, I can be so much better by then."

Dot reached across the granite for his hand. He took it, and held tight, like a boy needing his mother.

"My sweet, love sick boy," she softly smirked at him and he rolled his eyes .”Y/N is only thinking about you. She knows how frustrated you get when you struggle to talk and how would you feel if that happened during the vows or speeches? Look, Sweetheart, you’ve waited years for this, what’s another couple of months?”

“Mom, it won’t be a couple of months, there’s no way that place won’t be booked up for at least another year. I just... Is it so bad that I want to marry her right now as we planned?" His voice breaking and cracking. Too much talking.

“No, Son, it's not.” Jim cut in. “But listen to yourself, your struggling to talk now after this conversation. Y/N just wants to have the wedding you both have dreamed of, and spent so much time planning. Don't take that from her or yourself. You'll look back and think, I should have waited, when I was at full strength.”

Diskant looked at his father before he sighed and his shoulders sagged a little. “Seems like I’m out voted.”

"Not out voted, just...." Big Jim couldn't come up with a reasonable example.

But Dot interrupted, "We just think you need to think about this a little more and be open to what's going on."

"Open to what? The fact I’m now not gonna get married for another year coz some asshole shot me in the neck?"

"Paul..."

He shrugged, "Whatever. Guess, I have some rearranging to do."

Automatically, he looked down at his phone and saw that Tom Ludlow was calling. If there were any better time to get off this hamster wheel of an argument it were now. "I gotta take this."

He stepped outside and took his call. An hour later, he was meeting Ludlow at their apartment, fresh bottles of beer in the fridge and two on the coffee table between them.

Ludlow filled him in on exactly what happened after he'd left the scene and Paul behind. He talked about how Biggs was using Ludlow to get to Wander, how Tom had killed his entire unit out of self-defence and in turn discovered all the corrupt shit Captain Wander had on Tom, the unit, multiple officers, judges, councilmen and other local politicians and prominent community leaders. He told Diskant about the stolen money, hidden in the walls of Wander's home and he explained how important Biggs seemed to think Tom was for IA and the department.

It didn't surprise Diskant in the slightest that Ludlow's department was dirty. In fact, he'd half expected it and the realization hit moments before he was shot. The rest of Tom's story however was just insane, insane enough that he joked a movie could be made about it.

That said, Paul trusted Ludlow from the start. And he’d clearly been right about the guy, even if helping him had resulted in him being moments from death. Painful memories aside, it was nice to see him too. They’d been through a lot, but Paul wasn’t dumb enough to figure this was a purely social call. He knew Ludlow felt guilty about what had gone down and that was partly the reason for his visit. But it was misplaced guilt, one Disco was happy to absolve him of.

"Listen, Paul, with what happened, I..."

"Hey, it's okay. Shit happens. I'm alive. I knew what I was getting into, the risks involved. You gave me an out and I didn't take it." His voice rasped a little.

"Felt like I took a kid to a gun fight." Tom sighed, tossed back some of his beer and shook his head with a slight shrug. "But you're one helluva kid. A fucking fighter. You're a good cop, even better detective and I'm sorry I pushed you so far."

“No hard feelings, man.” Disco took a slug of his beer and shook his head as Ludlow made to speak. “I mean it. I knew what I was signing up for the second the call came in. Our jobs are shady as fuck and twice as dangerous.”

“You can say that again.” Ludlow sighed. “Still, what happened was rough, I’m glad you’re through it.”

Disco gave him a smile as they clinked bottles and Ludlow’s eyes scanned the small living room, stopping on the photo on the small shelf above the television. Paul glanced at it, looking at his and Y/N’s smiling faces as they stood in his parent’s back yard, both dressed in casual jeans and t-shirts, taken a few months before he’d been shot. A time when everything had been simpler and his life on track.

“How's the Missus?” Ludlow asked and Paul took a deep breath.

"She's, uh, she's good,” he answered, deciding not to burden Ludlow with details of their argument, “first day back today, getting her ass kicked I'm sure. Rogers told her it was training day."

"That's rough. Rogers is a hard ass.” Ludlow mused before his eyes flicked down to the beer bottle in his hand. “She er, she due back any time soon?"

Paul shrugged, “I wouldn’t expect so. Why you ask?”

“Because I don’t intend to be here when she returns.” Ludlow replied. “She wasn’t very happy to see me last time.”

At that, Paul frowned. “Last time?”

“Did no one tell you I came by the hospital?”

“Well, yeah they mentioned it but-“

“Well your girl packs a mean right hook.” Ludlow ran a hand over his jaw, almost as if he was recalling the punch he was talking about.

“Wait, what? She hit you?” Paul leaned forward, deeply concerned and slightly proud.

Tom nodded, "then said that if you died, I was next."

“Dammed, she’s vicious.” Paul couldn’t help the smirk which flicked onto his face at the thought of his girl landing one on the man sat next on the small armchair opposite him.

But the grin soon faded as it sunk in just how downright upset and distraught she must have been to do that. For all his jokes about her being a hard ass, she wasn’t one to throw punches around for no reason, in fact, given her job, she often did everything she could to avoid altercations in any shape, stating she saw enough of it at work without seeing it in her personal life too.

"Yeah, she is and frightening. But she's got good intentions. I don't fault her. I'd have popped me one too." Ludlow shrugged.

Paul took a deep breath as he pondered what Ludlow had said. His girl had that stupid nickname “Panny” for a reason, nothing much phased her. So for her to be rattled enough to sock Ludlow in the face just goes to show exactly how distraught she had been.

None of that was news to Paul, he knew all of this, and it had been pointed out to him again earlier that day by his parents. And then, in a moment of clarity, he realised that he might be being slightly unreasonable. Whilst logically, a compromise would be to perhaps cancel their current venue and forgo the huge day they had planned and book something smaller and less flashy for a few months down the line, Paul understood that she wanted this to be the best day it could possibly be for both of them. They had fallen in love with the Shutters on the Beach from the start, and had booked it with enough time to save for their dream day, even though they could have done something smaller and been married by now.

But that was a decision they had taken together, and hadn’t taken lightly, understanding that it would mean a long wait until they said “I do”, but that wait would be worth it. So, in the grand scheme of things, whilst he might not completely agree, she was right. Another year or however long made fuck all difference, even if he didn’t necessarily want to postpone, he understood.

And damned, now he felt like a right jerk.

*****

You pulled up to the curb to your duplex and frowned as an unfamiliar black car was parked outside, one you couldn’t recall seeing before. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes, resting your head back against the seat as you gave yourself a moment, trying to rid yourself of the frustration of the day.

Rogers was right, you weren't ready to come back. Not yet. Or at least not after the argument you’d had. It frustrated you entirely that this one small thing had spiralled so much as to affect your job. Never, since you'd joined the force, not even since you'd been on S.W.A.T., had you been sent home for misconduct of your behavior. That angered and frustrated you more. And right now, that frustration was leveled firmly at Paul.

You knew he was angry and upset, but so were you. You were thinking logically, wanting your wedding day to be as perfect as it could be for you both, but Paul was blinded by emotion. You understood. Of course you did, it wasn’t like you wanted to postpone, hell you wanted nothing more than to become his wife but it wasn’t worth rushing if it meant that when the time came you could both make those declarations to one another without either of you worrying his voice would give out.

And it irritated you that he couldn’t see that.

Growling out loud and slamming your palms against the wheel, you shook your head. That was when you saw him, you saw the one person you unadmittedly blamed for your mood, your position and your current situation.

"What the... That mother fu..." you stopped yourself, downright pissed at seeing Tom Ludlow leaving your residence.

You waited until Ludlow pulled away before exiting your car, slinging your 'go bag' over your shoulder from the back seat. You didn't miss your fiancé tossing what appeared to be bottles into the recycling bin at the side of the duplex.

He saw you and smiled, but you did nothing to acknowledge his gesture, allowing the screen door to slam behind you.

“Babe?” Paul’s voice called after you as he followed you in. “Sugar, look, I’m sorry-“

“What the fuck was he doing here?” You dropped your bag to the floor of the small hallway and wheeled round to face him.

"What?"

“Don’t play dumb with me! Ludlow, why was he here?” Paul sighed, "He called me while I was at my parents, wanted to come by. We talked for a bit, had a couple of beers and clearly you saw him just leave." There was a pause between you. "Which by the way I heard all about how you decked him in the hospital lobby." "The fucker deserved it. He's lucky you pulled through or I would have killed him. It would have been a clean shot too, non-traceable round. I'm not a marksman for nothing." Paul rolled his eyes, “you’re being ridiculous, this-“ he gestured to his scar, “- was not his fault.” "It was and you know it was. This is all because he didn't think you could do your job on your own." “Bullshit Y/N!” Paul shot back. "He gave me an out and I said no. He told me to go home, but I told him I knew what I was doing." You could see him flush with anger and, at his surprising admission, you were shaking in it. "He what?" "You heard me." "You fucking asshole. You stupid, stupid son of a..." you couldn't bring yourself to talk about Dot like that so you carried on, your anger raging as you railed into him. “How dare you throw that at me? You had every fucking chance to come home and let him take the fuck up on his own and you still went. You still stepped right into the fucking madness when, Tom fucking Ludlow of all the people in the entire fucking department, gave you a chance to come back to me?"

“Stop it Y/N! You know as well as I do, you don't take up the badge and go 'you know what, I might die today, imma sit this one out'!”

He had you there, he wasn't wrong. You literally growled at him, your chest rumbling. Paul sighed, and swallowed, looking down at the floor before he raised his head and licked his lips as he glanced over your shoulder for a moment before meeting your eyes.

“Listen, about the wedding-“

You groaned, “I can’t do this now.”

“Just listen to me, will you?”

“Why? So you can tell me again how you don’t want to change our wedding date? Because of your pride and..."

At that something flashed in his eyes and he took a sharp inhale through his nose.

"My pride?” His voice his voice strained harshly, "Okay, how about we discuss why you do want to change the date because you’re embarrassed. You're embarrassed of me."

His comment floored you momentarily and you frowned. “Is that what you really think? That I’m ashamed of you?”

"Feels like it."

"Pull your God damn head outta your ass, Paul."

“The only person round here with anything up their ass is you, a big fucking stick about Tom Ludlow paying me a visit.” He croaked back. “What, you want me to be sat at home, helpless, waiting for you to come back? Does that fit with the narrative of why you wanna call the wedding off? Poor Paul, he can’t manage much at the moment so-“

“Fuck you!” You screamed back. “Fucking fuck you!”

Your chest heaved, your nostrils flared. You. Were. Done. You moved to leave, but as you made towards the door, his arm shot out and his hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere you’re not!” You spat, wrenching your arm from his grasp.

He grabbed you again, this time by the waist and pinned you to the near-by wall. It wasn't painful or abusive, it was just enough roughness to keep your attention.

“Get off me.” You hissed, attempting once more to rid yourself from his grip.

“Fucking calm down!” He instructed, his hands pinned yours to the wall, his chest lifting away from your body. It reminded you of how he'd treat a suspect, enough force to maintain control but not to hurt.

His words were said through clenched teeth, his own hot breath from his nose flicking your hair a touch, he was so close. His blue eyes, full of fire, blazed into yours as the two of you stood still, chests heaving from the exertion of the shouting and anger.

He was the one to break first as he slammed his lips into yours. It stole your breath as he kept you pinned against the wall.

Eventually he pulled back and you glared at him. “Prick.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He hissed again, his voice breaking before his lips crashed back to yours. His hips ground into yours, keeping you pinned to the wall and it didn’t escape your notice that he was hard. The fucker was turned on.

But, in all honesty, no matter how pathetic it was, his display of dominance had you fluttering slightly but you were damned if you we’re going to show him that.

You felt him release your arms as his hands quickly moved to your work cargos. Your utility belt and flies were no match for his swift movements and you felt the release of their hold on you as the material flew open.

His chest and kiss kept you pinned to the wall as he undid the zipper to his denim and you quickly felt the head of his cock slip between your folds. “Seriously?” You whispered, making no attempt to stop him. “You think a fuck is gonna sort this out?”

He rutted up into you, stuffing himself right inside and jolting your body up the textured paint. The burn and stretch took your breath away, you weren’t as prepared as usual but it wasn’t uncomfortable.

"I said shut up." He growled as your arms swooped around his neck, trying to find purchase to grab and your fingers found the collar of his shirt. You gave a tug, no doubt stretching the collar but you didn't care. He thrust upward and used his hips to keep you in place as he leaned back enough to slip his shirt off, his built chest and less defined abs now on display, that necklace bouncing off his chest from the speed of his disrobing.

His eyes still blazed as you caught them in your own gaze. He looked down right feral, his skin flushed with anger. His hands flew to the hem of your navy uniform tee and in a wrench he had that over your head, his lips dropping to your collar bone and he nipped along the line, stinging bites that would no doubt leave their marks.

“Not so fucking mouthy now, are you Sugar?”

Your only reply was the 'fuck' that escaped your lips at a whimper as he spoke. The rasp of his injury mixed with the deep tone lust did to him had you fluttering in all the right places.

You weren't sure how he'd done it but your boots were unlaced and falling to the floor at his feet with a thud. You barely registered the way his fingers slipped under the hem at the leg of your cargos and slipped your socks away. He was rutting into you with such hard measure, his tongue aggressively and passionately dancing with your own. You felt a rawness against your back from the wall. He stopped kissing and fucking you long enough to tear down your pants and panties the rest of the way, leaving you in your sports bra, your nipples rock hard poking into the material. All whilst his body still pressed hard against you.

With a yelp, he lifted you and carried you the few short steps to the couch, dropping you on your ass and turning you to your knees. You caught just a glimpse of how he looked, chest naked and heaving, tattoos glistening with sweat, that look still raging in his eyes. You wagered you looked about the same because he looked how you felt. His cock glistened with your slick as he slipped right behind you, a knee on the cushion of the couch, the other boot planted into the carpet.

Without a word his hands grabbed your hips, unceremoniously repositioning you before he slammed straight back inside, jolting you forward a little as you cried out, your hands curling round the arm of the sofa, elbows locking to prevent you from falling face first into the cushions.

The angle change along your swollen walls filled you with a deep, rough pleasure and you groaned loudly as his hips rotated in a dirty grind as he bottomed out on one of his thrusts.

"Oh my... fuck..." you stuttered and behind you Paul gave a moan of his own.

“That all you got to say?” He panted, his voice cracking slightly, punctuated by his pants.

“Asshole.” You managed to whisper and with that, Paul grabbed that ponytail you sported and held tight, arching you head back towards him.

“Jesus Christ you just can’t stop can you?” His lips crashed to yours in a sloppy, filthy, tongue filled kiss before splaying his chest over your back, his hot breath against your ear as he made the most pleasurable grunts and moans, his hips pounding back and forth in a relentless rhythm.

He was close, you could feel it in the subtle rhythm change of his hips, his hand on your hip squeezing your skin, bruising it no doubt later.

"Do. It." You punctuated.

“Oh, baby girl , you should know by now,” he growled as his right hand moved from your hip, slipping around your belly and down between your legs, “not. before. you.” In no time at all his fingers had teased you to relief, your back arched as you cried out loudly, the heat and surge of your orgasm washing over you, the world spinning as you crashed over the edge.

He growled your name as he came, filling you but not stopping his relentless thrusts as if he couldn't help the automated way his body had taken over, taken you. You felt how warm your insides were at his spend, no doubt absorbing most of it. You fell forward onto the couch, his body lightly crushing you into the cushions.

As the two of you worked at recovering, his lips brushed over your skin in super soft kisses; along your shoulder, the back of your neck.

The only sound in the room were the two of you breathing heavily, a stark contrast to the screaming match you shared for the last two days. Then you felt his weight shift and a sweet kiss to the back of your neck.

"About the wedding...."

You groaned, after everything you just threw at each other and the most ridiculously, satisfying angry sex you had ever had, he wanted to start back up again. "Please don't. I don't want to argue."

He hushed you and your walls squeezed against him. He let out a low chuckle mixed with a moan. "I’m not." He kissed your shoulder. "Before you came in before like a buck shot grizzly bear, I was gonna say you were right."

You stilled and turned your head to look at Him. “I’m sorry, say that again?” You teased

He smiled and nipped at your neck, "don't be a dick."

He pulled out of you and sat down on the sofa. Your body was jello but you couldn't miss the chance to seize an opportunity to slip him back inside you and simply sit on his lap. He gave a grunt as you kissed him, soft at first, then lolled your tongue over his lips. "I'm sorry too."

“I never said I was sorry.” He playfully chuckled and this time you nipped at him, teeth grazing his jaw.

“Don’t be a dick.”

His hands moved to your hips and then up your back, pulling you against his tacky damp chest.

“Disco?”

“Sugar?”

“You don’t really think I’m ashamed of you, do you?”

"It'd crossed my mind."

"Look at me," you sat up and held his jaw in your palms. "Never, in my entire life will I ever be ashamed of you. You are the absolute strongest, bravest person I know."

"Okay."

You kissed those sweet little moles on his right cheek by his nose and just below his bottom lashes. "I love you like no other, Paul Diskant."

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and that gorgeous soft smile spread across his lips. Then you wrapped your arms around his neck and placed a kiss where you knew he'd feel and understand what you meant, what you felt. It was covered by a still healing scar, but he felt everything.

“I only want us to have the day we want, the day we deserve.” You whispered, sniffing a little as you blinked back tears.

"I'll call Shutters tomorrow. See what they can do." He whispered into your hair as he kissed your head.

“Thank you.” You lay your head on back his shoulder, his arms holding you close.

***** Part 6.1

#rock n roll people in a disco world #paul diskant #paul diskant x reader #paul diskant x you #reader insert #paul diskant fan fiction #street kings #chris evans #chris evans characters

217 notes · View notes

du0tine · 4 years ago

Text

༄𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 𝐈𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐀༄

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 5.3K 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒 | 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐖!

prominent use of bad language. mentions of people hooking up and using drugs but no explicit description, there is no smut in this prologue but are some light suggestive scenes. description of a drug overdose, drug intoxication and hallucinations. mentions of candy flipping: the use of MDMA and LSD combined. main character death and resurrection. graphic imagery. light mentioning of religious anecdotes.

viewer discretion is advised.

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄:

THIS IS THE FIRST PART TO THE PROLOGUE!

at the end of the second prologue you may choose a route that will lead you to one of the four stories with either:

na jaemin, jung jaehyun, wong yukhei or xiao dejun.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

@stayinzencity @prettyjaems @hunjins @neonun-au @bumblebeenct @neojaems + there may have been more people but i kinda forgot to write them down sorry! lmk if you would like to be added. just let me know which member’s route, you can choose as many as you’d like.

It was all too confined.

Sweaty bodies aggressively shoving against each other in the mosh pit. People falling from side to side, crushing each other as they flailed their bodies around. The smell of DMT lingered in the air clouding your thoughts ever so slightly, tinging your mind with a light haziness. As the vibrant, disco lights blinded you, making your sight kaleidoscopic. You were seeing double and it didn’t help since it served as the only source of light in this underground club. You were pretty sure that had you not been so painfully sober and not shit faced drunk you would’ve been pressed against the club’s dirty floor next to some girls abandoned, dirty thong with people jumping on top of you, crushing your body.

It was hopeless. You’d lost sight of your friends from the moment you got into this dreaded hole of sweaty bodies, quite literally being engulfed by the ocean of people. Your body felt like a pulp, compressed and sweaty, falling apart at the seams. Even your feet were terribly blistered since your toes began to sink further down, your heels pressing uncomfortably against the leather material. Scanning the crowd, you desperately look for an exit to find the bathroom. Of course, you weren’t expecting it to be any better. There would most likely be people hooking up or doing drugs in the empty stalls but you’d at least expect less people inside and more space to just collect yourself and find your friends since there was no way you could just leave. The lineup was almost an hour long and the bouncer wasn’t going to let you in twice.

Finally you spot the broken LED sign that held the exit sign. It’s hues sparking above the crowd, omitting an array of bright colours that mostly alternated between red and blue. Overjoyed, you roughly shove people out of your way, getting shoved back a few times in return but overall, the heavy traffic pushed you closer to the exit and finally you were met with a dimly lit, long corridor. It was rather empty except for the few clusters of people either nearly fucking on the spot or passed out on the floor.

Carefully, navigating your way through the hallway you almost slip on some dark yellow vomit. Your heels squelching against the ground as you mentally cringe feeling disgusted. Nearly yelling out loud at the person who’d thrown up but much to your dismay they were long gone with their face against the floor, eyes shut tight. Roughly dragging the scuff of your shoe against the floor you wipe the putrid substance off before continuing your march through the hallway of hell.

The further you went, the darker it got and you were starting to think you’d come the wrong way. There was no bathroom. Hell, there wasn’t even an exit; it was just a dingy, dark hallway with absolutely no end. As you continued downwards you start to feel uneasy, almost as if there was someone watching you. With each and every step away from the dance floor you hear the music become more and more faint, the sound of the bass thumping lightly along with the sound of the crowd almost disappearing. Soon enough it became painfully silent, the only noise that bounced against the walls of the corridor were your own and they omitted from the clapping of your heels that clacked against the cold floor.

One, two, three, four steps and you start to hear double. Stopping in place, you’re met with a silence. It’s just you and this hallway you think to yourself before taking a few more steps ahead and then hearing it again. It was definitely the sound of someone’s shoes, ones besides yours. Perhaps, someone was following you? You weren’t sure. In fact, you were just too scared to turn your head around and take a look back mostly because something deep inside you warned you not to look back. Maybe there was something about how anxious this place made you feel.

As a result, it made your head spin, the vertigo making you feel nauseous as you struggled to even keep marching forwards through this endless abyss of a walkway.

Nonetheless, you push yourself to keep moving ahead. Forcing yourself to think that the further you went, the faster the bathroom would appear. A doorway that would you lead into a disgusting, nasty as hell bathroom filled with people from the club. This illusion you fed yourself forced you into a sense of false comfort as you tried your best to fight the urge to look back and keep moving.

Your mission was to reach the bathroom because you knew that you’d be safe then. Despite not even knowing what followed you, you kept your vision dead straight ahead becoming so focused you failed to realize how the walls around you twisted and contorted. The chipped paint started to come alive developing a pulse, beating as if it was alive like flesh inside the body of a human. Something that never saw the light of life until given the opportunity to do so and right now it was tearing itself apart stripping itself, revealing the grimy, almost ghastly white woodwork behind it as its paint wilted at your feet. Hypnotized you kept moving forward as the sound of those dreaded footsteps got closer and closer.

Clack, clack, clack it rang through your ears. Echoing through your eardrums and spiralling through your mind. The paranoia ate away at your sanity, it replaced all senses of feeling and thinking with fear and ignorance. You ignored how your mind screamed at you to turn back and stop going forward in fear of what lay ahead. Instead you listened to how your body forced you to place one foot right in front of the other and march straight into your doom.

Finally, you see an exit. A doorway that stands there perfectly still, illuminated around its perimeter with a bright mix of red and blue. You feel yourself fall at ease as you pick up your pace practically racing for the door as you hold a hand out eager to feel the cold, brass doorknob around your sweaty palms. The distance between you and the door close with each step that you take but so does the sound of those dreaded feet behind you. With merely a few inches between you and the door, you feel a gush of hot wind against your neck. Its someones breath.

It feels like your whole body falls into a frenzy, a complete panicking mess. As you finally grip onto the door knob giving it a rapid turn, twisting it with everything you had within you and yet, nothing. It doesn’t budge. Rather simply it stands there silently mocking you as you tug at the door. Your movements only becoming more violent when you feel someones hand atop your shoulder. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, decorating it like grains of sand, the granules sitting coldly atop your body. It surges through your frame and shoots up your spine as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up in shock.

“Going somewhere?” Questions the voice as you freeze in place. Your objective of getting the hell out momentarily pausing as you feel eerily intrigued by the voice. Who could it be? The voice was almost incoherent and yet, it held a tone that would perhaps come from a man. The vibrations from its voice made the shivers that stood at the top of your spine come tumbling back down onto your tall bone as you shudder in response. Just who exactly was this? You had to find out. After all, there was no going back now.

Mustering the very little courage that you had within the pits of your stomach, you tense up. Your muscles restricting themselves making your movements very slow as you take your time turning around. Your eyes glued to the ground, staring at the floor and only just realizing how it jiggled underneath you, almost as if you were standing on top of jello. It’s checkered black and white tiles moving around as you pivot, the toes of your feet sinking in ever so slightly.

You know you’re facing the figure when you see a pair of sleek, perfectly polished mens dress shoes in front of you. The gloss that radiants from the black shoes almost blind you as you can’t help but momentarily look away staring at your own feet that were beginning to sink deeper into the translucent, gelatine floor. Your heels doing nothing more but piercing into the meaty layer beneath you.

“My gosh, you’re so fucking high,” Snickers the voice as you snap your head upwards. Contorting your eyebrows in confusion as you quickly retort their observation, “I am not!”

As the words abruptly leave your mouth you can’t help but feel like you’ve had the wind knocked out of you. In front of you stands a masked man, dressed in a black suit that you could just tell was fabricated with the finest materials and by a crafted tailor no less. The tufts of his hair rotate between the colours of silver, an auburn brown, black and yellow blonde. The mask that adorns his face is plain white, with no slits for eyes nor a mouth leaving you astonished as to how exactly could this masked figure see but you don’t speak the thoughts of your mind. Almost as if you knew that questioning him would lead nowhere.

Instead you continue to gawk at him with your eyes wide, pupils extremely dilated. Your fruity lips drifted apart as you momentarily forget to breath. Slowly you watch as he brings a hand forward to rest on your cheek. Not even realizing how hot and flustered you were until you feel his cold hand caress your skin. He’s gentle as he continues to observe you. Making you feel like a delicate flower in the grasps of a strong being, one wrong move and you could be crushed.

“I’m not high,” Are the words that flutter past your lips once more as you stare at him, your thoughts are in a daze. You can’t even think straight as he lets out a laugh.

“Sure you aren’t. In fact you totally didn’t spend the night candy flipping for nothing, you’ve called upon me and that’s…pretty sweet. The taste of death, reward of the afterlife,” He replies, his fingers leaving your soft cheek and moving towards the locks of your hair as he runs his fingers through them, combing it gently ridding it of its knots.

