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olivialau · 25 days

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Shadow's Embrace Ch.22

Sukuna x Reader

Disclaimer:

This is a work of fanfiction based on the universe of "Jujutsu Kaisen," created by Gege Akutami. The original manga, anime, and characters belong to their respective owners and creators.

Notes:

This story unfolds in the Jujutsu Kaisen world, set in a slightly altered universe where Sukuna inhabits his own vessel distinct from Itadori Yuji's body, making him a separate entity.

Summary:

Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, becomes fascinated with a female sorcerer rich in potential but lacking control. Initially seizing her for his destructive plans, Sukuna aims to bind her abilities through a contract. Yet, as he tries to dominate her, he finds himself intrigued by her strength and determination. Over time, his interest evolves from strategic advantage to a deeper, personal connection.

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CHAPTER 22 - Liquid Courage

The evening air bit at your skin as you stomped out the alleyway, your breath still coming in short, angry puffs.

But the cold wasn’t nearly enough to cool the fire raging in your chest.

It wasn’t just his harsh and cruel words that fueled your anger—it was the way he cast a toxic shadow over everything that mattered to you, poisoning every thought, every moment, every connection you tried to hold dear.

You desperately felt you needed to reclaim something—anything—of your own. If you couldn’t confront Sukuna’s power directly, then at least you could defy it in some small way. You deserved that much, didn’t you? A few hours of freedom, away from his suffocating presence.

With determination settling in, you reached for your phone, scrolling through your contacts. Your thumb hovered over Itadori’s name, and the thought of his infectious smile softened the sharp edges of your anger, just a little.

You hit the call button, and the rhythmic ringing on the other end seemed to mirror the pounding of your heart—until it stopped abruptly.

“Hey! What’s up?” Itadori’s voice came through, bright and familiar. It was just what you needed right now.

“Itadori, hey,” you said, your own voice still rough from the earlier confrontation. “I was thinking of grabbing some dinner. Are you free? Maybe we could drag Megumi and Kugisaki along too?”

There was a slight pause, and you could almost picture him, his face lighting up at the prospect of food and company. “Yes, that sounds great! There’s this new fried chicken place I’ve been dying to try—they’ve got a promo meal for Earth Worm 4, and—”

“Perfect!” you cut in before he could ramble on about this godforsaken movie he’d already told you the entire premise of days ago. “Text me the address, and I'll meet you there in thirty minutes.”

“Will do! I’ll make sure to get Megumi and Kugisaki on board too,” Itadori added, his grin so vivid you swear you could see it through the phone.

With that, Itadori hung up, and within moments, a text with the address pinged onto your screen. You set out toward the location, hoping the evening would be enough to distract you from the storm raging inside.

But as you walked, your fists kept clenching involuntarily, your thoughts spiraling back to the confrontation with Sukuna. That taunting grin, those hollow crimson eyes devoid of any understanding—they haunted you, replaying in your mind like a relentless, mocking echo.

In a surge of frustration, you lashed out at an empty soda can, sending it skittering across the pavement with a loud clatter. “Fuck him!” you shouted, the words echoing off the walls around you.

As if on cue, someone rounded the corner just in time to witness your outburst. You quickly ducked your head, embarrassed at being caught mid-tantrum, and hurried on your way, hoping to put as much distance as possible between yourself and that moment.

You arrived at the restaurant not long after, spotting Itadori, Megumi, and Kugisaki already settled in a booth near the window.

They waved as you approached, but their attention quickly returned to the menus in their hands, their hungry eyes carefully scanning the options.

“Hey, girly!” Kugisaki greeted, her smile bright as she moved her bag to make room for you. “We’re starving. Good timing.”

You chuckled, sliding into the booth beside her. “Glad I could make it before you all wasted away.”

“Perfect timing, really,” Megumi added. His tone was as dry as ever, though a hint of mischief sparkled in his eyes. “Itadori was about to start gnawing on the table.”

Itadori pouted. “Hey, I’ve been good! I waited.” His eager wave toward the waiter, however, revealed just how much he was looking forward to finally placing an order.

The restaurant buzzed with life, the clatter of dishes and the murmur of conversations blending into a comforting hum. It struck you then just how long it had been since you’d last enjoyed the simple, comforting sounds of normalcy—far removed from the world of curses and jujutsu.

Before long, plates of crispy, golden fried chicken arrived, each piece steaming hot and perfectly seasoned. The table quickly filled with the sounds of enthusiastic chewing, bursts of laughter, and the occasional playful argument over who got the last wing.

For brief moments, you almost forgot about Sukuna entirely. Though your vigilance kept you glancing over your shoulder now and then, just in case he decided to make an unexpected entrance and tear the place apart.

As the evening wore on, Itadori and Kugisaki exchanged a mischievous look, the kind that always meant trouble with those two. Kugisaki leaned in with a smirk. “You know what would go perfectly with this chicken? A nice, cold beer.”

You raised an eyebrow, catching on immediately. “You mean so you all can sneak a taste, don’t you? You’re all too young to order, but not too young to mooch off me?”

Itadori didn’t even bother denying it, his grin widening. “Just a taste! We’ve got to at least try it.”

Kugisaki, in turn, added a dramatic pout to her plea. “Come on, don’t be such a buzzkill.”

With a resigned sigh, you waved over the waiter. “Fine, I’ll order one. But just one sip each, got it?”

When the waiter asked if you wanted a small or large, you opened your mouth to order the small, but Kugisaki cut you off in the middle. “She’ll have a large!”

Itadori snickered at your expense, and even Megumi’s lips twitched in what might have been the hint of a smirk. You shot Kugisaki a mock glare, but in the end, you relented. “A large it is, then.”

When the beer arrived, it was surprisingly refreshing, and you found yourself downing it faster than you’d expected. True to your word, you allowed each of them a sip—no more, no less—before finishing it off.

The beer, coupled with the easy company, started to slowly loosen you up, and with each sip, laugh, and shared memory, the anger and anxiety that had plagued you earlier seemed to melt away.

Before you knew it, another beer was ordered, and then another, and another.

The conversation shifted to tales of your drunken escapades with Ayumi, and Itadori and Kugisaki couldn't resist egging you on, daring you to prove your claim of being able to chug a beer in one go. A large glass was soon placed in front of you, the golden liquid glistening temptingly under the warm restaurant lights. You knew it was a bad idea, but the night had already taken on a carefree momentum, so why resist?

By the time the clock struck ten, your legs felt wobbly, and your thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy. The day’s worries had lifted, replaced by a warm, hazy feeling that made it incredibly easy to smile, to laugh, and to forget.

Megumi, who often took on the responsibility for the group, noticed you were getting progressively more drunk and gently suggested it might be time to call it a night. “You’ve got classes tomorrow, and I doubt you want to show up smelling like a brewery.”

You wanted to protest, to stay in this pleasant bubble of peace a little longer, but deep down, you knew he was right. It was better to end the night here. After all, you still had to face him when you got home.

After paying, you and the others stepped out into the cool night air. They offered to walk you home—a sweet gesture, but the thought of what might happen if they ran into Sukuna made your stomach twist.

You shook your head firmly, nearly losing your balance. “No, it’s okay. I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to drag you guys out of your way. I’ll be fine.”

They exchanged concerned glances, but after you insisted, they agreed. “Alright, but take care of yourself, and text us when you get home,” Kugisaki said, giving you a stern look and a pointed wave of her finger.

You watched them go, with a mix of gratitude and lingering warmth in your chest. The street outside was quiet as you began your walk back to the apartment. Your steps were slightly unsteady but your mood was lighter than it had been in a long time.

As you wandered through the streets, you embraced the solitude—the simple pleasure of being just another person walking home after a night out. It felt incredibly, beautifully normal.

Humming a tune, you let your steps take on a playful rhythm. But as you turned into an alleyway near your apartment, your easy spin came to an abrupt halt when you collided with something—or rather, someone.

The alcohol must have dulled your senses more than you realized, because you desperately wondered how you could have missed the overwhelming, suffocating cursed energy now looming before you.

And you knew—without a doubt—who was behind it.

Sukuna.

Slowly, and with great reluctance, you forced yourself to look up.

His crimson eyes burned into you with a rage so intense, it felt like the air around you might catch fire. This was different from anything you'd seen in him before—more all-consuming, more personal.

It truly felt like you were being swallowed whole.

In a flash, Sukuna's hand shot out, gripping your collar with an ironclad grasp. Before you could even react, he slammed you into the brick wall behind you with such force that the impact knocked the breath from your lungs. Pain flared up your spine as your vision swam, slowly coming back into focus.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Sukuna's voice was low and dangerous. His breath felt hot against your cheek as he leaned in close, his knuckles grazing your throat. "Who gave you permission to disappear all night, huh? Did you forget your place, you insolent brat?"

He inhaled deeply, and the sneer on his lips grew more pronounced as he caught the scent of your breath. "You even reek of booze. What a pathetic display."

Pressing his body against yours, he pinned you so tightly against the wall that you could barely breathe. "Nothing to say? Or did the alcohol fry what little brains you have?"

It wasn't fear that was driving you right now, not really. The many beers in your system had taken that fear, dampened it, and turned it into something else entirely: reckless anger. It drowned out the rational part of your mind, and without thinking, you drove your knee into his upper leg with all the strength you could muster.

"Fuck you! Get away from me!"

Sukuna's eyes widened in surprise for a split second. But the shock was fleeting, quickly replaced by a seething, murderous rage. "You little—" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead, his expression darkened dangerously, his grip on your collar tightening to the point where it felt like he might crush your windpipe.

A cold sweat broke out as you struggled for breath, realizing just how close you were to death.

In a desperate move, your hand scrambled for the cursed dagger Gojo had given you. With shaking fingers, you pulled it from its sheath at your ankle and thrust it between you and Sukuna.

Sukuna glanced at the dagger with a puzzled expression before erupting into mocking laughter that reverberated through the narrow alley.

“What’s that pathetic little toy supposed to do? Who gave you that?” he taunted, extending a hand to seize your wrist.

But you managed to dodge, awkwardly swinging the dagger in his direction. Your movements were slow and sluggish, dulled by the alcohol and the effects of his cursed energy, causing your strike to completely miss its mark.

However, your attempt did succeed in one thing—further fueling Sukuna’s rage.

He slammed you into the wall once more, pinning your hands above your head with one hand while effortlessly snatching the knife from your grasp with the other.

"I swear I'll kill you for that, little sorcerer."

You fixed him with the fiercest glare you could manage, and he met your eyes with an equally deadly stare. For what felt like an eternity, you locked eyes like this. It was as if an invisible thread stretched taut between your gazes, poised to snap at any moment.

"Shit, if you're gonna kill me, just do it. I have nothing left to lose—I threw it all away when I formed that damn contract with you," you spat as the thread finally snapped.

For a moment, something shifted in Sukuna's expression, his grip on your wrists tightening as he leaned in so close that you nearly fainted from the cursed energy he was forcing you to take in. He raised the cursed dagger to your throat, the blade cold against your skin as he pressed it there with just enough force to draw a thin line of blood.

This is it, you thought. He's really going to kill me this time.

You squeezed your eyes shut, thankful for the numbing effect of the alcohol. Somehow, it made the prospect of death a bit more bearable. But just as his grip on your wrists tightened to the point where you were sure they would snap, he released you and turned around, growling under his breath.

"Tsk. You're not even worth the effort."

His voice was grating and full of disdain, but there was something else there too—a certain frustration, an anger that seemed directed more at himself than at you. He stopped at the wall opposite from you, slamming his fist into it with such force that the entire building seemed to tremble.

For a moment, you were too stunned to react, your body trembling from the aftermath of adrenaline, alcohol, and cursed energy overload, all at once. But then something inside you rebelled—liquid courage, they call it? Or perhaps it was the simmering resentment that had been building for so long.

"What's the matter?" you taunted, taking a step forward despite the trembling of your legs. "Too scared to kill me? Some King of Curses you are."

Sukuna's back was still turned to you, but you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his entire body seemed to vibrate with barely contained rage. And then, to your surprise, he let out a harsh, bitter chuckle.

“Scared? Don’t be absurd,” he sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. “It’s not fear. It’s...”

He snickered to himself in frustration, his anger erupting as he threw another punch at the wall. The impact nearly shattered it, causing spiderweb-like cracks to spread across the entire side of the building.

“Every time I try to end your pathetic existence, it’s as if some damned force is holding me back. My chest feels like it’s weighted down, my movements stiffen.”

He kept his back turned, fists clenched tightly, as if gritting his teeth through an internal struggle. “Must be some strange side effect of the binding vow,” he muttered under his breath.

It was a surprisingly honest revelation, especially coming from him. Somewhat reassuring too, though you didn’t remember including any such conditions in the vow.

Maybe, for once, luck was simply on your side.

As you stared at his back, an odd impulse gripped you—to reach out and tug at his robe, to force him to face you. You desperately wanted to see his eyes, hoping that this unexpected honesty might reveal an unexpected trace of humanity as well. It was a desire you didn’t fully understand, especially amidst your anger. But it was a desire that was becoming increasingly more familiar to you.

Or perhaps it was just the alcohol clouding your judgment.

If not, you hoped Ayumi couldn’t witness you from the afterlife; she’d be deeply disappointed in how far your standards had fallen. Was a tiny glimpse of humanity really all it took for you to feel something...more, toward a monster like him?

God, you prayed it was just the alcohol.

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Thank you for reading everyone!!!❤️ This chapter made me wanna get drunk lol

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Taglist: @sukunasthightattoos , @tomiokasecretlover , @6demonize6me6 , @blindbabycadder , @domainofmarie , @marcoschuitmaker , @geniejunn , @chanaaaannel

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shirohige-pirates · 6 months

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Just Like Fire

CisFem Reader x Portgas D. Ace

CW: angst, language, erotic, violence, serial killer, stalking, poisoning, over-bearing controlling parents, attempted forced marriage, possible dub-con, Munchausen by proxy (aka Factitious Disorder), wildly cute and fluffy despite the warnings. 18+ only

Summary: You're Sabo's biological sister in this AU. After college you moved in with your dear brother and his two sworn brothers in order to avoid going back home. You and Sabo despise your family equally.

Tags: @fiestynatureweeb @nalleanna @airwolf92 @art3misa635 @sleepisfortheweakpooh @ghostfacefricker6969 @harahettania @mfreedomstuff

Chapter 22: 3 to 1

When you and Ace arrived at the All Blue it was still busy. You were there about ten minutes before closing and while no new customers were coming in, at least half the tables were still occupied. A severe-looking man with cropped green hair had been standing guard at the front doors, but he’d let you and Ace through.

“Zoro turns away customers for Sanji when the place gets busy to this point. Business is good, but getting your staff home at a decent hour is more important, at least to Lyn and Sanji.” Ace says as the two of you work your way through the restaurant to the bar.

The bartender that Ace had pointed out the last time gives you both a smile. “Ace, are you here to help close?” She asks and he nods.

“Sabo’s sister needed to talk to Sanji about something, so we volunteered to help free up some time for him, what can we do to help?”

“Ah, if you can get the tables and booths cleaned up that are empty, that’d help. Zoro can’t help until we can lock up, and we’re going to be a bit with the last few tables tonight.” She says, and looks toward you. “I’m Lyn.” She reaches out a hand, shaking yours.

“Quill,” you say. “Sabo’s mysterious sister.”

“Ever worked in a restaurant?” Lyn prompts, and you can tell from her grin she’s expecting you to say no before you even say it.

“Ah, no.”

Her grin breaks into a full smile. “It’s okay, there’s plenty of easy stuff to do. Our dishwasher could probably use an extra set of hands, how’re your shoes?”

“My shoes?” You question looking down. “I’ve got the sneakers I wore camping earlier on.”

“That’s good, better’n being in heels. I’ll introduce you, don’t worry, Duval’s bad at winking, but if you can help him stack trays he can get the dishes washed faster.” Lyn nods for you to follow her, lifting a section of the bar and having you come back.

The kitchen is brighter than the front of the house, and there’s almost eight other people back there. One of them is a tall man who would probably tower over Ace, with blond hair and a smile that seems a bit strained. Lyn introduced the two of you and had Duval show you how to stack trays so you could help him out.

It wasn’t difficult work, but it was more physical than you were used to. Grateful for your nap earlier and the fact that you weren’t fighting against your mother’s “medicine” anymore, you managed to be more of a help than hindrance; Duval only had to fix a couple of your trays.

Once the last of the customers are gone and the place is nearly closed up and cleaned, you, Ace, Lyn, and Sanji are sitting in a back booth while the last couple of employees finish up and leave.

“Luffy said something about you needing to ask about my brothers,” Sanji says, an apologetic look on his face. “He’s never been one for details, so I don’t know why you wanted to talk about them, but if there’s anything I can do to help you, it would be my pleasure.”

You smile, and then bite your lip a little. You make a few more gestures before Ace takes your hand in his and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

“I’m… technically, betrothed to Ichiji.” You finally manage to say and watch as both Lyn and Sanji’s eyes go wide and their jaws go slack. “Aside from the obvious fact that I don’t want to marry him, I’ve also recently learned that I am, in fact, cursed.”

Lyn’s mouth closes, but Sanji’s goes almost wider, he murmurs a swear under his breath in a foreign language and you nearly snort.

“My parents don’t know yet, and I don’t know what curse I have either,” you continue. “At least not yet, but my parents are my problem, and the details of my curse aren’t something I can control. What I need to know, what I was hoping you could tell me, was that if I tell Ichiji I’m cursed, what’s he possibly going to do?”

Sanji stares blankly for a moment, and then opens and closes his mouth a couple times before closing it and furrowing his brows. He’s quiet as he takes out a cigarette and lights it, barely inhaling before billowing smoker into the ceiling.

“Ichiji won’t marry someone who’s cursed.” He says flatly, but despite his words it doesn’t look like he’s thrilled about whatever else is on his mind. “What he’ll do in reaction is hard to say. He could lose his cool the moment you tell him, or he could decide he simply doesn’t care. The real problem would be the old man.

“Judge could make the whole thing a spectacle.” Sanji continues. “I don’t think he’d get the Celestials involved, but he could ask for heavy restitution from your family.” He pauses, shock crossing his face for a second before he takes another drag. “Er, if I can ask, how’d you learn you were cursed so late in life?”

“Oh, well… um. It seems my mother has been poisoning me most of my life,” you admit quietly. “And I think my curse saved me, but I was so weak I couldn’t do anything else with it.”

“Your mother did what?” Lyn questions before putting her hands over her mouth. “I’m sorry, I just, that’s horrible.”

“Haaa… yeah, and it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay what she did, but I mean, you don’t have to apologize.” You clarify.

“Well, if that’s the case I can’t imagine you’ll be upset if Judge goes for your family then.” He says with a shrug. “I could be there when you meet with Ichiji, if you want? I might be disowned, but I’m not disavowed, he can’t lash out at me without any repercussions.”

You shake your head. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t think he’s been particularly invested in any of this himself. He’s had a sense about Ace and I before I did, but even that didn’t bother him. He might be relieved, honestly.”

Sanji shakes his head. “No, relief isn’t really something he can feel. But you’re right, he might just not care.”

“The only thing that leaves then, is telling my parents.” You say, letting out a long slow breath and leaning your head on Ace’s shoulder.

“When are you meeting with Ichiji?” Sanji prompts and you look at your phone.

“Six hours? We’re supposed to meet for a brunch.” You answer.

“Ask him how far he had to travel,” Sanji says. “If he’s not in town for business and has been traveling just to meet with you, pay for that brunch yourself.” He asserts. “Even if he has been in town for business, you should still probably do that.”

“Will that help keep him calm?” You question, lifting your head off Ace’s shoulder.

Sanji nods. “Be extra polite.” He shudders. “Stoke his ego if you can manage it. He and the others are real bastards about rights versus commoners. I maintained my rights even though I didn’t want them because the Government stepped in, but with a curse… tch.”

“He’ll know that the government will bury my ties to my family.” You admit. “Yeah, I was already thinking about that. Not that it’ll make any difference if reparations are demanded.”

“You’re still royalty?” Ace questions, looking at Sanji.

Sanji shakes his head. “I sold my rights to fund this place.” He says. “But even with my rights sold my blood’s still legitimate. Ichiji and the others can’t treat me like a commoner without repercussions. Honestly, it might be the only reason the restaurant’s never been targeted.”

“But, two more months and it won’t matter.”

“Huh?” You and Ace make the same sound at the same time and Lyn and Sanji both smile.

“Germa’s only in town for another two months. With all the other islands and seas, they’ll probably never end up back on this island again.” He explains. “After that it won’t matter what my brothers think, they’ll be too far away to do anything about it.”

Ace sinks back into the booth, relaxing. “You scared me, I thought you two were going to sell the place and go elope or something.”

Lyn laughs. “We promise we’re not going to sell this place any time soon.”

“Noticing a distinct lack of promising to not elope.” You say, raising your brows a little and smiling.

Both of them flush and Sanji clears his throat. “Nami-swan and Robin-chan wouldn’t forgive us.” He insists, and Lyn nods.

“We don’t have plans to elope, but if we have to.” She lets the thought hang and you nod in understanding.

“Oh, uh, are you two busy on the fifteenth?” You question, shifting the conversation. “I figure the least I can do for all your help is invite you to enjoy delicious food with us as the 1st division celebrates my birthday. Though I suppose I could volunteer to help with closing a couple more times.”

“You’re welcome to help out here whenever you want, but it’s certainly not required. We’re both happy to have been able to help.” Lyn assures you.

“I’ll be happy to bring a large order of appetizers,” Sanji says, a bright smile on his face. “It’s been a while since I cooked for them.”

Ace puts his arms up in celebration. “I’ll let Thatch know, and he can work out the details with you.” Ace hugs you, his cheek pressed to yours. “Your first birthday here and we’re all gonna be so blessed.”

You could feel your face go hot at the exuberant display of affection, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. “You sound like Luffy.” You tease.

“Oh, we’re not going to be able to tell him about this. He’ll whine constantly for the next two weeks and then he won’t sleep the night before.” Ace sighs, nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck, not releasing his hug.

“A-Ace.” You stammer, you can feel the familiar sensation from before and you’re worried you’re going to set Sanji’s booth on fire.

