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dollslayer · 3 years

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The Stand-In

CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Stood up by your date and stranded in one of the nicest restaurants in town, Bucky Barnes just can't let that stand.

Warnings: slight angst, smut, oral (m & f receiving), deepthroating, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it !), if I missed anything let me know!

W/C: 3,807

A/N: I wrote this for @simsadventures 6k mixed adventure challenge (Congrats!) w/ a restaurant setting and the line "If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice". If you like it please reblog and comment and tell me what you think! Cheers!

p.s. - Come check out my other fics or find me on AO3 (same name)!

Main Masterlist

7 PM

Your best Jimmy Choos click gingerly as you walk up to the hostess stand at one of the most popular restaurants in Manhattan. He had made the reservation in your name, which you gave to the hostess. She takes a minute to consider you, cocking a brow as she silently clocks your ASOS cocktail dress. You looked chic enough that she could forgive you. Her moment wasn’t lost on you, this part of the Upper West Side was so stuffy so you put on your best.

Feeling slightly self-conscious about your attire you brushed the feeling off quickly. He would be here soon and he’d reassure you how beautiful you look. When you’d met for coffee he’d make you feel so sexy and confident with how sure of himself he was. So when he asked you to dinner at one of the most renowned places in the city and said he wanted to talk tonight you accepted immediately.

“Right this way” the hostess said and broke you out of your self-doubting stupor and guided you towards a some-what secluded table towards the back of the restaurant.

“Here are some menus for you two, if you’d like anything to drink while you wait, your waiter should be here soon”, she sent you an artificial smile and turned on her heel back to the stand.

You picked up a menu and it left you reeling at the prices. You had half a mind to text him and see if he wanted to go somewhere else. Based off of the way he dresses and how he had tipped the barista on your first outing you thought better of it. He’d said he wanted to treat you, so you’ll let him.

7:15 PM

You decided to wait to order anything to drink until he got here, too afraid of the price tag attached to any bottle of wine on the menu.

You took a sip of your water and checked your texts for the second time since sitting down. Still nothing, you didn’t want to text him just yet, you knew he was busy and you didn’t want to seem overbearing. You knew he was a CFO and he’d be coming from the financial district when traffic was insane. You could forgive him. You take another sip of your water hoping it’ll wash all of your doubts away. Besides, it’s not like he’s late-late, he’s like, fashionably late, he’s working-man late.

7:30 PM

Okay, so he’s late-late, don’t panic. Sometimes things happen, he’s only human and this is only your second date.

Your waiter approaches the table again, eyebrows raised expectantly at you. The smug look on his face says he’s thinking what you’re too afraid to.

You order yourself a $25 martini. Your waiter promises to return and you finish off your water.

Time to craft the perfect text that says ‘Hey I’m here, where tf are you?’ without actually asking where the fuck he’s at. You tap away nervously on your phone.

‘Hey, I’ve got a table towards the back, closer to the end of the bar’ Perfect.

7:45 PM

You’re still sitting solo at the table, you feel the beginnings of humiliation creep into your features. You feel warm, your brows form a seemingly permanent crease of worry, and you are trying everything in your power to suppress the tears you felt building up.

You don’t make eye contact with your waiter when he stops by again, playing it off like you were sending a text. But you tell him you’ll be right back so that he doesn’t give up your table.

You walk quickly to the bathroom hoping no one will notice your trembling face. You feel just like a middle schooler that got dumped at the dance. You make it to a bathroom stool and dial your best friend, Wanda.

“Is everything okay? You’re supposed to be out with your mystery date aren’t you?” She had answered almost immediately.

You sniffled a bit and took a shaky inhale. “Y-yes, our reservation was for 7 and he put it in my name, I texted him once already but I don’t wanna seem too overbearing for a second date, y’know? But something feels off. I don’t know, maybe I’m being crazy.”

“You’re definitely not being crazy, it sounds fishy to me. If he doesn’t answer in five minutes I want you to leave and come straight over. I’ll have white Russians and Drag Race waiting for you” Wanda always knew just what to say, just how to make you feel. You were grateful for her.

You sighed into the receiver. “Thanks, babe, I’ll let you know what happens either way”. You hung up and grabbed some toilet paper to dab at the corners of your eyes. You knew you’d need an extra minute to compose yourself as you faced the truth.

He’s not coming, he’s not texting me back, he probably regretted setting the date which is why he put the reservation in my name, I won’t be hearing from him again. Just pay your tab, smile, and leave. You got this.

7:52 PM

Checking your appearance in the mirror one last time you let out a final sigh and push open the door back to the dining room. Your walk to your table begins to slow when you notice someone is sitting at your table. A rather tall, unfamiliar someone.

Did the waiter really give away the table? I’ve been gone all of 7 minutes! What do I even say to this stranger? Should I just grab my bag and go? Hopefully it’s still there.

Your final steps towards your seat are nervous and uneven. The man in the chair opposite yours must’ve heard you and he faces you. You’re struck with an unfamiliar but extremely handsome face. The look of surprise must be tangible because he laughs and slight wrinkles form at the edges of his eyes. Who the fuck is this guy? Well he hasn’t stolen my purse so there’s that.

“I-” You lean over to grab your purse when you’re cut off mid-apology.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how it is at work. Sit down, I ordered a bottle of wine for the table”. The man said.

You sat down slowly and felt so stiff and uncomfortable in the chair. Were you being pranked? Was this part of some very elaborate joke? Before you could ask any of those questions the man reached across the table and grabbed your hand.

“If you could just hold my hand and be quiet, that would be nice” He said as his thumb grazed your knuckles. You were slightly stunned by his boldness. You complied, if only out of shock and hoped he’d explain himself a little better or let you go in time for you to make an exit.

He leaned in closer to you, to anyone else it would’ve looked like an intimate moment during any normal date. He looked you in the eyes while he kept hold of your hand and you realized how warm he was, how clear his eyes were. You took a deep breath through your nose and tried to play it cool.

“I’ve been at the bar for a while now, it seems like whichever idiot decided to stand you up made a grave mistake.” Your brows pinched together and he continued, “I was with a friend talking business but he left and you look like you needed to be saved from the incident so here I am. James Barnes, but you can call me Bucky.”

You were unsure what to do with the information just given to you. Yes, it would’ve been embarrassing to pay your tab and leave alone after sitting there for almost an entire hour by yourself, but it was also embarrassing that this man had noticed and you certainly didn’t need anyone looking at you like some damsel in distress.

You caught yourself from scoffing completely and schooled your features. “I… appreciate that you’d do that for me but I don’t want anyone’s sympathy, especially not a date.” You tried to pull away when his hand gently squeezed yours.

“Please- I- I didn’t mean to make it sound like I’m doing this out of pity. Whatever happened here is unfortunate, yes. But you’re also very beautiful and you’re here by yourself so why not ‘shoot my shot’ as I believe the kids are saying these days? Think of me like a stand-in for the other guy, but y’know, better” he replied playfully.

A very brief moment of contemplation was solidified by your lack of notifications on your phone. Why not? He’s good looking and he’s doing you a favor.

You had to at least afford a small chuckle at that. “So ‘Bucky’, huh? Well I don’t have any cool nicknames but you can call me by my first name.” You gave it to him and he repeated it back to you, a wry smile on his face.

8:05 PM

Still no texts from him but you did text Wanda to tell her everything worked out and there’d be details to come. She’d go into full on mama bear mode if you hadn’t updated her.

“So, Bucky, what do you do? Do you live here in Manhattan?” You asked before taking a sip of your wine (which you didn’t dare check the price of per bottle).

“Brooklyn, actually, but a lot of my business is here. Have you heard of Buchannan hospitality?” He asked.

Your brain snagged itself on that name. That sounds familiar? Where have I seen that? Oh wait! Didn’t you see him in the Forbes ‘30 under 30’ list last year?

You’d meant to answer him but unfortunately all that came out was a confused “Forbes?” at which he laughed a little bit and nodded.

“Yeah you might’ve seen me there. I own some hotels and lounges around Manhattan and Brooklyn. What do you do?” He had brushed off his accolades so quickly, wanting instead to know about you, this random girl that had been stood up.

Shit, your mid-level marketing job doesn’t stand up to this in the least. You took a sip of the wine and answered him, explaining you were second in command of your small company’s marketing department.

He seemed genuinely intrigued and you two ended up talking business and swapping office and university disaster stories until the main course arrived. You dug into your meal, savoring the taste and relishing in the unusual turn of events.

8:47 PM

The plates have been cleared away and the wine glasses refilled. Bucky was proving to be great company and as oddly as it started you were grateful to be sitting here with him. You’d nearly forgotten about your would-be date and decided to check your phone one last time.

You had 11 unread texts, 10 of them from Wanda wanting a play-by-play and one of them from the man that had stood you up. You opened it and sighed. ‘Can’t make it tonight, baby, promise to make it up to you soon’.

You scoffed to yourself. He’s not gonna say where he’s been? Or even say sorry? Douche.

You put your phone away and looked back up to Bucky who was eyeing you with playful curiosity.

“Lemme guess, that was the guy who was supposed to be seeing you’s sorry ass excuse followed by a flimsy apology” He said as he drank from his water glass.

“You’re 1 for 3. It was him but he didn’t apologize or try to explain himself. Should’ve known when he put the reservation under my name and not his that something might be up and when he wasn’t there on time.” You said more to yourself than to Bucky.

“What’s his name?” Bucky asked.

“His name’s Brock Rumlow,” Bucky’s expression changed just slightly at this. “I think he works at some firm in the financial district. We only ever went out the once before this so I don’t really remember.” You explained. “What? What’s that look for? Please don’t tell me you know him”.

“Sorry to say that I do. Sorry to say I know his wife too” He said a little more quietly.

You felt humiliated all over again, the same feelings that you experienced in this very seat not an hour ago still had you by the gills it would seem.

Bucky reached for your hand again, running the pads of his thumb across the ridges of your knuckles in an attempt to calm you.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I didn’t mean to make you upset, but you definitely ought to know that Rumlow is no one that deserves your time” Bucky said in earnest.

His words were nice but you’d need some time to get over this embarrassment on your own. In the meantime, you really were enjoying Bucky’s company so you decided to let it distract you.

Bucky flagged down a waiter, signaling him to bring the check. He took one glance at it and set his card inside. As you reached for the bill with your own card in hand he gave it to the waiter before you could even get a peek. He was so nonchalant when he looked at you.

“Don’t even think about it. So tell me, is the night over or are you game to spend a little more time on me?” He asked. This is the second time he’d been dominant but kind in one breath. You weren’t entirely sure how you felt but you didn’t dislike it.

If you went home you’d just be wallowing in your own self pity, or you’d go to Wanda’s and do it but if you go with Bucky you could delay that feeling for a bit longer. Out with a stranger it is.

“Where to?” You asked him.

9:59 PM

A private booth on the top floor of what he said was one of his favorite lounges turned out to be where to. You were relieved to find there was no dancing, as you had two left feet and half a bottle of wine by now. When you got to the booth you stuck with water, knowing you’d need to get yourself home.

Bucky had insisted on one glass of champagne ‘to chance encounters’ he’d said. You agreed but just one. You found yourself closer to him while you talked, your knees touched and his hand found its way to your leg. It didn’t dare to move higher up, just staying there like a comforting weight almost while you conversed.

You were rambling on about the time you and your cousin took your dad’s car for a joyride when you were 14. You were laughing the whole thing off when you realized he wasn’t laughing with you. You had worried for a moment that you’d bored him when you saw the soft yet intense look in his eye and tilted your head with curiosity.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that right?” He didn’t let you answer as he shifted closer. “I’d like to kiss you, is that alright with you?”

Oh. You were caught off guard by the abruptness of his question. Suddenly shy, all you could do was give a small nod and bite your lip in anticipation. His full lips were soft and almost as warm as his hands, which were holding you in an embrace. One of your hands had made their way to his hair and one on the outside of his lower thigh. You sighed as you kissed him back.

It was soft but insistent, things became a little more passionate as you swiped your tongue into his mouth and you both let out a small moan. You didn’t want to stop kissing Bucky, it just felt right.

He finally broke the kiss as one of his hands still rested at the nape of your neck. You were breathless, this man had kissed the daylights out of you. If he could do that with his tongue imagine what else he could do with it. You were both panting softly, sorting through what to make of things and where to go from here.

“I don’t know about you, but I wanna keep doing that, but this might not be the best place for it. You can say no if you want to, and you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but I’d love to take you home and treat you right” He said with unwavering eye contact.

Well how on Earth could I say no to that even if I wanted to? Wait doesn’t he live in Brooklyn?