“Death? I’m sorry what?” You question as you snap out of your thoughts pushing his hand away from yourself as you look around you. Nothing looked normal, the hallway seemed to replicate one from the inside of a twisted funhouse, except this was all but fun. As the realization of being somewhere that you don’t belong in hits you, you begin to panic. The fear settling in at the pit of your stomach, clouding your thoughts as your surroundings begin to darken. Everything seems to take a turn for worse as the floor beneath you continues to cave in faster and faster. Soon you find yourself knee deep staring in horror at the man in front of you, desperately you reach out your hand begging him to pull you up, to save you.

“You’re mistaken! I’m not dead, I was just fine. Perfectly sober in fact!” You shriek out absolutely horrified as you grip onto the jacket of his suit. You’re now thigh deep and sinking in faster. Calmly he holds your hand with his before bringing his other hand and placing it atop your head once more.

“I’m afraid you are dead. Having overdosed in the reckless amount of MDMA and LSD you consumed, eager to reach that ecstasy. That feeling of being in a euphoric state of mind, the bliss coursing through your veins only to be crushed by the mindless bodies of those whom you once danced with, then dragged out by your very own friends. Only to be left alone in the corridor soaked in your vomit.”

Deadpanned, the realization hits you hard. You really were dead and in fact, you’d walked past your very own dead body twice. Astonished and feeling completely drained you look up at the man with sorrowful eyes. This time you don’t speak as you stare at him with oceans in your gaze, the tears seeping from the ducts of your lifeless eyes as they fall down your now stone cold cheeks. You’re now waist deep into the ground as you continue to sink further down with nothing left to say.

“You’ll have a second shot, if you make things right,” He says before using his body weight and strength to push your body down into the ground with his hand. Eyes widening in shock you scream in horror as he submerges you completely, engulfing your voice in the floor beneath as everything swallows you alive and falls black.

It feels like you’re floating, your body is essentially weightless as you drift around in the dark mindlessly. You simply exist with no burdens atop your shoulders, no responsibilities and no sins. Your mind is a clean slate and it feels like you’re swimming around, sauntering inside a dark womb. Everything that surrounds you is inexplicable and unknown but it makes itself present. It’s a cold comfort. Perhaps, this is what it’s like to be dead. No hell, no heaven, simply a dark void. A looming and mysterious abyss where you’re overcome by nothing more except peace and eternal silence.

The silence is short as you suddenly feel a large pressure against your body. An unknown force dawning its mass, crushing you as your senses abruptly flutter awake. You begin to feel more confined, your surroundings no longer providing comfort but working against you. Slowly the unknown force begins to coat your body, covering every nook and cranny with its substance. Rubbing against your skin, grinding with pressure. Its the feeling of small, tiny granules but perhaps millions of them. Though this time it isn’t exactly goosebumps, no longer a natural phenomenon that occurs as a reaction in the human body. Instead, it seems to be sand as it works its way around your figure, engulfing you. Making you feel as if you’re caught inside an hourglass with no way to go but down. The sensation is suffocating as you catch particles of the sand inside your mouth, drying up your taste buds. Its objective is to swallow you whole and consume your existence with itself.

There is no longer any zen. The pulsations that once lingered through mind, body and soul is now gone and replaced with another kind of awakening. One that is urgent, one that screams for you to get out. In desperation you begin to panic, flailing your arms around. Your movements are drastically slower than you expect with the heavy sand slowing your momentum. With one arm in front of the other you swim your way through the sand, clawing your way out of the dark, pushing away from the suction that holds you down. You don’t stop until you feel the light breeze of what seems to be air brushing past your fingertips.

You’ve partially reached the surface. The adrenaline is now coursing through your veins, pumping through your heart with such speed. It feels like your heart is ready to burst through your ribcage at any given moment. But you don’t stop fighting against the quicksand until you’re met with the nights sky, seeing how the constellations are littered upon its dark blue canvas. Your eyes twinkle in the moonlight as you gasp for air, spitting out any of the remnants of sand that linger inside your mouth. Hacking rather loudly as you exhale the sand and inhale in the sweet air.

Mustering the last bit of energy that remains inside of you, you pull your torso out of the sand. The lower half of your body are next to follow as you flop onto the ground and onto your back. The scene is one that someone may have seen in a zombie movie, the undead coming back to life crawling their way out of their graves. Their resting place no longer sufficient. Reborn they quench for the thirst of human flesh except for you, you’re thirsty for life. To live again is all you wish for and you’ve been granted exactly that. Having been given the chance of taking another shot at this cruel game of life. Unbeknownst to you, you’re willing to do whatever it takes to make this permanent.

Gazing up at the nights sky you’re blown away at the sight. The sticky situation of being buried alive is no longer relevant having been replaced with the beauty of the world. Bringing forward a hand you hold it up towards the sky, holding it in reference next to the moon. Like porcelain, you shine. The flesh of your skin is soft and supple like a newborn baby, everything about you is new. You’re no longer dead but instead given the chance to take host in this new vessel. The body is still yours, it is you but it’s new and improved. There are no signs of your old body, no vomit seeping past your lips tainting your skin. Your bones are perfectly intact with no signs of damage, there is no wear and tear, everything seems to be working perfectly fine. All that remains is the black Saint Laurent minidress that you wore that night, in its pristine condition.

Sitting upwards you observe your surroundings before dusting the sand off of your body and proceeding to stand up. The landscape is rather vast and covered in nothing but sand. However, it seems like you’ve dug yourself out from the side of a sand dune. The tall hill that sits proudly behind you seems like a good idea to climb. Perhaps there will be more to see at the top, a perfect vantage point. Standing upwards you quickly start climbing, your feet dragging into the sand causing you to fall on your face a couple times but nonetheless you reach the top and what lies in front of you takes your breath away.

It’s a bustling city, lit up by street lanterns and filled with people. It glows in the dark, radiating the silhouettes of its architectural elements. The tall and looming arabesque styled buildings make you feel tiny in comparison. As it draws you in, it doesn’t even look real. Perhaps, this was all a mirage. None of this could be real, you could just be in a state of delusion having just dug yourself out of a hole in the ground but nonetheless you feel hypnotized completely captured by the beauty what lay ahead. In a trance you make your way towards the city.

Your eyes don’t leave the landscape. Admiring how despite how late it seemed, the people were just as lively. The closer you got, the louder the sounds of the city came alive. The place was surrounded by the desert except for the large port docked with multiple ships to the left of the city where it stretched out onto a large body of water. Perhaps, it led out to the seas? You didn’t know. This place seemed almost mythical like a story coming to life, none of it felt real until you found yourself standing in the middle of it all, walking through its streets.

As you wandered around you were met with the confused stares of its citizens as they all gawked at you. Taking one look at yourself and back at them you soon realized you weren’t dressed like they were. The people of the city were adorned in different types of silk garments, light enough to withstand the heat of the dessert but strong enough to protect from the winds at night. Meanwhile you wore something that just seemed skimpy in comparison to their clothing, it made it obvious you weren’t from here.

Ignoring their stares you continue to wander around following the crowds of people. All of which seemed to be heading in one particular direction straight into the upper north side of the city. Up north stood a perfectly, coral white palace that overlooked the city. One that perhaps resembled the Taj Mahal but exceeded in size and was much more grandiose. Strung up in what looks like an assortment of lights it glistens brightly. People fluttering into the palace through its big gates but not just anyone. The people granted access inside were dressed elegantly and much more expensive than the average citizen.

Just what exactly lay ahead? You had to find out.

Stopping a random lady in her path you quickly question her about what lies ahead. After receiving a rather annoyed look from her she’s quick to give you a snarky reply, “We’re celebrating the success of the Jung Family. Their son has gratefully claimed our land back from those filthy pirates.”

“The Jung family? Pirates?” You question out loud as she looks at you stunned. Quickly you change the tone of your reply when you see her squinting her eyes at you in suspicion. Rapidly repeating yourself and fixing your mistake, “Oh yeah! The Jung family! And those pesky little pirates huh?!”

The women simply rolls her eyes in response before quickly scurrying up ahead not wanting to be bothered by your horrible facade. You watch as she walks past the guards and inside leaving you behind. Standing in the outdoor lobby, your feet are cold and perhaps rather grimy against the polished marble floors as you debate whether or not to go inside. It seemed like there was a definite possibility they wouldn’t allow you indoors but maybe going inside would provide you answers on where exactly you were. Taking a deep breath you stride towards the gates, not making any eye contact with the guards.

You maybe get a foot into the palace before you’re stopped and roughly thrown back out.

“No beggars allowed inside.”

Contorting your eyebrows in confusion you look at the guards with disbelief. Here you stood dressed in something that definitely cost more than what someone else was wearing and yet you were denied access inside. Before you could lash out at the guards for being so rough you remember these people aren’t bouncers, in fact it looked like they were from a whole other time period.

This only proved just how out of place you were and you weren’t going anywhere unless you found a change of clothes or somehow snuck inside. Standing back where you once stood with the guards glaring at you, your eyes wander the palace looking for a way in. Glancing at every potential entry point, you scan the entire perimeter. Finally coming to the conclusion that every square inch of the building seemed impossible to penetrate through unseen and with the last few posh citizens piling inside and the gates slamming shut you felt hopeless.

Here you were in a city you didn’t recognize. A place that looked like the Atlantis of the sands, something out of a mythological book with nowhere to go. Just as you turn around to leave the palace something catches your eye. Within the corner of your peripheral vision you see a figure dart in the near distance, whipping your head in that direction just in time to see a young man climb through a window. His silver hair whipping through the wind. One moment he’s there and the next he’s not.

For a moment you decide that maybe this isn’t worth it. Sneaking in couldn’t promise anything but if it did, the reward would probably be huge. Either that or it held huge consequences. Standing there you debate on whether or not you should go and when you remember the words of the man who’d greeted your soul that night his words speak to you once more.

‘You’ll have a second shot, if you make things right.’

Perhaps, this city you were thrown into meant something. A sign of the afterlife? Maybe something that held significant importance? After all, he was the one who’d transferred you here and granted you this new vessel and it seemed to be pretty clear to you by now that everything happens for a reason. Being granted this temporary second shot at life seemed too good to be true but it seemed like there’d be a price to pay if you didn’t accomplish what you were sent for. The only question was, what was it that you needed to do? Glancing at the window you watch as it blows the gold curtains from inside, fluttering it out in the wind. The entryway was almost signalling you inside. The silver haired man from before must have recklessly left it open.

Taking that as your signal, you run towards the opening. Quickly hoisting yourself up onto the window sill and before slipping inside, you hesitate. All that echoes through your mind is your subconscious screaming at you to just go for it, you do exactly that thinking,

“Fuck it. What’s the worst that could happen, dying twice?”

Like an absolute moron you tumble into the room colliding rather loudly with the hard floor. The whole idea of staying quiet and unseen seemed to be impossible for you to accomplish. Turning around you reach for the doors of the window thinking that at least covering your tracks would help. Just as your fingers brace against the metallic framing of the handle you’re stopped in your tracks.

“Hey,” Calls out someone. The tone of the voice isn’t commanding but instead rather friendly. Looking downwards, you’re met with a rather tall man. His black hair is sleeked back in a hairstyle, two small braids hanging from the side of his scalp. His dark , obsidian orbs are staring right back at you as you gawk at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Clad in the same attire as everyone else you simply brush him off, quickly reaching for the knob and trying to slam it shut in fear of being caught. Only to have your movements halted when his large hand makes contact with your wrist.

“Leave the window open will you?” He asks as the corners of his mouth stretch into a rather playful grin.

“What? Why don’t you just go through the gate like everyone else?” You ironically retort as you attempt to shake his grip off with no success.

“What if I don’t belong here?” He questions. Raising his eyebrows rather theatrically as you freeze on the spot, “Just like you.” With those words you’re quick to release the knob and he’s just as quick to release his grip. He’d clearly been watching you and you were absolutely clueless as to just exactly how long.

The encounter is quick to set off your fight or flight instinct as you make a run for the door, trying to get as far away as possible from the window. Only to be stopped by the same man from before, plummeting to the floor merely inches away from freedom. He rolls you onto your back as he straddles your body, his weight doesn’t crush you in pain but he’s certainly applying pressure and it doesn’t feel great. Using one of his hands to hold both of yours above your head making you essentially defenceless as you try and kick him off with no result.

“Let’s just make something clear,” He begins. Slowly leaning in closer and closer towards you, stopping merely inches away from your face and specifically from your lips. His breath is hot against your skin as you inhale the heavy smell of tobacco and light cologne that omits from his body. Despite having nowhere to look but at him, deep down you feel hot. The burning sensation that rests at the pit of your stomach makes butterflies erupt inside. You can’t help but admire just how good looking he is and how dangerous. A combination you always couldn’t resist. Your chest is heaving up and down as you struggle to stay calm, your breath even hitches a couple times as his eyes burn into yours. He’s reading you silently like an open book and you can’t help but feel like this vulnerability is lustrous and you want more.

Slowly his other hand snakes up your torso, starting at your navel and tiptoeing through the valley in between of your breasts, finally stopping at your neck. His movements are agile and it feels like his fingers are dancing upon your skin. He takes his time knowing that he’s got the upper hand and that the ship sails his way, not yours.

Suddenly his hand is wrapped tightly around your neck, gripping the flesh with his slender, calloused fingers. As they press into the sides of your neck skillfully avoiding your windpipe. You’re thankful he isn’t holding you directly down or else he’d probably crush your only main source of breathing. As your vision starts to fall hazy, you’re seeing stars. It’s like peering into the milky way through a telescope looking at the numerous planets and right now you’re looking at Venus. He is beauty, he is mysterious and he is bold. If Venus was a boy it’d be this man hovering above you. Helplessly watching his every movement as he leans down closer gravitating towards your lips before swerving to the left and placing his mouth close to your ear. The situation makes your heart bounce almost as if you’ve just dodged an astroid.

“If you tell anyone about our little encounter, about me. I’ll go out of my way to kill you first and believe me my schedules pretty full,” The tone in his voice is menacing, definitely evoking more fear within you and you can’t help but gargle out a weak agreement in response. This man came to do business and it seemed like he’d barely decided to spare you and he definitely wouldn’t the next time. He must’ve been convinced with your response because you feel his body weight shift away from you. The sounds of his footsteps move towards the door, his weight creaking against the floor boards and just before he leaves, you prop yourself up calling out to him weakly, “W-who are you?”

Slowly he turns around looking down on you, the light from the corridor behind him illuminating his figure. “Let’s just say, I’m not very liked here,” Is his response as he brings a finger up towards his lips, twisting them and playfully and throwing away the make belief key. With that he’s gone, disappearing down the hallway and you can’t help but think of one word and one word only. The exact definition of just exactly who this man was, a pirate. Given tonights circumstances that the lady from before had mentioned, it didn’t look like things were going to end very well in terms of the celebration.

𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑹𝑰𝑮𝑯𝑻𝑺 𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑬𝑫 ©︎𝑫𝑼0𝑻𝑰𝑵𝑬

#PART ONE OF THE PROLOGUE!#LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK AND IF YOUD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!#nct #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #this was shit but I figured I should release SOMETHING #LMK IF U COULD FIGURE OUT WHICH TWO MEMBERS APPEAR FIRST!#nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct 127 fanfic #na jaemin x reader #jaehyun x reader #Lucas x reader #xiaojun x reader

136 notes · View notes

after-valiant-hero-ask · 4 years ago

Text

Soooo, somehow the "keep reading" Thing on tumblr kinda beoken for me, so I can't really post this with the keep reading, but also, I made a post about going to make a fandic of After Valiant Hero that takes place BEFORE the main event onthe comic, sooo, here it is!! I hope you all enjoy it! (And also, it's 2.000+ words long, so, it's kinda long^^)

============================

"TONIGHT"

by LovelyPink2005

——————————

Summary:

This takes 2 months after the valiant Hero ending, right when the toppats decided to celebrate their fully recovered airship and the clan, but something is up with sven that made him missed the whole party.

Note:

I'm not that good on english, so, I'm so sorry if this fic came out bad^^"

And also, this is a fanfic I wrote about the story of the messy doodle/sketch comic I did of sven and Charles on whiteboard, so, uhhh, yeah^^"

——————————

It was the day after they did their first heist after recovering their airship and their clan, which is 2 months after the Valiant Hero ending. It also charles's first time too, he feels strange for doing that, like there's something wrong with it but can't quite put a finger on it. He decided to forget about it. "It's probably just the side effect."

The toppat clan wanted to celebrate it for their success, they talk to talk, share to share about having a party for it, until it delivered to charles and sven who is on their room. "A party huh?" Sven said as he put his hand on his chin, thinking about it. "Suits yourself, If you wanted to celebrate it, then go for it" He continue with a smile on his face. He turned his head to charles to see his face full of excitement for that party, like he never had them before.

"Sven" Charles called as he put his hand on sven's shoulder. "Let's have it tonight!"

"Yeah, sure..." Sven paused, looking down for a second, and lifted his face back to charles. "Sure!".

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, if you all want it, then go for it."

"Alright, I'll go inform the others about this." He gives sven a pat on the back before leaving the room.

Sven waves and wanted to say "c'ya" to charles very badly, but charles already left them room. Sighed, and sits back to his bed, and looked up on the ceiling, smiling. "Hey, are you ok there..?" His face could easily shows you a bit of sadness, and pain. Sven was talking to himself, but really, he just missed his old friend.

Someone who used to be around him, a friend who ALWAYS around him ever since he joined the toppat clan. Burt Curtis. That's his name. Sven and Burt joined the toppat clan on the same day years ago, they even meet right before entering the airship. They keeps on running into each other as their relationship grows, until they become the best of friends. Even after Sven become the leader, their relationship or friendship still is the same.

But… sadly… He died at the orbital station when it exploded. got left behind because he was trapped on a room and couldn't get out. Sven wish he could found him, but the other toppats dragged him with force to the pod.

He couldn't save him. He failed to save him. The last thing he even heard from him was a when he called sven after the luxury pod has escaped.

"We're having a party tonight... Wish you could join us burt." A tear runs down on his face.

He wiped it as he rubs his eyes. "Ugh, c'mon sven, pull it together!" He palmed both of his hands on his face and falls on his bed.

"He's gone! Just.. Try to—– uuggghh!" He sighed to himself. He quickly sits up and try to pull his act together. A forced smile on his face, but it's not that obvious.

Take a deep breath, and let it out as he then go outside to also inform the others about the party. Yeah, let's just focus on that, focus on the clan. Maybe the other could distract him from his mind.

---

Charles straight up go to the cafeteria since most toppats usually just hang out there. He saw one of the toppat he usually talk to if sven wasn't around. He called him.

"Harold!" Said charles as he waved his hand at him and the other toppats that's with him.

Ah yes, Handsome Harold. Charles usually hang around him since he's the second person who ever talk to him after he woke up and got amnesia.

"Oh, Charles" Harold rise his hand up as high as his face.

"Sve— uhh, Chief said that we're having a party to celebrate the fully recovered of our clan!"

Harold and the other toppats look at each others as their eyes widened open.

What?? "Really?"

Charles nodded. The other toppats slowly having their face with smiles.

"Alright lads! Let's prepare things up for the party!" One of the toppat called Wallace Dagwood, yelled as the others on the cafeteria then cheered.

A couple of hours has passed, and the party is almost ready. The whole cafeteria was full with a lot of stuff, Charles just can't wait for sven to see this. There's a bunch of food and snacks on the food table, such as pizza, chicken wings, tacos, cupcakes, cake, and other food that usually on a party. There's also a berry punch, and some alcohols on the drink table.

Beside the foods and drinks, there's also a lot of decorations and other stuff that changed on the cafeteria. Like a small stage for anyone who wanted to perform anything. Blue carpet on the whole floor of the room, and disco light-ball. Charles can't really describe everything, but all he could say is that everything is going to be awesome!

Huh?

In a flip, he realized something. He haven't see Sven around to help since he know that Sven likes to help around.

Is he not feeling well?

He did startled for sometimes today whenever he talks… is there anything wrong with him?

Charles can only feel worried about him. But he hopes that non of his thoughts are true.

"Oi Charles!"

Sometimes tapped his shoulder. He jumped a bit and making the "eep" Sound as he surprised.

"Hmm? Oh, it's you" He signed, It was of course Harold.

"What were you thinking? I saw you were excited a view second ago, but then you immediately worried" Said Harold.

"What's wrong?"

"I- huh? No no, you guessed it wrong, why would I be worried when there's a party right in front me?"

How the heck did he know? Can he read face expression that good???

Harold sighed. "Charles, it's all over your face."

Shoot, Right. Knew it.

"O-oh, well, you're right" He smiles. "But I only worried because this will be the first party I'll ever have, since, you know.." He scratched his head.

He lost his memories. He can't even remember everything, how can he remember the last time he even go to one, right?

"Yeah, I know, sorry for that" He wrapped his hand around Charles.

"But they'll all come back! Even if they won't, you can always create new memory!" Harold just trying to cheer 'em up. "Just don't forget to have your medicals, 'kay?"

Charles smile and nodded.

Both of them then go to help t he others finishing some stuff for the party.

---

Sven was outside of the security room, the place where he get to see outside and have the winds in his hair (the place where henry got in the airship when we choose the grapple gun (PBT)).

Just standing there, watching the sun setting down. He looked at the sky.

Thinking to himself. Wishing that all of this was just a really long dream, and when he wakes up, everything was still… Normal. Burt still there, the orbital station was save and sound. And Reginald never got arrested.

He's been there for a hour now, until Charles contacted him. His phone buzzing.

"Hmm?" He picked his phone. It's Charles…

He takes a deep breath, and then answer the call. "Hello"?

"Sven! Where are you? I can't find you in your room, or the cafeteria!" Said Charles in a little worried tone.

"The party is starting in a hour!"

"Oh, really?" He responded as his eyes widened a bit. He didn't thought it'll be starting that fast. "That was fast"

"Yeah, and— wait, Sven! Are you at that place again??" Charles could hear the sound of the winds through sven's phone.

"... Well, yeah?"

"What's wrong?? You only goes there is you're down, you know that you have your greatest friend hereto help you!" Charles raised his voice, but not in an angry way, but more like in a worried and abit of disappointed tone.

Huh? Oh right, he knew.

"No, it's fine Charles! I only looking for some fresh air!"

Hmmm, that sounds convincing alright.

"Okay, but you HAVE to be here when the party started! It'll be the greatest time, truste!"

Sven chuckled on how silly Charles is. "Yeah yeah, I'll be there".

He closed the call as he sighed. He closed his eyes and smile as he shakes his head.

"Charles Charles, guess there's different between you two after all" He chuckled.

Sven then make his way In. He walk through the security room, the hall of portraits, and finally, the kitchen. He stopped there for a bit, looking at the drawer. He then turns around and open up the drawer where he knew a bottle of alcohol would be there. He takes it and looks at it for a while. His face seems like he had no emotions, it's pale, but you could see through his face that he's… tired.

Sven continue walking and bringing the alcohol. He's going to his room.

---

An hour and a half has passed, and there is no sign of Sven yet. Charles keeps on looking around. The party already going since around 30 minutes ago. Charles bit his lips for a bit, worried if there's really something wrong with sven.

He takes a sip of the berry punch as he holding one cup of it.

"Sven, where are you?" He whispered to himself.

A toppat named Carol Cross approach Charles from behind. "Where's sven?" She asked.

"Oh! Miss Carol!" He waved his hand to her, and then immediately scratched his head. "I uh, not sure, I haven't see him anyway around this place".

"Hmm, you should go and find him, don't wanna make him missed tonight."

"Yeah, maybe I should" He put his cup on the table. "Cya around Miss carol, and enjoy the party!". Charles immediately left the cafeteria and try to look for Sven everywhere. It'll took him a while since the airship is really big, he could be anywhere.

After a while, he still couldn't find him, until he walked over to their room.

"Sven? Are you here?" Charles opened the door to their room and look inside.

As he though, he was on their room, sitting on the chair right in front of his small desk beside his bed. But is he drinking by himself??

"Uhh… Sven, are you drunk?" He asked as he approach him. He saw a bottle of alcohol beside him that's almost empty. Sven usually can't handle to much alcohol, a couple of small cup can already made him drunk alright.

He sits next to him. "Are.. you ok? You shouldn't drink by yourself sven".

" O-oh… burt, you're here—"

Burt?? Who is he talking about? He's clearly brunk very badly.

"Uhh, sven, it's me, Charles. You're ready drunk, aren't you?"

He then takes the bottle from sven to prevent him from drinking more. "You should stop now, you don't even recognize me that well" He put the bottle away.

Sven looks at sven, his face really looking like a zombie who just came back to life. He smiled as he saw Charles.

"S-stop joking around—– I know that's you Burt-" He hiccups every now and then.

"Heh, you're so silly Burt… I know it's you.." Sven turned his head back to the cup he's holding.

"You'll always found me whenever I'm like.. This—- I know I've only saw you a couple hours ago…But for some reason… i missed you.. So— much.."

Charles has no clue what he's talking about. But then he somehow remember something. Sven once mentioned he used had a friend from high school maybe? He said they're really close friend. One thing he know that sven missed them too, so, Charles assume he think he's the old friend of sven???

A sob could be heard from sven.

"I…Always wanted to tell you something… b-but— I'm always to coward.."

Charles kinda feels bad for him. He then patted sven's back. "Sven, snap out of it, it's me, Charles, you should get some rest and—–" Before he finish his sentence,he could feel that Sven is about to pass out in any moment. "Woah, sven-"

"I know I know… but B-burt.. Before I Pass out, at least let me tell you h-how I—–"

Without any warning, sven grabbed Charles hand and dragged him really closed to him.

"S-sven!?"

Again, without any warning, sven pulled Charles closer as he kissed him on the lips for like 5 second.

What. The. Heck!?!?!???? Did he just..!?

Sven then immediately fall as he fainted. Charles quickly grab him before he fell to the floor.

Charles's face became RED. He didn't know what the hell just happened. Did his friend just kissed him!? That was unpredictable. He couldn't believe that.

"Wh— what was that…!?"

He never and didn't have that kind of feeling towards Sven, so that's not the reason he blushed. Sven literally just took Charles's first kiss. And that's at least how Charles feel about it. He rubs his mouth as in, he wish that never happened. He didn't want his first kiss to be from his great friend.

But at the same time, he still feel bad for Sven. He once mentioned that he used to have this friend on high school and rhat they've separated from each others for so long, with sven still have this feeling for them. At least that's what Charles assume.

