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targaryen-dynasty · 6 months

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STRESS RELIEF.

Daemon Targaryen x female!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT-MINORS DNI; implied canon typical incest/ targcest (no named relationship other than husband & wife but reader speaks high valyrian), oral (m receiving), balls sucking, balls worship, cock slapping, breeding kink, fem reader (no mentions of appearance)

WORDS: 2.9 K

NOTES: I KNOW I said you won't get anything from me for the next two weeks, but this is an old story I love and edited, and I'm always in the mood to suck his balls. Ty Lana @zaldritzosrose 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

The door to your chambers bursting open with a thud, the thick wood slamming against the old masonry of Maegor’s Holdfast, is what forcefully pulls you out of your slumber.

As your eyes shoot open, you need a few seconds to adjust to the dim light of your chambers, the flame of the fireplace long extinguished and indicating it’s been a while since you found sleep.

Every sense of tiredness that has lingered in your bones vanishes suddenly at the noisy intrusion, more so as you spot the armor-clad silhouette of your husband standing at the threshold of your marital quarters.

He appears to be even more bulky and bull-like with the natural broadness of his shoulders accentuated by the heavy armor and the golden cloak, and just that sight alone has an aching desire filling your veins.

It’s the closer look you take that makes you aware of his labored breathing, chest rising and falling with heaving breaths, almost seeming as though he’s in great stress.

Whenever Daemon barges into your chambers at this hour, still wearing his armor, you know he needs to be consoled and pampered.

“Husband?” Your soft voice finally pierces through the silence, still thick with sleep from being awoken so abruptly.

A few, determined strides is all it takes him to enter the room, closing the door behind him as loudly as he’s opened it before. Although you know something is plaquing his mind, and that he’s not usually as harsh towards you as this, you still flinch at the thud.

Sitting up straight with the bedcovers bunched in front of your breasts, you have a puzzled look on your face. One of the few things Daemon has established fairly early into your marriage was the strict prohibition of you wearing any kind of smallclothes or nightgowns to bed, as he wants you to lie just as bare next to him as he always does.

He always states that there are quite a few practical reasons for it, with easier and quicker access to your cunt being the main one of them. Albeit you know for certain that he just loves to feel your skin on his when he falls asleep, solely embraced by the warmth and softness of your body snuggled up against his.

Clashing of metal accompanies his heavy footsteps as he approaches you, stern gaze fixed on your small frame.

The closer he gets, the more you are able to make out his chiseled features with long strands of his silver-blonde hair framing them perfectly. Even in the almost non-existent light of your chambers you notice the dark blown eyes, the adored lilac almost fully eclipsed by pitch black.

“Va aōha ybon,” he rasps, voice deep and commanding, and leaving no space for any kind of objection. On your knees.

You comply swiftly, the bedcovers thrown aside to reveal your naked form. A somewhat feral growl ripples through your husband’s chest at the sight, the curves and dips of your body enhanced by the light the moon casts through the windows.

The stone floor feels cold and hard as you sink to your knees, causing you to shift your weight from one knee to the other and back, trying to mend the discomfort at least slightly.

It usually requires your help to strip him off his heavy armor, but much to your surprise, Daemon manages to shred himself out of the majority of it all by himself, driven by sheer lust and hunger for you.

Where his silver hair is usually well combed and neat, the loose tresses now cascade down his shoulders and back visibly tousled and dirty.

Your hands lie folded in your lap, thumbs brushing over each other in a way to keep yourself calm. You have been married to Daemon for two summers, but know his silence never means anything good. It is threatening, and more often than not getting you into trouble, because he always has something to say.

As he stands in front of you in his full glory, only clad in a pair of dark breeches and a loose tunic, you hesitantly reach to place a hand on his sturdy thigh while his hand cups your cheek in return. Finding yourself leaning into the touch, you’re quickly repulsed as you catch a whiff of what smells like sweat, dirt and… iron.

“What have you done today?“ you ask innocently, though you aren’t sure if you want to hear his reply – that means if you even get one.

While the pad of his thumb brushes over the curve of your lips, his other hand slowly unlaces the front of his breeches, easing the confines of his half-hard member, and causing a wave of arousal to seep out of your cunt, anticipation making it clench around nothing.

“Oh, we have restored law and order,“ he purrs, the cocky smirk on his lips indicating that he’s more than satisfied with the outcome of it all. “The Kingsguard cleaned the streets from the city‘s scum.“

Listening intently, you just nod in acknowledgement, not at all surprised by your husband‘s actions. “And does the king know you did that?“

“I do not care if the king knows or not,“ he spits, impatiently tugging the front of his breeches down just enough to free his cock and stones. “He is blind, guided by the incompetent leech that claims to be his hand.“

A musky scent hits your nose when you catch sight of his thick cock. His musky scent, mixed with the salty smell of sweat. It has you licking your lips like a greedy whore, and if anything, you love it. It’s a sharp reminder that you have married a hardworking and ambitious man, and not a boy.

Your hand instinctively curls around his member, your index finger and thumb barely touching. His girth has always been something that impresses you. He’s considerable, leaving you wondering at times how it even fits into your mouth and cunt.

You slowly tug him to full hardness, stroking him the way you know he likes, even though your pace is a bit slower than usual. You listen to him rant about his brother, and the insolence of his hand, Otto Hightower, merely humming whenever your husband expects you to.

Once his cock stands to full attention, throbbing in your hand, you release it and instead fondle his stones, heavy and hot in your hand. The fleshy pouch they sit in is a bit darker than the rest of his pale skin and visibly sagged, but doesn’t hang too low.

Your actions earn a disapproving tsk from Daemon, despite the visible twitching of his cock at the new stimulation, and he wastes no time in fisting a good bit of your hair to shove your face towards his crotch. The scent is more prominent the closer you get, but not at all repulsing. Instead, it arouses you even more.

You’re not sure if it’s Daemon‘s usual lack of patience or his abnormal obsession with the king and his entourage that makes him greedy and needy for your touch, but you decide to not give in to him so easily.

Gently squeezing and fondling the sack of his stones, your tongue licks a flat stripe from the base of his member up to the bulbous tip of it. A salty taste lingers on your tongue, the few beads of his arousal quickly gathered and swallowed by you. You hum appreciatively at the taste, seemingly pleased to witness the affect your touch and presence has on your husband‘s body.

A sharp tug on your hair catches your attention and makes you yelp, your wide eyes finding your husband‘s demanding ones. “Quit playing games,“ he growls. A warning. But he should know by now that you are not one of his hounds, and what works with them doesn’t necessarily intimidate you.

Your tongue swirls around the tip of his cock, kitten-licking it until his heavy pants are replaced by annoyed huffs and grunts. Daemon doesn’t like you teasing him – not when he craves relief.

You keep your eyes neatly trained on him, studying his changing expressions to know whenever you’re playing with fire, and when it is best to follow his commands. Switching the positions of your mouth and hand, warmth brushes your face before the familiar musk seeps into your head.

Closing your eyes as all your senses are clouded by him, you latch on Daemon’s sac of stones, nuzzling your nose into the dark, coarse hair to take one of them in your mouth. Low purrs ripple from your throat, sending vibrations through his body.

You haven’t noticed, but your thighs clench and unclench repeatedly with each suck of your mouth, trying to soothe the aching settling at the apex of your legs. However, it doesn’t grant you the friction you crave.

“My, my, now look at that,“ Daemon coos. “Sucking my stones like a common whore. So desperate to have your mouth filled by me, hm?“

The condescending tone of his voice sends shivers up your spine, and you keen at the degrading nature of his words, moaning around his slightly slacked flesh.

Daemon is unable to tear his dark blown eyes from your full mouth struggling to take both of his stones. You’re trying so hard, but your mouth isn’t slack enough, causing you to nearly choke yourself trying to please him.

Droplets of your saliva dribble from the corners of your mouth down your chin, gathering in your jugular notch, and really making you look like you belong to the Street of Silk; a common whore desperate for her mouth to be stuffed by something, and not caring if it was filled by his stones or cock.

While you are messily suckling the sack of his stones, you tease a few licks up his length, tracing the prominent vein on the underside of it with the tip of your tongue.

You relish in the way he twitches and squirms under your touch, the deep grunts only spurring you on even more. But you also are soaked for him, core clenching and aching, begging to be used.

Daemon has started to tug himself off at the sight of your lips around his flesh, big hand the perfect size for his considerable length, while his other tightly fists into your hair to keep you where he wants you.

You hollow your cheeks around him, sucking with the tip of your tongue dragging over the sensitive skin. The familiar taste of manhood lingers on your tongue, and your jaw goes slack, finally managing to engulf his whole sac with your mouth. But when you try to pull away for a breath, Daemon only snorts and pulls you right back to his stones.

He harshly tugs on your hair, tilting your head back so you are forced to look at him when he slaps his hard cock against your face. Your saliva adds a sheen to his flushed skin, making him glisten in the dim light, and catches your attention, your eyes trailing over the length of his cock – you want nothing more than to feel those veins on your tongue.

As his cock repeatedly makes contact with your swollen lips and cheeks, the indecency of it all sends heat straight through your body, for it’s the first time he has ever done something like that.

Daemon bows forward, looming over your frame but coming close enough for you to feel his breath fanning over your face. Goosebumps prickle on your skin, and his intense lilac eyes send desire straight to your jumbled mind.

“What a wanton harlot you are,” his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “Whores of the Silk Street do such things.”

While his degrading words go straight to your head, making you eager for more, you still cower beneath his dominating presence. “Yn ao hae ziry,” you reply, cocking your head sideways in an innocent way. But you like it.

It seems that your feigned innocence doesn’t convince him, because you suddenly feel something warm and wet dripping down your cheeks; his saliva. He has spat on your cheek, spreading it over your heated skin with a satisfied smirk ghosting over his features. Daemon rarely enjoys having you talk back at him, to tease him, and right now clearly isn’t one of those moments.

At the realization of what he’s just done, you feel your voice tighten in your throat, your lips pressing into a thin line as embarrassment floods your veins.

“Gaoman, yn…,” he muses, bending back and tracing the tip of his length along the slit of your pouty lips. “...nyke hae ziry tolī skori gaomā daor ȳdragon rȳ mirre.” With these words leaving his lips, his cock hits your cheek once again, almost as if he’s making fun of you. I do, but I like it more when you do not speak at all.

The grip on your hair loosens only for him to cup your cheek, fingertips digging sharply into the flushed skin of your cheeks. His other hand repeatedly taps the tip of his cock against your swollen lips in a demanding manner, begging for entrance.

“Open your mouth, or else I am opening it for you.”

You wet your lips, just the mere thought of having him down your throat causes a sense of soreness to linger in the back of it, and Daemon seems to notice your apprehension.

“I see your mouth begging for my cock, you filthy slut. Don’t act like an insufficient brat for you have done this plenty of times before.” He is right, but that doesn’t mean you’ll ever get used to his sheer size. Your thoughts, however, are cut short because Daemon isn’t Daemon, if he doesn’t take matters into his own hands.

The tip of his cock prods against your lips, and with the grip on your face tightening, you are all but forced to part them for him. There’s only little to no time to adjust to his size granted to you, because he sheaths himself inside of you in one, swift thrust.

A few seconds pass in which neither of you moves. Your nose is nuzzled against his pubic bone, the tip of it brushing the wispy trail of his hair, and you try to stifle the urge to gag and choke around him, your hands getting ahead with clutching his muscular thighs to keep yourself grounded.

Every muscle of his body twitches with pleasure as he grows accustomed to the warmth and tightness of you, his head tipping back to release a bawdy groan.

And then his hips start to buck into your mouth, allowing a wave of fresh air to fill your lungs when he almost completely pulls out; only the tip remaining embraced between your lips. A firm hand locks behind your head to stop you from pulling back.

Daemon’s hips thrust into your mouth with reckless abandon like he belonged into it, the bulbous tip hitting the back of your throat but never giving you anything you can’t handle. He knows you can take it, and that you like it.

The lewd noises of his soaked cock easing in and out of your warm mouth fill the room, spurring him on even more. At this point, you are soaking wet for him, droplets of your arousal leaking onto the stone floor beneath your legs.

Your cheeks hollow around him as you choke and sputter around his length, spit dribbling down your chin and bosom. His stones tighten with his cock throbbing on your tongue, ready to spend himself down your throat at any given moment, your previous teasing clearly coming in handy.

There are tears brimming in your eyes, unhelpful when all you want is to look up at him, watch how he scrunches his brow and puckers his lips as he gazes at you in rapture.

“That’s it,” Daemon groans, the pace of his hips faltering as he chases his release. “Take it all.” And that is when you felt it.

His hot seed spills down your throat, coating your tongue. You gag slightly when his hips start to stutter, cock twitching and pulsing with the force of his peak. Droplets of his seed spill from the corners of your mouth, mixing with your saliva and dribbling down your chin while you struggle to swallow the rest.

Nonsense spews out of his mouth as his groans grow more wanton, no doubt losing awareness of his volume. You are destined to be the main topic of the court's whispers in the morrow, just like your mother and father have been before you.

His fingers comb through your hair slowly, stroking your head as if he’s thanking you for a job well done, while he rides out his peak with languid thrusts of his hips.

When he finally stops to regain his composure, chest rising and falling with each heavy breath he takes, he allows you to pull back from him, a string of your saliva connecting your swollen lips with the bulbous head of his cock, only breaking as you lick your lips to gather the remnants of his spent.

“Ñuha sȳz riña,” he rasps, pulling you up on your feet to capture your lips in a heated kiss. The taste of him on your tongue spreads over his tongue and causes him to groan. My good girl.

Like a man possessed, he flips you around and easily throws you onto your marital bed. When you land on your stomach with him following closely behind, mounting you and straddling your arse, you squeal and chuckle, ecstatic that it’s finally your turn.

“Tonight is the night I shall put a child into you. I want to see your body swell with my seed.”

Daemon Taglist: @barbiedragon @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

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vbecker10 · 3 months

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The Night Nurse (Part 5)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 6 (in progress)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (Y/N)

Summary: You are the newly appointed night nurse for SHIELD and you couldn't be less excited about it. You have been given the side task of finding out who is stealing supplies from the infirmary. Soon after you start, you learn Loki is the one who has been slipping in at night to patch up his wounds and you confront him about why he can't heal as quickly as Thor. He reveals a dangerous secret he is keeping from the team and you worry increasingly for his safety as the two of you become closer over the next few weeks.

Warning: You asked for angst so I shall give you angst lol but also... some mentions of blood, minor injuries needing stitches, arguing between you and Loki, you being super awkward and Loki being oblivious, some swearing, a pretty major injury towards the end but no one dies... a romantic ending was requested so of course there will be fluff and cuteness and whatnot

A/N: For those of you who skipped Part 4 cause it was mostly just smutty, the first section in italics is end of Part 4 so you didn't miss any plot. If you read Part 4, you can start at the regular font section so you don't reread stuff you already read.

Also, I'm sorry this one is kind of short but when you see where I left it, you'll know why... it's cause I'm horrible lol. Hope you all like this! 💚💚

Loki's lip pause and he pulls away in confusion, his eyes trying to connect with yours as your fingers trace the tape on his back absent-mindedly.

"Can you die even though you're a god?" you ask him, looking at the bandage on his cheek as he shifts to be directly above you.

"Yes," he answers quietly.

You nod and he tilts your chin so you are looking him in the eyes.

"What happened, love?" he asks. "Where did your beautiful mind just go?"

You are quiet for a moment and Loki lets you search for the words on your own instead of slipping into your thoughts. "I'm afraid," you tell him in a whisper.

"Of what?" he asks, concern spreading through him as your clothes and his reappear on your bodies in a green flicker.

"Of losing you," you admit as he sits up. "I can feel myself falling for you more each day and the more deeply I care for you, the more terrified I am that something will happen to you. We still don't know why your magic is failing or how to fix it."

"Y/N, I promise you will not lose me, I have only just found you and I do not intend for this to end. We will find a way to mend my magic and I will heal as I used to," he says as he pulls you into a hug. He presses a kiss to your lips in an effort to try and reassure you.

You put your arms around him tightly but don't feel any comfort in his words. "You can't promise me that," you say as you rest your cheek against his chest. "You're going to keep training with Thor and keep going on missions and... and you're going to keep getting hurt." You touch his bandaged cheek lightly as you lean away from him. "Your magic is healing you slower and less completely each time you are injured. The last stitches I gave you even left a small scar."

"Y/N..." he says with a worried expression.

"I've seen horrific injuries on this job, bullet wounds, stabbings, burns... I've lost people I've tried desperately to save for hours..." you shake your head. "I can only continue to work here because I've learned to distance myself from my patients. I'm not friends with any of the SHIELD agents or the Avengers on purpose, Loki," you tell him.