“Let’s go back to mine, probably closer” You said. He nodded in agreement and sent a text to his driver to come pick you both up.

10:40 PM

You did indeed find out what else that tongue of his could do, you were finding out right now. He had made you cum once from his tongue alone already but he added to thick fingers and started pumping them into you, making a scissoring motion that hit you just right. You arched your back and pushed his face in deeper as you cried out, signaling your second orgasm.

Completely drunk in the afterglow of it, you wanted to keep this feeling forever. You wanted to show him what you could do too. You got up albeit with a little shakiness and hovered over him. You kissed his neck and slid your hand down to meet his groin. He was still in his briefs and you pulled the elastic band down with ease.

His cock sprang free and you had to hide the slight surprise you felt looking at the sheer size of him. You were always told you were good in bed so time to really put yourself to the test. You kissed your way down to his pelvis and your hand started working him. Staring back up at him you maintained eye contact while you kissed the dab of pre-cum that pooled at the head of his dick.

He shuddered but you kept staring at him, and in what you have to say was a pretty proud moment for you, you held his gaze while you took him slowly and in one go. You closed your eyes and moaned, feeling him in the back of your throat.

“Shit, oh my god. Are you gonna…?” He was lost for words so you decided to answer him by getting to work. You started slowly, up and down, letting yourself get used to his size and reminding yourself to breathe through your nose and stay relaxed.

His moans were growing louder and his breathing heavier, you knew he was close and you were wondering if he was going to let you finish him. You got your answer when he pulled you off of him by the hair.

“As bad as I want you to finish what you started, I wanna feel you first.” He panted.

“So what’s stopping you?” You asked playfully. A small shriek escaped you as he flipped you under him. He lined himself up with your entrance and thrust in slowly. You could tell he was using a lot of restraint but that was quickly forgotten as you remembered how big he was. You suddenly appreciated the slow pace.

As he became fully sheathed inside of you you let out a loud moan that was quickly silenced by his lips on yours. A few more small thrusts and he was nearly fucking your cervix. You felt unbelievably full.

“Had no idea how talented that mouth was of yours, doll. Trying to make me cum without getting to fuck you though? Now that’s just cruel. I think you need to pay for that, don’t you?” He asked playfully as his thrusts became a little harder and forceful.

You could only nod and moan as he picked up his pace. Your hands clung to his shoulders for dear life and you whimpered and keened while he railed you into your mattress. Finally getting used to the feeling you reached down to play with your clit.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?” He asked in between grunts.

Your eyes rounded and you shook your head.

“I wanna be the one to touch you. Make you cum. Only me.” He forced out as he replaced your fingers with his. He made tight, quick circles around your clit but didn’t let up on his pace as he fucked you closer and closer to a third orgasm.

“Your pussy’s making it fuckin’ impossible for me to hold out any longer, need you to cum, sweetheart. Cum all over my fuckin’ dick.” His words sent you right over the edge and you did as you were asked.

Not two seconds later he cried out and emptied himself inside of you, sending a few final pushes into you before taking himself out and dropping down on his side.

You leaned over and kissed him with what little breath you two had left. Your sweat mixed together but you didn’t mind.

His hands provided that comforting weight as he brought one to your shoulder and the other to your hip. He kissed the tip of your nose and watched you begin to drift off to sleep. He could probably use the rest himself and decided to close his eyes for a bit.

9:30 AM

You woke up in a half empty bed, but before you could let yourself be too disappointed you heard the sound of your shower turning off. You padded down to the bathroom and opened the door to find Bucky toweling off. He gave you a lopsided grin.

“Good mornin’, I would’ve asked you to join me but you looked so peaceful I didn’t wanna wake you.” He explained. “If you’re not sick of me, do you maybe wanna grab some breakfast?”

You shook your head and reached past him to turn the shower back on.

“No way. I make the best pancakes and as a thank you for everything last night, I insist on making some for you.” You smiled up at him, hopeful he’d agree.

“Well I hope you know what you’re up against, I’m a very insatiable man.” He joked back.

You hit him with a washcloth and laughed. “Oh believe me I know. Gimme 15 and I’ll be right out.”

He nodded and closed the door behind him. You let your mind wander back to last night as you washed off the sweat that lingered from the night before.

10:15 AM

You set down two plates stacked mile-high with pancakes and bacon. You held your coffee mug up to his and clinked against it.

“To chance encounters” You said with a smile.

#bucky barnes x reader #CEO!Bucky Barnes #ceo!bucky barnes x reader #modern AU #marvel fic #marvel x reader #fluff #little bit of angst

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sandsorghum · 3 years

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JJK Week Day 1 - Sports AU

Prompt by @jujutsukaisenweek

A/N: Phew, just made it within the hour! I'm not great with sports, so I had to really rack my brain for this one. It's pure fluff and overall I'm pretty glad with how it turned out ^^

I ended up going with a rather niche sport because maybe I just wanted an excuse to put Nanami in jodhpurs, sue me. Though the visuals indicate Polo, I leave it to your imaginations whether it's Dressage, Horse Racing or Jumping! Indulgent sexy, expensive EquestriaNanamin. Enjoy!

WC: 3.9K

Warnings: None, unbeta'd though

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Humour

_______

"Kaito, good morning! Did you rest well?"

As usual, Kaito ignores you, merely releases a huff through his nostrils and stamps his feet.

"Ok, ok I'll get a move on. It's so stuffy, you think I like spending that much time around here?"

Kaito jerks his head to the side with a snort, impatiently indicating you should start your duties for the day. You feel his gaze, somehow both bored and boring into your back as you amble over to the corner where all the equipment is kept.

"I had that dream again last night, of your friend," you remark casually as you pick up a broom and dustpan. Kaito grunts noncommittally, familiar with where the story's headed as you start to sweep.

"Felt like a movie in slo-mo, even though he executed each round in typical, flawless fashion. And maintaining his composure out there in sweltering weather too, it must get hot under that helmet but gosh - the way those blonde locks gleam under the sun," you muse, leaning on your broom. Kaito looks down his nose at you. With scorn, you're sure.

"What? I can't help it," you sigh, starting to bustle around again, "he's almost as pretty as you, which is fitting I suppose. Though these dreams are kinda driving me crazy, what do you think I should do?"

Kaito contributes nothing to the conversation of course, because he is, in fact, a horse. And couldn't care less about human matters, especially those of the heart. It seems he does the equine equivalent of a nonchalant shrug as he lowers his head to his feed bucket.

Well, it's not like you expected him to understand anyway, but at least the animal was a pair of ears that would endure your idle chatter, in a way most people capable of comprehending human language wouldn't.

Dumping the contents of the dustpan into the bin, you continue, "Actually, you performed pretty splendidly that afternoon as well! You two are finally starting to get along huh?"

Kaito nickers softly, and you wonder if it's an indication of assent, till you peer into the trough.

"Oh, you want more oats? I'm not supposed to give you so much for breakfast though, they say you're particularly food motivated..."

There's a rustling sound as Kaito tosses his mane petulantly and you laugh, reaching out your hand to pat the creature's thick, strong neck

"Ok, ok you already smelled them on me huh? Just don't tell anyone." You pull a Pink Lady out of your pocket, presenting it on your open palm. Kaito draws a giggle from you as his velveteen lips tickle your hand.

"Fine, I'll keep this a secret but in exchange you gotta give me some advice, Kaito. I don't wanna be kept up by thoughts of your handsome friend, how can I get a better night's rest-"

"You might try some chamomile tea."

Startled by the sudden voice, you drop the half eaten fruit, having the sense to nudge it under some loose hay behind your heels. Kaito huffs in irritation as his sweet snack disappears, his head dipping behind the stall gate to chase it.

"M-Mr Nanami? What- what are you doing here? Practice doesn't start for another hour."

"Two hours actually," he says drily. He strides toward you and your eyes are drawn to the shapely curves of his calves accentuated by the shin-high leather riding boots. Your gaze quickly flits up over the taut seams along his strong thighs highlighted by slim-fitted khakis (it wouldn't do for him to notice your eyes lingering just below that belt buckle.) You also notice Nanami isn't wearing his typical blazer today, meaning the way the buttons of his Oxford shirt strain against that muscled chest is on full display before you.

The smooth swell of fabric comes to a stop directly in front of you, and you hear the sonorous bass reverberate from somewhere deep within those plush pectorals.

"I thought I might catch the criminal who was making my steed so pudgy."

You wrench your eyes from Nanami's chest, instantly regretting it as you meet his stern gaze in those coffee brown irises, a dark-roast arabica scrutinizing your guilty expression and how you gulp down any excuses.

"I-I'm sorry, sir," you stammer, opting for a straightforward demonstration of remorse, but the corners of his mouth only twitch further down.

"If he puts on more weight, that means at least another hour of exercise - and who do you think has to be the one responsible for making him canter around in the hot sun?"

He shakes his head as you stumble over another apology, caught in your lungs as you abruptly catch a whiff of his cologne when he bends past you to snatch up the discarded fruit, your brain short-circuiting on an aroma of verbena, crisp linens and just a hint of basil.

"Now who could be such a careless criminal, leaving their evidence out in the open?" Nanami frowns at the apple core he has pinched by the stem between thumb and forefinger, examining it with forensic focus.

You snatch it back to stuff it in your pocket, mumbling, "I don't do it daily and it was just going to be the one, I swear-"

Your sentence gets cut off by a distinct thump as another apple, this time green in colour, drops from your pocket in your haste to hide the proof of your original misdemeanor. You feel both you and Nanami's gaze track the fruit as it rolls to a stop by his ankle.

There's a prolonged moment of silence before your voice cracks it, laced with shame. "I - that one's mine, I was saving it to eat later."

You stoop to swiftly retrieve the Granny Smith, deliberately ignoring the way Nanami stiffens when your shoulder inadvertently brushes against his thigh on your way back up.

You dust it off against your shirt, taking an exaggeratedly large bite.

"Mmhhh, yep, I just love apples of all kinds," you declare, willing your tears not to spill past the edges of your ducts as the sour flesh bursts across your taste buds.

"Well, that makes two of us here then," Nanami calmly delivers his observation as he plucks the first apple from your hand, turning to give it to Kaito who eagerly finishes it.

Perhaps three, he thinks to himself as he watches you from the corner of his eye, valiantly chomping your way through the unpleasantly tart apple, wholly committed to your fib while he discretely admires the iridescent twin trails tracked across your face, one of a single tear gliding across your cheek, and the other of the juice glistening as it dribbles past your lips down your chin.

"Perhaps we'd better get rid of that evidence." He stretches an open palm toward you, expectant. "Your breath will smell of apples."

You chuckle, "Nobody's gonna get close enough for tha-"

Suddenly you feel the texture of leather clasped against your cheek, a gloved thumb brushing at the corner of your eyes and a forefinger swiping against your lower lip, causing you to gasp aloud. Shocked, you drop the apple into his waiting hand.

"You're being plenty obvious in other ways, young lady," Nanami remarks, inspecting the fruit, turning it around. Then, he takes a cautious nibble, directly over where your mouth had been molded across its flesh, moments ago. He grimaces as acidity invades his senses, squinting at you with one eye open as your jaw drops wide.

"You genuinely enjoy this variety too?"

"Um...not gonna lie, some are better than others," you admit.

"Well, good thing we have someone who can appreciate apples of any species then." Somehow the timbre of Nanami's chuckle invites just as much warmth to flood your cheeks as his grazing touch had earlier.

Kaito releases a pleased huff, delighted by his master's unexpected generosity.

"Sorry about er, the extra exercise he'll have to do later."

Nanami dismisses you with a wave of his hand, lowering it to affectionately rub between his horse's ears.

"Kaito's supposed to be on a diet, as you well know. Or are you perhaps new around here?"

You shake your head. "No, I started about half a year ago. I just transferred over from the evening shift."

"Ah, hence the late nights. You must still be adjusting."

"Sort of," you say sheepishly, scarlet returning in a riptide as you regard the true source of your sleeplessness gazing at you with an indiscernible expression.

"Actually, uh, you weren't out there listening for long, were you?"

"Just long enough to catch you bribing my partner and skiving off work." Nanami raises a brow. "Is there something else I should know?"

"N-no, just er...Kaito's stools were a little firmer than usual?"

You want to smack yourself - did you just really resort to discussing manure with the most expensive smelling man you've encountered?

But instead of the quizzical or disgusted expression you anticipate, a slightly more serious one settles over his face.

"I see, I'll bring it up with his vets. Thank you for telling me, and for taking such good care of him."

You beam, a sense of pride bubbling up within you. "Of course, it's my job, which I had better get back to - before you make a complaint to my superiors." You quip, sauntering to the back of the stables.