Charles sighed. The blush on his face started to fade away as he calmed down.

"W-well, guess sven will missed tonight's party."

Charles then picks up Sven and lay him down on his bed. He put the blanket on him.

After that Charles tried his best NOT to mention that even happened or even slipped through his mouth as he foes back to the party.

---

The sun is rising, another day has come.

The party was a blast last night, but to bad sven missed all of it.

Sven slowly opens his eyes ashe waking up. Yawning and rubs his eyes before sitting down. He feels a bit dizzy, but can't quite remember what happened last night.

Oh wait, think he did, he remember that he drank by himself on the room until he passed out. At least that's how he remembers it.

As Sven was still sitting on his bed,Charles came in the room while having himself a cup of coffee. He then saw Sven.

"O-oh, morning there sven!" He waved his hand at him, highly hoping he didn't remember what happened last night. He sat down on his own bed.

"Morning Charles, didn't expect you to wake up sooner than me" Said sven as he stretched his arms.

"Oh, yeah, uh, well, you were really tired yesterday, so, that's explain why you over slept?" He takes a sip from his hot coffee.

"Heh, pretty much, I was kinda uh, drunk last night and passed out"

Phew, He didn't remember THAT. Charles relief.

"Yeah-" Charles then change the topic in a second to prevent him from trying to remember that night.

"H-hey sven! You totally missed the party! As I said, it was the greatest!" He said as he smiles brightly.

"Oh really?" He smiled back to him. "Tell me about it then.

Charles then when on telling Sven everything that happened on the party, really detailed. From where Charles went off to inform the others about doing a party, until the party ended and everyone have to clean them up after it.

Days has passed, and Sven haven't remember what has happened that night. So Charles decided to keep it a secret to himself, until now.

===========================

Welp, that's all of the fantic! I hope you enjoyed this, and tha k you so much for putting your time to read this all t he way down here! I really appreciate it!✨✨✨

#after valiant hero #henry stickmin #the henry stickmin collection #the toppat clan #henry stickmin valiant hero #charles calvin #henry stickmin charles #sven svensson #henry stickmin fantic #henry stickmin AU #burt curtis #sven x burt #sven x charles???

41 notes · View notes

brockkboeserr · 5 years ago

Text

nicotine – rafe (scout’s writing challenge)

You’re already addicted to cigarettes, and Rafe is worse than nicotine.

Loosely based on Panic! At The Disco’s Nicotine.

Warnings: cigarette usage, mention of drugs, implied smut, angst

Pairing: Rafe x reader

Words: 1.9k

A/N: Sorry this isn’t the next part of feel something, but I was inspired and wanted to write for @ptersparkers writing challenge. I said I wanted to write fluff, but this came out instead. Hope y’all like it!

The outer banks air is unseasonably cold tonight, and the hand not holding a cigarette rests deeply in your hoodie pocket as you take a drag. You’re standing on the beach in your backyard, waiting for your best friend, and sometimes lover, Rafe to arrive. You inhale the nicotine and exhale a moment later, blowing smoke from your lips.

“I wish you would quit,” a soft voice says from behind you. You spin around and come face to face with the man you were waiting for. You roll your eyes as you comprehend what he has just said.

“Why?” you ask, “we’re all going to die eventually, I didn’t think I needed to tell you that what with your habits. Besides, why not have a little fun before we go?” Nonetheless, you put out your cigarette against a tree.

“I fail to see how smoking on a cancer stick is fun,” he replies dryly. You laugh, which only seems to annoy him. Here he is, chastising you over a simple cigarette, when you’ve seen him take multiple bumps in a single evening. Quickly closing the distance between you, you reach up to pull his face down to your level. He towers over your shorter frame, always having to drop his head to meet your waiting lips.

“I could show you ‘fun’ if you like,” you whisper. He raises an eyebrow, as if challenging you, and you press your lips to his. Your thoughts scatter and all you know is that you want him. You want to be close to him, you want to feel his heart beat, you want to feel him inside of you. The kiss deepens, and his hands roam your body, teasing strokes up and down your hips, drifting down to squeeze your ass. When you finally pull back for air, you’re gasping. You look up at him and all you see are his eyes, heavy with lust. Your knees feel weak, your vision spinning slightly. You realize then that he is like a drug, and you, an addict.

It is at that moment, when you remember the cold. Biting your lip, you push Rafe inside your patio doors, stopping to close the door behind you. And then you are kissing again, hands everywhere, clothing quickly discarded. You don’t know what to think or feel, right now you’re consumed by the feel of him all over you.

You wake to an empty bed, unsurprisingly. This is typical of your friendship with Rafe. By night lovers, and by morning… nothing. You can’t deny, this is not a healthy situation by any means. Your other friends warn you that you are going to hurt each other. You know realistically that situations like yours do not end happily, but you’re happy. For now. You don’t know what the future holds, be it heartbreak or something else, but you prefer to live in the moment. And the moment is Rafe.

You break from your thoughts and slowly make your way out of bed. You stretch for a long moment and feel the satisfying pop of cracking bones. You decide a quick shower won’t hurt, as you scrub the feeling of Rafe’s body on yours and let it wash down the drain.

You sit in your robe for a few minutes, hair up in a towel, deciding on what you’ll wear today. You promised Rafe you would watch movies with him today, not knowing just how heated last night would turn out. Okay, that’s a lie, you had a feeling that’s how last night would turn out because that’s how the nights usually turn out. Before you realize it, you’ve zoned out for almost half an hour so you quickly dress in a pair of high waisted shorts and a crop top before throwing your hair up in a messy ponytail. A little eyeliner completes the look and you don’t even bother with any additional makeup knowing the obx sun will make quick work of it. You run down the stairs, not bothering to be quiet as you know neither of your parents are home.

It’s a quick walk to Rafe’s, as your houses are right next to each other.

“Hey y/n!” Sarah greets as she and Wheezie exit the front door of their house just as you arrive.

“Hey guys,” you smile at them, throwing your arms around them in a hug, “where are you ladies headed to this morning?”

Wheezie breaks free of the hug first. “We thought we should give you and Rafe some alone time,” Sarah answers with a wink. You sigh deeply. The two Cameron sisters are convinced Rafe and you are soul mates, and they’ll do anything in their power to try and make the two of you see it. Though, truth be told, there are times when you can see Rafe as your boyfriend, but most of the time, it seems to be the craziest of pipe dreams.

“Goodbye girls,” you call over your shoulder as you step into the foyer. Rafe is sitting in the living room, he’s wearing a cream colored Henley and the red snapback you love so much. His entire focus seems to be Instagram, judging by the way his thumb is scrolling through his phone. He turns when he hears the sound of the door clicking shut and smiles at you, motioning for you to join him on the couch. You drop your bag and kick off your shoes, before taking your usual spot beside Rafe.

“What do you want to watch?” he asks, but you merely shrug.

“You’re the one who invited me here,” you answer. You bicker slightly over who should chose the movie before settling on a traditional action movie. You’re not interested in the plot of the movie, to say the least. You’re more aware of Rafe’s arm around you, and the feelings growing in the pit of your stomach. You rest your head against Rafe’s shoulder, and he shifts to make you more comfortable.

During the two hours of the movie, you reflect on your unconventional friendship with Rafe. The more you think about it, the more you realize that you are growing actual, real, feelings for Rafe. That thought fills you with anxiety, as you realize that was the last thing either of you had wanted. That’s not true, if you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been in love with Rafe since you were nine years old. Growing up beside the Camerons, it was only natural that you befriended the neighbour boy with the dirty blonde hair who was in your class. As you grew closer and older, that natural friendship morphed into something a little more. You decide it would be better to distract yourself from your thoughts, so you lean up and gently kiss Rafe.

He doesn’t respond to your advances right away, so you decide to change tactics, and move your lips from his mouth, down his jaw. Your right hand drifts teasingly over the front of his pants. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows air. You smirk a little, knowing you are getting to him. A thought occurs to you then, and you feel the need to share. “You’re worse than nicotine,” you whisper in-between each kiss. A look of confusion passes through his eyes, but you continue kissing down his neck, briefly stopping to suck on his pulse point, until he leans down and captures your mouth with his. Your hands somehow find themselves tangled in his hair after flipping his snapback off his head, and you lean into his embrace. His hand slips under your shirt, but you grab it and pull yourself away from him.

“What is it?” He asks, slightly out of breath.

“Rafe I- I have something to confess… I have feelings for you.” you confess. He pauses, and you can tell right away his reaction is not one you’re going to like.

“Y/n… I’m sorry, you’re my best friend and I love you, and, God, you can do wonderful things with your mouth, but I don’t think of you like that,” He finally speaks, somewhat awkwardly.

“Oh,” is all you can think of to reply. You realize you’ve made a horrible mistake and may have permanently wrecked the best friendship you’ve ever had. Your hand flies to cover your mouth as you process what you’ve just done. “I- I have to go, I have this thing and-“ you jump up from the couch, and grab your things before dashing out the door.

“Y/n, wait!” Rafe calls after you, but you ignore him, racing to return to your house before breaking down like a lunatic.

A part deep inside of you knew that revealing your feelings for Rafe would not end well, but you childishly thought that perhaps, just this once, your feelings would be reciprocated. You find it hard to breathe, much like last night, but as an almost opposite reaction. If you could go back you wouldn’t have said anything, you would have kept your mouth shut. Your hands shake as you try to put your key into the lock on your door, and you hear thundering footsteps behind me. Silently sending a prayer, please don’t be Rafe, please don’t be Rafe. Your prayers are not answered however, when you see the tall and muscular form of your best friend round the corner.

“Y/n…” He looks at you like he wants to say something, but pauses, “let’s talk inside.” You numbly nod. He takes your keys from you and easily unlocks the door.

You both sit in the kitchen a few minutes later. You’re nursing a wine cooler between your hands and Rae sits there staring at you.

“Y/n, I wanted to talk to you about what just happened.” He remarks.

“What just happened… it was a mistake. I shouldn’t have said anything,” you quietly reply.

“I’m… I’m glad you told me,” Rafe appears to be choosing his words carefully, as he stops and thinks for a moment, “I don’t want you to keep secrets from me.”

“But I just made things so awkward! I should have kept my mouth shut,” you say, standing up, pausing before revealing what’s really on your mind, “I can’t lose you.”

“You’ll never lose me,” Rafe tries to reassure you. There’s something in his eyes that makes you believe him. There’s something else in them, the way the pupils are dilated, that causes your throat to constrict and your heart to beat a little faster.

Before you fully comprehend your own body’s actions, you and Rafe are tangled in one another again. You know it’s a terrible idea, fucking Rafe won’t solve your problems, won’t make him love you. You realize that your earlier words ring true. To you, Rafe is worse than nicotine. You’re well and truly addicted. You also realize that you can’t continue to do this to yourself. Your feelings for Rafe won’t disappear, and you know that Rafe can never love you back the way you want him to.

This is the last time, you promise yourself, giving into Rafe’s hands on your body and his lips on your neck.

Just one more hit and then we’re through Cause you’ll never love me back You’re worse than nicotine

#obx #obx netflix #outerbanks #obx fanfic #obx fanfiction #rafe obx #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you fanfiction #angst #ppwritingchallenge #diverdcwn writes

170 notes · View notes

lysissisyl · 5 years ago

Text

Here’s my story for the event @raines-stories-n-things organized. Thank you for your hard work.

I don’t know if you knew, but you assigned me a prompt for my fiancée, making it all even more special for us. So... to @patricia-von-arundel , with all my love. 💜

Trick or kiss?

Byleth has always loved Halloween. She could see the kids wearing crazy costumes and going out trick-or-treating in tv shows, all the horror houses, with their mechanical creatures moving and making creepy sounds (she heard people calling them “animatronics”). Even kids’ cartoons had special episodes airing on that day.

When she was a child, it was considered something foreign, an American tradition that nobody followed or cared about in her country, but things had started to change with time. Now kids wore costumes and went out asking for sweets. They knocked at their neighbors’ doors asking “Dolcetto o scherzetto?” Their parents had to hang messages to tell people to get ready, so they had something to give them, and they usually didn’t leave the building or the street they lived in, but it was something. They received normal sweets, nothing crazy, nothing made for the occasion. People didn’t hang up decorations, not many at least. The neighbors had carved pumpkin and put it out of their door once. You could see some funny things in shops, but not much, nothing compared to Christmas, for example (even if even Christmas decorations weren’t as fancy as the American ones). She knew there were Halloween Parties, but chaotic discos weren’t her cup of tea. She tried wearing a simple costume and walking around, she took some pictures once, but people looked at her like she was strange. (To be honest, they often did and it didn’t bother her, but the atmosphere wasn’t exactly thrilling.)

She could notice the difference the moment she arrived at the airport. The shops there were full, literally full of anything Halloween related. They even had pets’ costumes! There were decals and lights and things she didn’t know how to call on display. Some kids already had costumes, even if it wasn’t the 31st yet.

As far as she loved it all though, she never stopped to buy or look at anything for more than a second; she had other things on her mind now. One thing in particular: Edelgard.

Edelgard was waiting (in)patiently. She had arrived at the airport an hour and a half in advance and had been pacing since. After reading the flight landed, she started checking the time and her phone basically every 5 seconds. She only stopped the moment she saw Byleth walking towards her. They both froze for a few seconds before running into each other’s arms. It had been too long. It was always too long. Edelgard was sure she was going to cry any moment, but she categorically refused to cry in public. She needed to keep herself busy and she needed to bring Byleth home. Now.

Whatever was outside the airport doors, Byleth didn’t notice. She could blame the long flight (and she was actually very tired and dazed), but the truth was that all her brain could process for a while was the warmth of Edelgard’s hand in hers.

“...or you prefer going straight home?”

“What?”

The look on her face must have been 50% smitten adoration and 50% pure confusion, because Edelgard blushed and laughed. “I was asking if you want to go and pick up some food or you prefer going straight home and let me make something for you there.” She paused and smiled slightly. “Perhaps I should just bring you too bed though, since you truly look exhausted.”

Was that concern or a timid attempt to tease? Maybe both. And she sure wasn’t too tired to fight back. “Don’t worry about that. Resting my head on your shoulder while you drive will sure make miracles for my awareness level.”

Edelgard almost let her car keys fall and clumsily opened the trunk. “Give me your luggage, so we can go wherever you want.” The imperative tone told Byleth she hit home. Score! She handed her the big case with a grin.

After they both got in the car Edelgard started the engine and they left the parking lot in silence. Most people would have considered it awkward, but it wasn’t. It was that kind of silence that two people can share when they’re truly close and are just feeling each other’s presence. It was a very intimate silence.

They both liked listening to music in the car and they often did, but not now: this short trip was just for them, to enjoy being together after such a long time, alone.

Edelgard broke the silence first. “From a more practical side...”, she stopped, realizing her voice was going to betray her thoughts again. There was no time to think about the softness of Byleth’s body against hers. Focus, Edelgard! She cleared her voice. “Do you want to stop somewhere for food or not?”

Too harsh. But Byleth smiled. She could read her far too well. “I vote for sushi. Sushi is always good for a date.”

Edelgard silently thanked the darkness for hiding her blush. They had been together for month, but the word “date” still had such a strong effect on her! If felt like she was suddenly so light she could fly and the only thing preventing her from getting lost in the vast sky was Byleth. Byleth being there meant she could fly safely.

Drive safely. She should focus on the road and drive safely. No flying. Why was she even thinking about flying? “Sushi sounds good.” The answer came late enough for Byleth to giggle.

Sushi looked good too. That was Byleth’s first thought in the restaurant. She saw a waiter passing by with some and she suddenly realized how hungry she truly was.

When Edelgard showed her the menu, her eyes literally lightened up. It wasn’t that she had never had sushi, she had it often, but sharing it with Edelgard was different. It was special. She rarely smiled, but even just discussing what to order made her smile. Edelgard had that strange effect on her. She had had it from the start.

Byleth had lived almost all her life barely feeling. She acknowledged most emotions, but...they weren’t truly there. It was like living behind a glass. It was normal to her, but she could still see it. When she met Edelgard though, that glass began to crack and when they got together...it shattered. It felt truly like she came with a giant axe and just smashed it. Gone. In instants. She saved her from a cold she wasn’t even fully aware off. And now...now she was smiling at sushi and she felt like laughing.

The drive home was peaceful. They kept talking about places to visit and things to do. They had discussed them many times, most at least, but it was different now: the time had come. So they kept talking and planning, just because it felt good to. At least, they kept talking until Byleth stopped replying.

Now Edelgard was sitting in the car, parked in her usual spot, uncertain about what to do. Byleth was resting her head on her shoulder, like she had playfully mentioned before, one of her hands was holding onto her shirt. She was sound asleep. Edelgard didn’t dare moving. She felt like when a kitten fell asleep on her lap. Part of her just wanted to stay there and watch her sleep. She could admire her beautiful face, put her hand on hers, kiss her forehead if she turned carefully enough. Part of her though desperately wanted to bring her home, carry her to bed, wrap her arms around her and kiss her, being it just a kiss goodnight or something more. She just wanted to kiss her beaut-

The rational part of her cut that thought there, reminding her they needed to get out of the car, carry the luggage inside, have dinner. Only then it would have been time to go to bed. Together... Feeling her so close against her...and-

Focus! Luggage, then dinner.

She lifted her left hand, then stopped a few centimeters from Byleth’s head. Hesitation. They had been together for month, but she still hesitated. Her thoughts went easily out of control, she often found herself daydreaming until she could almost feel her skin, but her body still stopped, like it wondered if she was truly allowed. She internally laughed at herself, letting her fingers into Byleth’s hair. Messy and soft. She loved it. She stroked them gently, until she felt her girlfriend humming and her hand tightening its grip on her shirt. Cute.

“El?” Byleth’s voice sounded so sleepy... Unusual for someone who always said she completely woke up in seconds. Edelgard’s hand stopped when she found herself unreasonably flustered again. “Sushi is good fresh. We better go.” Too harsh. Again. She sighed, getting out of the car. “I’ll take your luggage.”

Byleth didn’t seem to object, so she did, holding the handle so tight her knuckles turned white. She walked straight to the front door, fully focused on one goal at a time. Keys, keyhole, unlock. She could hear Byleth’s footsteps behind her, stopping when she turned around to close the door. She heard the lock, then another step, Byleth’s hand on her shoulder. She froze.

“El?”

She left the case fall and turned around without thinking, pulling her close and holding her in the tightest hug she had ever experienced. She was there, home with her, she was real.

She was real.

She felt Byleth slowly hugging her back. She held her breath. Neither of them was used to hugs. Byleth was the only person Edelgard felt comfortable hugging and she had no doubt the same went for her.

•~•~•~

For the first time in a while, Byleth didn’t jump on her feet as soon as she woke up. The first thing she was aware of was the warmth of Edelgard’s body against hers. She felt her snuggling closer when she gently stroke her hair, still half asleep. She looked so adorable! She probably would have grumbled at the word, but she was. The thought made Byleth laugh.

Edelgard looked up, suddenly embarrassed, her hands trying to let go of her shirt and failing. She decided to hide her face against her chest instead. “What are you laughing at?”

Tempting, damn tempting… “You’re cute.”

She couldn’t see Edelgard’s face, but she had no doubt it was bright red.

“I am not.” She was clearly fighting herself when she got up. “We should have breakfast. We have an interesting day waiting for us.”

She headed to the kitchen without waiting for an answer, probably to hide the enthusiastic side that was breaking her sulking mask. Cute.

For the first time in a while, Edelgard had had no nightmare.

It wasn’t the first time. Having Byleth there always made miracles for her sleep. Having Byleth in general was enough for an improvement, but…having her there was like a spell. She could let go, she felt safe, like her ghosts couldn’t touch her, like her past couldn’t hurt her anymore. Her demons were tamed.

She smiled, the smile growing wider when she saw Byleth approaching. She knew she would have followed her right after, but actually seeing her there still made her emotional.

She took a pan and a few ingredients and realized she was humming a tune only halfway through the preparations. She hushed fretfully, pouring the mix in. Another giggle, then arms wrapping around her from behind, Byleth’s breath on her neck.

She shivered. “The waffles are going to get burnt.”

“Would it be a big deal?”

“I bought a pumpkin-shaped waffle-plate just to make you Halloween waffles. I would be very pissed.” She was such a bad liar. Her voice betrayed her. She laughed at herself.

Another giggle. “You’re lucky I’m hungry in the morning.” She left a kiss on her neck before taking a step back. “But you still owe me cuddles after leaving like that."

That playful attitude was new too. Byleth always appeared so distant around people… Being allowed to see this side of her was a privilege (even if the little shit loved teasing her). “You shouldn’t have called me cute.”

“But you are.”

Edelgard glared at her. “Do you still want your waffles?”

“I’m not saying another word.” Her grin talked for her though.

The waffles smelled delicious and tasted even better. Edelgard had added fruit on some, poured strange creepy-colored glazes on others. The red one looked like blood, but tasted like cherry. She couldn’t identify the purple and green ones, but food colors were probably involved. She sipped from her cup one last time, inhaling the characteristic smell of Edelgard’s favorite Bergamot tea. She usually brewed some to share when they were together, but today Edelgard had other projects. She had served her some in a black, spooky cup, with a spider-shaped cookie on the side. Byleth sure wasn’t the only one loving Halloween.

“You mentioned projects for today.”

“ Yes. We are going out early. We have some shopping to do.”

She had such a happy look on her face, like a child who was going to show their parents the phantasmagoric new dinosaur toy they just won in a game at the fair. Byleth couldn’t help it. “Cute.”

Edelgard wasn’t actually a big fan of shopping, but this was different: this was Halloween shopping!

She had spent a long time planning it all, thinking about all the things they had discussed, adding more... This was Byleth’s first time truly celebrating Halloween and she wanted to make it perfect for her.

Their first stop was the reason she wanted to go out early. Costume shops usually got really crowded later those days. They spent more than an hour trying the silliest things on, showing each other, laughing together. They ended up dressing as a king and his knight. Those costumes won their hearts the moment Byleth kneeled before her and Edelgard started stuttering something about giving the wrong impression and making her thoughts strange. Edelgard also added an axe to her costume, stating a true king should fight side by side with his soldiers. Brave and strong even when playing around... Was it silly to feel proud? Byleth shook her head with a smile. Did it matter? She was.

The second place was a huge, HUGE store, full of all kinds of things, from forniture to food. There was an entire isle dedicated to Halloween decorations. Edelgard only had a few, but she was determined to make her house spooky this year. The first thing Byleth took was a pumpkin-shaped string lights.

“We could use them for the Christmas tree too.”

“ Halloween stuff on the Christmas tree? Not very traditional.” Edelgard smiled. “ I like it.”

“We could keep some other decorations out too, put a Christmas hat on the skeleton’s head.”

“We don’t have a skeleton.”

Byleth shrugged. “Yet.”

Almost a hour later they had skeletons (humanoids, animals and dragons), three different kinds of spiderwebs, bloody handprints stencils for the doors, a bloodstained mat for the bathtub and many other things. They went back to the car with a heavy cart and a lighter wallet.

The third stop was at the supermarket.

“Are we getting something for lunch?” Byleth was looking at everything with genuine curiosity. The brands and packagings were all very different from the ones she knew. It was something most people would have ignored, but she found it fascinating. She completely forgot about it the moment they reached the produce aisle though. “Pumpkins!” Her eyes were sparkling. “REAL pumpkins!”

They had been talking about carving pumpkins for months. To Byleth, that had never had a chance, it felt like such a nice family thing! She had always wanted to try, but her father wasn’t exactly the kind of guy who likes decorating and such. Everything he did was always for a reason, always had a purpose. The idea of carving pumpkins, attempt strange shapes and be silly together was extremely precious to her and...thrilling.

Edelgard loved seeing her like that, especially since Byleth herself had told her she had never felt like that before meeting her.

She looked at all her smiles and laughs like they were the rarest marvels she had ever admired. Her emotions were a gift to them both.

Byleth was still grinning when they reached the baking products and then moved to other isles. They wanted to make something nice and creepy together, like the funny Halloween party recipes you can find on YouTube. Byleth’s cooking skills didn’t get past a hamburger and noodles, so the ingredients and recipes’ choice was on Edelgard. She had considered many options and was determined to try a few. She wanted to impress her.

Byleth got distracted again by all the sweets and weird...”things” in the next section. Kids sure could get very colorful, strange stuff in their baskets there! There were candies in all shapes, colors and flavors. There were cookies that looked like smiling spiders and happy pumpkins, purple witch hats, green potions, black cats.

Byleth was amazed by how many brands produced something special just for Halloween. In her country she could find chocolate eggs for Easter, panettone and pandoro for Christmas, butnever so many crazy, different themed treats. It was so hard to choose! Luckily they could try many, since they were going to give most to the neighborhood kids on the 31st. At least that’s what she told herself, while Edelgard’s face grew more and more concerned after every trip from the shelves to their cart.

Bringing everything to the car at once was a challenge, but they did it, impressing a few passerbies. Byleth had never been so happy Edelgard had a SUV.

Lunch. Edelgard had projects for lunch too. Something fast, because it was already lunchtime, but fitting. You could only get pumpkin ice cream around Halloween and Byleth had to try it.

Dinner was a whole different thing. Edelgard had made sure they had all they needed to try some funny recipes. They made pumpkin-shaped pumpkin bread. It was a must, one of the first Halloween foods Edelgard had mentioned and one she liked a lot.

The second idea they decided to try was far less traditional and definitely unusual: Frankenstein sushi. They put rice, water and green food coloring in and, after around 30 minutes, they boiled it, then let it cool down a bit. They pressed it into squares around salmon and avocado, topping them with nori sheets as hair. They arranged carrots matchsticks on the sides to look like bolts. More nori, some black rice and truffle sauce made the trick to draw the faces. They had fun changing the expressions and shapes. Those little monsters looked so silly! When they were done, they put them in the fridge to keep them cold.

They decided to make spooky donuts too, as a treat. They had bought a lot of decorations just for those. Edelgard knew Byleth loved them and there were some crazy options there that weren’t available in her country. Once ready, they looked adorably creepy and colorful. Some were covered in orange glaze, with a chocolate spiderweb. Some even had spiders on them, made with a dough ball covered in dark chocolate, chocolate sticks stuck in it to make the legs and big round sugar eyes. Others were covered in white glaze, with red jelly forming veins, colorful candies as the iris and a drop of chocolate as the pupil. Some weren’t even shaped like donuts. Squared ones with green glaze and chocolate provided another version of Frankenstein’s head; pumpkin-shaped ones, with dark chocolate as the carving were a must. Too many to count. Byleth was staring at them with sparkling eyes.