Ace looks up and into your eyes and smiles as he lets go. “Oops.” He looks just about ready to lean in and kiss you, and you’re torn between wanting to let him, and not wanting to do so in front of others just yet.

“Look at you, positively smitten.” Lyn says, eyes on Ace. “If I remember correctly, you were in here just a few months ago -.”

“S-saying absolutely nothing interestin’!” Ace exclaims, giving you a little space without leaping fully to the other side of the seat.

“Ah, true. True.” She agrees with a grin. “I’m sure I have you mistaken with someone else who was ready to swear off all manner of love and dating. Dramatically convinced that there wasn’t any one in this whole wide world that was going to be able to-.”

“Lyn, mercy, please.” Ace begs.

You can feel the heat rolling off him as you turn your head, giving Ace a pointed stare while Lyn hums softly in amusement. To Ace’s credit he looked caught somewhere between embarrassed and adorable. He put his arms in front of his face to shield himself from the inquiring look you were giving him, and so you moved just a little bit closer.

“Don’t ignite.” You admonish, poking his side playfully and causing him to yelp.

“You’re in my restaurant,” Sanji starts, trying to cover the pink on his own face. “And I feel like I’m the one intruding.”

“Ah, ha ha, sorry about that.” You lean away from Ace. “With, with that we should probably get going. We’ve kept you both as it is.” You admit, scooting out of the booth.

Lyn hands you a card after she gets up. “The numbers for here, and both our personal cells.” She explains.

“If things go bad with Ichiji, let us know.” Sanji clarifies. “I can’t promise I’ll be able to do much, but I don’t want anyone in that family thinking they can do whatever they want.”

“Appreciated.” You tuck the card away, hoping that things go smoothly. You’re certain that Sabo would break the law without a second thought if Ichiji did anything, and you know Ace would too. There were too many people willing to step up for you, and considering the complications of nobility in relation to the laws, you were more worried for others than yourself.

#just like fire #portgas d ace #x reader #portgas d ace x reader #reader insert

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frost-queen · 2 years

Text

To be human (Reader!Anderson x Connor/RK800)

Requested by: @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr Forever tag: @missmelodramatic, @theletterhart, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly, @denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco @idkwhatmyusernameis, @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23

Connor came to a halt, seeing someone sit at Hank’s desk. She sat atop of his desk which was highly inappropriate. Connor adjusted his tie, his Led flickering between blue and red. He firmly walked up to the desk to give the girl a lesson in manners. – “I beg your pardon, but sitting on a desk is highly inappropriate. It increases bad posture.” – he said with a point with his finger. – “Besides this is not your desk. If you were to wait for Lieutenant Anderson, I suggest the waiting room in the front would be more suitable.” – he had come standing before you. You smiled as it confused the android for a moment. You hopped off the desk, coming to stand before him.

“So you are the droid Cyberlife send.” – you said, taking in his features very detailed. – “I’ve heard all about you.” – you tilted your head a bit to the side. Indeed you had heard so much about him, just not how extremely handsome he was. God, the one that created him sure knew what they were doing. Such dreamy features it made your heart thump just a bit louder. – “The waiting room if you please.” – Connor insisted politely. – “Yet I am more comfortable waiting here.” – you answered. – “I will not ask again. The waiting room if you require Lieutenant Anderson.” – he straightened his posture, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Y/n!” – you turned your head, seeing Hank approach arms open. – “Father!” – you exclaimed walking up to him. Connor staring in a state of shock at you hugging his partner. His led flickering a bright yellow at the newly information he just received. – “I see you’ve met Connor.” – your father spoke, returning to his desk with you. – “I hope he’s been polite to you.” – Hank gave Connor a glare. – “I must apologize I was not aware of this inf-“ – he said as you cut him off. – “He has been well mannered.” – you spoke over him with a warm smile.

Hank sat himself down as you came leaning against his desk near him. Connor sitting hesitantly down. His eyes fixated on you. Scanning and observing every little detail of your feature. If he looked closely, he could see resemblances with Lieutenant Anderson. Dececting you would probably look more similar to your mother than him. You noticed Connor staring at you, his led flickering. – “What is he doing?” – you asked your dad. Hank turned his head sighing loud.

“He’s scanning you.” – he said snapping his finger in front of Connor. – “Hey! Droid cut it out!” – he made clear as Connor blinked slowly coming back. – “We have a case to work on.” – he tapped his finger on Connor’s desk that aligned with his. – “Well, well If it isn’t Y/n Anderson.” – looking over your shoulder you saw Gavin approach. – “And I’m off.” – you called out. You gave your father a kiss on his forehead. Avoiding Gavin on your way out.

➤

You hadn’t heard from your father the entire day. It was night and you started to worry a bit. He didn’t pick up his phone or anything. You decided to go to the station, in the hope to find him there, working late hours. The station was nearly empty. Deserted at such an ungodly hour. A few late workers sitting at their desk or walking around with files in their hands. You exhaled disappointed seeing your dad’s desk was once again abandoned.

You walked over, sitting down in his chair to wait. Minutes ticked by as you started to get bored. Staring at the few pictures that hung at his board. You flipped up a letter seeing a picture of you and your dad when you were just a kid. No wonder Connor didn’t know you were his daughter when you first met him months ago. He had hidden that information for him. Sighing loud, you lowered the letter to shield the picture away once more.

Rolling the chair to the side, you took a look at Connor’s neatly tied up desk. You got up, going around. Letting your fingers go over the desk which he would’ve touched numerous times. The door opened as it startled you. Making you run back to your dad’s desk. The last thing you wanted was for Connor to know you were crushing on him.

A human crushing on an android. Where in the world would that fit. Some would find it inhuman, but you couldn’t deny how he made you feel. To your disapproval it was only Gavin entering. The moment he saw you, he went over. – “Ah Y/n! Finally here to see me.” – he said, looking all smug. You rolled your eyes. – “In your dreams Gavin.” – you answered. – “Aww c’mon Y/n, I know you’re here to see me.” – he came closer as you wanted to walk away, but he wouldn’t let you. Whichever side you took, he was there to block you.

“Real mature Gavin.” – you called out annoyed. – “I haven’t eaten yet…” – he started closing in on you. You got backed up against your father’s desk with little escape. – “I thought we could share a meal, have a drink, call it a date.” – he added making you look disgusted away. – “Gavin, I would appreciate it if you let me pass.” – you told him loud and clear.

He only chuckled moving his hands over to you. The moment his hands touched your hip, you fought with your hands to keep him back. – “Don’t be such a bore Y/n, I know you want this.” – he called out, touching you as you kept pushing his grabby hands off you. Off your shoulders, arms, and hip.

“Gavin!” – you said wanting to escape but there was no way out. Cornered by him. – “Gavin, stop!” – you called out giving him a hard push. He was smiling, finding himself amusing with the hold he had over you. – “Hands off!” – both of you suddenly heard loud and clear. Both turned your head seeing Connor walk in a firm pace over. Gavin groaned annoyed at Connor’s presence. – “Stay out of this robot. Why don’t you be a good android and make me a coffee.” – Gavin responded. Connor grabbed Gavin tight by his shoulder, pushing him off you.

Your eyes widened seeing his led flickering a bright red. – “You’ve been pissing me off for a long time, I’d appreciate it if you kept your hands off Y/n.” – Connor called out with a glare. Seeing him like this, did something to you. It made you take a deep breath to control the butterflies in your stomach that were bouncing around without a warning. – “You little shit!” – Gavin insulted ready to throw a punch. Connor ducked, avoiding being hit. Still low, he punched Gavin in his stomach. Shocked, you watched as Gavin dropped to the ground, groaning in pain. Connor turned his head, looking at you. The red in his led having settled for blue once more. – “Are you alright? I detect an increase in your heartbeat.”

You quickly nodded. Hoping so bad he wouldn’t detect the beating of your heart was not out of fear, but out of admiration for him. What he just did making you fall even deeper for him. – “Whe…where is my dad?” – you asked Connor, staring. – “Lieutenant Anderson decided to go home after we were done with the crime scene. He spoke about filing the report tomorrow. Should I escort you home?” – he answered dutiful.

Gavin got up to his feet, pulling you towards him. His little action made Connor clench his hand into a fist. Ready to throw another punch if he had to. – “I’ll take you home.” – he insisted. – “No thank you.” – you responded, taking your arm back. – “I prefer Connor to take me home.” – You walked over to Connor, standing beside him. – “You would prefer an android over me?” – Gavin shouted frustrated. – “Yes.” – you answered. Connor quirking up a little smile. Connor gave Gavin an expression full of mockery before going back outside with you.

The temperature had dropped, snow dartling down from the sky. – “I must apologize, I walked here since no buses ride this late and my car is in the garage for maintenance.” – you explained, wanting to let him know what he was in for. – “No problem, Y/n. Walks are very good for your health. I would even suggest to take a long route to keep the blood circulation running which will be rewarding when you get older.”

You chuckled at his overshared information. – “How about we just take the short route to stay warm?” – you suggested. – “Very good idea Y/n.” – he responded. Both of you started walking, heading in the direction of your home. Knowing your dad would be home before you. Connor was looking at you after a while. His eyes scanning your expression, your hands and the chill running down your spine. – “You are cold.” – he concluded.

You looked at him coming to a stop. – “Yes, but It’s not that far anymore.” – you answered. – “I suggest I use my hands to warm yours. You see I have a heat feature. Allow me to switch it on for you since normally I would not require this setting in my performance of work.” – He offered holding his hand out to you. – “Oh Connor you don’t have to...” – waving your hands in front of you. Connor’s led flickered. – “Already done.” – he told you taking your hand.

You fell silent, suddenly flustered with him holding your hand. – “Comfortable?” – Connor asked curious. It was indeed comfortable, not only the warmth from his hand, but simply holding it as well. If only he knew how harder, he made you fall for him by acting like this. You nodded seeing him smile. Continuing your walk, Connor made sure your hands were warm as he didn’t want you to freeze before reaching your house.

Hank opened the door, frowning at Connor by your side. – “I took the liberty of escorting your daughter home Lieutenant.” – Connor spoke as you stepped up to your dad. – “Thanks.” – Hank answered unsure what to think, stepping aside for you to enter. – “Bye Connor. Thank you for your kindness.” – you said cheerful. – “Goodbye Y/n.” – Connor answered cheerful. Hank grunting irritated at Connor. Bothered slightly that his daughter and his partner were somehow bonding.

Hank shut the door in Connor’s face, having seen enough of him today. – “Y/n why did Connor take you home?” – he wanted to know. – “I was waiting for you at the station, but you never showed.” – you yelled from within another room. Hank puffed brief, looking down at Sumo. – “What?” – he asked the dog bothered. Sumo laid his head back down. You went to bed as did your father, exhausted. Early in the morning you woke up, hearing your father’s annoying ringtone. It has been ringing four times and still he didn’t pick up. You groaned squeezing your pillow over your ears.

“Dad! Your phone!” – you shouted from your room. There was no response as you had enough of it. Agitated you jumped out of your warm bed, swinging your door open. His phone was ringing again in the kitchen as you knew he left it there on purpose. – “Yes!” – you answered bitsy. – “He’ll be there.” – you made clear after receiving some information to pass on. Hanging up, you groaned sleepy. – “Dad!” – you called out, knocking loudly on his door. You could hear him snore from across the door.

“Dad! Wake up!” – you knocked louder, finally hearing him wake. You barged into his room, going straight for his closet. You threw some clothes at him that startled him. – “Get up, you have work.” – you told him, switching the light on. He groaned annoyed and still sleepy. You went back into your room to get dressed for yourself. Knowing he was in no state to go over like this. Passing his room once more, you banged your fist against the door. – “You better be getting dressed!” – you warned making Sumo lift his head up. – “Sorry Sumo.” – you said, giving the dog a good scratch.

While you were preparing coffee opened the door to your father’s bedroom. Seeing his jacket was put on wrong. – “Honestly dad.” – you sighed coming over. You pulled his jacket off, turning it inside out to the right side. – “Sorry.” – he mumbled clearly still exhausted. You understood in a way as those deviant cases wore him out. You returned to the kitchen filling a cup with coffee for on the road. – “Come on, they are waiting for you.” – grabbing him by the arm, you pulled him to the car with you. You gave him the coffee before driving off. Hank yawned as you filled him in with the little information you got from the phone call. Your dad in the worst morning mood you ever saw.

Already blinded by the red and blue lights, parked you the car. Your dad got out grumpy as you got out as well. He nearly stumbled over his feet in the snow. – “Dad please.” – you sighed, holding him upright by his arm. You led him to the entrance of the building, pulling the tape line over your head. Inside were you greeted with camera flashes and blood splashed against the wall. Hank waved you away, muttering for you to leave. – “Y/n, what are you doing here?” – Connor appeared from around a corner, looking curious at you.

“I had to bring him.” – you pointed at your father. You watched him look agitated and bothered at others. – “Sorry he’s in a bad mood.” – you whispered to Connor. – “I appreciate the information.” – he winked making you widen your eyes to suppress a squeal. Looking away, you didn’t want him to notice your cheeks warm up. – “Go home Y/n!” – Hank ordered grumpy. – “I would, but you clearly need the car and unless you expect me to walk all the way back, I’ll wait to drive you to the station.” – you answered, knowing in an hour or so he would still be uncapable of riding.

Hank puffed taking another sip of his coffee. You stepped aside letting them do their work. You found yourself standing near Connor, finding his way of noticing clues interesting. He knelt down by the blood splatters. Scooping his fingers over it to bring it to his mouth. – “Damn it Connor!” – your father called out. – “What did I say about sticking evidence in your mouth.”

You stared dumbfound at the way Connor so easily tasted the blood with little care. – “How else am I going to detect the blood type?” – he answered. – “It is more sufficient and faster.” – he added, still knelt down. – “It’s disgusting for people that’d kiss you.” – you blurted out before you properly thought about it. Connor looked confusingly up to you. – “Why would anyone want to kiss me?” – he questioned. – “I don’t know… maybe…it just came to my mind…” – you responded nervously.

Connor tilted his head slightly to the side. – “Do you want to kiss me, Y/n?” – he asked innocently as a question to your comment. Hank spitted his coffee out as your eyes widened. The thought alone made you bashful. You quickly turned your head, overheating. Connor quirked his eyebrow up, scanning you. He detected that you were flustered by his response, making his led flicker yellow. You stormed out of the house, needing to cool down immediately.

You couldn’t believe he would actually ask such a thing. He might not understand what his comment did to you. Wondering why you overreacted so much to a simple question. You started making your way back to the car, waiting there for your dad. You saw Connor step out first after being in there for more than half an hour. He seemed to be looking around, searching. The moment he spotted you, he made his way over. You panicked, getting quickly in the car to avoid him.

Connor came to your side, knocking on the window. – “Y/n I require to speak with you.” – he said lowering himself a bit to look at you. You gestured at your ear, pretending you couldn’t hear him. Connor batted his eyes briefly up before opening your door. You squealed when he opened your door. He lowered himself to look in the car. – “Car’s are not soundproof. It would be almost impossible for you to have not heard me. Perhaps not as clear as I would sound standing beside you, but you’d still hear me.” – he declared throwing facts your way.

“What is it that you want.” – you asked trying to act unbothered. – “It appears my question from before made you very bashful.” – he said making you widen your eyes. You gave him a push, wanting to leave the car immediately. You did not want to have this conversation again. Not while him asking that made your heart beat out of your chest. You stepped out, Connor coming to stand before you. – “I detect you are in flight mode, which isn’t uncommon for humans when faced with something they rather not discuss.” – he told you.

You could strangle him by being so android like. Scanning and observing every little detail of yours. – “Connor can we not.” – you sighed out, wanting to leave, but Connor grabbed you by the arms. His led flickering to yellow. His brows slightly furrowing. – “You made a very good point in there. It had never occurred to me that my habits might disgust any person wanting to be intimate with me.”

You felt yourself overheat once more, not sure how much longer your heart could take this. – “I have never been kissed you see…” – he told you. – “I have never been faced with anyone showing interest in me.” – he continued as the more he spoke, the more you wanted to melt into a puddle. Your heart almost falling out of your chest. – “So I shall take your advice in consideration.” – he said with a nod, letting go of your arms. You took a deep breath, unable to control yourself any longer.

This needed to be outed before you’d explode. You took Connor by the arms, moving closer to press your lips against his. They felt cold for some reason as you expected them to be warmer. Connor’s led flickering yellow, eyes wide open as he processed what was occurring. You pulled away, shaking nervously from what you just dared to do. – “I…I…I’m so sorry…” – you stuttered out, hand before your mouth. Connor blinked slowly, coming back to his senses. He pulled your hand down, grabbing you as he kissed your lips. For someone who had never been kissed, knew Connor surely what to do.

You threw your arms around him, fully enjoying his kiss. Forgetting about him being an android for just a moment. The sound of voices made you pull away. Connor took a step back. You licked your lips, wanting to taste the last of his lips on yours. You waved at your dad who just walked out of the house. He made his way over as you caught Connor staring at you. – “Need a lift to the station?” – you asked with a smile. – “That would be very generous.” – you gestured with your head to the back as he got in. Your dad opening the door to his side. You smiled giddy into the distance. Hank calling out to you to get a move on. You sat down, starting the car, driving off.

----------------------------------------------------------------

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sublimecatgalaxy · 2 years

Note

me again :) i’ve been thinking a lot about javier peña and how i want him to be mine so bad thanks to tiktok💘 the idea i mentioned to you was reader and javi in a long distance relationship and just the phone conversation between the two of them. it could be fluffy or lean on the side of phone sex but literally anything where he’s speaking to the reader is perfect! can you tell i’m really into pedro’s voice? lol🤭

UHHHHH BESTTIE!!!! My first Javi request😌 TUMBLR THERE IS NO SMUT IN THIS, IT'S JUST FLIRTING AND FLUFFY PLEASE DON'T PUT A WARNING ON THIS.

"I did my nails today." I sigh, looking at the red tinge on my fingers and toes with a fond smile, knowing how much Javi loves when I get myself all pretty for him.

"Yeah?" Javier asks softly, his voice sending shivers down my spine, especially after not hearing from him for nearly three days. "What color?" He asks but I can hear the smile in his tone, knowing he already knows what color I chose.

"Your favorite." I hum with a smirk, twirling the cord on the phone while I curl up on his side of the bed, heart aching at the fact that I can no longer smell his cologne on his pillow.

"Red?"

"Yes."

"You should send me some polaroids." He offers with a sense of mischief in his voice and I giggle, eyes rolling at his pervy thoughts.

"Should I?" He laughs through the line and my whole body warms at the noise, a sense of adoration and appreciation consuming me as I desperately wish to be right there beside him in his Colombian home.

"I miss you." He whispers, a tinge of sadness to his voice.

"I miss you too. It's been awfully boring here. Just the cat and me." I reach down to pet my calico beauty Riley in my lap and she purrs happily, nudging her face against my hand just like she does to Javi when he's home. "I need my man here to spice up my life in more ways than one."

"I'm working on it, sweetheart." Though my words were meant to be teasing, there's an honest frustration to his own words and I realize how tired he must be and how much he must want to be home with me. "What else did you do today other than paint your nails and miss me?"

"Bought some groceries, bought a ticket to Columbia, got a new litterbox-"

"Wait what?" He cuts me off and I can hear the line rustle on his end, almost as if he's moving to catch up with the huge bomb I just dropped on him. Playing dumb, I roll my eyes teasingly and give him the best show I can give.

"What?" I ask dumbly, hearing him scoff loudly and impatiently on the other end of the line.

"You're coming to Columbia?" He asks breathlessly and I can picture the tears lining his lash line and the way his cheeks blush gently when he's excited.

"I get on a plane bright and early tomorrow morning." I giggle, boucing excitedly up and down on the bed, spooking Riley out of her slumber as she rushes off the bed and under it.

"You're kidding."

"You sound disappointed?" Nerves swirl in my tummy for a moment until he mutters a quiet 'no, no, no' under his breath and I feel the anxiety of my secret disappear.

"I'm shocked." He scoffs and if I close my eyes hard enough, I can picture him fisting his hair, looking around the room thinking something along the lines of 'how am I going to clean this apartment in time'. "I'm so fucking happy." He hums and the tears lining my own eyes are now dripping down my cheeks, my heart pounding excitedly. "I can't believe you're real."

"I'll show you how real I am in exactly twelve hours from now." He laughs at my flirting and gives me a quiet 'yes dear' and I begin to feel the anticipatory excitement just knowing I'll see him and be in his arms this time tomorrow.

"Promises, promises."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o- Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpci @joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90 @szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna @f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin@abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum@glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the heart @vampviolets@haylee-e @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife

@officiallyunofficialperson@heyaitsklaudia@rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @loveshineslikethesky @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy @myaloveee @thyris-is @lagataprrr @aaaaslaaaan @witxhy-lexx @minjix @luvroseee @tee-swizzle @savageneversaw @admiringlove @hysteriahall @piceous21 @starlightandfairies @igotmajordaddyissues @drewstarkey-wife1 @manyfandomsfanvergent @revesephemeres @rafesbae01

#javier #javier pena #javier x reader #javier pena x reader #narcos #narcos fic #pedro pascal

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beechersnope · 1 year

Text

Summer of Cum Days 22/23/24: felching, coming in pants, cuckolding

logan/oscar & mark/oscar, warnings for accidental voyeurism/exhibitionism, non-monogamy, semi-public masturbation, and a stuffed animal used in a sexual context, 1280 words

***

The bear was an inspired idea.

“Are you at the factory?” Oscar asks curiously. He’s wearing a long t-shirt like Logan asked; if someone happens to walk in unannounced, they shouldn’t see anything out of the ordinary on the screen of Logan’s phone.

“Yeah,” Logan replies. He pushes one of his AirPods back in with a slight grimace. The left one always seems to fall out. “They called us in early to do some marketing thing, but then it turned out they only needed Alex for like, ninety percent of it, so I’ve just been sitting in this conference room for like an hour.”

“Poor baby,” Oscar says mockingly before his face turns serious again. “We can always reschedule, you know.”

Logan shrugs. “I was actually kinda thinking it might be hot if you got me all worked up even though I can’t do anything about it.”

“Yeah?” Oscar replies with a grin. “Gonna get yourself hard for me and go take some photographs, then?”