You glance behind you, surprised to see him follow you while rolling his sleeves up, revealing forearms flexing with thick tendons and braided steel.

"Sir?"

"Allow me to assist you," he explains, broad fingers curling around a pitchfork.

"Mr Nanami, I couldn't possibly. I promise I can manage fine, despite what you've seen - or heard - of my work ethic."

"I have a couple of hours to kill, remember?" He hoists a hay bale to the side, biceps bulging beneath his shirt, the strong lines of his sternum arching prominent for a moment. Somehow, all the excuses have perished in your throat.

The two of you work wordlessly, efficiently, like this for a while, till you meet back up at Kaito's stall, grasping the animal's bedding beneath your arms. After depositing it on the floor, you watch Nanami fasten straps of the saddle around his steed with practiced ease, movements mesmerizing in their effortless sequence.

"Adjust his reins for me, please," he requests, not looking up from his task. You comply, worn leather snaking through your palms as you feed it through loops and buckles.

"You're rather likeable, I think."

You clutch the reins, caught off guard by the random comment.

"E-excuse me?"

Nanami walks around to Kaito's head, playing with his mane as he stands near you.

"I've been with this guy for the past seven years, and haven't seen him warm up to any stranger as fast as he has with you. So, he likes you."

"He likes them apples," you joke with a wink at Nanami, whose lip twitches.

He shakes his head, "Somehow I doubt it's just that. Even for me, it took three years before he allowed me to develop a bond. With an abundance of sugar cubes. So, you must be something special."

Nanami leans toward you, peering deep into your eyes.

"R-rein it in?"

You see perplexity, then embarrassment, descend over his features at your reaction, as Nanami quickly glances away.

"I - I meant, the reins. Did you want me to take them in any further than this?"

"Oh." Nanami examines the tension of the straps with a light tug before nodding at you, leaving them in your hands as he heads out to open the gates beyond the paddock.

You lead Kaito out of his stall, waiting patiently for Nanami to return. When he does, he has a pair of helmets in his hands. You look at him, puzzled, as he holds one out to you.

"We have to exercise him, to make up for earlier," a small smile lines Nanami's lips and you feel your heart race.

"Sorry, I think I lost you after we."

Nanami exhales amusement through his nose at your apparent obtuseness.

"You're the one responsible for fattening him up recently, aren't you? Besides, Kaito will burn more calories with the weight of two on him. Plus, you're already wearing jodhpurs."

"I - I don't know if it's a good idea, we aren't all that familiar-"

"It's fine. He trusts you, I can tell." Nanami gets down on one knee to assist you, before glancing up and hesitating, as if something's just occurred to him. "Unless - what you said just now - 'we aren't all that familiar', you meant...us?"

It's the first time he's spoken so haltingly, all assurance vanished. From this angle, with Nanami knelt before you in an uncomfortable position, an even more uncomfortable fuchsia tint dawning on his face, you see an unbearably adorable anxiousness cloud his eyes.

"You know, I mentioned Kaito's poop earlier," you remark, taking the helmet and snapping its clasps beneath your chin. You see Nanami's brows furrow at this apparent non-sequitur, even as you note the relief pooling in his gaze as you accept his suggestion.

"So I'm definitely doing this out of pure concern for your horse's health," you declare, ignoring the tantalizing prospect of Nanami's thighs and the palms crossed above them. Instead, you slip your foot into the stirrup and launch your other leg up over the saddle in one fluid motion.

Nanami's expression of astonishment melts into admiration with a wry smile as he says, "Maybe one rider's enough today. You're sure you've not mounted my horse before?"

You smirk, "Is that supposed to be some kind of innuen-oh!"

Kaito kicks up a front hoof, suddenly impatient, and you gasp, clutching desperately at the pommel to prevent tipping too far back. Nanami merely chuckles as your composure shatters. Still, your death grip on dignity matches the one you have on the reins as you mutter, "Look, this unnecessary regimen was your idea ok? If Kaito's going on any joyrides, you'd better be the one in the hot seat."

You scooch forward in the saddle, glancing pointedly at Nanami who simply shakes his head with a faintly amused smile, slapping his horse's rump as he remarks, "Steady on Kaito, let's be gentle. It's her first time after all."

You squeak in protest as the impact of Nanami's large hand sends a sharp jolt that you can feel, even through the saddle. Thankfully, Kaito doesn't take it as a cue to bolt, staying still save for the flick of his tail at your companion to encourage him to hurry up, while Nanami leisurely fits the helmet over his head, obscuring his golden halo.

At 17 hands high, Kaito's an imposing beast, you're sure he'll make a prize stallion someday. Centuries of strength and power radiate from his back, legends of an ancient wilderness and vast plains pump through his veins, as you feel the thermal flex of thoroughbred muscles between your thighs - but even all this doesn't distract from a much more immediate heat suddenly molding itself against the small of your back, bracketing your own thighs, hips flushed tight to your own.

You attempt to suppress a shudder even as warm hands settle over your own, dwarfing them. And then Nanami's voice, much gentler than it has any right to be, rasps by your ear in a warm gust of air.

"Shall we?"

You nod, and Nanami clicks his tongue, signalling his steed to start off with a quick trot, hooves swiftly picking up speed as Kaito responds to some deep-seated yearning and instinct to roam free.

Everything is overwhelming, the jolt of your bodies against each other with every forward rocking motion of the horse, Nanami's steady, soothing grasp over your white knuckles, the not unkind chuckle as he strokes a calloused thumb over them in a bid to get you to relax and enjoy the breeze that picks up as Kaito launches into a full canter. It brings with it the tangle of your sweat, Nanami's scent and the creature's musk, combining into a heady aroma that has you feeling slightly dizzy. Distantly, you're aware of the man directly behind you (it feels like every fibre of your being is straining not to grind your ass against his crotch in this position) trying to make conversation, asking about your entry into the esoteric equestrian world. So you tell him your origins, how you've grown up with them and developed a love for these clever, elegant, sturdy creatures early on in your childhood. You even regale Nanami with a tale about your first pony and the first bone you broke from a riding accident, and in exchange, Nanami tells you about his most recent injury.

Just like that, an hour gallops by, occasionally interspersed with silence or your hitched breaths when Nanami's strong grip encircles your waist as a particularly rough patch of the path comes up, or a steeper than average incline of a hill, incentivizing Kaito to kick his hooves up even higher. But Nanami is a perfect gentleman, his arm abandoning you the instant the danger's past. You wonder if you could muster up the courage to persuade it to stay securely wrapped around you, if you dare ask Nanami to keep the warmth of his touch bound to your belly stoking a mounting inferno within.

Alas, before you can dwell further on such a brazen request, the two of you have arrived back at the paddock. Kaito slows to a standstill eventually and Nanami is the first to dismount comfortably, expectantly waiting on the ground.

He calls out your name again when you don't make a move.

"My legs are um, kinda jelly, it's been a while since I've ridden for so long."

The edge of Nanami's mouth tilts up, with an arrogance that's starting to become aggravatingly familiar.

"You could get yourself on but not off?"

There's a shade of mockery in his tone that elicits a retort from you, poorly-worded (unfortunately, only in retrospect.)

"I can get myself off just fine, thank you very much!" you snap.

In the moments you take to cautiously shuffle your other leg over to the same side, facing Nanami, you don't immediately notice your Freudian slip. You're only alerted to what you've said when you glance up at the sound of Nanami awkwardly clearing his throat, lips pursed but arms spread wide.

"As entertaining as watching you struggle to...get yourself off - your words, not mine," he reminds you as a furious blush blooms against your cheeks, "Unfortunately we don't have the luxury of time for that. So, jump."

You hesitate, it might only be a little leap, but it still felt awfully high. Nanami takes a step forward.

"Would you prefer a safer option?" He sounds sincere this time. Swallowing your nerves (and pride) you nod.

It's too sudden, though he had signaled his intentions far in advance, the way Nanami's arms snake around your hips and under your thighs, flexed, uncompromising. Warm, so warm. You feel the pull of him brace you against the abrupt tug of gravity, yet still clutch your hands around Nanami's nape, as if trying to wrench the gasp back into your lungs from his scalding touch.

You feel humour reverberate through him at your exaggeration of a reaction, even as the world rights and steadies itself into some semblance of normalcy. But your feet haven't quite resumed contact with something more solid and reassuring (perhaps the earth couldn't match the sturdiness of Nanami's powerful torso, but you could hardly stay in this position for much longer.)

"Y-you can let go of me now, please," you mumble, loathing how your voice trembles.

"After you." His chuckle is full-throated if a little muffled. You glance down, and mortification wholly consumes you. The lack of audibility is attributed to how you've got Nanami's face crushed to your ribs, and now you can feel the hard ridge of his nose pressed to the underside of your bosom, as well as the light twitch of his lips as he fights back a sneaky smile, concealed against the fabric covering your cleavage.

"Oh god, I'm so so sorry, Sir," you babble, swiftly releasing the back of his neck and gratefully dropping back down. Unfortunately, your legs haven't quite caught up with the urgency of humiliation and you stumble. This time you're the one with the face squashed to an ample chest; you're certain that when the deities designed Nanami, they must have mixed up marble and flesh, feeling the sculpted swell of his pronounced pectorals, even if it was for a mere moment.

You wish you could stay here forever, delay the shame of meeting his gaze, but you know there's an exponential relation between the disgrace you've already committed and the seconds you're squandering on impudence, lingering in this position. So you spring away in an instant, the vivid thudding of Nanami's chest fading. Its echo in your ears is the sole indication he's human, just like you.

Well, not exactly like you. His countenance isn't awash in scarlet, dyed in a summer sunset. You can only imagine the shadows those high, stern cheekbones would cast though, final rays of glory finding their purpose of illumination before submitting to the horizon.

You attempt to apologise again when you feel a firm grip just above your elbow, pulling you up to meet a mildly concerned gaze.

"I'm fine," you answer before Nanami even opens his mouth to ask.

"I hope your thighs won't be sore tonight."

Your ears redden but as you look into Nanami's eyes, just like his tone, there's an absence of an ulterior motive or suggestiveness. Not even a glimmer of mischief.

You dust yourself off and shrug. "I'm used to it."

"Used to your thighs being sore?'

Ah, and there's the vaguest spark now. You wave your hand at him, as if that would quell the butterflies in your belly too.

"Don't worry, I expect to be able to walk tomorrow."

"I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning then."

"Tomorrow?"

Nanami smiles, stroking Kaito's forelocks. "Today was good for him, I think we can keep it up. Anyway," Nanami turns back to you, his hand reaching out, brushing against your cheek. You still completely as he plucks a wisp of hay from your hair, letting it drift to the ground.

"I think he rather enjoyed you riding him."

The horse whinnies and Nanami hums, "See, Kaito agrees. Mh, what was that? You want me to tell her something?" Nanami cocks his head to the side, pretending to listen.

You don't dare discover if that ember in his eyes is a full blaze by now, so you train your stare on the tuft of straw, waiting for Nanami to relay his horse's message. Hence, you don't realise how he's closed the distance between you, until you feel his conspiratorial whisper tickle the shell of your ear.

"He said: Next time, bring sugar lumps, then we'll fall for you even faster."

Your head snaps up to object and ask 'what about his strict diet!' but Nanami's already swung back up onto his steed and is trotting off.

You stare at their rapidly shrinking silhouettes, making sure you're well beyond their sight before you bend and snatch up the wisp of hay, twiddling it between your fingers before surreptitiously pocketing it.

Had Nanami really said "we"?

In the distance, the equestrian glances over his shoulder to wave farewell at you, ensuring he's far enough of out earshot before he hums by his horse's ear, "Guess the two of us have a new favorite source of sweetness, huh?"

Kaito neighs loudly, the wind carrying his answer and Nanami's bright laugh back to you.

#jjkweek2021 #jujutsu kaisen imagines #nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami headcanons #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento x reader #sandsorghum #nanami kento hcs #nanami kento imagines

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deadinside-butstill-horny · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met

Part Three - Most Of You

Pairing: Javier Peña/ Female Murphy!Reader

Words: 10k - Word count got away from me.

Summary: We learn a little about Y/N’s past. Tequila is involved and inhibitions lowered.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death, themes of PTSD,18+ SMUT warning, oral, fingering, dirty talk, penetrative sex. Lots and lots of consent, cause consent is sexy and you know our boy Javi is nothing if not respectful.

MASTERLIST

AO3

Author Note: I really enjoyed writing this. It’s absolutely just porn with minor plot but I have no regrets.

Got the gif from this photo set during the week because THAT’S THE SMILE I’M ON ABOUT. That cute as fuck half smile; it melts my heart.