“Do you want one?” Edelgard couldn’t help giggling. “Or dinner first?”

“We could have a reverse dinner.”

“A reverse dinner?”

”We start from the dessert.”

The weirdness of it made Edelgard smile. It was very Byleth. “You want one.” She couldn’t help laughing again and her girlfriend with her. Byleth took an azure one with small sugar pumpkins and bats on it, split it in halves. “I want to share one.”

“Sharing sounds perfect.” Sharing felt warm.

The evening was pleasantly cool, a bit foggy. Edelgard came out of the kitchen with two big knives in her hands and her best attempt at a creepy look on her face. To Byleth she actually looked cute, but the jolt of excitement made her completely forget about teasing. “Pumpkin carving!”

Edelgard handed her one of the knives and she admired the blade. For a moment that simple gesture betrayed her fighting training. She was more comfortable with that weapon than any common person was supposed to be.

A moment.

A moment later she was smiling and choosing a pumpkin from the bags. She studied it with far less ease. “I don’t know where to start.”

Edelgard moved her chair closer, her pumpkin next to Byleth’s on the table. “Honestly, I’m not that good at it, but I know the basics” She explained her and showed her what to do step by step. “First you cut off the crown.” She grabbed two large serving spoons and offered one to Byleth. “You scoop out the seeds and fibers, then the flesh. We can make something with those tomorrow, maybe roast the flesh and toast the seeds.” She drew the eyes, nose and mouth with a marker, then waited for Byleth to do the same. “Careful when you cut it off. You’ll need some strength. Keep your hands far enough from the blade.”

Byleth, the expert fighter, the blades collector, nodded. She loved Edelgard’s caring protectiveness.

Despite her words, Edelgard made a very good job with her pumpkin. Byleth was kinda proud of hers, especially as a first attempt. It was winking.

Once they were done carving, they inserted the candles and put the crown back in place. The cinnamon candles mixed wonderfully with the pumpkins’ natural flavor. They smelled delicious!

They stayed silent for little while, admiring the lights and shadows dancing inside their silly creations, sharing the intimacy. When Edelgard leant her head on her shoulder, Byleth started to gently stroke her hair; their jointed hands were resting on her lap. She could feel her body gradually relaxing, her breaths getting slower and deeper. There was no more tension in her when she was in her arms. She tenderly moved a strand of white hair from her face.

A perfect moment, followed by many others.

For their second almost-halloween night they decided to stick to the tradition. Byleth had never been as big of a horror movies expert as Edelgard was, so there were many she hadn’t seen yet. They both had looked forward watching some together and Byleth knew Edelgard also saw them as a very good excuse for cuddles. She gladly curled up in her arms, as close to her as she could, wrapped in her warmth. That was a night to stay up late, shiver together, then sleep cuddled close.

•~•~•~•

That was the day: Halloween.

It was around noon when she woke up, but it still felt too soon to leave the bed. Edelgard wanted to keep feeling Byleth on her, her hands holding her shirt, her breath on her skin…

She was higher than she was, a trained fighter and a badass, but she still felt such a strong protective instinct towards her…

She wanted to keep her warm.

She wanted to keep her safe.

She wanted to keep her.

Judging by the way she was clinging to her, Byleth agreed.

It took them one more hour of cuddles to finally decide to get up and make some tea. Byleth was extremely smug about eating the donuts they made with it; it was so evident Edelgard couldn’t help a giggle. There were so many things that were quite usual to her and so new to Byleth! And it wasn’t just about Halloween. It wasn’t only about the cultural differences either (some were evident, but there was more). It was like many normal things, family things especially, were completely unknown to her. Edelgard obviously knew why. As for her…she had had no idea how much she had missed those things until Byleth.

They decided to shower and get dressed right after breakfast. They wanted to go out before it got dark and crowded. Edelgard had had the idea the day before. What better place for a King and his knight to spend some time together than solitary woods? There was a trail near her home that they could walk together and she knew places to stop and rest where no one would have bothered them.

Wearing the costumes home was definitely easier than doing that at the store. Byleth wrapped the long, red cloak around Edelgard’s shoulders with a a grin and an admired sound. “It suits you, my Emperor.” Edelgard fumbled helping Byleth with her armor. “It’s a king costume...don’t make it bigger than it is. It’s not... I’m not...”

A giggle.

The Emperor sighed. “I don’t seem to remember many knights being so bold with their lords.”

“Bold?” Something strange in her voice.

“Yes, bol-” Byleth’s lips on hers ended any complaint.

“Is this bold enough?”

“I...advise you to stop if you still plan to go out.”

Her face was so red Byleth almost giggled again, but the way Edelgard’s eyes were staring intently at her made her hold her breath instead. “I plan to come back soon. Or...” a long pause. “...how remote are those woods?”

The pauldron fell from Edelgard’s hands with a loud thud.

Most people go to parties on Halloween night, but neither of them was particularly fond of crowded places and loud music. The only thing they wanted was for that day to be theirs.

They wanted to read horror stories together, maybe try some creepy game. They wanted to hide spooky surprises for each other in the house or share some curiosities cuddled close on the couch.

Byleth didn’t know much about the origin of the festivity. She had heard of kids going out dressed as spirits so the real ones wouldn’t have been able to tell them apart and kidnap them, of people making offerings to such spirits to keep them away from their homes, to keep them friendly. She knew there were many legends, both local and well known in all the States, like Jack-O’-Lantern playing his tricks on the Devil and ending up a wondering soul.

Her knowledge though didn’t go past that. Edelgard was the expert and, luckily for Byleth, more than willing to share her knowledge.

“How do you know so many things?”

“Research, I suppose. You know I like creepy facts, folklore and peculiar traditions. Halloween is a mix of that all.”

“I’m impressed.”

“By my ramblings?”

“That’s not the word I would have chosen...”

An awkward laugh. “Maybe I wanted to impress you... Just a little bit.”

Byleth poked her. “Maybe.”

#RedInk #Edeleth #Edelgard #Byleth #FE3H #Halloween story for my love

48 notes · View notes

snowdice · 5 years ago

Text

Finding the Time to Study Fic 2 [Day 18]

Here is my starting post for today’s study break stories session. See this post for more details and feel free to send me asks to keep me going! It’s been a lot of fun so far! I will reblog this post with the story as I write them today. I’ll be constantly looking for ideas of times and places for Janus to have missions, so feel free to send in any you can think of at any point!

If you are a new follower or just don’t want all of these posts clogging your dash, please feel free to block the tag “study break stories” as all posts and voting about it will go there. You can still see the finished product of the story even if you are blocking that tag as I will not tag the edited chapters with “study break stories” but with the tag “folds in paper.” See edited chapters below. Chapters 3-8 and what I have of Chapter 9 are under the cut.

My Masterpost Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

I also have a playlist on youtube (because Spotify didn’t have one of the songs I wanted). It’s short, and not really for serious listening, but I had fun with it.

I have homework due tomorrow, so let’s go.

Arc I: Finding Cinderella

Chapter 4

Janus was frozen in surprise for a few long moments after Pat disappeared. Which had been, admittedly, his mistake, because, while their window had technically been until 11:17pm and it was only 11:10, the loud crack that whatever Pat had been using for time travel made, garnered the attention of someone else.

“Uh oh,” Remus said, likely hearing footsteps. “Hide.”

That snapped Janus into action, but instead of hiding immediately like a sensible human being, he chose to go for the only link to the man who’d just stolen time travel tech and waltzed away, the mask.

Which was why he ended up getting arrested.

Remy tsked the moment they were all alone in the police car having come to ‘transfer Lee to another facility.’ Remus was already waiting in the front seat, and flashed Janus a smug smile. If Janus wasn’t still handcuffed, he’d slap him.

“Well,” Remy said. “At least you didn’t shoot anybody like I asked. I was joking by the way. I didn’t really want to pick you up from a 1920s police station period.”

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“Mmm, nah, ‘cause Remus managed to not get arrested this time, so you defiantly screwed something up.”

“Oh, he defiantly wanted to screw something all right,” Remus said joyfully.

“Remus,” Janus hissed.

“What?” he asked. “I’m not the horny one for once. Well, no, that’s a lie, but it didn’t affect the job this time.”

Janus groaned and leaned his head back against the seat.

Remy pulled into a seemingly random garage around 20 minutes later. “Alright,” he said. “Here we are.” He got out of the car and then helped Janus out before uncuffing him. “Here’s your ‘watch,’” Remy handed him the timepiece that had been confiscated when he’d been arrested.

Janus put it on and activated it. “Shit,” he said.

“What?” Remus asked.

“An appointment with cultural outreach has already been downloaded to my calendar for once we get out of decon.”

“Oof. Going to baby jail,” Remy laughed. Remus was cackling.

“This,” Janus said, “was not a cultural faux pas. I did nothing that indicated that I was not from this time. I am not some rookie.”

“Don’t forget cell phones don’t exist in the 1920s,” Remus sang.

“The real question is whether or not my foot exists in your…” Remus disappeared before he could finish, a smirk on his face. Janus growled. “By Remy,” he gritted out. He selected the decontamination chamber from his queue, ignoring the appointment that came after it for now.

He knew exactly where Remus would be standing when he landed, which was why he stepped forward on reentry to ram into him.

He yelped in surprise. “Sorry,” Janus said pleasantly. “I must have also forgotten landing procedures.

Remus laughed good naturally. “Aw, come on Jay,” he said, bumping Janus back, albeit much gentler than Janus had been. “It’s not a big deal. You just go talk with some crusty old college professor who is far too interested in spoons and then everything’s fine.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” he growled. “They’re treating me like I’m an idiot who accidently invented disco in the 1920s when I was conned by some free agent time traveler.”

“‘Conned,’ Remus said. Is that what they’re calling it now?”

“I know where and when you live Remus,” Janus said.

Remus gave him a dopey smile as the decontamination cycle finished and the door unlocked. Janus’s wrist buzzed telling him that the coordinates to the cultural outreach office were now unlocked. Instead of pulling them up, Janus walked to the door.

“Um,” Remus said, following him. “Aren’t you supposed to be going to your appointment?” Janus just kept walking towards their office. “Uh… Jan?”

“It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to go to cultural outreach,” Janus said. “In fact, no one can make me. If they want me to go have a discussion about the definition of ‘bushwa,’ they’re going to have to have me dragged there.”

“Mmm, I feel like The Boss won’t be too happy about that, and I have a feeling she’d be 100% down to dragging you there herself.”

“Well, then, let her,” Janus said, stalking through the door to his office. “I’m not going to…”

“Ah, Agent Picani,” the woman standing next to his desk, clearly waiting for him, said when he came through the door. “Dr. Picani was informed that there were complications with your last mission and wishes to have a conversation with you and asks that you meet him in his office at the AMO.”

“Oh, um,” Janus said, stumbling a bit before plastering on a regretful half smile. “Unfortunately, I actually have an appointment right now at Cultural Outreach. It’s mandatory and very important, and I have to go now. So, I’ll have to take a raincheck on that.”

“But-” she started, frowning.

“Remus, work on the report!” Janus said quickly as he waved his hand to bring up his timepiece display and jammed his finger at the glowing appointment card in his queue. A few moments later, Janus was at Cultural Outreach.

Cultural Outreach was not part of the TPI, though it often worked very closely with them. It was a collaboration between the government and multiple universities to help government workers, politicians, and other citizens understand and bridge cultural gaps. It had existed before time travel was invented but had expanded to also teach people who needed to time travel how to behave in unfamiliar times and cultures.

After it had to be expanded to provide for the TPI, it had been moved to Silver Mountains University. The building had once just been a museum, but it had been thoroughly renovated and there had been add-ons for office space and some classrooms. It was still a museum, however, its purpose had expanded greatly and there were many areas that were off limits to the general public.

One of these areas was the fourth floor, where Janus’s timepiece had dumped him. This was the floor that was almost exclusively for TPI agents and staff of Cultural Outreach who worked with them.

He immediately turned away from the reception area, hoping that he could escape and go sit on the university’s quad or something of the like for the next hour or so in hopes the woman his brother sent to fetch him would give up and go back to the AMO. Yet, the receptionist apparently saw him.

“Janus Picani?” he asked.

Janus grimaced and turned back towards him. “Yes,” he said.

“Is something wrong?” he asked. “You’re 5 minutes late for your appointment and seem disoriented.

“Nothing’s wrong.”

“Is your timepiece malfunctioning?”

“No.”

“Uh… okay. Well, if you sign in here, I can take you to your appointment.”

“…Fine.”

He begrudgingly stepped forward and touched the screen he’d gestured to sign with his fingerprint, and then let the man lead him down the hall.

The door they stopped at was propped open slightly, but he still paused and knocked. “Professor Eran? Your 2:30 is here.”

Janus had just a moment upon hearing the name to think that maybe there was actually some sort of intelligent design of the universe and whatever being of ultimate power had crafted it was a dick.

The door opened and Virgil Eran’s eyes immediately narrowed on him. “Janus.”

“Virgil.”

“I see you’re still late for everything.”

“I see you’re still a bastard.”

Janus saw the receptionist slowly back away in the direction they’d come.

“Why don’t you come in?” Virgil said faux pleasantly.

Janus did, because he really didn’t have much of a choice at this point unless he wanted to jump out of a window… or push someone out of a window.

Virgil turned back into his office and took a seat behind his desk. Janus unhappily followed him in and sat across from him.

He took his time pulling up whatever the TPI sent him and reading it over. “So, I see you failed your recovery mission and were arrested in 1923.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Janus said. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Virgil gave him that same suspicious look he used to give Janus whenever Janus claimed to have not eaten his hot pockets out of the freezer in the middle of the night. He’d only been lying 80% of the time. Virgil had a tendency to forget what he’d eaten in a half-conscious state at 3 o’clock in the morning.

“I shouldn’t,” Janus snapped defensively. “Nothing went wrong with anyone from the time period. An illegal time traveler screwed up the mission details.”

“Well, it is still protocol to make sure nothing slipped when agents go off script. You weren’t prepared to be in a jail cell, and it is possible that you screwed something up.”

“I didn’t screw anything up,” Janus growled.

“Alright,” Virgil said pulling up a document on his desk. “The mission started on July 27th, 1923 at 9:58pm, correct?”

“Oh, god, we’re not really going to fill out a time sheet. I don’t have time for that today.”

“It is protocol and best that the information is documented when it is still fresh in your mind. Besides, your schedule has been cleared for the rest of the workday.” The bastard was enjoying this. He knew how much Janus hated this stuff.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Janus said, “it was the damned illicit time traveler.”

“And I will be the judge of that,” Virgil said. Janus should have just bit the bullet and had coffee with his brother. “If you truly did nothing wrong, your supervisor will see that when I send this to her.”

Yet, despite the fact that Virgil clearly relished in his suffering, he was charitable enough to do most of the actual filling out of the forms. He’d read out the questions and write down what Janus said instead of making him do it himself. Janus really only had to do a quick quality check and sign it at the end.

He still was an asshole about the details, but really he’d been like that about stupid thing like the settings for the dish washer and how the pantry was organized during their college days before they’d had their falling out, so Janus wasn’t particularly surprised. When they were finally done, Virgil sent it off to get filed by the TPI.

Then, they were left staring at each other with nothing between them but almost a decade of radio silence and a whole lot of awkwardness.

“I should go,” Janus finally said, standing up.

Virgil tilted his head slightly to the side and gave him a half smile. “Don’t lock the door behind you,” he said. “Not that I’d expect you too.”

Janus took it for the clear attempt at a joke it was intended to be and puffed out a breath of amusement with a head shake. “No risk of that,” he said. Then, he turned and walked out of the office.

Chapter 5

Janus stepped back into the reception area and booted up his time piece. Instinct said to go back to the office despite the fact that it was late enough that most people had gone home, but he hesitated. Surely Emile had given up by now, but considering he’d sent someone to ambush him in his office, Janus wasn’t sure if he should trust that. He could just go home, but he already knew his mind was racing too much to sleep tonight so he’d probably just end up staring at the lake for the next 6 hours. So, he decided on the only other legitimate option he had. He pulled up Remus’s home coordinates and selected.

The home that Remus had chosen (after his long line of rejected requests) managed to somehow make no and absolute sense simultaneously to anyone who knew him. It was a small farm in the United States just west of the Mississippi in 1842 in what would be ratified as the state of Iowa in a few years. When asked why he would choose that time and place, Remus always responded with “I thought it was funny,” whatever that meant.

Unlike most time agents who simply used the identities assigned to them by the AMO as a cover, Remus actually lived his part time.

Janus was… fairly certain he was cheating a bit to get everything done, but he maintained his small farm all on his own, growing most of his own food. The neighbors he had lived very far away, but he still spoke with them far more than Janus did his own.

Janus appeared inside the small home, his eyes already shut. “Are you hear and dressed?” Janus called. Something bumped lightly into his legs.

“I’m in the kitchen!”

Janus peaked his eyes open and squatted to pet the cat at his feet. “That doesn’t answer my question!” he called back to Remus.

“It’s a surprise!” Remus said.

“Remus.” Diesel Fuel the cat flopped to her side on the ground as Janus continued to pet her ears. He heard Remus’s footsteps, and saw cloth covering his legs, so risked looking up. He was currently not only dressed, but wearing an apron that Janus was fairly sure was not time appropriate judging by the fabric and cat pawprint design. He had a bit of flour on his hands, and it may have been a bit too white for the time and place, but Janus couldn’t be completely sure.

“What’re you doing here?” Remus asked.

“My day has been an endless series of frustrations,” Janus said. “So, I have come to see the only tolerable being in the history of the universe.”

Remus snorted. “Since I know that isn’t me, I’ll assume you’re talking about the cat.”

“I still don’t understand why you tolerate this creature,” Janus addressed Diesel Fuel. She blinked slowly up at him. “To be fair, he was assigned as my partner. I didn’t have much of a choice in it. You could go always run away and become feral in the woods if you’d like.”

“So could you, technically,” Remus pointed out.

“I’m thinking about it after today.”

“Would you like some bread?” Remus asked. “That’s all I’ve been making this afternoon. Some fresh should be coming out of the oven in a few minutes.”

“Do you have anything stronger made out of wheat?”

“Ew, no, but I do have vodka.”

“Vodka works.”

“Want me to mix it with something?”

“No.”

“One of those night then,” Remus said, easily. “Let me finish up the bread, so I don’t burn the kitchen down. You can go get the alcohol from the cellar while you wait if you want, or you can just flop down on the couch.”

He was going to just flop down on the couch.

He did just that as Remus disappeared back into his kitchen. The cat hopped onto his stomach, proceeding to purr loudly and kneed at chest. Janus petted the cat and listened to the noise of Remus moving around in the other room, letting his mind drift. His mind drifted to Virgil for a bit and he steadfastly did not allow it to drift to his brother. Yet, the thing that most was on his mind was the strange man who had flirted and charmed Janus all night before mercilessly screwing him over. ‘Pat’ he’d said his name was, but surely that was not his real name.

Janus sighed and scratched the cat’s ear. “He certainly wasn’t an amateur,” Janus mused to the cat. “With that amount of precision to get in before we did, he must have someone not on the ground feeding him information. Perhaps more than one.” He was part of a group of time traveling thieves perhaps or something worse. “I didn’t get a good look at his face since he was wearing a mask,” Janus said, “but I spent a lot of time with him, and I’m sure Remy swiped the mask from the police since it had been on me when I was arrested. It’s a good lead.”

He continued to pet Diesel Fuel. Eventually, Remus came back in, noticed Janus hadn’t bothered to get the alcohol and went outside to the cellar. “I’m going to find him,” Janus told Diesel Fuel. “I’ll stop whatever it is he’s doing, and I’ll bring him in.” Diesel Fuel mewed her support, and Janus patted her on top of the head.

Remus came back in with the bottle of vodka and handed it to him without a word. He sat down on the couch near Janus’s feet and patted his lap so Diesel Fuel would come over to him and allow Janus to sit up.

The bastard waited until he was approximately 3 shots in (he didn’t have a shot glass and was just taking drinks from the bottle) to ask the questions Janus really didn’t want to answer. “Are you mad at Emile?” Remus asked.

Janus groaned, trying to wash out the bitter taste of shame and grief with the sharp sting of vodka. It didn’t work. “No,” he said to Remus.

“Then why have you been avoiding him?”

“Shit, I’m here because I didn’t want to think about it. Can’t we just not.”

“Don’t want to think about what?

“It’s none of your business, Remus.”

He could feel Remus frowning at him, but Janus stared resolutely ahead. At least, he did until a foot poked his face. He slapped it away, but it did the job of getting Janus to look at Remus.

“It is my business,” Remus said, foot still in the air. “I’m your partner and your friend.”

“If I’m your friend, you’ll drop it.”

“So, you’re not mad at Emile,” Remus continued, contemplatively. “Did you do something to him, then?” Janus bit his lip and looked away. “What?” Remus asked. Janus didn’t respond. “Look, I’m sure he’ll forgive you for whatever it is. He’s a good guy. Just talk to him about it.”

“I can’t,” Janus said.

“Whatever it is, it’s probably been long enough that he forgives you. You literally just have to have a conversation, say you’re sorry, and everything will be A-OK.”

“I can’t,” Janus repeated.

“Why not?”

“He doesn’t know about it.”

Remus paused. “So, as far as he knows, you just cut contact with him all of a sudden for no reason and have been avoiding him ever since?”

Janus looked at his shoes. “Yeah.”

“That…” Remus said, “is not fucking fair Janus.”

“I know.”

“Then why the hell are you doing that to him? He’s like… soft and feeling-y. He’s probably really upset.”

“I know, Remus.”

“Tell him. Whatever it is.”

“I can’t.”

“Look,” Remus said. “You tell him and he either forgives you or he doesn’t. If he does, everything’s fine. If he doesn’t… well, it’s not like it would be any different from you two never being in the same room the last few years. Either way, you can’t just do this to him. He’ll probably forgive you. He’s your brother. Brothers don’t… brothers would forgive each other.”

Janus laughed softly and met Remus’s eyes. “That’s the problem,” he said. “He’d definitely forgive me.” He turned away and opened the vodka bottle again. “Now, if you’ll shut up for a few minutes, I’m going to drink until I black out.”

Chapter 6

“Really, Khalid,” Janus said, storming into his boss’s office. “A yellow?” It had been about a week since the 1920s incident, and his incident report had finally been cleared. Sure, it wasn’t a red or a black and he wasn’t facing any reprimand, but it should have been a green.

She looked up at him, clearly unconcerned. “There was an incident,” she said. “You handled it well, but there was one. Therefore, yellow.”

“It wasn’t a time travel incident! It was a rouge time traveler.”

“Janus, you helped me make these rules,” she said impatiently.

“Which is why I know this is bullshit,” he snapped.

She rolled her eyes. “If it was anyone else, you would agree with me. While you didn’t go against protocol and had no time related incidents, the fact of the matter is, you were still distracted by this ‘rouge time traveler,’ didn’t complete your mission, and were arrested.”

“He was good,” Janus said. “You can’t fault me for that. He also could be dangerous and you’re busy handing out yellows instead of working to track him down.”

She raised an eyebrow. “We are working on tracking him down,” she said. “We have done an analysis on the mask and found fibers dating to the 2010s and some DNA. Though it isn’t exactly a high priority.”

“We have no idea who he is or what he’s planning to do. Why is that not a high priority thing?”

“At the moment?” she asked. “Because we have reports of a time bomb being activated.”

“What?” Janus asked sitting up. “When?”

“New Years Eve going into the year 3,000 in Brazil,” she said. “Which you’d know about if you’d bothered to check your integration port this morning before storming into my office.”

“It’s my mission?” Janus asked.

“The incident investigation is over and your active again despite the dreaded yellow,” she said, clearly making fun of him a bit. “So, yes, and it’s a high priority mission, so I’ll be running it.”

“Who all is going?” he asked.

“Other than the two of us, Remus, Lena, and Fred,” she told him. “We leave in three hours, so, you might want to run off to Rhi before Fred gets to her and ties her up for an hour on details.”

Janus nodded and got to his feet. He turned back at the door. “I still don’t deserve the yellow,” he hissed.

She waved him off. “I’ll see you in a few hours, Picani.”

He ground his teeth a bit about the dismissal of his worries, but his resentment was slightly soothed by the fact that she’d assigned him to go on such a high priority mission and with only senior agents.

He took the advice and grabbed Remus from the office, noting Lena hadn’t been able to wrangle Fred yet as she was still at her desk, and they both headed off to see Rhi.

A few hours later, they were all in decontamination together, decked out in truly god-awful costumes. The turn of the third millennia had been a wild event, and the best way to fit in was to look like you’d grabbed something from every century in recorded human history, dyed it in neon paint, and rolled around in a vat of glitter.

Remus had opted to stick his head in a vat of glow in the dark green paint that costuming had offered them, and it wasn’t even going to be slightly disruptive to their covertness.

In fact, costuming had frowned when Janus had insisted he not get his hair dyed and instead wore a bowler hat. They had required him to have flowers made out of glitter on it.

There were five people waiting for them when they landed 6 hours before the turn of the millennia. Three were touchdown agents, including Remy, and two were on location tech support. Usually it would be overkill to have that many people there just for support even with five agents in the field, but today the TPI needed to be cautious because they were planning on instituting a time lock.

Time bombs were dangerous things that would ripple through time if not contained. Even if it did end up going off (killing everyone in its reach), the time lock would serve to prevent most damage outside of the city and, more importantly, the year it was planted.

Janus had only been in two time locks before, and he was one of the most senior agents in the TPI, outranked only by the founder: Lia Khalid. Time locks were designed to keep all time linear in a certain fixed time and geographical area as well as prevent any time travel in and out. Once it was engaged, all forms of time travel would not work for the duration, bar the pin device. Khalid was already switching out her regular timepiece with the slightly bigger one that was designed to support the time lock.

There was a failsafe back at the TPI that could be engaged in an emergency, which was why tech support was here, but other than that, the only thing that could break the time lock was that timepiece, and it would break the moment the time lock ended.