"I don't know if I can wait here terrified that you're going to come back to me hurt... or that you won't come back," you feel the same tightness in your chest that you did when you waited for him to arrive tonight.

He kisses your forehead softly and you look up at him, tears threatening to fall. "I will speak to Thor tomorrow," he assures you. "I will tell him the truth about my magic failing and my healing abilities. I have no doubt he will allow me to take time away from the team so I can understand what is wrong with my magic."

"You promise?" you ask, desperate for him to finally be out of harms way while he searches for an answer.

"I promise," he nods and kisses your lips softly. "I cannot bear being the cause of your worries. I will do this for you because I know you need me to."

You hug him tighter and rest your head on his chest. "Thank you, Loki," you mumble against him, feeling your fears subside.

He runs his fingers through your hair and adds, "There is one thing you could do to show me how thankful you are."

You sit up, lifting your head to look at him and he chuckles, "Darling, you have such a vivid imagination." Your cheeks heat as you blush, knowing Loki read the thought that instantly appeared in your mind. You hide your face against his chest again.

"As much as I love your suggestion," he says and you look up at him slowly, waiting for him to continue. "I had a different idea in mind. Go on a date with me." His smirk fades into a soft smile and his fingers run down your cheek, "Please. I wish to see you outside of this horrid infirmary."

Loki doesn't give you a moment to answer before he says, "I know you have become accustomed to sleeping during the day and I am more than willing to stay awake all night to be with you. I have found several restaurants in the area that are open quite late and some of the museums have night hours as well. Unless you would prefer to see a movie or walk through one of the parks, the gardens are well lit this time of year."

You can't help but giggle at how much he knows about places to visit at night, "This doesn't seem like a spur of the moment ask. How long have you been planning this?"

"To ask you out on a date?" he asks to clarify.

"Yeah," you nod, knowing him talking to his brother was not originally part of his plan.

"About a week," he admits.

"A week? What took you so long?" you wonder.

He shrugs, "I could see in your thoughts that your feelings for me were growing as mine have been for you but... I wanted to wait until you were comfortable enough with how you felt to tell me yourself. I know you hate that I can read your mind without your knowledge so I assumed if I asked you out based solely on your hidden thoughts, you would have felt like your privacy was being invaded."

"That's probably true, actually," you agree with him then smile. "In that case, thank you for waiting. That was really sweet."

"I have my moments," he laughs.

"So I guess since you've been in my mind a bunch, you know I really only like you a little bit right?" you joke nervously, unsure if Loki knows the depth of your feelings for him.

He shakes his head, "Oh, I think you like me more than a little bit."

"Nope, just a teeny tiny bit," you laugh but you can see in his eyes he knows the truth.

"You love me," he smiles, his arm holding you closer to his body. Your heart beats faster when you hear those words out loud. "Deny me all you want, princess, but I don't need read your mind to know what is in your heart."

You smile and shrug, trying to push down the little voice inside of you that agrees with Loki. You have fallen so hard for him so much quicker than you imagined possible. "I'm not sure what you are talking about," you force out your response but there is no fooling the prince.

His hand moves to the back of your neck and he pulls you closer. "Tell me you love me," his tone is much less playful than it had been as his lips inch closer to yours.

Before you can stop yourself you say, "I will tell you that tomorrow... after our first date."

He smirks, "I will accept those terms, beautiful."

"Good," you giggle. "But now you need to go," you pull yourself free from him and get up, afraid if he stays one minute longer you will tell him what he wants to hear. "I have a ton of work to do and you have to sleep, it's so late."

Loki gets up from the exam table and follows you to the door of the infirmary. He puts his arm around your waist and pulls you flush to his chest, hooking his finger under your chin so you are looking up at him. "I will see you tomorrow for our date," he leans down and kisses your lips much too quickly and when he pulls away he smirks. He lets you go and vanishes without another word.

The sound of your phone ringing pulls you from your sleep and you reach for it, trying not to open your eyes. "Yea?" you answer the call annoyed and still mostly sleep.

"Y/N?" the voice asks, "It's Annmarie."

"Annmarie, sorry," you sit up, recognizing the voice of your coworker immediately. "I was sleeping," you check the clock on your nightstand.

"I know you've only been off shift for a few hours and your not scheduled tonight," your stomach knots knowing this is anything but a social call. "But there's an emergency at the Tower. Dr. Palmer needs everyone to come in," she explains and you throw off your sheets, getting out of bed quickly. You can hear the faint sound of alarms blaring in the background.

Holding the phone to your ear with your shoulder, you grab a clean pair of scrubs, fully awake now. "What happened?" you ask trying to understand what type of emergency would have them calling in all of the medical staff. It wasn't a drill, that much you were sure of.

"We are still getting reports in. All I know for sure is that there was a containment breach in one of the labs," she says. "I don't know what the chemical is yet, but the fail safes to lock down the lab weren't triggered in time. The gas spread too quickly."

You slip on your sneakers and grab your keys, "I'm leaving now."

"Okay, hopefully by the time you get here, Loki will have it fully contained," she says. "We're just starting to get the first wave of victims from the lab down here."

You open your front door and your stomach drops when she says his name. "Loki," you repeat his name as last night flashes through your mind.

"What?" Annemarie asks, the sound of people talking in the background becoming louder. "Did you ask something about Loki?"

You don't answer her, afraid of what she will tell you. You close the door and hear her yell to someone but you aren't listening as you run down the steps of your apartment building. "There's no word-," she says and you stop in the middle of the staircase, her sentence cut off when someone asks her a question.

"What?" you ask, your heart racing.

"There's no word yet on if he contained the toxin," she says. "They're evacuating all three lab floors now."

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚 Please let me know if you want to be added to my taglist!

@soubi001 @mochie85 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @animnerd @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @mischief2sarawr @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @goblingirlsarah @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @kneelingformyloki @jiyascepter @eleniblue @loreniscrying @muddyorbsblr @alyeskathewave @loz-3 @firedrakegirl @javagirl328 @princess-asgard @morally-grey-variant @soulpiercing @km-ffluv @glitterylokislut @biodegradable-glitter-fest @wolfsmom1 @simone818283 @hopefuldreamers-world @blackhawkfanatic @slut4tonystark @dracoswhorexx @sunglasses-in-the-bentley @anukulee @latriacy @trojanaurora @babygirl-panda19 @catsladen @stargazer-luna @rcailleachcola @lunarlopt @gruftiela @bolontiku @scrumptious-finicky-illusion @lokischambermaid @clemthecustestmonster @lovinglokilaufeyson

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thesummerpetrichor · 1 year

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𝓥𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓸 𝓰𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼

Dads best friend!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Summary: For years he’d lived in your head like a distant memory. Something too good, too far away to attain. You shouldn’t be so hurt he’d left his old life behind, but how could you not be, when you had been such a big part of it? But you can’t hold a grudge. Not when he’s standing in front of you– doing everything to prove he’s not a stranger.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI you will be blocked. Mentions of DEA, dads best friend trope, morally questionable relationship, minor angst, chunky age gap [reader is in her 20s Javi is in his 40s], banter, lotsa sweet moments, explicit language, explicit sexual content, couch sex, inebriated sex, cigarette and weed smoking, alcohol, dom!javi, sub!reader, pet names [cariño, baby, babygirl etc.], dirty talk, major praise kink! [lotsa good girl action iykwim] some over the clothes action, grinding, fingering, unprotected P in V [ do better!!]. Let me know if I missed anything!! <;3

Word count: 12.8k oops

A/N: Oof this took longer than I thought it would but I’m so excited for you to read it. Javier is the man of my dreams here 🥺. lotsa porn for you nasties. morally questionable relationship fr but it’s fiction so we’ll forgive Javi. I hope you darlings enjoy! Mwah 💗

Masterlist

Swinging in the backyard

Pull up in your fast car

Whistling my name

Open up a beer

And you say, "Get over here

And play a video game"

The last time you saw him you remember all but tackling him to the ground as he walked through your front door. He had bought you a special edition copy of your favourite Hans Christian Anderson fairy tale, and DVDs of ‘film noir’ movies– the kind your dad didn’t like you watching. You spent the days reading as he smoked cigars by your pool, and you remember your father joking about his ‘bad influence’ as he poured you drinks in the evenings.

That was several years ago, and now all you had left of him was a hazy memory of that distant summer, a fading image of his golden eyes glittering in the setting sun, and your copy of “The Little Mermaid”. That had been the last that he’d visited you– before his work got in the way, before he decided he’d rather stay in Bogotá than come home.

Your life had gone on, and while every year you wondered whether he’d make his grand appearance, as you grew older you came to terms with the realisation that it would just be you and your old man lounging on the patio on those treasured, warm, golden evenings. At university you were pursuing those dreams you always wanted to, the ones your father wasn’t so keen on you chasing, the ones you’d confess to him when he would drive you around the city– to that faraway ice cream place no one else would take you to.

He was all cigarettes and whiskey and secret promises.

“He’ll literally kill us, it's midnight.” It was too late, he was grabbing his keys and jacket, and despite your better judgement the thought of the fairy lights by the beach as you walked with your mint chocolate chip cones had you giggling as you followed him out the door. It was your 18th birthday. “He doesn’t need to know now, does he, cariño?”

He’d telephone your father once in a while, you knew because your house would fill with laughter only invoked by one culprit. You wondered what adventures he was on, were they like the ones he’d tell you as you sat by his side till the early hours of the morning? You wondered if he even remembered– remembered you.

But now you were in Bogotá, in the sweltering June heat, suitcase in hand, scanning the crowd for a face you barely remembered. You were scared, stupidly so, worried that your physical proximity would do nothing to mend his distance. You worried he wouldn't see you as he did before, wouldn't remember your inside jokes, your mischief, how you’d beg him to take you to that dance bar because your dad didn’t like you going alone. That he had somehow morphed into someone you couldn't recognize. You felt hot all over once again, and this time no thanks to the summer sun.

Your head turned left to right, and you spotted among the crowd families reuniting, couples kissing hello, young people returning home, lone travellers, lonely travellers, and in the hustle bustle a black leather jacket walking briskly towards you. He looked older, and tired, but his eyes still sparkled the way you remembered, still turned golden when they met the sun. From the distance he spotted you, and you watched expectantly as his furrowed brows relaxed into a calm, almost surprised expression. You felt a little short of breath, felt suddenly larger than life, as he neared you, your mind spinning and hoping, praying that he was still the man you knew.

“What have you done with my cariño?”

He was looking down at you with that same smile. Everything about him was really the same. He still smelt like tobacco and cedarwood perfume, still wore the same leather jacket, the same faded, button up shirt– with the first two buttons undone. In a moment you felt your mind's eye reconstruct those waning images of him you once cherished, from the dells of memory. And now you saw him vividly, reclining in his chair, sipping his whiskey, leaning on your porch, hair falling in his face in soft curls as he lit his cigarette.

He was a lot more handsome than you recalled.

“Hi” You were smiling so wide your face hurt, and despite the years of his absence there was a familiarity you found comfort in, a sense of belonging, and maybe naively… longing. His hands moved to grab you by the shoulders, and he stepped back to get a good look at you, almost examining how time had passed. “Lookat’ ya, university girl now huh, smart cookie?” The way he looked at you had your heart pitter pattering– with so much pride, and gentleness, and adoration.

Without any hesitation he pulled you into his chest, wrapping you up in his arms, holding your head against him. Waves of calm washed over you, an immediate reassurance you were desperate for. It was his non reluctance, his lack of worry, the way he brought you into his arms like nothing else mattered. With a heavy sigh you collapsed into him, all the uneasiness you felt before melting away as you melted into his touch. He felt warm, and strong, and like you’d remembered.

He was everything you’d remembered.

You felt yourself relax. It had been a long day, a long time getting away from your father, who, despite the fact that you had been living alone for years now, had called you about a thousand times – reminding you to take all your things, to be careful, and importantly to not get into any trouble.

If there was one thing everyone knew about Javier, it was that he was trouble, trouble, trouble.

He was still smiling when he gently pulled away, still looking at you with the same enthusiasm. He was happy to see you. He chuckled as he let go of your shoulders, and you felt your chest swarm with butterflies when he grabbed you by the hand and twirled you around, and in typical Javier fashion produced a white lily from his shirt pocket, and tucked it behind your ear.

“Welcome to Bogotá cariño”

You felt your cheeks heat. For as long as you could remember you pretty much idolised him, and the longer you didn’t see him the more distant and adored he had become. You had worked that distant memory up so much, the memory of that fateful summer, that he’d come to be a symbol of fear and dread in your head. At least until that moment.

You felt silly for ever thinking he’d be different. And there he was, standing right in front of you, putting flowers behind your ear. You mumbled a soft thank you, securing the lily, which was inadvertently an excuse not to meet his overwhelming gaze.

“Your old man give you a hard time on the way up?”

You laughed as you rolled your eyes. If there was one person who knew how much of a stickler for organisation and responsibility your father was, it was him. “He gave me an entire list of things to not do”. Javier’s deep baritone joined your laughter, and he shook his head in faux irritation at the mention of his best friend.

Reaching down for your bags he leaned beside your ear, and you felt your heart race when you turned your head ever so slightly to meet his gaze– at that glimmer in his eyes, his mischievous smile, and raised brow.

“Well, he’s no fun now, is he?”

And with that he was heading towards the exit.

—

I'm in his favourite sundress

Watchin' me get undressed

Take that body downtown

I say, "You the bestest"

Lean in for a big kiss

Put his favourite perfume on

Go play your video game

“He says I'm like you, y’know?” You leaned your elbow on the open window, knees to your chest as you sat curled up in the passenger seat of his car. His eyes were on the road, but his attention remained on you, and you were instantaneously reminded of your trips to the pier, your mint chocolate chip ice creams, and innocent secrets.

You felt warm and fuzzy inside, and your eyes wandered the beautiful Colombian city –the colours, and the smell of summer flowers, and food as it wafted out of the mom and pop restaurants you passed.

“Yeah, you a troublemaker?” He glanced at you momentarily, just in time to catch you rolling your eyes. “”M not, but he thinks Dora’s wreckless for wandering around without her parents.`` His laugh was hearty and he had that smile, that tilt of his head you were sure had all the women around him swooning. You felt your cheeks heat at the thought, especially when he chided you. “Cariño” he dragged out every syllable of that treasured pet name, shaking his head, and raising his brows in your direction, teasingly. “Okay.. maybe I like to have a little fun, but I’m still not like you.”

Letting out an exaggerated gasp his head whipped towards you. “Fuck’s that supposed to mean?!” Your head was buzzing, he's still the same, the same.

“I’m good.” He rounded the corner, and you couldn’t help but wonder who else had been in the passenger side of his car, getting this view you so cherished. You didn’t know why you cared, or why you were even wondering in the first place. It wasn’t any of your business, but somewhere deep down it made your heart ache.

“I know you are honey.. Thought your dad was gonna’ have a fuckin’ heart attack when he called me.” You could only imagine. The poor man. The thought of him persuading Javier to convince you to stay with him for the sake of his peace of mind making you giggle.

“Can you blame him? It was either you or Maria, and somehow you're the better of the two evils.” When you decided to come to Bogotá you originally planned to stay with one of your close friends from university. She had offered you a room in her apartment for as long as you needed. The both of you had applied for the same summer program, and were looking forward to spending your vacation together. That was before you confessed that a certain somebody also lived in Bogotá. A somebody you weren’t initially keen on meeting again. Somebody you had planned to avoid at any cost during your stay.

You weren’t really sure why– if you wanted to keep him away out of spite, or convenience, or fear, but all you did know was that when Maria had practically forced you to ask your dad to give Javier a call you were nothing short of petrified. She would not let it go, even said you’d regret not meeting him, better yet staying with him after how much you’d talked him up in the time you knew her. She was so confident she placed a bet you’d give up her house for his in less than forty eight hours.

“I’m a cop, I’m the obvious choice here cariño” His confidence was charming. He was deceptively charming.

“Yeah. A terrible one.”

“Was a little shocked you wanted to see me..” sometimes you really thought he could read your mind. Not just in that moment, in fact he had a habit of hitting on right whatever you were thinking about, whatever was bothering you, things you felt you couldn’t tell anyone else because they wouldn’t understand. You were not sure if and how you wanted to respond, and if you did honestly whether he would know how much the whole situation had preoccupied you.

“Strictly practical. Wanted to see if you remembered me..”

“‘Course I remember you, been haunting me like a little ghost since I last visited..”. you thought you might just explode at his teasing. You asked yourself if he was being truthful, if he truly thought about you, about how he’d up and left.

