#what a glow down i hate the station now

[sc0tters]

Wanna Bet | Quinn Hughes

summary: when Quinn tries to put you in your place it lands him in your sheets.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, oral (fem receiving!), p in v, swearing, choking.

word count: 2.51k

authors note: okay I liked this smut like way more than the Luke one from this morning. Quinn with enemies to lovers is something I don’t remember writing before but this was fun so we are gonna allow it.

Seeing Quinn always felt weird to you.

Since the moment you joined the Canucks you two just didn’t seem to get on, the constant bickering was enough to make anyone want to avoid you both. So eventually you both just accepted the fact that you were destined to be colleagues who tolerated each other. It was a silent yet assumed to be mutual agreement.

Yet it seemed that Quinn felt like testing that agreement as you were walking to your car as you were only meant to be working during the first groups practice session. Quinn had been apart of it and with what felt like the worst practice of his life especially after getting the C when you started asking him questions about his performance it only felt like a twist of the knife.

Quinn swore he was seeing red as he was hot on your tail “what the hell was that today y/n?” He spat as the door to the rink shut behind him.

You two were the only ones in the parking lot as you sighed “Quinn I did my job-” you spun around to explain it to him when you realised just how close he was to you.

The hockey player sent you a glare “your job is not to make me look like an idiot.” He pointed out crossing his arms that tightened as he was still in his compression shirt due to the rush he was in to get to you “don’t need to do that when you seem to do it all by yourself.” You flashed him a sarcastic smile as you turned back to your car where your face quickly dropped to a frown.

Quinn furrowed his eyes seeing that you had stopped “you forgotten how to walk to your car or something now?” The boy smirked “forgot to plug my car in.” You pointed out as you walked over to the plug your car into its charging station.

He couldn’t help but laugh “c’mon,” the hockey player motioned to you to follow him “you think I’m going home with you then you’ve got another thing coming Hughes.” Your eyes formed a glare as he walked over to you “princess I hate to be the one to tell you that it’s starting to rain so without me you’re shit out of luck right now.” Quinn’s harsh words made you look up at the sky to see the grey clouds that loomed over Vancouver.

Against your better judgement you nodded “where is your car?” You asked avoiding his smirk not wanting to see him win.

The drive back to your place had been awkward to put it lightly “you know you interviewing me like that was fucked up.” Quinn spoke as you stared at the traffic lights that illuminated a red glow in front of you “Quinn if you can’t handle the truth from me then maybe you need a reality check.” Your words were honest as you pointed your finger at him.

It made the boy scowl “I’m starting to see why Tito turned you down.” The Hughes boy mumbled as he started driving again “what happened between him and I is none of you business!” You groaned as you had helped the Canadian settle into the team when he got traded, and one night he ended up in your bed. The same thing happened twice more before you both agreed to simply be friends.

Quinn took your irritated state as an encouragement to go on “that must have been a bad night for him.” The boy continued driving on as the light changed to green “please I was a great fuck!” You blurted out no longer caring about your desire to have a filter “if anything I feel sorry for the girls that you sleep with.” Your words made the boy tense up as he turned to your apartment building “in fact I don’t think you could even make a girl come.” If you knew the response your words would get then maybe you wouldn’t have said it.

His knuckles turned white against the steering wheel as he gripped at it “don’t think you’re ready to eat your words.” Quinn confessed as you leaned against the centre console “I think you’re not ready to see that I’m right.” The car almost crashed as the boy kissed your lips.

It was strong as he brought his hand behind your head making sure that you couldn’t pull away “where do I park princess?” The boy asked as a hoot car from the car behind his “just up here.” Your cheeks turned pink as you could still feel his lips against yours.

He slipped his arm through your bags strap as he smiled watching you direct him to the elevator “who would have thought that the way to get you quiet is just by kissing ya?” Quinn cocked his head as your back was pressed against the elevator wall after you pressed the floor number “shut up,” you grumbled placing your hands on his cheeks as you pulled him into a kiss. His tongue danced over your lip as you moaned letting him slide it into your mouth “sorry,” a voice came from the doors as someone let out an awkward cough. You sent the guy a smile as Quinn pulled away from you. Thankfully you only had to stand there for a mere few minutes before you two got to your floor.

Your apartment door called your name as you dug into your purse to grab your keys when Quinn’s hands went to your waist “Quinn behave.” You pleaded as you felt his head drop to your neck “have I ever told you how much I love this skirt?” Quinn asked letting his lips nip at your neck as his fingers trailed over the shirt skirt “n-no,” you shook your head as you finally got the door open.

The two of you barely got into the apartment before he spun you around “want to see me make you come?” The hockey player smirked as he pushed your body against your door shutting it behind you “don’t think you could.” You tried to remain calm.

Quinn let his lips hover over yours “was gonna take you to your bed.” He confessed as he clicked his tongue “but now I’m going to make you come right here.” Your eyes went wide watching him drop to his knees “like to see you t-try.” Your palms grew sweaty as the hockey player pulled your skirt up revealing your white panties.

He let out a whistle hooking his fingers in either side of your panties “think you knew that you were gonna get fucked tonight.” Quinn pointed out as he let your panties slide down your legs “told Tito to come o-” your words were cut off as Quinn lay his tongue flat against your slit licking a straight line before he practically pecked your clit “not so talkative now are you?” The hockey player smirked setting his tongue back on your clit as he let his two fingers thrust into your cunt.

Your hand slapped over your mouth as the boy comfortably found himself between your legs “let me hear you princess.” Quinn’s words sent shivers up your spine as you looked down to nod.

If you didn’t know any better you would have sworn that he was a starved man as he let his tongue work on you like you were his last meal “shit Quinn.” You groaned forcing your hips further into his face as your head pushed against the wood of your door.

Quinn left his pants grow tight at the sheer squelching noise that left your core as his fingers formed his scissoring motion as they thrusted deeper into you “you want to come princess?” He asked using his free thumb to rub against your clit “c’mon I know you want to just let it go.” With that the hockey player brought his lips back to your clit finally setting you over the edge “don’t stop.” You cried out as your fingers locked into his hair as you rode his face feeling him smile beneath you.

The hockey player pulled his fingers out from your core watching how they shone begin covered in your juices “taste how sweet you are princess.” Quinn ordered bringing himself back up to his feet as he tapped his fingers on your lips “pretty good for a guy that can’t make you come huh?” The boy smirked as your tongue swirled around his fingers like it was his cock in your mouth.

When you moaned it made him realise that his pants could no longer take simply watching you “where is your bedroom?” Quinn asked furrowing his eyebrows as he picked your panties off of the ground shoving them into his sweatpants pocket “you can get those back if you are good in bed.” The boy reminded you about the claim that you had yet to make good on.

You giggled beginning your walk to your room as you slowly began to shed your clothing starting with the Canucks polo that you were sporting revealing your black bra “you’re playing a dangerous game princess.” Quinn warned as you sent him an innocent grin “what are you going to do about that?” You clicked your tongue as you slipped behind your bedroom door pulling the skirt off of your legs as you were left in nothing but your bra when he came into the room.

Quinn took in the sight of your gorgeous body as he smiled eyes meeting yours “isn’t fair that you’re in so little is it now?” His voice was soft as your fingers danced over his compression shirt “leaves little to the imagination.” You pointed out shaking your head “knew you liked looking at me in this.” The hockey player lightly pushed you onto your bed as he pulled his shirt over his shoulders revealing his abs that made your mouth water “like what you see?” Quinn teased as he repeated the same action with his sweatpants leaving himself in his boxers.

Your eyes were practically glued to the bulge i that was barely hidden by the material “think you do too.” You teased as you watched him grab a condom from his wallet before he came down onto your bed with you “you’re taking your time cap.” You pointed out as you smirked seeing his expression harden.

What you didn’t expect was that he would flip you over causing your face to land in the fluffy blanket that sat on your bed “fuck princess I wanted to fuck you good but I guess I’m gonna have to fuck you like the brat you are.” Quinn grunted reaching down to break the clip in your bra letting your breasts hang free.

A whimper left your lips as you heard the sound of the condom wrapper ripping behind you “please Quinn.” You begged waiting to feel him against you.

Quinn smirked “you know that you aren’t calling me that anymore.” Before the hockey player gave you a chance to respond his cock was running over your clit before he let it thrust into your cunt.

Your hands could barely keep your body up as you adjusted to his size “Jesus cap!” You groaned letting your head drop into the mattress.

His hands grabbed at your hips bringing your body back to meet each of his thrusts “god princess you’re so right.” Quinn let out a grunt as he watched how your cunt repeatedly swallowed his cock as he made sure to bottom you out.

All you could do was nod as your hands grabbed at the comforter beneath you “shit Quinn.” You moaned as you began grinding your hips against him when the boy brought his hand down to slap your ass.

The gesture made you jump “you know that’s not what you’re calling me tonight.” The boy mumbled increasing the pace of his thrusts “you got a captains kink huh cap?” You asked letting your head turn to look at him as you smirked “get all hot thinking about me-” you were cut off as a moan left your lips “calling you cap when you fuck me?” You got your words out before he slapped your ass again.

Quinn felt his breath waiver as you clenched around his cock “should be finding a way to get you to keep quiet before you start running that fucking mouth.” With one movement he leaned down picking your body up “guess I’ve got to take matters into my own hands.” His words vibrated in the shell of your ear as his hand wrapped around your throat bringing you flushed against his torso.

The angle caused the boys cock to slide deeper into your cunt and that combined with the decreasing blood flow to your brain meant that you were overwhelmed with pleasure “fuck cap.” You cried bringing your hand down to rub at your clit as your head lay against his shoulder.

He took it as encouragement to go faster as your pussy began clenching around his cock more frequently “I’m gonna come,” you announced not seeing him shake his head “fucking beg for it.”

His order rang through your ears as you forced your eyes open “please let me come cap, I need you.” You pleaded almost having tears from in your eyes as you feared him saying no.

Quinn felt his cock throb “I’ll be your good little girl.” You added making him laugh “think you are already that baby.” The hockey player pointed out as he pressed a kiss to your temple “got you right where I want you right now and you can’t do shit about it.” His reminder made your cunt clamp down on his cock.

The boys hand squeezed around your throat “let me hear you go.” He smiled as you let out a min forcing your fingers to go even faster on your clit.

Your orgasm caused your body to shake against him “fuck fuck fuck!’ You cried not realising that your actions spurred on his own orgasm “so good princess.” Quinn cooed as he coated the inside of the condom with his come.

As his hand released your throat your body came down onto your bed as you let out a large breath “was I too rough?” He asked letting his cock slide out of your soaked cunt.

Quinn lay next to you as he watched you look up to him with a smile “not that was hot.” You blurted out leaning up to grab a hoodie off of your floor “where do you think you’re going?” The hockey player furrowed his eyebrows.

You turned to him with a smirk “I’ve got to go pick up my car.” You explained as to your surprise he shook his head reaching out for your hands as he pulled you back onto your bed “we aren’t done just yet.” Quinn mumbled cupping your face in his hands as he kissed you.

Clearly you were in for a long afternoon.

[danikamariewrites]

Taken (part 1)

Cassian x f!reader

A/n: I realized I haven't written much for Cass so I decided he gets a two-parter

You can read part 2 here

Warnings: angst, kidnapping, violence, Beron Vanserra being a dick

The room had gone silent, there was a slight ringing in Cassian's ears. Someone had taken you. Someone had taken you from your home. And he wasn’t there to protect you or stop it or kill the person who dared touch you. You’re his mate, and he failed at the one job he had, protecting you.

“Cassian,” Rhys spoke softly, noticing Cassian's hands were curled into fists at his sides. The red siphons strapped to the back of his hands were glowing as his rage simmered. “We will get her back. Whatever it takes. Azriel should be back soon, he said he has a lead.”

He knew what you would say to him if you were here right now. ‘Don’t worry Cass I’m fine. I can handle myself.’ He knew you could. He had been training you since the mating bond snapped. But you didn’t grow up like him. Training every day, honing your body into a weapon.

You grew up studying history, learning languages, and everything about the courts of Prythian. Your mind was strong. You were witty and the smartest person he’d ever met.

Cassian always joked that he was the brawn to your brains and that’s why the cauldron had mated you. But smarts didn’t always get you out of a sticky situation.

Azriel burst through the door, Feyre and Mor on his heels. Cassian turns to face his brother, his rage nearly boiling under his skin. “Who. Took. Her.” He demanded through gritted teeth.

Azriel took a cautious step forward, putting on the mask of Spymaster, attempting to remove his personal feelings from the situation. “Y/n put up one hell of a fight. The house was a mess but I was able to recover this,” Azriel holds out an armored shoulder plate in his scarred hand. “She knew to leave a clue, Cassian. We’re going to find her.”

Cassian took the armor from his brother, examining it. It was bronze, with the insignia of Berons personal hit squad carved on the curve of the metal. Rhys rounds the corner of his desk to examine it.

“Get Nesta and the Valkyries ready, you two get ready as well,” he says to his mate and Mor. “We need to form a plan,” Rhys commands. “No!” Cassian's booming voice echoes around the office. His family pauses, waiting for him to explode.

He shoves the armor into Rhys’ chest. “I’m not fucking waiting for you. I’m going ahead. I’ll see what we’re dealing with.” He stomps towards the door, Azriel stepping in his way. “Cassian, you know how bad of an idea that is.” Cassian growls at his brother but Azriel doesn’t back down.

“I hate to do this Cass,” Rhys starts, Cassian’s back stays turned to him, “but Az is right. As your High Lord, I am ordering you to wait until we are prepared to leave.”

———

You heard a door open and shut echo across the cavernous dungeon, and a male's angry voice muffled by whispers. You didn't dare open your eyes out of fear the guard stationed at your cell door would announce it. So you lay on the floor, pretending to be unconscious.

It was better to catch people off guard when you could, Cassian taught you that. Cassian! Judging by the small amount of sunlight coming in through the tiny window in the cell, it was late and he had to know you were missing by now.

You had tried to reach out to him through the bond a few times but it was no use. Your abductors had used a lot of Fae Bane to subdue you, and the wards around the Forest House were strong. Beron was a very paranoid person and left nothing to chance.

The male's heavy footsteps approach, accompanied by two other pairs. You tried not to let the scent of your fear be known. “Open the door.” You know that voice. Beron had come to see you himself. Something had to be going on if he was desperate enough to have you kidnapped.

He entered the cell, crouching over you. He grabbed your face, squeezing hard. Your eyes fly open, anger overtakes your features as you struggle to get away. He pulls you into a standing position as he looks down at you. “Now, now y/n. You should know better than to struggle.” you stop, your breathing heavy. You weren't an idiot. You wanted to live long enough to attempt an escape, so you'd obey for now.

Beron roughly pushes your face, letting go. Never breaking eye contact you growl out, “What do you want?” He backhands you across your face so hard you fall, hitting the stone floor. Recovering quickly you scramble away from the High Lord of Autumn clutching at your face. You could feel a large bruise forming.

He stands scowling at you, “It's too early to be taking that tone with me y/n. But I will sate your curiosity.” you push into the damp stone wall, hoping you'd fall through it and escape.

“You are Rhysands go-to for translating languages and whatnot.” ok, so he knew your job title. Big deal. “I've come across something rather rare, my people have looked at it but the incompetent fools failed at translating it. You will translate it for me.” He stares down at you expectantly.

It's clear the other High Lords didn't know about Beron's little find, but you had to make sure. “I take it the other High Lords are unaware of this.” He huffs out a laugh. “No, and it will stay that way. You do serve another purpose being here though.” you tilt your head giving him a curious look.

“Your little inner circle is keeping secrets. I didn't think Rhysand would be so careless but alas, I found this in my idiotic son's study.” Beron takes a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket holding it out to you. You lean forward slightly to make out the message.

Shit. That was one of the first letters between Rhys and Eris after Hybern. Shit, shit, shit. And Beron knows they’ll show up for you. It's not a secret you and Cassian are mates. Shit. This is a trap. And you're the bait.

The panic showed on your face as Beron smirked at you, knowing he won. He turns to leave, saying, “I'll send guards for you when I'm ready.” The cell door slammed shut and the guard went back to his watch position as Beron and the other two walked away. He was going to leave you here all night. Just to emphasize how powerless you were in this whole situation.

———

By the time the plan was set and everyone was armed to the teeth Cassian was fuming. Too much time had passed for his liking. He was going out of his mind, thinking of all the negative what-ifs. And he couldn't feel you down the bond.

He had reached out a million times and nothing. It was still there but that wasn't enough for Cassian. If he kept thinking about it he was going to be sick.

Rhys’ voice broke him from his thoughts, “You know what your assignments are. We have no room for error. And remember, this could very well be a trap we're walking into. So stay alert.” Everyone nodded.

The plan was that Azriel would winnow in first, then send the all-clear to Rhys for Feyre and Nesta, then Mor and Emerie. And he and Rhys last. They would sneak into the Forest House from four different spots. Nesta and Emerie would take out guards where they could. Mor, Feyre, and Rhys would keep trouble off their backs and find Eris. And He and Azriel would head for the dungeons to get you out.

Rhys grabbed Cassian's arm. The world fell away, darkness consumed his sight, and then the forest of Autumn bathed in moonlight was around him. The air smelled crisp and earthy.

He took a deep breath and followed his brother toward the Forest House.

———

You couldn't sleep. You tried different spots on the floor but your anxiety kept your heart pounding at the thought of Beron coming back for you.

You were sitting against the wall, knees pulled into your chest. The guard had yelled at you an hour ago for fidgeting too much, so you've been sitting in this position since. You didn't want to see what he would do if you moved around again.