Logan flushes. “They’re just headshots.”

“Hmm. Just for me, then.” Oscar sets down the phone on the bed, and for a minute, all Logan can see is a flash of his thigh and a glimpse of the pale, downy fur of the gigantic stuffed bear he’d bought for Oscar on impulse right before the break.

“Can you still hear me?” Oscar asks.

It’s a bit quieter, but still clearly audible, so Logan compensates by turning up the call volume.

“Yeah,” he says. “Should I switch to the thing?”

“No, not yet.”

Logan listens intently as Oscar’s mattress creaks under his weight and then settles again.

“Okay,” Oscar says a few seconds later in a higher, breathier tone. “You can look now.”

Logan nearly drops the phone in his haste to bring up the app. BearCam, it’s called, which is a stupid, if not practical, name for it. He holds his breath while the feed loads, and then nearly drops his phone again when Oscar finally comes into view.

He’s straddling the bear, shirt rucked up around his waist to reveal nothing underneath. His hips are lifted just a few inches, revealing the strap-on harness attached to the life-size stuffed animal and the accompanying dildo already sitting snugly inside his pussy.

“Fuck,” Logan gasps.

“It’s good?” Oscar checks. “I can reposition the head, maybe, if it’s not a good angle.”

“No,” Logan replies tightly. “No, it’s good.” He’s already starting to get hard, and yeah, fuck, maybe this wasn’t the great idea he’d thought it would be all of five minutes ago.

“Okay, I’m gonna—” Oscar doesn’t even finish the sentence, instead just sinking down onto the strap-on cock with a loud groan. It’s a little bigger than the toys he usually uses when they’re on opposite sides of the world, and his thighs tremble with the effort of lifting himself off of it again.

“Can you, like—lean back?” Logan asks, throat closing up with every uttered syllable. He doesn’t think he’s gonna survive this now, and if he were any smarter, he’d probably tell Oscar that they should stop. Pause. Save it for later.

Oscar does as Logan asks, bracing himself on his palms against the mattress with his thighs splayed wide. He’s so wet that Logan see the gleam of it on the silicone as he fucks himself, slow and deep at first, and then a little faster, until quiet frantic moans slip out from between his lips that have Logan’s cock twitching in his pants.

Logan was determined not to touch himself at all during this little experiment—at least not until he got back to the apartment—but the way Oscar is squirming on the end of the shiny silicone cock as Logan watches him through a fucking nanny cam instantly tears his self-control asunder, and he breaks, shoving a hand down his pants right as the door to the conference room flies open.

Logan manages to act fast. He mutes his end of the Facetime call and whips his hand out of his jeans quickly enough that he doesn’t think Alex has cottoned on to what he was actually doing, though there’s a suspicious look on his face as he approaches the table.

“You’re not watching porn, are you?” Alex asks, and well. Maybe Logan hadn’t been so subtle after all.

Logan shakes his head, Oscar’s moans still echoing in his ear. He intentionally avoids looking at the screen of his phone and prays that he can manage to get Alex out of the room before Oscar comes. “On a call,” he says through gritted teeth. “With Oscar. I’ll be done in a few minutes.”

Alex wrinkles his nose a little in mild disgust. “Of course, you are,” he says with a sigh before turning to leave the room again. “I’ll tell them you’re taking a shit,” he adds, and then the door swings shut again, cutting off Logan’s half-hearted attempt at laughter in response to Alex’s ribbing.

Logan quickly scrambles to pick up his phone and leans back in his chair, thighs spread to give himself as much room as possible to squeeze a hand down the front of his jeans. The app has disappeared from the screen somehow in the time that Logan has neglected it, though he can still hear the harsh, guttural cries emanating from Oscar’s mouth echoing loudly in his ears. He could probably get off to just that, he thinks, but Logan wants to see him when it happens.

Logan pulls up the app again, and his eyes nearly bug out of his head.

Oscar is on his stomach now, face mashed into the soft, white chest of the stuffed bear, but he isn’t alone.

Mark is behind him. Mark is inside him, and Logan feels a flash of heat deep in his belly as he thinks about how full Oscar must be, with the dildo still inside his cunt and Mark fucking his ass so hard the whole bed jerks with every thrust.

Logan knows he should unmute himself, say something. He knows that Oscar couldn’t have explained anything to Mark because there had been no audible interruption to the endless string of moans that had come through Logan’s AirPods, so that means Mark must have, what—just walked in on Oscar and started fucking him? Just like that?

The thought doesn’t upset him nearly as much as it should. Logan knew they fucked around sometimes, especially when they went to Australia together so Oscar could visit his family, but he’d never asked for details, never expected them. He certainly hadn’t expected this.

Logan keeps watching, his jaw hanging slack as Mark’s thrusts get faster, and then he’s coming, the jerky, abortive movements of his hips against Oscar’s ass unmistakable. Mark pulls out a few seconds later, and Logan only has a moment to wonder if he’s going to make sure Oscar comes too before Mark leans down and buries his face between Oscar’s legs.

Logan’s cock jerks against his hand. There’s a painful throb in his balls as he feels himself spilling into his underwear, his vision blurring as he watches Mark lick his own come out of Oscar’s ass while Oscar writhes and cries and humps the bear underneath him until he finally comes too, so loudly that Logan feels his balls seize up again like his body thinks it can wring another orgasm out of him right after the first.

Then the video cuts out. Logan stares down at his phone, devastated. Wi-fi signal lost. Fucking worthless Australian internet.

Somehow, Oscar's wi-fi shitting the bed (again) feels more like being cucked than actually watching another man fuck his boyfriend.

#summerofcum2023 #f1 rpf #f1 smut #loscar #oscarmark #my fic

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catierambles · 2 months

Text

Blood Moon Ch.22

*pulls the pin and throws* *flees*

Annalisa was still asleep back home while Sy got a jump on paperwork at Pendulum. There were a couple minor police reports he had to review and file, as well as performance reviews for the rest of the security staff.

“Syverson.” He heard in his ear through the radio and his shoulders stiffened.

“What, Eugene?” He asked and heard the man sigh.

“My name is—”

“I don’t care, what do you want.” Sy said and there was a beat of silence.,

“Can you come to my office please? I’d like to speak to you about something.”

“You can do it this way.”

“I’d rather do it in person. I know our relationship has been...contentious, but I would like to try to put that behind us. For Annalisas’ sake.” Eugene said and Sy thought for a moment before giving a sigh.

“I’m on my way.” He said and got up from his desk, heading out of the security hub and down the hall, knocking on a door gently.

“Enter.” He heard and pushed it open. Eugene was standing by his own desk, waiting for him. “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.”

“Only doin’ it for Annie.” Sy said, folding his arms over his chest.

“I’m aware.” He said, “Please, come in, close the door if you could.” Sy walked into the room, closing the door behind him. “I know about the engagement.”

“Little bird?” Sy asked, only slightly surprised.

“Something like that.” He said, “I’ve been in Annies’ company for a very long time. Seen her partners come and go, never staying for long, but you...” He stopped with a sigh, “She loves you.”

“I love her.” Sy said,

“So again, for her sake, I would like to put any hostilities between us firmly in the past. Bury the hatchet, so to speak.” Eugene said and reached under his desk, pulling out a bottle of clear liquor, setting it down along with a couple double-shot glasses. “I may not...approve of you, but I care for her, and I want her to be happy.”

“So do I.” Sy said and he heard the seal break on the bottle as Eugene twisted off the cap, pouring shots for them both.

“Have you ever had absinthe?”

“Not in the US.” He admitted.

“Yes, it is highly regulated. Even the American version isn’t nearly as strong as those found overseas. I had this one brought in from my distillery in France.”

“Hence the clear.” Absinthe was traditionally tinted green because of the infused wormwood.

“Hence the clear.” Eugene echoed and picked up the shot glass, handing it out to him. Sy hesitated a moment before taking it from him and Eugene raised his own in toast briefly. “Salut.” They downed the shots, the alcohol burning down his throat and hitting his stomach with warmth.

“Not bad.” He admitted.

“Based on how long I’ve been perfecting the recipe, I would more than slightly annoyed if it was of low quality.” Eugene said, “Have a seat, let’s talk. I know next to nothing about you and since you and Annie are to be wed, I would like to change that. Don’t worry about the alcohol, I have as much chance of getting intoxicated as you do.”

“It won’t make you sick?”

“I appreciate the concern, but I’ve found a way to make it so it won’t.” Eugene said and he filled the glasses again after Sy handed his back to him. “Please. Sit.”

They talked for what felt like hours, the bottle getting lower in level. Sy stopped mid-sentence as the buzzing that had been building in the back of his head suddenly increased in intensity, pinching the bridge of his nose. Eugene just regarded him evenly, turning the shot glass around in his fingers.

“She wasn’t supposed to be there.” Eugene said and Sy looked at him, his vision blurring around the edges. “The night that Markus died. She wasn’t supposed to be there.”

“What—”

“I had asked her to the opera, but Markus...dear old Markus must have gotten suspicious because he asked her to stay in. She wasn’t supposed to be there when that Hunter broke in using the back key that I gave him.” Eugene said and Sy tried to stand, but his limbs were wet sand, holding him down. “When she didn’t show, I raced to their estate, but Markus was already dead and the Hunter was turning on Annie. I killed him, played the savior, but she wasn’t supposed to be there. She wasn’t supposed to see that. If only she had come to the opera with me, she would have been spared that. I may have wanted Markus disposed of, but I didn’t want her to be hurt by it. At least, not to that degree.”

“You—”

“Marvelous plant, wolfsbane.” He said simply, getting up from his seat. “Keeps vampires from getting sick from food or drink, and it is one hell of a paralytic and sedative for dogs. Count yourself fortunate. If you were human, it simply would have killed you outright.” His fist came across Sy’s face, making it snap to the side, but he barely felt it, barely felt himself hit the floor. He couldn’t move, his breaths loud in his ears, his whole body going numb.

“You said you were just going to talk to him!” His vision was dimming, but he saw Sweeney standing above him with Eugene.

“Quiet, Elizabeth!” He hissed, “Is the car ready?”

“Eugene—”

“Is the car ready?”

“Yes, yes it’s ready.” She said.

“Good, get him out of here and take him to Damascos. He’ll be expecting you.”

“Damas—!”

“Now, Elizabeth.” Eugene said and Sweeney hesitated a moment before crouching down, the world going completely dark as he felt himself be lifted.

Once Sy was gone, Eugene sat back down behind his desk, throwing the shot glasses into the trash and putting the bottle back under his desk. Turning on his computer monitor, he read over the letter again, making sure it read just the right amount of unsophisticated but not heavy-handed to the point where it gave it away. When he was satisfied with the vernacular, he took out the paperwork that Sy had filled out when he was hired, referencing it several times as he transcribed what was on the screen to a sheet of lined paper.

Annie—

This ain’t workin’, and I am so sorry—

#henry cavill #captain syverson #blood moon

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cheesybadgers · 1 year

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 20)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

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Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 12,880

Summary: An invitation takes Horacio and Javier back to Medellín, a city that has changed as much as they have since they were last in it. Amongst the celebrations, can they find a way to reconcile the old with the new?

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Emotional smut, religious themes, discussions of canon-typical violence and past trauma, grief, healing, allusions to period-typical prejudices, smoking, drinking, swearing.

Notes: So, this chapter took on a life of its own and ended up a lot bigger than it was originally supposed to be, oops lol. The initial idea was for this and chapter 21 to be chapter 20, but, as you can see, it didn't quite work out like that 😂

The majority of chapter 21 is done, I just need to finish it off but life (and covid...again) have been getting in the way lately.

After that, I just have chapter 22 and a short epilogue to do, then fin. So, I promise we are very nearly there now! Ideally, I'd like it all done by the end of autumn, but that might not be possible...let's see how it goes.

Thank you once again to anyone still reading and waiting for updates, your patience is greatly appreciated (as always, please feel free to drop me a line if you’d like to, I love hearing from you!)❤️

I’ve also added to my OHDH trivia post to cover this chapter if anyone is interested (and there's quite a few new points for this one, as I ended up doing a lot of research lol).

Chapter 20: Something Old, Something New

Dappled light filtered through the Venetian blinds, splintering across the polished wooden furnishings and along the plush carpeted floor, bathing the hotel room in tints of gold. No traces remained of yesterday’s rain after a warm start to the morning, and the forecast miraculously looked promising for the hours ahead.

Horacio stood facing a floor-length mirror, his fingers wrestling with his jacket and a Cattleya orchid buttonhole until he tutted and gave up. It was the final addition to his outfit: a three-piece mid-grey suit, a pale olive green dress shirt, a bottle green tie and dark brown shoes.

“Come here.” Javier abandoned fastening his burgundy tie, letting it hang untied and loose around his neck. Instead, he took the buttonhole from Horacio and delicately pinned the flower on his left lapel. It matched the one already placed on his navy blue three-piece, which he had teamed with a rose-pink dress shirt and black shoes.

“Thanks. It’s been a long time since I’ve worn one of these. I’m out of practice.” The last wedding Horacio attended had been a friend of Juliana’s, and for some reason, attaching a flower to his jacket was trickier than his CNP lapel pins.

“At least the last time wasn’t your own wedding…which you never actually made it to.”

“Fair point.”

Javier smoothed down Horacio’s lapels, slow caresses on either side, chestnut lost in charcoal as he took all of him in. “Beautiful.”

“Likewise.” Horacio’s fingers slid up to Javier’s tie and worked their magic, managing a knot neater than Javier could ever make. He positioned and repositioned it at the collar until it was symmetrical.

“Satisfied?”

“Hmm, not quite.” He took hold of the length of the tie, pulling Javier down a couple of inches to his height, fresh mint and aftershave hitting their senses as they settled into it, careful not to squash the flowers at their breast.

Javier breathed hard against Horacio’s mouth. “I take it we haven’t got time for—”

“Absolutely not.” Although Horacio was panting as he re-straightened Javier’s tie, the sight of each other in formal wear a distracting novelty. “We’re meeting Steve downstairs in 5 minutes.”

“Shame. I miss Madrid already.”

“Our bed will still be there when we get back.”

“Who said anything about a bed?”

“Come on, we can’t be late,” Horacio reiterated with great reluctance, avoiding the look he knew Javier was giving him. “You ready?”

Javier took a deep breath and picked up the invitation from the nearby nightstand, his eyes scanning over the details one last time.

Juana Marisol Vargas Restrepo

Felipe Gabriel Trujillo Rojas

Con la bendición de sus familias, te invitan a celebrar su boda

(With the blessing of their families, they invite you to celebrate their wedding)

El sábado, 21 de enero de 1995

(Saturday 21st January, 1995)

A las tres de la tarde

(At 3 in the afternoon)

Iglesia del Señor de las Misericordias, Manrique

(Church of the Lord of the Mercies, Manrique)

Recepción a seguir en el Jardín Botánico de Medellín

(Reception to follow at the Botanical Garden of Medellín)

“I think so. Of all the churches in Medellín, though.”

Horacio let out a wry huff to match Javier’s. “I know. The bride’s choice, apparently. Plus, it’s close by for the reception.”

Javier hummed, his eyes still glued to the invitation as if the antidote to the discomfort simmering in the pit of his stomach was hidden between the lines.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…yeah, I’m fine. It was always gonna be like this. Wasn’t it? Being back here.”

“I don’t think there’s a way around it. But at least it’s a celebration this time.” Horacio placed a gentle kiss on Javier’s forehead. “And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I know.”

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After locating Steve, they shared a taxi to the church, where they met Connie and Olivia on account of Olivia being in a particularly fussy mood.

“I think it’s the travelling and being out of routine. She was up early this morning. So, of course, she’s tired now.” Connie gestured towards Olivia, fast asleep in her dad’s arms, before hugging Javier and Horacio.

“You look stunning, love the dress,” Javier said, noticing he owned a shirt in the same shade of turquoise.

“Aw thank you, you all look so handsome!” Connie stood back to admire them then leaned in to kiss Steve. “And not hungover?” she added with a raised brow, rubbing away the smudge of lipstick left behind on his cheek. “I take it I need to thank Horacio again for keeping you in one piece?”

It took Horacio a second to get what Connie was referring to. But then he remembered a paralytic pair of DEA agents slumped in the back of his car, alongside practically carrying Javier to his bedroom, removing his outer layers and plying him with water, then lying him on his side with a pillow behind his back.

Horacio had been heading for the door when a slurred noise over his shoulder stopped him. One that sounded suspiciously like “Stay.” He couldn’t prove it or ask for clarification. But nor could he leave. So, he stayed until he was reassured Javier was safe and sleeping soundly. Then he tiptoed home, relieved the next day to find Javier had no recollection of any of it.

“I don’t know about that,” Horacio said in the here and now. “We were all on our best behaviour for today.”

“Yeah, Murphy needs his beauty sleep these days. Isn’t that right?” Javier threw a wink in Steve’s direction and wondered if Connie’s choice of words meant what he thought they did.

“Well, some of us actually have to go to work, Peña,” Steve shot back with a self-satisfied curl of the lips.

Connie playfully slapped Steve on the shoulder. “Ignore him, he’s just jealous.”

“Can’t even deny it.”

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Guests began to file up the stone steps into the church, the Murphys following once they had roused Olivia awake, with Javier and Horacio hanging back at the top of the stairs.

Their arms rested over the balcony wall as they surveyed the road beneath. There was no CNP vehicle parked up this time, but instead, a hive of activity with guests being dropped off and a space reserved for the bride’s imminent arrival.

“It feels like a fucking lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

“It was.”

“I, er, never saw her again. Helena, I mean. I secured her a visa – figured it was the least I could do after everything. But she took her kid and ran before I could give it to her. Her neighbour said she was staying with her sister in Peru, but…who knows?”

Javier wasn’t sure if she even had a sister, but he always hoped it was the truth. He always hoped she and her family were safe and that she found the strength to put what happened behind her. But of course, he had no fucking clue if these were comforting lies he’d told himself over the years. It wasn’t love, whatever they had. Far from it. He knew that back then let alone now. But for a short while, they cared in their own way, and as much as their circumstances and jobs allowed them to.

“Probably for the best. It wouldn’t have been safe here.”

“No, I made sure of that.” Javier’s hand dug harshly into the jagged stone, leaving dents in his skin until the subtle and discreet touch of a finger made contact with his own, pulling him out of his spiralling self-flagellation. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t plan on bringing all this up. Especially not today.”

“It’s okay. And it’s not like we ever really talked about it at the time.”

It had been a sore point for Horacio, not that he understood why back then. Of course, he knew Helena wasn’t the first or the last, but he could see whatever they had, however short-lived, went beyond the mere transactional. He’d never seen Javier so worried for an informant, and as it turned out, he had every reason to be. Then, she stopped being a threat and became yet another victim.

“Funnily enough, no. You just took it out on Steve instead.”

A knowing look eased the tension in an instant.

“Could you blame me?”

“Absolutely not. Especially when he was encroaching on your territory.”

Javier couldn’t resist a wink, which caused a muttered “Fuck you” followed by their shoulders shaking in unison.

Once calm was restored, Horacio turned to face the church, the wall bearing the brunt of his weight. “Looking back now, though, I don’t think I should’ve been so surprised by what you did for me in Cartagena and Tolú.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because I did the same for you that night here in Medellín.”

Javier joined Horacio; both now stood side by side, their gaze meeting in an acknowledgement of the rich history that existed between them that no words could ever fully convey.

And with the scattered remnants of their past now confined to distant memories they could at last put behind them, they made their way into the church.

------------------------------------------------------

A waterfall of roses, carnations and orchids tied together with matching ribbons cascaded a rainbow of purple, yellow and white down the rows of pews. The flowers were supplied by the mother of the groom, who conveniently was a florist by profession. Every August, Medellín burst into bloom for Feria de las Flores, so if anyone was going to be in charge of the arrangements, it was her.

Candles lit a path from the aisle to the altar, reminding Horacio not only of Día de las Velitas but of his and Javier’s recreation of the festival during their first Christmas in Laredo. He was about to take a seat when he caught a flash of green dress uniform in the wings of the church and a pair of dark eyes picking him out of the congregation.

He excused himself to the sacristy at the side of the altar.

Trujillo peered out to the pews as his hands alternated between fidgeting with the knot of his tie and his cufflinks. “Is she here yet?”

“Not yet.” Horacio straightened Trujillo’s tie knot. “But it’s still early.”

“Yeah.” Trujillo nodded and took a deep breath.

“She’ll be here before you know it. So relax. I think we’ve been through worse.” Horacio’s lips stayed neutral for an impressively long spell until he caved.

“My hand was steady as a rock on that rooftop. But today?” Trujillo held out his hand to show the hint of a tremor.

“You ended something once and for all on that rooftop. Something that needed ending…for your father, Alfredo and Sebastián. For you. For Colombia. But today is the start of your future.”

“I always thought they would have been here for this one day. So, thank you. For being here instead. For coming back...after everything. For all those early morning drills and target practice. And for the free drinks.”

They laughed at the fact Horacio was a man of his word and hadn’t let Trujillo buy a single drink since arriving here.

“It’s the least I could do. And if you ever need anything, Felipe, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Likewise…Horacio. That goes for Javier, too.”

Their silence was an acknowledgement that they had just shared an ending and a beginning of their own, no longer comrades in arms or superior and subordinate, but something different again, something equal.

“I thought my ears were burning,” came a voice from the doorway.

“Great way to kill the moment, Peñita.”

“Sorry. I wanted to wish you luck. And offer you some Dutch Courage, if you're interested?” Javier produced a hip flask from behind his back. “A present from Search Bloc,” was his answer to the quizzical looks he was met with.

“Just a taste, then. I don’t want Juana thinking I’m drunk.” Trujillo took a restrained swig. “Any last-minute advice?” he asked Javier, passing him the flask.

“You want marriage advice from me? Er, don’t do a runner before she gets here?”

“Good one, brother.”

“He did warn you,” Horacio added, shooting Javier a pointed look.

“True. Although,” Trujillo lowered his voice and glanced at the doorway, “neither of you might be married, but…you’ve been through a lot together. And I think it’s made you stronger. So, you must be doing something right.”

A wordless nod and one last swig for good measure were exchanged.