Part One - Part Two

It just so happened that when Javier decided to stop trying to seduce you, the two of you could actually be around one another and have a good time. Well, not quite as good as that night. But in the grand scheme of things; good-ish.

After the debauchery that had occurred outside of the church the two of you had ceremonially agreed to a ceasefire on all hostilities with your second meeting. You were equal parts surprised and disappointed that Javier had been on his best behaviour, the two of you had successfully bought the ingredients and were currently producing what was sure to be a decent breakfast without either of you ending up naked.

He was the picture of domesticity as he sat on the counter top with a beer in his hand at 8:15am as you whisked some eggs in a bowl using a fork, you paused for a moment, taking a sip of your own beverage, then resuming your task as you threw the eggs into the too hot pan making them sizzle on the skillet.

"No, no, no, no." Javier cried and pushed himself off of the counter as he tutted, coming to your side and placing his hand on the curve of your waist to move you out of his way. His hand slithers forward and lingers a second on your own fingers before he takes the spatula and puts space between the two of you to manage the task at hand.

For a moment, you're perplexed. The movement itself wasn't particularly invasive or breaking from the gentlemanly persona he had adopted in the last two hours, but rather it was an act of, well, familiarity. Which reason dictates simply shouldn’t exist between the two of you.

You had known each other for a grand total of 48 hours and that was being generous as you had been comatosed for easily 15 of those. He had a bad habit of popping up when you least expected it and disarming you with an easy smile.

You didn’t like how he made you feel. Everything you said, you measured his reaction, a pull of his lip, a flash of his teeth or a narrow of his brow; these were his tells, well his obvious ones.

You tried desperately to convince yourself that this was platonic analysis. It would seem you could kid Javier but you couldn’t trick yourself. You felt things for the man that you really shouldn’t after knowing him for two days. You were frustrated with the situation, he’d slept with another woman hours after your encounter. You were jealous, sure, but not betrayed.

It was a matter of pride, that evening had somewhat extinguished the fire for the bronzed man who was currently trying to save the eggs you’d flash fried. What you were experiencing were embers. Yes, embers. The fire hadn’t completely been doused and all you had was a residual heat. A deep glowing burning heat, sure. But eventually reality would be sure to dump some more water on this fire and you wouldn’t feel this lingering need for the man, right?

“¡Espero que te gusten los huevos calientes!” Javier hollered over the sizzling with a smirk on his face as he scraped at the pan with the instrument he’d stolen from you.

“Eggs and Hot? That’s all I got!” You question a smile warming your face, apparently his enthusiasm was contagious.

He chuckled at your words and nodded, “Tu español no es tan malo linda dama!”

“I got nothin’ besides español,'' you shrug. Javier let out another snicker, he seemed to laugh a lot but he was missing the soft wrinkles bracketing his mustache which made you think that maybe this wasn’t his natural state. There was a light silence whilst he sliced the loaf of bread you’d picked from the store. As you were setting the table your book caught your eye from its place on the coffee table and you couldn’t resist trying out some of your newly learnt infant level language.

“Hola Javier, mi nombre es Y/N. Mi color favorito es el Y/F/C.¡Me gustan los perros!”

(My name is Y/N, My Favourite colour is Y/F/C. I like dogs!)

Javier turned around his expression; a picture of incredulousness. His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, his mustache almost touching his nose as you got a view of his brilliant white teeth in a genuine honest to god grin. If you had a camera, you’d have captured that moment.

“I’ll have to be careful around you, huh, sunshine? These new Spanish skills of yours could get me into trouble.”

“Bailar es divertido!” You exclaim using the only Spanish phrase you know.

“What?...Dancing is fun?... Where the hell did you learn this stuff?”

“Español … para... niños”

“Española para niñas” Javier corrected helpful “Unless you’ve got something you need to tell me...”

“Damn! The masculine and feminine, they briefly touched upon the theory in Spanish for Kids. It wasn’t as in depth as you might think though.” You joke with a huff. “Hey, do you know where I can get a better translating book?”

“Learning Spanish, huh? How long are you plannin’ on staying exactly?” You jump at the addition of a third voice, Steve appears looking thoroughly rested with his voice two octaves lower than it should be.

“Well ya’ know Stevie, it’s pretty ignorant to not learn a little of the language of the country you’re in.”

“You didn’t answer the question.” Steve points out, you’d hoped he would give in and let it go considering Javier was here. Though seeing as he greeted his partner whilst grabbing a cup of coffee before turning expectantly towards yourself, your chances of skirting around the subject seemed slim.

“I don’t have any commitments at home, not like I got the hospital waiting for me to come back. So... I’mma stay… ya know … live a little!”

“Gillian? She’s not waiting for you?”

“Nah, I quit.”

“You quit?! It took you fuckin’ ages to get that job.”

“Stevie, If I have to clean up puke in a fucking grocery store once more. I honestly don't think I can take it- don’t look at me like that. Three times is three times too many!”

“You’re fuckin’ out of your mind. This isn’t a holiday.”

“No, but I need some change, you clearly need to get your ass kicked back in line. We both win! If you help me get a job it’ll be great… I can practically speak Spanish already....”

“I dispute that.” Javier piped up.

“Shut up.” You say as you throw the tea towel at him. “Look Stevie. Everything’s fine. You were fine with Connie and Olivia being here. I’m a grown ass woman.” There was silence as Javier continued moving around the kitchen, only this lull was a little heavier, you chalk it up to you being the youngest and the only girl in a family with three brothers. God knows they’d been benching you your entire life.

“Fine.” Steve huffed and sat down at the table as you and Javier served up. The man in question gave you a conspiratorial wink as you passed one another. Nothing more was said on the matter as you tucked into breakfast. Infact, pleasant conversation was kept up all through the meal until it came time for Javier and Steve to go.

“We gotta get into the embassy. Heard rumours the new boss starts soon and we need to get our ducks in a row.” Steve nodded to Javier's words. “You ready to get back in the ring?”

“Been ready for the past two weeks, man. This leave of absence was bullshit”

Steve grabs his coat as you watch expectantly, waiting for your invite to the boys club, that inevitably doesn’t come. Instead you receive a much more in character; “Stay in the apartment, for god sakes Y/N. Just for today. I’ve left my number on the pad if you need me.”

You nod noncommittally and combined with a shrug the action hits its mark as Steve sighs.

“This isn’t funny. Bogotá isn’t safe for you.” You repeat your action, this time without the shrug. He huffs but carries on out of the door, he must have realised that was as much as an acquiescence as he was going to recieve, Javier follows him but stops on the threshold.

“Te encontraré ese libro, Guapa.” He calls out before closing the door behind him.

“no hablo español, motherfucker!” You shout after him, you vaguely hear his warm chortle as he descends down the stairs. With your legs propped up on the chair in front of you, you huff and look around the room. The absolute assholes had left you with the washing up. Yeah, feminism was definitely taking a hit during your time in Colombia.

Apparently the agents hadn’t got the memo about the change in gender roles, you cursed their names as you turned on the radio to some latin music and began the arduous process of cleaning the entire kitchen, including the appliances and counters you hadn’t even used.

You then moved onto the lounge, hey, if you were going to play the role of housewife, you were going to at least be a good one. You hoovered, reorganised and dusted your ass off for at least three-ish hours before you got bored, abandoning your work for snooping, you were only human after all.

First you looked in the medicine cabinet and found nothing good, I mean, you don’t know what crazy drugs you were expecting your brother, the DEA agent, to have in his possession but you were crestfallen with the dull discovery of a spare toothpaste, American xanax and ‘aspirina bebé’.

With a lamentful sigh you took your sleuthing into the bedroom, pulling his bedside drawer open with a hesitant hand. You don’t know what dark sexual preferences your brother and Connie may or may not have and you didn’t want to risk permanent scarring. As you open it fully you glance inside remaining tentative, your eyes first fall on the badge left behind. He must have forgotten it. You take it out and place it on the bed beside you as you continue to investigate.

Your hands find a wad of folded yellow notepad paper, the jagged edges have been ripped from the main pad in frustration. Unfolding the wad, you do a once over of the sheet in front of you. The words ‘Dear Connie,’ make you halt in your sted. Finding a gimp mask or weed was funny, this however crossed a line. So you placed the notes back where you found them, you turned to grab the badge and place it back on top of the pile but as the light shone on the metal an idea sprung to mind.

To say you were famed for your impulse control issues was an understatement. You often acted first with no regard for the consequences, hence your presence in Colombia and your extensive shoe collection. But as you drove your brother's Jeep through the streets of Bogotá, you realised that you may finally push Steve over the edge. Already in too deep you took the final turn, following the map you had spread out on the passenger side and were greeted with the American flag. Eureka. You had taken an embarrassing amount of wrong turns but had finally arrived.

You pulled up to the barrier and smiled at the Colombian guard donned in a dark green uniform.

“Hola, Agent Murphy DEA asked me to drop off his badge.” You wiggle the object of your deceit in his eye line.

“Identification?” The guard asked in heavily accented English. You shut off the car's engine as you turn to your purse and pull your driver's license out and hand it over. He inspects the plastic, looking between you and the ID before nodding and handing it back to you, definitely not a social butterfly. He then waved to the gentleman controlling the barrier, allowing you access.

“DEA office is to the right. Personnel only.”

“I’ll be in and out, quick as a flash.” You reassuringly smile at the man and receive only a stony glare in return. Deciding to stop pushing the apparently limitless bounds of your dumb luck you pull through the barrier and into the car park on the right. You park up in what you hope is an unreserved space and hop out of the tall vehicle.

“Right, what's the plan again?” you mumble to yourself as you pause for a second, before starting towards the cream building and hopping up the stairs. You cling to the badge like a life raft, terrified you’ll be stopped as the imposter sight-seerer you are. Now in your defence, you knew this was dumb. Steve had an important job and distracting him wasn’t helpful in the least, but you couldn’t help yourself. Stay inside- like that was ever going to happen.

So you scoured the offices of the embassy for about fifteen minutes before you decided to break and ask for help, finally stopping an american looking woman with large stylish shoulder pads and even bigger hair.

“I’m looking for the DEA office? Steve Murphy, Javier Peña?” She seemed to bristle at the mention of the latter.

“Take that elevator to the third floor and it's the third door on the left, but watch out for Peña, he’s a real- '' She cut herself off with a huff, before nodding your way and walking off.

No shit, sister.

Following the potentially scorned woman's instructions you found yourself in the DEA Bogotá headquarters; only Steve and Javier were nowhere to be seen.

Fuck.

You looked around the room taking a slight step back getting ready to turn on your heel as an older white haired man entered the room.

“Hey Newbie, I need two copies of each of these and I need these faxed to the team in Medellín.”

“Uh-”

“I needed them there yesterday, so get to it.” He dumps the two huge piles of files into your arms as you stare at him bemused. Looking back you still don’t know why you didn’t say anything, but you rolled up your sleeves and whipped out that can-do attitude and got to work, at what was apparently your new guerilla admin job. And that is how Javier and Steve found you two hours later, fighting with a fax machine and on the phone to the office in Medellín.

“No- I understand how the machine works… Yes… Yes I’ve turned it off and on, I think the problems on your side… No I don’t- Well Weaver needed the case file there yesterday so you need to figure something out! Yes… Yes I’ll hold. “ You turned when you heard steps behind you, pressing the receiver between your head and your shoulder and holding the fax machine manual.

“Hey Guys!” You say cheerily, pretending like this was completely normal, like you hadn’t just dropped into Steve’s life and then surprised him every step of the way.

“What in the hell are you-” Steve started, however the woman on the other side of the phone decided to pick up, you held up one finger to the two of them as a pause.

“Oh, Hey Salome, It’s no problem… that’s great, I'll give it a try.” You drop the manual and press the green button on the fax machine, the machine begins making the whizzing sound you’d been chasing for the past twenty minutes. “Sounds all good on my end. Right, that's great I’ll send the rest across now. Thanks, have a nice day!”

“Am I high, right now? What the fuck is going on?” Steve’s tone matched his face with the disbelief painted upon it. He had taken a seat at the desk which just so happened to be next to the fax machine and copier. Javier sat at his own in front of the typewriter with a smirk on his face lighting up a cigarette.

“Uh, well... I came to give you your badge cause’ you forgot it at home and then Weaver asked me to do some copies. Turns out that security here is pretty lax, cause’ I’ve been copying and faxing classified case files for the past two hours and no one seems to know or care that I don’t work here.” Steve’s eye all but twitched as he rubbed at his face. He reached into his bottom drawer and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and began pouring himself a glass.

“Fine.” He actually shrugged after downing the drink in one. Damn, You weren’t sure which had broken him, yourself or Colombia. “Better you’re here where I can keep tabs on you...Javi, can we get her an actual job?”