As soon as it was on Khalid’s wrist, she looked up at them all. “Our information says the time bomb was planted in the costume of one of the ‘Millennium Birds’ who are the organizers of the different events,” she said. Janus had seen a photo of the identical costumes in the mission details. They were all robe like garments with giant fans of feathers coming from the neck that coalesced in a peak a foot above their head to hold a fake bird egg. At least they’d be easy to find. “There are 25 of them throughout the city. We need to find each of them. So, we don’t double count, you’ll need to subtly,” her eyes touched on Remus, “scan each one you find for the bomb and tag them with a tracker if it’s not on them. You can view the already tagged ones, as well as the rest of us on your timepiece even once the time lock is engaged. When you find the bomb, call it in.”

They all nodded, and Khalid looked over at one of the techies. She nodded at her and then the techie flipped a couple of switches. “Three, two, one,” the techie said. There was a slight shift in the air that most people would disregard, but Janus as a seasoned time traveler could feel the change even before his wrist buzzed. He glanced at his timepiece to see it had a big red ‘X’ across its display. He tapped it and was still able to bring up the map of the city with 10 green dots on it all clustered together in their current location.

After that, he tested the scanner on his timepiece that he would use to search for the bomb, just to make sure the time lock hadn’t messed anything up with his equipment. He glanced up to see everyone else was doing the same.

“Keep in contact,” Khalid said before everyone split up. Janus and Remus started by going North while Fredrick and Darlene were to go South. Khalid was a floater who would tag any Birds she saw but was mostly there for backup and orders.

Janus and Remus stepped into the chaos of New Years Eve before the turn of the third millennia. The streets were already swamped with people and it would only be getting worse the later it go.

“Where should we start?” Remus asked.

“Let’s go all the way North to the games area,” Janus said. “We can work our way back here.”

“Okay!” Remus said. “I wonder if they have those fun little genetically modified goldfish as prizes. I’ve always wanted to eat one and see if I end up getting whatever design was on the fish on my body.”

Janus gave him a disgusted look.

“What?! People eat fish all the time!”

Janus shook his head. “We’re not playing the games anyway. We have work to do. Important work.”

“Boo,” Remus replied. Janus chose to ignore him as he spotted one of the Millenia Birds letting people into the gaming area.

They walked over towards the entrance. Janus got in range first and moved to subtly scan the Millenia Bird, Remus doing the same the next moment. After a second, Janus’s timepiece buzzed and lit up red, meaning the bomb was within range. “Well, that was easy,” he said. “It was on the first one we found.”

“Uh…” Remus said. “Jan.” When Janus looked, he was holding up his wrist to show his green lit time piece.

“What?” Janus asked. He quickly moved to rescan the Millenia Bird, and his timepiece came up green as well. Which, meant the bomb was not in range, even though the Millenia Bird had not moved. “But…” He and Remus’s eyes met, and they quickly both started turning in a circle to look at the crowd around him. No one looked like they’d just stolen a time bomb off the Millennial Bird, but then Janus’s eyes caught on a man. He blended in perfectly to his surroundings. He was wearing the disgusting garb of the times, a large light blue piece that bubbled near his hips, and had most of his skin covered in rainbow neon paints. Yet, something about him, the curl of his hair or the way he moved, drew Janus’s eyes to him. He recognized the man immediately even in a completely different dressing style. Yet, what cinched it was the moment Janus’s eyes met his and they seemed to sparkle slightly in the afternoon sun. The next moment, the person Janus knew as Pat, turned to disappear into the crowd.

Chapter 7

“Him,” was the only thing Janus said before taking off after the figure who had just disappeared into the game area.

“What?” Remus’s voice followed after him. “Janus! What?!”

Janus did not pause, just continuing to run after Pat, hopping over two barricades as a shortcut. Janus cursed when he lost sight of the man for just a moment near the prize table filled with colorful goldfish, but he was able to spot him once again walking into one of the tents. Janus blasted into the tent. It was a game where they raced rats, and when Janus entered, Pat was cooing at one of them.

“Who’s a tiny little squishy precious baby?” he was asking one of them, wiggling his pointer finger at it.

“You,” Janus growled stepping up to him.

He turned and tilted his head at Janus with a frown. “Um, me?” he asked, pointing to his chest, all sorts of innocent, but Janus could see a spot of hidden amusement in his eyes.

“Where is it?”

His eyebrows drew together, but it was an act. It was clearly an act! “Where is what?”

“The…” he glanced around them at the people surrounding them. “Thing you just took.”

“I didn’t take anything,” Pat said with a frown.

“Oh, no,” Janus said. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fooling me twice is not an option.”

“I’m sorry sir,” Pat said. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bull. Shit.”

Just then, Remus jogged into the tent. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“It’s him,” Janus said pointing. “He took it. He has it.”

“I… don’t know what you’re talking about,” Patton said. He looked over to Remus with a confused frown.

Remus looked at Janus. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Janus said. “It’s him. It has to be him. He’s the mask guy.”

Remus squinted at Pat. “He is?”

“Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I haven’t worn a mask all night. I just did the face paint,” he pointed to his cheeks.

Remus raised his wrist and his timepiece lit up green. He looked at Janus.

“I lost sight of him for five seconds. He must have stashed it somewhere,” Janus said. He turned on Pat. “Where did you put it?”

“…Are you,” Pat asked, his eyes going back and forth between Janus and Remus, “… the police?”

“We are, actually,” Khalid said as she stepped into the tent. Remus must have called her. She inserted herself between Janus and Pat. “Agent Khalid,” she said, offering a hand with a smile. Pat looked at it in surprise and then smiled back hesitantly as he took it. “Apologizes, one of the big game prizes was stolen by someone matching your description. Would you mind coming down to security for questioning? Just to clear it up.”

“Oh,” Patton said, hesitant. Janus expected him to refuse outright, but then he said. “Uh, sure.”

“Thank you very much, Mr…”

“Jonas,” Pat told her earnestly. “Do I need to be handcuffed?”

“No,” Khalid said. Janus frowned at her, but she ignored him. “It’s just a talk for now.” She gestured to the tent entrance. “Come with us.”

He did without argument, and Remus and Janus followed behind the both of them. Khalid did not lead them back to the base, but to a little spot that said “security” near the center of the event. Remy was already there waiting for them at a desk.

“Remy, would you please take Mr. Jonas to go sit down?” she asked.

“Sure, boss,” Remy said, standing up. He led Pat away.

Khalid turned to Janus and Remus once they were out of earshot. “What is going on?”

“It’s the mask man,” Janus said, “the one from 1923, and my scanner said the time bomb was on the Millenia Bird outside the games entrance, but then it was gone the next second, and I saw him, and then he ran away.”

“So, does he have it on him?”

“No. I lost sight of him, and he must have stored it somewhere, but I know he took it.”

10264

“He’s the man from 1923?” she asked.

“Yes! Remus, that’s him, right? You recognize him.”

“Well,” Remus said thoughtfully. “He was in a mask, and it was dark in the room with the necklace. Other than that, I only really saw his back, and he was wearing pants. Mr. Jonas is wearing a dress, so I can’t really tell if their asses match.”

“Okay, but I was with him for hours. I swear it’s him, and I swear he took it,” Janus just about shouted.

“We’ll question him,” Khalid placated, “and Fred and Lena will keep looking in the meantime.”

“He knows where it is,” Janus insisted. “I swear.”

“Okay,” Khalid said, before leaving to follow where Remy and Pat had gone. She stopped Janus with a hand on his shoulder. “I think Remus and I will do the interrogation.” He opened his mouth to argue. “You know the most about him, so observe from the sidelines and see if he makes any mistakes that indicate you’re right.”

“That’s just to placate me and you know it.”

“Observation’s over there,” she said pointing.

He got a thumbs up from Remus as he walked by, and Janus glared at his back before walking off to the indicated location.

He watched as Remus and Khalid entered the room, and Remy left it. Remy joined him in the observation room after leaving and leaned against the wall.

Pat was sitting at a table and watched Remus and Khalid with that same rubbish placid confusion that he had before. “So,” Khalid said, “Mr. Jonas.”

“You can call me Nick,” Pat interrupted.

“Lia,” Khalid replied. He smiled at her happily. “So, are you enjoying your day?” she asked.

“I am!” he replied. “It’s a big day. You only get to see the turn of a millennia once in your life.”

“Ah, yes,” Khalid said. “Doing anything special for it?”

“Um, not really,” he said. “Other than the party. I’m going to meet up with my roommates after dinner. Kevin doesn’t like this sort of thing, and Joe couldn’t come.”

“Your roommates,” Khalid said, considering him. “Do you live around here?”

“Uh huh,” Pat replied.

“Do you have any ID?”

“I do, want me to get it?”

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Pat unzipped one of the bubbles on his waist and handed her a chip. “Remus, would you mind going out and getting the ID scanner?” she asked, even though her timepiece would be able to read it.

“Ah, shit,” Remy said. “Props. What do those things even look like?”

As Remy scrambled to find something that would pass for an ID reader so “Nick” didn’t get suspicious of Khalid using her timepiece, Janus watched the two alone in the room like a hawk.

“I see you’re wearing a dress inspired by the 2770s,” Khalid noted, as Remus came to stand next to him.

“Yeah!” Pat replied. “Joe made it for me. He’s really good at fashion design!”

“Can I see?” she asked.

With a happy smile, he reached over the table to let her get a look of the sleeves. Janus saw her subtly scan the fabric, probably to make sure it was from the 2990s and not actually from the 2770s. Considering she didn’t mention it, Janus assumed it checked out.

Remy came back with some sort of device then and handed it to Remus who saluted and wandered back into the interrogation room. Khalid pretended to scan the ID in her hand. She handed it back to him without comment. “So, you said you live with your roommates: Joe and Kevin?” she asked.

“Yep!” he replied. “We’re practically like brothers.”

“Would you mind calling them?”

“Erm,” he titled his head like he was confused by the question. “Well, like I said, Joe is a bit busy, but I could definitely call Kevin.

“Here,” Khalid said, “use my phone.”

“I have my own,” he said with a frown.

“Humor me,” she requested.

“Uh, okay,” Pat agreed. He took the offered 2999 phone and dialed a number on it. Khalid reached over to put it on speaker.

“Hello?” a voice asked after a few seconds.

“Um, hey Kevin, it’s Nick.”

There was a sigh on the other end. “Hello Nick, is something wrong? Why are you calling me from someone else’s phone?”

“I’m fine, I think.” He looked up at Khalid. “Why am I calling him exactly?”

“Hello, I’m Officer Khalid,” Khalid said. “I just wanted to confirm that you are Nick Jonas’s roommate, and he does live in Manaus.”

“Yes, we live together with our other roommate,” the man replied flippantly. “Officer? Is something wrong?”

“I believe there was just a case of mistaken identity,” Khalid said.

“Bullshit there was!” Janus hissed, though she could not hear him.

“No need to worry,” Khalid continued.

“I’m good Kevin,” Pat said.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Kevin asked.

“Don’t be Paranoid, Kevin. I’ll see you Tonight for the New Years Celebration. You know I Live to Party.”

“I am hanging up now,” Kevin said.

“No! Comeback.” The line went dead. Pat handed the device back to Khalid.

She took it and smiled at him. “Give us just a couple of minutes,” she requested. He nodded easily, and she and Remus exited the interrogation room. “I… think we’re done here,” Khalid said.

“No, he’s lying,” Janus insisted, and got a dubious look in return. “I know he is! Remus!”

“The alibi is pretty solid…” Remus said, “and he doesn’t have the bomb on him.”

“Oh, come on,” Janus said. “You can’t say there is nothing fishy going on here.”

Khalid and Remus shared a look. “Janus,” Khalid said. “I respect your intuition. It is usually very good, but you have been a bit intense about the man from the 1920s, and I think that may be blinding you a bit...”

“I am not imagining this!” Janus said. “That’s him and he took it.”

“You only met him once while he was wearing a mask,” Khalid pointed out with a frown, “and you didn’t see him take the bomb, did you?”

“No, but he looked at me and I knew,” Janus argued. They both gave him a skeptical look. “Oh, come on!”

“You know that’s a little weak, Jan,” Remus said.

“Let me talk to him,” Janus requested. “Just give me five minutes to talk with him.”

Khalid raised one eyebrow. “Fine,” she agreed. “You have five minutes, but after that, you have to let it go. We can’t waste any more time.”

Chapter 8

Pat looked up as Janus stepped into the interrogation room. “Hi,” he said with an innocent smile that could cut steal.

Janus didn’t say a word as he took a seat; he just watched him intently. He leaned slightly over the table and steepled his fingers in front of his chin. “So, your name is Nick this time?” Janus asked.

“Nicholas Jonas,” he said. “Always has been.”

“Stop it,” Janus said.

“Stop what?”

“Cut the crap. I know.”

Pat leaned forward, mirroring Janus as he leaned closer, interlocking his fingers and laying his chin on top of his knuckles. “What did you say your name was again?” he asked, pleasantly.

“Janus,” Janus replied.

“No, I’m Jonas,” he said, pointing to his chest.

“Not Jonas,” Janus spat. “Janus.”

“Um,” Pat said, eyes alight with amusement. The bastard. “Those are the same words.”

“No, they’re not. It’s Janus. J-A-N-U.-S.”

“Well, that’s confusing,” Pat said with a frown, but his nose was crinkling. “It’s close to my name. You should go by a nickname instead.”

“What?” Janus said. “No.”

Pat hummed. “How about Love Bug?”

“What! No!” Janus sputtered, almost flipping the table, as Pat winked at him.

“BB Good?”

“What does that even mean?!”

“Mandy.”

“No!”

“Okay, okay, how about Macy Misa.”

11594

Janus stared at him for a moment. “Fine. Whatever. What was I even talking about?”

“Hmm. I Believe we were talking about my name and how you think it’s not my name.”

“Right,” Janus said. “So, Nick. That was your roommate, Kevin on the phone, right? He seemed a bit unhappy with you. Any reason?”

“Nah, we’re Cool” said Pat. “That’s Just the Way We Roll.”

“Not because you’re messing up a mission right now?”

Pat’s eyes crinkled together. “A mission?” he parroted. “I’m not messing up a mission.”

“Oh, really?” Janus growled. “Because you’ve been captured by the TPI, and I know who you are and what you’ve been doing.”

“I have no idea what the TPI is,” he claimed.

“Yes, you do!” Janus said, standing up. “You obviously do! Or you wouldn’t be playing this game!”

“Game?” Pat asked. “Macy I ask you what you’re talking about.”

“This is all just a game to you isn’t it!” Janus said, slamming his hands down on the table in front of them.

“Whoa,” Pat said, putting his hands up. “Calm down. Your face is getting all red. You must be Burnin’ Up.”

“I’m not sure what, but something about what you just said pisses me off.”

“And that is five minutes,” Khalid said, bursting into the room. He felt a tug on the back of his shirt and glared back at Remus who was putting his own body between Janus and Pat.

“There was no way that was five minutes,” Janus growled.

“It was five minutes,” Khalid gritted out. “Remus, get him out of here.”

“Come on Jay,” Remus said, dragging him back towards the door.

“Remus, I swear to god.”

“Just chill, Janus,” Remus said, slamming the door closed behind them.

Janus shrugged him off. “You chill!” he snapped. “He’s playing you all for the fool.”

“Wow, Macy,” Remy drawled like an asshole. “I’ve never seen you so fired up.”

“Oh, my gosh. No one is going to believe me, and he’s going to get away with this.”

“You’re not really helping your case, babe,” Remy said.

Remus grabbed him by the shoulders again. “Here, let’s go get some water.”

“I don’t want water,” he said even as he let Remus lead him to another room to get a glass of water.

“Look,” Remus said. “I know the Mask Guy thing really sucked, but you have to look at the facts.

“I am looking at the facts,” Janus insisted, “and the facts are, he’s fucking with me.”

“You don’t know what mask guy looks like,” Remus said. “You didn’t see Nick take the time bomb, he has an ID from this time period and a roommate in this time he called on the phone, and he legitimately seems to not know what any of us are talking about.”

“Did you even listen to our conversation?” Janus asked. “He was screwing with me the entire time!”

“Janus…” Remus said.

“What?” Janus said, narrowing his eyes at Remus’s tone.

“I know you recently had a bad experience, but not everyone who flirts with you is doing it out of evil.”

Janus’s mouth hung open for a few seconds. “That’s what you got out of our conversation?”

“He called you Love Bug.”

Janus felt his face heat a bit at the reminder. “That’s not… I. I’m stealing your cat and then never speaking to you again.”

Remus laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Young lust.”

Janus elbowed him roughly in the side. “No!”

“Yes!” he crooned, pleased.

“You are the worst partner,” Janus hissed. “When I’m right you owe me 10 loafs of your fresh bread.”

“Branching out from poptarts?” Remus asked.

Janus shook his head. He still wasn’t happy about the state of things, but he could feel himself cooling down a bit.

Khalid came out of the integration room after a few minutes, leaving Pat with Remy. “What was that?” she asked him.

“He got under my skin,” Janus said.

“We’ll talk about it later,” she said. “For now, we’re letting him go and then going back to looking for the bomb like we’re meant to be.”

“Fine,” Janus relented. “Just do me the favor of tagging him before he leaves. Just that. I beg of you.”

“Sure,” she agreed. “If it will calm you down.”

He nodded.

“Then, let’s go,” she said. When they met back up with Remy and Pat, he saw Khalid make the subtle gesture that would tag Pat like they would have for the Millennium Birds. Pat sent him what could pass as a sweet smile if Janus didn’t know better. Then, they walked him outside, leaving Remy on clean-up duty for the make-shift security office.

“So, I’m free to go?” Pat asked. His bemused expression edged far too much on the side of amused verses confused for Janus’s taste.

“You are,” Khalid said. “Have fun at the festivities.”

His hands went flapping about. “Oh, you too!” he said. “Well, I guess you’re working, but you can have fun anyway, I’m sure.”

“We’ll do our best,” she said.

He gave her a blinding smile and reached forward to shake her hand enthusiastically. Janus rolled his eyes and looked up at the heavens. “It was nice to meet you!” he said, “and you too, Remus!” He turned to meet Janus’s eyes. “Macy Misa.”

Janus pressed his lips together.

Then, Pat turned and walked away.

“Well, now that we’re done with that,” Khalid said, turning to them. “We have only a few more hours before midnight and we really need to find the time bomb.

“Oh,” Pat called. He’d paused a few yards away and turned back to them. “Thanks for letting me go so easily by the way,” he said, “and just in the Nick,” he winked, “of time too.” Janus narrowed his eyes at him. He smiled back. “Wrist check,” he said holding up his arm to show off the timepiece there. Khalid immediately looked down at her own wrist just to see that the one timepiece that could move through the time lock was no longer there. Pat made a gesture and disappeared.

All three of them stared at the spot he’d been for a long moment.

Janus was the one to speak first. “I want. The yellow. To be erased. From my record.”

Chapter 9

Khalid immediately called everyone back to base.

“What happened?” asked Fred when he and Lena arrived. The tech people were already scrambling to get through to the TPI and get the time lock broken from the outside.

“Remus, Remy, and Khalid got played by Pat or whatever his name is. It certainly isn’t Nick. He was just setting up a joke,” Janus told him.

“Stop being smug,” Remy said. “It’s not a good look for you.”

“Pat is…?” Lena asked.

“They guy who fucked me over in 1923,” Janus said, “and is currently in the middle of fucking us all over because he stole the pin timepiece, and by extrapolation, probably the time bomb too.”

“It will be fine,” said Khalid, “because what he doesn’t know is that timepiece has a tracker on it. Wherever and whenever he went, we’ll have his coordinates.”

“Speaking of,” one of the techies said. “It’s about to break. You might want to hold onto something.” Janus grabbed for a support beam next to him as the techie put a device on the ground in the center of the base. It blinked once, twice, and on the third blink the ground rumbled. There were sounds of panicked yelps outside. The fail safe for the time lock was not nearly as gentle as ending it correctly.

Everything settled after a few moments, and they all straightened themselves out. Janus’s timepiece buzzed to indicate it was now functioning normally. Khalid had returned her usual timepiece to her wrist and now used it to open a display they could all see. “The pin timepiece’s closest time/space coordinates are…” she trailed off. “Right outside?” She frowned. “That’s strange. Why would he still be here?” She turned to march outside, following the coordinates to a trash can. She pulled the pin timepiece out and stared at it. “Fuck,” she said.

“What just happened?” Remy asked.

“He ticked us,” Janus said. “Again.”

“He was stuck in the time lock,” Khalid said. “That’s why he got our attention. He couldn’t leave with the time bomb unless he had the pin timepiece or we broke the time lock. Apparently, he’s smart enough to know that if he took the pin timepiece away from here, we’d probably be able to find him, but he knew we’d break the lock as soon as the pin went missing. So, he must have stashed his own timepiece and went back in time within the time lock to grab it while we were distracted with the past version of him. As soon as the time lock went down, I imagine he left.”

“Probably with the time bomb,” Janus said.

“Probably with the time bomb,” she confirmed.

And everyone knew the only thing worse than a time bomb was a time bomb you didn’t know the location of.

They evacuated after that, of course, and time locked the location once they were out just in case they were wrong, but midnight 3000 struck without thousands of people dying in Brazil, so the time bomb had defiantly been removed from then.

The, they initiated a time travel lockdown for all nonessentials, not willing to let random history students get caught up in an explosion if Pat decided to set the thing off somewhere.

Then, it was a matter of figuring out everything they could about ‘Pat.’ First, they checked the tracker data as Khalid had tagged him with one of the Millennium Bird trackers. It wouldn’t work outside of the zone they’d set up that day, but the record would show his behavior during the time lock after he’d escaped with the pin timepiece.

There had been many little green dots on the map that day as Fred and Lena had actually been doing the job they’d set out to do, but most of those were running around in the south. There had been one green dot, however, that appeared suddenly in the game area about 10 minutes before the time bomb had been stolen.

They could see Janus’s yellow dot almost brush his when he’d been chasing the earlier Pat down, around when he’d lost him briefly. The earlier Pat must have all but handed it off to his future self.

“He doubled back,” Remus commented when they watched the recorded data. It was a ballsy move and one that most people balked at, because there were inherent dangers any time you interacted with yourself from a different point in the timestream. It was ripe for paradoxes. It made everyone at the agency even more worried, because if he was willing to risk that, then what else was he willing to do?

Because of the lockdown of all nonessential time travel, people working for the TPI were not allowed to go home for the night. They were allowed to pick up anyone or anything dependent on them for care like kids and pets if there wasn’t someone in their home time to care for them, but other than that, they were unfortunately all sleeping in their offices for the foreseeable future.

“You are the only tolerable one,” Janus told the cat who upon being let loose in the office by Remus, immediately jumped on Janus’s lap.

“I have literally done nothing to you,” Lena said, but then added. “Yet.”

“You exist. In my space.”

“Can’t we just all get along?” asked Fred. “It’s only been an hour past when we’d usually go home. I went and grabbed milk and I have my giant thing of different flavored hot chocolate under my desk. We can try them all and vote on which is better.”

“Fuck your hot chocolate, Fred,” Janus growled, having been one of the three who had chipped in to buy it for him on his last birthday.

“Don’t go after Fred, jackass,” Lena spat.

“He’s just testy because his boyfriend escaped,” Remus contributed.

Janus’s lips turned down into a frown and he cupped Diesel Fuel’s face. “We agree we’re eating him first, right?” he asked her.

She purred her agreement.

“I’d have it no other way,” Remus replied.

“There is plenty of food,” Fred said, sounding stressed. “In fact, I was thinking we should all chip in on ordering take-out soon. “What does everyone like on pizza?”

“This is not a slumber party, Fred,” Janus pointed out.

“Shut it,” Lena snapped and turned to Fred. “I’m fine with almost everything, except…”

“Bananas and tuna salad!” Remus interrupted.

“…whatever Remus is about to say.”

Janus rolled his eyes as that started a debate about whether or not fruit and/or fish belonged on pizza. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, which was when there was a knock on the door.

He froze when he heard the familiar voice. “Hello, hello,” said Emile, cheerfully. Janus looked up to see Emile standing at the open office door. Shit. Apparently, the man had decided to give up on sending lackeys to come fetch him and had decided to track him down himself when Janus couldn’t even escape without breaking a time lockdown. They met eyes briefly and Janus could see irritation if not anger in his eyes despite his otherwise cheerful expression and tone.

“Janus,” he said when he’d gotten their attention. “I’d like to have dinner with you.” The word choice told Janus everything he needed to know. Usually Emile was careful with how he said things to make sure people knew they had a choice. Typically he’d say something like, “I was wondering if you’d have time to have dinner with me tonight,” or “I’m about to go get food, would you like to come?” Today, there was no choice in the statement.

Janus still dried to dodge anyway. “Uh,” he said. “We were actually about to order pizza.”

“Go ahead,” said Fred kindly. Janus wanted to strangle him. “We can order pizza with olives if you’re not here.”

“I…” said Janus. “Guess, I’ll be going with you.”

“Great!” Emile said. “Let’s go.”

“Oh,” Janus said. “Uh, now?”

“Now,” Emile said a bit of uncharacteristic steel to his tone.

Well, Janus was screwed. He swallowed his nervousness and got to his feet, taking Diesel Fuel with him. He turned to hand her off to Remus with a plea in his eye, but he just got an eyebrow raise in return. Traitor.

Then, he followed Emile out of the office door. “What would you like to eat?” asked Emile.

“Uh,” Janus said. “I don’t know. You asked me to eat, don’t you have any ideas?”

“I don’t actually,” Emile replied. Right.

“…Noddle Bar?” Janus threw out the nearest restaurant he knew.

“The one noodle restaurant? Sure,” Emile answered simply. They walked side by side out of the front doors of the TPI building. Janus actually couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken these stairs. He usually used his timepiece to get in and out.

The noodle bar was only moderately busy at this time. They were quickly able to find a table near the back and Emile pulled his menu up in front of him. Emile hummed as he flipped through the different displays. “What are you having?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Janus said, only then pulling up the menu himself, but still not quite looking at it.

“What about the fortune noodles,” Emile suggested.

Janus shook his head. “I don’t like those,” he said.