Javier and Horacio were unsure if it was the alcohol or something else causing the heat to rise in their cheeks. But either way, they were in quiet agreement with Trujillo’s assessment.

It wasn’t long before the words “She’s here!” were whispered with barely contained glee from beyond the door, and it was time to take their places.

The ceremony, even the drier elements, passed quicker than most weddings Javier and Horacio had been to. It was the first one Javier had attended since…well, not even his own now he thought about it because he never made it to the church. He never saw Lorraine’s dress either, as, unsurprisingly, she had changed out of it by the time he was forced to explain himself. Not that Javier really could explain at the time. But then, it was much easier to understand something was wrong once he knew what was right.

Between Felipe’s pristine uniform and Juana’s mantilla veil, memories of Horacio's Mamá wearing a strikingly similar black veil to his Papá’s funeral came to mind. But once upon a time, they had also stood at an altar like this with their shared life ahead of them, and even though the injustice of it being cut short would always linger, on this occasion, Horacio chose to cherish the fact it existed in the first place.

Furtive glances travelled between him and Javier as they bowed their heads to pray during the candle ceremony and for the exchange of rings and arras coins. It was a silent confirmation that whilst these rituals weren’t an option for them in the eyes of the law or church, their unofficial versions were no less significant.

------------------------------------------------------

They moved on to the reception at Jardín Botánico de Medellín in the evening, a place Horacio hadn’t been to since his youth. The wedding meal was to be served under a spectacular orchid-shaped wooden canopy in the centre of the gardens. Tables dressed in white linen were decorated with flower arrangements to match those at the church, and favours included coffee beans and orchid seeds.

The newlyweds sat at the top table surrounded by close family and their padrinos and madrinas, the echoes of war still loud and everlasting given the notable absences. Javier, Horacio, Steve, Connie and Olivia sat on the next one, along with some familiar Search Bloc faces and Carlos Holguín staff.

At the adjacent table were Martínez Senior and Junior. Horacio and Martínez Senior had only crossed paths at occasional ceremonies and dinners, even though their fathers worked more closely in the past. As the war on drugs kicked in, it became apparent the two men had polar opposite approaches to their jobs. And whilst Horacio made Escobar his mission, Martínez took a different path, specialising in FARC operations in the jungle instead. Until their paths converged, that was.

“Do you think he knows?” Javier muttered over the rim of his champagne flute after Martínez Senior’s eyes briefly fell on them.

“About us? Why would he?” Horacio replied into the palm of his hand as he scratched his upper lip.

“I dunno. He knew about everything else. And he must have questions.”

“I’m sure he does. But do you think he’ll even want to speak to us? I already know he hates my guts.”

“He might be pleasantly surprised you’re not dead. You never know.”

Their hushed conversation was thankfully drowned out by Olivia interrogating Connie about everything from the guests’ outfits to the flower arrangements and when the food was coming, whilst Steve caught up with Jacoby.

The tables were soon full of plates and dishes bearing carne asada, lechona, patacones, arepas, tamales, milhojas, concadas, cuajada con melao, fruit salads and the centre piece Torta Negra Colombiana, decorated with flowers to match the colour scheme.

The cutting of the Torta Negra followed before the space was re-arranged, guests spilling out into the surrounding gardens, refreshing their drinks at the various pop-up bars or walking amongst the flowers and trees.

By dark, a dancefloor was unveiled in the centre of the canopy with a band playing cumbia, vallenato, merengue, bambuco, salsa and beyond.

Once the bride had thrown her bouquet, the single male guests gathered to place a shoe beneath her dress. Javier managed to escape the ritual in favour of sitting back and watching from the sidelines. But at the risk of inviting prying questions from his former colleagues if he did the same, Horacio reluctantly added his shoe to the pile. Typically, his was chosen by Juana, which, as per tradition, meant he would be next to marry.

From several feet away, Horacio could see Javier’s suggestive eyebrow and overt smirk, and they were even more brazen close up when Horacio re-joined him.

“Should we pick out rings, or…?”

An eyeroll was the only answer Javier was ever going to get to that question, and it came right on cue.

“Because, er,” Javier continued regardless, clearing his throat and casually glancing around to make sure no one was in earshot, “seeing you in your shirt stays this morning got me thinking how fucking good you’d look in a wedding garter.”

As Horacio was hit with a barrage of mental images and a dry mouth, a large cheer erupted as the next tradition got underway. This time, all male guests – not just the single ones – were rounded up to remove their belts, the idea being that the man with the longest belt was the winner. Of what exactly, Horacio was never sure when this had played out at past Colombian weddings he’d been to.

He stood opposite Javier as they fumbled with buckles, unhooking the leather straps from their belt loops and pulling them off in one swift motion. Their eyes remained fixed on each other from start to finish, an act fuelled by Javier’s last words.

The sound of cheering pulled them back with reluctance to the proceedings, and even though their belts were probably slightly longer than they used to be, they weren’t declared the winners.

------------------------------------------------------

As the drinks flowed, so did the dancing, regardless of whether the paired-up guests knew each other or whether they could actually dance.

Javier’s next partner was a familiar face, though, who had at least taken a few dance classes to get to know some locals when first arriving in Colombia.

“Is Steve with Olivia?” he asked, grateful for a slower number so he could catch his breath and talk.

“Oh, no, she’s with the Jacobys. She’s made friends with their daughter, Chloe - they’re around the same age.” Connie twirled underneath Javier’s outstretched arm and back around again. “Steve is conveniently helping Horacio with the next round of drinks. He always did have hips as stiff as a board. I had to practically drag him up for our first dance.”

“That…doesn’t surprise me.”

“And what about Horacio?” Connie whispered into Javier’s shoulder as their feet slid across the floor in time with the music. “Does he need to loosen his hips, or is he a dark horse?”

“You should know a man never dances and tells. But…” Javier spun Connie on her heel again, pulling her close so his head was near her ear this time. “I can assure you there’s nothing wrong with his hips.”

“That doesn’t surprise me either. When did you say you were heading to Manizales?”

“In a couple of days.” Javier swallowed hard now the subject had been raised.

“How’s he holding up?”

“Okay. We’ve not really talked about it since Madrid. Figured we’d deal with it after the wedding, but -” Javier scoffed, cutting himself off mid-sentence.

“Now it’s nearly here,” Connie finished for him.

“Exactly. But I guess we couldn’t hide in Spain forever.” As tempting as it was some days.

They somehow made it to the other side of the dancefloor, narrowly avoiding multiple couples before escaping back to their table once the song was over.

“How’re you finding being back again?” Connie asked.

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Definitely weird at first.”

Their shared laughter came like a sigh of relief, a release of tension now they had spoken the truth out loud.

“But different.”

“It’s not like last time, right?” There was uncertainty in her unblinking eyes, a plea not only for reassurance but for honesty as well.

“Trujillo said anyone left from the cartel with half a brain cell skipped town or went underground before Pablo’s body was cold. They’ve been tracking down anyone dumb enough to have stuck around. So, no. It’s not like last time. I promise.”

His tone was soft but he looked Connie in the eye until she nodded, needing the conviction as much as she did.

“I know I never visited Madrid like I said I would – blame your ex-employer for that, by the way – but for what it’s worth, I don’t think Medellín’s the only one who’s different now. So, whatever happens, Javi…”

“I know.”

His hand found its way to hers on the table and gently squeezed. An acceptance that there was no denying traces of the past, as they had already discovered, but a translucent overlay had been placed on top of it now. Whether the two could co-exist in the long run, nobody yet knew, but at least it was finally the chance of a future for them and Medellín.

------------------------------------------------------

Horacio picked one of the quieter bars, reeling off a list of drinks to the bartender and perching on a stool while he waited for his order.

“Thought you might need a hand.”

Before Horacio could respond, Steve had already sat on the adjacent stool, his back to the bar to accommodate his long legs.

“You sure you’re not just avoiding the dancefloor, Agent Murphy?” There was a hint of a mock interrogative tone to his voice as he turned sideways to face Steve.

Steve held his hands up in surrender. “You got me there. Although…” He dipped into the inside pocket of his black suit jacket and pulled out a couple of cigars. “Courtesy of the groom, if you’re interested?”

Horacio broke into a laugh. “He paid up, then.”

“Damn right.” Steve held one of the cigars closer to Horacio, tempting him despite the conflicted look Horacio was giving it. “I won’t tell Javi if you don’t tell Con.”

Horacio sighed and rolled his eyes. “Fine.” He put the cigar between his lips and took the lighter from Steve, hovering the flame near the foot until it took.

Steve did the same, a woody haze soon encircling them.

The bartender appeared with a trayful of drinks and once he was gone again, Horacio lifted a beer bottle and slid it across to Steve. “I never got a chance to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“Stechner.”

A scowl stormed across Steve’s pupils, and he took a quick hard swig from his beer bottle, placing it back on the table with a little more force than intended. “It was my fuckin’ pleasure. You should’ve seen his face. Covered in blood and tears in his eyes when my hand squeezed his throat.”

He swapped his beer for his cigar, relishing in that sweet memory as a ring of smoke hovered above his head like a misplaced halo.

Every now and then, Steve still surprised Horacio. Because occasionally, Horacio caught glimpses of the turbulence that raged beneath the surface. It was a clumsier, more unrefined version than he was accustomed to, but he recognised and understood it nonetheless.

“Not sure I’d have been able to stop squeezing,” Horacio confessed.

“It was touch and go for a minute. But rumour has it, the new Country Attaché, Alana Cortés, and Messina were roommates all the way through their Academy days. And for a few years after…before Cortés took an assignment in Mexico out of the blue. But now she’s back.” Steve toasted the air with his beer bottle. “So good luck to our old friend, Bill, trying to pull her strings.”

Horacio raised his glass to meet Steve’s bottle, although there was an ulterior motive to leaning forward a fraction. “I take it you’ve heard nothing else about the photos?” His words were delivered towards the floor in case of the minutest likelihood anyone around them was the world’s best lip reader.

“Not a thing. But I’d handle it if something did happen; you have my word. Cali’s beyond my remit, but I’d put good money on Stechner’s attention being there now he can’t use us anymore.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Oh, and you were right, too.”

“About what?”

“Javi tryin' to shut me out.”

“Well, thanks for not letting him.”

They bowed their heads and returned to their cigars, a surprisingly comfortable silence sitting between them.

“How was he in Madrid?” Steve asked in the end.

“Good, mostly. There were bad days, obviously. But he sleeps better now.”

“He’s not the only one.”

“No. I think there’s a lot of that going around.”

“It’s weird though, right?”

“What’s that?”

“Being back. Like it was all just some fuckin’ dream. Like it wasn’t really me on that rooftop. Like everyone knew it should’ve been you in that photo instead.”

Horacio might not have been there for the final showdown, but he'd seen enough newspapers and bulletins to know that photo well. The one where Escobar’s limp body was held up to the camera like a trophy, now the hunt was over.

“Yeah, well, I made sure it wasn’t me, didn’t I?” he said matter-of-factly. “I’ve had to make my peace with it. And so should you.”

“I played out that moment so many times. Thought about all the ways we’d catch him. Over and over, I let it run through my head. But I wasn’t expecting him to look so…pathetic. Like any other son of a bitch criminal runnin’ scared when his time’s up.”

“Because that’s all he was. But it was real. And he’s gone. No matter what happens, they can’t take that away from us.”

“But now what?”

“Now, we live our lives. We don’t forget, but we move on.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

Just as they toasted their drinks, they were rumbled.

“Might’ve known this is where you’d be hiding. Found them!” Javier called over his shoulder.

Trujillo followed behind Javier; his police uniform now exchanged for a lightweight guayabera. “Anything to avoid a dancefloor. Blondie, are those my cigars?”

“I think you’ll find they’re mine now, Major. I might have a couple of spares lying around, though.” Steve reached into his pocket and pulled out more like he was performing a magic trick.

Trujillo rubbed his hands together. “Now you’re talking.”

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Once Steve had braved the canopy to pass Connie her drink, the four men retreated to a deserted part of the gardens where pine tables and chairs with canvas covering them were dotted amongst the trees. White lights hung across the branches like fireflies and lanterns lined the decked walkways, the party and dancing reduced to a murmur in the distance.

The quartet sat around one of the pine tables, the first time they had been together like this since the old days back at Carlos Holguín.

“Can you believe we’re finally here?” Trujillo asked, savouring the spicy scent of his cigar as it combined with the fresh floral notes of the forest.

“At your wedding? Barely.”

Trujillo rolled his eyes at Javier’s teasing and shook his head. “You can tick comedian off your list of career options.”

Steve sucked in air through his teeth at their war of words. “See what I had to put up with.”

“Says the white boy who needed me to be his fucking translator 24/7.”

A collective braying sound travelled around the table this time before it morphed into laughter and Steve making use of any Spanish swear word he could think of.

“But in all seriousness...no, not really,” Javier replied in earnest after they returned to their cigars.

“Sometimes when I wake up, it takes me a minute to remember he’s not still lurking out there somewhere.”

“But he’s not.” Horacio’s eyes glowed with steely determination, needing to put a line under this once and for all. “You made sure of that. You gave Medellín a future. And now it’s time to start yours.” He raised his glass to the centre of the table. “To Juana and Felipe.”

“To Juana and Felipe!” Javier and Steve echoed as their drinks clinked with Horacio’s.

“And to Colombia,” Felipe added.

“To Colombia!”

------------------------------------------------------

Once the cigars were stubbed out, Trujillo and Horacio were pulled away for a Search Bloc reunion, leaving Javier and Steve to their drinks.

“I was telling Carrillo about Cortés earlier.”

“How did you find out about her, by the way? You never said on the phone.”

“Just some good old fashioned slightly off-the-record detective work, that’s all.”

“You covered your tracks, though, right? Because they’ll know it was you who gave her my intel. Even if they can’t prove it.”

“’Course. Although it wouldn’t take a fuckin’ genius to figure that out. Same with Stechner’s busted face. Don’t think anyone bought it was your handiwork.”

“To be fair, there’s a critical shortage of geniuses in the DEA. Present company included, obviously.”

“Obviously.” Steve retaliated by raising his middle finger in response to Javier’s trademark wink. “But most people hate Stechner as much as we do, so no one came asking. Never saw him around the school again after that, although I’m sure he must’ve been prowlin' about somewhere.”

“More than likely. So, er…no one’s mentioned the photos either?”

“No. And like I told Carrillo, even if they did, I’d handle it, Javi. I promise. There’s more shit on Stechner out there, I fuckin’ know it. Messina was getting too close, remember. I don’t think I’ll have to dig deeper, but look at it as an insurance policy.”

“Makes sense. And thanks, Steve. For Stechner. For the intel. For reassuring Horacio, apparently.”

Javier laughed at the thought of them engaged in something resembling a heart-to-heart. But if truth be told, it brought warmth to his chest to realise the two men could be considered friends-of-sorts these days. Not that he dared tell them that.

Steve gave a lazy salute with one hand whilst the other took a swig of his drink. “Don’t expect that to become a habit, by the way.”

And there it was, right on cue, just as Javier anticipated. “Oh, no, of course not.”

“It was a one-time-only Wedding Special kinda deal.”

“Right. Exactly.”

Javier took a long sip of his drink to hide the smirk threatening to explode into an undiplomatic laugh if he wasn’t careful.

“Any idea when you’re moving back to the States?” Steve asked, seemingly oblivious to Javier’s impressive restraint.

“Not really. It depends on Horacio’s visa. We haven’t decided on the best route yet. I’d forgotten how much fucking paperwork’s involved.”

It was no wonder Javier held such disdain for bureaucracy when the wrong piece of paper was the difference between crossing a border and not. When someone’s life was reduced down to a list of rigid criteria without much consideration for the sacrifice and hardship it often took to get to that point in the first place. It was why he had done his best to help informants get an American visa wherever possible, even if it meant bending rules until they snapped.

He knew Horacio had more options than most – more than his grandparents’ generation did – and they had been lucky with their past visas. But he tried not to think about the fact their future would be in the hands of an officious government administrator. One most likely not prepared to bend any rules in the slightest.

“You got that right. Don’t s’pose he’s thought about law enforcement?”

Javier shot Steve a sharp look. “Hilarious.”

“I thought so. And what about you? Any ideas what’s next?”

“Me? Fuck, I dunno, man. Guess I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

“You’ll both figure it out, y’know.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah. You always do. You’re like me and Con. We’ve had our rough patches, several of ‘em while we were here – and a few more since we left, come to think of it – but somehow, we get through it. Same as you and Horacio.”

“You drunk, Murphy?”

Steve contemplated that as though he hadn’t considered the possibility until now despite the array of empty glasses covering the table. “Fuck, I think I am.” He let out a loud snigger before hushing himself. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“My lips are sealed.” For all of Javier’s stoicism, he stood no chance, and it wasn’t long before they were giggling like schoolboys.

“About the rough patches, though…” Steve said once they had calmed down. “Any tips?”

“Someone once told me it’s okay to not always be in the same boat even if you’re in the same storm. Sometimes, you just need your own boat. But as long as you’re trying to sail in the same direction...and want to be in the same boat as much as possible, you can get through it.”

“Huh. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but that actually makes sense. Who do I need to thank?”

Javier smiled, almost able to smell fresh churros if he closed his eyes hard enough. “Someone a lot older and wiser than us.”

“Figures. And my point still stands, by the way.”

“What point’s that exactly?”

“You might not have worked out the finer details yet, but…” Steve gestured for Javier to move forward as though he was about to share highly classified intel. “The worst’s over now. We don’t forget, but we move on.” He nodded sagely before dropping his voice to little more than an alcohol-infused rumble. “This is your happy ending, Javi. Go live it.”

As they returned to the party, Steve alternating between leaning against Javier and patting him enthusiastically on the back whilst attempting something vaguely resembling Spanish, there was no doubt in Javier’s mind that Steve was wasted and probably had been for most of their conversation.

But when it came to the sentiment behind Steve’s garbled words, something told Javier that didn’t matter.

------------------------------------------------------

Maybe it was Horacio’s age or the quiet life he had become accustomed to, but he couldn’t keep up with Search Bloc’s drinking. The aguardiente shots were in full flow when he left them to it, doubling back towards where he had left Javier and Steve.

He made it past the bustle of the bar and round the corner towards a small rock garden with a walkway to the trees lying beyond.

“So, the rumours were true, then.”

Force of habit made Horacio momentarily reach for where his gun holster used to be as he spun around to face the voice from the shadows of a wooden bench.

“Depends which ones you’re talking about,” he replied in a measured tone now he knew the source of the voice. “You can’t believe everything you hear.”

“Well, let’s put it this way...you certainly look well for a dead man, Colonel Carrillo.”

“You almost sound disappointed.”

“Not at all. Vengeance isn’t my style.”

“Nor mine these days.”

“So I’ve heard. Congratulations on your retirement. I’d say that beats jail, wouldn’t you?”

Horacio scoffed as he sat on the opposite end of the bench, his brow flexing at such an expertly delivered blow. “I guess I deserved that.”

“I think we both know what a man deserves and what a man gets are rarely the same thing.”

“True. But you’ll always be Colonel Martínez: the man who stopped Escobar.”

“Perhaps so. But was death not the easier way out?”

“Easier than what? Vengeance?”

“Justice.” Martínez gave Horacio a long look from his end of the bench. “Gaviria was the one who wanted him dead. It’s no wonder you two got along so well.”

“I did my duty. As Gaviria did his and you did yours. We played the hands we were dealt.”

“Yes, and he dealt mine well when he signed my son up to Search Bloc before offering me your job.”

Realisation slowly spread across Horacio’s face, and without meaning to, he gave Martínez a look tinged with pity. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I kept him alive. He was transferred to a new intel unit instead…where he intercepted radio transmissions from Pablo the day we caught him.”

A curve of a smile formed on Horacio’s lips. “Funny how it works out sometimes.”

Horacio was reminded of his own double-edged sword of a path to becoming leader of Search Bloc. The journey began with Javier and a briefcase full of cash being deposited in the lap of General Jaramillo, forcing the General’s greedy hand to appoint Horacio as head of the anti-drug squad and make him a Colonel. A job that was already a poisoned chalice on account of his predecessor winding up dead at the hands of the cartel.

Javier using gringo money to buy Horacio a promotion had been a bone of contention between them back then. Too many heated discussions under the influence led to an argument where “Everybody works for somebody" and “Don’t ever mistake me for one of your whores again” were the last words to hang between them in a heavy fog of smoke, whiskey and undefinable tension for several weeks. During which time, Horacio was even more ruthless than usual. And as if to prove a point, Javier practically became a temporary resident at his favourite brothel.

The hypocrisy of the situation had sat uneasily under Horacio’s skin when he had always taken such a hard line on bribery from the narcos. Was this really any different?

But conversely, if he hadn’t been allowed to build his own force of incorruptible men, he would never have led the operation on Gacha. He would never have ended up in those quarters in Tolú with Javier. On his cot with Javier underneath him.

“Yes, it is. I did tell Gaviria I would bring Escobar into custody unless he resisted. But of course, he resisted.”

“Then maybe Escobar didn’t care about justice as much as you think he did. And there’s nothing you could have done about that.”

“Aren’t we supposed to care about justice, though? And I don’t mean the vigilante kind you and Los Pepes were so fond of administering.”

“You sound like the gringos I used to work with.” A surge of nostalgia rose in Horacio’s chest, and he’d have been surprised if it wasn’t showing on his face. Although, of course, it was one gringo in particular he had in mind.

“If you think I wanted Escobar to be extradited to an American jail, you’re mistaken. He was our problem to deal with, not theirs.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t give a fuck about a corrupt form of justice. How would that have been better than what I did? So many judges, politicians and journalists were bought or killed alongside our men. He wanted Colombia to bleed, and he’d have done whatever it took to make sure he didn’t remain in a cell. You, Trujillo, Search Bloc…you cauterised the wound that no one else could.”

“For now. I think we both know this was something of a Pyrrhic victory. And not the end.”

“Two things we can agree on.”

Reluctant smiles crossed their faces despite everything.

“I think our fathers managed a few more.”

“So I was told at Papá’s wake. How is your father doing these days?”

“He’s fine. Retired now but relieved the hunt is over. I think he hated watching from the sidelines.”

“I know the feeling.”

The distant drumbeat of the live band carried on the gentle breeze through the garden, whispering like ghosts through the plants and trees surrounding them.