You began absent-mindedly running your fingers against the stone wall. On your second pass over a certain spot, your finger caught slightly. You ran your finger over the spot again. And traced the crack in the wall up and over.

Laying your palm over the space you felt a slight breeze. This wasn't just a crack in the stone, it was a door to a secret passage. At that moment something in your brain clicked. You've studied every High Lord in Prythian, even the layouts of their houses.

You knew exactly where this passage led. The guard was your only problem. You could do this. Cassian taught you how to sneak up on people. You just had to stay calm.

You moved into a crouching position and slowly made your way over to the bars. His quarterstaff was held lax at his side. You stuck a hand through the bars grabbing the staff. Before he knew what was happening you brought the staff up to his throat. Grabbing the other end you pulled him against the bars, choking him until he passed out. You let him down slowly, so his body didn't make noise.

You push and push against the secret door. After a few minutes, it finally gives in. You start crawling in the dark and dusty passageway. It clearly hadn't been used in centuries.

You didn't want to get ahead of yourself, but this escape route was looking promising.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[sailor-aviator]

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Nine

Meet Me at the Sea: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Your best friend, Bob Floyd, had insisted you join him for the summer at his family's home along the Carolina coasts. You had been hesitant at first, but ultimately agreed to his request. Now, here you were in a new town with strange locals who spoke in hushed whispers and cryptic retellings about glistening scales, glowing eyes, and haunting songs that echoed from the sea. You didn't believe them at first, but when you wake up on the beach one morning after having fallen overboard the night before, you can't help but think that maybe you hadn't imagine the strong arms and deep, green eyes of the man that had saved you.

Trigger warnings: Language, Angst, Talk of death, Talk of losing a loved one, Mentions of drinking, Talk of Magic, Character Deaths, Graphic description of a dead body. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything.

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: This...was a doozy lol Also, if you DO NOT fill out the form below (Tag List) then you will not be tagged! I will be referring to that Google form from now on! As always, reblogs, comments and likes are greatly appreciated! Asks/requests are always open! 18+ ONLY!! You can find me on AO3 under sailor_aviator where I also post my updates!

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

The restaurant wasn’t as crowded as the other night, and you supposed that was due to the fact that it was the middle of the week. Penny was stationed behind the bar, cleaning out the glasses in between drink orders. You were cushioned between Jake and Natasha at the round table, picking at the fries left on Jake’s plate as he looked at you fondly. His arm rested on the back of the booth behind you, his fingers playing with the ends of your hair as you joked with the group.

“And then Bob over here decided that it would be a good idea to climb on top of this guy’s roof!” You grinned, earning a groan from the man in question.

“I hate this damn story,” he pouted, leaning back and running a hand over his face as the others peered over at him.

“Sweet, innocent Bobby climbed on top of some guy’s roof?” Bradley asked, leaning forward to look down the table at the blushing man.

“It wasn’t that big a deal,” Bob grumbled.

“That was the drunkest I’ve ever seen him,” you told the group. “He kept saying something about being able to fly and something else about the cannonball to end all cannonballs, but I was just so focused on getting him down that I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“Oh yeah?” Bob smirked, giving you a devious look that made the smile drop from your face. “And what about the time I had to haul your ass back to your apartment because you almost went skinny dipping with the sharks?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” he grinned, leaning towards you. “You were crying your eyes out for twenty minutes because you thought we were hurting their feelings by going home.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as the group broke out into fits of giggles, scowling at your best friend and his smug expression. You felt Jake shift next to you, placing a soft kiss to your temple before leaning back.

“Don’t worry, Angelfish,” he winked as you looked at him. “I’m sure you didn’t hurt their feelings.”

“I’m sure they were more upset they didn’t get an easy meal,” Bradley joked. “Although, they say that humans taste like plastic.”

“They?” You questioned. “You mean the sharks?”

Bradley nodded. “Yeah, I asked them once. Said that humans taste icky.”

“I’m sorry,” you blinked, “are you trying to tell me that you can talk to sharks?”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking,” Javy amended, casting a pointed look at Bradley who shrugged. “It’s more like, we can sense the intentions.”

“Like telepathy?” You asked.

“Sort of,” Reuben nodded. “It’s kind of hard to explain. It has a lot to do with the magic.”

“Huh,” you murmured thoughtfully, glancing at Bradley. “And they told you that people taste…icky?”

“That was the general vibe, yeah,” he shrugged. “I asked them one day after I ran into a group of them and they kept avoiding me.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just because it was you?” Nat asked with a raise of her eyebrow. “Maybe it’s just you who tastes icky.”

The rest of you burst into a fit of laughter as Bradley scowled, the noise dying down as a figure approached your table.

“Hey guys,” Cole grinned as he stopped in front of the table.

“Hey, Cole!” Mickey greeted, “what brings you by?”

“Did you wanna join us?” Reuben offered, Mickey and Javy already scootching in to make room on either side of the booth. Cole shook his head, raising his hand to stop them.

“Nah, don’t worry about it,” he smiled, eyes darting to you. “I was just coming by to pick up some lunch for me and my aunt when I saw you guys, and I figured I’d say hi.”

“Saw you chatting up some of the girls at the dance the other night,” Bradley said with a wolfish grin. “See anybody that caught your eye?”

“Maybe,” Cole smirked, looking at him. “Did you guys have a good time?”

“I thought all the costumes were really amazing,” you hummed, “but I didn’t get to see much of it, unfortunately.”

“That’s a shame,” Cole murmured with a frown. “Well, hopefully you’ll get to see more of the next one here in a couple of weeks.”

“What’s that?” You asked.

“The Moonlight Masquerade,” Bob supplied with a roll of his eyes. “It’s another costume party. Everybody gathers downtown to check out the local vendors, but the actual dancing is at city hall.”

“A perfect excuse to take you dress shopping again,” Natasha grinned as you wrinkled your nose.

“Are you going to let me pay for my own dress this time?” You asked, earning a short laugh from the brunette.

“Nope!” She grinned, popping the “P.” You rolled your eyes but smiled fondly at her, turning your attention back to Cole.

“I don’t suppose your aunt will have more jewelry for me to wear?” You questioned, fingers curled around the pendant holding the black pearl that hung around your neck. You felt Jake press closer into your side, his arm moving down to encase you as Cole gave you a smirk.

“I’m sure she will.” he hummed, eyes shifting to look behind you at Jake with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. “She just got a new shipment of masks in that we’re working on putting out today. Stop by soon before they’re all gone. I’ll even give you the friends and family discount.”

“That sounds great!” You chirped, turning to give Nat an excited look. She flashed you a quick smile in return, eyes quickly looking back up at Cole in curiosity.

“I didn’t know you had that discount,” she murmured, arching a brow. Cole shrugged good-naturedly.

“We don’t, but what my aunt doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“We’ll be sure to stop by soon,” you assured him.

“It was good to see you all,” he smiled, giving a small wave before turning to collect his food from Penny. You all waved at him as he exited, turning back to your conversation.

“He’s always so nice,” you commented, earning a disgruntled hum from beside you.

“Maybe a little too nice,” Jake muttered with a frown. You raised an eyebrow at him in amusement.

“Are you jealous, crooner?” You teased, fighting the smile that threatened to overtake you. Jake scoffed, pressing his lips into a thin line as he looked at you.

“You gonna go and run off with him?”

You pretended to think about it, earning a less than amused look from the blond man sitting next to you. Finally, you shook your head, shooting him a wink. “Nah, I’ve already got great company right here.”

Jake let out a please hum this time, leaning in to place a gentle kiss to your temple, earning a gag from across the table.

“You two are gross,” Bradley frowned, wrinkling his nose at the two of you. “Let’s go before I lose my lunch.”

You sat on the blanket that did little to shield you from the sand underneath, the sun casting a golden glow over the beach as it crept towards the horizon. It was just you on the blanket, the others running around with a football in some game they had made up years ago. You grinned as you watched them, laughing when Jake’s team scored and he yelled out in victory, the whoops and hollers from his teammates joining him. You reached for a bottle of water when you noticed Bradley trotting towards you, his skin slick with sweat as he collapsed beside you. Wordlessly, you handed him the water, turning your attention back towards the game as he took a long sip, catching his breath as he did so.

“Having fun?” He grinned up at you, his sunglasses obscuring his eyes.

“Oh, most definitely,” you grinned down at him, wiggling your eyebrows. He barked out a laugh as he laid down, resting his hands on his stomach. You turned your attention back to the game as the two of you sat in silence for a few moments.

“How are you feeling about everything?” He asked, turning his head to look at you.

“About what?” You countered, arching a brow.

“You know,” he prodded, propping himself up on an elbow to get a better look at you. “The true mate stuff.”

“Oh,” you breathed, glancing back at where the others were still heavily engrossed in their game. “I’m okay with it.”

“Oh yeah?” Bradley challenged, sitting up fully now. “Somehow I don’t think you’ve really thought about it like you should.”

“And you’re suddenly an expert?” You huffed, earning a half-hearted shrug.

“It’s serious shit, Skipper. None of us want to see either of you get hurt. True mates is nothing to shrug off.”

“Look,” you sighed, “I get that it’s a big deal, okay? But why do you care so much? How could we possibly get hurt?”

Bradley was quiet for a moment, a frown tugging on his lips as he stared off into the ocean. You were about to say something when he broke the silence.

“Did you know that the house Jake and I live in used to belong to my mom and dad?”

That grabbed your attention. You had met everyone else’s parents over the course of the past few weeks, but you had yet to meet Bradley’s. The more you thought about it, the more you realized that you couldn’t recall a time when he had talked about them either.

“I didn’t know that,” you said carefully, eyeing him wearily. He gave you a tight-lipped smile before continuing.

“Yeah, it’s the house I grew up in. My dad was a sea person, you know? He, Mav, and Ice used to be best friends growing up, and he actually grew up in the house himself. He and my mom knew each other since they were babies.”

“Were they true mates?” You asked him, bringing your knees up to your chin as you listened to him.

“They were,” he nodded, and there was a profound sense of sadness rolling off of him as he spoke. “My dad used to say that he knew she was his even before he knew he was a sea person. Said everyone around them knew they were in love before they knew what that meant.”

“That sounds like a fairytale,” you murmured, and Bradley let out a humorless chuckle.

“It was, I guess. My mom was the happiest person you’d ever meet, actually,” he rasped, a sad smile tugging at the edge of his lips at whatever memories played through his head. “She always had a smile and joke for someone, and my dad always called her ‘sunshine.’ He was a great guy too, you know. He’d always help out when he could, and I remember that he was really funny.”

“Oh, Bradley,” you whispered, tears kissing at your lashes. “Can I ask what happened?”

He was quiet for another moment.

“It was a hurricane,” he breathed, emotion thick in his voice. “I was fifteen at the time, and I remember Mav and Ice coming by the house to ask for his help down at the marina. My mom told him not to go, that she had a bad feeling, but my dad could never say no when someone needed his help.”

He took a shuddering breath, a hand coming up to wipe at his eyes, pushing his sunglasses up against his forehead before taking them off and letting them drop down onto the sand.

“I stayed up with my mom that night, sitting with her as she sat on the couch, just waiting for him to come home. But then, she got up and just started pacing, clawing at her throat like she couldn’t breathe, and I tried to get her to calm down, I really did,” he sniffed, and for a moment, he was transformed back into the fifteen year old boy he was when this happened. You reached out a hand, placing it gently on one of his as he continued on. “And then she just stopped, and it was like a light went out in her eyes. Then she let out this scream. I’ll never forget the sound of it, Skipper. Not for as long as I live. It was like someone reached inside her chest and ripped her heart out. It wasn’t until Ice and Mav showed up on our doorstep that I found out what happened.”

He looked at you then, a haunted look in his honey-colored eyes.

“Turns out,” he muttered, “that my dad had been trying to help some fishermen make it to shore, but the current got away from all of them. The boat smashed up against the rocks, pinning my dad and crushing him, and because of their bond, my mom felt every second of it. She felt it when he-”

He cut himself off, pressing his lips firmly together as if afraid to speak the word aloud. You squeezed his hand gently.

“When did your mom pass?” You asked quietly. Bradley stared at you for a second before letting out a bitter sounding laugh.

“She’s not dead, Skipper,” he murmured, causing you to blink in shock.

“What?”

“No, she’s very much alive,” he sighed, drawing patterns in the sand by his feet. “But she’s never been the same, and she might as well have died for how little she’s been present since it happened.”

You balked at the bitterness in his voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he spat, “that when my dad died, the part of her that made her her did too. She hasn’t been able to utter a single word since it happened, and from that day, I was on my own. I took care of her for years because she was just this empty shell. She didn’t laugh, or smile, or love anymore. Then my grandparents, her parents, made plans to move to Florida, and they made the arrangements to take her with them. I got to keep the house and everything and invited Jake to move in with me because I couldn’t stand the thought of being there by myself. I wouldn’t.”

You didn’t even notice that you had started crying until Bradley looked up at you, grimacing as he reached up to wipe your tears away.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Skipper,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, honest. I just wanted you to know what you were getting yourself into. I want you to think about what you’re risking if you agree to all of this.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “and I appreciate you telling me all that, Bradley, I do.”

Bradley nodded silently, and you reached over to wrap him up in a hug, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” you told him. “It sounds like they really loved each other.”

He gave you a short squeeze back. “They did.”

The sound of your friends growing closer had you shifting your focus forward just as Jake dropped down at your other side, pulling you close to place a smacking kiss to your forehead.

“Gross!” You giggled, pushing him away. “You’re all sweaty, get away from me!”

He feigned hurt as his green eyes twinkled with mischief. He reached out for you, pulling you closer and rubbing his forehead against your shoulder.

“Ah, but Angelfish,” he smirked, “I thought you’d miss me!”

“Not when you’re gross!” You shrieked, trying in vain to pull away from him. He let out a laugh as you made a disgusted face at him, the two of you dissolving into a mess of giggles.

“Is he fucking giggling?” Mickey asked Nat, giving Jake an incredulous look. “Since when does golden boy giggle?”

“Since he fell in love!” Nat sing-songed in a teasing voice, laughing as Jake flipped both of them off. You chanced a glance at Bradley only to find that he was back to his usual happy self, not a trace of the sadness that had just surrounded him. You shifted your focus back to Jake who was looking at you quizzically.

“Everything alright, Angel?”

“Just peachy, Crooner,” you smiled, pecking his cheek. He chased after you as you pulled away, placing a firm, sweet kiss to your lips. You hummed happily against him, hearing a gagging sound from off to the side.

“You two are disgusting,” Javy remarked, rolling his eyes. You pulled away from Jake to give him a knowing look.

“You’re one to talk,” you told him, smirking. The others looked back and forth between the two of you as Nat shifted nervously.

“What are you talking about?” Reuben asked, earning a half hearted shrug from you.

“Oh, nothing,” you giggled, a saccharine smile on your face as you batted your eyes innocently. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

You walked alongside Bob down the cool sands of the beach towards his home, the last remnants of the sun fading below the horizon.

“What did you and Bradley talk about?” He asked you, glancing at you curiously. “Seemed pretty serious.”

You didn’t answer right away, unsure as to how much Bradley had actually told the others.

“He was telling me about his parents,” you decided on. You heard Bob suck in a breath as the two of you continued walking.

“He’s never told us the whole story, you know,” Bob murmured. “All we know is that his dad died one night and his mom was never the same after that. He missed some school because of it, too. We tried to get him to talk about it once, but he just brushed us off and acted like he was okay. Eventually, we stopped pushing him to.”

“I think it still really affects him,” you said quietly. “He told me the whole story. I guess he thought I needed to hear it in order to make an informed decision about what to do.”

“And what is it you want to do, Skip?” He asked, looking over at you now. You considered his words.

“I suppose,” you hummed, “that I’m not exactly sure yet. I have a lot to think about now.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, grimacing slightly. “That’s fair.”

“How are you feeling about all of this?” You asked him, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He rolled his eyes at you.

“You two are disgusting,” he scoffed. “Why don’t you two get a room?”

“We agreed to take it slow,” you shrugged, causing Bob to belt out a laugh as he almost tripped into the sand.

“You could have fooled all of us!” He snickered, earning a scowl from you. You punched his arm lightly, trying in vain to hold back your smile.

“You’re such a jerk sometimes,” you giggled. He swung an arm over your shoulder, pulling you close by your neck as you squawked in protest.

“Just gotta tell my best friend how it is,” he beamed. You went to respond, but let out a grunt as Bob stopped short, nearly making you trip over your own feet. The smile was gone from his face as he narrowed his eyes in confusion at something ahead of the two of you. You turned to try and see what he was looking at. Up ahead, a large lump lay amidst the sand, and the two of you pulled apart to make your way slowly up to the mysterious object.

The clouds rolled out from in front of the moon, illuminating the beach with the pale rays. Your heart stopped as the object became clear. It was a girl, that much was plain. She wore no clothing, and her skin was pale. Her torso was practically hallowed out, deep, angry claw marks etched into her bloated skin, her familiar blue eyes widened in a mixture of shock and fear. Her lips were still parted as if she had been killed mid-scream, a gaping hole in her neck that made the contents of your stomach churn.

Mandy.

Her brown hair still clung to her face from the water, and you heard Bob let out a curse beside you. That was when you heard the screaming, a panicked, high-pitched wailing echoing along the beach. Your eyes were still trained on the body in front of you, her limbs twisted in an unnatural fashion. Your hands gripped at Bob’s arm, and you felt him run a hand over your hair as the screaming continued. Shouts could be heard coming from the street, and you felt the fresh, hot tears cascading down your face as the voices grew closer. It wasn’t until Bob pulled you into his arms, cradling your head close to his chest that you realized that it was you who was screaming. Your screams died down, turning into violent sobs as you clung to Bob, unable to block out the image of Mandy lying there, even after you closed your eyes.