“I’ll run it by Messina,” Javier shrugged as he stood from behind his desk. “Probably best not to mention the perusal of classified cases though.”

So that’s how the three of you ended up at dinner celebrating your new job four days later, you were officially an office administrator for the DEA in Colombia, heading to the CNP base of operations in Medellín alongside your brother and his partner as their administrator, well, from what you understood, you were their dogsbody. Your Spanish speaking ability had been greatly exaggerated but you were undeniably overqualified for the position, so, pending a background check you were through doors.

Your interview with Steve and Javi’s boss; Messina, had been nerve wracking and your Murphy name had won you no favours.

You’d given it your best and from what you could see you’d managed to convince her you were worth your salt.

Yep, you’d proved yourself totally capable and more importantly, completely willing to move around 8 hours away to Medellín to live on an army base where a drug cartel was incredibly active. According to Javi this had apparently made you a very appealing hire to the DEA. As such you were being sent along with the boys to help out on the front line, well, as close to the front line as an admin/dogsbody gets.

The three of your glasses clinked in unison, before you drained your shot with a regretful gasp, Tequila was the devil.

“Thank you to Javi, for not only saving my sister from her stupidity once, but twice… or is it three times now?!” Steve lifted his second shot as he gave his heartfelt speech. Picking up the lime you’d just sucked the juice out of you launched it at him, missing by some margin. He let out what could only be described as a snigger as both him and Javi threw their second shots back.

If you were completely honest with yourself, you were wasted.

The three of you had enjoyed a meal and many, many subsequent drinks. Knowing full well the two men had a distinct advantage of having had at least a year to pickle their livers in whiskey from the stress of this place, you had insisted that for every two drinks they had, you had one. .

Still, six drinks in with no sign of stopping you felt better than you really had any right to. The room had yet to start spinning and for those small mercies, you were thankful.

“Nah, Thankyou to you both! I’ve heard Medellín is lovely this time of year!”

“Well, you won’t know. You’ll be spending all of your time on base, where it’s safe.”

“Steve-”

“Non-negotiable. You wanna come to Medellín, fine. But you do what I say, and no Y/N’s day out like in Bogotá.”

“Dude, you’re such a buzz-kill!”

“Dude? What are you 15?!” Javier jokes with a cigarette between his lips. You’d been here only a week and yet he’d managed to navigate how to defuse an impending Murphy fight from a mile away.

“You should’a seen her at 15. Those teeth!”

“Ya’ got any pictures?” Javi asks, half distracted with flagging down the waitress and showing her five fingers.

“Really Steve, you wanna go there? After the earring incident?” Javier turns his full attention on you.

“Murphy had an earring?”

“No-” Steve tries to interrupt.

“Yep, a nice little hoop.”

“I didn’t…”

“It got caught on his windbreaker and he ripped it out of his ear, it got infected.”

“Wind breaker?” Javier was biting his lip and staring at your brother, not really trying so hard to contain his laughter.

“Can’t think why I didn’t want you around, Sis. Look- I was trying something out; It didn’t work, so I moved on.” You wait a beat, allowing Javier to take in the information before you helpfully and without prompt drop a nugget of information for the Hispanic man.

“... He had to go to hospital.” A chortle burst unintentionally from Javier’s chest as your comment caught him by surprise.

“Y/N!” Steve burst out in frustration, making you cackle with glee.

“Okay, Okay.” You hold your hands in mock surrender as the waitress drops another round of drinks on the table.

“Let’s head over to the discotheque, live music- no Sicario’s. Big with Bogotá policia so very safe.” Javier pitched like he was speaking to a child as he tried to convince Steve. He knew you were in from the excitement that lit up your form.

“I don’t know, dancing-”

“Would be good for you! Come on Steve, this place is closing soon anyway-” You counter, only to be cut off as he frantically looks at his watch.

“What time is it- I promised I’d phone Con tonight- FUCK!” He stood quickly grabbing the table to steady himself and ran to the phone box just outside of the bar, you could just about see him from where you sat in the window booth besides Javi.

The two of you looked at one another for a moment, you weren’t quite at the level where conversation came easy, but you weren’t uncomfortable by any means.

“Thanks for talking to Messina for me… honestly. You’ve done so much for me since I got here.”

“Like I said, it’s no problem, guapa.” He smiles at you, not a smirk for once but a delighted easy smile that rarely graces his face. “I saw your CV.”

“Oh.” The smile drops off of your face, his eyes analyse your reaction, the easy smile replaced by a sombre expression.

“Yeah, Oh. You were a doctor, a surgeon? I thought you mopped up vomit in a grocery store in Miami?”

“It’s complicated.” You gave him no further explanation, you expected him to move on, except Javier wasn’t like other people, he didn’t make things easy. He stared at you expectantly with those deep brown questioning eyes. “Christ, okay. Yes I was in my final year of residency, not quite a surgeon.”

“How does that happen?”

“How does what happen?” You question, you know you’re being difficult but this isn’t something you’ve talked about with Steve, for Godsakes. He did that trick once more, hitting you with those soul-full eyes.

Honestly, it was lucky you weren’t working for Escobar, forget waterboarding, all Javi would have to do was look at you to get you to give up your darkest secrets. “Things didn’t go my way, I wasn’t happy there. The hours were long and that shit was heavy.”

He didn’t seem satisfied with your answer but he didn’t push any further, finally respecting your reluctance, he nodded. Stubbing out his cigarette and tilting his head towards the shots he asked “...Another?”

“Why not?” You reply hesitantly.

Taking the salt you go to shake it onto the back of your hand when a tanned one stops your movement in its wake.

“No, no, no. Let’s do it a little different.” His eyes shot up to where your brother was leaning against the phone booth before he took your hand in his. Adjusting his grip he lifts your wrist to his mouth. Your heart is beating in your ears as you watch as his pink tongue pokes out and laps one, twice at your pulse point. A long line of saliva is left on your wrist as he shakes the salt over it. His eyes meet yours for a moment, as if asking permission.

You don’t know how you even instruct your brain to nod, but regardless you carry out the action. Javi brings his mouth to your wrist once more in one solid stroke of his talented tongue, your eyes clamp closed as he finishes swiping up the salt before draining both the tequila and lime.

You’re breathing heavy as you open your eyes, to find those mahogany ones laser focused on you.

“You missed a step.” You mumble, your eyes never leaving his as you hold the lime up to his mouth, rind first. His teeth close over it and his lips just barely graze your fingertips. You turn to check on Steve, thankfully your brother has his back to the two of you, deep in conversation with Connie. Probably for the best, given your plan.

You turn sideways to face Javi, lifting one of your legs up onto the booth and bending it at the knee to get a vantage point. The alcohol coursing in your veins gives you the courage as one hand wraps around his neck and the other his shoulder, you lean forwards to give one long solitary lick up his neck, right on the pulse. You taste his sweat stained skin, salty and warm on your tongue.

Reaching for the shaker, you apply it liberally, smiling as you drop some of it down his t-shirt. Though from the stare he seemingly refused to remove from you, you don’t think he much cared. Once you considered your job done, you turned back and pushed his head to the side and began licking the salt from his neck, this time you tortured him with three small cat licks along the flesh, you felt his neck tense as his hand moved from its place on the pleather booth and wrapped around your thigh.

You reached back to the table and sank your shot. Wincing you turned back to Javier, leaning forward to grab the lime from his mouth. As you did so, he dropped it purposefully, staring directly into your eyes, a clear challenge, before he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you forward locking your lips in a devastating kiss. He tasted of lime, tequila and just Javier; that unexplainable component which was both sweet and smoky. His tongue plundered the depths of your mouth, seemingly uncaring of your brother who was mere metres away. Your hands roved his chest before locking in the short hair on the nape of his neck.

Unexpectedly it was Javi who broke the kiss. The two of you paused with your foreheads meeting, much like the night you met. He seemed to be trying to regain control.

“Meet me in the bathroom?” You whisper, rubbing your nose against his beautifully angular hooked one. He breathed out heavily through his nose, his eyes opening and pushing you away by your shoulders.

“No, I’m not gonna fuck you in the fucking bathrooms of a filthy fucking bar- are you crazy?” Behind his eyes a rage and arousal battled, apparently you had rattled him with your question, he reached forward for his whiskey, and took a sip whilst shaking his head and trying to centre himself. “I’m giving you whiplash? Yeah that’s real cute. You change what you want every single fuckin’ day, then look at me like I’m a dick.”

You supposed he had a point, after all you had been the one to ask for the redo and then stared at him longingly every day since. “It’s not an easy situation to navigate, ok? I came here for Steve-”

“You didn’t come here for Steve.” He uttered under his breath, staring straight ahead with his elbow perched on the table and holding the glass to his mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“You didn’t come here for Steve, not completely. You came here for you.”

“That’s not-” Javier turns to you, locking you down with his gaze. It was easy to forget he was a cop; observative and attentive to a fault, he could call your bullshit from a mile away.

“Everything you’ve done since you got here, that’s not for him. You’re desperate for some life back in those veins. You don’t just give up being a fuckin’ surgeon and feel fulfilled with your position at a fuckin’ grocery store, Sunshine.”

“Wow, you’ve got me pegged, huh? No wonder they’ve got you after Escobar, best detective on the fucking case.” You roll your eyes refusing to look at him, sipping a beer as a way of hiding how he’s unnerved you. Everything he’s saying true and you’re ashamed of yourself.

“You don’t come down to the embassy if you’re trying to make your brother's life easier. I’m not criticizing Guapa, but how about cutting the bullshit messiah complex.”

You’re embarrassed and trying to look anywhere but him. His hand reaches for your own as Steve rounds the corner, the tanned fingers instead lock around the shot glass in front of you.

“So, what’d I miss?” Your voice is lodged in your throat, you don’t think you could speak even if you could think of the words you wanted to use. Javi answers in some nondescript way you don’t even really listen to before ordering another round of drinks.

“Y/N/N, You alright?” Steve asked, ever the concerned brother.

(your nickname)

“Yeah, Javi- uh, he saw my cv.” It wasn’t a complete lie but you still feel bad for using past trauma to make your brother skirt around the issue in the way you knew he would.

“Oh, Uh… Drink?” Steve stared at you, uneasy.

“Yeah, a drink would be great.” Your voice is monotone to even your ears, you reach forward and down the beer in front of you, desperate for this awkwardness to be over and the feeling in the pit of your stomach to vanish. You’re happy to say after around ten minutes of the two men holding up the conversation, it atleast eases slightly.

There’s a lull as you all wait drinks arrive and you have managed to regain your basic motor skills. This is the selfishness Javi is talking about. Steve needs a good night, without feeling crappy about his damaged sister stealing the lime-light. So putting your best foot forward you look across to Javi and smile.

“So, how was Connie?”

“She’s good! She’s enjoying getting back to work, her sister’s having Liv during the day.” Guilt swells in your stomach once again. You should be there making Connie’s life easier, but instead you abandoned her to play the hero in Colombia. The shame spiral is slowly clawing at your stomach, as you force yourself to take a deep breath.

“That’s good…” You’re saved by the bell, or rather the waitress bringing over the tray of beverages. Taking your beer first, you reach across and controversially take two of the shots. Both men chuckle at your bravado as Javi asks the woman for an extra shot.

The night continued on much like that, minus the regret whirlwind as the tequila seemed to help get rid of any real self reflection. The three of you didn’t even make it to the discotheque, as by the time the bar closed, the three of you began the short walk home, you were carrying the large box of pizza that you had insisted on ordering.

Surprisingly, Steve was the drunkest of your trio. His phone call with Connie had sent him into his own spiral. He began drinking tequila like it was water, to the point Javier had thrown in the towel, deciding he’d much rather like to live to see tomorrow. So with your pizza in one arm and your other wrapped around your brother's waist, you and Javi half carried Steve home and up the stairs into the apartment.

The two of you unceremoniously dumped him on his bed, carefully you placed the pizza box you had cradled to your breast on the chest of drawers before you stepped forward past Javier.

You pulled Steves boots off of his feet and pulled his legs up onto his bed, taking his belongings out his pockets; yes, including his gun, you placed them on the bedside table. You then placed a glass of water and an aspirin next to them, feeling sympathy for his head tomorrow morning.

Happy that your job was done, you shut the light off and went into the living room, once again cradling the pizza. Javier was slouched on the sofa/your bed flicking through your Spanish introduction book, as you entered the room he threw it back on the table and pointed at the empty whiskey bottle on the coffee table.

“Got any more?”

“Think, that was his last one…” you shrug.

“Come down to mine for a drink? I don’t like how we left things.”