“I may not have agreed with your methods, but I was very sorry about your father.”

“Me too. And for what it’s worth, I think my father would’ve been sorry about my methods as well.”

“I cannot imagine how losing a parent so young would have changed my path. And to be clear, this isn't to be taken as an excuse, but by your own ethos, you played the cards you were dealt, did you not?”

Horacio laughed. “Something like that.”

“I must admit, you were a tough act to follow.”

“Was I?”

“Yes. The level of respect you commanded from your men wasn’t easy to replicate.”

“You still got invited here, though.”

“True. And I accepted the invite despite my suspicions the groom was assisting Agent Peña before his departure.”

Horacio’s jaw ticked in anticipation of the treacherous tightrope he would need to tread here. He and Javier were out, done, without their badges or weapons. But Trujillo wasn’t.

“Suspicions or evidence?” he settled on in the end.

“Suspicions based on what I witnessed. But I think there’s irrefutable evidence his and Peña’s unfaltering loyalty rested with you rather than with me.”

“Trujillo also fired a bullet through Escobar’s skull.”

“Yes. An act I don’t judge him for in the circumstances. And rest assured, I have no intention of reporting my suspicions to anyone. Major Trujillo’s motives aren’t the ones still eluding me.”

Horacio swallowed down the dread burning the back of his throat like bile that was in danger of choking him if he didn’t get rid of it quickly. “What are you talking about?”

“You never struck me as a man afraid of death. And whilst I can understand the ambush might have made some reconsider their career choice, I wouldn’t have put you down as one of them.”

“Do you really think there was anything left for me in Search Bloc? My superiors already had your name on their lips to replace me long before I was shot.”

“In Search Bloc, perhaps not. But I’m sure the CNP would have allowed you back once the dust settled. They forgave you for far worse than being shot.”

Horacio huffed sarcastically despite how unwise it was to get sucked into the conversation. “I can assure you my decision was never about them. And it’s nothing you didn’t do for your son.”

That seemed to be the winning blow as Martínez nodded in concession. “True. We can’t afford to be afraid of death in our profession. But when it comes to the people we love, I must confess…I can’t apply the same rule.”

Horacio gripped the edge of the bench and focused intently on his feet, fearing even glancing in Martínez’s direction would fill in the few remaining blanks. He managed a minimal grunting noise in his throat that he hoped sounded like agreement.

“However, many times, I’ve asked myself why a man such as Peña would have destroyed his career so recklessly, and so close to the finish line. But I’ve been unable to settle on an answer.”

It wasn’t quite the change of subject Horacio hoped for. “Well, for starters,” he began, raising his gaze from his shoes at last, not out of a newly acquired sense of bravery but because he knew he needed to be convincing. “I wouldn’t read too much into Judy Moncada’s Get Out Of Jail Free Card.”

“Oh, I didn’t. I know Peña’s role was only a small part of something a lot bigger than he, you or I could control. But I have to wonder what leverage they had over him to make a deal with the devil impossible to refuse.”

Horacio had no intention of engaging further, but it wasn’t the first time he had wondered about the gap he left that was hastily – and bloodily – filled by Los Pepes. Would they even have been necessary if he'd never left? Or would they have tried their luck in approaching him with the offer of an allegiance? It caused his stomach to swoop if he focused too much on the people involved in that hypothetical scenario. But then he thought of Javier, and he knew with every fibre of his being if their roles had been reversed, he would have done the same.

“I’m sure every man has his reasons if the price is high enough.”

Martínez cocked his head in Horacio’s direction with a creased brow, holding eye contact for a fraction longer than Horacio was comfortable with. “Quite.”

Drunken laughter followed by a sniggered hush abruptly cut through the loud silence. The two Colonels – past and present – turned around to be met with the sight of Javier trying to control the swaying bulk of limbs belonging to his former partner.

Javier spotted them first and halted in his tracks, hoping the dim lighting hid the flash of horror on his face at the sight of two parallel universes colliding in front of him on a garden bench.

Steve apparently was oblivious to what they had stumbled across as he carried on along the path back to the party with just about enough of his faculties remaining to reunite with Connie.

“Everything alright?” Javier asked, fingers twitching on his right hand as he looked from one side of the bench to the other, then back again.

“Yeah, fine.” But Horacio’s eyes found Javier’s in the flecks of light from the lanterns hanging amongst the tree branches and told a more complicated story. “We were just comparing notes.”

“Oh yeah? Any interesting findings?” Javier’s eyes stayed fixed on Horacio’s or the floor for the most part, only risking a brief glance or two at Martínez.

“A few,” Martínez chipped in as he studied them more carefully than they were likely aware of. “Some that I will never be able to excuse or forgive, but I think I understand one thing more clearly now.”

“What’s that?” Horacio asked.

“I always believed there were two types of people in this world: those who rely on hope and those who rely on faith. But now, I see some rely on both.”

Before Javier or Horacio could formulate a response, Martínez announced it was time to locate his son as they had early shifts in the morning.

Their farewell involved little more than a handshake, a stern nod and an exchange of “Good luck.” But it was a necessary formality for all parties. A mark of mutual respect that wasn’t quite an offered or accepted olive branch but at least a truce. And that was enough.

------------------------------------------------------

“You okay?” Javier asked once Martínez had disappeared from view.

“Yeah. Well, I guess it was inevitable at some point.”

“Didn’t expect it to go like that, though. What the fuck did he mean? Just before he left. Does he know?”

“Maybe. Maybe not. I don’t think he’s telling anyone anything either way.”

“Agreed. We don’t have to stay if you’d rather -”

“No.” Horacio was quiet for a second, craning his ear towards the sound of the band behind the large cluster of trees they had sat amongst earlier. “I’ve got a better idea.”

He looked around them in all directions, twice, to be on the safe side, then took Javier by the hand and escorted him along one of the walkways. However, they branched off in a different direction than before, Horacio surprising himself with childhood memories of the layout of this place that he assumed were lost to the sands of time.

“What are -?”

“You’ll see.”

The path spiralled in circles, leaving them surrounded by greenery until they arrived at a softly lit water fountain in the centre. They were somehow closer to the sound of the music, even though they had moved further away from the party.

As they stilled, Javier looked expectantly at Horacio, who was already removing his jacket, placing it carefully on the ground and rolling up his shirt sleeves.

Javier did the same, still not understanding what this was all about, but the look in Horacio’s eye made him want to find out.

Horacio stepped closer, moonlight casting reflections from the fountain, illuminating the spark of hunger glinting in his pupils. “I’ve spent all night watching you dance with half the wedding party.” One hand dropped to Javier’s waist and tugged him forward into his hold. “It’s my turn now.”

Javier’s breath hitched as Horacio pressed them together, his hands automatically falling to Horacio’s hips to steady himself. “You only had to ask,” he said, the smoky timbre of his voice vibrating against Horacio’s ear.

“I thought line-dancing was more your thing.”

Javier nipped at Horacio’s earlobe in revenge. “That was when I was a kid. And you weren’t complaining about my dancing skills on our anniversary.”

Horacio let out an agreeable sigh as he chased the scrape of Javier’s teeth. “No, I wasn’t. But as nice as that was, we were hardly moving.”

“True. And if you must know, the Texas Two-Step got me several phone numbers back in the day. Lorraine’s being one of them. She was more into it than me, but it was actually kinda fun…for a while anyway.”

Memories of Saturday nights spent at old Texan dance halls and barn dances suddenly filled Javier’s mind. The faded aroma of leather and iron rust lingered alongside stale Lone Star beer, cigarette smoke and overpowering perfume as he led his partner across the worn wooden floor in time to the likes of Laura Canales and Hank Locklin.

His gaze would travel around the room – which was easier during a do-si-do – sometimes to make sure they didn’t collide with other dancers, sometimes to give anyone who caught his eye a discreet once-over. If he happened to hone in on a male dancer's tight-fitted jeans and fluid hip movements, it could easily be disguised as admiration for his female partner.

Not that it ever led to any encounters. Not there anyway; it wasn’t anonymous enough. But it was still a temptation. And yet another instance of feeling caught between two worlds: to have the tangible heat and beauty of a woman in his arms whilst fantasising about a mysterious, alluring man from afar, knowing he could never do the same with him in front of an audience.

“Juliana taught me to dance too. Or tried to, at least. She competed a lot when she was younger.”

Horacio smiled at the unexpected memory of them practising in her parents' kitchen, her father watching them like a hawk, glaring every time Horacio put a foot wrong or his hands fell lower than her waist despite the fact she was a grown woman. And his hands had already done much more than that whenever they had the place to themselves. His relationship with her father was the polar opposite of his relationship with Chucho, now he thought about it.

It wasn’t Juliana’s fault, though. And when they were alone on a crowded dancefloor, before his job and life came between them, before he understood the strange, borderline resentment twisting in his chest if he clocked male dancers with a particular look or build, they were content.

One of their favourite clubs ran a cumbia contest on the first Saturday of each month. The prize was tokenistic, free drinks on their next visit, but that didn’t matter on the occasions they came first when Juliana would tell her parents the good news at church the following day. The look on her father’s face as Horacio tried and failed to stifle a smug expression at her side would always be priceless.

“You ever danced any cumbia?” he asked Javier now.

“Some. At parties, weddings, quinceañeras…but that’s going back before I came to Colombia.” There might have been a few hazy nights in clubs and bars over here as well, but dancing hadn’t been his modus operandi in those days.

“So, you’ve never done it with a Colombian?”

Javier’s brow quirked of its own accord, and his tongue swept deliberately across his top lip. “No, er, you’d be my first.”

Horacio kept an impassive expression with his mouth, but his darkening pupils gave him away. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.”

“You know that won’t be necessary.”

Somewhere in the middle of their flirtation, they loosened their embrace, one hand linked in the space between them as their feet stepped back and forth, then side to side, their movements mirroring one another. Quick, quick, slow, quick, quick, slow.

Without warning, Horacio pulled Javier across his body and under their arms, spinning him around with force, then bringing them face-to-face again.

“Lucho Bermúdez was one of the great musical legends here in Colombia. Still is after his death last year. Mamá and my Abuelas listened to him all the time whenever the whole family got together. Do you know the name of this song?”

Horacio waited until their noses were almost touching to ask as their feet subconsciously glided over the paving stones beneath them.

Javier merely shook his head, their legs intermittently brushing together as their hips popped to the beat before he was spun once, twice, thrice until he was dizzy and out of breath.

“Tolú,” Horacio whispered as they reconverged, his lips skimming Javier’s and his eyes flickering shut as flashes of them on his cot in their shadowed quarters flooded into view.

Javier teased his bottom lip over Horacio’s, moustache swiping back and forth until they shuddered, a different first time as fresh as if it happened yesterday.

But they never stopped dancing. Horacio looped through their arms until he had his back to Javier, one hand each gripped at Horacio’s waist. They shimmied sideways, their free hands entwined by their shoulders to guide them back and forth, switching their hold each time they travelled across the floor. Another spin, another brush of legs, or an electric look making it clear which memories of Tolú they were thinking of.

The song ended, leaving only their charged breaths and the evening breeze rustling through the maze of trees protecting them from prying eyes.

Then, the band struck up again, so they kept dancing. Their bodies and minds synchronised as they paid homage to the country that had brought them together in the unlikeliest circumstances, Horacio interjecting with memories from childhood whenever old classics were played. He was even forced to swear on the cross between their chests that he had nothing to do with the band playing Noches de Cartagena of all songs.

------------------------------------------------------

By the time Javier prised his eyes open, unwelcome rays were already bursting through any gap in the blinds they could find. He craned his neck above Horacio’s still form, his watch on the nightstand reading 8:45am; ouch.

He’d survived on minimal sleep plenty of times, but he couldn’t remember getting home from a wedding past 5:00am before. If he was honest, they were tempted to call it a night once their private party for two ended. But it would have been rude to miss out on the dancers – professional this time – costumes and confetti of La Hora Loca. When in Colombia and all that.

They still had a few hours before they were to reconvene with the wedding party for the ultimate hangover cure of bandeja paisa, so Javier’s nose and moustache brushed over the nape of Horacio’s neck, arms slotting around him from behind.

A serene purr soon followed as Horacio stirred and leaned into Javier’s touch.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

Javier’s lips now worked their way to the side of Horacio’s neck, concentrating on a sweet spot below his ear.

“Liar.” Although Horacio’s whole body arched and his head tilted to give Javier what he wanted.

“Surprised I was awake before you, to be honest.”

“It took me a while to get to sleep…all of two and a bit hours ago.” Horacio winced into the pillow at how little rest he’d actually had.

“Everything okay?”

“Hmm, yeah.” He raised his head and shifted so he was lying face-to-face with Javier. “I was just thinking about my family.”

“Makes sense.”

“When we arrived, we were so focused on the wedding. I didn’t let myself think about what comes next. But now…”

“I said the same to Connie last night. But…maybe we’re ready to rip off the band-aid.”

“Maybe. Part of me just wanted to get it out of the way when I was lying awake. But you nodded off in record time.”

“I think you wore me out.”

“But you enjoyed it, though?”

“It was perfect.” Javier closed the space between them, seeking out Horacio’s lips until he was met with a hum of agreement.

Javier pushed his luck, ducking below Horacio’s ear and descending over the column of his throat. Testing the waters to see if Horacio wanted the distraction Javier was more than willing to provide. “And how’s this?”

“Pretty fucking perfect too.”

Their kisses started languorous due to their lack of sleep, building to something fervid as Horacio nipped at Javier’s pout, catching it between his teeth until it was plump and swollen.

Javier retaliated, coaxing Horacio’s tongue towards his with expert flicks, tasting faint traces of last night’s cigars, until he captured it and sucked, long and thorough.

Limbs tangled between bedsheets soon became Javier whimpering facedown into a pillow whilst Horacio dipped and devoured, creating a slick glide between Javier’s thighs, the relief visceral when lining up and pushing forwards.

Horacio experimented with bracing yet measured rotations as he mouthed along the expanse of Javier’s trapezius, lost in a sea of broad muscle. He’d always loved watching the fabric of Javier’s shirts stretch and strain at his upper back, an eye-catching contrast to the narrow hips his jeans hugged oh so tightly. And now, the shirt wasn’t required, and he was the one setting Javier’s skin alight, triggering a visible response to every touch or movement like putty in Horacio’s hands.

Javier loved being vindicated that there was nothing wrong with Horacio’s hips whatsoever. Of being denied any forewarning of what came next from biting down on a pillow with his eyes screwed shut, the only way he could avoid prematurely spilling all over the sheets beneath him. It was a close call several times, calming breaths required to refocus, a request for Horacio to stop or slow down needed before it was game over.

Knowing he reduced Javier to begging because it was too much put Horacio on thin ice, and any more pleas like that would have finished him off. But the throbbing of his cock was in sync with his pulse, loud and insistent, and keeping still wasn’t having the same effect anymore. The salty taste on his tongue as it swiped over the nape of Javier’s neck where the silver chain still remained was an aphrodisiac he couldn’t ignore.

“Fuck me,” he rasped against Javier’s ear.

Without hesitation, Javier flipped onto his back, the loss of contact causing an ache of frustration. But it was replaced by straddling, groping and grinding, propelling Horacio up the mattress until his thighs were encased around Javier’s head.

Now it was Javier’s turn to feast, spreading Horacio with vigour, darting, licking, kissing, leaving trails of saliva, moaning as his cock was engulfed and fingers danced over his balls.

The scratch of nails scored Horacio’s ass as he worked Javier over, lapping with greed, hollowing his cheeks, bobbing his head and switching up the strength of suction, putting everything they had learnt in Madrid into practice.

They pulled off before it was too late, grabbing the bottle of lube and lying supine across the mattress with Javier underneath Horacio.

Javier’s feet were planted flat on the bed, giving him enough purchase to buck upwards with force, one hand holding on at the waist whilst the other roamed freely across the plains of Horacio’s chest, kneading fistfuls of pectoral muscles and skimming over his rib cage down to his thighs.

Javier caressed each thigh in turn, circling and massaging with his thumb, marvelling at how the span of his hand only reached a fraction of the way around them. “I meant what I said last night. About how good a garter would look on you.” His glutes clenched as he propelled upwards for extra emphasis.

The seed was sewn in Javier’s head as he watched Horacio dress for the wedding. It wasn’t the first time Horacio had worn what was a standard part of his dress uniform. A trick of the trade amongst police and military to avoid sanctions for a creased shirt. But it was the first time Javier had seen the shirt stays sitting snugly around Horacio’s muscular thighs. It was the first time he wanted to slip his fingers underneath the neat straps, maybe twang them or pull them tighter with his teeth whilst on his knees. Or as Horacio rode him with his back to Javier, one side of his shirt unclipped, underwear and a single garter tantalisingly removed, the other kept secured in place.

A guttural groan rumbled through Horacio’s chest like he had read Javier’s mind. “What kind?” he breathed out, surprised by his eagerness to indulge Javier and how fast his hand shot to his cock.

Javier choked back expletives at Horacio’s question and the sight above him. “I was thinking something leather…with a buckle…to match your belt and boots.” Each punishing thrust broke up his speech with strained grunts as he spread Horacio’s thighs wider, manoeuvring him up and down at the same pace. “Maybe one on your arm too….and a harness…to go with your hat…cowboy.”

“Fuck,” Horacio panted into Javier’s mouth at an awkward angle on the pillow, stroking himself roughly. Sparks of arousal multiplied with each wrist jerk as he pictured the look Javier gave him during the belt contest. Imagined him buckling the firm yet supple material until it bound tightly against Horacio’s sensitive skin like armour only they were allowed to put on or take off.

Javier’s hand replaced Horacio’s as he let his cock be held in stasis, basking in the heat and comfort of their joined form. His fingers journeyed back to Horacio’s mouth, tracing over it until Horacio parted his lips for Javier to feed two, then three digits inside.

Horacio sucked down, tasting himself as well as Javier as he swirled and licked, swallowing past the knuckles; faster and greedier. But it wasn’t enough.

Maybe it was the false pretences kept up the previous day and night combined with what lay ahead, but Javier seemed too far away. He always did when they were in public, but even more so when wearing a three-piece suit at a romantic wedding that wasn’t and couldn’t be theirs. It was why they still relished the time they could spend alone. And why they had needed Madrid. Because all those hidden looks and blink-and-miss, ‘accidental’ unseen brushes of hands could only be suppressed for so long. Last night, it had spilt out as inadvertent foreplay. But now, they needed more.

“Turn around,” Horacio said after releasing Javier’s glistening fingers.

They lay heart-to-heart, Horacio on his back, legs wrapped around Javier. Javier’s tongue skimmed across the breadth of Horacio’s chest, taking his sweet time working over each nipple, the scrape of teeth causing Horacio to lift upwards until Javier plunged him back down again.

And Horacio didn’t resist, his mind and body in free flight as the weight of Javier anchored him, allowed him to feel each and every nerve vibrate, his arms sliding above his head in complete surrender, offering them for Javier to claim.

Javier plotted a course across any patch of bare skin he could reach, licking up and down Horacio’s underarms, inhaling the musky scent of sweat before switching to his triceps, then biceps. On the left, he mouthed his way along the muscles; any marks left intentional reassurances and promises for their present and future, their bodies mapped stories of their lives.

Along the right, he eased up when he came to the faded scar at the mid-point of Horacio’s shoulder, placing tender butterfly kisses over the blemished skin, blinking away visions of a bullet tearing it open and taking care not to let his teeth make unwanted contact with their past.

He gradually dragged his mouth away until their gaze met, the rise and fall of Horacio’s chest compelling Javier to lay his head on it, soothed by the steady beat and the massage at his scalp.

Satisfied, Javier lifted Horacio’s arms back above them, sweeping over the peaks and troughs of fortified shoulders, forearms and wrists until they slotted through fingers that clamped around his like a vice.

Javier rocked in a pounding rhythm, Horacio’s legs rising higher, pushing Javier deeper as compensation for being unable to reach out and touch. Horacio honed in on the lifeline at his fingertips, the stimulation against his prostate and the safety of Javier’s forehead, all thoughts about the upcoming days put on hold.

But Javier could sense Horacio needed more again. It was written all over the beautiful agony of his face and the silent request in his eyes.

So, hands unlocked to let fingernails brand skin, tug at damp strands of hair and graze over stubble, the metallic ice of the cross contrasting with the fire burning in the core of their chests as they danced more synchronised steps only they knew.

A change in angle caused a slow build of release to skirt the edges of Horacio’s limbs, toes curling as jolts of pleasure transformed into overflowing currents. The fuse was lit, a chain reaction of heat stoking a fire in the pit of his abdomen on the cusp of burning him from the inside out.

Another snap of hips, his own hand jerking his cock in a frenzy, a rush of white noise, shuddering, shaking breaths and a release of molten bliss across their stomachs.

The ripples kept coming as every sound, quiver or fluttering around Javier’s cock pushed him closer to the edge. With one final thrust, he finished inside Horacio, a desperate growl tearing from his throat, the brunt absorbed by Horacio’s left shoulder.

They didn’t move, preferring spent velvet kisses, the world now in slow motion.

Javier concentrated on Horacio’s nose and forehead, pouring everything into each gesture of affection until he whispered, “I love you. And it’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.”

“I love you too. And I know.”

------------------------------------------------------

They dozed a little too long after wearing each other out for the second time in 24 hours, so Horacio went ahead first, leaving Javier to shower and join him afterwards. But it made little difference to the proceedings as plenty of other guests were slow off the mark, too.

Tables were laid out around the nearby restaurant owned by Juana’s parents, leftover flower arrangements used as decorations because it would have been a shame to waste them. It was a much smaller space than the botanical gardens, but not all guests from the night before were expected to attend. A fact that brought immense relief to Horacio because he wouldn’t have to make conversation with a certain Colonel again.

Whilst waiting for Javier, he worked his way through his belated first coffee of the day and took a bite out of an arepa.

“Is there room for two more?”

Horacio raised his head to find Connie with Olivia in tow. “Of course.”

Connie did her best to encourage Olivia out of her hiding place behind her legs. “Come on, sweetie. Do you want something to eat?”

Olivia peeped out from behind Connie, eyeing Horacio with suspicion.

“Don’t mind her; she’s just a little shy and overtired this morning.”