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[saintship]

14 " I dont hate you" with könig pretty please :33

Prompt #14 - “I don’t hate you.”

Whoopsie took forever cause I made it long B)

König x Reader - change

It wasn’t usual for the task force to travel by train; it was expensive, it was vulnerable, and the tracks left a clear trail behind them. It was the last choice, and only because of the snowstorm that had swept over the rendezvous so viciously it nearly downed their extraction helicopter. The windows of the safehouse shook, and their radios barely clung to the lines.

They began to trudge through when the wind calmed down a bit. The station was closed to civilians because of the conditions, but a flash of identification tended to get Price beyond most closed doors in the world.

The empty train cars were eerie, but the extra space was a rare convenience, giving plenty of space to store equipment, treat injuries, and even lay down.

“They cleared out the booze!” Soap complained over his shoulder from the dining car, his loud rummaging making Price sigh.

“I’m happy I’m not sleeping on cobwebs, mate.” Gaz leaned against where he’d propped up his backpack, tilting his hat over his eyes. You sat across the aisle from Gaz, smiling at the interaction before a booming voice interrupted the moment.

“You can sleep?” His voice preceded him.

“We get it, König!” Gaz grumbled from under his hat.

König leaned into the car, ducking his head to get through before settling across from you. His uniform was blood stained and muddy from fighting off several enemy soldiers bare-handed that day. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t let anyone forget about it.

“Did you see when I threw dieses schwein over my shoulder?” He demonstrated the move where he had tossed a man over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, his eyes shining under his mask.

For the rest of the task force, König was being a showoff, irritating, what have you. But you had a different problem entirely.

You almost wish you could feel annoyed; watching him handle himself that way just made the underlying feelings for him catch like a bright flame.

“es war Wahnsinn Sergeant!”

You nodded, trying not to imagine how bright his smile was at the moment, even if it was concealed. König laughed breathlessly before looking around. He noticed the others’ irritated faces, their wavering attention.

“I am sorry.. I should clean up, anyway, yes?” His laugh was a bit emptier this time as he rose to his feet. “I did not mean to bother you after such a mission, Sergeant.” He added softly.

You looked up at him, near panicking at his defeated eyes. “No, no, you’re not-"

“It’s alright.”

And then he was gone; looking more tired with each step out of the train car. You massaged your temple with your palm, cursing yourself. If you could just keep your feelings professional, König wouldn’t be sulking in the shower right now. Even though you knew his fears were misguided, you couldn’t help but watch the sliding door, silently begging for him to return with the smell of soap and aftershave trailing his path. You could always see when his damp hair was starting to soak through his face covering, no doubt irritating, but still he remained concealed.

You were frustrated at the team, but chewing them out would do nothing but irritate them more. You stripped off your vest, the cool rush of air soothing on your body as you made your way to the last car.

There, you had known, was a window that you could watch the passing tunnel through. The lights lining the concrete path glowed a soft orange, gentle compared to the fluorescent white that illuminated the inside of the train. You settled with your knees brought up to your chest, the cool glass soothing the ache in your temple as you rested against it. The faint roar of the tracks distracted you as your exhaustion finally settled to relax your muscles.

The car door opened.

You looked up to see what you’d been looking for, but more. He was in a sweater and fresh uniform pants, his boots, but what wasn’t covered surprised you.

His hands; scarred and fidgeting, exposed without his usual gloves. Your eyes traveled to drink in what he gave you; his neck, his eyes and forehead, his hair still damp from his shower. He wore a similar mask that Ghost did when they went drinking; a simple nose and mouth covering. It was the most you’d ever seen.

“I had to wash the.. I had to wash my hood..”

He didn’t want to say he couldn’t bear the smell of the blood and dirt so close to his face, or that standing here was making his heart race like he was still out there.

You nod. “You okay? You’re usually.. I don’t know, loud.” You smile, trying desperately to tell him that’s exactly the König you loved.

“I uh.. I may need to pull back on that. I’m no use if I’m—exhausting. You know?”

“You’re not exhausting.” You state, turning to sit properly and look up at him.

“You’re very kind, Sergeant, but I only want to be better for—for the team.”

You blinked, catching the pause in his deflection.

“For the team?”

“Yes.”

“It just sounded like you were going to say something else.”

It was only then you noticed his ears were practically glowing pink.

“I wasn’t.”

You shook your head quickly. “Regardless, you shouldn’t change yourself on a hunch. You’re bright, you’re energetic, and that’s amazing. It’s part of what makes you such a good Colonel; you don’t give in to that hopelessness that follows us everywhere..” you sigh. “I don’t want you to change.”

He shifted on his feet, blinking as his brow furrowed. You could almost tell what he was thinking when you could see his eyes clearly.

“I’m the highest rank on this train. I shouldn’t be acting this way.”

“Why not?”

“Because-" König huffed. “A Colonel that everybody hates is asking for mistakes. For injuries, for mistrust.”

“I don’t hate you.” You replied easily.

He sighed, palming his forehead with his other hand settling on his hip. You tried your hardest to not stare at the muscles of his arms that showed themselves even past the cozy fabric of his sweater.

“Verdammt.. my subordinates must respect me. If they don’t-"

“König, you are their superior. They will respect you or face the consequences, and that includes me. You could send me away right now and tell me to get out of your business, and I would listen, even if I don’t want to. You need to have respect for yourself.”

He nodded slowly, sighing. “I suppose I must,” he sat beside you. “respect myself. Before I ask for it.”

“I trust you.” You admit. He lay a hand on your shoulder, the warmth of his bare palm soothing in the cold train car. “I trust you too.” He replied quietly.

Soap had ended up scavenging around enough to produce a few bottles of champagne, to which you and König walked in on. Price shut down Soap’s inclination to shake the bottle, but did allow him to unstick the cork with his knife, the bubbles spilling slightly as he poured several glasses. You watched, smiling, as the young sergeants drank while Ghost and Price spoke quietly over their own glasses.

“You’re not having one?” König murmured. You shook your head. “I never know what I need to be sober for.”

He hummed, leaning back. “I’ll always join a friend in sobriety.”

“You are kind that way.” You reply softly.

He glanced at you. “Ja?”

You nod. “And today.. when you cleared that group..”

He eyes didn’t leave yours, the deep ochre seeming to shine at your words.

“I was hit pretty bad. You may have saved my life.”

“Instinct, Sergeant.” He retorted. “Anyone would have done it.”

“Anyone would have swept five men in under a minute with two hands and a baton?”

His ears were red again. “What’s important is that it’s taken care of now.”

Before you could reply, the last of the group was retiring for bed, nodding their goodnights and leaving you and König alone. You turned to him.

“Forgive me if I’m overstepping..”

He nodded.

“I’ve never seen your hair before tonight.. it’s nice. Matches your eyes.”

König absentmindedly lifted a hand to card through his dark brown hair, looking to the side. “Danke..”

You realized at that moment that you could smell his shampoo and felt a twinge dizzy from the warmth that lit up in your ribs.

“Thank you for what you said back there.” He spoke gently. “You feel.. refreshing.”

“Do I?” You smiled.

He laughed gently. “Well.. I’m not the most approachable.”

“Sounds like their problem to me.” You retorted. “Besides, just because you’re tall, and.. you know.. doesn’t mean you don’t deserve some comradery.”

“What was that in the middle?” Another laugh seeped through his words. “Tall and..?”

“And..” You shifted slightly, avoiding his eyes. “Muscular.. I suppose.”

“Suppose?”

“Shut up.” You complain.

He laughed properly now, his eyes shining adorably.

“My apologies..”

You huffed, but smiled as his laughter faded slowly.

“You have a nice laugh.”

He tilted his head. “Don’t think flattery will get you anywhere professionally, Sergeant..”

“Is it flattery if it’s true?”

“Oh, you..” Another laugh rumbled in his chest. “You are trouble.”

“How is that?”

“You’re making me have thoughts I shouldn’t.”

Suddenly, the clattering of the tracks was the only sound between the two of you. You blinked in surprise at his words, but your smile didn’t quite waver.

“I’m so sorry, that was completely-"

“What thoughts?”

He made a noise halfway between a laugh and a scoff, shifting in the booth you both sat in.

“Nothing, please, forget I said anything.”

“Why did you come and find me after walking off?”

“Sergeant.”

His voice was firm, and you knew to back down for the moment.

“What I’m thinking—what I’m feeling.. it is unprofessional.”

“I would think you hold enough respect for me to have my own opinion of what these feelings mean but if you will not tell me-"

“Do you truly want to know?”

“Yes!”

“Fine.” His hands came down on his legs in frustration as he leaned forward “I have had feelings for you for many weeks. I have known you for many years, I am not one to crack easily, but you’ve managed it. I care for you in a way that is not appropriate for a Colonel and Sergeant, and that is fact.”

“We are adults.” You insisted.

“We are military.” His voice was unwavering. “This cannot happen.”

“It can.”

“It cannot.”

“Not as long as you keep yourself wound up so tight! There is a way to be together in the way I know you want, you just need to trust me.”

“I trust you with my life!”

“So be in mine! Ignoring this will solve nothing!”

“I can’t risk your expulsion, Sergeant.” He sighed, his head in his hands. Your heart twisted at his stress, the muscles of his shoulders tense with worry.

“König..”

“I should go.”

“What? Have you been listening to me at all?”

“I can’t do this.” He rose to his feet, but you caught his elbow before he could walk out.

“You tell me you want this, and then you leave?”

“You asked.”

“You said yes!”

You stood toe to toe now, and you released his arm when he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“It’s not as if I don’t want you. It’s not.. it’s not as if.. what am I saying..” He squeezed his eyes shut, sighing again.

You slowly take one of his hands in yours; this hand that has snapped bones and pulled the triggers of firearms, this hand that is still so warm in yours.

“You really think this could work?” He wasn’t taunting, rather a light curiousness in his tone.

“Yes..”

He squeezed your hand, pulling you a big closer to hold you to his chest.

Your arms returned his embrace, cradling his back.

“I hope you know this won’t result in a promotion.”

You huff a laugh. “You’ve seen through my lies..”

“Is that so?” He murmured. You saw the smile in his eyes. He seemed to search your face for a moment, considering something.

“Close your eyes.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Surprise.”

“Oh, god..” You close your eyes, tilting your head.

“Don’t open them.”

His voice seemed clearer; it didn’t have a muffled tone as it usually did.

“I won’t..”

You felt the whisper of his breath on your cheek before he placed a kiss there, withdrawing slowly.

“König..”

“Open them..” He sounded apprehensive, strange coming from someone so brash, so unrelenting to the enemy.

For a moment, you shut your eyes tighter. “Are you sure?”

You felt his palms cradle your jaw. “Yes.”

Slowly, you lifted your eyes to look at him, this man that you had known for years and loved for months, the man who had saved your life more times than you had fingers to count on. Now, with his angled nose and parted lips, an almost imperceptible smattering of freckles below his eyes, the shadow of the absence of face razors while on mission.

“You’re beautiful, König..”

Your words almost fled from your lips without permission; the confession was simply a truth you’d barely had the strength to hold back until this moment.

He smiled. He smiled with a crooked lilt, and you were grateful he was partially holding you upright.

“So are you..”

You couldn’t help but step closer, glance back at his lips, his nose, his freckles.

“Permission to proceed, Colonel?” You practically breathed near his lips.

Rather than retort your poorly placed joke, he closed that breath of a distance for a kiss more gentle than you thought was possible. One of his hands ran a thumb along your cheekbone while the other pulled you closer by the small of your back, tracing lazy patterns there, too.

He separated only for breath, the fluorescent lights gleaming off the sheen of his parted lips.

You began to attempt a sentence, but he leaned in again, chasing the closeness he’d been aching for. His lips worked like flowing water, satiating, encouraging. You were stunned into near silence until you felt his tongue brush along your lower lip, at which a low hum rose from your throat. When you allowed the kiss to deepen, you felt the teeth of his smile before he graced you with venturing even further.

The room felt like it would spin wildly if you opened your eyes, and you clung to him like a life raft.

Your heart raced out of your ribs as you separated, panting like animals. His thumb wiped at your lip; he seemed almost fascinated by what he’d left.

“Price will.. come out soon..” Your voice was somehow hoarse as you made no move to separate. He hummed in agreement, glancing at the sliding door before looking back at you with a dazed expression. “You should get some sleep anyway..” He said softly. Before you could complain that you didn’t want to leave, he’d lifted you to rest against his chest as he headed for his sleeping car.

“König!” You clung to his shoulders. “Don’t drop me..”

“I will not drop you.” He rolled his eyes.

You made a small, disbelieving noise, but continued to rest on his chest, exhaustion starting to seep back into your muscles.

The sleeping car was cramped, especially for him, but he laid down without a fuss and held you with him, slipping off your shoes and socks for you and laying down an extra blanket when you shivered. He pulled the comforter over the both of you, smiling when you hugged his waist and shuffled closer.

“You’ll warm up..” He rubbed your back, assuring you. He looked down to ask something when he noticed your gentle breathing and relaxed hands that were previously clinging to his sweater.

“Rest well..”

[amoristt]

a/n: yaaay back with part 2 hehehe. im glad you guys r enjoying it so far! i have big plans for this series

- as always comments/reblogs are appreciated! - want to support me? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon "Ghost" Riley/Reader, Pt 2

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The hours that followed Ghost leaving you to your own were brutal. It took a few long moments to collect yourself, all tears and trembling hands, but eventually, your legs found the strength to haul your body up to your feet. Your mind replays the last couple minutes on loop tauntingly.

If Ghost hadn't caught you in time, you'd be nothing but a broken egg on the pavement below. Your brain tried to think about what it would have felt like if you had plummeted without haste, but your body reminded you angrily how it felt to hit the wall on your way down. Surely, deep bruises of purple and blue would climb like vines up the side of your frame. Your body would make sure to ache, to remind you of the damage you'd inflicted onto it.

Damaged, but alive.

It feels odd being alive, now. You really had made your choice, fully accepted the gravity of your life cut short. Perhaps it was cowardly. But, ultimately, you knew that it would have been the better outcome between death and eternal imprisonment.

Still, guilt eats away at you. The image of Ghost's eyes through his mask haunts you- that primal fear in those beautiful eyes engraved in the back of your brain. If he hadn't been as fast- if he'd hesitated for even a second, you'd have slipped right through his fingers. You'd have dropped all the way down to the unforgiving concrete and ceased to be right in front of him. It hurts you- the thought of him grieving you like that. Surely he would have hated you for it.

When night came (rather quickly), you took your chance to escape. Wherever point 'A' was, it wasn't so nearby you couldn't scurry down those five flights of stairs and dart into the darkness. You ran from bush to bush, building to building, and even through a knee-deep marsh. You were grateful that this October was warm, but you would be lying to say you appreciated the bugs. Mosquitos ate away at your skin despite your efforts to battle them away.

You'd only been a few miles away from base, so it wasn't long before you were skirting along the trees, staring at the mile-high electric fences surrounding the fort you'd become so familiar with. The base you and Ghost had been staying at was a nice one- with all the fixings and even single-person 'homes'. They were small, one-bedroom trailer-looking flats with all the basic necessities, but compared to the places you'd slept before they may have well as been your own little personal heaven. Warm water and an AC unit-they'd spoiled you and your fellow soldiers. You remember on your first night, cuddled up under the blankets on your very own bed, praying they'd keep you stationed here for the rest of your military days.

But, now, here you were, creeping along the greenery, feeling more foe than friend. From outside, you could see military vehicles parking for the night and soldiers standing guard. Sneaking up on your own base, your own friends, you really did feel like a spy. You linger outside, wondering what to do.

Then it hits you.

And you know exactly where to go.

You disappear back into the trees. It's barely another mile out, but with just the moon overheard to guide you, you struggle to find your way. You pass by trees and boulders of every size, before you enter a small clearing, and tucked all the way to the side is exactly what you were looking for. A dingy half-finished shed engulfed by the canopy of trees and shadows.

And god, there he is, standing there and waiting for you.

In this light, Ghost really does look like he could be a monster. His mask nearly glows. Half covered by murky shadows, dotted by the glowing streaks of the moon passing through the leaves overhead, he stands and waits for you. Like he knew you were coming.

And he was right. Because here you were.

You snap a twig on accident and his body visibly tenses as he searches for the source, but when his eyes find your figure in the darkness it only takes a second for him to realize it's you.

"Been a while since I've been here," you start. He moves to the side as you pass him. The door opens with a dull creak.

"I'm glad we both had the same idea." Ghost grunts.

"You're telling me. I had to ditch my phone and everything, so if you weren't here I'd have no way of contacting you. And y'know what, that's two phones in two months. Talk about bad luck." You sigh.

"Never did find you're old one, hm? Not good, soldier."

"Oh, I'm sure it's lost in the ocean or blown to bits by now."

Ghost scoffs. "Hope so. Get inside."

When you'd first been stationed at his base, boredom often ate away at you until it felt like you'd go crazy. Ghost had been off on his own mission, the few friends you did have at that time never left the base of their own volition. But you, on the other hand, craved exploration. So you found yourself wandering the perimeter around the base, thinking about nothing and everything. That's when you discovered the beat-up old shed. At that time it was nothing more than a caved-in roof, rain-soaked flooring, and a broken window. Over the course of a couple weeks, you began to work to fix it up, glad to have something to focus on during your between-missions time.