“You’re the one that disappeared into thin air!” Undeniably, despite the laughter and banter there was a tension in the air– floating between the two of you heavy and low. But what was he expecting?

Thankfully, the car came to a slow and gradual stop at the side of a small side street, where you spotted a small glass door over which flowers blooming from the floor above had been cascading. “Where are we?”

“Mint chocolate chip” One hand on the wheel, the other grabbing his keys, he looked at you as he spoke, so matter of factly it made your heart flutter. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “No pier, or fairy lights though, and no thrill of running from your papa.”

He remembered.

Heart bursting with love ache, you weren’t really sure what to say. As if he had anticipated your fears he seemed like he was coaxing you into your natural rhythm. Reminding you he wasn’t some stranger whose house you were staying in out of convenience. That you knew him, and that he knew you, remembered you.

“Thank god for the last one..” The memory fluttered between you two– the same thoughts, hovering between your heads. He was opening the door, taking a quick check of the traffic. You stayed put, finding your bearings. With one hand extended he beckoned you towards him, offering his arm when you hopped out the car on wobbly feet. “Oh hush, you loved it, cariño. And he knew, I told him the next day.”

With locked arms you crossed the street, and as if no time had passed you had squished yourself to his side, and had smacked him against the shoulder lightly at his admission. “What?! Traitor!”

“I handled it.” He sounded quite impressed with himself, and when you tilted your head and locked eyes with him you noticed how he looked quite impressed as well. You pressed your cheek against his arm, the leather of his jacket brushing against your warm cheeks.

“You were always the fun one.”

A large ‘OPEN’ sign stared you blank in the face, that was until Javier had gently tucked a finger under your chin, and delicately directed your eyes towards him. “He’s your dad, ‘s not supposed to be the fun one..” he softly remarked, his smile remained, and you felt nothing but warmth, and comfort from his presence.

The moment fell naturally, and he reached forward to pull the door open for you, letting skip ahead of him and into the store. “Feels like my 18th all over again.”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You're the boss Peña, give me the word, and it’s done.” You caught Javier’s reflection in the mirror as you sat down to get ready. Fresh out the shower it took about three seconds for the summer heat to get back at you. He liked to keep his place freezing, and at times like that you could only be grateful– the cool air soothing your scorched skin.

Carillo, Murphy– you could recognize the voices as they bounced off the wall, the same men you’d met when they barged into his home unceremoniously at six in the morning. You would have preferred to meet them in actual clothes rather than your pyjamas, and maybe outside instead of infront of your concerningly large cup of coffee, but they seemed to be used to finding unexpected guests in Javier’s apartment early in the morning.

Regardless of the fact that they’d interrupted your quiet breakfast with Javier, they were really nice people. Carillo’s wife even sent some snacks over with him the next time he visited. One because she wanted you to try the local food, and two because “Javier had nothing in his kitchen.”

“I will. soon as that dick Stechner gets out of my fuckin’ way” reaching to put you necklace on you watched as Javier moved out of your field of vision for a quick moment, returning with a glass filled with ice and an ashtray. What were they talking about? You never really asked about his job, you'd tried to talk him out of it many times, but he never budged. One day he hated it, one day he didn’t.

What he was like at work was a point of endless curiosity for you– he just seemed so different. If you were being honest he seemed like an asshole. In the few times you’d seen him interact with his partners he’d barely cracked a smile, trading in his joking and teasing for curt jabs or looks of disapproval. He also admittedly liked ordering people around, telling them what to do. His phone rang about five thousand times a day, and each answered call was punctuated with an air of control, indifference, and the steady and constant confidence of a man who knew what the hell he was doing. And did not like to be questioned about it. The only people who seemed to break the ice were the two he was speaking to at that moment.

“Javi, think this one through, don’t be fuckin crazy.” The voices drowned out as you put your attention back to getting ready. Maria was right. By the time you called her the evening of your arrival you had abandoned all plans to escape Javier's home for hers. She was in hysterics, endlessly pulling your leg over the whole situation. Your overthinking, your panic, your regret, and most obviously your complete infatuation.

She had picked you up the next morning, and had impersonated you the entire ride to the university. You hoped that you didn’t sound the way she said you did when you spoke of him, that you weren’t all heart eyes. It only made you worried about what you sounded like when you spoke to him.

With your bag tucked under your arm you grabbed your shoes off the floor, heading towards the dining table. “You got work this evening?” you were hoping he didn’t. His eyes lifted off his work to watch you shuffle around the small kitchen. Opening the fridge you grabbed a bottle of chilled water, and leaned against the closed door as you spoke.

“Depends if they call me in, they’re tracking some radio signals so we’re sitting tight till then.” He was leaning back in his chair in absolute exhaustion. Knowing that his day started around seven thirty, and never seemed to end, you didn't blame him. The few days you had been staying at his place he’d join you for dinner and be right back to work in a second. This job of his pretty much consumed him, and judging by his commitment you understood why he had no time for anyone or anything else. The guy was practically married to his job. His job and his co-workers, that is. You wouldn’t be surprised if Murphy and Carillo’s wives were envious of how much quality time Javier got to spend with their husbands.

“So you’re staying up until they get back to you?” You didn't mean to sound so perplexed, but you were. Mostly at how unpredictable his hours were. Did he really want to leave the quiet, laid back life at home for whatever this was? He crossed his arms over his chest, and spoke to you in between puffs of his cigarette.

“Yes, cariño, I'm in my forties, dont got a bedtime.” The man could barely keep his eyes open, and when he lifted his glass to his lips you felt a little better about ditching him for your fun night out. Of course you wanted to sit with him, have him talk about everything under the sun, like he used to, but you didn’t want to be another thing he had to worry about.

You barely got to speak to him outside meal times. If he stayed home, safe to say he’d be preoccupied, and if he didn’t it would be just you, and the white noise in his empty apartment, like it had been for the past four nights you had been there.

The man looked like he needed a cup of tea. You reached for the kettle, pushing it on and leaning against the closed fridge door. “They tell you that at the old people's home?” Grabbing your buzzing phone off the counter you moved towards his surprisingly organised kitchen drawers, in which there was little besides some tea bags, coffee beans, jam, canned fruits and bars of candy. That combined with the eggs, bread and milk in his fridge came to make an almost comical representation of what most people would consider a bachelor's desolate pantry.

Your eyes shifted to the illuminated screen of your phone, an unread message staring back at you.

Maria: Leaving in five <3

As you took the bubbling kettle off the burner you made a mental note, reaching for a cup, and a tea bag from the unopened box of earl grey you were pretty certain Javier did not buy for himself, rather became the owner of thanks to one of the nice old ladies who lived opposite him.

“Somones in a mood today huh?” It was then you realised he had abandoned his work to watch you trudge around his kitchen barefoot in your little party outfit, one hand rested on his chin, one leg crossed over the other as he leant back in his wooden dining table chair.

The teabag bobbed in the steaming water a couple of times, before you were pulling it out and tossing it in the trash. You grabbed his blue mug by the handle– some generic, machine made ceramic devoid of any personality, something you’d probably find in a show home. It looked like it had always been sitting on his kitchen shelf, only seeing the light of day every once in a while when he ditched his liquor cabinet for the coffee machine on the far end of the counter. Knowing him that wasn’t often.

“I'm kidding .”

“Well cariño I was thinking we could go to the dance bar tomorrow, but now I guess I'll have to stay home and rest my old knees.” He looked so surprised when you placed the mug in front of him, rested on a white paper napkin. It was almost like he had expected you to make it for yourself. The chair made a slight squeak against the floor as you pulled it back and took a seat, pulling his glass, now lined with the slight golden residue of whiskey, towards you. He was still surprised, a little taken back even, but not in offence, rather a tender, grateful smile tugged at his lips.

“Since when do you dance?” With your focus no longer split between tasks you turned back to the conversation at hand. Making sure to emphasise you remembered just how uncharacteristic Javier’s little suggestion was.

He took a sip of the earl grey, leaning forward and letting his shoulders fall ever so slightly. The glimmer of a distant memory played in his eyes as he met your gaze.“I don’t. But you do.” Your little reminiscence played in the back of your head like a movie reel, the soft sound of music from the dance bar by your house hanging in the air. As if transported into a distant dream you could see clusters of people twirling and dancing with the beat, like little ghosts behind Javier as he spoke.

“And who am I going to dance with” When you said those words out loud you meant for them to sound a whole lot more utilitarian than they ended up sounding. Whether it was hope, or some odd suggestion you were in no mood to unpack where from deep in your subconscious that had come. All you could wish for is that he didn’t notice.

“Plenty of people at the bar who’d love to dance with my darling.” And there it was, that answer you dreaded, delivered with that signature smile, with that warm, twinkling light in his eyes. “You don't have work tomorrow?” unable to bear the thought you moved along to more practical matters.

He was already halfway through that cup of tea, and like his body was in the middle of some sort of spiritual cleanse you could see him resurface somewhat coherent and with eyes that weren’t half as dead as they were two minutes ago.“‘S friday, need the time off. Besides, I'd kick myself if I didn't make good on your time here. These fuckers still gonna be around when youre gone.” Sometimes you wondered if he was talking more to himself than he was to you.

You felt a little buzzing in your purse, and you rummaged through it to find your phone. A text from Maria reminding you you needed to leave. “Yeah, you're gonna sit at the bar like a senior citizen while I have some fun?”

Rising from your seat you searched the room for the last of your things. Notwithstanding the lack of time he had put into making the place home there were still small elements of him scattered throughout that little two bedroom. The fresh flowers in a glass vase on his centre table, framed pictures and art he’d been collecting over the years, small artefacts he’d brought back from his travels. It was so odd, the whole place stood suspended somewhere between home and a place far from it. Familiar yet distant.

“Hey, they’ve got great drinks.”

He finished the last of his tea, and you picked up his mug and set it in the kitchen sink, running it under the tap water for a quick second to rinse it. Truth be told, you just wanted to sit and chat, and if half heartedly doing the dishes was going to give you a few more minutes with him you’d take it.“Don’t get too excited old man, I'm not driving us home.”

“I can take a few cariño, ‘m not like you.” You travelled to where you’d dropped your heels.

“Slander.” pausing momentarily in the middle of putting on your shoes you lifted your head to find him looking back at you. His eyes had seemingly followed you all the way behind him, and he was still smiling. Had you not had one hand on his couch holding you in place you just might have tumbled over.

“You be careful tonight, and don’t walk anywhere alone, especially if it's past ten. I know you– can't even read a damn map, so no wandering around, call me.” It looked like he had already given up on you, one hand rushing to his face to rub his tired eyes, the other plastered to the table. He was shaking his head the way he did when he caught you sneaking out your house one summer.

“I’ll think about it.” of course you were going to call him, you didn't need an excuse. But you liked to see him all agitated, bossing you around like you knew he liked to do. With everyone, that is.

“No no, you're gonna call me when you get there, and you're gonna call me when you leave, and you're gonna tell me exactly how, and with whom you're gettin back.” You were already at the door, hoping to escape him, but he was yelling your name in that exasperated voice, and you heard him shuffle from his seat to stand up– catch you and drag you back in case that was necessary.

“But-” Turning to meet his peering form over the wall of his living room you parted your lips, attempting to protest, playfully, but still protest, but he wasn't having any excuses.

He was doing that thing where he looked at you with his soft eyes, slightly downturned, and the look could convince you to do just about anything, made you feel like you’d rather die than let them down. Anybody else’s nagging would have got you on your last nerve, but you only felt warmth, concern and care when he did it. Hell he could throw you off his roof and you’d still think the same.

“No buts, no excuses. Thats final” You giggled, half because he sounded so much like a boring old man, and half because he was now leaning against the wall, with the top buttons of his shirt undone, and his hands on his hips, hair dishevelled from when he’d combed his fingers through it.

“You sound like him..” With brows raised you looked at him expectantly, taunting him with your teases, and you nearly jumped out the door when he walked towards you, ready to grab you back to him as you escaped. Any insult was better than being compared to your dad, especially in this context. “Don't you say that, cariño” He was laughing, and you were laughing, and his otherwise quiet apartment building was now singing with an uncharacteristic gleam, a glow, a gaiety.

Your shoes clicked against the floors as you scurried away, turning one last time to see him leaning against his door frame, shaking his head as he watched you skip into the night. “I don't make the rules old man”. You heard him chuckle behind you as you ‘sing songed’ your words, your heart fluttering when you noticed he waited for you to get outside before he closed his front door.

–

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

“Thought I told you not to wander around alone, cariño.” You jumped, but it was too late, he had wrapped you up in his arms, and you were pressed up against his chest, and his voice was a low whisper in your ear. And you were dizzy. The alcohol in your system only partly responsible for your petrified squeak, wavering voice, and the way you swayed gently in his embrace. But when he kissed the top of your head ever so gently you could only giggle, recognising that warm hold, that faint smell of whisky on his shirt.

“Psycho, you scared the shit outta me.” He was laughing when you turned around, exhausted, defeated almost, but his eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and you felt yourself all but swoon at the way he was looking down at you. “You’re lucky I'm the only psycho you ran into” Grabbing your face in his hands each word he spoke was punctuated with hyperbole, and a teasing disbelief. Your own hands shot up to grab his, and your cold palms thawed at the touch. You were sure you felt your heartbeat in your throat when his thumbs brushed the swell of your cheeks, you were sure he could feel the way they grew hot under his rough hands. “Just came out for a smoke, don’t go into cardiac arrest now” your fallen cigarette crumpled under your foot when you stepped on it, and in the midst of your eye roll you watched as he stepped back to look at you in faux disapproval.

“Look at ya’, terrible.” He motioned his head towards the trampled butt on the ground below you. “Me? Terrible?” When you closed the distance between the both of you you stepped on it again, hearing it crush under your shoes, and shoved his shoulder playfully, poking his chest with your pointer finger. “Drinking on the job again old man?” Then he laughed again, this time at your playful yet truthful accusation, and the sound made you feel lighter than a feather. How could one person be so charming, so charismatic, at one in the morning? Like he was divulging a trade secret he raised his brow. “Keeps me awake.”

The blaring music in the club was muffled in the distance as you walked towards the steps of the church in front of you, the quiet and empty street echoing your footsteps. He walked beside you, kept you close on that pleasant summer night. When you turned your head your eyes caught a group of men huddled by a small food stall at the side of the street, hunched over some beers, smoking cigarettes. In the crowd there were two familiar faces. Steve was dressed casually, Carillo and the others in military fatigues. You wondered why he wasn’t walking in their direction, but judging by the look on their faces you concluded there would probably be a better time to do so. Besides, you weren't complaining, he was enough, he always was.

They shot you a half hearted wave, and two strained smiles from across the road.

Taking a seat you pat the stone ground beside you, watching as he looked around, almost willing someone to come into sight, one foot on the steps leading up to the cathedral entrance, wringing his hands. “What’re you doing here anyway?” You wondered what he had done that evening, but you knew you were better off not asking. You were glad to have bumped into him, and the last thing you wanted to do in your giggly half tipsy mood was have him explain something you were sure would keep you up at night. Not when he had that look on his face, his work look.

“Waitin’ on an informant, but someone fucked up and well, we’re back at square one.” he was still searching the street when he bent down to sit beside you, so close your knees bumped.

You felt your heart race a little when he pulled out what looked like a joint he had rolled moments ago from his shirt pocket, when he leaned back on his arm, lit it and looked up at the sky as he took a drag. You wondered if in your little emotional panic, your worry of his disappearance you had blocked out the memory of his striking, handsome face. You wondered if he had always been this beautiful, this captivating, everything he did set you on fire, the way he carried himself.

“Smoke a lotta weed for a DEA agent.”

He turned his head towards you, letting it fall lazily in your direction, and his hair fell in his face the way it did all those years ago, and he shot you that smile that felt like home. “Been a long day cariño”. He was looking back to the sky, but your eyes didn't leave him. He looked so tragic in the moonlight, half lit by its platinum glow. You weren’t sure if it was the liquid courage, or the fact that his shoulder looked more inviting than ever, or the fact that a cool breeze just blew by, and you shivered as it brushed your shoulder, but you leaned your head against him, and you felt your tummy erupt with butterflies when he placed a lingering kiss to your forehead. It was forbearing, and merciful, and you wondered if he had somehow noticed your girlish fawning, your silly admiration, and your heart dropped momentarily, but was soon resuscitated by his soft laughter.