“No more talking?” Javier looks at you reproachfully, scanning your body as if the direct proposition you’d accidentally given him was the last thing he expected. “Uh- I mean- no more hard questions and no more...touching.”

“Alright.” He nods, pushing himself up with a sigh. “But if there’s no more touching, I get half of that pizza Sunshine.”

You nod and smile, following him down the stairs to his apartment. As you cross the threshold emboldened by tequila, you don’t dwell on your self destructive tendencies as Javier’s recent comments would’ve made you if you were sober.

You’re tired and all you want is a drink of whiskey, some pizza and for Javier to give you that smile, the one that makes the side of his mustache raises and reveals the pearly white of his teeth. Dropping the pizza down on the coffee table you make yourself at home, sitting very deliberately on the couch he hadn’t screwed someone else on. If he notices, Javi didn’t say anything.

He hurried over, cigarette balanced in between his lips as both hands were taken up. One holding two glasses and the other cradling the whiskey. He sits himself down with considerably more grace than you had, on the other sofa. You reach down the side of the sofa where you spy the remote peeking out from beneath the leather cushion and begin skimming through the channels until you find the telenovelas you'd unironically begun watching since arriving in Colombia.

Opening the box of Pizza, you take a slice and begin devouring the meal. It’s not quite like pizza as you know it, but it's tasty and full of carbs to soak up the alcohol so you can’t find a fault with it. The two of you eat in silence for around half an hour.

It seemed neither of you were eager to break the silence after the daunting conversation from earlier. It’s as you’re taking your first sip of whiskey watching two women argue in Spanish on the television you decide to speak.

“I figure I owe you some answers.”

“You don’t owe me shit, Sunshine.” He’s leaning back in his seat, whiskey balancing on his knee and a fresh smoke in his hand. “Sure I’m intrigued, but I'll figure you out in the end. Miami’s own angel of death?”

You chuckle at how close to the mark he is as he makes a shot in the dark. “I’m gonna need a refill if we’re gonna talk about our feelings…”

“Feelings… woah, woah, woah. I didn’t sign up for that.” He has a brazen smirk on his face, as he takes the now empty glass from your palm and fills it up. You down a second and he repeats the task.

“I killed a kid,” You wheeze as you wince from the burn turning your head towards the television and nursing the now full whiskey glass between your hands. “You asked why I gave up becoming a surgeon. I... I was the lead resident on a fuckin’ appendectomy. I could do that shit in my sleep. I perfed the abdominal wall as I was geting ready to close him up; a tiny fucking knick. There were no bleeders and his vitals remained normal, didn’t even notice I’d done it. It was as they were taking him back to the ward, he just crashed.”

You finish another glass and as your eyes water, you pretend it's the burn of the alcohol. You breathe heavy, your upper lip quivering. You’ve heard of the sensation but never felt it.

“I froze. I opened him up in the lift, by the time I got back in there, he’d bled out. A twelve year old; Justin Miller. Just a fucking kid.” Javi doesn’t try to interrupt or make you feel better, which honestly made the whole thing easier.

“His mom sued the shit out of me and the hospital, can’t say I blame her. I took a sabbatical and when it was time to go back, I couldn’t. Couldn’t go into the OR without having a fuckin’ panic attack.” You hadn’t met Javi’s eyes for the entirety of the one-sided conversation, scared that when you looked up you’d no longer find those treacle eyes filled with warmth.

Silence fills the air for a devastating second whilst Javier digests your words.

“You fucked up.” He mumbled finally, your eyes shot up to his own and within the pools of chocolate you found his usual warmth, though his customary jovial expression was suddenly somber. Such an expression looked strange on the gentle man you’d come to know, but you knew it was far from out of place. “In our line of work, you mess up; someone dies. It’s not fair or easy, just is what it is.”

You don’t have a word for the noise you make, somewhere between a scoff and a gasp. You chuckle as his response to years of complex trauma you’ve never recovered from is boiled down to five simple words.

“It is what it is.” You repeat disbelieving.

“Can’t change the past. Useless to try.”

“Stuff it down with the brown?” You ask, lifting your empty glass in a cheers.

“Exactly, Guapa.” He unscrewed the whiskey bottle and began pouring you a generous portion. As he’s screwing the lid back on he sits back down, this time though he’s on the couch next to you. “Maybe someday I’ll get teary and we can talk about my fuck ups.”

Your only response is to punch at his hard thigh next to you as you take a long sip, thinking about the information you’d willingly just divulged to Javi. “I’ve never talked about that before.”

“Not with Steve?”

“Not with anyone. I was ashamed for a long time, still am. But it’s different now; more manageable.”

“Ready to operate then, Doctor Murphy?”

“Asshole.” You say with a reluctant smile to the joke at your own expense.

“pendejo” he leaned back on the sofa as he translated.

“pen-dejo?”

“Si muy bueno.”

“Another!”

“Coger!”

“Co-g-er?”

“Si insistes…” He trails off with a smirk.

“You’re a dick.”

“Yes, I am.”

After placing your drink on the coffee table, you lean over to Javi slowly, refusing to break eye contact, all the while and you lay your head on the plush leather of the sofa; nearer his shoulder than his own face.

“Thankyou, Javi.”

“I keep telling you, Sunshine. It’s nothing”

“It’s everything,” You close the distance and place a kiss on his lips. It’s neither heavy nor chaste, like when he initiated them. This is full of meaning, It speaks of letting go of the past and welcoming the future, it's deep and warm and delicious. Your tongue licks at his own as your hand rises to rest on his cheek holding him there, you explore the depths of his mouth instead of conquering them. He tastes of the whiskey and somehow residual tequila, you find yourself getting drunk off of the taste of him.

Pulling away you rest your forehead against his own. “I’m so tired… and drunk.”

“Sleep with me.”

“Javier, you said- I mean, I don’t think-”

“No, sleep. Just sleep... with me. Gotta be better than the couch up there,”

“No funny business?”

“Scouts honor.” After a moment of contemplation you decide that this was specifically breaking the rules of your selfishness, the tequila may have altered your perception of the rules somewhat but you had wanted this man for so long. After your emotional confession, falling asleep next to him seemed cathartic.

You take the remote once more and click the red power button, the screen goes black as Javier has already disappeared into his bedroom. You hear him rummaging around in his drawers as you cross the threshold. Once he’s seemingly found what he was looking for, he holds the article up to your inspecting eye.

It’s a plain olive green v-neck tee, nothing particularly special about it, but it would do as pyjamas, so you accept it gratefully, much preferring a tshirt to the sundress you’d worn out to dinner. You push the straps off of your shoulders, letting them fall under your armpits as you clutch the dress to your front. You pull Javier's t-shirt over your head and are greeted by the fragrance you’d come to love. It smelt like washing powder, spice and cigarette smoke, you wouldn’t say smoke was on your top tier of smells list but it reminded you of Javi so you couldn’t bring yourself to turn your nose up at it.

Once the shirt was covering all the important bits, you lowered your dress and stepped out of the offending cloth.

“A little late for modesty, eh?” He smirks as he lights his cigarette, leaning against the pillows of the bed. He was referring to the morning after you’d arrived in Colombia, where you’d walked through this very apartment, bare as the day you were born.

At some point Javi had rid himself of his dress shirt and dropped onto the bed still wearing his jeans. You shimmy your bra down the sleeve of the tee, to make a point. Winking at him as you finally pull it free. You fling it on top of where your dress lay abandoned.

“You’re still a perv for that.” You smile fondly at the man as you clamber over to your side of the bed. He’d taken the left, closest to the door. He doesn’t reply as you make yourself cosy, under the thin blanket of the duvet.

You roll over to face him, he seems to be miles away.

“Where’d you go?” You ask softly, though he startles still.

“I’m right here,” He deflects, leaning over to the ash tray to stub the smoke out.

“Ok…” You roll your eyes as he turns off the lamp and lies flat on the bed next to you. The two of you are silent for a while. It’s not quite awkward but it's definitely not comfortable silence, the two of you know the implications of your decision tonight. Even if Javi is being a perfect gentleman. Your eyes have yet to acclimate to the dark as you stare out trying to search for his form.

“Stop staring at me.”

“It’s dark, I’m not staring at anything.” You reply to his childish remark. You hear a chuckle catch in his throat. He seems then to have finally made his decision, he reaches forward and wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest. You go to stop him, but there's nothing to stop. He makes no further move as he holds you there. Your cheek rests on the overheated skin of his pectoral, it has just enough give to be comfier than any pillow you’ve ever encountered.

“Maybe, I’ll tell you about my fuck ups one day.” He whispers into your hair, despite the way he says it being non-committal there's a promise behind the words. You don’t reply, already drifting off into the best sleep you’ve had since arriving in Colombia, or perhaps ever.

A part of your brain registers Javi placing a kiss on the crown of your head as your eyes finally shut, though it is quickly replaced by the singular thought of ‘God, I hope I don’t drool all over him.

“You sober?” You look up at the clock on the bedside table that reads 5am. You’d been asleep for about four hours. You make a non committal noise in your throat.

“Javi?” You mumble sleepily, the man behind you is peppering kisses on your neck.

“You want this?” Again you groan, this time however, you nod your head. His arm rises to wrap around your neck, arching your back to get you closer to him. “Do you want this?”

“God yes.” You gasp, pushing your hips back against his bulge. His hands release your stomach as he kisses down your neck once more. His hands are hard on your flesh as they map out your body in the dark.

His hands continue to roam your body as they slide under his shirt, they land on your breasts, he can’t help himself as he weighs them in his hand. He groans in your ear at the feel of them in his palm. You’d always had Javier down as an ass man, he’d nearly burnt a hole through your jeans the night you’d met. But apparently Javi was a man of many tastes as he worshiped your nipple with the pads of his fingers, rolling the sensitive bud through his thumb and forefinger.

You groan at the sensation and push yourself back into him, desperate to feel every inch of his body against your own. You pull away suddenly and he makes a guttural sound in the back of his throat, though all of his questions are answered as you pull his shirt over your head and throw the offensive fabric across the room. As Quick as a flash he’s back on you, his mouth attached to your neck, giving you absolutely no quarter.

He’s the one bucking into you this time and that seems to awaken part of your brain, your hands reach behind you they’re clumsy from sleep and the angle you have is awkward, you struggle with the button of his jeans for a second before his hand leaves one of your breasts to undo it for you. His hand returns as quickly as it left though it doesn't stay there for long as it slowly roves south, stroking the flesh of your stomach and making your entire being tighten up in anticipation as he feels you through your boy shorts. His touches are light at first, testing and exploring your body, before his fingers begin teasingly rubbing at your clit seeming to delight in the way, your wetness seeped through your underwear.

You force your brain back to the task at hand as your hand finds his abdomen and lowers through the hair lurking below his zipper, mimicking the actions he had performed on you moments before, however you have no intention of teasing.

They find their mark, and you have to stop yourself from gasping. You’d felt him on the sofa that night but my god, your imagination hadn’t done him justice as your hand just about closed around him as you pumped him awkwardly behind you. He groaned in your ear and began whispering in a blend of Spanish and English.

His hands rise to dip under your panties, they brush across your mound before they find their home. His fingers barely touch you at first, seeming to be getting the lay of the land. After a moment of teasing, a single solitary finger swipes slowly along your slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on his fingers.

He groaned in your ear. “So fucking wet, that sweet little cunt is so ready for me…” Instantaneously you lose all motor skills as your body goes into shock, Javier’s dirty mouth would be the death of you.

Fucksake Y/N he wasn’t even inside of you, yet here you were writhing in his arms like a wanton whore from a single sentence.

Your reaction seemed to spur him on as he let go of your body and rolled you onto your back. He swung around on his knees to fit between your legs. His hands rested on your hips, gripping onto the panties that lay there before he rolled them down your legs and threw them behind him. He leaned forward on his elbows, to stare at the most intimate part of you.

Javi began kissing down your thighs, placing small bites along the sensitive skin along the way, getting closer and closer to the throbbing warmth of your pussy.

“I meant what I said, cariño. I want to know how you taste.” Your mind is brought back to that church, the way he had you pushed against those bars, you didn’t think your body could constrict any further. You were desperate for any kind of contact. And you knew right there and then that you had been right; This man would destroy you.

He struck then, much like a cobra towards his prey. His tongue flattened against your warmth, breaching your folds and catching on your clit. The tip of his tongue was skilled as it danced along your bud, drawing cry after cry from you as your hands grabbed at his short ink black hair.

He takes one final lap at your swollen clit before his tongue goes lower, he pushes through and sinks his tongue inside of you. His nose, that you’d appreciated for its character bumped perfectly against your clit making stars shoot behind your eyes. You clenched around his tongue, desperate to be filled, he seemed to get the message as two fingers were quickly buried in your aching hole.