When Ghost had returned to base during Christmas, and he realized that you too had no home to return to for the holidays, he began to join you.

Over that Christmas, you both turned it into somewhere you could both go to talk and occasionally share a few drinks. That was when you'd truly bonded with him. That was when he'd finally started letting you in willingly.

Dirt flecks off the frame of the door as you step inside, and it's just as dusty as you remember. Two chairs sit in the center with patchy blankets serving as cushions. An uneven table sits between them, one leg broken half off but supported by water-logged books stacked atop each other.

The moon filters in through the cracked window and paints the brown walls a beautiful blue.

Ghost sits with a grunt, kicking his feet out and sighing. It invites you, calls you in to shut the door behind you and settle beside him. So, you do. The chair creaks underneath your weight and you breathe out the frustrations of the day, gone into the air. For the first time that day, your guard lowers.

You just... breathe.

"What a nightmare this is." You sigh.

Ghost shrugs. "No one knows what 't think. They know something's not right."

A pang of relief visibly flushes through you, cut short when he shakes his head.

"Don't get too excited." He says quietly.

"...And why's that?"

"Graves called in his shadows." Ghost taps his finger against the table, lingering, picking and choosing his next words while you feel anxiety start to bubble within you. When he speaks again, it's forlorn. "He isn't exactly pushing for 'em to bring you in alive."

The weight of your heart dropping could have burst straight through the chair you sat on. It settles into your gut like an awful stone. A dull, pained chuckle escapes you.

"I knew he didn't like me, but damn."

Ghost shakes his head. "He's panicking. Thinks you can tell us where the missiles are."

"Missiles?" You ask, eyebrows raised in concern.

It must have struck him then, that Ghost hadn't yet updated you on the situation arising off-air. And judging by the way he tenses and leans forward in his chair, it must be pretty grim.

"Hassan... He's got our missiles. Three of 'em." As Ghost speaks with newfound hesitation and urgency, you can feel your nerves lighting up with each syllable. "We can't find the damn things. They get out... 'Lot of people will die."

"Jesus Christ." You wipe your palms down your face, eyebrows knit together. "How the hell did he get our missiles?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out. 'Pparently there's some messages and photos of you chatting with one of Hassan's men. That you might know a thing or two on where to find 'em."

"I haven't talked to anyone that wasn't our own." You groan. "God, what the fuck. And pictures?"

"From what I heard. They haven't shown 'em to us. Refuse to, actually." Ghost leans back in his chair, eyeing you like he's holding something back. "Like I said, no one knows what to think."

You stare down at your lap. Though you already know the answer, you find yourself asking anyways, with an uneven voice.

"...You trust me, right...?"

"God's sake." He scoffs, and you regret asking at all.

"I just have to be sure. Pictures can be convincing-"

"Pictures none of us have even laid eyes on. You think I'd be here right now if I didn't believe you?"

Guilt eats away at you, eyes downcast. "I know. I'm sorry. I just... I can't wrap my head around why of all people it had to be me."

"We'll find out. Shepherd won't give us hardly any information, and anything he does give us is... vague." Ghost is choosy with his words. "...Shepherd found and turned the evidence in himself, supposedly."

You feel an actual strike of nausea pulse through you.

"There's no way Shepherd would frame me." Though you try to say it with an even tone, your voice exposes your lack of confidence in your General. You suck in a breath when there's no reply. "Ghost..?"

Ghost doesn't answer, but his eyes do flick to yours. A silent, cautious confirmation.

You swallow. Hard.

"But... But what good could come of this? I mean up until now I've been an exemplary soldier. Like, not to brag here, but I graduated at the fucking top of my squad and I damn well aced every test they threw at me."

"I know all this." Ghost chimes. "Everyone knows all of this. I don't know what the big plan is. I don't even know if there is a big plan. I just know something isn't right."

There's a pause, and his eyes soften.

"I know you wouldn't do this."

Tears well at the waterlines of your eyes and you struggle to hold them back. With the military against you, Shadow's snapping at your heels at every chance they could get, and now faced with the chance that your own fucking general would frame you, you're completely unsure of what to do next. Ghost leans over the table and sets a firm hand on your shoulder.

You bite your tears back, refusing to let him witness you cry again. Twice in one day was just too much on your already shattered ego.

"What do I do?" Your voice betrays you, uneven and breaking.

Ghost stands up and sighs. "You aren't doing anything. You're staying here."

"For real?" You frown up at him, pawing at your eyes angrily. The sight of him preparing to leave makes your stomach churn- the thought of being alone in this shed all night slinking into your mind. "I can't just sit here and do nothing-"

"That's exactly what you're gonna do. Get some rest, tonight." Ghost doesn't even give you the chance to argue, already pulling the door open. You gape at him from your chair with wet eyes. You see the way he lingers, see the way he considers stepping back inside, but his resolve remains firm. For just a brief moment, he turns to look at you from outside.

You sit on the chair, bringing your knees up to your chest. Sounds from all directions reach your waiting ears as you take a final glance at him.

"I'll be back in the morning." He offers. The door shuts, and darkness encases you.

Shrouded in pitch black, listening to the sound of his footsteps growing further and further away, you fear tears sting your eyes once more. All alone, you let them slip down your cheeks.

You'd never felt so alone.

[harringtown]

get the darkness to dance

requested by anonymous

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie has a nightmare & reader comforts him (aka some angst, some fluff, and a touch starved eddie getting the affection he Deserves)

word count: 2.4k

-

Eddie hasn’t slept through the night in two months. Technically, since he crawled back through the hole in his old trailer’s roof, covered in bite marks and on death’s door.

A transfusion or two, more stitches than he can count and a hefty rabies vaccine later, he was discharged from the hospital and taken straight to the police station in cuffs. If it weren’t for Jim Hopper, making his miraculous return from the dead, Eddie would be rotting in a cell by now.

He could have it worse. Max is still comatose at the hospital. Dozens upon dozens of Hawkins residents—who hated him, sure, and only partially for fake reasons—didn’t survive what was now being called the biggest earthquake of the century. Even if all those people hated him, no one deserved to die like that.

A little, or a lot, of insomnia and some healing wounds are nothing he can’t handle. He’s survived worse.

So, when he gets a call from you in the middle of the night during a vicious storm, and you tell him your power is out, your parents are in Indianapolis for the weekend, and ask to come over, he says yes. Because maybe another body in the house when he tries to sleep will trick his mind into it. Because, if he’s being honest, there are very few things in this world that make him feel better, and you’re one of them.

Because he’s tired, and in the months since he met you, he hasn’t been able to say no to you.

He’d never admit it, but in some ways, the end of the world is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It brought you crashing into his life, literally—when he put a gun to Steve Harrington’s chin in the boathouse, you tackled him into a wobbly kayak. That was that. Eddie Munson became every lovestruck stereotype he spent his life making fun of.

And sure, the Upside Down and all its chaos put him squarely at the top of Hawkins most wanted list and almost put him in a grave, but not everything can be perfect. Eddie knows that better than most.

This, though—you, stretched out on the pullout couch in the living room, head on a pillow from his bed—is pretty damn close to perfect. Eddie is trying very hard not to ruin it.

“Need any more blankets? The trailer may be new, but the heater is not—”

“For the fourth time,” you say, but you’re smiling, “I’m warm enough.”

Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. “If you’re bullshitting, it’s your frostbite.” He waggles his brows once. “However. It’d be a damn shame to come out and find you a pile of fingers and toes on my couch.”

“Plus, you’ve already got a record,” you say, and if it were anyone else, it would make him angry, but because it’s you, he just laughs. Because with most people, the jokes are jibes, and with you, they’re genuinely that. Jokes.

“Like they need any more excuses to drag my sorry ass back into that police station.”

You roll your eyes and drag your blanket bundle up over your chest, settling back into the couch.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but before he gets the chance, you interrupt him.

“And also for the fourth time, no, I’m not taking your bed, so don’t even ask.”

Eddie huffs and waves a hand.

“Screw me for being a gentleman, eh?”

“You wish,” you say, and Eddie snorts.

“Next time you call me in the middle of the night, begging for my company, I’m going to remember this.”

“I don’t know about begging—”

“Oh, it was begging,” he says.

“Ridiculous,” you say with a smile, and Eddie grins, too. He flips off the overhead light, and the small yellow lamp from the old trailer casts a warm yellow glow over the room.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, and turns for the hall.

“Eddie,” you say, and Eddie swears his heart does one of those cartoon flip-flops right inside his chest. He stops, turns to face you.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek for a beat before saying, gently, “Thank you.”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. He nods a few too many times.

“‘Course,” he says. “Anytime.” And he surprises himself by meaning it.

-

The dreams come in varying shades and flavors, some of which are so creative that Eddie is impressed by his own twisted subconscious. Most of them, he’s learned to see through. Nightmares, dreams altogether, have tells. Find a clock, and if he can’t read the numbers, he’s asleep. Look at his hands, and if he has too few or too many fingers, he’s dreaming. If his mother makes an appearance, it’s either a dream or he’s managed to squeeze his way to heaven. Which, unlikely, so: dream.

The one he still can’t see through is the one that’s still too close to reality. Eddie, bleeding out through more puncture wounds than he can count, watching his measly life roll behind his eyes, trying in vain to claw his way back to the world.

He can feel the broken earth beneath him and the claws dragging him back, and when he tries to scream, his throat is raw. He can’t make a noise, can’t save himself, can’t do anything but lie here as they tear him apart—

“Wake up, Munson.”

Hands on his shoulders, but not rough, not sharp. Steady.

“It’s a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

His eyes snap open and he jerks up, finding himself in his dark bedroom. You kneel on the edge of the mattress, hands still on his arms, though now your fingers are curled in the fabric of his sleeves. Your knuckles graze his biceps each time he heaves a breath.

An image flickers behind his eyelids; bright red lightning flashes and spindly wings and—

“Look at me, Eddie.” That sound, his name off your lips, winds the last thread of consciousness into place, he realizes where he is, what’s happening.

Eddie pushes back until he hits the wall, as far out of your grasp as possible. Like each inch will keep you safer from him and the powder keg that is his life. That is him.

He has heard it all, a thousand times, from a hundred different people.

Too loud. Too opinionated. Too distractable. Too distracting. Too much.

His father. Teachers. His grandparents. Everyone except his uncle, and after these last months, he’s sure even that is bound to break.

“Eddie—"

“Sorry,” he says. “I wake you up?” He cards a hand through his hair, and when his fingers get caught in the tangles, he wrenches for a moment before just giving up.

Your brows furrow. “Are you, like, going to pretend that didn’t just happen?”

Abso-fucking-lutely, and he’d appreciate it if you went along with that plan. He knows you won’t.

“And what happened, exactly?”

“You were screaming.”

Eddie’s stomach lurches.

“Fear isn’t the only thing that makes people scream, you know,” he says. “Surely someone’s taught you that by now.”

Even the darkness of the room can’t hide the dark flush on your neck, at the tops of your cheeks and ears. But to his frustration, you don’t take the bait and steer the conversation into safer waters.

You frown for a long moment. So long Eddie is sure you’re cooking up some kind of lecture. And then you climb all the way onto the bed, dropping down beside him and effectively trapping him. He hasn't decided if he minds, yet. Most of his actual mind is still stuck in a nightmare.

“Eddie,” you say.

Eddie doesn’t think anyone has ever said his name like that before—like it’s not a bullet.

“Look at me,” you say, and he does. And no one has ever looked at him like this, either.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

“Not really,” he says.

You nod. Your brow twitches, and you lift a hand to settle on his face. Your thumb traces along his cheekbone, and something cracks open inside of him.

He doesn’t say anything—maybe you see it in his face. You wrap your arms around him and pull him close as he shakes. Breaks. He slips his arms around your waist and buries his face in your neck, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until it’s too late to stop it.

But all he can think about is being small, in a little brick house, curled up on the couch with his mom. These days, he can’t remember the exact shade of her eyes, or the sound of her laugh, but he remembers her dark curls tickling his cheeks as she peppered kisses across his face. He remembers laughing until his stomach ached. The first time someone loved him—not the way his uncle loves him, or the way his friends do, but really, truly, loved him.

Until now, he wondered if it would be the last.

Something like a sob worms its way up Eddie’s throat, and he swallows it down, hard. He pulls back suddenly, swiping his hands over his eyes and inhaling sharply. He clears his throat.

“Christ, sorry,” he says.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For starters, waking you up in the middle of the night,” he says. “And for weeping like some baby in your arms.”

You smile softly, inclining your head. You flick a strand of hair out of Eddie’s eyes.

“For starters,” you mimic, “I woke you up first.”

Eddie inhales, and when it comes out as more of a sniffle, he wants to dissolve into floor.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “For the second thing, then. If you could forget that ever happened, actually, that’d be fantastic.”

You inspect him for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“Most girls find it attractive when a man cries, you know,” you say, just teasing enough that Eddie allows it. “Or hasn’t someone taught you that yet.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and extricates himself from your arms, but when he tries to pull back, you catch his face in your hands. He could pull away. He doesn’t.

“You can talk to me, you know,” you say. “You’re not going to scare me off.”

Eddie almost lies, but maybe he’s tired of pretending, or just plain tired. So he doesn’t lie.

“It’s this dream. I’m back in that hell-pit, but I can’t move. Can’t scream. I’m gonna die, and I know it.” Eddie shakes his head. “The first time I got arrested, I remember thinking, this is it, Munson, this is the end of the road. You really did it now, man.” He snorts. “I was fifteen, and an idiot, and I got off with some bullshit community service. Like I wasn’t already providing a community service.”

“The friendly, misunderstood, neighborhood drug dealer,” you say.

Eddie smiles. “Basically.”

You lift a brow, urging him to continue.

Eddie swallows and says, “And then, when I was seventeen, I flipped this dirt bike I took way too far out onto the interstate. Got stranded in the middle of nowhere. I thought I was a goner, then, too, but some poor tourist from Bloomington found me, dragged my ass to the closest hospital. And it felt like… I don’t know, like I’d just scraped through.” Eddie clears his throat. “But when we were all down there—when I was—” He stops.

Something bumps his hand, and he glances down just in time to see you threading your fingers through his.

“I was just laying there, dying, and all I could think was, okay, so this is it. The actual end of the goddamn road.” He closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I still feel like I’m there. Like I’ll always be there. Bleeding out in the dirt.”

“But you’re not.”

“You sure about that?” he asks. “Cuz, honestly, some days, I’m not.”

You’re quiet for a long time before you finally speak.

“I’ve been at the end of the road more times than I can count,” you say softly. “But it kept going. It always keeps going.”

“And if it doesn’t?” he asks, cocking a brow.

A tiny, sad smile plays on your lips. “Then you find another one.”

And if Eddie hadn’t already considered that this entire thing was some twisted fantasy conjured by his overtired brain, you lean toward him, and press your lips to his.

He’s so shocked he forgets to move, forgets to breathe, and doesn’t manage to figure it out until a beat after your hands fall from his cheeks and you start to pull back. He takes your chin in his hand, guiding you back to him.

He kisses you like he’s wanted to for two months. Until his lips are numb and you’re both breathing heavy, and all of his nightmares have been lured back into their hiding places. Not forever, but for now, and now is enough.

You end up a pile of tangled limbs and blankets, Eddie’s arms around you and your head pillowed on his chest. He trails a slow finger up and down your forearm.

At some point, he asks, without meaning to, “Is this real?”

You twist in his arms, rolling onto your stomach and propping yourself up on his chest. Your lips curl up in a smile.

“If you want it to be,” you say.

Eddie grins. “No complaints here.”

You laugh, and take one of his curls between your fingers, wrapping it once, twice, three times around your knuckle. You lift your eyes to his, suddenly serious.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Eddie’s stomach flips, though he isn’t sure why. He nods.

You hesitate. Swallow. Say, quickly, “I think I might be in love with you.”

Eddie feels like his chest cracks wide open. He rolls through a dozen things to say, before settling for the copout.

“You think?”

You huff a laugh. “Fine. I definitely am, but I’m trying not to—”

“Scare me off?”

You shrug.

Eddie’s smile widens, and he finally understand the sentiment of smiling so hard it hurts. Of happiness being so big that it’s painful.

“In case you were curious,” Eddie says. “I’m definitely in love with you.” Love. It’s been so long since he said the word, it tastes unfamiliar, but he doesn’t mind it. Might even like it.

“You better be,” you say. “Or this was about to get really awkward.”

Eddie laughs, and kisses you once, twice, three times, until you’re laughing, too. And even though the lights are off, Eddie swears his room has never been brighter.

-

taglist: @milkiane​

[lemonlyman-dotcom]

Thank you for the tags @honeybee-taskforce @heartstringsduet @welcometololaland @paperstorm @sznofthesticks @strandnreyes @thisbuildinghasfeelings @carlos-in-glasses @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad @orchidscript & @ladytessa74 💕

Chapter Two of Eid Fic is live now on ao3. Here’s a bit from the upcoming Chapter Three.

He dreams of her in their kitchen in the 86th Street apartment. He sees the soft yellow tiles on the backsplash, smells her lilac perfume, sees her steady hands as she beat the egg whites, his giggle when she tickled his chin while he stood on the chair pushed up to the counter next to her, her wrapping him in an oversized apron, telling him to keep his hands away from the stove as she dropped the balls of matzah into the boiling pot.

“S— soup?” Carlos asked, bracing to catch TK’s weight as his knees buckled. Gently kneeling down and guiding him to the floor. Gathering TK up as much as he could in their awkward position on the kitchen floor, cradling him and rocking him softly. “Baby, what soup?”