“Remember those cigarettes of mine you'd steal back in the day.” The breeze had picked up, and it’s cool was far more jarring when it kissed your hot cheeks. “‘S’not stealing… you knew.” you closed your eyes, and let yourself get lost in that comfortable memory. “yeah , could've told your papa” He was looking down at you, but you kept your eyes ahead, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

“Didn’t”

“Should’ve” His voice was a mumble beside you, and you found yourself thinking about your dad for the first time in a while, and you were instantly reminded the man you were so taken up by was his best friend, and almost twice your age, and saw you as nothing more than his buddy’s daughter. You stiffened against him.

He took another drag of his joint. “If he was here right now his blood pressure would be through the roof”. A cold breeze tickled your skin, and he rubbed your shoulder gently and despite the murmured chatter in your head you couldn’t help but melt into his touch.

“Darling, I can't believe you've been out this long.” He was laughing, and his horrible impression had you in a similar state. Conflict bubbled in your chest, each word slipping past his lips reminded you of your relationship, of your dad, and what he would think if he could peek inside your head, at your little thoughts. You felt guilty, but how could you hold that feeling? Not when he was shaking with joy beside you, not when he had his arm around you the way he did, not when you were tucked into his side, shielded from the winds.

“You smell like a dingy bar” It felt so natural, your regular routine, the way it had always been, when your dad would say something funny, or outrageous, and the both of you would have a field day. It was well incorporated in your repertoire at that point, but the years apart had the memory sitting on a shelf in your brain, collecting dust. You remember when your dad made a terrible joke the day of your senior prom, and the two of you refused to let it go the entire evening. Javier had a vocabulary of his favourite phrases, and so did you, and you couldn’t help but pull them out every once in a while.

“How am I going to survive you?!” You spoke in tandem, each letter dragged out with faux frustration, an uncanny similarity to your dad’s tone ringing in the air as your blended voices formed a familiar melody. It hung between you as he laughed heartily, and you wanted nothing more than to frame the moment, keep it tucked away where it would be yours, only yours forever. The starry night, a twinkling sky above you, the chirp of the crickets, and perhaps your most treasured person, holding you against him.

You wondered why he left, why he left you behind. Did he feel the same as you did in that moment? Was he happy to be there? To have caught you on your night out? After he’d called off his wedding all those years ago he’d become a rarer sight. You were too young to remember, and it wasn’t long after your parents got married. Growing up in your little town you’d heard he always had a reputation with women, but you never believed a word of the neighbourhood chatter.

They were not the same person– the guy everyone talked about, and your Javier. While you’d never give him a break from the teasing, bringing up all the times you’d run into women in the streets, asking if you’d seen him, you could never really imagine him as the man everyone made him out to be. He was reckless, sure, and impulsive, and insolent, and a hardass, but he was also gentle, and thoughtful, and gallant.

At least he was to you.

As if he could hear your thoughts, and they were so loud in your head you wouldn’t be surprised if he could, he broke the silence. “I wanted to come back cariño, but-”

“But you couldn’t, I know '' There was no point going over what had happened and why, and while you incessantly wondered you knew it was a fruitless exercise. It was just how he was, he liked to up and leave, disappear, keep his distance, and you wondered if that had anything to do with you. But you didn't want to kill the moment, more for yourself than for him.

“Glad you decided to come, cariño” It was like he was trying to convince you, of what exactly you weren't sure, but he sounded so earnest, so true.. and you felt deep down he was trying to make amends for his absence. Not just from you, but from the life he left behind. Were you an exception? Or a way to right his wrongs? mend all that had been pushed aside? You didn't know, but you’d worry about that later.

The winds had picked up, and the sky was gleaming, and for the first time in a long time you felt at peace.

“I like it here, it's nice.” When you spoke he was almost surprised, but your words seemed to only widen his grin. He squeezed your shoulder gently.

“Me too baby, me too.”

—

Singin' in the old bars

Swingin' with the old stars

Livin' for the fame

Kissin' in the blue dark

Playin' pool and wild darts

Video games

He holds me in his big arms

Drunk and I am seeing stars

This is all I think of

“Looks like they knew you were coming.” You swivelled the bar stool in your direction, hopping up on the seat. It was early in the evening, around seven, but the music was already going, and there were people on the dance floor, moving to the beat of retro spanish tunes. Javier took a seat beside you, still in his suit from work, shirt haphazardly tucked into his dress pants, tie loose around his neck.

“Why?” the bartender placed your drinks on the counter, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the fact that he’d stuck to his whiskey on the rocks. “They got the oldies on”. You were giggling, and while he wanted to pretend like he was far too tired to care about your antics he couldn’t help but crack a smile. There was a charm to it– catching a break at the end of the work week, the tranquillity of the weekend enveloping you like a safety net. One of you that is.

Friday night was busy at any joint, buzzing with nightlife, food and drink. Somewhere along the way you’d gotten up from your seat and headed to the large empty space in the middle of the bar, where tables and chairs had been cleared to create a somewhat makeshift dance floor. Javier was right, while he sat sipping his whiskey you found plenty of dance partners.

It was all easy, getting passed from one person to the other as the group formed a large circle. It was like you had disappeared into the crowd, bodies moving left to right in the dim green glow, only occasionally giving you a glimpse of the man sitting at the counter– face rested in his palm. Ask him to dance. These urges of yours were momentary, little private lapses of judgement that would only remind you of what was just not possible.

When he’d take you out back in the day he’d have some minor injury to blame for his lack of participation on the dance floor, and when he didn’t he was “a terrible dancer” or “had too many drinks”. After a while you stopped asking. You realised you’d never really seen him dance.

You had grabbed the hand of a stranger, letting them twirl you around– Javier was looking in your direction. For how much fun he liked to have you had come to recognize hardly any of it involved other people. Weddings, birthdays, barbeques. He was there. However, you’d always felt he looked at it as an obligation. A hi to the bride and groom, a bouquet of flowers, some meaningless small talk and he would disappear out the door. When he stayed it was solely in the company of a few familiar suspects– your dad being one. While he was often the subject of conversation, he was a pretty reluctant conversationalist.

It was hot, and muggy, and if someone asked you where you were in the room you surely couldn’t place yourself. Forcing yourself out of the chatter in your head you looked up, noticing finally that your partner hadn’t changed in the past 10 minutes.

He was looking down at you quite sweetly, he was actually quite handsome, your age, but he didn’t have a white button up on, didn’t have that sideways smirk. He wasn’t Javier. And unfairly, for that reason alone you didn’t want him. But who were you to say no to pretty green eyes, soft, delicate looking light brown hair, a black button up that wasn’t very buttoned up. Neither of you had the confidence to speak up, so you let him sway you side to side, one hand firmly planted on his chest.

You wondered what he really thought of you, if after this little visit he’d be more compelled to come visit, at least spare you a call. Would he disappear once again? Call your dad once in a while and ask him to deliver some impersonal message like ‘say hi to her for me’? You wished you could care less, but you knew you couldn’t, and something inside you told you he knew too.

A firm arm wrapped around your waist, spinning you in the opposite direction, faces turned to motion blur as you turned on your heel. “Looks like a saved you, cariño.” He was twirling you, holding your hand in his and pulling you into his chest. He hadn’t really saved you but at the same time he had. He could pick you up from a field of lilies and drop you in a medieval torture chamber and he’d still be your knight in shining armour.

What the fuck are you doing here? You wanted to ask, but you held back. You wondered what had prompted him on the dance floor. Did he think some weirdo wouldn’t let go of you? Had seeing you dance with someone else accomplished a task years of your coaxing couldn’t? You turned back, but the stranger had already disappeared, and Javier was directing your gaze towards him.

As you had always suspected he was a great dancer, and he sure as hell liked holding you close as you moved along the dance floor. The songs ran over the decades, and he’d often sing lines to you– smiling and pulling you towards him. He looked so handsome, lights reflecting off his face, his smile tired, but earnest, and wide. You almost couldn’t keep up.

“Danced your energy away?” Picking up the pace once again you twirled around him, unwilling to give in. “No! Why? your back needa rest?” You watched him laugh– shake his head and grab you by the hips. “Sure you didn't cariño.. Can't keep up with an old man?” Voice raw from yelling over the music, you pulled his leg. “Think I heard your knee pop.” His raised brow only aroused suspicion. “Oh really?” Before you could even respond his arm had hooked under your thighs, and his hand was on your back and you were being lifted into the air. “Oh my god!” Your own arms flung around his neck, both your laughs floating between you as he spun around.

It felt different and not because something in his head had dragged him out onto the dance floor. The way he was looking at you, the way he just couldn’t let go. It hurt your heart more than anything you’d ever experienced. The pain was conflicting– the love ache and the hurt. Did he know how much he meant to you? Did he even care? Something in your heart told you he did but you chalked it up to innocent hope.

The music slowed down, and you heard emerging from the stereo a familiar tune.

You’d hum it all the time, so much so it would drive your father nuts. In the kitchen, while doing chores, sometimes as you read by Javier’s side. On the weekend when you woke up early to help cook breakfast it’d be the first song on the playlist. You recall how he’d watch you dance around the kitchen, truth be told rather ungracefully in the mornings– spatula in one hand, kitchen towel in the other.They played it at some wedding once, and your friends had bounded to the dance floor with you just to ensure you didn’t miss a note. You were running so fast you all but collided with him, and he had to catch your falling form as you stumbled towards your best friend, shouting a quick “sorry” as you bounded in her direction.

He remembered.

Words were useless when you looked at him the way you did. An expression of surprise, confusion, realisation, all at once, a smile tugging your lips, your doe eyes gazing into his soft brown ones. And his arms were around you, and you were pressed against his warm chest, and you were gently swaying to the beat of the music.

“Looks like they knew you were coming.”

It felt like a blip in time, but it would’ve been hours. People came and left, all around you groups of twos and threes and tens, but you stayed, and he stayed. Smiling down at you, holding you tight. You were a little light headed from it all, feet fighting the urge to take a little break. You just couldn’t let go.

Plopping down on the bar stool you let your cheek hit the cool marble of the counter. Your legs felt like wet noodles, trembling when you finally sat down. You weren't really sure where Javier went, but it felt like an eternity he let you lay there with your eyes closed. Every second was one hundred times longer when he wasn’t holding you. His arm was firm around your waist when he finally helped you out of your seat. You realised he’d been standing only about two metres away the entire time.

“Let’s get you home, ‘s late.” He had picked your shoes up from where you’d abandoned them, his own blazer draped over his arm– the one you weren’t hanging on to. With closed eyes you let him lead you out into the night, all your weight firmly supported by his broad shoulders, your stumbling feet only stabilised when he tucked you into his side.

Unintelligible to anyone but him, and muffled by your yawn and cheek pressed against his upper arm you slurred your words as you spoke. “Past your bedtime?”

He chuckled to himself, placing a soft kiss to the top of your head, his voice a faint murmur– the last thing you really remember hearing. “Yes cariño, past my bedtime…”

—

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

I tell you all the time

Heaven is a place on earth with you

Tell me all the things you wanna do

I heard that you like the bad girls

Honey, is that true?

“You been drinkin’ my whiskey….” He was leaning on the table, waving the glass you left out in the air, holding it between two of his fingers. He wasn’t upset, rather looked quite amused. You rubbed your eyes, making out his smile from a distance. “Couldn't sleep.” Peering into the room you were staying in you were sure he saw your blankets bunched up on the bed where you had been tossing and turning for hours. Your eyes caught the clock on the wall.

1am.

It had been a long day. Being assigned to a new supervisor proved to be a real curse. He was quite a piece of work. Patronising, condescending, everything in between. If that wasn’t enough he rejected your proposal, and asked you to submit a new one in two days. God knows you had a lot on your mind.

The kitchen cabinet swished when he opened it, bringing you back to the present. “God, you really are like me huh?” He still had his jacket on, but judging by the look on his face he needed a drink first. The couch dipped as you threw yourself on it, and you turned over its back rest to watch him move around the kitchen.

“I had like one shots worth, with like a whole glass of water, so not like you.” Curled up under his plush throw blanket you sank into the cushions, eyes following him as he sat down beside you. With a deep sigh he leaned back, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index. “Fuckin’ hell”

“Long day?” He picked up the joint he’d just rolled from the side table, groping for the handle of the drawer to grab a lighter. “Can say that..” It was just another night for him. You were lucky you heard him pull up outside, and had got yourself to look somewhat presentable so you could see him at least once that day. Granted that involved nothing but putting on a bralette.

Maybe it was the fact that it was late, or that you had such a shitty day, or that you just couldn’t help yourself anymore, but you leaned against his chest, snuggling into his side as he took a drag. “I would try and talk you out of this job, but I think I've exhausted all my arguments..” You twiddled your fingers, just wanting to melt into him and disappear.

“I don’t think there’s anything else I could do.” You shivered, his fingers tracing shapes on your upper arm. “Couldn’t do whatever it is you’ve been doing…” redirecting your gaze from your lap you looked up at him. “Sometimes it feels like I can’t either” He was looking ahead, voice low and rumbly, and just what you needed to hear.

“You’ve got time, got one’ve my lifetimes ahead’ve you” He pulled you closer, head resting against yours. “Don't say that” You poked his side lightly, hearing him chuckle beside your ear. “Oh yeah, now those jokes gettin’ to you?!”

Stewing in a comfortable silence you let yourself ease into his embrace, willing your mind to shut up for the time being and enjoy his company. The way he was holding you– so much more delicately than he ever had before had your heart clenching. “Tell me your day was better than mine.”

His words cut through the chilled air, and your heart soared at the thought that it even mattered to him. “No, sucked.” to anyone else you would have responded with a simple ‘it was good’, some white lie to avoid further questions, but you couldn’t lie to him, he’d figure it out one way or another. “My supervisor’s an asshole..”

Nothing was more comforting than the kiss he placed to the side of your head.“‘m sorry honey” He offered you his joint– seemingly having deserted his agenda of being a good influence in favour of apparently celebrating your mutual disappointment. You felt your cheeks heat.

“I've never smoked before.”

Gasping comically he whipped his head towards you. He tapped your nose with his index, pinching your cheek and giving you possibly the most suspicious look he could muster. At least he tried, because his smile peaked through the interrogative exterior. “You little liar.” The gesture had you jumping to defend yourself. Shifting to meet his drooping eyes you almost knocked him over as you plopped on the couch, letting him wrap his free arm around your waist to steady you. “No, promise!” You leaned your forehead against his, your eyes gazing into his in an attempt to convince him. Despite his disbelief you were indeed telling the truth.

“Oh really? Been drinkin’ too, trouble.” his hand snaked up the nape of your neck, cupping your jaw. It was then you realised just how close you were to him. Your eyes flickered to his lips momentarily. When you realised he had beat you to the task you were convinced you were hallucinating, or had somehow gotten high off the second hand smoke. In pain, you were in utter pain, unveiled and unprotected– subjected to his piercing gaze.

Painfully aware of the tension that had settled like a thick cloud over you, your voice came out small and strained, but also hopeful. “‘M not trouble….could be though”

The tightness in his jaw was something you couldn’t ignore. “Yeah, I know” In a moment of bad judgement, or in hindsight good judgement you decided you knew what you needed to do. You were exhausted of having to wonder. You were exhausted of asking questions, exhausted of his absence. You slung your leg over his thighs, lifting yourself onto his lap Leaning against his firm chest you peered up at him through your lashes.

“Baby, careful” You knew this time those words were not for you, you knew he was fighting the urge to gather you in his arms. You could see that look in his dark eyes– hungry, and hot. You could feel him, hard against your cotton panties. He bent down to press his forehead against yours, your noses bumping. “Cariño, you don't know what you're doing.” His actions were in direct contradiction to his words, his large hands cradling your soft cheek, pleading you to put him out of his misery. But you were selfish, like he had been all those years ago, and you needed him to put you out of yours.

“You don’t want this, Cariño” He swiped his thumb over your bottom lip. He was doing that thing again, where he was talking more to himself than to you. But couldn’t let him decide what you wanted, because for years you’d let him convince himself you’d wanted to keep your distance to maintain his own conscience– to make him feel better about how he’d disappeared from your life.

“I know what I want..” You didn’t mean to, but you were pouting, and despite your best efforts to speak with conviction you couldn’t help but come off a little pleading, “show me, please.” surely he knew you weren’t just talking about the weed.

His lips ghosted over yours, and you could just about burst into tears the way he was looking at you. He probably noticed the way your chin wobbled, the way your doe eyes blinked away from his. Because in a moment you heard him sigh heavily, painfully, and apologetically all at once.

And he was kissing you. Soft and slow, and gentle, and benevolent and like everything you’d ever hoped for. He tasted how you’d always imagined– like whiskey and cigarettes and everything in between. Like home. His thumb stroked your cheek gently until you pulled away, glossy eyed and wobbly on his lap.