“Some arepas are going spare if that helps?” Horacio kept his voice low and gentle, peering around Connie until he drew a curious expression out of Olivia.

Olivia looked up at her mother, who nodded for reassurance.

“Go ahead.”

Olivia left her hiding place and took the chair between Horacio and Connie, mumbling a thank you as she ate.

“Help yourself, too.”

“Oh, no, thanks. I’ll wait for Steve, whose painkillers should hopefully be kicking in about now. I don’t feel too bad, but I left him groaning into his pillow. Were you and Javi in the same state this morning?”

Horacio fought down a smirk with every strength of his being. “Something like that.”

“I knew it was a smart move to travel to Cartagena tomorrow instead.”

“Where are you staying?”

“A resort just off La Boquilla beach. Steve and I would’ve preferred something quieter, but there’s more to keep kids busy where we’re at.”

“I don’t know the area well, but it is a nice coast up there. With plenty more arepas.” Horacio directed his last sentence at Olivia, who had already made a start on her second.

She slowed her chewing before smiling at Horacio, who had remembered a trick or two from the younger days of dealing with his nieces and nephews. If all else failed, food usually won them round.

“I’ve only seen Medellín and Bogotá, so it’ll be nice to get out of the big cities for a change.”

Horacio cleared his throat and took a long sip of his drink. “Yeah, it will.”

Connie leaned across the table to retrieve a freshly replenished pot of coffee and poured into her cup. “It’s a shame we won’t get a chance to see Manizales this time. But we’ll be thinking about it anyway.”

Horacio was startled out of his own coffee and met Connie’s eye, unsure how to respond before settling on a silent nod of thanks. “Maybe next time if all goes well.”

“I think we’d like that. Breaks like this are few and far between now we’re both back working.”

“How’s Miami these days?”

“Busy now we’re juggling our schedules with Liv’s. And we still have bad days sometimes, of course.” Connie gave Horacio a pointed look when talking of bad days, choosing her words carefully with Olivia in earshot. “But things are better now we’ve got more routine again…more stability.”

“Sounds familiar. I find being in the same country helps, too,” Horacio added with a wry smile.

“Exactly. Now we’re out the other side.”

“Yeah.”

They shared a knowing look, not wanting to say too much in front of Olivia about everything they had been through. It was hard to believe how much had happened and changed in the last few years, and it was clear everyone was still processing it all.

“How’s your arm doing now?” Connie asked in a hurry, keeping the mood light for the sake of her daughter.

“It’s as good as new. Well, almost. The ranch kept me moving. I think I built back more muscle than I had before. And I kept up strengthening exercises in Madrid.”

“Wow, you’re doing better than most of my patients. I never had to tell you off once.”

“I don’t follow many orders, but it wasn’t worth my arm – or life – to ignore yours. So, thank you.”

“Try telling that to Steve...or this one here. But seriously, I’m just glad I could help. Especially when I hear you might be making ranch life more permanent?” There was a conspiratorial tone to her question. A question she clearly knew the answer to already but was having fun asking regardless.

“That’s the plan, hopefully. Madrid was always supposed to be temporary.”

“But it helped?”

“Yeah. It was exactly what we needed. And maybe you’ll find Cartagena is what you need.”

“I think we will.”

There was that look again, one that spoke volumes about their shared understanding, even if their experiences were different.

Horacio’s gaze drifted up to Javier, who still wore his aviators until he flopped down at their table, already reaching for a cup and the coffee pot.

“Morning.”

“Afternoon, Javi,” Connie greeted with a wink.

“Very funny. But looks like I still beat your husband.”

“Don’t suppose you saw him on your way over?”

“Nope. I’m sure he’ll appear once the food does.”

Javier was right, of course. A worse-for-wear Steve arrived as the bandeja paisa was brought to the tables before they tucked into huge hot trays of beans, rice, chicharrón, chorizo, carne en polvo, plantain, avocado, fried egg and more arepas.

They ate in comfortable silence, letting the food work its magic and fill them up for the rest of the day, highlights from the reception still fresh in everyone’s minds despite their current weariness.

Before long, it was time to wave the newlyweds off on their honeymoon to Bequia. Their goodbyes were short and sweet, knowing they would be keeping in touch long after the celebrations were over, especially when Trujillo’s parting words were, “I’ll be waiting for my ranch invitation in the post.”

And even through the loud crowd of well-wishers, he managed to hear the mumbled “Cheeky fucker” echoed back at him in unison.

------------------------------------------------------

Javier and Horacio stayed to finish their coffees once the beeps of the wedding car disappeared into the distance, the majority of the party now dispersed and leaving them sat alone.

“Pops rang just before I left the hotel. Think he wanted to check in before…well, y’know.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, fine. The only bit of news he asked me to pass on was about him being offered first refusal on Ciro’s and Malena’s place.”

The fact the Ortegas were selling up wasn’t a surprise. Javier and Horacio had spent last Christmas in Laredo again, where Ciro and Malena had brought around a fresh batch of sopaipillas over the festive period. In the preceding months, they had gone back and forth on moving, but by December, they were set on putting the farm on the market in the New Year.

Horacio nodded slowly, his brow drawn tight across his forehead as he considered this new development carefully. “Makes sense.”

“Do you think he’ll seriously consider it at his age?”

“I think he has to. We buy the majority of our feed grain from them. Selling to an outsider could risk price hikes and shortages, or the new owners might want to supply to someone else. It’d be a big gamble. But if your father bought them out, then kept their staff on, used their expertise, maybe even increased the livestock with some of the extra land…I think it could be workable.”

Horacio was aware he was being watched and glanced up to face his audience. “What?”

“Nothing.” Although Javier knew his face told another story. “I just don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak such fluent cowboy before.”

“I’m not a—”

“Not yet,” Javier finished for him. “And I never said it was a bad thing.”

------------------------------------------------------

After every funeral, an additional service was held exclusively for CNP officers to attend. Whilst gravestones were located across Colombia in countless cemeteries, a modest wooden cross bearing a name was planted for each loss in the consecrated soil around the corner from Carlos Holguín.

Horacio had paid his respects here more times than he wished to remember, but he still wasn’t prepared for how vast the sea of the dead had become since his last visit. It was a silent expanse covering the grass for as far as the eye could see, the sole sign of life the weeds and wildflowers shooting up between the rows he walked through.

He recognised some names and could clearly picture their ashen-faced relatives as though it was yesterday when he stood on their doorsteps, hat in hand and solemn expression fixed in place. Others were indistinguishable from the rest. An indicator of the extent of the collateral damage and how long he had been away now.

As he stood in his civilian clothes, he felt strangely underdressed. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to wear his usual ranch attire since being back in Colombia and had returned to the beige khakis and polo shirts that felt like an unofficial uniform of their own. One that allowed him to get away with wholly unofficial business in the past, but today wasn’t about him. Today was about them. All of them. No matter who they were.

Perhaps against his better judgement, with the help of Trujillo, he had located the graves of Diana Turbay and Carolina García Velásquez. He didn't allow himself to remember Carolina’s name at the time, even though she had been plastered all over the papers alongside mysterious references to an “unidentified officer of the National Police” leading the raid on La Dispensaria. A story eerily repeated with Diana’s death.

He didn’t linger at their gravesides. But on those occasions, just like this one, Horacio bowed his head, recited a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.

“Lo siento,” were the only words spoken before he retreated from the churchyard.

He had done all he could here for now, and it was time to…not forget but to move on. It was time to face his fears and look to the future. It was time to let old ghosts rest once and for all.

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

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uramilf · 9 months

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Day Eleven - Home for Christmas

“Are you ready to go?” Y/N asked whilst hugging her boyfriend, face pressed against his chest. “Yep, car’s all packed.” “We’d better go then, yeah?” They made sure the house was locked properly before getting in the car, Mayhem curled up in the back seat. The car journey to Matty’s mum’s would be a few hours, so they made sure they had a shared playlist ready to go.

They arrived mid-afternoon and Y/N’s hands were practically shaking as they walked to the door. “Baby, please, please don’t be nervous. They’re all gonna-” He was cut off by the door swinging open and a loud squeal of his girlfriend’s name. “Y/N! Oh, you’re so beautiful! I’ve been so excited to finally meet you!” Denise pulled her son’s girlfriend into a warm hug. “It’s so lovely to meet you!” she replied, reciprocating the hug. “Oh, come in, come in! Hello, Matty darling.” She disappeared inside with Y/N in tow, Matty standing on the doorstep baffled at the lack of attention on him.

—————

A few hours later, Y/N had met the entire family and loved every last one of them. Denise had barely left her side, asking every possible question about her life and telling her she was beautiful every few minutes. “You’re just such a lovely girl. I hope my Matty’s treating you well!” “Of course he is, I wouldn’t allow anything else,” Y/N giggled. “You’ve definitely raised two very nice boys.” “Oh, I tried my hardest!” Matty smiled at his brother, thrilled to see the pair getting on so well.

—————

Christmas Eve was incredible. The whole family watching movies, playing games, eating together. Y/N hadn’t had a big family Christmas in a long time, and it felt incredible.

She and Matty were curled up together in the spare bedroom that night. “I love your family,” Y/N whispered into the darkness. “I told you,” Matty mumbled into her hair, pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead. “And they love you too. Just like I knew they would.” “Go to sleep or Santa won’t come,” Y/N scolded. “Okay, okay. You should go tell Louis that though. He’s 22 and he still can’t sleep on Christmas Eve.” “Same as me, then,” Y/N yawned. “Maybe not this year, though, I’m worn out.” She drifted off to sleep soon after, Matty following in quick succession.

—————

“Wake up you two, it’s Christmas!” Denise called, knocking the bedroom door. Y/N’s eyes opened and it didn’t take her long to jump on top of Matty and shower his face in kisses. “Wake up! C’mon, babe!” Matty yawned widely, pulling Y/N down into a kiss. “Merry Christmas, darling. I love you.” “I love you too. Now come on! Your mum’s already up, let’s go!”

Y/N didn’t expect anything from anyone, but she ended up with a pile of presents from Matty, Denise, Tim and Louis. A scarf, a scented candle, fluffy socks. All her favourite things. She saved Matty’s gift to last, a beautiful necklace with a little butterfly charm. She had bought him a watch he’d been wanting, and didn’t expect it to be a big deal, but he nearly cried on opening it, showing it around to his entire family with a beaming smile.

—————

Christmas dinner was absolutely incredible, and Matty and Y/N ended up lounging around on the sofa for practically the rest of the day after eating far too much.

Matty went to bed and left Y/N in the living room with his mum. “Darling, thank you for coming. I know it was scary meeting us all so soon. But I couldn’t be happier that you’re here.” “Thank you for having me,” Y/N pulled her into a hug. “It was a bit scary, but you’re genuinely all the sweetest people I’ve ever met. Thank you.” “Don’t you worry about it, my love. I love you already. And I can’t wait to get to know you better! Let’s go for a walk tomorrow, just me and you!” “Aw, I’d love that! Yes, definitely.” “I can’t wait, darling. Now, you get some rest and I’ll see you in the morning.”

Y/N said goodnight and went upstairs to crawl into bed beside her boyfriend. “Night, baby. I love you.” He was already asleep, but Y/N could’ve sworn she saw a faint smile on his lips.

#the 1975 #matty healy #matty healy x reader #matty healy imagines #christmas75

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dimsilver · 11 months

Text

The Icthus Directive

(part 1)

16:04:22 Galaxy Standard Time

Agent Kelton entered the numbers into the menu as precisely as his exosuit gloves would let him. 72% baroque orchestra. 28% smooth jazz.

He tapped a final button, flicked off the suit’s forearm screen, and grinned as the first notes sounded gently in his earpiece. Everyone had their own blends of automusic these days, but he was proud of this one. He’d spent weeks adjusting the percentages until the jazz notes wavered just between the melody and the continuo, supporting but not overwhelming the whole.

He started the rover again. Music should help the drive go faster. The planet Nereus was known for its constant pale-green twilight, bare, jutting landscape…and not much else. Working in census compliance didn’t really set you up for trips to the luxury biosphere planets.

Just one more isolated mining settlement to go.

18:20:37 GST

Kelton jerked the rover to the left as its fat rubber tires nearly collided with yet another spiky rock jutting from the canyon floor.

He could see the end of the canyon ahead, where one wall sank back into a dusty twilit plain. It couldn’t come soon enough. He’d been awake almost a full standard day, and he’d spent the last hour weaving through the canyon, straining to see ahead. The rover’s headlights were bright enough, but they turned the rocks nearest him into knife-sharp, mile-long shadows that obscured everything in their path.

He flexed one hand, sore from clenching the wheel. Right, right again, left—around a rock that towered taller than a D-class ship. He was nearly there.

And that’s when the tire popped.

Kelton knew by instinct what the sharp jerk was even as it flung him forward. He clung to the wheel as the rover careened to the right, wrenching it into a clear spot. He slammed on the brakes and slid to an unsteady halt. The rover rocked forward, then sideways, as any remaining air left the shredded tire in a rush.

Dust clouded and swirled in the headlights. Theorbo and bass guitar twanged together in his ear.

He took a long breath, switched off the automusic, and cursed. Very loudly.

Survival wasn’t the issue. The rover carried emergency oxygen and food, even a foldable shelter in case of something like this. This wasn’t the first time he’d broken down while on a job.

But the closest company craft was on the literal other side of the planet, over in Luton. Devor had taken it to do the big, spread-out mining centers there, leaving him with the rover for the little ones. He’d told her it wouldn’t be a problem.

Knowing her, she’d decide it was most efficient to finish up her compliance visits before coming to his rescue—and she’d expect him to get his last one finished anyway.

Flicking on his forearm screen, he typed a quick message and activated his location beacon.

I’ve broken down a few miles out from Settlement A412. Rover is currently inoperable and will need to be transported for maintenance. I’ll plan to meet you at A412 at your earliest convenience.

Scowling, he pressed “send.”

Then he swung down from the rover. Boots crunching in the dusty gravel, he walked around to the back and unhooked the survival essentials pack. With a grunt, he swung it unto his shoulders and fastened the straps.

He’d rather get to A412 tonight. The shelter wasn’t comfortable.

Cursing again, Kelton switched off the rover, sending his surroundings into stark blackness. Quickly, he turned on his exosuit’s own headlight. Then he marked his current coordinates, set up the routing system, and started walking.

He didn’t have Settlement A412’s exact coordinates—that was the other problem. Its census agreements hadn’t been updated in over ten years. An embarrassment to the Milky Way Authority, on all counts—one he would soon correct. But first, he had to get to the general area, keeping his eyes open for the domed shelters that would be burrowed into the rocks beside the yawning mining shafts. And he was tired.

He hadn’t walked for more than a few minutes when he saw a figure ahead—silhouetted in the pale light just beyond the canyon’s end. It seemed to be walking slowly in his direction. He tensed a little, gloved fingers twitching towards the stun rod clipped to his thigh, then dropping again. A lone traveler, on foot, was unusual. But Nereus wasn’t known for violence or gang activity.

The figure continued its slow progress toward him. As they drew even with another and his headlight flashed over it, he saw that it was an android.

An old DG-30 unit. Emphasis on old—a long crack ran down one of its legs, and the eye-sensors were separate, mounted on top of the head. Probably a pre-biometric scanning model. No visible weapons.

It had to be from Settlement A412. But why was it ranging miles away?

Kelton took a step closer. “Directive?” he asked it.

“Directive,” said a cool, carefully accented voice. “Feed the hungry. Give drink to the thirsty. Clothe the naked. Shelter the homeless. Visit the sick. Bury the dead.”

The directive was non-standard. Not mining protocol, that was for sure. The unit paused, as if waiting.

Then suddenly it bent at the waist, reached out a rust-spotted finger, and traced a shape into the fine gray dust. Two curving lines, like segments of a circle, meeting at one point and crossing at another.

He had hoped that the DG-30 would show him the way. But the scratched shape didn’t look like a map.

Kelton leaned forward and sent a visual search query for the symbol. But the results pane at the bottom of his vision came back empty.

The unit’s two greenish eye-sensors were tilted toward him. “I don’t understand,” he told it.

It paused again, as if recalibrating, then asked a new question.

“What is your need?” The metallic voice had a touch of sympathy.

“Nothing,” Kelton began; then, remembering its odd directive in a sudden flash of genius—“I mean, I’m homeless.”

“Homeless,” repeated the android. “No place of residence?”

“None,” he answered, hoping it somehow wouldn’t scan his identity chip.

It paused again. Then it nodded.

“Follow me,” it said, and it turned and began walking.

That worked?

Kelton followed. They crunched along in silence, out of the dark canyon, and struck out across the plain. For the first time in hours, he felt like laughing. The whole interaction had been so strange—just a few words, and now the unit was taking him where he needed to go. And the shape it had drawn? He’d have to ask about it at the mining settlement.

Odd that the visual search hadn’t found anything.

(part 2 coming soon)

@inklings-challenge

#yes I finally wrote this all tonight #part 2 coming tomorrow probably #so for now I’m not tagging it as incomplete #the Icthus directive #dimsilver writes #inklingschallenge #team Lewis #genre: space travel #theme: works of mercy #(all of them)#inklings challenge 2023

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kittkatattacks · 1 month

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Wip Wednesday 8/7/24

Here are my sentences from last weeks Wip Wednesday :)

Perfect season 20-22 for:

@aparticularbandit @tamsinswriting

They stay up on the roof not nearly long enough for Neil, but they have afternoon practice, so he doesn’t complain as they make their way down.

They head over to Andrew’s dorm to pick up the rest of the group and then make their way down to the parking lot.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Practice goes as well as it can with only 8 players, which is to say it sucks. Kevin is practically seething afterwards, but Wymack does a good enough job of hitting on the points that they need to work on as a team.

It helps ease some of Kevin’s anger and frustration, but Neil already knows that he’ll spend the next few hours ranting about it to him and planning on what they should work on before their next game.

When they get back to the dorm after practice and dinner, Neil sits in one of the bean bag chairs knowing that Kevin will join him and prepares for a long strategy session.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

AFTG space au for:

@gnomer-denois @zyrafowe-sny @scifikimmi @somefishycat @anachronismstellar @adhdavinci

“Oh, shit,” Neil says, glancing at the clock on the wall, “I’ve got to go, my next class is about to start.”

“Mmhmm, see you later then,” Jean says, waving him away with his fork.

Neil nods in response, dumps his tray and dishes in their respective bins and then heads off to his advanced math class.

He makes it to class with enough time to get a seat near the back and settles in for another boring syllabus overview.

Neil stumbles into the dorm, throwing off his shoes and backpack, and makes his way over to the fridge.

He grabs a water bottle and makes his way over to the couch where Jean is reading.

“You couldn’t wait huh?” Jean asks, lowering his book just enough to look at Neil.

Neil shrugs, “I got out early and it’s nice outside. What was I supposed to do, not run back here?”

Jean sighs in response, “and how early did you get out? You look like you’ve been running for a while.”

“Um,” Neil says, and then drinks the rest of his water to buy himself some time, “about an hour and a half ago.”

Jean sighs again and sets his book down on the coffee table in front of them. “You said you weren’t going to do this anymore.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Neil says, “I left class and the next thing I knew I was running and I couldn’t stop.”

“I know,” Jean says, his face softening, “just let me know next time, okay?”

“I will. Still up for a jog around campus later?”

“Of course. Now, since you're here,” Jean says, not so subtly changing the topic, “can you help me with my pen pal letter?”

“Yeah,” Neil answers, getting up to go get their laptops, “I’ve been meaning to check my email anyways to see if I got a reply yet.”

“You finished yours already? Jean asks, and when Neil comes back into the room and nods in response he says, clutching a hand to his chest dramatically, “and you didn’t even tell me.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

YLPWBOYF for:

@wizisbored @eriquin

“Now, she says, holding the knife up to the burn on his left cheek, “where is she?”

“I already told you,” Nathaniel says, the pain from his wounds causing him to wince against his will. “I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” Lola says, tapping the knife against his cheek, causing pain to radiate outwards from the fresh burn. “I don’t believe you. What about you, Rome, do you believe him?”

“He sounds like he’s telling the truth,” he hears Romero say, “but might as well make sure.”

Nathaniel hears the pop of the dashboard lighter again and does his best to mentally prepare for what is about to happen.

Despite knowing it's futile, he fights back against Lola’s hold on him, trying his best to get her off of him. In response she presses her body fully down on top of him, leaving him no room to move without some part of her touching him.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

DMRA for:

@post-and-out @1attheedge @enigma-the-mysterious

“‘I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Your funeral,” Kevin says, shaking his head.

Kevin begins walking towards the door that leads back out into the hallway, motioning for him to follow, but Aaron stops him before he can make it past the door. “You don’t have to worry about the rest of the tour Day, I’d much rather you show me to the microscopy lab.”

“The lab?”

“Yep, I’d like to take a look at the equipment. Something wrong with that?”

“No, It’s just,” Kevin says looking around the hallway, “this place is laid out like a mouse maze. You could get lost really easily. Are you sure you’ll be able to navigate it?”

“ Am I sure, Day? Of course I am,” Aaron says, cocking his head to one side and allowing himself to smirk.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

#aftg #aftg fanfic #aftg andreil #neil josten #andrew minyard #ao3 fanfic #wip wednesday #all for the game #aaron minyard #kevin day

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animalsalvationassociation · 2 months

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Small Q&A:

No I’m not back but I had a few generalized questions about the blog popping up so I thought I’d answer a few just to clear the air. Yes I am still on hiatus.

Question 1: Watermarks

For anyone confused as to the watermarks that are on my art pieces — @cookiecrumbles52palace is my main user for all of my art blogs except for secondary art accounts like character creation pages on Instagram/TikTok.

[ Here is an official link to all of my socials. ]

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[ And this is if you want to learn more about me ]

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Question 2: How do art??

“How are you so good?”, “Wow I wish I could be like you!”, “You’re so talented I could never!”

It never gets easier answering this. Every artist/creative would agree with me, these are by far the most asked questions I get on literally a daily basis. They bring me joy and the validation I’ve always wanted but at the same time they make me extremely sad and uncomfortable.

As of 09/2024 I will be hitting my 12 year mark of being an artist and a writer. It’s a rough estimate of when I began, but I basically started in September around the age of 11.