Emile glanced at him through the menu displays. “You used to.” Fortune noodles were a bit cheekily named. They didn’t actually indicate anything about your future. They were just supposed to taste like what you wanted from your future. A grad student might experience a feeling like they’d just aced a paper. A child that they got to stay up an hour later that night. Janus had liked the experience when he was younger, but in recent years, he’d begun to taste the underlying chemicals in the dish until that’s all he could.

“Well,” Emile said lightly, eyes on his menu. “That makes me even more worried for your mental health than I already was because of the almost three years of you avoiding talking to me.”

“No small talk, huh?” Janus asked.

“Forgive me,” Emile said, eyes now focused on Janus, and tone much darker. “How has your life been since I last saw your face 5 months ago during a business meeting and you refused to look me in the eye? Anything interesting happen? Shave your head and let it all regrow? Develop an allergy to peanuts? Join a convent and take an oath of silence that you only just broke today?”

“No,” said Janus quietly into the table.

“Great,” Emile said clipped. “Small talk over. Order your food.” Janus reached up blindly to select the first thing that came up on the food and drink menu as Emile punched something into his own and both menu displays disappeared, meaning there was nothing between their faces anymore. “You know, I was willing to give you a year,” Emile said. “I was willing to let you deal with it on your own because I thought eventually, you’d come talk to me about it, but apparently I was mistaken. The next year, I thought maybe you thought I didn’t want to talk to you, so I subtly made myself available, and you never took me up on the offer. I thought maybe I was just not being clear, and I should make my desire to talk to you more explicit, but as you have been routinely, clearly avoiding me at every single turn, I’ve decided I’ve had enough. So, let’s lay it all on the table. Is it me or do you need help?”

Janus closed his eyes. “It’s not you.”

“Then you need help,” Emile concluded.

Janus shook his head.

“Yes,” Emile snapped. “Whatever this is has gone on far too long.”

Janus stood up and slammed his hand down on the table. “And it’s going to keep going on!” he said. The food popped up at that moment. It appeared Janus had ordered lasagna and bubble tea, and Emile had ordered something with spaghetti and a fizzy drink.

“So, you’re just planning to go on being miserable then?” Emile asked, and Janus wasn’t sure if it was worse or better that he didn’t sound angry anymore.

14656

Janus slapped his hand down on the “To Go” button and his dinner was insta-wrapped by the table. “Yes,” he said.

“What exactly do you think you’re paying penance for, Janus?” Emile asked.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Janus said, paying for both of their meals with his fingerprint.

“That’s a cop out and you know it,” Emile said. “All you’d have to do is talk to me. Or even just talk to someone else. Please.”

“Just…” Janus said, grabbing his bag of food to avoid looking at him. “Just, leave me be.” He walked out of the noodle shop without another word.

Chapter 10

“And I thought Remus was going to be the most disgusting roommate in this equation,” Lena grumbled. Janus and Lena were apparently the earlier risers in the group as Fred was still curled up around a pillow and Remus was sprawled out under his desk.

Janus flipped her off.

“Protein infused Poptarts and caffeinated orange juice for breakfast?” she asked. “Just eat an energy bar and have a cup of coffee like a normal person.”

He took another pointed bite of his Poptart.

“You’re a horrible roommate. This is why they gave us different partners.”

“Yeah, well you snore, asshole,” Janus said after finishing off his meal.

“I’d tell you to go eat shit, but you already did that once this morning.”

A pillow flew across the room and somehow managed to hit the both of them. “S’op fighting,” Fred mumbled. “It’s sleep time.”

“It’s morning Fred,” Lena said.

“No,” Fred mumbled.

Janus ignored them, turning back to his integration port to continue to keep plugging in phrases of interest, but he kept getting nothing.

“What are you doing?” Lena asked after a few moments of him huffing at his screen reader.

“Trying to do anything that may change our current living arrangements.”

She puffed out an amused breath. “Can I help?”

“Can you see any connection between these words and phrases?” he asked, pulling away his screen reader and tapping at the words he’d typed out.

“Paranoid, tonight, I live to party, comeback, love Bug, BB good, Mandy, Macy Misa, I believe, cool, that’s just the way we roll, burnin’ up,” she said. “What are these?”

“They’re things Pat said when we interrogated that struck me funny,” Janus explained. “I feel like he was saying something more than what he said.”

“Hmm,” she said. “PTI for the first three?”

“Maybe,” Janus agreed, “but what about the rest of it? I feel like I’m missing something.”

15080

“Millennia,” Remus mumbled from under his desk. Janus hadn’t been aware he was awake. “He said something something about it being the only time he could see the change of the millennia.” He turned his head to look at Janus. “Considering he’s a time traveler, that’s definitely a weird thing to say.”

“Millennia,” Janus contemplated. “A different turn of the millennia. Oh no.”

“What?” Lena asked.

Janus sighed, and rubbed his temple. “I know someone who studied the 1700-2200s.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“No,” Janus groaned, “because now I have to go talk to him.” He stood with a sigh and then paused. “How do I even get to Silver Mountains University without my timepiece?”

#study break stories #not writing

47 notes · View notes

lonelypond · 5 years ago

Text

Soldier Game: Operation LA Smile, Ch. 3

NicoMaki, Love Live, 4K, 3/?

Nico shouldn’t be nervous. It was her party. Her idea. Her reminder that whatever else was going on in the universe, whatever unappreciative individuals might think of Nico’s charm and abilities, Yazawa Nico could always draw a crowd. With almost no notice. Take that aloof, rich, redheaded sexcapade. Nico didn’t care. Casual came with the territory. Hearts broken all over the globe.

Kotori had done an amazing job with the panther theme, finding huge, stuffed velvet panthers and leopards to scatter across the rooftop terrace under strings and strings of multicolored fairy lights, small brightness against the stunning Tokyo nightscape. Charged by the atmosphere, Nico twirled under the lights to the amusement of the woman setting up the bar. Nico winked. It was always good to appreciate your audience. She adjusted the bow at the neck of her black and gray glitter clouded leopard pattern sleeveless maxi dress. Kotori had a shiny brown jaguar fabric in a shirt tucked into high gold disco glamour trousers. Nico’s see through black stockings with vine texture added to the wild vibe.

Pretty soon, pretty pretty women were going to be screaming to be let in. Nico wondered when the celebrity guests of honor would arrive and then Kotori stepped out onto the roof, Umi on her arm, in a very elegant and modest little black dress, with a fascinating and subtle open knit texture Nico would have killed to design. What would the boxing redhead show up in, Nico wondered? Some more expensive designer than Nico?

###

Think casual. Last night in Tokyo. Eli smiled and bobbed her head at a young woman who couldn’t decide between approaching Eli or joining the swarm around Nico. Eli was enjoying the breeze, the cool darkness. She’d spent all day in their cramped office, having to deal with various government functionaries who did not believe Eli was official enough for the level of clearance she held. She was looking forward to being in the field, making spur of the moment decisions based on reconnaissance and sitreps. She pushed the sleeves of her loose white blazer up, black cigarette pants, and light blue linen shirt completing the outfit. Feather Smile had dressed like the sizzling hot, shine the spotlight here team they were and Umi had chosen her dress with her usual exquisite attention to detail. Eli smiled and leaned on the bar, “Vodka tonic, please.”

“Yes, miss.”

And then there was Maki. Arriving late, as always. Because it wasn’t a truly fashionable party unil Nishikino Maki arrived. The room practically stopped. No conversation as Maki strode through, brazen, confident, shooting dagger sparks if anyone dared glance her way. Maki pulled entire rooms without even trying and tonight, when she was letting the banked down fire burning in her core light those priceless amethyst eyes, there were actual gasps when she walked into a space for the first time. Eli was expecting something designer, but Maki had opted for gym chic?!!!? And then, Nico gestured at the DJ and a song Eli had almost forgotten came over the speaker system.

“Three, two, one, zero! Here's my intro Please look at me; I'm completely serious My thrilling beauty will win, without fail”

Soldier Game. The silly pop single they’d recorded in high school. Umi seemed surprised but smiled when Kotori giggled. Maki whirled, completely red, glaring at Nico, who dismissed her with an offhand wave and went back to being surrounded by a crushing crowd as the song continued. Maki, arms wrapped around her torso, was slouched behind a panther, nearly obscured, her bold energy burst.

Eli took her drink over, “Want this?”

Maki shook her head, cheeks still reddened.

“That’s a real blast from the past. I keep trying to forget it. Those photoshoots.”

“That tiara dug into my skull. I hate photoshoots.” Maki groaned.

“So this assignment will be fun.”

Maki’s nostrils flared. Eli knew she was biting back an ‘only if l get to shoot someone’ comment and kept the conversation going before Maki totally lost her temper.

“Well, you’ve made an entrance anyway.”

Maki scowled, “Now we do small talk?”

“I’ve had a government bureaucracy runaround kind of a day and I just want to stay off my phone, enjoy a breeze, listen to music, and have a few drinks. In order to do that in peace, I have to first make sure you won’t throw anyone off the roof.”

“What did Umi tell you?” Immediate suspicion.

Eli shrugged.

Maki sounded ready to strangle someone, “Just leave me alone, Eli.”

“Fine.” Eli raised a glass in a toast, “But remember why we’re here.”

“Fine.” Maki shoved past Eli. “I’m going to go be a rich brat.”

And she wasn’t even going to have to try, Eli thought as she downed her drink.

###

Nico was sliding across the floor, new, top tier dance moves, to amuse a set of twins, one with pink streaks, one with purple, both with leopard ears topping their hair.

“Nico Ni always dances her way to ideas. And then once Kotori creates them, Nico dances in them, because if cute girls can’t move and breathe in a Feather Smile design, no one but Nico sees it.”

“Do you get your ideas from concerts...or movies...or celebrities?” Pink Streak asked with a giggle. “Or do you just dream them up?”

“Nico only hangs out with the most stylish....”

“Zookeepers?” Maki asked drily as she leaned over the panther, having fueled her courage with double tequila shots. “”S really not innovative, or…” a shrug and the whole panther moved, “interesting really. The feline as an expression of feline…fury...furry...” she blinked, “I mean female sensuality. Overdone. Copied from cooler…” a pause for frantic blinking, “errors...ermines…”Maki couldn’t find the word and had to settle “years...not even rocker chic,” Maki giggled as Nico felt annoyance start to prick and Maki continued, “scraping rocker bottom chick.”

Nico rolled her eyes, Maki was obviously inebriated. She and the streak twins watched as the redhead stood, swayed, and decided she wasn’t finished

“Unless…” Maki leaned forward again, supported by both arms on the stuffed panther, and only a quick shoulder shove by Nico prevented Pink and Purple Streak from having two panthers sprawled all over them, “you’re into that?”

Pink Streak was closer so Nico grabbed those ears, leaned forward, stuck them firmly in sweaty red hair, whispered, “Do you purr?” and watched in amusement as Maki jumped back, dragging the panther with her, and sprinted for a bar.

###

Eli had spent much of the past three days sharing an office with Tojo Nozomi and the only conclusion she had drawn was that Nozomi, as she’d forced Eli to call her, was an enigma, with little hints of tantalizing layers of....mischief occasionally surfacing in those sea green labyrinth of eyes. Having done her duty as a friend to Maki and provided her temperamental compatriot an opportunity to vent off some steam, Eli found herself wondering where Nozomi was at this event. Not at one of the bars on the terrace, or rubbing up against the nearly five foot tall stuffed panthers like so many of the younger dancers, nor, as far as Eli could see, tucked into a corner conversation somewhere. Maybe she was inside, in one of the cool, dark wood alcoves, staring out at the Tokyo nightscape. This was certainly a view worth the price of one of the hotel’s rooms.

Eli wandered back into the bar. Not as many people clumped here, some masked, because now masks were fashionable. Eli had by now thoroughly reviewed the FeatherSmile dossier. They were one of the first companies to develop a gossamer fabric, diaphanous, like a movie genie’s veil, that still cut the dispersion of droplets. Thanks to Yazawa’s connections and innovative demands, FeatherSmile was often on the leading edge of textile tech. No Nozomi here though, veiled or not.

Eli wandered back out, to the high ceilinged open terrace, casually grabbing a handful of chocolate eclairs and macarons, and there was Nozomi, legs pulled up underneath her, in a very formal navy business suit, a floral shirt her only concession to the non office setting, sitting in the very middle of things, on something that in the very middle of furniture and sculpture

Eli, hands full of chocolate, slid in next to her, “You still look like you’re at the office.”

Nozomi smiled, “I am still on the job.”

“What is your job?” Eli couldn’t help it. She was usually good at figuring people out, at knowing who to ask for a briefing, at knowing which paperwork would fill in the sketch of a briefing, but Nozomi, for all that she looked a proper, mid-level bureaucrat, had none of the mid-level bureaucrat paper trail attached to her name or office, which made Eli think there was more going on here than a simple tourist jaunt covering for a drop off.

Nozomi shrugged, “I manage people.”

Another veronica, swing the distracting cape of an answer. Eli bit into a meltingly amazing pastry to consider the next tack to take.

“Ever been to America?”

“Yes. You?”

Eli ate the final, exquisite bite, “I haven’t spent as much time there as Maki. Family business kept me mainly in Russia or Tokyo.”

“Yes, it’s a very unique nexus you three represent: Japan, America, and Russia. Must have been an interesting high school.”

Eli laughed, “It was. I was student council president.”

As if cued, another Soldier Game song played.

“And the high school idol’ing?”

Eli sighed. No more chocolate left. And this was the topic.

Nozomi leaned forward a little, almost touching Eli’s knee, “Sorry, was that too personal? Something you want to forget?”

“No. It’s pretty common knowledge, although most people don’t know the backstory.”

“Backstory?”

“Maki’s drive to compose, Umi’s need to express herself in lyrics, my….”

Nozomi gave off a calming aura, encouraging Eli to talk. This wasn’t top secret info. Nothing was really stopping Eli from sharing. It was just a part of her past she preferred to…

Nozomi had waved a waiter over to break the tension, “Shirley Temple, please. Eli?”

“Vodka tonic.”

“Of course.” The waiter bowed.

“Sorry to push you. We can talk about the lovely view if you’d rather?” There was that mischief as Nozomi’s eyes met hers, and Nozomi giggled. “Or you can tell me if Maki always gets this drunk.”

“Only on tequila.”

“And you?”

“Never on tequila.” Eli laughed and leaned back against a concrete pillar, “I could never crack the upper echelon of Russian ballet schools. So I had something to prove.”

“Ah.”

Eli heard a confirmation in the ‘ah.” So Nozomi had already looked up the story. No real connection here. Price of doing business. Everyone knows more than they say and still fillets you for information. Confirm, look for weaknesses, memorize flaws. Eli suddenly felt worn.

“I’d better check in with Umi.” Eli stood, “I’ll see you on the plane tomorrow.”

Nozomi half rose, startled, but then settled back down, hands composed in her lap, “Of course. I hope you get some rest, Eli.”

Eli’s name sounded flat as Nozomi said it, but Eli still smiled and returned the courtesy, “I hope you can manage some off the job time.”

Nozomi shrugged. Eli turned away. Chocolate first, then Umi, then sleep. It had been too long a day.

###

Maki glared, then threw back the tequila shot she’d been carrying. Florrie’s ‘Begging Me’ was echoing and she wondered exactly how much control Nico had exerted over the DJ’s playlist. Long Island Iced Tea next, this was a Long Island Iced Tea night.

She marched up to the bartender, demanded the drink, took the bare minimum amount of time to drink it down through a cold metal straw, lips nearly frozen. A little buzzy, a little daring, feeling the need to just…

Everyone not actively chatting up a potential partner in the low lighting, dark wood interior of the bar had spilled out onto the roof, where with no time at all, Feather Smile had set up a sort of prowling fur extravaganza, huge velvet panthers and leopards arrayed in clusters, doubling as seating, people leaning or riding on them, a bar at either end of the terrace. The lights of Tokyo were everywhere there weren’t stars or fairy lights and Maki took a deep breath, trying to just check out of the party scene and let the lights and movement scatter her looping thoughts. It was usually a very solid escape plan, but just as her shoulders relaxed, someone giggled, “Oh, Nico, that tickles” and Maki spun to see Nico leaning over a woman leaning back into a velvet black panther, the woman’s shirt off, her see through black lace bra shimmering darkly. Nico had a metallic pen and finished off her signature with a flourish. And a kiss on the fabric to seal it.

Another giggle. And something whispered. And Nico leaning over the woman to whisper a reply. Maki headed back to the bartender who’d done her marginally satisfying Long Island Ice Tea.

“Make it better this time or I’ll make sure you’re fired.” Maki snapped.

The bartender bowed, “Of course. I’m so sorry the last one was not satisfying.”

“More tequila.”

Umi’s voice cut in, “Whatever she’s having, make it with less tequila. Cute ears by the way.”

Maki reached up and ripped the Nico tainted accessory out of her hair.

Umi leaned on the bar, shaking her head at Maki. “You have to stop getting random staffers fired. People won’t like you.”

“People,” Maki couldn’t help that her glance went to Nico, “Don’t like me now.”

Nico had her arms around a woman’s waist and they were swaying to music that was too sexy to be swaying to in public. Maki pushed herself off the bar, but Umi caught her arm.

“Weapons.” Umi demanded.

Maki waved her hands down the length of her torso. Her side slashed, short, armless tunic covering a sports bra, offered a view of her torso that showed no hidden armament. Her form fitting shorts also proved that there was nothing unnatural about any of the curves the fabric was clinging to. “I just want to dance.”

Visual check cleared, Umi offered Maki the terrace, “Enjoy.”

Maki’s eyes burned with fierce intensity, ‘I plan to.”

And a mellow song, Surf Mesa’s "ILY", rolled but there was nothing mellow about the way Maki walked into the center of the terrace, threw out her arms, closed her eyes, and started mouthing “I love you, baby” as Emilie did, arms raising, wrists crossed over each other, muscle pulses so tight that it seemed like her whole torso was throbbing as she circled her abdomen, thrusting her hips incrementally forward, flexing her knees to crouch down to bounce up, tossing her hair back in near slow motion and red strands flamed in the pattern of flashes that suddenly surrounded her as everyone pulled out their phone, images of Maki lost in a blur, not captive, as the Tokyo nightscape provided a brilliant, blinding backdrop.

###

Nico did not like the speculative, predatory look in Kotori’s eye. She was very familiar with it and they had a strict first seen, first claimed agreement that Nico’s boxing ring encounter with Maki certainly would have invoked but Nico did not want to be so open about her...there was no right word..interest, annoyance, remembering her most recent encounter with Maki, Nico laughed at herself and decided animal attraction was probably the truest.

With so much attention on Maki and the terrace full of dark patches, Nico and Kotori had found a moment to meet. Kotori was leaning into her elbows, watching Maki, idly twisting the straw in her drink.

“Don’t you have a very stylish samurai stashed somewhere?” Nico decided on a diversionary tactic.

Nico knew her partner very well. Kotori turned away from watching Maki, with a squeal, “Did you see that dress, Nico? And the texture, exquisite, I couldn’t rip my hands away. I just want to take it off her so I can see how they did that open knit.”

Nico leaned into obvious, with a snort, “That’s not the only reason.”

Kotori arched an eyebrow, “I never discuss proprietary tactics, Nico.”

Nico chuckled, ‘Well, there seem to be a few other people interested in that…” Nico paused and pointed over her shoulder to where Umi was walled off by a crowd of women fascinated by the most inscrutable member of Soldier Game, now that Maki had decided to dry heave near a plant, “dress.”

Kotori’s lips twisted and anger flared briefly in now cold golden eyes, “I’ll see if Umi-chan wants to sit and sip some champagne.”

Nico was watching Maki run shaky fingers through her hair and slap herself on the cheeks. “And I’ll get the dancing started up again.”

###

Eli leaving had left Nozomi unsettled. So she took her Shirley Temple in hand and decided to roam. Her first target, Nico, who was once again somehow not being crushed by a crowd of young women demanding Nico sign their bras with her private contact info. Nico’s flirt style was an art, all wink and dash, never lingering, but always making a connection. Eager, thirsty eyes followed her everywhere. Nozomi was impressed by the range of her charisma and how professionally in stride Nico took the adoration.

“Care to sign something a little less personal for me?” Nozomi asked when Nico spun into her zone.

Nico demurred. “Nico always needs a treat.” A completely outrageous wink as Nico moved to the next young woman, who had unbuttoned her blouse, exposing ample curves that almost escaped their lacy lilac support, “Hi. Nico Ni wants to know. What’s your name and favorite color?”

“Oki and Green.” The blonde woman flushed as Nico let the pen linger a little.

“Nico will design a holiday set to showcase these memorable curves.” NIco finished her signature with a flourish, “Look for it. Nico thinks Santa will bring a good girl like you, Oki, a very special set.”

“Don’t talk about Santa like that.” An angry voice interrupted.

“Maki! We haven’t had a chance to talk all night.” Nozomi stepped in, trying to divert Maki and guide her away by the elbow, but the riled up heiress brushed off any restraint.

Maki had one target in her laser focused sights. Nico. “Don’t use Santa as a shill for your lingerie.”

Nico winked at the blonde, before answering Maki, “Nico got all her elf paperwork in on time last year. Completely certified to deliver North Pole approved presents. Ask half of Tokyo.”

“Ask Santa.” Maki’s fist were clenched. Nico had no idea why she was in the middle of a fight about two beloved holiday traditions, Santa Claus and FeatherSmile’s Christmas Cuddle lingerie line, but Maki had once again impulsively shoved them both into something unexpected.

“Okay, Nico will.” Nico took her pen and started to write a note on her arm, but Maki grabbed the pen and wrote a number on Nico’s arm as she spoke.

“Text me when he tells you you’re officially on the naughty list.” Maki snorted, “I want to laugh at you.”

This was an incredibly strange way to get the number of the hot, crazy girl she’d already had sex with. But Nico could roll with anything. That was her real superpower. And why she was so good at ALL of her jobs.

But before Nico could retort, Nozomi took the pen and wrote a number under Maki’s on Nico’s arm, “Text me too.”

The blonde giggled. Nozomi smirked at her, and leaned down to whisper, “I’d like to see green on you. Can I get you a drink? I have a Christmas at the South Pole story that you’ll never forget.”

And that left Nico with the glaring Maki. The crowd had been repelled by the waves of fury rolling off Maki. Nico sighed, “What are we really fighting about?”

“Santa.” Maki said stubbornly.

“It’s June, Nico loves Christmas, but Nico was planning to think about the beach and bikinis for at least a week.”

Maki crossed her arms over her torso as another Soldier Game song came over the speakers. “Did you have to play them?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“People expect it.” Nico listened for a verse, “Plus, they’re catchy. You sound good. You wrote the music, right?”

“Composed.”

“Wrote, composed…”

Maki leaned very much into Nico’s face, blinking, “Sewed, painted, same thing, right?”

“Fine. Nico will use the right words. Do you still compose?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“What do you want to talk about?” Nico opened her arms to the room, “Nico has adoring fans eager for a few minutes of her time and your minutes,” Nico glanced at her watch, “are up.”

Maki pulled back. “I don’t want to talk.”

Nico stepped close, and could feel Maki tense at the proximity, “Well, Nico does have a suite reserved if you really need some…”

“Stop.” Maki’s hands shot out, Nico guessed to push Nico away, but they just lingered on her shoulders.

“Well, if you want to dance, Nico never disappoints a pretty lady.” And Nico dropped both hands to Maki’s waist, pulling her in, and starting to sway as the tempo of the music slowed. Maki shadowed the motion, her eyes closing, for a minute and then she froze, eyes wide open, looking down at Nico in horror.

“Um...why...no…I have to…”

“Run?” Nico suggested, her tone teasing.

Maki’s wry smile, full of unguarded charm, was a change of mood more surprising than anything that had happened to Nico so far, “How’d you guess?”

Nico was getting intrigued. This wasn’t the plan. But Nico always had a stock answer, “Nico knows.”

“Santa knows. Nico fakes it.” Almost a playful growl.

“Still on Santa? Did I mention June?” Nico decided to pull Maki close enough that their hips were bumping. “And nothing Nico does is faked.” Nico dropped her voice, closing in on Maki’s ear, “Don’t you remember?”

Full, complete flush. WIld blinking. Nico had a sudden inspiration and released Maki’s waist. “Thanks for your number. Nico might call you, if you’re lucky,”

With a frustrated growl, Maki suddenly had both hands in her own hair, rough tearing it, and Nico wanted to feel the texture so bad it took enormous physical effort to hold her hands back. Then Maki was standing straight again, so tall, slashed tunic showing muscle and tan and curves, a sexy dream fuel snarl mouthing words that took Nico a few seconds to actually register the foreignness of, “Da parte mia, ritengo che sia meglio essere avventurosi che cauti, perché la fortuna è una donna.”

Was that Italian? How many languages did Maki speak? Nico decided she needed less homework not more as Maki walked away from her, a tequila induced sway threatening to tilt her into a bystander.

####

Hanayo glanced away from the FeatherSmile party livestream. If she’d been there, she would have been a mouse in a quiet corner. She couldn’t hear anything but the music but the party was still almost as engaging as a good Korean drama. Hanayo enjoyed watching the women move in and out of conversation groups, dancing, leaning into close, cozy chats that Hanayo could imagine might result in even cozier conversations. Nico was a blur of motion and charisma, Kotori cool and calm and centered as she glided everywhere, from woman to woman, a quick kiss on so many cheeks, a sly smile when no one was looking but the camera. Hanayo wondered what it would be like to be in the same room with them.

She glanced at the small chat window on her business phone. Her agricultural contacts wanted an in person meeting coinciding with her FeatherSmile obligations. She opened a text window on her laptop. Nozomi had warned her about something like this happening.

A/N: The Italian is a quote from Machiavelli: "For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman."Hi.

#Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #bodyguard au #Tojo Nozomi #Ayase Eli #NicoMaki #NozoEli #KotoUmi #Sonoda Umi #Minami Kotori #Koizumi Hanayo #Soldier Game

6 notes · View notes

excindrela · 5 years ago

Text

12 Days of Demon Ayno- Day 4

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Implied sex

Word Count: 1739

AN: Welcome back to the 12 Days of Demon Ayno! It’s Day 4- only 8 more to go! As promised, more smut is coming (hint: Day 6) but since it’s the Holiday Season, this is Fluffy! I love feedback- so if there’s something you like, or something you want to see- tell me!! Thank you to everyone who has continued to read this, and especially to those who have re-blogged!