“Want me to show you what?” And here you thought his eyes couldn’t get any darker. He mumbled into your lips, voice commanding and steady– everything you weren't. He grabbed the back of your neck and guided you back towards him. Threading your fingers through his hair you let yourself get lost in the shelter of his hold. You felt as though he could pretty much eat you alive, the way his lips were moving against yours– suddenly hot and soft and needy.

Heart racing you chased his lips with your own, but he steadied you with his hands, amused at your zeal. “Gotten all worked up now have we?” You couldn’t help it, you tried, tried to sit steady in his lap, but you just couldn’t, not when you felt his cock, twitch against your clothed pussy.

You rolled your hips against his, watched as his head fell back against the couch. The crease between his brows only persuaded you to continue. “Shit baby, tryna kill me?” barely audible, his rasp had you bracing yourself with your hands planted firmly on his chest. You dragged your hips again, leaning down and tugging the fabric of his shirt. He reached for the joint he’d abandoned on the side table, bringing it to your lips.

He observed you greedily. “That's it, good girl.” His voice had never sounded more strained than it did in that moment, watching you take a drag, eyes glossing over. The praise had your heart fluttering, you’d do just about anything to hear it again. Smoking wasn’t helping either of your causes, because it only made you press your pussy harder against his clothed crotch. This time his hips rose slightly to meet you, and he cursed lowly under his breath. Already unable to maintain control.

Taking another drag he leaned back, letting you rub yourself against him, eyes screwing shut every once in a while, just like your own. He’d bring the joint to your waiting mouth every now and then, revelling in the sight of you getting more and more desperate with each puff.

“dirty little girl..” you whimpered at his words. “rubbin’ that drippy lil pussy all over my lap.” You looked down, only to find a dark spot on his grey jeans, for where you pressed yourself against him. Incapable of stopping your movements you continued, relishing how the friction eased the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah? few drags got you all achy cariño, got you squirmin’?”

He was watching you, and you could make out his intense gaze through your fluttering lashes, his eyes scanning you up and down, then fixing on your face of strained pleasure. “Tell me how good it feels, Cariño” His palms smoothed up and down your thighs, harsh and slow, and exercising all the self control he could muster. It was difficult to answer, a response bubbling in your throat before you were incoherently blurting it out.

"Feels so good..” whining, you grabbed the fabric of his shirt in your fists, bouncing on his lap lightly to feel just anything against you, you wanted more, lust and intoxication clouding your judgement. “Please, need it, need it so bad” Losing all sense of restraint one of his hands reached for your hips, squeezing and gripping firmly.

He dragged your already rolling hips against him, sliding you against his clothed crotch to the point you couldn’t help but let your legs fall limp, your forehead press against his shoulder. “Need what?” You could feel the tick in his jaw where it was pressed up against your cheek.

His hand slipped between your bodies, moving your soaked panties aside to feel your wetness. You shuddered when you felt him against you, grinding down on his hand. “Fuck, look at that. So fuckin’ wet for me babygirl.”

“Need you inside me, please.” Nosing his neck you pressed a kiss there, mouth falling agape as he rubbed your clit, fingers teasing your entrance, just barely pushing into you. “Like this?” If your laboured breaths were any indication you couldn’t take it much longer.

You wiggled your hips, trying to bear down on his digits, but he pulled away only to squeeze the inside of your thigh. ““Gettin’ to you already? use your words baby” he was taunting you, your little ‘no’s making him smirk against your shoulder as he went back to sliding his fingers along the cut of your pussy. “What do ya’ want me to do to you? Tell me babygirl.” You knew the sweet talk was only meant to encourage you, and while it worked you couldn’t help the way your cheeks burned when you replied.

“Want your cock inside me. Want you to fuck me.. please … need it”

Now that he listened to, fingers pulling away and tapping at your lips. When you gazed down at them you could see how wet you really were– having drenched them in the little while he’d had his hand in your panties. Obeying you parted them, letting him slide them into your waiting mouth, sucking gently, the taste of yourself heady on your tongue. “Good girl.” Even though he looked quite composed on the outside you still noticed the way he swallowed thickly when your tongue ran along his digits.

“Want me to fuck the cute lil pussy?” you shook your head vehemently, and he chuckled at your enthusiasm. “That's my pretty baby.” he kissed you like he wanted to devour you, frantic, and urged, voice so rough it came out almost like a growl. His hands roughly grabbed your hips, flipping you to lay back against his couch. In a moment your sleep top and bralette had been discarded, in a pile on the floor alongside your shorts and his own clothes.

Slotting himself between your legs you looked down to where his fingers were tracing the inside of your thigh. You gazed up at him, upper body lit by the dim orange light of the side table, broad shoulders slumped as he admired the sight of you– on your back, in nothing but your panties, all for him. As he slowly pulled them down your legs, he sure seemed to relish the way the fabric of your cotton panties clung messily to your wet pussy.

“Poor thing, just need someone to take care of you don’t you?” It was less of a question and more of a declaration, and undoubtedly it made you feel open and weak. How could you not feel that way? There you were laid out in front of him, every part of you exposed, his toned torso being the only part of him you could really see thanks to the half lit room. It felt like if he looked just a little closer he’d be able to see right through your naked body– and into your scrambled thoughts.

His index teased your dripping hole, briefly dipping into you and coming back to rub soft circles on your clit. Gasping, your fingers flew to grip his wrist when you felt him slide his cock against your cunt, tip teasing your sensitive nub ever so slightly. “Relax babygirl, be good for me.” Bringing your hand to his lips he peppered your knuckles with kisses, willing you to ease into the cushions as he draped himself over your body. He grasped your face in his palm, kissing his reassurance against your forehead as you felt him line himself up with your leaking entrance.

You mewled at the stretch of him, at how hot you felt against him as he eased himself into your soft pussy. “Shit- so fucking tight-” his stopped for a second, like he was willing himself not to split you open with one quick snap of his hips. “can barely fit my cock in this lil pussy.” Leaning in your lips searched for his. He let you melt into him, fingers brushing against your side as if to calm you down.

It was so much– his weight on top of you, his hips slotted between your thighs, forehead pressed against yours. You could feel every pulse, every throb, every ridge of him inside you, nudging those spots you could never reach yourself– and he wasn’t even moving yet.

When he did start moving you couldn’t help the whimper that slipped past your lips. Your fingers digging into the flesh of his biceps, pulling him closer. You needed him, pressed up against your rising chest, holding you. “I know cariño, I know.” His right hand squeezed your waist, “Feels so good doesn’t it? Yeah feelin’ all full?”

His voice was so sweet, like honey, warm and sultry in your ear. You nodded a quiet ‘yes’. He cradled your face in his palm, nose nudging yours gently. Mumbling his own rhetorical “yeah?” he kissed the underside of your jaw. For the first time he felt as close as he physically was, big and thick inside you.

You were drowning in his arms, enveloped by them, cocooned in a bubble of heat, and low breathy sighs, and his lips ghosting over yours as he thrust into you– hard, but slow, and deep. “That’s it, just like that–” he picked up his pace ever so slightly. “Such a good girl.” His words were gruff, and stuttery and his breath tickled your ear whenever he spoke.

Feeling the drag of his thick cock against your pulsing walls your eyes struggled to focus on him above you. He on the other hand seemed to have no trouble fixing his gaze on your trembling form. “Makin’ me feel so–” he brought his thumb to brush the swell of your cheek, “fucking good, baby”. Your head buzzed at his praise, burning face turning to rest in his palm.

With your back lifting off the soft cushion you reached to pull him impossibly closer, wiggling your hips to meet his thrusts. “More, please, please.. Want it” you couldn’t recognise your voice, not when you were begging him, watching his eyes twinkle. “Yeah? Need me to fuck this pretty pussy harder?” you nodded– feeling embarrassed enough at his smirk of surprise to hide your face in his neck, but not enough to stop begging. Another soft “please” barely falling from your mouth.

Rising slightly he grabbed your hips, holding your thigh against his side. Your tilted hips granted him a whole new angle, and before you knew it you were throwing your head back, letting it fall against the upholstery. “You want that, don't you baby? Need me to stuff you full of my cum?” You could only respond with your sounds of pleasure.

He pushed you against the cushions, hovering above you to drive himself deeper, watching you turn into a moaning incoherent mess– your whimpers and whines bouncing off the walls and only exhilarating his pleasure. “That's right cariño, I gotcha’” one hand squeezed the flesh of your hip, then travelled up to brush against the exposed column of your throat– fingers tracing your skin before he was leaning down and placing sloppy kisses against you.

“gonna fuck this pretty pussy till she’s dripping with my cum.”

He must have noticed that dumb, hazy look in your eyes when propped himself back up, still fucking you till your hips pressed into the sofa’s cushions. “Fuck, nothin in that head of yours huh?” You made out his smirk of pride as you jostled around, trying your best to keep your eyes on him as he moved above you.

It was far easier said than done. Not when you could feel his cock against your throbbing walls, could hear his scruff groans whenever he felt you clench around him, not when he was looking down at you with his furrowed brows, and sweat gemming his hair– which’s curls had been ruffled out of place from when you’d ran your fingers through them.

Especially not when he shifted ever so slightly, and you felt his tip brush that sensitive spot inside you you didn't even know you had. Javier cursed above you, feeling you squeeze his cock. “that the spot huh babygirl?” he watched the way your eyes fluttered shut, face scrunching in pleasure as he hit it over and over and over again.

Your head lulled from side to side, your body in overdrive and completely overwhelmed at the sensations. That was until he was cupping your cheek in his palm, tilting your face in his direction. “Use your words for me.”. But you couldn’t, parted lips struggling to form anything coherent besides soft, little whines.

His hips snapped in a deep, slow thrust. “Say it..” Your eyes were barely open, and you reached and tried to grab him closer, but he stayed above you, unwilling to budge as he slowed to a complete stop– waiting for you to voice your needs. “Yes-”

He mumbled against your lips, nipping, and kissing. “Good girl, my good girl.” To that you nodded, back arching as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. Every part of you singing at his touch– how he kneaded and squeezed your hot flesh.

The coil in your belly only tightened and tightened, and you suddenly felt too vulnerable, too exposed to meet his hooded eyes. Turning your face to the side you let the plush throw blanket hide your hot cheeks, burying your face in it. “Look at me, wanna see your pretty face.” It was an instruction. One he expected you to follow like all the others.

You didn’t think he’d notice that hitch in your breath, the way you did the opposite and smashed your face against the soft fabric. It was all too much, and he was fucking into your soaking pussy, and his hands were roaming your body, and you could feel his skin brush yours, and you were dizzy, and overwhelmed and you could scream and–

And he was slowing down again, just enough to where he kept you on that edge, to where you could savour every bit of him inside you. – “Cariño, look at me..” God he sounded so tender, coaxing you out of your daze just enough to the point you shook your head ‘no’, whimpering and turning only further away from him.

He kissed your cheek, cooing at your overwhelm. Not to mock you, rather he sounded quite endeared, prideful even. “Baby” Nudging his nose with yours you felt his thumb rub soothing circles against the apex of your cheekbone, urging you in his direction ever so slightly. Your eyes fluttered open, just barely, only to find him smiling down at you.

“There’s my girl.”

“Need you to look at me when ‘m fuckin’ you.” He held your face in place as his hips met yours, slow and languid. No part of you was left untouched, his kisses adorning every inch of your exposed skin, lips coming to press against yours every now and then. It was like he could see through your nakedness, and the thought terrified you to no end, made you feel small and defenceless, and had your sensitive cunt squeezing his cock.

“You close honey?” When you nodded your nose bumped his, and he laughed before he was kissing you gently. He brushed the sweat from your brow, voice so mellow yet in control. “Cum for me baby-” You felt him deep inside you. So so so close. ”Wanna feel you cum all over my cock”

It rolled over you, slow and intense and deep, in waves. He held you close, cooing at your trembling frame, holding you against him. “'M here cariño, I gotcha, just like that.” Groaning, he watched your eyes struggle to remain open, rolling back into your head as he fucked your throbbing cunt. “That's my pretty girl.”

His own hips stuttered, thrusts becoming sloppy as he neared his release. Still experiencing the aftershocks of your orgasm you felt him fucking into your warm, pulsing pussy. You felt his cock twitch inside you before he was filling you up with his cum, a strained curse slipping past his lips.

Ears ringing you registered him catching his breath above you, but it was all too hazy for you to make out. All you really knew is that he hadn’t let go of you, hadn’t abandoned you on the couch to smoke a cigarette or pour himself a drink, instead he was peppering your face with little kisses. “ ‘m so proud’a you cariño– did so well for me.”

Pulling out he slid his hand under your back, flipping you over so you were snuggled into his chest. The cold air from the open window could barely touch your skin before Javier was throwing the blanket over you– keeping you warm, close.

You were still in your daze, but even as you lay on top of him, drifting in and out of a deep slumber you couldn’t shake the worry that when you opened your eyes he would be gone.

That he would have traded you in for the comfort of his bed, or worse would have disappeared into obscurity once again. The thought only stung more as you felt his cum leak out of you, mixing with your own to drip down your thighs obscenely.

You never really knew if he regretted it, if he wanted you for sure, if he liked having the weight of your body against him. Flinging your arms around his neck you tugged him impossibly closer, burying your face in his neck. A silent plea to stay where he was. You didn’t care if you seemed needy, or clingy or pathetic.

It was like he knew somehow, like your thoughts floated to him after you’d thought them. And as always there was no explaining to do, no questions to answer, nothing to say. His embrace was safe, and secure, and unwavering. “close those eyes for me cariño mìo” He planted a soft kiss to your nose, his arms tightening around you, palms rubbing soothing circles on your back. “‘m right here babygirl, not goin’ anywhere….”

You did. And he didn’t.

It's better than I ever even knew

They say that the world was built for two

Only worth living if somebody is loving you

And, baby, now you do

Now you do

Now, now you do

Now you do

I would also like to add that we are engaging with this concept solely in the realm and interest of fiction. This type of situation is a huge red flag. While the reader is seemingly consenting and enthusiastic there is a huge power imbalance between her and Javier. He has also known her her whole life and has been a significant part of her childhood. Engaging sexually or romantically in a relationship like that is creepy gr*omer behaviour. I used their past as a narrative device because this isn’t real, but please be aware of your media consumption, and that dynamics between characters in fic are vastly different from what is healthy, and ethical in real life. 🫶🐝💗

I really hoped you lovelies enjoyed it!! Please let me know what you think, I'd love to hear it! Thank you to everyone who reblogs my work, you keep me writing. Dividers and banners by @ saradika 💗🐝✨

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mintsbubbletea · 5 months

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𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨 - 𝐁𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬

Word Count: 1,252

Contains: Gender Neutral Reader, No pronouns used. Blood, kissing, cursing not sure if I missed anything

Proof read and Edited

Sitting at your desk in your dorm room, you immersed yourself in the soft melodies playing in the background while diligently jotting down notes on how to enhance your quirk. Each page was filled with valuable information shared by your mentor, and you found that writing them down helped etch them into your memory. Suddenly, a loud and abrupt knock shattered your concentration, causing you to snap out of your bubble. You turned your head towards the door and called out, "Come in."

The door burst open, revealing a flustered Denki who seemed to be rambling incoherently. Amidst his jumbled words, you could only make out something about a fight and blood, but it was clear that the teachers couldn't find out. Concerned, you stood up and walked towards him, only to be joined by Tsu entering the room. "Hold on, Denki. Who's hurt? What happened?" you asked, trying to piece together the situation.

"It's Midoriya and Bakugo. They got into another fight, kero," Tsu explained, her voice filled with worry. Denki chimed in, his rambling now replaced with a more composed tone. "It's pretty bad. There's blood all over the floor, fists flying, and explosions everywhere. It all happened so fast, and we barely managed to pull them apart," he revealed.

Confused, you questioned, "What does this have to do with me? Shouldn't we be getting Recovery Girl?" As you reached for your phone to text your grandma, Tsu hesitated before responding, "Well… we can't. We wanted to ask if you could use your quirk to heal them. This is their third fight, and Mr. Aizawa warned that if he catches them in another one, they'll be in serious trouble, kero."

Everyone in UA knew one thing for certain: you were the granddaughter of Recovery Girl. It was common knowledge that you couldn't heal major injuries like she could, considering her years of experience, but you had the ability to mend cuts, bruises, and other minor injuries to some extent. Your father, who was also a healer, had been teaching you alongside your grandmother since you were little.

You had used your quirk to assist your classmates before, but never to conceal something significant from the adults. "So you want me to keep this a secret from Mr. Aizawa and my grandma?" you questioned, releasing a sigh. Deep down, you knew you would eventually give in and help. Both of them looked at you with hopeful eyes, pleading for your assistance. "Alright, let's do it."