“So fucking tight, Guapa, I don’t know if I can fit three...te lo vas a tomar tan bien.” His tongue had risen back up to your clit, the combination of the vibration and filth of his words made a whimper drop from your lips, before he started rotating his tongue in circles around your swollen bud as his two fingers pumped in and out of your cunt at a thundering pace drawing you closer and closer to the edge as the minutes went by.

Finally, his fingers curled inside you as he sucked your clit into his mouth and all at once you were pushed off the cliff. You couldn’t tell what pushed you over that first peak so quickly, maybe it was the fact that it was Javier, the man who had been plaguing your dreams since you arrived in Colombia, currently between your legs devouring your cunt like a starving man, perhaps it was a culmination of five days of foreplay, but whatever the reason, when you fell, you fell fucking hard.

You clenched around Javi’s fingers like a vice, so much so he hissed into your pussy and began thrusting his fingers faster. Spots clouded your vision as your whole body curved upwards and around the man giving you this pleasure as your legs clamped around his head and your fingers must have scratched his scalp as your hips thrust, riding his face to your peak. You were as taut as bowstring before the tension finally snapped and your body exploded in euphoria. You let out a cry as you crescendo on Javi's talented tongue.

He didn’t stop straight away, even after your body slumped back against the bed, he coaxed you through the aftermath of your orgasm, lapping at your entrance and drinking your come like it was the most delicious wine he’d ever sampled, groaning all the while.

Finally, he pushed himself forward, kissing at your thighs, your mound and finally your stomach as he came to rest over you, holding all his weight on his elbows. His face met your own as he kissed you deep, fucking your mouth with his tongue as he had done your pussy moments before. He leans back rubbing at your stomach, at your hips, at any flesh he can get his hands on.

“Sabes mejor de lo que podría haber imaginado precioso.” He whispers against your breast as his mouth locks around your nipple. Javier Peña speaking Spanish did things to you, even if he hadn’t been stimulating your breasts you knew for a fact you’d be just as wet from hearing him speak in what you could only assume was a first language from the ease with which it left his mouth. You wished more than anything you could understand what was undoubtedly the filth coming from his mouth.

You had recovered enough from his assault on your clit, to move your hands from your sides. They raised up and traced the tanned skin on his chest. He really was beautiful. He pulled back to stare at you, giving you a clearer view of his body.

He was muscled yet lithe and you took a self indulgent moment, committing the sight of him to memory, before your hands wrapped around his cock, which was standing to full attention through the undone zip of his jeans. He was what must have been unbearably hard, if you’d have had light to see, you had no doubt the head of his cock would be purple, straining with need. You pushed his jeans further down, recruiting your feet to push them down over his ass. Your hands roamed down to squeeze at the bountiful offering of meaty flesh.

He chuckled as you pinched his cheek, before lifting his knees one at a time and kicking his jeans off of the bed and before you knew it he was lining himself up, brushing the head of his cock through your wet folds. Despite his groan at the contact, he had the discipline to check a final time. “This is what you want, Y/N?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you pushed his hand away from his cock, and pushed it towards your hole. You pushed your hips up against him in lieu of an answer, welcoming the head of his cock inside you. Even though all you could manage was shallow entry, the feel of him inside of you was glorious.

His hands, those talented, glorious hands found your own, wrapping his significantly larger ones around yours above your head. He pushed forward with one strong thrust of those lithe hips and he buried himself balls deep inside of you, rooted so deep you swear you could feel him in your cervix. He was everywhere, he was plundering every inch of you as his body surrounded your own, heat built between the two of you as sweat began coating both of your bodies.

Every thrust brought you closer to your second peak, turning your head you couldn’t resist trying to get him to claim your mouth too. Though you couldn’t quite reach far enough to make contact, as if reading your mind Javier bent his elbow pushing his torso forward, coincidently pounding deeper into your body as your lips joined in a messy kiss. He was fucking into you slow and deep, his tongue began following the rhythm of his cock as he claimed every single part of you as his own.

The pace was brutally slow, just enough to get you to that edge and keep you on it, you could barely speak. You felt like you were drowning in Javier and every time you came up for air he bottomed out, meeting your hips with his own and the wave of pleasure cut off the oxygen all over again.

“Please… Javi…”

“W-what do you want Sunshine?” He panted out continuing with his slow tempo.

“Faster...please... God.” He ignored your cry for speed and continued fucking you into the matress at his own pace, though his thrusts were just as slow but they were harder. His hips hit against your own, as he put all of his power behind them, getting as deep as he could. If you didn’t know better you’d think he was trying to tunnel through to your womb. You clenched at the thought as he fucked you deep and hard.

“... Javi…” You cried his name, a desperate plea as he kept you suspended over your peak, refusing to let you free fall. Finally he huffed, taking your legs and throwing them over his shoulders.

“You want me to fuck you properly, huh, Guapa?” He began thrusting into you at an arduous pace, the room was filled with your cries, his grunts and slapping of your connecting skin. Those telling black spots were clouding your vision, your second orgasm of the evening was fast approaching. Once again you clenched down on Javi’s thick cock.

“I’m gonna’ come.” His hand lowered and began rubbing at your clit, not pausing for a moment as he fucked you thoroughly.

“ven por mí...ven sobre mi polla… fuckin’ Sunshine, fucking taking my cock…. buena niña, podría follarte todo el día.” The second he lost his brain and began muttering in Spanish was the moment you were gone. You came for the second time as he was relentlessly hammering into you, drawing your orgasm from you. Your whole body braced against him, your eyes squeezed shut as you clamped down around his cock, milking him tightly.

“Fuck!” He growled at the tightness surrounding him.

After a few moments he pulled out, quickly grabbing your and flipping you onto your stomach, after placing a pillow under your hips. He then buried himself back inside of you to the hilt his groans mixing with your own at the sensation. He kept up the pace he had before but this time the angle was deeper as he forced your legs together with his thighs.

Javi’s hands grabbed at your ass (perhaps he was an ass man after all) slapping the meaty flesh which resided there and then instantly kneaded the tissue he’d just abused. His hands rose to carresse the skin of your hips before he took a punishing grip on them and began fucking you in earnest. Javier taking his pleasure from your body whilst you lay a drooling mess from the orgasm he’d already gave you was an image you didn’t know would turn you on, but it made you clench around his shaft as it plundered your depths.

He began speaking again, though they were lost in a mix of Spanish and English, so much so you couldn’t differentiate. His pace was relentless and finally you felt him begin to shake as he gasped above you

“¿dónde?...w...where?”

“Come inside me, Javi.” He groaned at words and continued pounding until his hips stuttered and he brought it home and buried himself deep inside, filling you to the brim with his seed.

The two of you lay there breathing heavy trying hard to get your breath back, half of his weight on top of you and the other half resting on the mattress.His cock was slowly going soft inside of you, yet you felt no urgency to move.

“So much for scouts honor, huh?” You ask from behind a veil of hair, turning your face which had been buried in the mattress moments before. Your voice is hoarse; completely wrecked much like the rest of you.

He’s silent for a moment of consideration, before he leans forward in the moonlight and pushes your hair from your face. The action makes his cock shift inside of you and a little of his release spills out onto your thighs. He continues anyway and places a soft kiss on your lips before whispering “... I was never a boy scout, cariño.”

TAGLIST - Leave a message if you’d like to be added homies.

@drinkingwhileblogging @va-guardianhathaway @jedi-jesi @obsessivelysearching @cannedsoupsucks @wantingtobekorra @littlemissoblivious @linnie0119 @pascalesque @pedrosmustache @sir-lili @obsessivelysearching @fairytale07

A/N: Fuck me that was the steamest shit I’ve ever written. This was especially for @drinkingwhileblogging and her turquoise titties, hope this makes up for me blue balling you all.

#javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier peña x reader #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #murphy!reader #FUCKING SMIRK AT ME MORE JAVI I SWEAR TO GOD T-T #pedro pascal x reader

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ayybtch · 3 years

Text

Alcoholic Juice Box

Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Summary: Adulthood sucks. You know what doesn’t suck? Blanket forts and alcoholic juice boxes.

Word count: 1,773

Warnings: Liberal use of the word ‘fuck’ and variations of the word ‘fuck’, brief mention of financial troubles, brief mention of crappy friends and family who are too focused on their own nonsense to care about the well being of anyone else, alcohol mentions and some alcohol consumption at the very end.

A/N: This maybe got a tad personal and self indulgent (oops). Before anyone asks, yes this was my actual stress response. I’m not proud of it but it worked! 😂 also, a very special thank you goes to the lovely @kellyn1604 for giving this a quick read for me 💕

A Mutual Weirdness Masterlist

Bucky sighed in relief as he finally sat down in the back of the Quinjet. He, Sam, and Steve had been on a mission nonstop for the past twelve days tracking down Hydra agents. His whole body ached and he was desperate for some normal human interaction. Specifically, he was desperate for normal human interaction with you. All nonessential phone calls or text conversations had been prohibited, so it truly had been twelve days of uninterrupted Steve and Sam. Normally they made for great company and he enjoyed being around them. But now? Now Bucky was almost ready to never see their faces again. He thought on multiple occasions during the mission that all SHIELD trainees should have to endure Sam’s singing for hours on end as a part of their hostage training. If they can survive that with Steve’s occasional attempts at harmonizing, they can survive anything.

Once the Quinjet was in the air, he took out his phone and sent you a quick text saying they were on their way back. Not even a minute later, Bucky’s screen lit up with an incoming Facetime call from you. His heart surged at the thought of seeing you hours before he initially expected to and answered without a moment's hesitation. The smile written on his face fell as soon as he saw you.

You looked terrible. The exhaustion he felt after twelve days of work suddenly seemed like nothing compared to the exhaustion written on your face. You tried to smile at him, but the smile didn’t fully reach your eyes. Bucky’s gut twisted.

“Doll, what’s going on? Are you okay?” he asked, his voice dripping with worry.

You tried to nod yes but burst out in tears instead. The tears kept coming and after a few minutes, Bucky really started to worry.

“When you feel ready, take a couple deep breaths for me. Tell me what’s going on so I know how to help.”

It took a few minutes, but your tears started to slow and your breathing began to even out. Bucky smiled at you reassuringly as you took a few deep breaths before starting to talk.

“Bucky, I’m so sorry. You’ve been on a mission and here I am crying before you even had the chance to say hello,” you said, wiping away a stray tear rolling down your cheek.

“These past few days have just been really hard. Well, the past couple of months really, but everything’s starting to hit me all at once. School sucks, I can’t believe they’re allowed to charge me what they are. College is stressful enough as it is, why does paying for it have to be challenging too? I work thirty hours a week during the semester and over forty during breaks, yet I still can’t afford to go to school without taking out student loans. It’s bullshit. On top of all of that, I still have my regular bills to pay too!

“And as if financial stress isn’t enough, my family and friends have all decided that this week was the week to start up as much drama as possible…” you trailed off and a new round of tears began.

Bucky’s heart broke as he watched your body shake with each new sob. He desperately wished it was his hands wiping away your tears instead of your own.

The tears ended a little quicker this time, but the sadness didn’t quite leave your face as you started to speak, “My family is fighting over something stupid and using me as the go-between because I wasn’t there when the argument started. But at the same time, they’re bitching at me for ‘never being there’ when it’s their own fault for not inviting me!

“My friends are also upset that I don’t have the time to see them as often anymore and are bitching about that. One of them is freaking out in particular because she thinks she’s about to be dumped, while another is complaining about how much she doesn’t like being married because now her mother-in-law expects grandbabies. I’m fucking tired of everything and everyone.”

Bucky waited to see if you were going to continue before he spoke. “Doll, I am so sorry. That’s a lot to handle all at once. What can I do to help?”

You shook your head. “I don’t think there’s much you can do, Bucky. I just let things build up too much and they all exploded at once.” You paused for a moment and let out a bitter chuckle, “This whole adulting thing is a load of garbage. What a fucking scam. I can’t believe I ever wanted to grow up.”

Bucky couldn’t hold back his laughter. Before he could say anything though, you spoke up again

“You know what? Fuck it. I’m done being an adult. I’m going to go do something childish and ignore all my adult responsibilities.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh yeah? What childish thing are you going to do?”

You pondered for a moment, eyebrows furrowed together as you considered your options. Bucky could see the lightbulb go off in your head before a smug smile crept up onto your face. “I’m going to build a blanket fort. Nobody expects adult things from someone who’s hanging out in a blanket fort”

If you hadn’t looked and sounded so serious, Bucky would’ve laughed again. Instead, he just nodded and smiled.