“What got you started?” you ask?

The Ninja Turtles.

When I was a kid that’s all I wanted to do. I wanted to be a comic book artist for a living (my favorite show at the time being Nickelodeon’s 2k12 TMNT) I remember my lonely days of sitting on my bedroom floor spending hours a day drawing just a few panels at a time. And although I was a kid with no friends, starting a new school year in a new house/school/state, I at least had my stories however monstrously drawn they were.

Now nearly 12 years later I’m self taught, I work a part time job in retail, I live at home with my family at 22. And my dream is to be a published author illustrating her own stories. I’ve already illustrated a published book but eventually I want to create for my own novels.

I’m still learning how to adult and take care of myself. And let’s be honest I don’t do a very good job at either of those things, I have a lot of health problems and my emotional state keeps me from doing a lot of things. But I wouldn’t change my situation for the world because even though I’m struggling, I’m happy.

Basically my point is . . . no matter where you are on your creative journey you have a bright future ahead of you. You’re going to make mistakes and hit a million roadblocks, but if you keep working and believing in yourself then you’re gonna go far. My best friend in the whole wide world is my younger self, because she kept pushing even when others had given up on her and I couldn’t be more proud of what she became. Even if it’s hard to look in the mirror sometimes.

Question 3: DM / Asks / Art Requests / Comms

I’m officially sorting through my asks. I’ve been having some spam asks recently and I will be deleting some of the ones I don’t feel comfortable answering. I am sorry but I have my limits, if your ask gets featured then it gets featured I don’t know what else to tell you. (I don’t know how to phrase this kindly)

Adding to that, do not follow me if you expect to get art requests in return. Just because you asked nicely doesn’t mean I’m going to spend my precious free time making something for you. If I wanted to do commissions or requests then I would put that in the bio or in a pinned post.

Art is one of the single most important hobbies for me alongside my writing. It’s a way for me to escape without having to leave my room/house. Please understand, there are plenty of other artists out there with amazing art that would love to handle your commission or requests that probably have so much more free time than I do. And I would be happy to point them out to you because they probably need the money more than I do.

Question 4: Returning??

“Man Cookie, you’ve been gone for a few weeks like you said you would, but do you have a date of when you’ll be coming back??”

Tbh with you, no. I’ve been trying really hard this year to involve myself in Art Fight, and so far I’ve been having a lot of fun doing that as well as working on some other projects like my Voltron fanfic or my novels.

But when it comes to Octonauts I’ve been really nervous about getting back into things. Which is pretty silly but kinda makes sense considering everything I’ve been creating in the last few months all on a whim.

I think my plan is to finally start posting again the second or third week of August. The first week and a half I’ll be at a family reunion, and if I’m correct I should have some time to just relax and get into my own head space.

No promises but I may end up working on a headcanons post for the A.S.A. Au to help solidify some things for our wonderful Octonauts. Not sure when it will be done but I’ve already started on Kwazii’s. Other than that no art until I’m off my hiatus.

I promise I haven’t forgotten about any of you, and thank you for the wonderful comments you left on my last post. Just thinking about it makes me want to cry all over again! 😭

Have a wonderful day and please stay safe/healthy! I love you all! And a special thank you for making it to the end of the post, you’re wonderful. Here’s a cookie 🍪

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kpopsexstories · 4 months

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NCT MOST MEMORABLE SEX – BONUS STORY: SHOTARO Pt. 1/2

This story is a bonus story to my Most Memorable Sexual Experiences of NCT series. I have covered every single member of NCT and WayV, so check it out if you want to read more smut 🙂

Story: NCT/Riize Shotaro meets a beautiful (and horny) girl at a spa resort in Japan.

Type: MEDIUM

Content: Sweet/cute, Missionary, Interrupted by parents

Word Count: 4,349 (8,005 incl. Pt. 2)

Members: Shotaro, (Yuta)

BONUS Story #22: SHOTARO Pt. 1 (of 2)

“I’ve had sex!” Shotaro said and smirked. He was seated on a rock in a natural hotspring, only his head visible above the surface of the steamy water.

Yuta's insinuation had almost offended him. Shotaro glared at his friend who had brought up the topic of sex and virginity.

“But it’s been a while,” he added. “Since I debuted – since I became a trainee really – life's been too hectic.”

“It gets easier,” Yuta said.

Shotaro laughed. “What does? Idol life or sex?”

“Idol life!” Yuta exclaimed and grinned. “But both, I guess.”

They were having a great time in Japan, at a spa resort paid for by the company, and had been talking in the hotspring for nearly an hour.

Doing something just the two of them had been Yuta's idea and it served two purposes. First, being the only other Japanese member he had made it his personal mission to make Shotaro feel welcome and included. The resort was a chance for them to bond.

Second, the company saw it as an opportunity to film some content; they loved the idea from the start.

Their obligations to the company were already over. Bow they had the rest of the weekend to themselves.

Yuta and Shotaro talked and giggled in the privacy of the natural pool, while enjoying the warm water and soothing steam. The secluded area was surrounded by rocks, colorful flowers, lush bushes and tall trees.

A resort – with massages, treatments and even a personal sauna in the suite they shared – had been the company’s choice. It wasn’t the type of trip either of them would have suggested themselves. But it served both the purpose of the company getting what it wanted, and Yuta and Shotaro getting to know each other better. The serene location and relaxing atmosphere was good for them, and Shotaro genuinely loved their time in it. Even if the subject of this story had never happened.

Their conversations since they arrived at the resort had already covered a lot of ground. From Yuta's experience and stories about the other members, to Shotaro’s life before his trainee days, and now sex – Shotaro already felt like he could talk about anything with his new friend, and that was exactly what Yuta had aimed for. He had been successful in his mission to make Shotaro feel seen among the boys.

The hotsprings were the unique selling point of the resort, and hugely popular. They were something you had to book in advance and they came with a time slot. Deep in their conversation, Yuta and Shotaro realized that they’d overstayed their welcome when a member of staff came by a second time to inform them that their time was up.

They promised to get out of the water but wanted to finish their chat. When the staff bowed and left, they quickly forgot all about leaving again.

The staff never returned. Shotaro’s heart sank when a girl in a red bikini came over and said hi, and placed her towel on a rock. He was embarrassed by the fact that they were still there, and stunned by how great the half-naked girl looked. Her presence immediately made him feel shy, and he didn't quite know where to direct his eyes.

“Hi,” he said back, while quickly making his way to the natural rock steps leading up from the pool.

Yuta was right behind him. “We're so sorry, we’ll get out of your way.”

“Don’t,” the girl said. “There’s plenty of room. You can stay if you like.”

“No, it's your turn,” Shotaro said. He quickly adjusted his swim shorts when his body surfaced, as they clung to his skin and clearly showed the outline of his dick.

But the girl insisted. When Shotaro was on dry land, she stepped forward and placed a hand on his bare chest to stop him.

“Please,” she said. “You were saying something about your first love. I want to hear the rest of it.”

Now Shotaro was definitely embarrassed. He wanted to sink through the ground. The half-naked girl in front of him was gorgeous, had her hand firmly planted on his heart, and had overheard them when he shared something private.

For a moment he froze on the spot as an electric spark shot through his body. Her touch felt surprising but amazing. Maybe it had indeed been too long since the last time he felt a woman.

Yuta was quicker to act and more confident. He put an arm around his friend as he came up from behind.

“I need a nap before dinner, but my friend can stay if he wants to.”

He smiled at the girl, then at Shotaro, who remained speechless.

“Please,” the girl said. “I'd like the company. My parents are having a romantic massage or something, so I'm all alone. Stay and talk to me?”

Yuta smiled to himself. This was too good to be true. If he could help Shotaro land a girl, or at least make a friend, that would take their trip to the next level and make it even more memorable.

Yuta excused himself, but he gave Shotaro a stern yet encouraging look. “Stay,” he insisted and smiled. ”I'll be in the room if you need me.”

And with that, Yuta picked up his towel and abruptly left. Shotaro remained stunned, not quite sure what to do in this situation. He desperately wanted to stay, but felt like he shouldn’t. Yuta was already gone though, and the girl smiled innocently at him.

Fuck it, he thought and nodded slowly at the girl. Her face lit up and she finally let go of his chest.

He followed the girl back into the water. If both she and Yuta wanted him there, he was definitely up for another hour in the pool.

In fact, he suddenly felt excited. This was such a sudden and unexpected turn of events, and the girl was both hot and friendly.

Her name was Ema, and not only was she nice and cute, but she was talkative, confident and relaxed. She asked a lot of questions which made Shotaro feel at ease, and the two immediately hit it off.

He quickly learned that Ema was at the resort with her parents, an annual tradition. She was from Tokyo but had local relatives. She had no idea who Yuta or Shotaro were, which was a good thing. Not that he was that famous, not yet anyway.

Shotaro, in turn, answered all questions about himself, but avoided too many details about his work. He wanted the girl to like him for who he was, not for what he did for a living. The strategy worked.

About half an hour into their steamy chat, something happened that did indeed take the trip to the next level. Yuta's internal hopes became reality when Shotaro leaned in, listening intently to whatever Ema was talking about, and she suddenly gave him a kiss on the lips.

It didn't come from nowhere. During their chat they had both moved ever closer to each other. Ema was flirting, and the kiss came quite naturally. It felt good.

To her delight, Shotaro kissed her back. Soon they were making out in the steam, and for the first time since Yuta brought up the topic of sex in conversation, the possibility of having sex today crossed Shotaro's mind. His dick started growing out of control.

He wasn't inexperienced, but it had indeed been quite some time. Now, the time in the hotspring was suddenly not just about having a relaxing time, but about seeing how far things would go with the girl he'd just met.

As they made out in the water, Shotaro bent his knees and covered up his crotch, to hide his boner. Their innocent kissing gradually led to touching, and it wasn't long before their hands were all over each other's warm bodies.

The lovely moment was interrupted when a man in a white piké and dark blue shorts suddenly appeared. “Hi,” he said apologetically. “I hope you’ve enjoyed your time in our hotsprings.”

Ema and Shotaro quickly let go of each other.

“Yes, thank you,” she said and smiled. “We’ll get out now.”

The man smiled and bowed at them. When he was gone, they began to giggle.

“I guess we have to leave,” Ema said. She moved away from Shotaro and started making her way up the stone steps. Then she turned around, smiled seductively at the man watching her every move, and asked: “Will you walk me to my suite?”

What does she want? Shotaro wondered when he nodded eagerly and started following her. “Sure,” he said, and couldn’t help but stare at her ass when she swirled around and stepped out of the water.

The way to the hotsprings was through a beautiful park, with paths winding past bushes and trees, and the occasional sign to various facilities. Side by side, Ema and Shotaro walked and talked as they made their way back to the main building of the resort. Shotaro kept holding his towel in front of his bulge, very self-aware and unable to get his boner in check. Damn she's beautiful.

On the way they passed a public changing room. “I got changed in my room,” Ema stated factually when she saw the sign. Shotaro merely smiled at her and kept walking.

The suites were located in a wide corridor with white walls and serene artwork. They entered through a side door, the quickest way to the hotsprings from the rooms. Ema stopped outside door number 12.

“This is me,” she said. “Which room are you and your friend in?”

“21,” Shotaro said. “It’s down that way. But I actually got changed in the park and left my key card there.”

“What? Why didn’t you say something? That’s so sweet, you walked me all the way here. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” Shotaro said and faced the floor, an adorable, faint smile on his face.

Ema was smitten by his sweet and shy expression. She saw an opportunity and decided to take it.

“Well, we’re here now,” she said. “Do you want to come in? Let me get changed and I’ll walk back with you.”

“No, don’t worry,” Shotaro said calmly. But on the inside his thoughts were screaming and his heart was beating out of his chest. He felt his face turn red.

“Please,” Ema insisted. And Shotaro was endlessly thankful that she did, or the rest of their day might not have turned out as great as it did. “I'll be quick, I promise.”

Ema opened the door and stepped inside. She turned around, held it open, and nodded for Shotaro to enter.

“Alright,” he finally said. It was definitely the right decision.

The room was almost identical to the one Shotaro and Yuta were staying in, but larger with a double bed to the far left, and a single bed along the wall to the right. It was airy, white and there were two large windows facing a little garden. By the larger bed was a door to a bathroom, and by the foot of the smaller bed was a door leading in to the private sauna of the cozy suite, a signature feature of all the rooms at the resort.

“My parents sleep over there,” Ema said. “I’m in this bed. Sit down, I won’t be long.”

The single bed was perfectly made, and Shotaro placed down his towel before he sat down on top of the duvet. In only his wet swim shorts, he straightened his back, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and folded his hands in his lap. The boner had started to shrink but was still at half attention. He felt awkward, and wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself while he waited.

Ema briefly disappeared into the bathroom but quickly came back out again. He watched her while she dried her hair and smiled at him, then threw the towel on her parent’s bed and turned her back on him.

He just couldn’t help but stare. Ema had a slim figure, nice long hair and a cute ass. The small bikini bottom didn’t cover half of it. He felt nervous, excited, and the tingle between his legs never went away. Though he was no longer as hard as before he suddenly got worried. If his boner returned now, how could he get up in front of the girl?

He was also in disbelief. Just minutes earlier he'd been allowed to touch that. And to his delighted surprise, Ema had more in store for him.

She suddenly took off her bikini top, right in front of him, and Shotaro's mouth opened. Still with her back toward him, she tossed the bikini in a pile with the towel, then covered her naked breasts with her arm.

“Can you bring me that t-shirt?” she asked and turned her head. She pointed in the direction of a closed suitcase on the floor, with a white shirt on top of it.

Shotaro was stunned, and panicking, unable to move. The tingle was intensifying and his bulge growing. Oh my God, this can’t be real! he thought. No way, too good to be true. Holy shit!

When Ema kept waiting patiently for him, he quickly snapped out of it and stood up. He grabbed his towel from the bed to hold in front of his crotch. He wanted to help, he desperately wanted to be closer to the girl, but he needed to act fast if he didn't want her to see what he was hiding.

He went to get the t-shirt and took a few steps closer. He held it out and worked hard not to look at Ema’s body.

But she didn’t immediately take the shirt from his hand. “Thanks,” she said and smiled, without moving a muscle.

Shotaro looked up and their eyes met. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Shotaro was wide-eyed and put all his effort into not glancing at her boobs.

With her arm still across her naked breasts, Ema finally turned toward him and reached for the shirt.

At first, Shotaro didn’t let go of it. He was frozen in place. Damn she’s beautiful, he thought. Don’t get hard, don’t get hard!

But he already was hard, and he realized he had to turn around quickly so Ema wouldn't noticed. It was better to sit back down.

Just as he was about to let go of the shirt, Ema put down the arm over her chest and placed her hand on his shoulder. Shotaro did all he could to appear calm and collected, but in his head he was going crazy. Her naked body was right in front of him, her breasts almost touching his bare chest. All he had to do was look down.

“You don't want to look?” Ema asked, as if she could read his mind. “You can if you want to.”

That was all the approval he needed. Shotaro quickly lowered his gaze, saw the perky breasts and nipples, and opened his mouth wide.

“Wow,” he mumbled. It made Ema giggle.

“Come here,” she said and pulled at his shoulder. “Kiss me.”

Shotaro took a step closer and placed a hand on her hip. His dick was fully erect when they leaned in and kissed each other on the lips.

He was ecstatic. Ever since they entered the room he’d had a nervous and insecure expression on his face. Now, his eyes narrowed and he smiled wide as his lips touched hers, and they resumed the make-out session that had started in the pool.

Ema undressing in front of him had felt unreal, unexpected and a bit strange. But now he remembered that back in the hotspring, he'd been allowed to kiss and touch her as much as he wanted to. It was clear that she wanted him, and he wanted her more than anything. Perhaps it wasn't that odd that she'd get naked with him, he figured. Oh wow, I want to touch her so bad.

When the shock of what was happening settled, he did just that. He pulled her closer and let his hands glide up and down her narrow waist. Standing in the middle of the room, half naked and horny, they kissed and touched with passion.

Ema was relieved. Shotaro was beyond himself with excitement. His boner brushed against her hip, and pressed against her through the shorts.

When Ema held him tighter and began to explore his body, Shotaro placed his hand on her back and pressed her chest against his. He held her waist and let his fingers glide up and down her sides, from her hips to her back and down to her ass. Eventually, he dared to venture to her boobs and feel them.

Ema suddenly stopped kissing him and pushed him backwards, in the direction of the bed he had been sitting on. It took him by surprise, but he quickly understood the signal. Still facing her, they held each other's bodies and spun around.

Ema lay down on the bed, and Shotaro followed on his knees. He leaned in to kiss her lips, and lowered himself on top of her. Now that their intentions were clear, Shotaro no longer felt a need to hold back.

As the makeout session continued, Ema spread her legs and bent a knee, while touching Shotaro’s back and shoulders. He pressed his pelvis harder onto hers, the boner rubbing against her groin. He moved his ass slowly up and down, and an amazing sensation rushed through his hard dick. It intensified each time he rocked the shaft in his shorts forward.

Ema reached in between their legs to take off the rest of her bikini. She straightened her leg while Shotaro lifted his ass to give her more space. The bikini bottom slid over her ass, down her legs and to her feet, where she kicked it off.

“I don’t have a condom,” Shotaro whispered in between passionate kisses. He had a hand on Ema’s breast, massaging it gently.

“I'm on the pill,” she replied. Her words were muffled as their lips never stopped touching. Young, horny and taken by the situation, it was all the reassurance Shotaro needed.

The sex starts here…

Shotaro made a swift decision in his head. Yuta had warned him to be careful, and once repeated the words of the company to him: We don’t have a no-girlfriends policy, but that comes with great responsibility. Think before you risk your career.

Now, in the heat of the moment, Shotaro forgot all about those words.

He suddenly rolled off his new lover and reached down to take off his own swim shorts. They were still moist and he struggled to slide them down his legs. Ema looked on with a smile as he got them off, and glanced at his dick when he tossed the shorts onto her suitcase on the floor.

For a moment, they lay and stared at each other. Then Shotaro quickly leaned closer and climbed back on top.

His rock-hard boner rubbed against Ema’s stomach as they made love. Their movements were soft but passionate. They explored each other with their hands, while Ema spread her knees wider, and Shotaro pressed down harder. She started moaning softly while he held his breath, amazed by how incredibly lucky he felt.

Eventually, a new rush shot through Shotaro. His stiff dick had found the hole, and now it made its way inside it. Ema was wet and it happened naturally. It was a great sensation when he felt the change around the head. He quickly pulled out, a bit surprised by what had happened, only to slowly push his shaft back in again.

I'm having sex with her, he repeated in his head, his mind unable to fathom that this was happening less than two hours after they met. Though he’d had hopes, he hadn't even dared to dream that things would escalate this quickly. It felt incredible.

The shaft throbbed harder with each thrust, and Ema stopped moving to focus on the sensation of Shotaro's erection inside her. They caught each other’s eyes and she smiled up at him.

Shotaro’s heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively started to move his ass a little faster up and down. Ema closed her eyes and moaned softly. Shotaro opened his mouth and let out rapid bursts of air, in between occasional kisses.

The longer Shotaro kept going, the louder Ema panted and moaned. The sounds were such a turn-on.

Then suddenly, a different sound abruptly brought them out of their intimate bubble. There was a click at the door, when someone touched their key card on the lock.

“Shit!” Ema exclaimed.

Shotaro hastily pulled out of her and rolled on his side.

“Wait, I’m naked!” Ema said loudly. She quickly stood up, rushed to the door and put her hand on it. Then she turned to Shotaro and whispered: “Hide!”

Shotaro flew up like a frightened rabbit. His heart sank to the pit of his stomach. He looked bewildered. He was still hard and his dick swayed back and forth while he turned around to look for an exit.

“Under the bed,” Ema suggested and pointed.

Shotaro grabbed his shorts from the suitcase, ran over to the parent’s bed and lay down on the floor beside it. He quickly crawled sideways to get himself under it, and got his balls squeezed when they got stuck between him and the floor. A terrible pain shot out and through his body, from the place that had caused him so much pleasure just seconds ago.

There was a knock on the door. “Honey?” a female voice said.

“Just a sec mom!”

Ema, who looked panicked too, let go of the door and ran over to her suitcase. She grabbed a skirt and a top and quickly put them on. When she was adequately dressed, she looked at the bed Shotaro was hiding under to make sure he was out of sight.

Then she went to the door and opened it. “Sorry, I was changing,” she said with a calm voice and sweet smile.

Shotaro was on his stomach. His dick was no longer hard, but the strong pain still beamed from his balls.

From his position under the bed he could now see three pairs of feet. He drew the obvious conclusion that they belonged to Ema and her parents. Her father sat down right on top of him, and the mattress shook when he started taking off his shoes.

“How were the hotsprings?” he asked. He had a deep, dark voice.

“Fine,” Ema said and sat down on her bed. Shotaro could see her behind her father’s calves. She found her phone and pretended to play with it indifferently. “How was the massage?”

“Wonderful!” her mother said, before she walked into the bathroom. “I feel so relaxed. You really missed out on something.”

“Mom! It was a couple's massage, do you really think I'd join you guys for that? Besides, I told you, I don’t want some stranger touching me.”

How ironic, Shotaro thought.

“We’ve booked another session tomorrow. You could join us.”

“No thanks. I don't want to be part of your romance, that's disgusting.”

“Pfft, your dad doesn’t do romance,” the woman said and giggled.

“Hey!” the male voice said playfully, right above Shotaro’s head. The father had taken off his socks and his bare feet were close to Shotaro’s face. “I’m here, am I not?”

The woman came back out of the bathroom. “Yes you are honey,” she said with a smile and approached her husband. She leaned in to kiss him, then turned around to face her moody daughter. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, mom,” Ema said, suddenly in a much calmer tone. “Thanks though.”

“We’ve made dinner reservations in five minutes,” the father informed her.

Ema suddenly felt scared, and Shotaro noticed another change in her voice. “What, now?”

“Yeah. It’s past our usual dinner time. Put something nice on and lets go.”

“I might skip dinner,” Ema said.

“Nonsense!” her mother blurted out. “Are you not feeling well?”

Perhaps Ema should have lied, but she didn’t. “I feel great. I’m just not hungry.”