"Thank you, Y/n! You're amazing," Denki exclaimed, patting your shoulder. The three of you then headed towards the lounging area, where Deku and Katsuki sat in separate seats, each holding ice on their hand or nose. Several of your classmates surrounded them. "Thank goodness you're here, Y/n. We didn't know what else to do," Momo said, stepping away from helping Deku. Curious, you glanced at Deku, who had a bruised fist and cheekbone, and asked, "How did this even happen?"

"None of your damn business, first aid!" Katsuki's sharp retort echoed through the room, his frustration evident as he winced in pain and held the ice against his throbbing nose. Rolling your eyes, you leaned down and planted a gentle kiss on Deku's cheek, causing him to blush softly and smile in return.

With a soft blush, Deku looked at you and spoke, "Oh, you know, we were just caught up in a brawl." He expressed his gratitude as he flexed his hand, relieved to see the pain and bruising subside.

A smile played on your lips as you nodded, acknowledging the intensity of the fight. Walking over to Katsuki, you noticed him pushing Eijiro away, who was attempting to clean up the blood on his face and clothes.

"Don't touch me, hair-for-brains!" Katsuki grumbled, shoving Eijiro's head away with frustration. "You're bleeding all over the place! Just hold the cloth to your nose," he pleaded with the blond. Reluctantly, Katsuki snatched the cloth and placed it under his nose, watching as it quickly turned crimson. His gaze then shifted towards you, standing before him. Anticipating your next move, he immediately shook his head. "No way, I'm not letting your perverted ass anywhere near me," he declared, his tone defiant.

Confused, you questioned, "Then how am I supposed to heal you?" Taking a seat beside him, you observed the swelling on his nose. "I don't care, just keep your weird lips away from me," Katsuki huffed, averting his gaze.

Deku chimed in, attempting to persuade Katsuki, "Come on, Kacchan. We can't get in trouble. Y/n was kind enough to help us."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at Katsuki's snarky comment. "I didn't ask for your opinion, nerd," he retorted, as you started pinching his swollen nose lightly. He let out a yelp of pain, causing you to smirk. "Does that hurt?" you asked, increasing the pressure on his nose. "Let me fix it for you real quick," you offered, ignoring his protests. "Come on, we don't want Mr. Aizawa catching us," Kirishima chimed in.

Katsuki grumbled, reluctantly agreeing. "Just hurry up, you perv, and keep your hands off me," he grumbled. You smiled softly, releasing his nose and leaning in closer to his cheek, feeling the warmth radiating from his face. You hesitated for a moment, biting your lip. This wasn't the first time you had done something like this, but it felt different this time. Taking a deep breath, you pressed your lips against his cheek, pulling away after a few seconds. A blush crept onto your cheeks.

"Alright, now get lost," Katsuki muttered, looking away, his nose already looking better. "Thanks again, Y/n. We really appreciate it," Deku said with a grateful smile. "No problem at all," you replied, standing up and quickly making your way back to your dorm. The music you had left playing filled your ears as you closed the door and leaned against it. Your eyes widened slightly as a whirlwind of thoughts flooded your mind. Did you actually like him? Or was it just his attractiveness that caught your attention? Lost in your thoughts, you stood there for what felt like an eternity until a knock on your door snapped you back to reality. Blinking a few times, you opened the door.

Katsuki stood there, hands buried in his pockets, his gaze fixed on you. "Hey," you greeted softly, feeling a bit uneasy as you awaited his response. "Is everything okay? How's your nose?" you inquired, concerned. "Just shut up," he snapped, his tone harsh. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling," he started, his expression conflicted. "I don't like it because I'm supposed to hate you, but I can't. And that kiss… even if it was just on the cheek. I couldn't get it out of my head," he admitted. "Although you're a total pervert, I didn't hate being kissed by you."

You were taken aback by his words. "What?" you began, only to be interrupted. "So, don't go kissing anyone else, got it?" he warned sternly. You nodded quickly. "Okay," you replied with a soft smile. Katsuki's eyes softened as he moved closer, his hand reaching towards your face. "Stop picking at your lips, you're going to mess them up," he scolded gently, wiping away a trace of blood from where you had been picking at them earlier.

"Thank you," you said gratefully, smiling at him as he withdrew his hand. "See you tomorrow, first aid," he muttered before turning to walk away.

tags: @slayfics Lmk if you wanna be added

#mha fanfiction #mha #mha x reader #my hero academia #mintsbubbletea #bnha #bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #kacchan #mha bakugo katsuki #mha bakugo x reader #mha katsuki bakugo #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x gender neutral reader #bnha x reader

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ltwilliammowett · 10 months

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Life on board a 17th century warship

The sailing crew was divided into two watches under the two lieutenants, each working for four hours while the other rested. While off duty, they were expected to stay below decks and out of the way, but could be called to work at any time if all hands were required, such as when anchoring or making a major sail change. When below, they probably tried to sleep as much as they could, since the four-hour schedule is not natural and quickly leads to fatigue. When not sleeping, they probably used much of the time off watch to mend their clothes and shoes, but they might relax with games, music or a popular new pastime, smoking, although this was only allowed in the cookroom.

War Ships 17th Century, by Jefferys, Charles W. 1942 in: The Picture Gallery of Canadian History Volume 1, p.99

Food was also prepared in the cookroom, a brick-lined hearth in front of the mainmast in the hold, and carried up to the gundecks in buckets, where it was doled out into big wooden bowls. Depending on the ship, food could also be prepared in the galley, which was located in the forecastle or midships.

Each man had his own wooden spoon, and some had wooden plates, but most ate from the bowl shared by a mess, a group of six or seven men who ate and lived together. They drank weak beer, "ship's ale," from a shared wooden tankard. The base of the diet was salted meat for protein and dried peas and bread for carbohydrates. Barrels full of bones found in the hold show that the meat was mostly beef, with a little pork and mutton, as well as fish and poultry. Interessting fact was that some of the crew were prepared to supplement this, as fishing equipment and hunting weapons were found in shipwrecks like the Vasa, as well as the bones of roe deer, moose, and grouse. The skeletons of chickens suggest that a few fresh eggs were available.

As in other navies, they did not issue uniforms in that time, the men had to buy or make their own clothes. In some cases cloth was provided as part of their salary, but the typical sailor's clothing was the same as the clothing they arrived in from the farm or town: a linen shirt, a short, skirted woollen doublet (jacket), wool trousers that ended below the knee, woollen socks, and leather shoes. Many had broad-brimmed hats or conical caps. The cloth varied from coarse homespun to imported dyed fabrics, but almost all sailors sewed strips of contrasting cloth or even lace down the outside seams of their trousers in imitation of the clothing worn by the well-to-do. Clothes had to be hard-wearing, since most people could not afford more than one set.

The senior officers lived aft in the cabins of the sterncastle, where they had more space, glass windows, proper furniture, and ate their meals from pewter or earthenware table service. They had finer clothes, but as more than one visitor to Sweden from the continent remarked, it was difficult to tell the nobles from the peasants, since they dressed alike. The officers also had to share their accommodation, sleeping in pairs in narrow double beds, but the cabins were built to resemble the interior of houses ashore. The great cabin, where the king or an admiral would stay, was fitted out like a room in the royal palace, with fine panelling and carved sculptures that emphasised the power of the people who lived there.

The 17th century was a violent period, and both on shore and at sea brutal punishments were prescribed for even minor crimes. Conscripts often came from rough backgrounds, but discipline was essential for the smooth and safe functioning of a ship. In crowded conditions, small disagreements could easily blow up into fights, grumbling could turn to mutiny. Officers had to earn the trust of the men they commanded, but needed the option of punishment for the intractable. The articles of war specified that a person causing a fire was to be cast into the same fire, a person starting a fight was to be stabbed through the hand with a knife, blasphemers and those speaking ill of the king or his officers were to be keelhauled, murderers should be tied to their victims and thrown in the sea. In practice, a captain who had to use these punishments too often risked losing the respect of his men and his fellow captains and could not rule for long.

#naval history #life aboard a warship #17th century #age of sail #history

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jeonjungkookenthusiast1997 · 3 months

Text

The Price of Love and Loyalty - Lee Minho x Reader

Summary: Y/N is sent deep into enemy territory, by her older brother, to try and mend an age old feud between two Mafia organisations. Can she gain the trust of the Stray Kids? Can a hatred that long standing be fixed by a simple truce? All Y/N knows for sure is it's going to take a lot of patience to make this messy situation work out for the best.

Do not repost or translate my work! My blog is 18+ so minors do not interact!

TW: gangs, mafia families, weapons and mentions of violence, some major hostility between everyone involved, mean Minho, mentions of BTS as a rival gang.

Word Count: 3K

"This is a bad idea Namjoon. A really fucking bad idea"

Y/N's words echo through her thoughts as she walks the streets of Seoul.

Slender fingers pull at the sleeves of rather thin coat attempting to pull it closer to her shivering body as she roams the abandoned streets looking for a very particular building, it's been a long time since she'd been allowed to this part of town so she endeavours to soak it all in before she's no doubt banished back to her own territory… or worse.

Her older brother Namjoon was the imposing, usually smart, leader of the Mafia she belonged to but she truly feared her beloved brother may have finally lost his mind if he thought sending his little sister into enemy territory is a good idea.

Bangtan had lost a lot of good and loyal members recently in fights with their rivals Stray kids, so determined not to lose anyone else Namjoon decided a truce was the best course of action.

That is why Y/N is currently trudging towards Stray Kids headquarters, her nervous eyes flitting between buildings that tower above her.

"Almost there" she whispers to herself in a bid to settle her nerves.

She rounds the last corner to her destination with a weary smile and is about to walk the last stretch of pavement when a blow to the back of her head sends her body hurtling to the rocky floor, dark bleeds into her vision as she moans in pain before losing consciousness.

When Y/N finally wakes up her eyes are watering, barely adjusting to the harsh light when a dark chuckle sounds in her throbbing ears. She looks down as her head swirls with confusion and notices that she's tied to a chair with thick black ropes.

Groaning, she tries to lift her head to look at her assailant. A disparaging ‘tsk’ is sent her way as her eyes finally focus on the man in front of her.

“I would advise you not to move too much YN, you'll only make things worse for yourself” she recognises the voice as a pair of cruel brown eyes reveal themselves.

"Lee Minho" she grits her teeth as the words drip from her throat like venom.

A sinister smile stretches over his lips and reaches his cheeks as he glares at the woman left helpless before him looking her up and down before whispering in a dark tone ”you're in my territory now little one”

Y/N glares at Minho as she watches his movements carefully "you've got a shitty way of greeting people, you didn't need to knock me out. I would have come peacefully"

Minho scoffs as he moves closer to her "yeah yeah and I'm the king of England, why are you in my territory anyway?”

He's so close to her now that she can feel his warm breath fan over her face as he speaks. She hums to herself as she acknowledges his words.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" A smirk graces her features as she tugs on the ropes binding her hands behind her back "maybe I'm just here to get a glimpse at the great and powerful Lee Minho, is that a crime?"

The man's distaste for Y/N is palpable as his nose scrunches in disgust “Oh, not at all YN…” he coos sweetly at her, his words dripping with sarcasm “but your appearance here is still a little suspicious don't you think…”. Minho tilts his head to the side as he looks at her.

Y/N notes that, with his face so close, his eyes are a warmer shade of brown than she remembered with almost golden flecks scattered around the orbs making them shine beautifully and yet at the same time they appear so cold and cruel. She doesn't dwell on those distracting thoughts for long though as she tugs on the ropes again to no avail.

With an overly dramatic sigh her head tips backwards in an attempt to get away from his fiercely perceptive gaze.

"Fine, fine I'm here on behalf of my brother. He wants to talk to Chan. Figured he'd be shot on sight if he came here himself so here I am…yay" her eyes roll as she feigns enthusiasm.

Minho’s eyes glow darkly but surprisingly he does chuckle at her “ah, so you’re just Namjoon's little messenger? But why does he want to talk to Chan?”

Y/N’s eyes shift to look away from the man to a dark corner of the bleak room "I guess you could say that. Is that really any of your concern? I'm here to talk to Bang Chan, not you"

A low, almost animalistic, growl leaves his throat almost shocking her “anything involving Chan's safety is of concern to me, little girl”

Minho’s gruff voice echoes loudly in the small room “so, I advise you not to hide anything from me, otherwise you won’t be getting what you came for. Haven't you learnt not to mess with me Y/N?”

Minho moves his head away from her face as his fingers trace over a small wound, coated in dry blood.

Wanting to be as far away from Minho as she possibly can given her circumstances she tries to shift her body but can only pull so far away with her hands bound making her huff in annoyance.

"My brother wants to call a truce between our organisations" the room is silent for a moment before Minho finally speaks up.

“A truce?” he's clearly not very happy about the offer judging by the frown on his face “and why do you want a truce?” he smiles crookedly as he adds “our families work very differently. You, above anyone should know that for a fact”

Her ability to remain calm is slipping as she grits her teeth to stop the insults that threaten to leave her lips.

"Oh come on Minho we both know a truce would be beneficial to us all. We've both lost good people in the last few months, Jungkook has a hole in his leg currently because of a gun fight with your men!"

The brooding man smiles fondly at this fact "ah yes…poor pathetic Jungkook"

Something inside of her snaps at that "well I happen to know that your precious little Hannie is bundled up in bandages right now after a run in with Jimin" she smirks at the probing words knowing it's bound to get a reaction.

A fire blazes in Minho's eyes as he reaches out to grip her hair harshly between his fingers "the fuck did you just say?"

Y/N simply smiles at him as she remains silent, wide doe eyes blinking at him in fake innocence.

"Why would we want a truce after everything Namjoon has allowed his men to do?" Minho drops her hair from his hold as he turns his back on her, ready to leave her to rot in that disgusting room.

"I understand you don't trust us and I don't blame you. Hell if you came knocking on my door I'd have Yoongi knocking you on your ass in seconds"

She lets out a laugh as Minho's retreating form stiffens "that's another reason why I'm the one that's here"

At that Minho turns to face her with a look of actual interest in what she had to say "I need to see Bang Chan before I continue speaking, I don't want the message to be misinterpreted"

His eyes roll but he gives her his full attention again “you're right, I don’t trust you”

Minho’s body seems to tense but he isn't outright rejecting her words “but since you are here in the flesh clearly as a sign of goodwill, I will let you talk to Chan”

Minho steps away but she feels a chill run down her spine as he turns towards her “but I’ll be staying right here with you”

It's an understandable response really and she had been waiting for it, Minho is part of Bang Chan's inner circle and the head of his security detail so she doesn't fight him on this front.

"I expected that so please untie me so we can get this over and done with" she wiggles her arms to get his attention on her bound limbs.

Minho seems to think for a moment, weighing up his options before he mutters a gruff “No. You stay bound”

Minho uses one of his hands to grip her arm, lifting her body up into a standing position making her whine out in frustration.

He keeps his hold on her arm firm as he stands beside her “for our safety and yours…let’s go" without any more warning he begins pulling her out of the room and down a long corridor.

They pass a few locked doors and armed guards before stopping at a large and intricately decorated door.

"Are you ready?" Minho smirks as his hands come to knock on the door.

He gives the door a few sharp taps before opening the door to reveal the Bang Chan himself staring at them intently.

There's a few men huddled around him as they point to some papers that are scattered across the leaders desk, the hurried whispers stopping abruptly as Minho steps into the room stopping as the pair reach Chan.

“Hyung I have a surprise for you” Chan's eyes almost bulge out of his head as he clearly recognises Y/N.

Chan's eyes stay trained on Y/N for a few moments before they slide to her side to look at Minho "what the fuck is she doing here? Should I be expecting Namjoon to burst through my window any second now?"

He's clearly very annoyed and at that moment Y/N is glad it isn't being directed at her.

"Apparently she was sent here by Namjoon actually" Minho shrugs his shoulders dismissively.

"Oh really? What happened to her head then? And why is she tied up?"

At this Minho finally looks somewhat sheepish "okay that was me but she was intruding on our turf!"

"I didn't know she was here to deliver a message and I sure as shit didn't wait around to ask! I haven't untied her in case tries something" Minho turns his head pointedly to look in her direction as he finishes speaking.

Chan sighs deeply as he rubs his eyes "a message? What message?" Chan's eyes are planted firmly on Y/N again, much to her displeasure, as Minho nudges her.

"I have already told Minho this…" she glares at him as he smiles amused by her side

"but I'll say it again for the benefit of everyone in the room, I'm here because my brother wants a truce between Bangtan and Stray kids" she waits patiently as her words float through the air.

Chan’s gaze is laser focused on the nervous girl, he is silent for a moment before he finally speaks.