When TK’s body stopped shaking, when the sobs faded into sniffles and he snuggled a little closer, Carlos pulled back so he could wipe TK’s face with the sleeve of his sweater.

“Carlos, don’t I’m gross.”

“You’re not gross, you’re never gross.”

He sniffled loudly. “Sometimes I’m gross.”

“Hmm,” Carlos said, patting softly at TK’s cheeks with his sleeve again. “You’re never gross to me, TK.”

TK sighed sweetly, resting his cheek on Carlos’s strong shoulder. Carlos kissed his head and he felt at once overcome by another wave of emotion. This time guilt. He hated being such a burden on Carlos. Waking him up at 3 am just to have to hold a shaky, snotty TK on the cold, concrete kitchen floor. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, fresh tears beginning to cascade down his cheeks.

“Oh, hey. Hey, baby,” Carlos soothed, pulling TK that much tighter. “Don’t be sorry. Why are you sorry?”

“I feel like you always have to take care of me.”

TK felt Carlos’s body shake in gentle laughter. “Baby are you kidding?”

TK responded with another big sniffle.

“Tyler, we take care of each other. Just this morning you made me breakfast and—”

“Yeah but anybody could do that for you.”

“Not anybody.” Carlos began emphasizing his words with kisses over TK’s hair and face. “Just you.” Kiss. “I went 26 years without anybody to make me coffee.” Kiss. “Or pancakes.” Kiss. “Or sit with me while I eat them.” Kiss, kiss. “And fill me in on all the station gossip.” Kiss, kiss, kiss until TK began to laugh and push him away.

Carlos’s eyes shined bright in the soft light from the street lamps outside, it crept into the loft through the kitchen window, filtered through the leaves of the tree just outside, and painted him in a soft golden glow. The light caught the tips of his curls in such a way that, through the tears in TK’s eyes, he looked like he wore a gorgeous glowing halo. It suited him.

“First of all, I love taking care of you, baby.” Carlos continued. “Second, you take care of me all the time.”

TK sniffled again. “I do?”

“‘Fraid so.”

“You mean with sex?”

He rolled his shoulders back, clearly biting back another laugh. “No.”

“Oh.”

“You do take care of me with sex too, obviously, five stars on the sex.”

“Only five?”

“Ten million stars.”

TK wagged his eyebrows in an attempt to be flirty, despite his disheveled state. “Is this because of that thing that I did last week?”

“Shut up,” Carlos laughed. Sitting back so he could stand up, then helping TK up off the floor and guiding him over to the couch.

Tagging @whatsintheboxmh @vineofroses @alrightbuckaroo @chicgeekgirl89 @bonheur-cafe @fallout-mars @your-catfish-friend @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @inkweedandlizards @kiwichaeng @carlos-tk @literateowl @freneticfloetry @guardian-angle22 @my-little-tilly @tinyluminaryzombie @basilsunrise @louis-ii-reyes-strand @herefortarlos @apothecarose @rmd-writes @thebumblecee @theghostofashton @welcometololaland @reyesstrand @itsrandomnobody7 @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @iboatedhere @never-blooms @ambiguouspenny @noxsoulmate @detective-giggles @decafdino and OPEN TAG 🏷️

[strnsvt]

joshua hong — unwritten constellations: love beyond royalty.

joshua leaned casually against the polished car, a gentle smile gracing his features as you stormed out of the grand doors, your eyes flashing with frustration, "take me far away from this royal chaos," he nodded silently, opening the car door for you.

the car sped through the winding city streets as joshua glanced at you. a subtle smile played on his lips as you stared out of the window, letting a tear roll down your cheek which didn't go unnoticed by joshua.

wordlessly — he reached into the compartment, giving you a delicate handkerchief, knowing not to speak unless spoken to.

"i hate this, joshua," you say, dabbing away the tear. joshua's gaze remained steady on the road ahead, "i understand, princess," he replied in a soothing tone.

"don't call me that," you sniffled.

despite your plea, joshua couldn't help but push back with a teasing tone, "alright, princess. even in the chaos, there's a certain elegance to your rebellion."

"stop calling— oh my god," more tears streamed down your face and joshua only chuckles.

"so, where are we headed, princess?"

"..."

"where are we headed, y/n?" joshua asked again, the anticipation hanging in the air.

you sighed, gazing out the window at the passing city lights. "i don't know, joshua. just drive,"

"won't your parents—"

"no. don't talk about them,"

"i might get fired if—"

"just drive," you interrupt, refusing to let him finish his sentences, "for an hour or two or three,"

"a three-hour long drive. noted," joshua says, adjusting the rearview mirror. "but before that, we have to visit the gas station," you simply hum.

the car pulled into a dimly lit gas station, the soft glow of fluorescent lights casting an otherworldly ambiance. joshua parked — as you both stepped out into the crisp night air.

as he began refueling the car, you leaned against the side, deep in thought. "it's strange, finding sanctuary in a place like this,"

joshua chuckled, his hands still busy with the pump. "sometimes, unexpected stops lead to unexpected revelations,"

you glanced around at the flickering neon signs and the distant hum of the highway. "i never imagined a gas station could be a refuge,"

he finished refueling and joined you, a playful glint in his eyes. "life is full of surprises. now, shall we continue our journey into the unknown?"

"..."

"princess?"

"joshua, my parents...they've already started arranging suitors for my marriage," you admitted, the weight of their expectations heavy in your voice.

a subtle change crossed joshua's expression, a fleeting emotion surfacing in his eyes when the topic of suitors arose, "oh," is all he exhaled out.

"joshua?"

"yes?"

"...lets go?"

he simply nods, with a shared understanding hanging in the air, you both climbed back into the car, leaving the gas station's ethereal glow behind. the engine hummed to life as joshua merged onto the open road, the city lights fading into the distance.

"three hours of silent drive. am i right, princess?"

you turn your head to look at him, "no, not silent,"

"do you wish to play some music then?"

"no. i want to talk to you. and i want you to talk to me. like a friend. we're hardly two years apart, joshua,"

"im afraid, i can't do that," he says, changing the gear.

"why not?" you asked, the quiet urgency in your voice breaking the serene atmosphere.

"because, y/n, every stolen glance, every shared silence, they echo with something more profound. i can't simply be a friend when my heart whispers a different story,"

"...what do you mean?"

joshua simply takes your hand in his, holding it so delicately, his lips brushing against your skin in a tender kiss.

joshua, sensing the need for a moment of solitude, steers the car toward a isolated place.

"why here, joshua?"

"because, i need to do this," he replied, undoing the seatbelt and leaning towards you. in that secluded haven, he captured your lips with his in a chaste kiss, a gentle exchange of emotions that spoke louder than words.

the night enveloped you both in its quiet embrace, the car now parked in solitude. joshua's kiss lingered, a silent promise between the flickering stars above.

"unexpected turns," he murmured, his voice a soft echo in the stillness. you met his gaze, finding solace in the unspoken connection.

"what now, joshua?" you whispered, the vulnerability in your words hanging in the air, "what about the suitors?"

"let them chase shadows," he replied, intertwining his fingers with yours. "our story, princess, is written in the stars, not in the scripts they pen."

and so, the road unfolded, weaving a narrative of love, rebellion, and the quiet strength found in the spaces between whispered confessions and stolen kisses.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy Holidays! More of wy as female mxy married to lz please!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17

Jingyi has gotten roped into tea with Clan Leader Lan and Jin Guangyao by Sizhui, which he grumbles about but doesn't actually mind because Jin Guangyao never gives him that mildly disappointed look that he gives other people when they break the rules. Sizhui says it's because Clan Leader Lan thinks he's funny, which is true. He is funny.

There's a frantic knock at the door and Jin Guangyao frowns but says, "Enter."

The door is shoved open and a pale disciple blurts, "Hanguang Jun has beat Madame Lan and now she's with the healers!"

Everyone freezes and Sizhui's eyes go liquid and huge in a way Jingyi hates.

"Don't lie!" Jingyi snaps.

"I saw it," he says urgently. "He just left her there and she had to be carried away!"

Sizhui doesn't ask to be dismissed or even take the time to bow to his uncle and his uncle's - er, whatever they're supposed to call Jin Guangyao since the betrothal didn't work out. Instead he just bolts.

Since Jingyi isn't the heir to the clan, he gives a hasty bow and a "Sorry" before chasing after his best friend. This is probably cosmic retribution for all the times Sizhui has been the one chasing after him.

There are several disciples stationed outside of the healers. Lan Biyu steps in front of the door. "Young Master Lan, now is not the best time to-"

Sizhui glares. "She's my mother. Move!"

She stares at him, wide eyed, and even Jingyi is taken aback. He's never heard him talk like that, but than again none of them would ever be foolish enough to try and get between Sizhui and Hanguang Jun. It's time for them to learn the same care should be extended for Madame Lan.

Lan Biyu steps aside, head bowed.

Jingyi follows Sizhui inside, terrified at what they might find.

Those fears instantly collapsed. Lady Xuanyu is upright and cheerfully talking to healers with glowing hands. Jingyi flushes bright red and looks to the side, because she's only wearing her inner robe with the shoulders pulled down so healing paste can be applied to several dark bruises, which is perhaps why Lan Biyu was trying to keep them out in the first place.

Her bright attitude doesn't change the fact she's covered in bruises and blood, though.

"Hi boys," she says cheerfully, completely unconcerned with her state of undress. Which is one thing with Sizhui being her step son, but she definitely should kick Jingyi out at least.

"What happened?" Sizhui asks. "Did my father do this?"

She shrugs, winces, and gets glared at by the healers for disrupting their movements. "It was a group effort."

Sizhui has gone dangerously pale. Jingyi demands, "What's that supposed to mean?"

Hanguang Jun wouldn't really beat his wife, would he? He may not like her, but he doesn't even beat misbehaving disciples. He wouldn't hurt his weak wife who can't even defend herself. Right?

"We were sparring," she says. "He really gave me a workout!"

"It's not a spar if you can't fight back!" he insists.

One of the disciples along the wall snorts, sees everyone's eyes turn to her, and her cheeks flush.

Lady Xuanyu gives him a look, but says, "Unfortunately his core is strong enough that the bruises I gave him are probably already healed, but you'll just have to take my word for it."

"Was it really just a spar?" Sizhui asks quietly.

She blinks. "What else would it be?"

He doesn't answer.

"I ordered them to fight me," she continues, "so I can't really complain about your father joining it."

She what?

"Will someone please tell me what happened?" Jingyi asks plaintively.

Lan Fen does.

He stares, not even able to care about the impropriety of seeing her like this. "You're crazy."

"Jingyi!" several people shout while Sizhui finally seems to relax, his lips quirking up at the corners.

Lady Xuanyu erupts into peals of laughter, disrupting the healers work and causing several of them to send him an annoyed glare, since obviously they can't glare at Madame Lan.

[fruitcoops]

can you write something with this quote I found? It’s so fitting for coops !

“I hope the most beautiful thing you ever see if another human”

In honor of final exams, here's some Harvard FinnLo fluff to share in the suffering--or, you're in a library with a beautiful boy...

Character credit goes to @lumosinlove , who shattered me into a thousand pieces with the new art and will be receiving a UPS box containing my entire heart soon. It's just easier that way.

(and to my friends, who do not know this blog exists but have spent their night/ early morning sitting across from me while we work, I love you v much)

“I’m gonna die.”

“Non.”

“I’m going to fail out of Harvard.”

“Non.”

“Yon.”

Logan’s eyes flicked up over the edge of the wooden table divider and narrowed, the green made bright by the black band of his chunky headphones. “You’re not failing out.”

“Might.” Finn slumped further into the palm of his hand. Another half-inch of Logan disappeared on the opposite side of their table. They had been here for hours. His body ached. His mind fizzled softly, like bacon fried so long it crumbled at the first touch.

Huh. Maybe he could use that in his paper. Reformation-era literary techniques had to fit somewhere in there.

A sigh gusted out of Logan; Finn straightened just enough to peek over the mahogany separating them. Blunt fingertips pressed against the inner corners of his eyes and turned the skin white, then dragged along the first hints of exhausted shadows before pulling down until Logan had to blink. He caught Finn watching and the almost of a smile shimmered across his face before he pointedly pulled his headphones back over his ears and bent his head to his notebook.

They had learned their lesson from midterms season—any tables where they could see each other only led to hours upon hours of talking instead of studying. But working alone was not an option (not that Finn had ever suggested it), so. Dividers. They had blinders on the sides, too. Finn sort of felt like he had been put in a filing box when they worked here.

“Lo,” he hissed. The scratch of a mechanical pencil answered. “Logan.”

A girl at the table next to them shot him an unamused look. Finn hoped his smile seemed apologetic, or at least sincere.

“Tremzy.”

The toe of a worn-out sneaker found his ankle. Solid, but gentle.

“Fucker,” Finn whispered, hiding his grin behind their divider.

A puff of air would have rustled his notes if they had been studying at their usual place at the dining room table. He listened to Logan scribble; always stilted when his hands got tired. Their room would smell like Tiger Balm tonight. He’d get to see the funny little wrinkle of Logan’s nose, too. Warm light from the swirling green lamps beside them made his hair glow chestnut and maple. It curled at the ends from his shower after practice, now far enough gone that each thick lock was mostly dry. He hated going to bed damp.

A faint ripping noise made the girl next to them glance over. Something gave a faint plastic rattle.  Finn had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his laugh back when Logan’s hand appeared over the divider and haphazardly taped a torn corner of notebook paper to Finn’s side.

SHUT. WORKING.

Reformation literature could wait.

Finn’s pen smudged blue streaks across the side of his palm. He took Logan’s note and carefully peeled the tape off, then smoothed the curling edge over the section he had torn from his own notes.

On what?????

The sliver of Logan’s back he could see heaved.

Finn waited for a long moment.

The tape came free with a nigh-imperceptible snick.

Econ. Logan’s fingernails were ragged at the edges from biting.

Econ-your-mom-ics.

The crumpled-up note came sailing back over without a response—he caught it half an inch from his forehead and tucked it into the waterbottle pouch of his backpack before carefully sliding his chair back and leaning forward, far enough to rest his chin on top of the divider.

Logan’s work station was a disaster. Hurricane Tremblay has entered the building, he thought as Logan’s marking of a demand curve slowed to a stop. Highlighters of three different sizes were scattered among half a dozen pens and dull pencils. A thin layer of used-eraser confetti littered every page and worksheet.

Logan had switched to a blue pen—one of Finn’s, he realized. Likely borrowed during their last study session. Finn pressed his chin harder to the wooden edge and waited. Always patient. Logan would crack soon.

Ever so slowly, Logan looked up at him from under his lashes. His hands flattened over his notes. He would have looked immensely unimpressed if Finn didn’t know better.

The cold press of a ballpoint to the tip of his nose was…not unwelcome, but not unexpected. Finn scrunched his face up and heard a short, amused exhale. The pen retreated. Logan was really smiling now, tiny and mischievous. “There.” He was always better at whispering than Finn. “Rudolph’s fucked-up cousin.”

Finn had to duck into his sweater at that, shoulders shaking with the force of a contained bark of laughter. The girl next to them made a show of turning up her music in her earbuds. God, he should feel bad, shouldn’t he? They should go home—go to their room and try one more time to be productive without the laws of Harvard’s libraries looming over them. Percy had been trying to convince him to bring one of the library lamps home for ages.

Logan finally looked away from his notebook, grinning wildly as he shook his head and gave Finn’s forehead a light push. The chair creaked when Finn sat again and scooted forward. He didn’t even want to think about how old these things were, or he’d start getting philosophical. It was much more fun to wax poetic about the importance of Harvard history regarding antique chairs when he was drunk and in Will’s care for the evening.

Logan would listen, Finn thought as he woke his computer up and flexed his hands over the keyboard. Some of the letters were worn nearly bare from his fingers. Logan would laugh at him, but he would listen. He could hear it now. Okay, Harz. Uh-huh. Oh, really? Should I leave you and the chairs alone for a while?

No, no, he would say. I gotta show you. You gotta know.

Logan would shake his head again. Finn figured he’d have a fifty-fifty chance of getting Logan to come with him on a late-night library run versus letting him wrangle him back to bed. He’d be happy either way.

For now, Microsoft Word was waiting with a heading, six sources, and an impatient cursor tapping its foot over his bolded [TITLE!!!!] notation.

--

Midnight came and went between paragraphs four and five. The girl next to them packed her things five minutes later, slinging her satchel over her shoulder as if it weighed eight hundred pounds.

Logan dropped a pen—black, this time—just after one o’clock.

The library lights flickered when the clock hit 1:30. They gathered their things, not bothering to pack their bags, and relocated to the first floor’s 24-hour room with the rest of the pitiful souls relinquishing their night to the altar of academia.

Finn’s eyes began to burn at 2:37.

The first soft snore sounded at 2:51.

He had been so good. So good. He hadn’t bothered Logan at all, not counting the friendly slap to the back of his head when he came back from the bathroom. Nine glorious pages of semi-decent analysis were finally in existence.

The next snore was a touch louder, like Logan had breathed away whatever muffled it before. Finn leaned up on his elbows to see over the edge and smiled to himself at the curls pressed flat to spiraled aluminum. Logan’s lips were parted on the paper. His pencil—back to the pencil? Finn would never understand him—hung limp in the valley of his thumb. His other hand rested on the back of his neck, like he had been supporting himself on it before sleep made him slump right over.

“Tremz. Logan. Hey, number ten.”

Logan’s finger twitched.

Finn sat back, stretched his leg out, and landed a light kick on Logan’s shin. He heard a snort before Logan’s jolt reached his foot. “Calice de crisse—”

“Good morning.”