Demon Ayno: Summoned, Thanksgiving, 12 Days: Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

On the 4th Day of Christmas: Ayno Gets His 1st Christmas Tree

Just like the song said, the weather outside was frightful- and had been for a couple days, but inside your apartment it was actually pretty delightful. Ambiance and heat were being provided by the electric fireplace, and you were stretched out on the couch across from your inhuman boyfriend. You were focused on your laptop, trying to get some work done before your office closed for the holidays, and Ayno was watching the “Christmas in Rockefeller Center” special on TV.

You would occasionally glance up at now skinny Al Roker (you liked him better fat) or respond to Ayno’s comments or questions. (Why do those girls have such long legs? How do they do that? I think it’s a requirement- they’re the Rockettes, they practice those kicks a lot. Are those the boys that sing and dance on the blonde lady’s show? Oh, yeah- I think so? They’re from Korea…BT something? Ellen loves them. Why is this lady surprised? She isn’t – she’s just had too much plastic surgery.) Finally, the big moment came, and they lit the tree at 30 Rock. You glanced up and smiled at Ayno’s “Awww” of awe- he was really loving all the Christmas lights.

“It’s pretty, huh?” you asked.

Ayno nodded profusely, and then hesitantly asked, “Could we get a tree and put lights on it?”

You smiled, “Yes! Of course!” You paused “...I was going to say we could go after work, but I have meetings and I’ll be late the next couple of days.”

He looked disappointed, and then brightened. “If you will allow me…This is my first Christmas tree- I would like to pick it out and decorate it. You don’t need to help- I will choose the tree and make it perfect.” He said excitedly.

Your Spidey sense tingled. You weren’t sure you should let Ayno do this without guidance, but he wanted so much to prove he was capable.

“Ok. If you buy from the Boy Scouts tree lot on 4th & Grand, they’ll deliver it for you.”

“I promise I will choose well and make it beautiful!” he declared.

Of that you had little doubt…it was the process that concerned you.

When you rolled in just after 6:15 the next evening you expected to see a tree in your living room and Ayno decorating it. But there was no tree, and Ayno was cooking dinner. “No tree??” you asked

“It is being delivered after six. I am waiting.” Ayno said taking the chicken parmigiana out of the oven.

You changed your clothes into something comfortable and went down to the building’s basement to retrieve the two boxes of Christmas decorations from storage while Ayno made noodles & poured you wine.

You had no sooner returned to the apartment and there was a knock on the door and what appeared to be an entire troop of Boy Scouts standing there.

“We have a tree delivery for…I-Know?” the leader asked hesitantly.

“A-Know”, you supplied.

“That is me!” Ayno said as he went sprinting for the door.

“Sign here”, the boy said. “Where do you want it?”

Ayno pointed to the living room and then stood aside.

You watched as the top of the tree came through the door... and then just kept coming…and coming…and coming. They marched into the living room, stood it in the spot Ayno pointed to, and then cut the twine holding it tight and it exploded out into all its bushy gloriousness.

It was huge. It was the Christmas tree that ate your living room.

You tapped one of the Boy Scouts on the shoulder “What is that??”

“It’s your Christmas tree ma’am”

“Yes I know that, but what kind of tree is that??”

“It’s a Grand Fir ma’am… Abies Grandis? It’s a soft wood conifer.”

“Uh-huh... how tall is that tree?”

“Oh that one is only 12 feet. Grand Firs can reach the height of almost 300 feet.”

“Ok. Wow. Here- thanks kid.” You said if you handed him a $20 bill.

Ayno clapped with joy. “Look! It is just like the one on TV!!”

Well it certainly looked as big as the one on TV. You weren’t sure exactly what Ayno had in mind, but you had a feeling it was about to get interesting. You grabbed your dinner from the kitchen and made yourself comfortable on the couch to watch the show.

Ayno immediately began digging through the boxes. He finally found a string of colored lights stuffed into the bottom of the second box, but it was a giant tangled mess. He happily sat down cross-legged on the floor and began un-tangling it while singing a little song to himself.

Once the lights were untangled, he stood before the tree holding them trying to decide exactly how to make this work. He walked around the tree looking at it from all sides and stuck his head into it between the branches. Finally, he turned to you with a quizzical look on his face. “How do they stay on?” He asked confused.

“How do the lights stay lit or how do they stay on the tree?” you clarified.

Ayno shot you a droll look. “I understand electricity. How do they stay where you put them on the tree??”

You shrugged “You have to kind-of wind them around and through the branches?”

This seemed to make sense to him, and he began- right in the center front. He sort-of wound them around the front section of the tree and got about 4 feet up when he suddenly ran out of lights. Looking a bit confused he went back over to the boxes and rummaged around looking for more lights, before sighing in frustration as he came up empty. “There are no more lights”.

“No… I think I only have the one string”.

“But there is more tree.”

“Yeah…I don’t think I’ve ever bought a tree bigger than 4ft. I had no idea you were going to buy a 12ft tree.”

He looked defeated. He said down next to you sighing heavily “I think I have failed in this task.” he said sadly.

“I don’t think so.”

He looked at you questioningly. “You want to try to blend in and be perceived as human right? Well, failing at things is part of being human -but so is resilience and finding solutions to problems. I don’t think you have failed- I think you have encountered a setback. The tree itself is lovely and it smells amazing! I think you chose well. ... and I am confident that you will figure out how to fix this- without my help…but If you want it, I’m here.” He nodded, still feeling bad.

You had come to realize that feeling like he was competent at existing in the human world was important to Ayno. He wanted so much to fit in so that you could tell people he was your boyfriend and not worry about him being odd or embarrassing. So, although the solution to this problem was simple, for the sake of his self-esteem, you wanted Ayno to get to it on his own.

You climbed over into his lap and straddled him, winding your arms around his back, your hands into his hair as you brought your mouth to his. You kissed him deeply, feeling him melt into you. You kissed along his jaw and down his neck, listening to him sigh as his hands gently stroked your back. “Let’s go to bed Ayno”, you whispered looking into his glowing eyes. “It is still rather early” he reminded you. You smiled, “I didn’t say anything about going to sleep.” He smiled back and carried you off to the bedroom, leaving his frustration behind, just as you hoped.

* * *

Thanks to co-workers who were incapable of reading their e-mails and insisted on asking the same stupid questions over and over, you didn’t get home from work until almost seven.

When you opened the door to the apartment it was pitch black – the only thing visible were Ayno’s eyes because they glowed in the dark. It still freaked you out. You made to flip on the lights, but he caught your hand. “No, no lights! I will take you to the bedroom so you can change.”

You were at least allowed to turn on the bedroom light while you changed, but then he led you through the darkened apartment to the living room. You had no idea what he was up to, but you were glad for his un-natural ability to see in the dark like a cat. He came to a stop and turned you, and then said, “Cover your eyes!”

“Ayno- what are you doing??”

“I have made a surprise! No peeking!”

“Ok, ok! They’re covered.” You could not see that he came over and checked to see that they were.

You could hear him rustling around, and then “Ok. You may look now.”

A breathy gasp escaped your lips as you uncovered your eyes. Ayno had solved his problem: he had purchased more lights- and his 12-foot tree now sparkled in hundreds of multicolor lights of every shape and size, some of them gently fading on and off making it twinkle. He’d bought silver tinsel “icicles” too, and lovingly draped them individually on the branches creating a beautiful waterfall effect.

“Oh Ayno- It’s beautiful!!” you gushed.

He flashed his giant smile, and then stood up on his tip-toes to flick the switch that turned on the star on top. The topper was a huge 3D cut star with a disco ball that hung in the middle and 4 tiny LEDs that shone on it. The ball slowly turned, casting the sequin like shadows around the room that they are known for.

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“It’s gorgeous, Ayno. This is, without a doubt, the most beautiful tree I have ever had”, you said sincerely as you pulled his face down to kiss him.

“Succeed”, he said softly.

Then, he reached into his pocket for the sound system remote and pushed “play” as he led you to the middle of the room. As the music began, he pulled you into his arms and began to sway.

…Yeah, we've time to spare without a care We don't need nothin' new. Some mistletoe, a lover's glow And a table dressed for two. Oh, I'd rather have Christmas with you. Yes, I'd rather have Christmas with you…

#ayno #vav ayno #vav #noh yoonho #ayno fluff #vav fluff #vav fanfic #kpop fanfiction #holiday fluff

43 notes · View notes

prettywordsyouleft · 6 years ago

Text

Revelations

Summary: You had been friends with Yugyeom just as long as his older sister had been your best friend. What you weren’t aware of was Yugyeom didn’t just see you as his friend.

Pairing: Kim Yugyeom x noona/older reader

Genre: friends to lovers au / fluff

Anonymous said:

Hi!! was wondering if you could write something with yugyeom having a crush on his older sisters best friend?? i need more yugyeom x noona content 😂😂 (ps i am obsessed with everything you write and find myself coming back to read them over and over)

Word count: 2329

You laughed when Yugyeom came into the living room and slumped down on the sofa you were sat upon dramatically. Poking him with your foot playfully, you smirked. “What’s wrong with you?”

“What else? School.”

“Well if you spent more time awake in classes, I’m sure you’d actually grasp what you’re being taught, Gyeom.” You scooted closer to him. “Which subject is it this time?”

“Don’t humour him, Y/N,” his sister and your best friend instructed upon re-entering the living space, shaking her head firmly. “He has to learn to do it himself.”

“So it was alright for you to get help with your schoolwork from friends, but not me?” the youngest of the three scoffed and you tried to hide your smile. You failed and patted his knee gently.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you. But only this time.”

“That’s what you said last time, Y/N,” Yubin reminded sourly and let out a groan. “Stop hogging my best friend. She’s not your friend, Yugyeom!”

“Who gets to decide who’s friend she is, huh? Noona has always been my friend too!”

You held up your hands at the siblings and laughed lightly. “Hey, there’s no need to fight over me. There’s plenty to go around.”

Yugyeom smiled smugly at his older sister, who poked her tongue at him immaturely. You sighed, though you continued to smile. It had always been like this. Growing up together, it meant you had been in Yugyeom’s life for just as long as you had been in Yubin’s. Their family was loud and dramatic, unlike yours, and you naturally gravitated towards spending your afternoons and weekends at their house. You liked the bustle within their home and even now as you were wrapping up on your university degree, you still found yourself de-stressing whenever you were here. It was why you had suggested the movie marathon in the first place tonight. You were exhausted from cramming for mid-terms and needed to relax within good company. Despite their banter, Yugyeom and Yubin were close. You had always been jealous of their bond, not being as close to your own siblings. Perhaps it was because they were much too quiet compared.

Yubin suddenly sat up and looked at her brother pointedly. “Wait, why are you here? This was a movie marathon for us. Don’t you have other people to hang out with on a Saturday night?”

Yugyeom rolled his eyes, uncaring of the whine from his sister as he reached for some of the popcorn on the table. “In case you’ve forgotten, big sis, I live here too. I don’t have any plans for the night.”

“It’s a public domain of the house as well,” you mentioned and Yubin turned to look at you suspiciously. “What, you’re always on his case!”

“You’re too soft towards him, don’t encourage him.” Yubin then pulled her phone out of her lap and answered it, leaving the room as her voice grew sweeter, indicating it was her boyfriend on the other end.

Yugyeom scrunched his nose up. “Why is she so two-faced? I hate that voice she puts on for Mark-hyung.”

“I’m sure when you date someone, you naturally treat them affectionately.” Yugyeom glanced at you, his cheeks flushing lightly. You laughed and nodded. “See, you are aware of it.”

“No, I don’t do anything differently than how I am with you.”

“Well you treat me nicely, so I wouldn’t complain if I was your girlfriend,” you stated with a smile, looking back at the movie. You felt his eyes still attached to the side of your head and glanced towards him again. “Yugyeom, you okay?”

“Huh?” He blinked slowly and then seemed to come out of his stupor, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Right, just as if you were my girlfriend.”

“Who’s girlfriend?” Yubin asked when she entered the room and when Yugyeom wasn’t immediately forthcoming with an answer, she shrugged and looked over at you pleadingly. “So Mark’s been injured at work tonight and I need to go meet up with him, is that okay?”

“Of course, go!”

She glanced at you both; seeming satisfied you still had company. “Looks like your lack of plans worked out well. Don’t harass Y/N too much and get her whatever she wants to eat.”

“I have my own hands and know the way into the kitchen,” you replied with a laugh, Yugyeom still not responding to either of you. His change in mood was lost on his older sister who waved in farewell, the front door closing soon after she disappeared. You nudged Yugyeom. “Are you not in the mood for the movie anymore? We don’t have to watch it. We could do something else.”

“Oh, uh-”

“Didn’t you say you needed help with your school work? Let’s do that instead. We’re both kind of distracted from the movie now.”

Yugyeom stared at you again and right before you went to ask if he was okay, he seemed to relax, grinning over at you. “Would you? That would be such a big help.”

An hour later, you were deep into the throes of explaining Moll Flanders to Yugyeom. You stopped when you noticed that he wasn’t paying attention, a playful smile crossing your lips. “And then a unicorn appeared and had a disco party.”

“Yeah,” he said with a slight nod, frowning soon after. “Wait, what?!”

“So you are paying attention after all,” you mused and Yugyeom rolled his eyes. “I thought you were going to fall asleep.”

“Well, it’s not exactly comfortable studying here at the dining table.”

You nodded. “Do you want to go somewhere else? You’ve got a lot of texts up in your room, right? We can go up there and-”

“No!” he cut in, his cheeks flushing. You poked him again with a laugh.

“Why are you being so cute and shy tonight with me? You know I’ve seen your room multiple times when we’ve studied in there before. Heck, I still remember that time when we were teens and I walked in on you-”

“You promised you would never bring that up ever again!” he hissed vehemently and you laughed loudly. Yugyeom shook his head, insulted. “Noona, you’re not playing fair with me!”

“Why should I? Having dirt on you could benefit me in some way one day.”

He let out a dry laugh. “Have you forgotten I’ve got equal amounts of knowledge of what you’ve done over the years?”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” you challenged and Yugyeom’s previous boredom was soon erased. His eyes glistened with mischief and you eyed him carefully.

“Like that time one summer where your bikini top came undone and you had to hide behind the bushes for an hour whilst Yubin and Mark-hyung played in the pool because you couldn’t grab your top in time and got frightened. Had I not come to your rescue, what would you have done, huh?”

You instinctively clutched at your chest with the memory resurfacing and shuddered. “I paid you back by pretending to be your girlfriend last year when that girl wouldn’t stop stalking you.”

“She still thinks we’re dating,” he mentioned softly and you grinned. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

“As long as she’s not harassing you, I’m fine about it.”

“You know that Jinyoung-hyung wanted to ask you out but heard about us so he hasn’t, right? You could be potentially missing out on a boyfriend right now.”

“Wait, what?!”

Yugyeom smirked. “He really liked you too. A shame he’s moved on now with Jem, right?”

“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?!” you asked and the tall boy shrugged. “Yugyeom!”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“You need to tell all your friends I’m single! Right now!”

“It’s nearing midnight, Noona. I’m not going to message anyone.”

“Where’s your phone, I’ll do it!” Your eyes searched the spread before you on the table and then looked at Yugyeom. His gaze gave him away by looking to his sweats and you jumped up from your chair, rounding the table in haste. He was just as quick, however, shifting back with a chuckle.

“What are you going to do, fish it out of my pocket?”

You nodded adamantly. “That’s exactly what I’m going to do, so come here!”

Yugyeom instead took off around the house and you followed in pursuit, screaming at him to give you his phone. You thumped upstairs and through his open bedroom door, grinning when he cornered himself. Yugyeom darted his focus to the door and went to dash for it. You leapt up onto the bed and reached out for him, yanking him back with the help of his t-shirt.

Breathlessly, you laughed in triumph. “Going somewhere?”

“You have to get it off me first,” he answered, breathing just as heavy as you.

“I’ll use any tactic necessary,” you grunted, trying to avoid his hands grabbing at yours with every chance you tried to take to get into his pocket.

Eventually, your arms became tangled and Yugyeom let them go, instead holding you to his chest. You smirked. “Bad move, my hand is free to reach down.”

“Can’t you just let everyone still think we’re dating?” he asked, his tone serious. You paused in your efforts, frowning when you couldn’t find a trace of humour in his face. Yugyeom let out a heavy breath. “We’ve known each other for years and yet you’re still blind to the crush I have had on you forever, right?”

“Wait… crush?” you echoed and Yugyeom shook his head incredulously. You attempted to laugh. “Hey, if this is your way of preventing me from-”

“Can’t we make it go from fake dating to something real between us?” he continued and you stopped talking altogether. “Do you really just see me as some kid that’s followed you and my sister around all these years?”

“You’re not a kid,” you countered but you diverted your gaze at the same time. You were becoming acutely aware of how much he had transformed from the boy you’d known all your life. His chest was too firm, and his arms strong. You gulped and tried to push away from him. Yugyeom let you with a sigh but your force sent you into a seated position on his bed, stunned.

“But I’m not a man, right?”

“I don’t know what you are to me,” you admitted and then glanced up at him. “Are you sure you’re not confused with how much of a show we had to put on last year? I mean, I even kissed you that one time.”

Yugyeom smiled weakly as he sat down beside you. “It’s been over five years now.”

“T-that long?!” you squeaked out, your eyes widening with his announcement. How had you been blind to it? You racked your brain for any tell-tale signs and apart from the blushes he would now and then succumb to, he just seemed like regular Yugyeom to you. Looking into his warm brown eyes, you tried looking for signs there instead. And it was as you stared deeply at him that you realised all the little things you loved about him. His face was gentle and welcoming, and the small smile on his lips made you smile too. Yugyeom reached out for you slowly, linking his hand with yours.

“Are you realising it yet?”

“Your sister would kill you for having a crush on me.”

“Yubin is all talk. She loves me as much as she does you. Who better to look after and protect you than me, huh?”

“You can protect me? From what?”

Yugyeom grinned cheekily. “From the likes of Park Jinyoung.”

You rolled your eyes. “That’s immature!”

“So, you still like it,” he mentioned and you nodded before you realised it. His smile grew wider. “You like me.”

“Are you stalling on kissing me by talking so much or should I figure this out by making the first move?” you wondered impatiently and with a chuckle, Yugyeom lowered his head before capturing your lips in a soft, lingering embrace. You remembered how you had kissed him last year, albeit that kiss was quick and purposeful. And whilst there was purpose to the reason for kissing Yugyeom now, it was vastly different from your memory of the previous one. Everything inside of you felt as if it was burning hot, and as the kiss grew passionate, you realised that deep down there didn’t need to be any sign to show you how much you liked Yugyeom. You had always liked him. He was your friend, your shadow at times, and your confidante. You would never admit to Yubin just how many secrets you hadn’t told her but her brother instead.

Though you would need to tell her about this, given the fact that you were pretty sure you couldn’t stop kissing Yugyeom now that you had started. When he finally pulled away, you were somehow underneath him on his bed, his hand ghosting the thin strip of skin that was showing from your top riding up getting into this position. You reached out to cup his cheek in your hand and smiled. “Anything else you want to tell me tonight? Or was the crush the only thing I need to worry about?”

Yugyeom chuckled, turning to kiss your palm gently before grinning at you. “About that homework, I already submitted my Moll Flanders essay three days ago.”

You let out a short laugh, shaking your head softly. “You faked needing help?”

“All these years,” he confirmed cheekily and you feigned annoyance. “Should I ask for forgiveness?”

“I could think of a few ways to punish you,” you mentioned airily and his eyes widened. Then you groaned. “However, after kissing you like that, I don’t want to hold back because then it’ll be me who suffers too.”

Yugyeom moved to kiss you again. “Well, I don’t want you to suffer; it’s been far too long waiting for this moment to arrive.”

_________________

[GOT7 Masterlist] | [Main Masterlist] | [Request Guidelines]

427 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 6 years ago

Text

Undone, Chapter 22 (Bitney) - Stephanie/Veronica

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 22 of UNDONE, our slow burn Bitney lesbian AU. Here’s a link to the previous chapters. And here’s some art inspired by the story (by people for whom I would happily give up a kidney!).

Summary: Things are progressing: Bianca’s divorce, her pregnancy, and her relationship with Courtney. Bonus: a little redemption moment for Willam.

Beta’d by the wonderful @jimvssherlock and guardian angel @missdandee <3

TW: Refereces to emotional abuse, PTSD

***

“Hey!” Courtney looks up from the stove, where she’s got several saucepans simmering.

Bianca should have known - she’d briefly mentioned having a craving for spaghetti and meatballs that afternoon. So of course, here’s her fairy godmother, catering to her every whim. Courtney dumps a colander of cooked spaghetti back into the pot and begins to ladle in the sauce.

Bianca watches her, greeting the dogs and shifting on her aching feet.

“That smells heavenly.”

Courtney giggles a bit, trying not to smile idiotically at the praise, hoping it will live up to Bianca’s seemingly high expectations.

“I’m using pre-made meatballs,” she says, feeling the need to temper those expectations a bit. “Because...you know. Meat juice.”

“Totally fair.”

“But the guy in Whole Foods promised me they’re really good.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great. What can I do to help?”

“Um...I think everything’s pretty much done.” Courtney smiles at her, giving the pasta a vigorous stir. “Just relax.”

Bianca doesn’t argue, sitting down heavily and taking a sip from her water glass. There’s a bowl of caesar salad, a basket of garlic bread, and a tray of roasted broccolini. She definitely doesn’t deserve to be spoiled like this. If she wasn’t ravenous, she’d probably object.

“So…” Courtney begins, dishing out some hearty portions. “How was therapy?”

“Well…she seemed cool. She said to call her Bob, which is weird, but I like her. She laughed at my jokes, so that was nice.”

Courtney glances back at her, eyebrow raised a bit, before turning back to the stove to finish plating.

“Alright…” She carries the plates over to the table and sets them down.

Bianca bites her lip. She’s pretty aware that making her therapist laugh isn’t the goal. But the whole thing just felt so awkward--she couldn’t help herself. She picks up the little dish of grated cheese and douses her spaghetti with it.

“I know I’m probably doing it all wrong.”

“Doing what all wrong?” Courtney asks.

“Therapy.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, B.”

“I saw your face,” Bianca tells her. “Don’t act like you weren’t thinking it.”

“Well...I mean, yes, I think you probably have a different approach than I would. But...that’s your journey,“ she shrugs.

Bianca rolls her eyes.

“Can you not be perfect for like...three seconds?”

“I’ll do my best,” Courtney preens, with fluttering lashes and a sassy wink.

Bianca laughs and takes a huge bite.

“Oh my god,” she says, words muffled by her mouth full of food.

“Is it good?” Courtney asks hopefully, taking a delicate bite from her own plate.

“So good. I could cry. I wish you could taste it.”

“I’m okay with my veggie sausage,” she says, “But I’m glad you like it.”

“It’s fucking delicious,” Bianca manages to say, once she’s swallowed.

Courtney beams at her.

“But think how good it would be if you made the meatballs yourself. Lazy.”

Courtney scrunches up her face. She throws a piece of garlic bread across the table and Bianca ducks, cackling.

***

Asia’s tone is uncharacteristically warm as she goes slowly through the divorce petition with Bianca, making sure for the third time that everything in there is accurate. Bianca nods along, initialing where she’s supposed to, signing where directed, but her mind is elsewhere, spinning in unproductive circles.

After the last signature, Asia takes the sheath of papers from her, saying, “Last chance to change your mind.”

Bianca shakes her head.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

“Are you okay? This part is tough for people, so-”

“Yeah, I’m...I’m glad we’re moving forward, I just...there’s something I should probably have told you sooner.” Bianca bites her lip, the sharp pain keeping her grounded in the moment when all she really wants is to tune it all out.

“Alright.” Asia folds her hands, waiting.

“Um...I’m pregnant.”

Asia nods slowly, the only sign of surprise one slightly raised eyebrow.

“How far along are you?”

“A little over seven weeks.”

“Are you gonna keep it?” Asia asks, face impassive.

“Yes!” Bianca exclaims, following up with a softer, “...yes.”

Asia leans back in her chair, letting out a long sigh, nodding.

“This complicates things. You know that.”

“I do.”

“Alright.” Asia sits up straight, clicks her tongue and makes a note on her pad. Back to business. “We don’t need to change anything in the filing. We can tell them when we’re negotiating. If it’s still relevant.”

Bianca opens her mouth, horrified, a hand going automatically to her abdomen. Asia’s face softens, eyes flicking over to a framed photo of a beautiful little girl for less than a moment, then back to Bianca.

“I’m just saying...shit happens. No use bringing it up until you’re...out of the danger zone.”

Bianca nods, a sick feeling creeping into her stomach. Will she ever be out of the danger zone? She looks out the window, blinking back tears and trying her best to breathe evenly.

“Go home,” Asia tells her. “Try not to think about it. We’ll serve in the morning and I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from his lawyer.”

“Thanks, Asia.”

***

Courtney emerges from the fitting room, twirling in the full-skirted dress that she knows Bianca’s been working on all week.

“Well?” She strikes a pose.

“It’s perfect,” Bianca grins, taking the polaroid. “Come here.”

“Yeah?” Courtney sashays forward slowly, a coy sparkle in her eye.

Bianca waits for her to get close, close enough to see the faint freckles across her nose, to feel the heat radiating off her skin, before she holds up the lint brush.

Glancing down at it, an airy little giggle bubbles up out of Courtney’s chest, releasing some of the tension in the room. Bianca begins to roll the brush over the velvet fabric, lifting up one of Courtney’s arms by the wrist.

“Be gentle,” Courtney teases, and Bianca slows down.

“This good?” Bianca’s voice is a whisper.

Courtney nods, swallowing. She lets Bianca work, pliant as a doll, spinning with the softest nudge. Her heart beats rapidly as the roller runs over her back and shoulders. Bianca puts down the roller, smoothing the fabric with her hands.

“Okay...I think you’re good,” Bianca says softly, eyes catching Courtney’s in the mirror.

“Thanks.” Before she opens the trailer door, she turns back with a big smile on her face and suggests, “Rebel Wilson Del Rio?”

“Get out of here,” Bianca says, her amusement betrayed by the dimples that she fails to suppress.

As the screen door shuts, Bianca can still hear Courtney’s laughter floating through the air.