“A truce, huh...?"

"Why does Namjoon want a truce and why send his precious little sister into the lion's den? Any of us could have killed you on the spot, you’re lucky you escaped Minho with a simple cut”

Clearing her throat before speaking again she looks to the floor "Namjoon's sick of seeing his brothers hurt and murdered"

"That's why he wants a truce and as for your other questions, he sent me because he knows that above all else you respect women. He figured you'd at least let me explain myself"

She takes a breath as all the eyes in the room are focused on her

"that and well, there's too much bad blood between you and our members. At least I haven't killed any of your men" she finishes as her eyes scan the men standing beside Chan.

She recognises a few faces.

She notes that Felix and Changbin are at his side with Seungmin off in the corner watching her intently with dark cold eyes as he spins a butterfly knife between his fingers sending chills down her spine.

"He also sent me because I'm part of the deal he's offering"

"As a sign of good faith Namjoon is proposing that I stay here until you can be sure he won't attack your 'home' anymore" she closes her eyes for a moment as she tries to calm her rapidly beating heart.

The room is so silent after her speech that it's almost suffocating as she waits with bated breath for some sort of response.

Chan's face hardens, surprising her "he's offering to keep you here? Like you're some sort of prize for us to hang on the wall? What if we don't trust you enough to keep you here?"

Y/N goes to speak but is stopped as Chan stands up from his seat. He walks around the desk and towards her as sweat starts to build on her forehead.

"Are you even willing to stay here? Willing to follow my rules?" Y/N nods to Chan's questions.

"Namjoon has asked me to do this and I will do it to the best of my ability. I've also seen such horrible things, watched our members get hurt, had to watch Taehyung hold Jungkook down as he screams in pain so that I can make the blood running from his leg finally stop…".

Her vision becomes cloudy as she bites her lip as the tears drip down her cheeks "I want it to stop" she whispers as she looks down to the floor, not wanting the enemy to see her hurting even if she was trying to negotiate an alliance with them.

Bang Chan is silent as he looks at her for a moment, she can feel that Minho is looking at her too and the thought makes her wriggle against the rope wrapped around her hands.

“very well…I can see the loyalty you have for your family. I only hope we can trust you to show the same loyalty to us”

Chan turns his back on them as he walks back to his desk ignoring the surprised looks from the younger members "you can untie her now Min"

Minho nods as he pulls out a knife and cuts the rope. Her eyes drift to his own and she notices that his face is a little softer than it had initially as Chan sits down he watches Y/N wipe the tears from her face with a look of sadness.

"I take it your brother will be in touch to finalise the details?" She simply nods, not quite trusting her words.

"In that case, Minho, I'll be entrusting dear Y/N to you to watch over" Minho groans at the command but nods dutifully.

"Take her and get her step up in the room beside yours" Chan gives Y/N one last look before returning his attention to the papers on his desk, Minho takes a hold of her arm more carefully than before and tugs her out of the room.

It's oddly silent as they walk down the winding corridors which lead to his room, Minho finally speaks up after noticing the awkwardness of the situation.

"I suppose I should officially welcome you to the family..." Minho says while attempting to diffuse the tension.

He leads Y/N up a flight of stairs before finally reaching two doors "My room is the first on the left here if you need anything and this is your room" Minho opens the door and ushers Y/N into the room as he strolls in after her.

Y/N looks around the room while Minho fiddles with something off to the side; the room is relatively simple, she notes, it has a large floor to ceiling wardrobe, a comfy double bed. A full sized mirror and a lamp stowed beside a small bedside table.

Minho gives her a few moments to find her bearings before speaking "well it's late and I'm ready for this day to be fucking over"

His sigh makes her turn to look at his face, his eyes are bloodshot and has bags under them which makes her wince as he gives her a piece of paper which seems to hold his phone number on it.

"in case you need it… try not to though ‘kay?" she nods while watching him walk to the door, leaving the young woman to her new personal space.

"Chan will probably arrange for me or Bin to go get your shit from Bangtan so don't worry about all that"

Y/N eyes start to water a little at the mention of her old home making Minho panic as he moves towards the door "since I'll be watching over you for now, if you need anything just text me or knock on the wall… I guess”

He's about to leave when Y/N grabs his wrist making him turn back “thank you for you know… not killing me straight off the bat”

Minho snorts at her words as he nods “hmm you're lucky you’ve got a pretty face. Wouldn't want to mess it up too much” again he laughs at her when he notices her wide eyes.

“Night” he smiles ever so slightly as he turns and slips away into his own room leaving Y/N alone to take everything in.

Changing into some old shorts and a baggy top she found laid on top of her bedside table she flung herself onto the bed, it was comfy sure but it wasn't home.

As her thoughts turn to her brother and his own inner circle, each of the members in it becoming like family themselves, tears flow freely from her heavy eyes and her chest rises with her increasing sobs.

She doesn't even care anymore if the Stray Kids members can hear her, she's distraught about leaving them behind but she understood why Namjoon had done it and that made the pain in her heart burn a little less brightly.

She'd done this for them, to stop the bloodshed and pain that invaded their lives daily and if her living here was the only way to do that she would have to suck it up and deal with it. As she's about to go to sleep her phone, which she had almost forgotten about, buzzes to life with messages coming through fast.

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

Y/N?

Are you okay?

Do I need to beat some bitches up?

Cause I swear I'll come down there and

fuck

them

😡

God of Destruction 💀:

Please tell me you got there safely? 💜

Kook calm down, I'm sure everything's fine

Jiminie Cricket 🦗:

Speak to us Y/NNN

If you don't answer I'll be forced to cut a bitch 🔪

J-Nope 🔆:

Has anyone heard from her yet?

Guessing not?

Motionless Min 😴:

Starting to worry now…

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Lil Tae Tae 🎤:

If she doesn't answer in the next 5 minutes I say we burn their building to the fucking ground

Jinnie Choos 💁🏼‍♂️:

Motionless Min 😴:

Wouldn't we risk killing Y/N doing that?

Seems counter intuitive? 🤷🏼‍♂️

God of Destruction 💀:

No one is doing anything until she gets in touch and that's final

Everybody got that?

Jeon Cena 💪🏼:

What if she doesn't get in touch?

We sit around and do nothing?

Strawberry Shortcake 🍰:

Guys!

I'm fine!

Please don't burn the building down 🙈

Just been given a room so it could be worse

Seems like I'm stuck with Lee Minho for the time being 😫

She can't help but laugh as fresh tears roll down her cheeks "fuck I'm going to miss these idiots"

Y/N wipes the tears from her eyes before quickly explaining to the guys exactly what had happened from Minho tying her up, which was met with many furious responses, to Chan agreeing to the truce.

It takes her a few hours but finally the exhaustion finally kicks in and her swollen eyes close as she begins to dream of her happy life back at Bangtan.

Once she felt she'd given a good enough update she bid them all good night and buried herself under the unfamiliar covers.

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deception-united · 6 months

Note

It's me again. Are there proper ways of writing fight scenes that flow well? And are there ways to make fights feel realistic without feeling like it stops the story in its tracks? How do I find the middle ground between realism and injury healing times?

Thanks for asking!

Maintaining realism in fights while keeping the story flowing smoothly is crucial for engaging storytelling. Here are some tips to achieve that balance:

Integrate fights into the narrative: Make sure that the fights serve a purpose in advancing the plot or developing the characters. They should feel like a natural progression of the story rather than an interruption.

Character motivations and stakes: Ensure that the characters involved in the fight have clear motivations and stakes. This adds depth to the conflict and makes the fight feel more meaningful to the audience.

Use variety in fight scenes: Avoid repetitive fight scenes by incorporating different fighting styles, environments, and tactics. This keeps the audience engaged and prevents the story from feeling stagnant.

Show the consequences: Realistic fights have consequences, both physical and emotional. Show the aftermath of the fight and how it impacts the characters and the story moving forward.

Balance action with other elements: Don't let the fight scenes overshadow other important aspects of the story, such as character development, dialogue, and plot progression. Maintain a balance between action and quieter moments to keep the story flowing smoothly.

Keep it concise: Avoid prolonged fight scenes that drag on unnecessarily. Focus on the key moments of the fight that are most relevant to the story and characters, and move the narrative forward efficiently.

Incorporate tension and suspense: Build tension and suspense leading up to the fight to make it feel more impactful. Use pacing, foreshadowing, and strategic placement within the story to heighten anticipation.

Make it believable: Research fighting techniques and strategies to ensure that the fight scenes are realistic and grounded in reality. Avoid overly exaggerated or implausible actions that may break immersion for the audience.

Finding the middle ground between realism and narrative pacing in injury healing times and recovery can be challenging but rewarding for maintaining both credibility and story momentum. Here are some tips:

Research: Understand typical healing times for various injuries. Medical websites, journals, and consultations with healthcare professionals can provide valuable insights.

Consider context: The severity of the injury and the overall tone of your story will influence the healing time. A minor scrape will heal quickly, while a major wound would naturally take longer.

Character abilities: Take into account your character's physical condition, age, and any supernatural or futuristic elements that could affect healing. A trained fighter might recover faster than an ordinary person, while futuristic technology or magical abilities could speed up the process.

Plot demands: Sometimes, the pace of your story might require injuries to heal faster than they would realistically. In such cases, consider adjusting the healing time while maintaining some level of believability.

Show the process: Even if you need to speed up the healing process for narrative purposes, acknowledge the injury and its effects on the character. Show them experiencing pain, discomfort, or limitations even as they recover.

Use time skips wisely: If you need to compress healing times for the sake of pacing, consider using time skips or transitions to indicate the passage of time without dwelling too much on the healing process itself.

Balance drama and realism: Strive for a balance between dramatic tension and realism. Injuries can provide opportunities for character development and conflict resolution, so consider how the healing process can contribute to the narrative arc.

Persistent effects: Even if a character's injuries are on the mend, they may not fully heal before the story's conclusion. Implementing this in your writing involves ensuring that the injury continues to affect the character in some way, whether it's physical discomfort, limited mobility, or psychological trauma.

Plot hindrance: Use the not-fully-healed injury to hinder the character's progress or add tension to the plot. For example, if the character's arm was injured in a fight, they may struggle with tasks that require the use of that arm, such as wielding a weapon or climbing.

Pain and discomfort: Continue to reference the injury after the initial healing period. Describe how the character experiences pain or discomfort, particularly in situations that aggravate the injury. This could be triggered by specific movements, weather conditions, or emotional stress.

Character growth: Show how the character copes with their lingering injury. This could lead to moments of vulnerability, resilience, or resourcefulness, allowing for further character development and depth.

For more tips on writing fight scenes, see my previous post!

Hope this helped ❤

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#writeblr #writing #writing tips #writing help #writing resources #creative writing #fight scenes #deception-united

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aziraphales-library · 1 year

Note

do you know of any fics set during the 70s 80s or 90s with a splash of punk!crowley

Here are some for you...

Think We're Alone Now by wonderlandiscrumbling (T)

Crowley has to admit there is an excitement to the punk rock scene in Los Angeles, CA during the 1980s. They love the fights, the loud music, the booze, and the fashion almost as much as they love Aziraphale.

It's the Beginning of a New Age by fluorescentgrey (T)

In August 1970, Aziraphale and Crowley attend one of the Velvet Underground's final shows at Max's Kansas City.

how to pay for my own life too by MostWeakHamlets (T)

"Growing up, Aziraphale knew long skirts and waist-length hair in braids."

Aziraphale is raised in a religious cult that promises its members will all become angels when the rapture comes. He learns all the things a girl should know, but problems quickly begin to form when he attends school on the Outside. He starts doubting that girls his age are actually supposed to know how to deliver babies, mend clothes, and cook dinner for their 10 siblings as he's always been told.

And he highly suspects that he's never been a girl in the first place.

Infernal Harmonies by Aspiring_Eccentric (T)

Rock ‘n’ Roll turned out to be Crowley’s favorite invention of the twentieth century. He may lie and say it’s the internet, but it’s not. He has always been a music fanatic, and it has informed his fashion choices for as long as there has been music. It wasn’t any wonder that the raucous genre of Rock’n’Roll took off after the shock and awe of the Second World War. Make all the arguments for “that’s just the way music was already headed” that you want, Crowley will tell you that wasn’t entirely true. After so much Death, People wanted to Live. Music, after all, has always been one of the greatest ecstasies of sentience. And Crowley is determined to make Rock the most popular music of the century. An unsanctioned bet with his angel certainly has NOTHING to do with it! ...But will he have the guts to collect if he wins?

Finisterre, Sometimes by sheffiesharpe (M)

It begins with a snake, and a garden, obviously. No, not that beginning, and not that snake, and not that garden, either, to be perfectly honest. This beginning, this link, this closed and independent little loop, begins in 1980, as we said, with a snake. [A little bit of punk rock, some interludes across the ages, and what happens immediately after the first day of the rest of their lives, which is something neither of them would ever expect.]

Minor chords in a major key by Sani86 (T)

Azirapahle Felton transfers to St Francis' Academy for his final year of school, stepping into his older brother Gabriel's illustrious shadow with the firm knowledge that he could never measure up. Anthony Crowley is his roommate; he would rather be a musician, but his father has other ideas that he's determined to enforce, and school is as much an escape from his family home as a means to an education. This story tells the tale of the year that they shared a room; a year that would change the trajectory of both their lives forever.

- Mod D

#good omens #ineffable husbands #punk crowley #1970s #1980s #1990s #human au #mod d

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wild-flowerhoney · 7 months

Text

percy/nico fics masterlist

- AO3 pseud: cabin13 -

• COMPLETED WORKS

unreal unearth series - stand alone works whose themes/titles/ideas were inspired by hozier's unreal unearth album:

1. the first time that you kissed me (i drank dry the river lethe) - three chapters, rated gen, son of neptune au where percy develops feelings for nico in camp jupiter, angst with a happy ending.

2. heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and i) - three chapters, rated gen, post-canon, au where nico left after gaea and ends up at percy's after six years, angst, domestic fluff, happy ending.

3. carving through the dark (hold me like a knife) - three chapters, rated mature, for the 'unreal unearth' series, infidelity/cheating (not on each other), a percy and nico that can't seem to stop chasing after one another, deeply flawed characters all around.

only the sun - two chapters, rated gen, post-canon where nico reveals that he saw them question his loyalty from the jar, emotional hurt/comfort with hopeful ending.

when the sea rises to meet us (nothing left for you and i to do) - two chapters, rated gen, soulmates au where nico shouldn't be percy's soulmate but definitely is, angst, hopeful ending (possible series/more chapters in the future).

what love means series - five one-shots for the 12 days of percico/nicercy christmas. all fluff and very slight angst:

1. to put in the work - gen, aphrodite and percy discuss his blossoming relationship with nico.

2. to have a home - gen, percy and nico talking about their plans for christmas.

3. to be there for someone - gen, their relationship during the years in four phone calls.

4. to make the best of it - gen, a christmas gift mishap.

5. to give yourself to someone - teen, wedding day fluff.

i'd be home with you - one-shot, rated teen, attempt at humor, fluffy proposal fic.

on the mend - seven chapters, rated teen, follows married percico as they go through a rough spot, angst with a happy ending.

growing into us series - all my fics for percy/nico fest week 2024, all about growing and healing and building relationships.

1. the soil and the sea - four chapters, rated gen, nico and percy getting together years after hoo, mutual pining, light angst, unrequited solangelo (from will), moving in together, domestic fluff.

2. gather the pieces - two chapters, raten gen, nico and percy fell in tartarus together au, dealing with the aftermath of akhlys and tartarus as a whole, not actually unrequited crush, healing and getting together.

3. taste divinity on your lips - one-shot, rated mature, nico becomes a god after his death, mourning and grief, worship, getting together, happy ending.

• WIPS

the relinquishment of logic - two chapters, rated explicit, the haunting of hill house au, horror, mystery, major/minor character death, grief, cousin incest, eventual happy ending.

colored in love - three chapters, rated teen, buddy daddies au, assassins/hitmen percico accidentally adopt a child, found family, humor, angst/fluff, happy ending.

devotee - eight chapters, rated explicit, post-canon percy and nico as friends with benefits, pining, slight angst, past emotional cheating (light and not on each other).

inherent vice - four chapters, rated explicit, hunger games au, angst, minor character death, hunger games canon violence, grief, murder, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, district one nico and district twelve percy.

to the ends of the earth (would you follow me?) - three chapters, rated gen, percy and nico meet in the lotus casino, mix of show and book, slow burn, eventual romance, friends to lovers, inspired by @g0thnico's post.

what was holding up the ground (it was you all the way down) - one chapter, raten teen, percy struggling with his sexuality after years of being exposed to heteronormativity.

in the dark of sleep - four chapters, rated explicit, russian doll au, time loops, temporary character death, post-canon percy and nico keep dying and reliving percy's 21st birthday.