Logan was blinking hard and slow when Finn leaned up again, both hands wrapped around the table edge and maybe, maybe, one foot on earth. “When time?”

“It’s three o’clock.”

“…practice?”

“In the morning.”

Logan nodded, slothlike, eyelids drooping. Graphite stamped the round part of his cheek; he scratched at it, yawned, and stretched both arms out in front of himself in an Oscar-worthy performance of someone who was any kind of awake.

“We should go back,” Finn suggested.

“Non. All-nighter.”

“It’s officially morning.”

Logan exhaled through his nose for several seconds. He was staring into the middle distance again, right along the seam of their barrier. “I have another chapter.”

I ‘ave anuzzer shapter. Soft, and low, and raspy. So close to his morning voice, but not quite. Finn nudged him with his toe. His heart gave a flip at Logan’s light frown. “I’m going to run through my paper one more time,” he offered. “We can head out after that.”

Logan looked up at him, the picture of confusion. “You’re going running?”

“Editing.”

“Oh.” He nodded. “Okay.”

“Finish your chapter.”

“Okay.”

He cracked his knuckles twice before bending over his notes. One hand rubbed through the back of his hair, left long for the end of the season. He’d probably get it cut over winter break. Finn sort of didn’t want him to.

There was a throbbing behind Finn’s eye that had started somewhere around his first attempt at a concluding paragraph. His fingertips were numb and his wrists were sure to hurt as soon as he stopped writing. He wasn’t sure when exactly his mouth had gone so dry, but it had, and he spared a moment’s thought toward the drink station in the lobby. They always had coffee around finals—it was decent, if a little burnt. He wondered if they’d have mint tea.

Logan’s pencil moved audibly slower than before. Loops and swirls and scratches, a language Finn would never understand. Words were his place: endless white pages and safe letters to curl up in. But numbers and statistics, the things with straight answers, were all for Logan’s clever mind.

Those same words echoed in his head and blurred as he scrolled through a halfhearted read-through. It wasn’t long before he shut his dying laptop and finally let it rest, sagging low in his chair. He turned his face to the ceiling and closed his eyes. It would be easy to fall asleep here, with Logan’s foot against his and the gentle sounds of the library wrapping him up.

“Harzy.”

“ ‘m awake.”

“I’m not.” Something tapped the back of Finn’s hand. “Allez, or I’m leaving without you.”

As if. Finn took the proffered hand without opening his eyes and let Logan pull him up, groaning at the pinch in his legs. The crinkle of paper as he shoved it into his bag made him wince, but that was a problem for the morning. It looked like Logan hadn’t bothered to organize, either.

“Zipper,” Logan reminded him, not looking up from his phone. “I don’t want to hear you complain about more lost pens.”

“Thanks.”

“That’s why you have me.”

How Finn wished that was true.

“You know, I read something kind of neat earlier,” he said as they left the study room. At Logan’s hum of mild interest, he turned to walk backward for a few steps. “I hope the most beautiful thing you ever see is another human. Kinda nice to think about, huh?”

“Hmm.”

“I dunno.” Logan tapped them out of the library with his ID. Finn hadn’t bothered to reach for his own in a long time. He smiled to himself as December bit their cheeks, jostling Logan’s shoulder at the first scrape of brick below their feet. “I like it.”

“You would.”

“Shut up.”

“Non.”

“Yon.”

[thelightsandtheroses]

Secret Smile: Giving In (Chapter Nine)

Javier Peña x female reader

Summary: Before returning to Colombia to get things right this time, Javi’s childhood best friend asks him to keep an eye out for his sister while they’re both stationed in the embassy. Only you don’t need Javier to keep an eye you her. Your role as a new legal advisor is all about keeping an eye on him after all. Sparks fly, lines will be drawn and broken and there’s everything to lose.

Word Count: 3k Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog, smut (p in v, oral f receiving and fingering), language, reader has a nickname (Blue) but no physical descriptors are used. Reader’s age range is mentioned once in this chapter (previously established that is a similar age to Javi but slightly younger) Notes: Okay, so we’re here guys. The slow burn is burning! I am not a natural smut writer in the slightest but I have tried! Please be kind.

The kiss is bitterness, desperation, and relief all at once. It tastes like fire and feels like a summer breeze.  It’s contradiction after contradiction.

He traces kisses down your neck, entwines his fingers with yours, pushes your back against the window and when he meets your lips again, when your kiss deepens you hear him groan.

“I don’t want you to regret this. I don’t want this to be about them.” He breaks away from you, panting slightly. “Don’t want you to regret me,” he adds in a low voice that tells you everything about what he’s really thinking.

“It’s not. And I couldn’t.”

This is Javi after all. You have wanted him for so long.

That’s all it takes, he takes your hands in his and kisses you as he gently guides you to his sofa, roams his hands down your waist, traces kisses down your jaw.

There’s safety in his arms and all the noise and anxiety in your head is fading away with each touch, each caress, each kiss.

You hastily unbutton your blouse, allowing Javi to remove the rest of it, his hands then drawing a line up your waist to meet the edge of your bra. You mentally thank whatever divine force inspired you to wear your good bra today as his fingers tantalising hover over the edge of the lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he whispers in your ear. “Wanted you like this for ages.”

“Really?”

“You sound surprised.”

“I thought you hated me when you arrived.”

Javier groans against your neck, a gesture that shouldn’t make the heat pool between your legs like it does.

”How many times have I got to say that I never hated you? I hated that they put you in this position., Cariño, do you really want talk about this right now?”

His hand is edging up your leg, below your skirt and tracing up, up, up to skim the outer edges of your underwear. You’re sure he can feel the effect he’s having on you already despite the cotton layer between you. The layer you’re suddenly desperate to be rid of.

“No.” You pause and then quietly add, “I want you to take me to your bedroom.”

Javier smiles: a full glowing smile you haven’t seen before those brushes past the. “I can work with that.”

You’re touching or kissing the whole time he guides you to his bed. In the moment, you’re finally able to unbutton his shirt, discard it on the floor in your journey, and to feel the heat and solid skin on his torso. His heart is thumping when your fingers skim over his chest before sliding your hands lower.

His hand between your legs, fingers deftly moving up your folds, between your slick to find just that spot.

His fingers touching, touching you, reaching inside you. One then two - opening you up and finding that pace, that rhythm that has your breath ragged and eyes closed, tantalising close but then he -

He tastes you on his fingers, sucking each digit before salaciously smirking and moving down, down, down to place his mouth on you.

He’s meticulous; one hand on your hip as he carefully takes you apart with each kiss, lick, the way his nose feels against your clit.

The heat in you builds and builds again and this time you let go. Let the white heat take you away and leave you boneless.

He’s with you again, kisses your

“Do you have protection?” you ask as your heart still races and ears buzz.

Javi nods. “Bedside cabinet.” He reaches over and pulls the box from the drawer and you unbutton his trousers.

Hands everywhere. You can’t not touch, every movement tracing heat down your body.

There’s that moment as the two of you finally connect, as he eases himself into you.

For a second, the two of you pause and you mentally adjust to the weight and feel of him, your gaze is focused on each other. Javi leans down to kiss you once again. This time it’s surprisingly gentle.

You loop your arms around his broad shoulders as he finally moves.

It takes a moment to get just the right pace but then it’s there and it’s magic and the two of you move together, connect in a way you would never have expected a year ago but now realise was always the ending.

Fate has bought you together and this, maybe this is why.

The crescendo builds.

Then you both finally let go of it all.

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed. It’s been a while since that happened. There’s a pleasant ache, flashes of the night before coming to you as you flutter open your eyes.

Javi’s there next to you, all heat and warmth, one arm sprawled over your side, the other curved above his head. You turn carefully so you’re facing him but you don’t wake him either.

His eyes are shut, a peaceful expression on his face. One you haven’t seen before but you want to see again and again and again.

 The two of you have really crossed the point of no return now.

A brief stab of anxiety hits you. Where do the two of you go from here?

Can you truly stay in Colombia much longer? Since Javi arrived, it’s been clear your role has an eventual expiry date. You could go to another embassy, carry on advising, but you’d be away from Javi.

How would that work?

You’re not sure you can take the politics or messiness much longer anymore. It wears at you, corrodes you over time. You’re exhausted and you’re not making the difference you hoped.

You went to law school with naive aspirations and none of them have been realised.

Javi’s eyes gradually open in front of you.

“Morning,” he grumbles, moving to rub his eyes in a gesture that feels so young, so vulnerable.

“Hi.”

You feel awkward for a moment. Conscious of the vulnerability of this moment, of the fact you have no idea if you’re welcome to stay or expected to leave.

“Coffee?” he asks sleepily, tracing idle shoes down your side.

“Yeah, if you’re making some.“

“Course. If you want to stay, that is.”

“I do.”

“Good,” Javi stretches, moving his arm away from you. You pout at the loss of contact, the sudden coolness from his hand not being on you.

“Mind if I have a shower while you make coffee?” you ask drowsily, hoping the hot water will wake you up properly, shake off the gnawing anxiety of what comes next.

He shakes his head, mumbles where he keeps fresh towels before leaning over you to kiss you, his hands once more roaming down your side and

“Could join you,” he murmurs.

Well, that should definitely wake you up and shift the anxieties away, you think as you smile back at him. 

You can smell the coffee on the stove as you walk into Javi’s kitchen, zipping your skirt up as you go. In hindsight, turning up at his apartment in your work  clothes had not been the best, or most comfortable, idea.

You’re also not sure how you’ll hide the fact they’re from yesterday in the office; your blouse is crumpled and creased. Maybe Javi can drop you off at your apartment before work so you can quickly change, or you can borrow a shirt.

Maybe you’re just the right level of invisible that no one would notice.

“You hungry?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Depends on how bad a cook you are.“

“I’ve survived this long,” he says with a smirk.

“Yeah, but so’s Rafa and he would probably burn water.”

“He’s a doctor.”

“And you’ll be glad if he is if he ever cooks for you. It’s balance,” you say sagely.

“I can scramble eggs, or we can pick something up on the way in? I can drop you off, but I have to go somewhere before the office this morning,” Javi says lightly.

“ Go where?” There’s something in the air, something he’s not telling you.

“An appointment.” He shifts awkwardly, avoiding your eyes.

“Javi - what’s going on?”

“I - I can’t let it go,” he says finally.

“Let what go?” you ask, a growing sense of concern at his words.

“I have a meeting with Carolina Alvarez.” You recognise the name; she’s the journalist Javi was working with earlier in the year. You piece together his plan quickly, realise Javier Peña has one last move left.

It shouldn’t surprise you at all.

“Tell me, are you going to do what I think you are?”

“If I say yes, are you going to yell at me again?” he asks gently.

You say his name like a warning.

“I arranged it yesterday, before you - before we -“ Javi breaks off and then sighs. “ I - I can’t let this go, Blue. Please don’t ask me to.”

You walk over to him. His shirt is partly buttoned, tie loose around his neck. You touch his cheek, let him lean into it before shifting your hands to his broad shoulders.

“Professionally speaking, I am not your lawyer so I cannot advise you on this, or be party to it.” You pause, smoothing his shirt and then looking at him with what you hope is a focused gaze, “Personally speaking though, Javi, if you don’t do this interview, then I will.”

“Blue - ” Javi looks at you dumbfounded.

“Now, I agree it will sound better if it comes from you rather than me,” you continue. “It’ll be more convincing; it will contain first-hand evidence as opposed to my second-hand knowledge. You know more about this than I probably ever will. I just want you to know though that I get it, Javi, that I’m with you.”

There’s a heavy silence between the two of you. You know Javi understands why you feel this way; why any perceived corruption would set you alight like this, bring up your ghosts and demons back. You don’t need to say it, neither of you do.

The two of you are haunted by different spectres of your pasts, and now you even share some of the same pains from your year together in Colombia. The two of you may be the only people who can truly understand this decision right now.

Javi has to do this - there is no way he can just walk away without doing this, without one last attempt for the truth to be known, for the right thing to be done. You know him. This is the only way this chapter in your lives can end.

“They’ll fire you. They’ll fire both of us when it comes out,” Javi says flatly.

“I know.” You sigh heavily. “You’ll need to resign just before publication. Promise me you will?”

“And you?” He loops his hands around your waist, pulls you closer to him. “I don’t want to jeopardise your future with this, Blue. My career with the DEA - it’s done. Your career doesn’t have to be though.”

“I’ll get something in motion. I don’t know if I can - if I can resign before you without raising an alarm so - I’m not sure how I’ll do this if I’m honest. It’s - if they know it’s you, then I’ve probably definitely failed at what they wanted me to do with you so they would -” you trail off.

“No, no, absolutely not. You are not getting fired over this. I am not getting you fired, cariño. You can’t ask me to be okay with that.”

“I agree, Javi. I won’t be. Look, I - I have some ideas. I told you before, I’m really good at what I do. You just worry about what you want to say.”

You go to kiss his cheek lightly but he tilts his head at the last moment with a knowing smirk so you’re meeting his lips instead.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders as he presses you against his kitchen counter, moves his hands from your waist to your hips.

You open your mouth to deepen the kiss.

You could spend hours like this.

“You have an appointment, Javi,” you say as he moves his kisses down your neck.

“I can be a little late,” he mumbles, resting his head in the crook of your neck. 

“No, you can’t. Wear the red tie, it looks good on you.”

“She’s not filming me, Blue.”

“It’ll help, trust me.”

The stares follow Javi as he walks into the embassy, shoving his car keys into his jacket pocket.

The article is live - everybody is talking about it.

As he rounds the corner past the ambassador’s office, he notices Linda’s watchful eyes on him.

“He wants to see you today,” she says calmly, by way of warning. “I think after this call - expect to be summoned in the hour.”

“I hear you,” Javi says casually.

“It’s not looking good for you, Agent Peña.”

“I expect not.” He’s already resigned, took your advice, and had called the office in DC before he even left his apartment.

The two of you had spent the night before together again; distracting yourself from the knowledge the article was imminent by taking distraction in each other bodies.

He’s learning all the ways to take you apart; the expressions on your face as you grow close, the sounds you make, the way you taste.

You both wasted so much time, he thinks. We could have been doing this all along.

“He fired her, y’know.”

“What?”

She mumbles your name and it sends dread throughout his body. It’s a wave of anxiety, nausea, anger, and fear. His heart races and his palms are sticky.

“They fired her?”

“First thing this morning. She’s already left the building, Javier.”

You’d gone into work earlier than him after saying that you had some paperwork you needed to file.

You lied to him.

You told him this wouldn’t happen, that you had a plan, but he realises that you knew what would happen all along.

You let him do it anyway.

Javi’s hit with the sinking sense that he’s really fucked up. He’s ruined your career. He’s infected your life like poison, creeping and suffocating your ambitions. He took you down with him and he never meant to.

He quickly schools his expression, doesn’t say a word to Linda and carries on down to the DEA office.

Feistl and Van Ness are there, reading the article and both look at over him with unreadable expressions.

Stoddard stands from his desk and no one says a word to him.

It’s powerful really. He’s rendered them speechless, but he can feel it, the confusion, the sense of betrayal, the sense that he’s right and the relief it’s not them in his shoes today.

Before Stoddard can speak, Javi says, “When the Ambassador’s ready for me, let me know. I’ll be in my office.”

He shuts the door behind him and sits at his desk and waits.

“You said you had a plan, you said you would make sure this wouldn’t happen.” Javi looks angry, rests his head back against your bedroom wall as he watches you place folded clothes into your suitcase. 

“I know.” You smile at Javi affectionately. “I lied to you.”

“It’s not okay. This is not okay.”

“Our visas are pulled, you’ve resigned and they’re firing me. We’re being flown back to DC, Javi.  This is the situation we’re in and we need to work with this. Now you have to finish your handover and I - I have some meetings to get through too in DC -”

“You told me you wouldn’t get fired,” he says desperately, “You let me go into that interview, knowing they’d fire you for it.”

“Yes. I’d do it again.”

“What are you going to tell your family, cariño? What do I tell Rafa, huh? God, he asked me to look out for you.”

“What?”

“Oh, yeah, shit, I didn’t tell you that.”

“No, you didn’t. Okay, I’m in my thirties, does no one in my family think I can look after myself?”

”You are technically getting fired right now,” Javi says, raising his arms in mock surrender at your thunderous expression. 

“Thin ice, baby.”

He whispers your name in a low voice. “I didn’t want to get you fired, that wasn’t what we agreed. I wouldn’t have -”

“I told you where I stood on this, Javi. Look, have you considered that I have a plan?”

“Well, seeing as you said that before when you assured me you wouldn’t get fired because of me, then I have little confidence in any plan you have.“

“And I did have a plan then, and now I have another plan.”

“Blue. I’m not worth -”

“This was the right thing to do. It wasn’t about you, it was the right thing. Do you trust me?”

It’s an echo to your early conversations when you needed him to do something that you couldn’t do either. It’s a callback to when neither of you had placed faith in each other, but now, now you think the answer might be different.

“Of course,” Javi says firmly. “Of course I do.”

“Good, so trust me.” You kiss his cheek before going back to zip your suitcase. “I’ve got this.” 

Tag List

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[katzenmas]

Outlander

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── This idea came to me in a vision while i was rewatching the show. This first chapter is more of an introduction because the reader (SPOILER AHEAD) hasn't travelled back in time yet. I wanted to get this chapter out of the way as soon as possible so i can start writing the more interesting ones hehe. This fic will be a Johnny Soap MacTavish X Reader, but you are technically married to Graves in this chapter. He won't really show up after this unless you're talking about him.