“You have to eat,” her father said. His feet suddenly moved, and Shotaro watched as he put on a fresh pair of socks.

“Okay, but I have to go to the bathroom first.” She was desperately searching for a solution to their problem.

“I'm starving,” her father said. “We’re late as it is. I'm sure there’s a bathroom in the restaurant.”

Ema finally gave up and caved in. She glanced in Shotaro’s direction before she got out of bed. In silence, contemplating their options, she found some more suitable clothes and locked herself in the bathroom. Maybe her parents would get impatient and leave without her.

The parents talked and shuffled around for a few more minutes, until Ema eventually came back out. She went over to the double bed and sat down on it, and began to put on her shoes. Despite the pickle he found himself in, he felt excited to be so close to her.

Ema’s parents were dressed and ready and made their way to the door. “Alright, let’s go,” the father said.

When she had tied her shoelaces, Ema stayed hunched down from the bed and discreetly stuck her hand in under it. She held out a folded piece of paper.

Shotaro took it, then watched as the girl he'd just been having sex with got up and walked out. He listened as the door closed behind the family, and the room suddenly fell silent.

Without getting out from under the bed, Shotaro unfolded the note he’d been given. It only had one thing written on it: “Call me”, followed by a phone number.

Despite the awkward and terrifying situation, Shotaro couldn't stop smiling.

#smut #nct #nct smut #nct dirty #kpop smut #smut writing #riize shotaro #osaki shotaro #shotaro smut #shotaro #riize #riize smut #shotaro riize #shotaro nct

8 notes · View notes

timetravelbypen · 1 year

Note

22 for Thasmin 😁

Hello hello, I haven't forgotten! Here you go!

22. "Weirdly, the best sleep I’ve ever had."

Yaz is exhausted. The Doctor’s had them on a three-day-long wild goose chase—or, wild dog chase, she supposes, although she still has no idea what the deal is with Karvanista—and as soon as they’d got back to the TARDIS, soaking wet and without any more answers than they’d started with, she’d sent them hurtling into the vortex and gone storming off without another word. Yaz had taken a very, very long shower and tried to go straight to bed, but in spite of the fact that her limbs feel like lead and she can feel the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes, her brain just won’t switch off.

The Doctor’s been snappish with her, sometimes, for a while. Since the Master. She’s used to it, even if it grates at her, even if she doesn’t understand it. But these last few days have been… different. The Doctor’s seemed… desperate, somehow.

She’s seemed scared.

The look in her eyes before she’d stormed off earlier was dark and hopeless in a way Yaz was all too familiar with, but had never seen on the Doctor’s face before. She can’t stop thinking about it, for all she wants to go to sleep and forget everything about the last three days. She doesn’t think she can get the Doctor to talk about it, but she does want to make sure she’s okay… or at the very least not making things worse for herself.

Sighing, she shoves herself out of bed and pads off to the kitchen to make two cups of tea. Mint tea for herself, and black tea with an obscene amount of sugar in it for the Doctor. But when she leaves the kitchen, she can’t find her anywhere. She’s not in the console room. She’s not in either of her favorite libraries. She’s not in the game room that’s been mostly empty since Ryan left, or in one of the other kitchens, or by the swimming pool. The ship’s got nearly endless corridors all winding around each other; she could spend hours looking and still not find her, At the very least, the tea’s going to get cold.

She sighs, wondering if she ought to just give up and check on her in the morning, when the ship sort of burbles around her. The Doctor’s been teaching her to pilot, slowly, and there’s a lot she doesn’t understand yet. But a soft, bubbly hum at the back of her mind, along with the ambient glow of the hallway brightening along one side, is clear enough: the ship knows where the Doctor is, and wants Yaz to follow.

So she does, circling back around until she’s in the console room again. Yaz frowns; she’d already checked in here, and it was empty, wasn’t it? But then the ship brightens the light around the hexagonal steps along the back wall, and Yaz finds a small, slumped over shape there.

“Doctor!” she cries, just about remembering to set the tea down instead of dropping it in her haste. She looks so small, so crumpled up—had she gotten hurt and not said? Had something happened?

She springs forward and reaches out, but unlike on Gallifrey, her hands are hidden somewhere underneath her, so instead Yaz gently brushes her hair away from her face, sneaking a hand between her cheek and her shoulder to try and find a pulse, because she looks so horribly still—

As soon as Yaz’ fingers brush her skin, the Doctor jolts, sitting up so fast she sways on the step.

“Careful!” Yaz says, catching her by the shoulders. “Doctor, what happened? Are you all right?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, m’fine, just, you know, bit of a nap—”

“The TARDIS were worried about you,” Yaz says, not saying that her heart is still racing in her chest, that the sight of her lying there fallen over like that had scared her too. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Weirdly, the best sleep I’ve ever had, if you can believe it,” the Doctor says, and she stretches, her joints making horrible popping sounds.

“Turns out, I can’t,” she says, rolling her eyes theatrically. “C’mon. It’s been an absolutely bonkers few days, you need some actual sleep in an actual bed. Where’s your room?”

“Mmmm, haven’t really got one,” the Doctor answers, ducking her head. Yaz realizes she hasn’t pulled away from the grip on her shoulders, and so, very gently, she dares to stroke her thumbs back and forth, ready to let go the instant it seems like the Doctor’s uncomfortable. Instead, she can feel the tension bleed out of her body with each touch. “Got the whole ship, really, haven’t I? Except for your room, Yaz, that’s yours. Wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“No,” Yaz agrees, smiling gently. She glances around and sees that either the TARDIS has once again provided or that they’ve forgotten to put away the stargazing mattress—it’s really become a bad habit at this point. “Still, there’s at least one better place than the stairs. Up you get.”

The Doctor groans pathetically, but lets Yaz pull her to her feet and walk her over to the mattress on the floor, lets her peel off her coat and boots before collapsing onto it face-first. Yaz chuckles; she’s still concerned that the Doctor’s so tired, still worried about that hopeless look on her face and the shattered way she’d just found her, but looking at her now, starfished across the mattress with her hair fanning out around her head like a burst of sunlight, she can’t help but smile. She’s adorable like this, really.

“See?” Yaz tells her, grabbing one of the blankets the Doctor hasn’t already pinned beneath her and pulling it up over her shoulders. “Better, right?”

“Mmm,” the Doctor hums.

Yaz nods, letting her fingers trail over the edge of the blanket. She’s not sure why she’s lingering. She should go, let her get some sleep, try and get some herself. But she can’t quite bring herself to move away just yet. When she finally does, though, the Doctor’s hand snakes free of the blanket to grab her own.

“Yaz…” she says quietly. “You could… that is, could you… just for a little while…”

“Do you want me to stay?” Yaz asks, just as quietly. She feels, quite suddenly, like she can’t breathe.

“Please,” she whispers, and she blinks open her eyes, and there it is again, that frightened, desperate look Yaz can’t bear. “I can’t… please.”

Yaz will think about it later. She’ll wonder why, and what it means, and whether it was a good idea. But right now, all she sees is that the Doctor is afraid, and that she can help.

“’Course I’ll stay,” she says. “Go on, budge up then.”

The Doctor shifts, and Yaz lifts the blanket and slides beneath it beside her. She’s about to ask if the Doctor’s got enough space when she moves in, burying her face in Yaz’ shoulder and winding an arm around her waist, holding her tight. Yaz lets out a surprised huff of laughter before leaning into the hug, the surprising warmth of the gesture.

“Never took you for a cuddler, Doctor,” she murmurs against the top of her head.

The Doctor says nothing, just holds her tighter.

“It’s all right,” Yaz whispers. “I’ve got you, okay?”

The Doctor nods against her collarbone, and slowly, as Yaz traces circles between her shoulder blades like her mum used to do for her after a nightmare, she relaxes. Her breathing evens out enough that Yaz thinks she’s dropped off again. Yaz closes her eyes, resting her cheek against the crown of the Doctor’s head, the soft Earl Grey scent of her and the steady four-beat rhythm of her heart unexpectedly soothing in her arms.

“Sweet dreams, Doctor,” she whispers with a yawn. Perhaps, just for tonight, she can help give her that.

#doctor who #fanfic what i wrote #thasmin #thirteenth doctor #yasmin khan #ask game #I'm really not good at making these short whoops...

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 11 months

Text

From the Ashes Pt. 21

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, MC POV, darkin powers, took the idea of darkin from Jay Kristoff's Nevernight Trilogy, it's a super good series that has been my favorite for years

Words: 3033

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

As Weles had taught you, you didn’t take your eyes off of your opponent. When you first met him back in Volon Therys, there was plenty of fear in you. Having spent nearly a year in the Red Temple you didn’t fear this darkin. You were angry.

“How shameful for one of your kind to dare attack Azor Ahai reborn.” Melisandre reprimands him although it slid easily off of the darkin. “Have you no dignity, darkling?”

“Aye I have dignity. Dignity regarding my title as the best assassin in all of the world.” Even though he addresses Melisandre, that one single eye of his continues to stare you down. Lifting up a black blade, you realized it wasn’t a sword at all; rather a large dagger. “That little one poses a threat to it.”

Red brows furrow and for once Melisandre’s voice held no alluring sweetness. “She is your champion. Mind your tongue.” She makes a move to step forward, perhaps show him her own skills with shadows, but a gentle hand holds her still.

When Alizah speaks, a chill creeps up through everyone. Including yourself. Alizah had such a strange power in her voice. The sparkling night sky were no longer shining. Instead they became a dark void of prophecy. “Inniros Orelelion.”

Finally the darkin tears his eye away from you to glare at Alizah.

Hands folded politely in front of her, Alizah smiles. “You don’t have to do this. All of this pain and death can end here. There is still light inside of you. Please don’t get rid of it. (y/n) can help you reach true glory if you give her a chance.”

Words couldn’t reach Inniros though. “I’ve never failed and refuse to do so now.”

While he was distracted, you took the opportunity to adjust the hilt in your hand and strike. Barely enough time to react, a slice of red blooms on Inniros’ cheek. The slice was enough to render his mask useless as it hangs by a thread before completely falling off his face. A long narrow face like that of a ghost greeted you. His shadows still held Jaime hostage as he reacted to each swing of your sword. Slithering shadows tried to hold you down as well, but you weren’t falling for that again. Light on your feet, you tried not to stay in one place for too long. You knew this would exhaust you if you kept up with it for too long, but it was the only thing that guaranteed that you wouldn’t succumb to his shadowbinding. Weles had spent hours training you on how to move like a feather in the breeze. He was watching now and you would not fail him. The remaining Fiery Hands watched quietly. They knew the darkin was your’s. This was the real test. No one dared to interrupt you.

The good thing about Jaime being held down was that the darkin couldn’t slip into the shadows. He couldn’t do both. Good.

A jab nearing your face as you flip backwards to get away, never releasing Lightbringer from your grasp. You landed gracefully on the balls of your feet but didn’t have enough time to catch your breath as Inniros was at your heels. He was fast.

Valyrian steel slid along his obsidian dagger, they hissed in unison. “Who sent you?”

He didn’t answer as he was able to push you back to the ground. You hopped back up and sliced at him, repeating your question. “Who sent you to kill me?”

Your hands trembled much to your dismay. The adrenaline you were experiencing was overwhelming. Either that or something was waking up inside of you. Unfurling its wings and opening reptilian eyes. The singing of blades was such a loud song, rousing awake something so primal that you couldn’t explain what you were feeling. You remember your days in King’s Landing and the visits you had in your dreams with the Warrior. You felt her power and energy. It was linked to the creature waking up inside of you.

Translating to your sword, you began to push. The sound of cracking made Inniros glance at his blade. Nothing was a match against pure Valyrian steel. Realizing he was in danger, Inniros bounces back which allowed you to advance forward. Even you could see the large crack in the obsidian that began to splinter through the rest of his dagger. The only weapon he would have left would be his shadows. Both of you knew that as you glare eachother down. He could release Jaime and flee into his shadow, or continue to fight you and gamble his life.

There was clear frustration on his face as he failed to pin you down by your own shadow. Hopping around was making you tired and you worried you wouldn’t be able to keep up until the fight was over. You had never fought so fiercely before. Inniros took the chance and used the last leg of his dagger. Swatting it away like a pesky fly, it shattered. Shards nick at his hands and fall to the ground. If this was any other sparring fight, he would concede defeat. He knew it was over. He had no other way to fight besides his shadows which had failed to capture you.

That’s when Jaime shouted “What the hell?!!”

Before your eyes you watched the darkin’s body be enveloped by darkness, disappearing and pulling Jaime with him.

You ran. “Oh no you don’t! You’re not getting away this time!!” You didn’t know what you were going to do to stop him, but you knew that you would not let him take your brother.

Inniros’ shadow was receding, but slowly. Clenching your jaw, you viciously stab at the shadow. Inniros gasps and is spat back out, Jaime is released and falls forward.

You should have finished him off right then and there. But you were too distracted by the flames that were suddenly engulfing your sword. Even Inniros didn’t try to escape. He stared intently at almost in pure horror. Or perhaps it was awe. Ears numb to the people shouting around you, all you were focused on was Lightbringer on fire. Holding it up, the flames refused to die. The heat from it didn’t bother you; in fact it warmed you to your core. Such a familiar sensation, like an old friend.

Sitting on the ground stunned, Inniros doesn’t move as the Fiery Hand crowds around him.

Melisandre makes her way over to him. Triumph in her smile. “Did I not tell you, darkling? Whether you like it or not, she is Azor Ahai; your champion. Darkin live to serve. Your powers are nothing, you would be nothing if not for her.”

“Kill him.” Iyan growls. “He is a danger and needs to be executed.”

On wobbly legs, Jaime stands. “I agree. He killed Feichin. Killed many other good men as if. . . as if they were nothing.”

“Let one of us kill him before he escapes again, ñuha kosh” A Fiery Hand spoke, getting to one knee in front of you. “Do not waste Lightbringer on the likes of him.”

Weles looks to you, not offering any help. “Issa aōha iderennon.”

It’s your choice.

He should be killed. He was indeed a great risk if you kept him alive. Looking at the darkin now, Inniros appeared exhausted and drained. Now you could see his other eye. Or what should have been his other eye. Instead there’s just an empty eye socket. There was now humanity you saw within Inniros. Whatever led him down this path hadn’t been his first choice. In that frozen blue eye of his, you saw a scared little boy before a terrible master that turned him into a monster.

“Chain him and bring him back to the temple.”

Not a very popular decision. Vidarr straightened his back. “I don’t want to disagree with your choice, ñuha kosh, but you can’t let him live.”

“He will kill you the moment you turn your back.” Dritan agreed. He grabbed Inniros’ red hair and pulled his head back, moon blade pressed against Inniros’ throat. “I can do it, ñuha kosh. Please give me the honor.”

It didn’t feel right though. You knew Weles was awaiting your words. Even if you had defeated him, did you have it in you to kill this man? To take a life was not an easy thing. Even though you were still angry that the darkin dared to harm your brother, you couldn’t muster up enough hate to swing your fiery sword.

You swallowed and with that the flames that had been running up and down your sword subsided. The fire was gone in you. “Put your blade down, Dritan.”

“But-”

A silencing glare from Weles has Dritan lowering his head and releasing Inniros.

“Clearly he was sent by someone to kill me and take my brother. It won’t end with his death. Whoever it is will keep trying to kill me. We need to get down to the truth.” Putting Lightbringer back into its sheath, you look over your shoulder at the mess behind you. Besides Feichin there were three dead Fiery Hands. You couldn’t bare to look at Feichin’s lifeless body. It would make you remember all the laughter he had brought into your life. “I will get down to the truth. After that. . .” After that could you possibly entertain the idea of executing him? If you were like your father, you could easily do it without wasting sleep. Tywin brought the law down on any tyrant that threatened him.

You felt just as drained as Inniros. Jaime notices and goes to your side. He pats your head and wipes off blood that was on your brow. “You’re injured.”

Since the adrenaline was wearing off, you were starting to feel the pain and soreness of your body. You hadn’t realized that Inniros had been able to get to you. Sweat makes the cut on your brow sting and produces more blood. The hand you had hurt while fighting Weles ached as you stretched your fingers. There was also a sickening pain that was starting to arise in your side.

Taking control of the situation, Jaime nods and turns to his comrades. “Fetch a wagon so we can bring back the dead and give them a proper burial. Someone go to the blacksmith and have him procure chains for the darkin. (y/n), you might want to keep your sword out and ready if he decides to make a run for it.”

Yophiel took it upon him to hold down the darkin as he was the largest of the Fiery Hand. You did as Jaime said and just hovered near Inniros with Lightbringer in your aching hand.

The walk back to the Red Temple was near impossible for you had it not been for Jaime who put you on his back and carried you the rest of the way. People in the streets stare with curiosity at your small group. More particularly they wanted to know why there was someone in chains and a bag over their head. Vidarr sat in the back of the wagon which held the slain. Iyan walked beside the wagon, singing the funeral rights for his brothers. His voice was beautiful and so sad that you found yourself crying on Jaime’s back. The tears stained his robes as you clung to him. Jaime pretended not to notice that you were crying, giving you that bit of privacy.

Immediately when you crossed the bridge, there were many of the red priests and priestesses awaiting your return. The rest of the Fiery Hand were there as well, hearing the grieving hymn from Iyan. They knelt down in respect as your party passed.

In no time you were taken off of Jaime’s back and treated for your wounds. An old friend, milk of the poppy, was offered to you and before you could even blink you were out cold.

There was no rest in your slumber. Fitful and full of dark shadows that you were able to slice away with a flaming Lightbringer. Only. . . It was the Warrior.

She smiles at you. “Do you know who I am now?”

You couldn’t speak as she held her hand out to you.

“It’s okay. You’re ready now.” for the first time she was gentle with you. “Say my name. You know it.”

Your hand disappears into the Warrior’s. “Your name. . .” Flicking your eyes up at her you knew. Her own green pools reflected back. “(y/n).”

She smiles and wraps her arms around you in a hug. Overhead there is a shriek and the flap of wings. Whispering into your ear, you could feel her smile. “She is on the way. She awaits for you.”

“Who?”

“(y/n)?”

A voice from the outside stirs you from your foggy sleep. A struggle to open your eyes to find Jaime sitting right next to you. He grins and you can’t help but smile.

“Jaime. . .” voice hoarse, you run your tongue over your dry lips.

“How are you feeling?” His thumb runs over the bandage on your head, knowing that below there were stitches. He could feel the bumps of the thread that was used. More than likely you couldn’t feel a thing. The red priests had medicated you heavily, worried that you would be in too much pain.

You felt nothing except for the stuffing in your head. “Okay. How long have I been out for?”

“Not long. A day perhaps.” From your bedside table, Jaime retrieves a cup of water. “I told them you didn’t need that much milk of the poppy.”

Grateful for the gesture, your brother helps you sit up as you take small sips. “Inniros?”

“Surprisingly he’s still in his cell. Hasn’t said a word but he’s still there. Suppose that’s all that matters. Melisandre has taken it upon herself to be guard over him. Even the red priestesses want his head on a spike. And word has spread through the whole temple about Lightbringer bursting into flames. If there were any skepticals left, they’re all gone now. The High Priest has blessed your sword and praised the blacksmith for such a fine job. He has been rewarded greatly.”

His mood dampens when in a quieter tone he tells you about the Fiery Hands that had died. As was ritual, a funeral pyre was made for them and they were burned. They died in the line of duty and were given the utmost respect. Regret was quick to fill you that you couldn’t attend the ceremony. They died protecting you. Everyone understood though. A lot had happened to you that day.

Something stirs in the corner of your room, on the other side of your bed. You turn and Rhiannon is slumped in a chair rubbing at her eyes. She grumbles something at Jaime which neither of you could decipher. There’s relief when she fully wakes. “My lady.”

“Rhiannon.” you smile. “Have you been here this entire time?”

She nods and gets up. “Yes. Jaime was supposed to have woken me up.”

“You stayed up with her all night. I figured you could use the rest.” He shrugged.

Giving Jaime a stink face, Rhiannon pushes him out of the way to peel back your blanket. “I need to check the wound on your side, my lady. Something Jaime should have done when you woke.” Her touch is like a feather as they gingerly tug at your bandages.

There’s a dull soreness in your side as she examines your wound. Her furrowed brow told you all you needed to know of the extent of it. More than likely it would leave a scar.

That was fine by you. Each scar would be a medal for you. You survived a fight with a darkin. Not many could say that.

Instructing Jaime to bring her a basket filled with equipment, Rhiannon begins to redress your wound. She hums quietly until you ask her “Where is Lightbringer?”

Knowing exactly where it was, he ventures over to where your dresser was and opens the doors. Latched to the other side of one door was Lightbringer. “The High Priest wanted to put it somewhere safely. He thinks if other people knew of its power-”

“Not its power.” Rhiannon corrected him. “The sword holds no power. It all comes from (y/n).”

That’s right. Once you felt the fire inside of you dwindle, the fire from the sword was extinguished. When your wounds healed you would have to try again.

“Regardless, its made from Valyrian steel. There are only a handful of Valyrian swords out there in the world. And you possess one of them.”

Your body prickles to life when Rhiannon applies a cleansing wash on your side. Squeezing your eyes closed and grimacing, you barely manage to keep in a hiss. Your brother is by your side in an instant, holding your clenched hand. Relaxing your fingers, you take a deep breath; letting the sting subside.

Gazing up at him, you smile at Jaime. He returns it and kisses your knuckles. You would allow yourself to relish in this moment.

“My lady.”

A new voice in your room, the three of you turn. Vidarr and Sirvart stand in your doorway. Each bows when they have caught your attention.

“Our apologies.” Vidarr says. “But we have been informed to let you know that once you are able to stand, your presence is requested in the dungeons. The darkin insists he will not talk to anyone except for Azor Ahai.”

It was time.

You nod and Rhiannon finishes putting a new bandage on you. Jaime helps you up to your feet. “Send for Innana. I will need help getting dressed.”

Worry is laced in Vidarr’s voice. “Are you sure you’re well enough?”

His worry makes Sirvart laugh. “We have no need to worry about her any longer. It’s clear she can take care of herself.”

Beaming at Sirvart you realize she spoke the truth. And now everyone knew it too. You weren’t that bumbling little girl. You were a warrior.

A champion.

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