• COMING SOON

all that glitters is gold - the greatest fairy tale never told AKA shrek au. half-human/half sea monster percy embarks in a quest to rescue a prince from a tower with his satyr companion grover so that the lord of the land will give him his home back free of magical creatures.

when the earth is trembling on some new beginning - sequel to "when the sea rises to meet us (nothing left for you and i to do)", shouldn't be soulmates but definitely are percico dealing with the fallout of their new relationship.

#percico #percico fics #i had to make this bc i got comments like “you should write more percico!”#and that's all i write tbh so #pinned #pjo hoo toa #percico fic masterlist #masterlist #nicercy #nicercy fics #so far out of fandom business i didn't know there was a difference apparently

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wangxianficfinder · 9 months

Text

In the mood for...

~*~

1. Itmf best brother nmj/nmj is everyone’s da ge.

🧡 Where's Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending)

~*~

2. I randomly came across this video recently of the Japanese Rabbit Hopping Assc. today, and I immediately felt compelled to ask if anyone has written (or possibly is inspired to write) 'actually very serious rabbit agility racer Lan Wangji'

Video link if anyone wants it lol:

youtube

Tumblr story by @/mondengel2 I took it as a prompt

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3. Hii!! I am really looking for fics with angst with happy ending (happy ending for wangxian mostly) coupled with Jiang Yanli betraying Wei Ying if there are any? Thanks!! @yilinglaobunny

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4. Hiya!!! I've got an IIMF request: fic where Wen Yuan is actually a blood heir of the Wen and that somehow factors into the story importantly (like, he's Wen Rouhan's grandson, has special Wen powers, etc). Thanks for all the hard you you all do! @kimboo-york

sami's 'Dream of Youth' and 'Hand in Hand Together' has A'Yuan as Wen Xu's bio son. It's a minor plot point though.

The Dreams of Youth by sami (E, 85k, WangXian, YZY/TLJ, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Fix-It, Family, Not Lan Sect Friendly, Bad Dads, good dads, JFM's A+ parenting, Qingheng-Jun's F- Existence, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Sort Of, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Sexual Content, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Some People Live/Not Everyone Dies, Canonical Character Death)

Hand in Hand Together (All Your Life) by sami (T, 41k, WZL/JC, WangXian, Queerplatonic relationship, Implied future MingLi, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Healing, Slow Burn)

When Flowers Spring from Killing Things by windsweptice (B0redaf) (Not rated, 100k, wangxian, Wen WWX, Demonic Cultivation, WWX Has No Golden Core, he's got a resentful one instead, Yīn Iron, WRH pov, LWJ pov, WWX pov, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Sentient Burial Mounds, XY Is A Little Shit, WQ pov, Protective WWX, Protective WQ, Cinnamon Roll WN, Protective WN, LXC pov, BAMF WWX, Burning of the Cloud Recesses, Fall of Lotus Pier, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WN, BAMF WQ, Good Person WX, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Cloud Recesses Shenanigans, Weddings) might not be everyone's cup of tea cause he's literally wen ruohan's son

~*~

5. Hello! ITMF a fic where WWX survived the siege at Burial Mounds and remembers that LWJ saved him that night at Nightless City. Then WWX finds out about the punishment LWJ had to go through because of that. And WWX takes LWJ to Burial Mounds to mend his scars and they end up together.

I saw a fanart of wangxian with Yilling Patriarch!WWX treating LWJ's scars and that was all I could think about.

❤️ A Myriad of Blossoms by Itszero (E, 56k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Forced Marriage, YLLZ WWX, Hurt LWJ, Cruel wwx, he's cruel until he's not, Protective WWX, Caring WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, Bottom LWJ, Dark WWX) pls pls read this because based on ur request this is amazing (pls don't hate wwx in the beginning)

~*~

6. Hello! I'm in the mood for fics where wwx is experiencing some kind of delusion or psychosis and lwj (or other characters) try to help him through it. I don't mind wether it's canon universe with the demonic cultivation being the cause, a curse or even modern au.

Thanks!

From Underneath by steppjes (M, 15k, wangxian, Character Death, Major Character Injury, Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mystery, Supernatural Elements, Demons, Ghosts, Hallucinations, Grief/Mourning, Blood and Injury, Depression, Hospitals, Mutual Pining, The Troubles of Baby Acquisition, Very on brand self hate from wwx, he's going through a lot okay)

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, Protective JC, POV LWJ, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Soft JC, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels)

let me sing to you by greybird_crookedbranch (T, 61k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, adorable Juniors, Minor Original Character(s)for plot purposes, Minor Violence, Demonic Cultivation, resentful energy, Trauma, Guilt, Protectiveness, BAMF WWX, Hurt wwx, Protective WWX, Protective LWJ, Baby Lans, WWX loving and being loved by tiny Lan babies, LWJ being utterly whipped for WWX, Mental Instability, Possession, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV LWJ, a tasteful seasoning of Yunmeng Bros Reconcilliation, CQL canon except LWJ is not chief cultivator, Nightmares)

out in the garden, there's things you hid away by saltyfeathers (E, 121k, WangXian, Possession, Animal Death, mass death event, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt(s), lotta hurt lotta comfort, wwx-centric, unfortunately there's also a bodily fluids warning, just like a lot of bodily fluids, there is sex and it is all in the last chapter, Serious Injuries, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post canon)

Something at the Door by Pip (Moirail) (E, 50k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Modern Cultivation, background 3zun, Background Yi City trio, Intrusive Thoughts, Horror, Suicidal Thoughts, Temporary Character Death, Blood, Explicit Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mystery, Urban Fantasy)

~*~

7. Helloooo mods! It’s been a while! 💜 for the next itmf can i get some completed fics that explores wen ning in a romantic way? Like fluff and falling in love? Aside from JC , i don’t mind who he’s shipped with.

Thank you! 😊 @jikcf

the height of summer by la_dissonance (G, 8k, WN/LWJ/WWX, Getting Together, Romance, Accidental Courtship, On purpose courtship, Polyamory, Fluff, a small amount of pining, Love Confessions, WN/Happiness forever otp, Gift Giving, Secret Admirer)

~*~

8. Can you please find a au marvel or Wwx as Wanda or black widow ! Thank you 😊 @brighterthanmagicalfluff

~*~

9. Ok guys, I'm in the mood for your favorite Good Uncle LQR fics. I don't care for any other details besides that, please & thank you

小兔子 | Little Bunny by dragongirlG (T, 6k, LQR & LWJ, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LSZ & LQR, minor wangxian, POV LQR, love language: acts of service, Caring LQR, Character Study, Canon Universe, References to Canon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Comatose QHJ, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Hopeful Ending, Podfic Available, Good Uncle LQR)

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 742k, WangXian, WIP, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Feelings Realization, Getting Together, Sexual Tension, Supportive LQR, Light Angst, Internalized Homophobia, Period-Typical Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, WWX learns about his parents, First Dates, First Kiss, First Time, LWJ is confused, Then he is 100 percent on board, Kink Discovery, Kink Exploration, Bisexual WWX, Dual Cultivation, Slow Burn, Fix-It of Sorts, Not JFM friendly, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Blood and Gore, Supportive LXC, Protective LXC, Canon Divergence, Inventor WWX, Eventual Smut, Possessive LWJ, Genius WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Scheming NHS, Cultivation Discussion Conferences, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Minor Character Death, NHS gets himself a beard (not the facial kind), POV WWX, Fluff and Smut, Burning of the Cloud Recesses)

Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing)

Skate Happy by cinder1013 (E, 12k, wangxian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Skate disco waiter outfits, booty shorts, Inappropriate Marriage Proposal, secret wedding plans, Good Uncle LQR, Good Friend JGY, not entirely evil XY, wwx has low self-esteem, but it works out in the end, They buy a farm, wwx wears what he likes, Panties, Anal Sex, A+ parenting all around)

🔒 Baby, Beard and Birds by mondengel (G, <1k, LQR & LWJ, Fluff, Babyfic, Family)

🔒 An old kettle, a tiny teacup, and a new pot. by mondengel (G, 2k, LQR & LWJ)

Between the rotten apples lies a fresh grave by hamlets_ghost (T, 12k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Twin Jades of Lán Dynamics, Canonical Character Death, (Madam Lan), child LXC, Child LWJ, Child Neglect, implied kidnapping, (madam lan), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, (also madam lan), this is not a happy fic so mind the tags please, passive suicidal thoughts (but not really?), Angst with a Happy Ending, non-linear timeline, semi-explicit discribtion of a corpse (chapter 3), Slightly hinted 3zun)

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, Implied WangXian, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Good Uncle LQR, Neurodivergent LWJ, Baby LWJ, Baby WWX, Parenthood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

through the eyes of elders series by Fleetling (T, 13k, LXC & LWJ, LXC & LQR, wangxian, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, CQL Canon Compliant, LQR's perspective on wangxian, mainly him being frustrated at wwx wasting his talents and then realising that oh no that backfired wangji's in love, the homeoroticness of sword fights, wangxian DOES NOT get together there's just ust and longing glances like in canon, LQR isn't bad he just wants the best for his nephew, LQR pov, LQR is a good uncle, LXC recovering from the whole JGY thing is a major part, Wingman LXC, good brothers!!!)

Good Guy Lan Qiren series by thunderwear (T, 28k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Golden Core Reveal, LWJ's POV, Fluff, Everyone Lives AU, LQR finds out about WWX's core, wwx and lqr are friends?? In My Fic? its more likely than you think, lwj in the bg like whats happening?, WWX goes to Gusu, Mutual Pining)

The stuffed bunny, the beautiful nephew, and other gifts from Lan Qiren by deliciousblizzardshark (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, Modern, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff)

~*~

10. OMG I REALLY WANT TO READ REVERSE ROLES LZ AND WWX (ex: cold WWX and troublemaker LZ, Top WWX and Bot LZ) IDK 😭 @naoenowa

~*~

11. hi! I'd like to make an itmf req for canon era fics that feature a dark(ish) gusu lan/lan zhan, such as "hoards and treasures" by apathyinreverie which i loved. for instance, fics where the gusu lan interpret their rules with a darker lens, and where they might turn to manipulation/deceit to achieve what they consider right.

i know about "A Matter of Time", which is on my read list! but I'm also esp interested in seeing the dark gusu lan/lan zhan trope explored without time-travel elements. thank you very much! @potatokunst

~*~

12. Hola :) , For the next In the mood for, I'm really, really interested in Lan Sizhui fics centric, specially related to Gusu Lan or his relationship with Clan Lan.

you are my chosen family by jinyinhua (T, 14k, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, LJY & LSZ & LWJ & WWX, 5+1 Things, Good Kid LJY, Good Kid LSZ, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Drinking, Age Regression/De-Aging, Married Wangxian, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

Revolution by mrcformoso (T, 8k, WangXian, ZhuiYi, Light Angst, Happy Ending, POV LSZ, Found Family, Toxic Elders, Fatherhood, Growing Up, The Lan Juniors, LWJ Adopts LSZ, WWX is LSZ's Parent, LSZ is a polite menace, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Good Uncle WN) You might need to read the other stories in the series but if you just want LSZ feels then this can stand alone :)

this blood in my mouth by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, POV LXC, Post-Canon)

~*~

13. Hi!

For the next IMTF, I'm looking for fics where LXC finds himself a new passion and is hilariously bad at it, much to others' amusement & secondhand embarrassment. Especially lwj or lqr is suffering.

His partners, be it jgy, nmj, jc or anyone, is very supportive of lxc's passion. It could be baking, gardening, cooking, dancing etc.

For example, "The evolution of the heart" by Uglybeautiful, Radiencia..(lxc takes up magic/the art of illusion and joins a circus) @imstillthinkingaboutithmm

Magic Mishap by Regency_Bunny (T, 8k, WangXian, NieLan, Modern AU, Single parent WWX, Fluff, Humor, Kid Fic, Meet cute, Love at first sight, Himbo LXC, Magic tricks)

The Shape of Your Love (is Horny) by Vamillepudding (T, 25k, WangXian, XiYao, Urban Fantasy, Getting Together, Romantic Comedy, WWX is Bad at Being a Demon, LWJ is definitely a Monsterfucker) had a running gag about LXC taking up new hobbies that he is horrible at, including ceramics, perfume-making, knitting, etc. JGY is very supportive and LWJ and LQR try to ignore it out of politeness

~*~

14. Hi! I’m itfm

a) tattooed lwj agenda. Specifically when his arms are tattooed and they show when he pulls up his sleeves, but anything and everything is fine

b) Ceo lwj where his employees find out he’s married or dating wwx or regular office worker lwj and his coworkers find out

Thank you! @wangxian-is-my-life

14A)

(our friendship) up against the ropes by daltoneering (E, 36k, WangXian, Modern AU, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, lan zhan FUCKS, Fluff and Smut, Experienced LWJ, Oblivious WWX, Mutual Pining, Friends With Benefits, Pining while fucking, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, Spit Kink, Dirty Talk, Light Bondage, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Kink Negotiation, Pride and Prejudice 2005 (dir. Joe Wright), mentions of Wei Ying/others and Lan Zhan/others)

🔒 Craquelure & Coverups by Inessencedivided (E, 27k, wangxian, Modern, Tattoo Parlor AU, Reincarnation, Tattoo Artist WWX, Tattooed LWJ, Dreams and Nightmares, Past Lives, trauma discussions, Mutual Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Chronic Pain, First Kiss, First Time, Body Worship, Non-Penetrative Sex, Happy Ending, further tw in the notes)

Tattoos for Broken Hearts by TriviasFolly (G, 1k, WangXian, Modern AU, LWJ has a Tramp Stamp Tattoo, that's the fic) lower back tattoo

14B)

like strawberries on a summer evening by ritualist (E, 15k, WangXianChengYi, Foursome - M/M/M/M, Modern AU, Accidental Voyeurism, Office Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Choking, Light Dom/sub, Light BDSM, Bratting, Light breathplay, Wei Ying says no when he means yes (and everyone understands this to be the case), Mild S&M, Spitroasting, Rimming, Porn with Feelings, Polyamory) lawyers, poly 4some

~*~

15. Hi! For ITMF, could you recommend me a heavy plot fic in canon era before WWX died and revolve around him. It can be fix it/time travel/canon divergence/etc. No bashing except several character like YZY, JFM, LQR, JGS, WC, WLJ. You can bash them but i prefer not.

Thank you @idontknowwhattowriteforusername

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16. I saw a lwj whump in the itmf some time ago but I can't find it.

I believe it was physical lwj whump specifically, can u help please?

hope you're having a nice day

Alter by Solmae (E, 162k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Drama & Romance, Slow Burn, Canon-Typical Violence, Rape/Non-con Elements, Gang Rape, Forced Prostitution, PTSD, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch WangXian, Explicit Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Angst with a Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Torture) LWJ is taken as a sex slave by the Wen, so definitely counts as whump

Bring Your Wonder (Lose Your Faith) by kianspo (M, 75k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Different Sunshot Campaign, straight boy wwx, Feelings Realization, Protective LXC, Protective WWX, BAMF WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Twin Jades of Lán Feels, POV Multiple, LWJ Whump)

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17. Hi! I know this isn’t your normal ship, but could I itmf WWX/NMJ fics? I recently read “Better Things To Do With A Flute In Wartime” (a WWX/NMJ/ eventual also LWJ fic) and really liked the dynamic between WWX and NMJ. Particularly how blunt NMJ was, how he valued WWX’s mind and strength from a kind of unbiased viewpoint as a sect leader and war general, and also that they bonded over unorthodox cultivation methods. Would love to see more of this couple! Thank you so much!

An Elegant Solution by giraffeter (E, 205k, niewangxian, canon divergence, arranged marriage, friends to lovers, fix-it, everyone lives au, courtship, polyamory, smut)

Crowned in Glory (fear no more) by Pip (Moirail) (E, 19k, NMJ/WWX, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Loss of Virginity, Size Difference, Sunshot Campaign, Sexual Tension, Certified dage fucker, Dirty Talk, Oral Sex, Rimming, Canon Divergence, Butterfly Effect, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Dubious interpretation of resentful energy)

Resent & Blossom by manaika (T, 26k, NMJ/WWX, JC & WWX, LWJ & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & WWX, Love Triangles, Pining, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, eferences to Fatal Journey, Strangers to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Murder Attempt)

Pastime (With Good Company) by nirejseki (Not rated, 25k, NMJ/WWX/LWJ, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, WWX is very thirsty, and not straight at all, same for LWJ, WIP)

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