Warnings : Some suggestive dialogue, implied sex. No use of Y/N, Female Reader ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

PART 1 Inverness, 2018 People disappear all the time. Ask any policeman. Better yet, ask a journalist. Young girls run away from home. Children stray from their parents and are never seen again. Housewives reach the end of their tether and take the grocery money and a taxi to the station. International financiers change their names and vanish into the smoke of imported cigars. Many of the lost will be found, eventually, dead or alive. Disappearances, after all, have explanations. The little inn did not look like a place people would disappear in. Mrs. Baird’s looked like any other run down Highland bed and breakfast. With peeling paint and near dead flowers, the smell of cigarette smoke stuck to the walls in the rooms. Mrs. Baird herself almost looked like her inn. In her late sixties, always bustling and talking, still she made no objections when Phillip turned the room she rented us into a second office. His laptop and papers strewn around the desk, walls now had something akin to maps tacked onto them. It was your husband’s great idea to take a second honeymoon trip. Inverness was a strange choice, the setting so different from the one you were used to in Texas. But when Phillip came to you with two plane tickets and news that a one month break was needed, you wouldn’t even dare to turn him down. Walking down the rickety stairs of the inn, you found your husband sitting in an armchair near a fireplace, a book about the Jacobite rebellion in his hands. He looked so peaceful sitting in the maroon chair, the flames from the fire basking him in a soft glow. “How long are you going to stand there and stare at me Mrs. Graves?” your lips quirked up in a smile as you walked over to your husband. He set his book down on a coffee table and beckoned you to sit across his lap. Your hands found their home looped around his neck and he smoked into your collarbone. “I don’t know Mr. Graves, you make a fine subject for staring, maybe I’ll never stop” you giggled and ran your hands through his hair. The sudden quietness behind you two told you that Mrs. Baird has put down her broom and was covertly watching you. While golf and fishing are Scotland’s most popular outdoor sports, gossip is the most popular indoor sport. And when it rains as much as it does in Scotland, people spend a lot of time indoors. “She’s staring again” You mumbled and Phillip donned a devilish grin. Suddenly he hoisted you up and ran the length of the stairs to your room. The sudden change made giggles erupt from your mouth as you clutched tighter to him. ‘“What in god’s name are you doing!” You yelled at him through fits of your giggles and your husband threw you down on the bed, before getting on it himself. He was halfway sitting up, with his knees digging into the mattress and he smiled at you. “I’d hate for the dear old thing to be disappointed in us,” he answered. Sitting up on the side of the ancient bed, he bounced gently up and down, creating a piercing rhythmic squeak. The footsteps in the hall stopped abruptly. After a minute or two of bouncing, Phillip gave a loud, theatrical groan and collapsed backward with a twang of protesting springs. You giggled helplessly into a pillow, so as not to disturb the breathless silence outside. Phillip waggled his eyebrows at you. “You’re supposed to moan ecstatically, not giggle,” he admonished in a whisper. “She’ll think I’m not a good lover.” “You’ll have to keep it up for longer than that, if you expect ecstatic moans,” You answered. “Two minutes doesn’t deserve any more than a giggle.” “Inconsiderate little wench. I came here for a rest, remember?”

“Lazybones. You’ll never manage the next branch on your family tree unless you show a bit more industry than that.” Both of you chuckled as Phillip moved to lay next to you, bringing his hand around your middle and squishing you closer to his chest. That’s how sleep found you, being held close by your husband’s strong arms as his rhythmic heartbeat slowly lulled you into sweet sleep. The rustling sounds of your husband getting dressed stirred you from your dreams. You slowly sat up in the bed and stretched, the downpour outside has finally stopped which meant you two would be walking around town tonight. “ Let’s stop at that pub from yesterday. That might’ve been the best salmon I’ve ever eaten” Phillip noticed that you woke up and started making plans about today’s escapades. First you were going to meet some tour guide that would drive you two to some historical sites and then back to Inverness. “I distinctly heard the barman at that pub last night refer to us as Sassenachs.”

“Well, why not?” said Phillip. “It only means ‘Englishman,’ after all, or at worst, ‘outlander,’ and we’re all of that.”

“I know what it means. It was the tone I objected to.” Phillip searched through the bureau drawer for a belt. “He was just annoyed because I told him the ale was weak. I told him the true Highland brew requires an old boot to be added to the vat, and the final product to be strained through a well-worn undergarment.”

“Ah, that accounts for the amount of the bill.”

“Well, I phrased it a little more tactfully than that, but only because the Gaelic language hasn’t got a specific word for drawers.”

You reached for a pair of your own underwear, intrigued. “Why not? Did the ancient Gaels not wear undergarments?”

Phillip leered. “You’ve never heard that old song about what a Scotsman wears beneath his kilts?”

“ No and I’d rather not hear about it now. Off to the bath you go, the stench of the fire still clings to your hair” You playfully messed with it and your husband smiles, cupping your face in his hand and kissing your brow.

“Only if you join me”

The walk to the town square was a bit hard, dull ache between your thighs after Phillip decided to fuck you senseless in the shower, was making itself known. Taking small steps you idly window-shopped. Your husband was on the phone, talking to the tour guide when your eyes caught sight of a vase. It looked tacky, the colors were bright and the shape was a bit lopsided but the drawing depicted on the vase itself was beautiful. A myriad of large stones in a valley, the sunset drawn behind it was basking the stone in a soft glow.

Soon you found yourself meeting Phillip at the crossing of the High Street and the Gereside Road and you turned up the road together. He raised his eyebrows at your purchases.

“Vases?” He smiled. “Wonderful. Perhaps now you’ll stop putting flowers in my books.”

“They aren’t flowers, they’re specimens. And it was you who suggested I take up botany. To occupy my mind, now that I’ve not got nursing to do,” You reminded him.

“True.” He nodded good-humoredly. “But I didn’t realize I’d have bits of greenery dropping out into my lap every time I opened a reference. What was that horrible crumbly brown stuff you put in Tuscum and Banks?”

“Groutweed. Good for hemorrhoids.”

“Preparing for my imminent old age, are you? Well, how very thoughtful of you.” You two laughed as suddenly a small green car stopped in front of you. The man in the driver’s side seat looked no more than fifty. Big rimmed glasses sat atop his small nose, wild curly hair had bits of gray in it and you noticed one golden tooth as he sent a smile your way.

“ Mr. and Mrs. Graves! Pleasure to meet ya, I’m Colm I’ll be takin’ ye to Craigh Na Dun”

[scholastic-dragon]

Ooh, that kissing prompt is a good one. It was hard to choose.

I would love some Bayverse Blurple. (Or just Leo or Donnie) and either kissing in the heat of the moment, or laughing while kissing.

Thank you in advance if you take this ask, or if not, that's okay too!

A call for blurple is one that must be answered

For you friend, absolutely

Disclaimer: turtles and reader are over 21 in this because they're drinking. They are adults!!! No minors!!!

Leo x Fem!reader x Donnie

Two Nights

Warnings: some drinking, reader, and turtles get a little tipsy, turtle smoothces, neck kisses, gets a bit steamy and suggestive at the end, vern almost being a co*k blocker, spelling mistakes,

It was Friday.

The sun had set, the night was cold, and yet you and one of your best friends were giggling and sitting up on the roof of your apartment building.

You'd bought cheap wine, chocolates, and candy from the store and just let the weeks stress go.

You popped another chocolate into your mouth and glanced at your friend. A 6' foot tall vigilante turtle with a heart of gold.

The blue banded turtle sighed as he looked out onto the glowing city.

"What really brought you here?" You take a sip from the wine bottle, carefully setting it down between you too.

"I'm so nervous about tomorrow," He chuckled, taking the bottle and having a long sip. He licked his lips, shivering slightly.

Untucking your own blanket, you scoot closer and throw half of it over his shell and shoulders. Thank goodness you picked the large blanket.

"Tomorrow should be exciting, though, right? I mean, it's a big ceremony for you guys and the police station,"

He nods, taking another sip. He offers it to you, and you take it, the liquid starting to make you feel warm and fuzzy.

"You sure we should be drinking? Wouldn't want you to be hungover tomorrow," you chuckle softly. "Or worse, what if Splinter finds out?"

Leo chuckles. "My dad isn't going to find out, and I'm not going to have a lot, just enough for the nerves to calm down,"

You roll your eyes, taking a sip. A harsh breeze rolls through the air, you tuck yourself closer to his side.

He moves his arm to wrap around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side. His hand resting on your shoulder.

Now that was a warm and fuzzy feeling.

Picking up the cardboard box of chocolates, you pop some into your mouth before offering some to Leo.

He takes one with a smile, both of you enjoying the silence of the city.

"Oh, I also have these!" Digging into your bag you pull out a plastic bag of different assorted candies. All different shapes and colors.

You both picked some out of that, but you got annoyed noticing that Leo was taking all the blue candies.

"Pick a different color! Everyone knows blue jolly ranchers are the best!" You complain, trying to grab said candy from his large palm.

"Have you not seen the mask? It's my thing!" He drops a handful of blue candy into his mouth, chewing loudly.

"You're gross," You nudge his shoulder, wrapping your arms around you.

He laughs, pulling you into his lap, handing you a green jolly rancher.

You angrily take the candy with a mumble of, "it's still not blue," and curl into his chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

He readjusts the blanket, pulling it over the both of you. You feel him sigh heavily, his shoulders were so tense.

"Why are you nervous about tomorrow?" You whisper, your cheek resting on his cool scales.

"I've started to kinda get a fear of crowded spaces, I hate the loud noises and the flashing lights, and then there's a whole section of the party where I have to be on stage with everyone staring at me,"

You nod, chewing on a candy. You wished you could get rid of his fear. "I think tomorrow is going to go great,"

"Yeah?" He peers down at you, you lift your head off his shoulder. "And why is that?"

"'Cause you're fucking awesome and deserve every award the police have,"

He starts chuckling at that, his eyes lighting up. You see the dread and disbelief flash across his face. Oh no, you couldn't have that.

"No, don't doubt it!" You start to poke his sides, making him yelp and try to move away from you.

"Y/n! Stop!"

You kept poking and tickling his sides, making him laugh and scoot back. Since you were on his thighs, you just went with him.

"Say it, and I'll stop!" You started to laugh with him, leaning forward.

"Y/n-"

"Say it!"

Instead of answering, he presses his lips to yours. Normally, you'd freak out, pull back, and ask why he did that. But given the wine, you started to kiss him back, giggling against his plush lips.

His hands landed on your upper back, holding you against his chest. He gently nipped your lip and licked the seam of your mouth.

You opened with a soft moan, giggling even more so as he tounge tasted of blue raspberry.

He pulled back, his eyes glossy and pupils blown wide, his hands rubbing your back comfortingly.

He was just so cute.

You leaned in, giggling and pressing quick pecks to his lips.

"What does this mean for us?" He asks between kisses.

"We'll figure it out tomorrow,"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were buzzing with energy the next night. Staring in the mirror at your dark indigo outfit, the straps made your chest look amazing, and you couldn't wipe the smile off your face.

Your phone buzzed, peering at it, you see that Donnie had texted you the address of the party. You called an Uber and arrived at Verns apartment.

He loved to show off, and these stupid, expensive police parties were a clear favorite.

Giving the bouncer your special plus one card, he leads you to the large open sitting area, full of people.

It was a large room, with vaulted ceilings and a gigantic TV. Everything just looked expensive, and knowing that almost made the place seem ugly.

It's not hard to spot your friends. You happily run up to them, giving large hugs and compliments.

"You guys look amazing!" You gush. Mikey and Raph both gave soft chuckles, adjusting the jackets on their suits.

"April found a tailor that was willing ta do strange measurements," Raph pulled on his red tie, clearly unused to the attire.

"But you are right, babycakes, we look fabulous," Mikey pretended to flip hair over his shoulder.

You giggled softly, turning to Donnie. He was wearing a black suit with a dark purple button-up shirt underneath. He looked very handsome.

"You look great tonight as well," Donnie smiles warmly, gesturing to you.

You shake your head, a small blush dusting your cheeks at just staring openly at him. "Oh, this old thing? It's been in my closet forever," You both laugh softly.

You glance around, taking in the large crowd, then suddenly, something feels out of place.

"Wait, where's Leo?" The boys make awkward faces, glancing to each other, debating on telling you.

"He's...grounded," Mikey rubs his palms on his pants.

"Grounded?" You repeat, glancing between the three of them.

"Yeah, Mr. Honor Boy himself got caught drinking last night. Came home tipsy, and Splinter benched him for a month," Raph crossed his arms over his chest. He almost seemed sorry for his brother: almost.

"What?" Thankfully, the guys took your shook as surprise and not guilt.

"I know, it's completely out of Leo's character! He even volunteered to go to the Hai'shi so he wouldn't have to tell Master Splinter about it," Mikey piped in.

You suddenly felt hot, and guilty. Oh, you knew it was a bad idea to share the wine with Leo.

"Are you alright?" Donnie asked, his hand gently touching your shoulder.

You jumped back: it felt like his touch had burned you.

"I...I need a moment, excuse me," you ducked out through the crowd, only watching the floor, but traveling deeper and deeper into Verns penthouse.

Throwing open the nearest door, you quickly rush inside and slam it shut behind you.

It was an office, whether it was Verns specifically or just for guests you weren't sure. There was a large brown desk to your left with floor to ceiling bookcases lining the wall in front of you and to your right.

You didn't bother to turn on the light, the window behind the desk providing just enough light from nearby buildings.

You started to pace, chewing on your nails.

This was not how the night was supposed to go. You and Leo were supposed to be dates, he had promised to dance all night with you, and you were finally going to discuss...well, whatever it was you both wanted.

You couldn't help the guilt, you had egged him on a little, but you never thought it'd end up like this!

"Y/n?" Donnie's head poked in through the door, he seemed worried. "Are you alright? You looked pretty spooked out there,"

"Yeah, it was just a bit stuffy in there," You waved a dismissive hand, feeling sweat start to drip down your neck.

He nodded, opening the door more and closing it with a light kick of his foot. He came to stand in front of you, a strange smirk on his face as he leaned in and whispered in your ear.

"You sure it's not because you were with Leo when he was drinking?"

Your stomach dropped, your face and neck flushing. "I-Wha....how did you...?"

"He was drunk!" Donnie gave a small chuckle, hooking his thumbs into his suspenders, still leaning down toward your face. "He told me everything,"

"Like, everything, everything?" At his nod, you swallowed hard. You'd be lying if you said you didn't also harbor some feelings toward the purple banded terrapin.

He and Leo had infected your heart and brain, but you never made any moves out of fear. One wrong move would either destroy your relationship or the brothers, and you weren't willing to take the risk: yet.

Your breathing picked up, trying to read his features.

Damn him, and his poker face!

"Are you mad?"

He leaned back, rocking on his heels as he clicked his tongue. "Mad one of us finally made a move? No." He stepped forward, out of instinct you stepped back until your back bumped the bookshelf. "Mad that you kissed him first, a little bit,"

"I...I don't understand," He leaned in, inches away from your face. Even though his hands were still in his suspenders, you felt caged.

He smirked, licking his lips as he leaned in. His lips ghosting your ear as he spoke. "Leo and I know how to share,"

He barely pulled back before you jumped forward, winding your arms around his neck and smashing your lips to his.

He didn't waste a second, one arm pressing into the small of your back and the other entwining his fingers in your hair.

His kisses were hard and passionate, finally letting out all those harbored and stored up feelings.

He pulled you away from the bookcase, his hand moving from your hair to the strap on your outfit.

His fingers dug under the fabric, pulling it down your shoulder, almost ripping the silk as he went.

You gasped. He pulled away, messily kissing down your jaw, then your neck. Placing wet kiss after wet kiss down until he reached when his hand was pushing at your dress strap.

"Donnie," You gasped, feeling his teeth run along your collarbone. He inhaled deeply as he ran his nose up your neck, taking in your scent.

"You smell amazing," He raved, going back in and kissing your swollen lips.

His tongue licked the seam of your lips, and just as you opened, the door swung open.

You and Donnie jumped away from one another, staring wide eyed at an equally shocked Vern.

He had a pretty blonde on his arm and a champagne glass in his hand. Clearly he had the same idea as you two.

He groaned, taking it your appeances. "Really, guys?"

It snapped you out of your daze, pulling up your dress strap and fixing your hair.

Donnie stepped toward Vern, reaching past him to grip the door.

"I'll reimburse you for any broken furniture," He slammed the door in Verns questioning face, locking it, ignoring Verns protests.

He turned back to you. "Wanna see if Verns pure oakwood desk was really worth the money?"

tags: @thelaundrybitch @turtle-babe83 @red-phoenixxx @happymoonangel @sharpwindow @dilucsflame33 @m1dnyt3-w0lf @strawberrycakeblog @mysticboombox @sketch-and-write-lover @sewerninno

[cosmic-kaden]

Well this is new.

Ship: Ronnie x Kaden

Words: 2,084(OHMYGOD WHAT!? No pressure to read holy shitttttt)

cw: Ronnie's pov, oops Ronnie doesn't know how emotions work! D: Mindy and Cliff being goofs lol (No real CWs)

summary: Bobby's sibling is new in town- Place your bets! :3

Quiet, it was always quiet. Maybe that's why they say this is a nice place to be. No excitement of the good or bad variety. Not much to do either, wasn't a bustling city with malls and movie theatres, no concert halls or nightclubs, just a quaint little town.

Ronnie sat, arms crossed over his chest at his desk, staring at the clock as it ticked by, every so often checking his cell phone, reading news from other more exciting places in the world. It's not that he hated it here, he liked that it was quiet, fewer people, fewer crimes but sometimes he wished for something to change. Anything really.