***

“Hey Court, do you want to-” Bianca stops, leaning on the door frame, pressing her lips together to keep from laughing.

Courtney is in the middle of the room, airpods in, rocking out to some music that only she can hear. Without the accompanying audio, she looks possessed, gyrating like a madwoman. Bianca manages to catch almost 30 seconds of this bizarre show, dimples getting deeper and deeper, before Courtney spots her, gasping in surprise.

“Oh my god!” Courtney pulls out one of her airpods, breathing hard. There’s a light sheen of sweat on her forehead, “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Bianca isn’t the least bit sorry. She’s wildly entertained, in fact. “Why the silent disco?”

“I was trying to keep it down...”

“You know, you’re allowed to play music in your own house.”

“I know, but…you were working.” Courtney offers a little shrug, and Bianca can’t help the overwhelming affection that floods through her.

“Thanks. Well...regardless, it was quite a show.”

“Oh yeah?” Courtney poses, hand on her hip, “You liked it?”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” she teases, grinning at Courtney’s look of feigned offense.

“Maybe next time you’ll join in.”

“Unlikely.”

“Mm...I’ll take that as a challenge,” Courtney laughs, eyes crinkling.

***

Bianca sits on the sofa in Bob’s office, fingers twisting a tissue in her hand. She doesn’t like the question that’s being posed to her, doesn’t know what to say. Bob repeats it, slightly differently, hoping for a response.

“Why do you think you can’t you say the word?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“How does it make you feel when I say it?” she asks.

“Um...ashamed. Like, how did I let it happen for so long? But also, kind of pissed...I don’t want to be a victim.”

“Well, you’re not a victim. You know, most people-” Bob pauses, adding, “-most women...they don’t leave. They stay. You left. You’re already well on your way towards starting a new life. You’re not a victim. You’re a survivor.”

Bianca nods, not quite believing her. There’s a familiar tingling in her fingers and toes, and she flexes her hands, shifting on the sofa, trying to get more comfortable.

“What’s going through your mind?”

Bianca bites her lip. It’s very unlike her to be at a loss for words, but that’s how she feels more often than not in this setting. There’s so much pressure to understand, to carefully deconstruct her thoughts in a way that she’s not accustomed. Usually, she speaks first and thinks later. That doesn’t work in here.

“I get what you mean...but I did stay. For over twelve years. That’s...we didn’t even get married until almost two years ago, we had no kids, nothing was keeping me. And now…” Her voice breaks. She pauses, gulping down some of her water.

Bob waits patiently, hands folded and head tilted. The picture of empathy. Bianca hates it; nothing makes her feel more broken inside than being looked at like that.

“What the fuck is wrong with me? Why did I stay?” Tears brim in her eyes.

“Why are you so determined to blame yourself?”

“Because I...wasn’t a prisoner. I could have left, anytime-”

“Really?”

“Uh, yeah.” Bianca’s brow furrows in confusion.

“There’s more than one kind of prison, Bianca. Emotional abuse...it’s very tricky. It’s seduction and manipulation and torture all at the same time. The entire goal is to make you feel like you can’t trust your own reality. That you are, in fact, the one in charge, the one doing the manipulating. It is...it’s a waking nightmare.”

Bianca nods again, still feeling that burning shame coursing through her.

“And you woke up. The hardest part is behind you. I promise.”

“I don’t…” Bianca shakes her head. “I don’t believe you.”

“Okay...fair enough. I guess time will tell, huh?”

Bianca laughs through her tears.

“I guess so.”

***

“Dear god…” Bianca looks down at the shopping cart, nearly full to the brim, as she follows Courtney through the aisles of Whole Foods.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s just...so much! Why are you letting me buy all this?!”

“You think I’m gonna tell you that you can’t have something?” Courtney laughs.

“There are 5 different kinds of cheese in here!”

“You like cheese,” Courtney reasons, leaning over the back of the cart, placing a loaf of whole grain bread in the bag.

“I know, but you’re supposed to stop me!” Bianca exclaims.

“Yeah? What should I say? ‘I’m sorry, Ms. Del Rio, but we’ve hit the cheese quota today, you’ll have to put that back…’”

“No, just…” Bianca groans. “Remind me that I’m getting fat.”

Courtney folds her arms, a look of disapproval on her face.

“Excuse you-”

“Come on, seriously, I’m not supposed to be gaining this much, this early, I look like-”

Bianca’s cut off by a hand on her shoulder. Courtney’s walked around the cart and now staring her square in the face.

“You’re beautiful.”

“I am not-”

“Are so,” Courtney insists, voice soft and firm. “You’re beautiful, and you’re creating life. Say it. ‘I am beautiful and I am creating life-’”

“No,” Bianca answers, struggling to keep the smile from pulling at her mouth.

Courtney steps closer.

“Say it.” Her voice is practically a growl now.

“I...am beautiful and I am creating life.” Bianca manages to squeeze an eye roll in as well, which Courtney chooses to ignore, lips pursed in a self-satisfied smirk.

“Good girl,” she breathes, giving Bianca a pat on the ass before turning and flouncing back through the bakery, holding up a plastic package, asking sweetly, “Muffins?”

***

ALASKA: Hey, B. Willam told me that you and Jared are splitting up. I hope you’re okay. I think I might be able to help. Call me anytime if you want to discuss. <3

Bianca stares at her phone, unsure of what to do. After all, she hasn’t spoken to Alaska since that fateful night of the barbecue. And what if it’s some kind of trap...Jared standing over her shoulder, just waiting for the return call, or listening in?

She shakes her head. There’s a possibility that Willam would be involved in something devious like that, but not Alaska. Nonetheless, she doesn’t call right away. She stresses about it for a few hours first before finally settling down at her sewing table to dial, heart in her throat.

“Hey, I’m glad you called. How are you?”

Alaska’s voice is so gentle, so filled with warmth, that Bianca feels a twinge of guilt for doubting her intentions.

“Hi. Sorry for the delay, I’m at work, and-”

“No worries! I’m working too, so...I won’t keep you long, I promise. I just wanted to let you know that...Willam told me that Jared’s been saying some kind of troubling things at work, and he’s 100% willing to make a statement about it, or like, talk to your lawyer. If you want.”

“What kind of things?” Bianca can feel her heart speed up, her cheeks getting hot.

“Um…things like ‘this isn’t over’ and ‘I’ll show her’ and…” Alaska sighs, “I guess it doesn’t sound that bad, but like...I dunno, it made Will uncomfortable, and he’s pretty laid back. Maybe it was more like...the demeanor? You can totally talk to him directly if you want, but I thought it would be better if I reached out first. You know...girl to girl.”

“I really appreciate that...but...why? I mean...thank you but, why would he do this? Jared is his boss, his boy, I-” Bianca sniffles.

“Well...yeah, but. I mean, he likes you. And he’s pretty disturbed by some of the things Jared says to him, so…”

“God. I’m such an idiot.” Bianca wipes her eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“When I first met you, I felt sorry for you. I thought that Willam was this giant douchebag, and didn’t understand what you saw in him, and...” Bianca trails off.

“Look, I get it. Willam’s a dumbass sometimes,” Alaska says with a chuckle. “But...he’s a good person. And he just wants to help, if he can. We both do.”

“Thank you, Alaska. Really, I...thank you.”

“Anytime. Take care, B.”

***

“...and so, obviously I’m glad he’s listening, but...I don’t know, it’s a little weird that he’s gone so...radio silent, you know? It makes me a little...anxious. I guess. Especially after what Alaska said.” Bianca hugs the pillow in her lap.

“That’s understandable,” Bob says. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I thought that’s what I was paying you for,” Bianca says, eyebrow arching up.

Bob laughs. “That was rhetorical, but thanks for keeping me in line.”

“What’s your question?”

“Do you miss him?”

Bianca is a bit taken aback. They’ve spent the last month discussing how horrible her marriage was. She still has to choke back vomit every time she says the word ‘abuse.’ Does she miss him? Is Bob crazy?

“It’s very common,” Bob explained, seeing the confused and slightly horrified look on her face. “A lot of women have trouble adjusting to life outside of that dynamic. They convince themselves that it wasn’t that bad. Many even go back. Does any of that sound...familiar?”

Just outside the window, a pair of fluffy white clouds float lazily in the air. They’re so white and perfect, they look like a cartoon. Bianca watches them, listens to the birds chirping and the not too distant sound of kids splashing in a pool...a lawnmower. She turns back to Bob, shaking her head.

“No. Not...not at all.”

“Okay.” Bob makes a note on her pad, and Bianca grows a little antsy in her seat.

“Is that weird? I feel like...sometimes it feels like it wasn’t even real. Like...how was that over 10 years of my life? Because...I barely remember it now, unless I really concentrate. And even then…”

“It’s not weird. It’s just another way of coping.”

“Right now I’m having a hard time even...picturing his face clearly. I...definitely don’t want to go back. The idea of being in the same room together is…” Bianca swallows.

“But you’re having a child together.”

Bianca closes her eyes. “Yeah. He still...doesn’t know about that.”

“Does that worry you?”

“Um...I don’t...yeah, a little. But I think that he’ll...he might be a decent father. He really wants to be, so…” Bianca dabs at the corner of her eyes. “Asia said that we can ask for a therapeutic mediator, so that we can work out all our bullshit on our own.”

“You’ll have to be in the same room for that.”

“I know.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“Nervous. But...I just keep telling myself that all of this is for the baby. So...it’s worth it. I can do it.”

“Of course you can,” Bob nods, giving her an encouraging smile.

“Do you think...will it ever be easy? Will I ever be able to face him without...feeling sick?”

Bob tilts her head, pausing thoughtfully before responding.

“If you really work at it, anything is possible.”

“Wow. Way to not commit to an answer, Bob,” Bianca says, getting a spirited laugh in return.

“That might be a good place to end for today,” she says, gesturing to the clock. “I’ll work on a more committed answer.”

“Yeah, do that.” Bianca’s dimples pierce her cheeks as she rises from the couch.

“See you next week?” Bob gets up from her chair and follows her to the door.

“Yeah,” Bianca says, then adds a soft, “Thanks.”

Bob smiles, reaching for the door, pausing when Bianca misunderstands the action and gives her an awkward fist bump.

“Well, alright then,” Bob says kindly, as Bianca cringes. “See you soon.”

***

“So...what are we looking for?” Courtney asks.

Bianca stands in the middle of Third Street, eyes darting around the bustling shopping center. She’s aware that this is the last place that Courtney would normally go willingly--the bougiest part of Santa Monica, full of tourists and ladies who lunch and harried, put upon retail employees. But she’s determined to find something special for Latrice, something she can give her on the morning of her wedding. She feels like she’s really dropped the ball as far as Maids of Honor go, barely helping with anything at all.

“I...don’t know, exactly. I just want her to know that I…” Bianca’s eyes fill with those cursed hormonal tears.

“Alright. Maybe…we just wander?” Courtney smiles at her and puts a reassuring hand on the small of her back, guiding her towards a jewelry cart up the road. “That cart looks cute, let’s start there.”

It could be the late summer heat, but Bianca feels like her skin is nearly burning where Courtney’s touching her. Especially at the hem of her shirt, where one fingertip is in contact with Bianca’s skin. She tries to stand up straight, muscles flexing against Courtney’s hand, a feeling of indescribable loss when she takes it away. Which is almost immediately followed by euphoric joy moments later when Courtney grasps her hand and lets out a squeal of excitement.

“Omigod, B, look!” she cries, pulling her towards a shoe store window, where a tiny pair of glittery rainbow cowboy boots are on display. “Elle Macpherson Del Rio NEEDS those boots!”

Bianca laughs and follows her to the window, seeing her eyes lit up in the reflection.

“Very cute.”

“Sorry, I know this is like, an immediate deviation from your agenda, but...they are bloody fantastic. Right? Even if you didn’t want a baby it would be worth it to have one, just to get those.”

Bianca continues to chuckle, gripping Courtney’s hand tightly.

“So...I guess we’re hoping for a girl, then?”

“No, not necessarily.” Off Bianca’s raised eyebrow, she adds, “Well, why should girls have all the fun clothes?! Guy Pierce Del Rio can totally wear them too.”

“Hashtag equality?”

“Exactly.” Courtney flashes a dazzling grin and pulls her into the store. “Come on!”

Bianca continues to hold onto Courtney’s hand as she follows her into the store. It occurs to her that standing this way, fingers laced together, people will probably assume that they’re a couple. The thought fills her with nervous, fluttery excitement - the kind that she hasn’t felt for what seems like the longest time.

As Courtney chats casually with the sales clerk about the best size to buy, Bianca steps closer, wrapping her free hand around her arm and leaning a head on her shoulder. It might be slightly childish, but she wants no mistake in anyone’s mind.

Mine.

#rpdr fanfiction #bianca del rio #courtney act #bitney #bob the drag queen #asia o'hara #alaska thunderfuck #lesbian au #fluff #angst #undone #stephanie #veronica #tw emotional abuse #tw ptsd #concrit welcome

25 notes · View notes

steebrogurz · 6 years ago

Text

Is It Still Me That Makes You Sweat?

Summary: you meet a stranger in a bar and make some questionable choices.

warnings: cheating, smut,

Word count: 3180

a/n: this was inspired by Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off by Panic! at the Disco and real life events....sorry, not sorry

More Wit

The bar was busy tonight.

It was always busy when live music played and shots were three dollars. The air was hot and sticky from the bodies moving to the music and you loved it. You were in your element pouring drinks and flirting shamelessly for tips from the men who came through.

At this point in the night your boyfriend, Ben, would be at home asleep. He was always sleeping. He would come home from work and fall asleep on the couch everyday, without fail. This had been going on for two out of the three years you were together. You barely had sex anymore and it wasn’t for lack of trying; you surprised him with candle lit dinners, you wore lingerie, you touched yourself in front of him. His response to each and every attempt? “I’m not really in the mood,” before easing himself onto the couch in front of the tv and promptly falling asleep. Every time you tried to talk to him about it and figure out what was going on he'd simply say “don’t worry about it,” and each time, your heart would crumble just a little bit more. But you loved him, so you stayed.

He was a good guy and you could talk to him about your interests and you both got excited about the same things and he worked hard for the two of you; which would be nice if it wasn’t at a dead end job, getting paid barely above minimum wage that he had no desire of leaving. Sure, bartending wasn't the most distinguished or sophisticated of jobs either but you were good at it and this was just until you finished school. You had friends here and you'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the way people looked at you with that hungry look in their eye that told you they wanted to take you home.

You were tempted. Fuck, you were tempted. Someone would look at you just right. Say all the right things and your heart would race imagining how their hands would feel on your body, touching your skin. Every night you were tempted. And every night thoughts of Ben would enter your mind, clearing your thoughts and bringing you back to reality.

Until He walked into the bar.

Six feet tall, broad shoulders, muscular arms, with bright blue eyes and an even brighter smile. You watched him laugh with his friends and you could feel your legs grow weak. He broke from his group and made his way to you with determination in his step and you gave him a practiced smile as he approached.

“What can I get for you?”

He looked at you with that same hunger in his eyes that you saw from so many others. “Your boyfriend know you’re here lookin' like this?” He asked once he reached the bar

Your smile widened into mischievous grin as you leaned forwards onto the bar that separated the two of you. “What my boyfriend knows isn’t your concern. Now, what can I get for you?” You repeated. When he didn’t answer right away you pushed yourself from the bar. “When you figure it out let me know.” You turned to walk away but stopped when you felt a warm hand on your own sending fire through your veins.

“Two beers.” He released your hand and held up a twenty.

You set the two drinks on the counter and pull the money from his hand making sure to just barely graze his fingers with your own. You reveled in the look on his face as he watched you push the bill into your bra and wink at him before walking away to get his change.

Better Kiss

By the end of your shift your feet hurt and you breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped out of the bar. You stood by the door with your eyes closed taking deep breaths letting the cool autumn air wash over you. A couple of the girls you worked with walked out after you and after hugging them goodbye you turned down to the street towards the bus stop.

“Your boyfriend know you walk home alone?”

You jump slightly at the voice behind you and turn to see Him leaning against the wall of the bar like a goddamn cliche. It took you a second to recover but once you did a sultry smile spread across your lips and you squared your shoulders.

“Like I said before, what my boyfriend knows isn’t your concern.” You met his gaze and almost choked on the air in your lungs. His eyes were blue but under streetlight they were clearest blue you had ever seen.

He straightened up, smiling at you and keeping your eye contact. “Then I guess he wouldn't mind if I walked with you?”

The question caught you off guard and looking into those ocean blue eyes wasn't helping either. “I- I don't walk home with guys I don't know.”

“I'm Bucky.” He said quickly sticking his hand to you.

You reached out to shake his hand and that same fire from before ignited in your chest and spread through your entire body. “Y/N.” You released his hand and started walking again waving for him to join you.

As the two of you walked you were very aware of how close he was and every once in a while a light breeze would waft his cologne in your direction making your head spin and your heart would start to beat faster and faster. You were almost to the bus stop when you passed a 24 hour diner and an idea struck you.

“I could use a milkshake. What about you?”

Bucky looked over and smiled. “Yeah, sure.”

The diner was empty when you entered and you ordered two milkshakes and a plate of fries, but before you could pull your wallet out of your purse Bucky already had his out and is paying for the order. “I couldn't buy you a drink at the bar so I'm buying it here.” He winked and you can't help but giggle. You wait at the counter for your order and when it arrives you sit at a small table sipping your drinks and picking at the fries.

Bucky peers at you from across the table. “You're very beautiful, Y/N.”

You almost choke on your milkshake and give a nervous laugh. Your cool attitude from earlier disappearing almost completely. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” You watch as a dazzling smile spreads across his face.

“Only the ones I get milkshakes with at 2 in the morning.” He was still looking at you as he spoke which made your heart race and your skin heat up.

Once the fries and milkshakes were finished, you both stepped back outside into the cool night air. “I love this time of night.” You tilted your head back to gaze up at the stars in the night sky.

“Why's that?”

“Because the world is so still. Like it's frozen in time, like nothing that happens now will have any effect on tomorrow.” Your gaze is still on the stars as you speak until you feel Bucky take a step closer to you.

He's so close you can feel the heat radiating off of him and you look down into his blue eyes. Without another word he slips a hand around your waist and presses his lips to yours. The world around you disappears and all you can think about is him, his lips, his hands on your waist and without thinking you wrap your arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

Hotter Touch

Your legs grow weak as his tongue grazes your bottom lip. One of his hands pulls the hem of your shirt up ever so slightly allowing his fingers to make contact with the sliver of exposed skin. His touch sets your skin on fire and he pulls your shirt up higher slipping his hand under the fabric and around your back holding you to him.

A soft cool breeze hits your exposed skin and you break the kiss. Leaning back to look back at him you shake your head. “Not like this, not here.”

“I live a block away,” he's breathless, his eyes search your face for any sign of rejection but you only smile at him.

“Lead the way.”

Bucky smiles in return and pulls you forward down the street occasionally stopping to press his lips to yours. Within five minutes you're crashing through the door. You drop your purse and kick off your shoes as his lips find their way to your neck. He pulls you further into the apartment and through the door to his bedroom. His lips crashing into yours again, he lifts your shirt up over your head and you get to work undoing your jeans but before you can get them off he falls back onto his bed pulling you down with him.

You let you a small squeal as you put your hands out to catch yourself from head butting him. You reposition yourself so that you're straddling Bucky’s hips as you lean over him as he smiles up at you and you pause. The weight of what you’re doing suddenly hits you, leaning back and rake your hands through your hair.

“Wait, I shouldn’t be doing this.” You get off and sit on the bed beside him haunted by thoughts of Ben asleep in your own bed. “I should go.” With a grimace you stand up and start to look around for your shirt. You spot it in the corner but before you can get to it Bucky is standing behind you as his hand lightly grazes your back and a shiver runs up your spine. He pinches the clasp of your bra and in a second the straps are falling away from your shoulders, you turn around as Bucky slowly dips his head and captures a nipple in his mouth and you gasp. Your head spins as his tongue swirls around your nipple teasing you with his teeth. His hands move from your waist to your thighs and in one movement he picks you up and sets you down on the desk behind you.

“I want to taste you.” He whispers, the look he gives you drives you insane. All you can think about is his touch and how alive it makes you feel.

You give a breathless “uh huh,” as you start pulling your pants off and as soon as they’re on the floor along with your panties Bucky kneels down and buries his face between your legs. A whimper escapes your lips as you feel his hot breath dance across your skin. He pushes your legs apart then reaches up to tease a nipple as he laps at your folds. His tongue circles your clit and you let out a gasp tangling your fingers in his hair. Warmth blooms in your stomach and quickly spreads to the rest of your body. “Fuck!” You moan which only spurs him on, his movements quicken and you can feel your orgasm building.

It had been so long since someone other than yourself made you feel like this. “Don’t stop. I’m gonna cum!” A growl sounds from deep within Bucky's chest and he brings his hand from your nipple to push a finger inside you while keeping a steady rhythm with his tongue. The sensation of his fingers inside you push you over the edge. Slow waves of pleasure wash over you, your legs clench around his head holding him in place as your body trembles from your orgasm. You lean back against the wall breathing heavily as you come down from your high and after a few seconds you look down to see Bucky still between your legs. He presses a kiss to your inner thigh before standing up and placing both hands on the desk on either side you, trapping you in.

“Do you still want to go, Doll?” He asks with a laugh in his voice.

It takes a few more seconds for you to catch your breath enough to answer him. When you do you hum and grin at him, “fuck me.”

Better Fuck

Bucky’s smile mirrors yours as he catches your lips in another crushing kiss that all but takes your breath away. He pulls his shirt up over his head as you focus on unbuttoning his pants and pulling them down. Once he's free of his clothes he opens a drawer in search of a condom and you're finally able get a good look at the body hidden under the clothes. You knew from before that he was muscular but you were not prepared for how muscular he really was. Your eyes roam over the planes of his chest down to his abs. Every bit of him looks rock solid and like he could break you in half in he wanted. You let out shuddering breath as you watch him move and can feel heat rise in your cheeks.

Before you know it he’s rolled the condom on and is standing in front of you again gripping your thighs.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good baby girl.” His voice was husky and sounded almost an octave lower than usual. And, oh god, his eyes looked like they were peering into your soul, like he could see your every desire and wanted to fill every one of them.

You let out something between a gasp and a moan as he slowly pushed himself into you filling you up to the point where you weren't sure if you could take anymore of him. He was so much bigger than you were used to, you’ve never said this to anyone before but Ben wasn’t the biggest. But Bucky stretched you out to the point where it was almost painful and you loved it. One hand moved to your hip while the other moved to support your back as he thrust into you savouring the feeling just as you were.

“Fuck you feel amazing!” He grunted between thrusts and you cried out in pleasure as he started to pick up speed and power. His hips crashed into your thighs and you just knew there’d be bruises later.

You tried to reply but you couldn’t think of anything else other than how it felt to have this kind of power inside you. You wrapped your legs around Bucky's waist and without missing a beat he picked you up and brought you to the bed. He grasped your wrists in one hand and brought them up above your head pinning them in place all while keeping a steady rhythm. With his other hand he reaches over and wraps it around your throat applying just enough pressure for excitement to spark in your eyes but not enough to cut off your breathing.

Warmth blooms in your stomach again making your legs weak but you held on. Reaching up you claw at his back eliciting a sinful groan to fall from his lips. He thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and expertly flips you onto your knees and pushes into you again. You arch your back and gasp at the sweet sting of his hand slapping your ass.

“You like that?” He croons.

You moan in response and he grabs a fistful of your hair and spanks you again.

“Use your words, doll.”

“Yes!” You cry out. “Fuck Bucky, I love it.”

A low growl escapes him as he pounds into you. “That's it doll, scream my name.” His fingers dug into the skin of your hips and you moaned again.

“Don't stop Bucky! I'm gonna come!” Your legs trembled.

“Come for me, doll. I want to feel your orgasm around my cock!” His hand snaked around your waist and his deft fingers found your clit again, gently rubbing small circles around your swollen nub that pulsed through your whole body.

Your second orgasm is much more powerful as it shot through you like lightning in your veins. You felt Bucky press his face to your back as he came shortly after, and with a few more thrusts you both collapsed on the bed breathing hard and slicked with sweat.

You rolled onto your back and laid there gazing at the ceiling as you came down from your high. After a minute your head clears and a mixture of guilt and shame settles in your stomach like a lead weight as you got up and searched for your clothes.

“Where's your bathroom?”

Bucky sat up and watched as you moved around the room gathering your things. He pointed to the door to his room. “On your left.”

You mumbled a thanks then rushed out of the room and locked the bathroom door. The wood is hard against your back as you lean against it for support and clutch your stomach as if you might throw up. “What the fuck have you done.” You mutter to yourself as you got dressed and examined yourself in the mirror. You splashed some cold water on your face which helped to cool you down and ran your fingers through your hair before pulling it back into a messy bun.

When you finally leave the bathroom you find Bucky in his small kitchen filling a glass with water. He's now wearing a pair of loose fitting sweatpants. Your heart jumps with excitement when you see him then the shame and guilt from earlier twists your stomach again.

“Hey doll.” A smile spreads across his face as soon as he sees you. “You want some water?”

“Uh, no. Thank you, I gotta go.” You pick up one of your shoes and slip it on as you search the floor for the other.

“Back to your boyfriend?” Bucky's expression is hard to read and another pang of guilt twisted your stomach. You nod giving him a small smile.

“Yeah, there's something I need to do.” You went back to searching for your other shoe as panic slowly begins to rise in your chest when you can't find it. You needed to get home.

“Hey, have you seen-” your other shoe appears in front of you and you mumbled a thanks. Once both shoes are on you pick up your purse and faced Bucky. “Thanks for, um, this.” You awkwardly gesture between the two of you.

Bucky placed his hands on either side if your face and pulled you in for one last kiss. Your heart hammered in your chest as his lips moved against yours with the same amount of passion he had just displayed not 15 minutes ago. “Can I see you again?” He asked when you reluctantly pulled away.

“You know where I work,” you teased with a sly smirk. With one more kiss to his cheek you turned and walked out, back to your apartment to do something you should've done a long time ago.

a/n: please let me know what you think :) comments are always welcome

#Bucky Barnes x Reader #Bucky smut #James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #bucky x female reader #bucky x you #marvel #the winter soldier #panic! at the disco

31 notes · View notes