"Hey, did you hear?" Mindy broke the silence in the station as she pulled up a seat at her desk. She pushed up her glasses and sat back in her chair.

"Hear what?" Ronnie asked flatly, his brow raising slightly.

"Bobby's got family living here now." Mindy smiled.

That was the one thing about such a small town, nothing was ever kept private and if it was it didn't stay like that for long. Everyone knew everyone and gossip was a pretty common thing.

"Is that so…" Ronnie glanced up from his phone to look at Mindy and Mindy smiled.

"Yeah- some of us are taking bets."

"Taking bets? On what?" Ronnie asked, once again drawing his attention back to his phone.

"On if whoever has moved here ya know…" Mindy gestures vaguely and Ronnie looks at her with furrowed eyebrows. "Looks….like him"

"That's sort of rude don't you think?" Ronnie is looking at her a little more seriously now, he was never one for gossip and not to mention the subject right now had him wildly uncomfortable.

"I guess it kinda is but hey, what else we got going on. Want in?" Mindy grinned.

"No."

"Do yoooou at least want to go with Cliff and me to introduce ourselves?"

"You mean go and see who won the bet?" Ronnie raised a brow and Mindy sighed.

"….yes"

"Fine." Ronnie simply said, standing to his feet and grabbing his jacket.

The drive to Bobby's shop wasn't far. He owned a little gas station comic shop hybrid, all the local kids went there for junk food and to get their sci-fi kick. Already something was different, there was music loudly blasting from the shop.

"Someone likes it loud," Mindy mumbled as they pulled into the shop.

Cliff, Mindy, and Ronnie got out of the car and trailed inside the tight little store, a quaint, slightly run-down storefront, full of of nostalgia and a holdout against the creeping decay. The shop's sign, "Centerville Comics," flickers with a vintage neon glow, inviting those seeking escape into worlds beyond the unsettling quiet of their own. Inside, the shop is a labyrinth of towering shelves, each one groaning under the weight of comic book history, from dog-eared classics to the latest issues. The lighting is dim, with sporadic beams of sunlight filtering through dust-speckled windows, illuminating the colourful covers

The music was usually some twangy country but today was more instrumental progressive rock… that was new. Ronnie bobbed his head a little as Mindy and Cliff glanced around the store before someone came out from the back of the shop and everyone's eyes landed on them.

Mindy grinned, subtly holding her hand out towards Cliff who Cliff, reluctantly handed her $20. The person emerged to the counter, they had black-blue hair about shoulder length, and long bangs that swept across their eyes, when they brushed the hair from their face their eyes were green.. light green with a darker green ring around it. They adorned an eyebrow piercing in their left eyebrow with purple studs that matched the same ones that were in their lower lip.

Ronnie's mouth went agape for a moment as he sucked in a breath of air. Why did it feel like he had suddenly run a marathon? His heart was beating wildly in his chest? The regular musk of ink and paper scent of the shop was replaced by something else…Flowery? Fruity? Mocha? it was a combination of the three that filled his nostrils, no doubt it was whatever this person was wearing. It was alluring. Ronnie had to swallow thickly and try to compose himself despite looking calm on the outside, his stomach was doing backflips and it only intensified when he saw them flash a toothy smile.

The smile on their face changed to one of concern, however. "Oh shit! Am I too loud!?" They reached for the remote to the sound system and turned it down a bit.

"No, no you're good. We just wanted to stop in and say hello, we heard Bobby had some family visiting and--"

"and ya'll had to rush over to see if I was a skinny-haired nerd too?" They interjected, grinning widely and Ronnie cracked a little smirk that didn't go unnoticed by Cliff.

"I-- we---" Mindy stammered in shock and Cliff looked rather embarrassed.

"It's alright, Bobby told me that it might happen. So who won?"

"Mindy." Cliff thumbed towards her and she shyly smiled.

"So Mindy.." they turned their attention to the older gentlemen.

"Cliff."

"Cliff…" They echoed as they turned towards Ronnie and their eyes flicked up to him.

"Oh, R-Ronnie-" He stammered, a small hitch in his voice as he reached over the case to shake their hand. Why was he so nervous? Again the stammer didn't go unnoticed this time by Mindy and Cliff.

"Kaden, nice to meet you Ronnie~" They smiled sweetly at Ronnie and he felt like his heart was going to explode in his chest yet on the outside he remained his calm and cool self or at least he thought he was.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you. Tell Bobby we said hi" Cliff smiled and turned on his heel.

"Coming Ronnie?" Mindy raised a brow, taking note of how his gaze seemed to be lingering on Kaden.

"Huh?" Ronnie broke his gaze and looked at Mindy.

"Are you coming?"

"Oh- uh-"

"Actually…" Kaden pressed their palms against the glass case as they leaned on it. "Can I borrow him for a bit? He has something I need."

"He does?" Mindy looked at Kaden curiously.

"I do?" Ronnie also looked to Kaden and why was he suddenly feeling nervous?

"Yeah. His height. Can you help me out with those.." Kaden pointed to a stack of boxes "Up there?" They pointed to the shelf that was closest to the ceiling. "Bobby wants to put up some of the new arrival comics but he clearly doesn't believe in owning a step ladder or at least one that I can find in this cluttered mess back here. I know it's an odd request but it seems like not much goes on here so can you spare your deputy for a moment?"

"I dunno, Ronnie? Can you be spared?" Mindy's lips pulled into a half smirk and Ronnie felt his heart sink into his stomach.

"Y-Yeah, no I can absolutely help out if you need it." Ronnie stammered again and Mindy shot him a knowing look.

"Great!" Kaden smiled.

Mindy and Cliff left and as they were outside Mindy offered Cliff another little bet..

"He's smitten."

"I see that."

"I give it a month tops before he crack."

"you're on."

Back inside Kaden motioned Ronnie to come around the counter. "Thanks for the help~" Kaden hummed softly.

"Oh, it's no problem." He replied softly. the look on his face was stoic and he offered a small smile to Kaden and noticed the way they soon followed suit, giving a small smile themselves and there were those butterflies again, slowly fluttering in Ronnie's stomach. He swallowed thickly again.

"Here you are sir~" Kaden chuckled as they went into the box and grathered a pile of comics in their hands. Although they didn't have the greatest grip on them within moments they were scattered across the floor. "Shit!"

Ronnie moved on instinct, squatting down to help with the mess as well as Kaden and within moments their heads collided with one another. Kaden hissed and held their head as did Ronnie.

"Ow!" Kaden exclaimed a small laugh coming from them as they glanced up at Ronnie who was also holding his head.

"Sorry..are you alright?" Ronnie asked as he looked over to see Kaden already staring at him. He took relief in the fact that Kaden was laughing and the sound sent a spark of warmth through his chest that he had never felt before.

"I'm okay..heh are you okay?" Kaden chuckled softly as they stood to their feet, handing Ronnie a bunch of books from up off the floor.

"I'm okay." He spoke softly, just above a whisper.

As Ronnie and Kaden finally straighten up, each holding a portion of the spilt sci-fi comics, the last few books find their way back onto the shelf. The slight bump on his head from their accidental collision is nothing compared to the rapid thumping in his chest. Ronnie can't help but replay the moment over and over in his mind, the soft surprise in Kaden's eyes, the brief touch of their hands. It's ridiculous, he thinks, how a simple accident feels like it's rewired his entire day—

As Ronnie and Kaden finally straighten up, each holding a portion of the spilt sci-fi comics, the last few books find their way back onto the shelf. The slight bump on his head from their accidental collision is nothing compared to the rapid thumping in his chest. Ronnie can't help but replay the moment over and over in his mind, the soft surprise in Kaden's eyes, the brief touch of their hands. It's ridiculous, he thinks, how a simple accident feels like it's rewired his entire day—no, his entire outlook on what he came into the comic shop for.

"Thanks for the help," Kaden says, their voice pulling him back from his daze, a smile playing on their lips. It's casual, the way they say it, but to Ronnie, it feels like a scene straight out of one of these comics—unexpected allies meeting in a twist of fate.

"No problem," Ronnie manages to say, hoping his voice sounds steadier than he feels. "Guess we made quite the team, huh?"

"Yeah, we did," Kaden agrees, their smile broadening, oblivious to the feelings that they've flamed inside Ronnie.

As they stand there, amidst the quiet hum of the shop and Kaden's music that was playing in the background, surrounded by tales of intergalactic adventures and time-travel mishaps, Ronnie finds himself wishing they were characters in one of those stories. It would be easier, maybe, to express how he feels if he could blame it on some cosmic anomaly or a twist of fate written into the stars. They just met after all and it would be weird to just blurt out that he found them attractive, plus that wasn't Ronnie. He was calm and collected at all times…..right?

He takes a moment, watching Kaden's enthusiasm for the comics, the way their eyes light up at certain titles, and he wonders if maybe, just maybe, there's a universe out there where he's brave enough to say, "Hey, I know we just met, and we might be nothing more than two strangers who bonked heads over a pile of comics, but I feel like there's something here. Do you feel it too?"

But he doesn't say any of that. Instead, he tucks those words and feelings away, a secret storyline that no one else gets to read. For now, he's content to bask in the aftermath to hold onto the spark of something new and thrillingly unknown.

"See you around?" he ventures, a tentative offer to extend this moment into something more a chance to see them again hopefully, less head-bonking encounters though.

"I'd like that," Kaden responds softly, the smile on their face ever-present. If Ronnie was paying more attention to Kaden than to his own inner thoughts and feelings he may have noticed the faint tint of pink that spread across Kaden's cheeks.

"Okay, well…see you later then."

"Bye, It was nice to meet you, Ronnie."

"Y-You too.." Ronnie stammered and was mentally kicking himself, he wasn't like this. He wasn't someone who allowed strong emotions get the better of him and yet here he was, heart racing and words faltering. He turned on his heel and headed out of the shop and allowed himself for the briefest moment to feel what he was feeling. He smiled fully to himself, something new and exciting was finally happening in this quiet little town.

Tag list: @ama-ships || @heatobrienswife || @kylars-princess || @roboraindrop || @lysandreslittlechatot || @dragonsmooch

Absolutely NO PRESSURE to read this. I didn't think I could make a 2000 word fic but hi? hello????? If you read it fucking thank you!? you're literally a rockstar and I'd die for you??? <3

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

thin skinned (skinsuit'd staffbot reader x Sun/Moon angst, no comfort)

“Y- you don’t understand,” your voice wavered and stuttered with static, your voice box protesting so much use, “what it. Was like, for me.”

“What is there to POSSIBLY understand??” Sun’s voice came through this time, high and nearly shrill with indignation, revulsion, outrage. “What could possibly have happened to you to excuse this!”

You shut your eyes, feeling your shoulders rattle. You wanted to shout, or throw something. Was this anger? It was hot, and it hurt, and it made every part of you tense. Was this what it was to be angry? Or... was this another kind of fear? You abruptly turned around to face them properly, trying hard to look them in the eye. Your hands were in fists, you realized- both the one that was bare, your brittle, metallic skeleton grinding against itself slightly, and the one still wearing a glove. The metal of your stripped fingers cut into one another, making the joints ache.

“You-“ your voice broke, and you had to wait a spirit second before the voice would work again, “you can’t understand anything about how- how scared I was-s!”

You grabbed at the neck of the coat you were wearing, feeling suffocated by it. Your voice box warbled and strained, letting out a staticky cough.

“You didn’t have to be afraid of b-being dismantled. You were loved. A-A-And I? I was nothing.”

Unable to stand the look they were giving you any longer, you whipped around and left the room, escaping to the fire exit. You grabbed fistfuls of your hood and pulled it down over your face, feeling the fabric tear slightly. You sat heavily, leaning against the railing and listening to the rain pitter-patter against the old metal staircase. For the first time in a long time, you found yourself wishing you didn't feel anything. You hated this, this hot, scalding feeling that made your fingers curl, that made you want to- to hit them, and blame them, and shout that it was all their fault, all their fault, ALL THEIR FAULT,

You pressed the thoughts down, down, down, tried to stifle them as much as you were able. You pulled yourself up by the cold, wet railing. Your legs rattled with the movement- when did you get so... tired? You shuffled back into your apartment. You didn't look at them as you walked across the room to flip the light switch. It was dark near instantly; your eyes had to adjust. The night-light plugged in next to the workbench they were sat on glowed, warm and yellow. You turned your back to them, hesitated.

"I'm, Going. To charge for the night. I'll s-see you, in the morning."

There was a long pause, then you started your walk to the closet you had converted into a sort-of bedroom for yourself- it was where you kept your clothes, and your make-shift charging station was there, anyway. It was the last sliver of comfort you had in this place right now.

You had crossed the room and grabbed the doorknob when they spoke.

"Goodnight."

For a second you considered not answering, in letting them sit and fester in your cold, angry silence. But you were tired. You didn't want to keep this up. You felt your shoulders sag.

"G-g-good night."

"Sleep tight," said Sun's voice. It was tiny and kind of mumbly, as if he hadn't meant to say it out loud. You felt a chuckle wobble out of you.

"D-d-d-don't let th-the bed bugs-s bite."

[egopocalypse]

Haunting

Whumptober Day 10: "Can't you see that you're lost without me?"

No matter where Chase goes, the shadow follows.

He's ditched his car and three others in the last day, driving the gas tanks down to their last dregs in his haste to get away. He doesn't have a destination in mind other than away, yet with each mile down the unforgiving highway, the chill down his spine rankles him even more.

He slaps his hand over the back of his neck, like the sting would make the crawling fade away.

"There aren't any more cameras," he mutters under his breath. "I'm safe now. It's fine."

But how can he be so sure? Ever since those freaky scientists guys were murdered, he's had to hop between towns, losing the trail of whatever people or things want to find him. He hasn't heard from Echo since he escaped IRIS. He has no idea what the public knows about him. (Would IRIS send out a manhunt? Do people think he's a criminal?) He has no sense of where to go or what to do but survive.

Why couldn't this have been a misunderstanding? Why didn't they let him go home?

What does Anti want from him?

The ghost of a breath sends a shiver down his spine, and he cranks the heat in the current old beater to the max. It sputters out a smog of hot diesel from the exhaust; his face screws up at the stench.

He's been in this rustbucket truck for too long. Hopefully the more inland he goes, the easier it'll be to find a rural town to swap cars. The sooner he can find a gas station without CCTV, let alone a WATCHR, the better.

Except the beater doesn't get him that far.

Something rattles under the hood, and a plume of smoke sparks and slithers out through the cracks. Chase curses and slams the steering wheel and pulls over three miles before the next exit, then grabs his meager belongings and sprints away as he hears a resounding boom and a rush of heat scorches his back.

It exploded. The truck fucking exploded.

With his heart in his throat, Chase reaches for his back pocket and nearly falls over in relief. The picture is still there. Even after everything, he hasn't lost it. He can't.

"For someone trying to avoid me, you put on quite the show."

Chase lurches and goes for the gun in his waistband, only to jolt when he comes up empty. It must still be in the center console, melting into a mangled mess with the rest of the scorching hot metal in front of them.

His hands flex and curl into fists. He doesn't want to turn around, to face the nightmare ruining his life, but if he doesn't, it would give it all the opportunities to stab him or snap his neck, like it had with the bodies it dropped right before they started this race.

"How are you here?" Chase asks. "How do you keep finding me?"

Anti's eyes light up with an eerie white glow. "Do you think it's hard?" it says. "I've followed you from the first time you called my name, the first time you saw this face. You've only been able to run because I wanted to chase."

Chase's breath sharpens. There truly is no getting away, is there? He's crossed half the country in the past few days, and yet no matter where he goes, Anti or IRIS will always find him.

"Why me?" He hates the pleading strain in his voice, but it never seems to fall away. "Why do you want me?"

Anti grins. "You still know nothing, don't you? Those people wanted to use you, but they didn't put in the effort to teach you."

Flames spark in Chase's chest, and despite the autumnal chill, the heat from the truck fire drips sweat down his back.

"Teach me what? I want some fucking answers."

"What will you pay to get them?"

Chase balks. "Huh?"

"You heard me," Anti says. "There's a price for answers, Chase--a price for every choice you made. What will you pay to earn the answers you want?"

He bites his cheek. His wallet got confiscated the second IRIS got their hands on him. The now-unusable gun had been picked off the corpse of an agent that Anti killed on its rampage through the facility. His phone and whiskey were lost before IRIS nabbed him. He has nothing of any value to give.

Anti's smile cools. Those dark, dead eyes bore into Chase's skull.

"Stubbornness won't save you, Chase. Refuse, and you'll stay on the run, forever looking over your shoulder until the maggots put you down. You're a danger, and if you're no use to them, you won't survive. I won't save you a third time."

Chase chokes. "A third?"

Anti's voice lowers, regaining some of the rasp it once had, before the gaping wound on his neck disappeared without a sign of its existence. "Make your choice."

The picture burns a hole in Chase's pocket. Other than the tattered, filthy clothes streaked with blood, dirt, and sweat, it's the only thing he has left to his name. The only tie he has to the person he once was. The only sign that before IRIS, before Anti, Chase had a life. He had something to return to, to live for.

What use is a memento of the last light of his life when it's flickered out?

He pulls out the polaroid and burns the image into his retinas, searing into his memory the bright, joyful, loving faces of his family. He kisses the image as a final goodbye, then offers it like a lifeline.

"It's all I have."

Anti studies the picture, studies every inch of Chase's face, and studies the hand reaching out to him. He slips the picture away and clamps a hand over Chase's.

"You made the right choice, Chase. Welcome home."

@seaswalllow @asteriuszenith @pixie-in-trebleland