You weren’t amused by his lack of enthusiasm. “Oh c’mon, are you really telling me that a blanket fort isn’t the obvious solution to my problems?”

Bucky went to reply, but you cut him off with a gasp as a look of pure joy swept across your face. The joy soon transitioned into a look that screamed pure chaos. Bucky suddenly felt nervous.

“I’m going to go to the store and get juice boxes before I start. The blanket fort was a brilliant first step in my ‘Fuck The Scam That Is Adulthood’ plan, but the juice boxes -” you mimed a chef kiss “- are the icing on the cake.”

“Juice boxes, huh? That one’s a little surprising,” he teased. “Do you want me to make you a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to go along with that? Or maybe you’d like some fruit snacks?”

You smiled devilishly back at him, “Well, it needs to be an alcoholic juice box though. That’s the one part of adulting I do like, so it gets to be the exception.”

This time Bucky didn’t even bother trying to hold back his laughter. “I’m not sure anything describes you better than an alcoholic juice box.”

“Agreed. Now if you excuse me, I’m going to go buy myself some juice boxes, make the blanket fort of my dreams, and then hide in it whilst pretending the world doesn’t exist. Come over as soon as you’re home and ready. Bring some food with you!”

The call ended abruptly and Bucky stared at the screen in disbelief for a moment before he chuckled. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes, wondering how he ended up with someone as beautiful and crazy as you. He was still worried of course. Everything you had mentioned that was contributing to your stress was a lot. He fell asleep trying to plan out how to help you and what he could do to help keep things from being bottled up for this long again.

Three hours and a hot shower later, Bucky found himself walking up the steps to your apartment with food from your favorite Chinese restaurant in hand. He unlocked the door and made his way in, kicking off his shoes by the door.

“Doll, it’s me. Where are you?”

He heard you giggle slightly before calling out to him, “I’m in my room.”

He made his way back towards your room and his feet froze before he was fully in the door. He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. You had built the most massive blanket fort he had ever seen. Fort was no longer the appropriate word to use; it was a blanket castle. He knew you were chaotic, but this...this was an entirely new level of chaotic, even for you.

Chairs from the living room and kitchen had been brought in as support beams, packing tape was being used to hold up one side of a sheet against the wall, and couch cushions were arranged to create a small tunnel as an entrance to the fort. The empty bed frame suggested you had even moved your mattress onto the floor for the sake of this damn fort. Once the initial shock wore off, he crouched down and carefully crawled inside.

Every pillow and cushion in your apartment was inside the fort with you, along with the few blankets that somehow hadn’t been used in the fort itself. You were curled up under your comforter with a bottle of wine in hand.

“I have to say when you said you were building a blanket fort I certainly did not expect something this big.” He leaned forward and gave you a quick kiss to the forehead as you giggled at his surprise.

““That’s what you get for underestimating my fort-making abilities,” You took a long sip of wine straight from the bottle before handing it to Bucky.

“I commend you on your taste in juice boxes, though I’d hardly call this a box.” he teased. He held up the bottle and looked at it closer before adding, “You also seem to have drunk most of it already. Guess I should have brought my own.” He estimated there was barely enough wine left to fill half of a glass. You sat there and shrugged.

“I’ll have you know I did consider getting a boxed wine to be more authentic. I decided against it though because that one’s harder to casually drink from. But bottle, schmottle - it’s a minor detail at this point. As to your astute observation about that one being almost empty, there are two more in the fridge. You can go open one up if you’re wanting some,” You paused for a moment before continuing, “The far more important concern right now is if you remembered to get extra egg rolls. You know how much drunk me loves egg rolls.”

Bucky rolled his eyes before dutifully reaching into the bag of takeout that had been haphazardly pushed to the side and pulling out three orders of egg rolls. A happy squeal and a quick peck on the cheek was all he needed to think that maybe your approach to adulthood wasn’t half bad.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #a mutual weirdness

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smol-and-grumpy · 3 years

Text

Good Morning - Chapter 5

Coffee shop!AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, owner of Dean’s Beans is living a humble and quiet life. Roasting beans and selling coffee in his little shop is what makes him happy. When she walked into his shop four months ago, his life changed, but is it for better or worse?

Chapter Warnings: Angst, mention of physical abuse, fluff too

WC: 2820

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

Wednesday, September 9th

Dean’s up before the alarm. It doesn’t happen that often since the alarm goes off at 5 AM and waking up before the set alarm doesn’t feel human to him.

But this morning it happened because he laid awake the whole night. He laid awake last night too, if he’s honest. Sleep is not something that comes easily since he came back from the fishing trip with Ben and had time to be alone with his thoughts again.

He thought it would be better if he sees her on Monday, that his heart would be calmer when she walks into his shop, and sets up her little workspace Dean had promised her she could have. But that never happened. She never showed up. And it irritates the shit out of him.

Dean pushes it off as she’s probably been busy, has gotten up late, and didn’t manage to come in to grab a coffee. And that she might have forgotten that he told her she could work in his shop. It’s just— it never happened before? She never stayed away on weekdays. Not in the four months he’s served her.

So yeah, he’s worried and he’s grumpy.

The whole day went by and now it’s almost closing time. He had sent Benny home. Maybe because he had gotten on Dean’s nerves the whole day. Driving him nuts and pulling his leg because Dean’s overly grouchy. But maybe it’s also because it allows him to be alone with his thoughts without having to pretend as Benny’s rants about his girlfriend of the week. Dean’s sick of that too, not that he judges but maybe, if you don’t want to commit, then don’t? Benny’s not one who likes to be tied down, yet he always lets the girls talk him into it, only to dump them several weeks later. There had been scenes in the shop, not nice ones until Dean had had enough and told Benny to never bring a girl here ever again.

Dean doesn’t know why he’s so sullen, alright? All he knows that it has been five fucking days since she was here last. It’s crazy how hung up he is on her. It’s not really a good thing.

He switches off the lights, only leaving the one at the coffee machine still shining brightly down at him while he starts to clean it. He thumbs over his phone, searches for some tunes to rock out to while cleaning. Because that’s also what he does. He likes to sing while cleaning, which annoys the fuck out of Benny.

His fingers work swiftly on the big machine, every move is programmed into his head, every motion sits right. It’s really mechanical. He's used to it, does it every day and by now, he thinks he’s able to do it with his eyes closed. Dean whistles to the tune of the music as he does, shaking his head, and mumbling the chorus.

The art of coffee. Roasting the beans, grinding them, making coffee, cleaning the machine. It became his forte, his solace and form of therapy.

He gets pulled out of his thoughts by a knock at the door.

Dean looks back, thinking it’s the back door. Thinking that maybe Benny’s forgotten something, and Dean has left the key in the lock so the other man can’t get in. When he looks back, there’s another knock and he realizes that it doesn’t come from the back.

He turns back around, sees a shadowy figure by the glass door. It has started to get dark outside, so he can only make out a shape.

Abandoning his task, he walks towards the door, the face of the person who’s knocking is hidden by the sign hanging on his shop door.

When he gets close enough to peek over the sign, Dean’s heart damn near stops beating.

He smiles, his hands are shaking and his legs almost give out, and yet, he still manages to turn the lock and open up.

Y/N looks tired, she looks a little thin. Looks like she hasn’t eaten for a couple of days. Her hair’s up in a ponytail, the circles around her eyes are dark. She hasn’t bothered with any kind of makeup. Dean doesn’t think that she needs any anyway.

“I’m sorry, I—, I didn’t,” She says, and pulls at her too large zipped hoodie that she’s wearing against the chill of the evening.

Dean can’t help but wonder if it belongs to a man. Gets a little weird feeling deep down in his guts.

“Shit,” She mumbles, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come, you are closing and… god, it’s stupid, I’m sorry,”

She turns around, and he knows that he has to stop her, and has the feeling that if he doesn’t, it’ll be a while until he’ll get to see her again.

So, Dean clears his throat, pushing words past his lips, “No, Y/N, wait,” He’s proud of himself for bringing anything past his lips, to be honest. Dean watches her turn back towards him and looks at him with that little frown as if she’s not sure. He grins, “Do you want a coffee?”

There’s a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It makes her face light up and he watches in slow motion as the smile spreads into something bigger. She exhales, tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, “Yeah,” She nods, “I’d like that. Only if it’s not too much trouble.”

How can he say that it’s the least of his troubles? How can he say that he would do so much more if it means that he gets a chance to see that smile again?

Dean doesn’t know, so all he does is shake his head, “Not at all,” He smiles back and waits for her to walk in.

Locking the door behind her, Dean follows her in further, and he notices that she’s looking at the dismantled machine.

“Oh no, you already cleaned,”

“I’m not finished,” He says and slips back behind the counter, “It’s really no trouble. Go sit, I’ll be right up,” Dean reassures her, sees her frowning at him and he has to chuckle, “Really, Y/N. It’s no big deal,”

“‘K,” She nods, bites on her lips.

He notices that there’s no gloss on it, notices a little cut too. He wonders what caused it.

As she walks further into the shop, Dean turns the music down and switches on some overhead lights. Not all of them of course. He doesn’t want to give people the impression that he’s still open, but just enough so they wouldn’t be sitting in the dark.

Dean screws the parts back to the machine with skilled fingers. He risks a glance over, sees her sitting at the same table as last time. She’s watching him too, and he feels his face warm up.

Returning to his task, Dean refills the beans and waits for the machine to warm up. When he finishes heating up the milk, he sets two mugs below it and screws the piston in. Soon, the delicious smelling black liquid pours out.

He makes her a cappuccino. Honestly, he doesn’t know if she drinks any other coffee, but he wants to find out some time.

Dean drinks his coffee black.

Carrying over the two mugs, his heart thumps a little faster the closer he gets.

“Thank you so much, you didn’t have to,” She says, her head is a little lowered. It sounds like she genuinely feels bad for stopping by.

“Really,” Dean sits down, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.” He waves her off, takes a sip of his coffee as he watches her wrap her hands around her mug, and tips it to her lips.

Y/N closes her eyes briefly as she swallows, probably letting the taste flood her nerves and mind. It shouldn’t affect him, but it does because there’s the drumming in his chest that gets slightly faster.

“I’m sorry, really,” She apologizes again, and keeps her mug at her lips, taking another sip, “I just… you know, I… Oh my god,” She sets the mug down and rubs herself over her face, “I can’t even talk,”

Dean chuckles lightly because he knows that feeling too well.

“Okay, again,” Y/N says, after she composes herself, “I didn’t know where to go and I kind of ended up here without me even realizing it. I’m sorry, I really didn’t want to hold you up. I’ll just drink the coffee and then I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Y/N, can you do me a favor?” Dean says with a straight face and a frown that’s not actually meant to intimidate her, but he realizes after he said it that it might have because he can look very intimidating, apparently. He doesn’t agree, but people have told him so.

“Huh?” She cocks an eyebrow at him and he can see the color rise in her face.

“Please stop apologizing? I mean, it’s really okay. It’s my pleasure, I’m actually happy to see you again.”

There. He said it. Without stuttering too. Although he thinks his heart dropped to his balls for a second and is trying to climb back up.

She exhales audibly and there’s that small smile, “Thank you, I just… You must have other things to do.”

He thinks about her words. Thinks about what awaits him after he cleans the shop. Thinks about his empty apartment, his empty couch, empty bed.

“I don’t,” He says truthfully, “Are you okay?” Dean asks, he doesn’t know why he does. Perhaps, because he wants to know if she’s okay. He still remembers the last time when she took off so suddenly.

“I am now, yeah,” She answers, her fingers playing with her mug.

“Why did you say you didn’t know where to go?”

“It’s been rough.” Y/N sighs and swallows. She’s about to lift her mug, but her hoodie gets in the way and she pulls the arms of them back a little subconsciously to be able to grip the mug and that’s when he sees it. Dean can not unsee it even if he would fucking try.

The bruises. It’s a greenish-purple. Meaning that it’s healing.

Dean swallows hard, but he doesn’t say anything, waits for her to set the mug down.

When she finishes her coffee, she has noticed him staring and is about to pull the arm of the sweater back. His hand shoots out, brushes over her wrist, and Dean thinks that she’s going to swat him away but she doesn’t.

“Who did this to you?” He asks with concern in his voice.

“It’s nothing,” She mumbles.

“Y/N,” Dean starts, has to swallow hard because he wonders what other bruises he would uncover if he lets her take off her hoodie. He swallows, because it physically hurts him, it irritates the fuck out of him, too. He calms himself down, at least enough to not burst out in a fit of anger, “I can see you’re not okay. You haven’t been here since Friday.”

“You’ve noticed?” She raises her eyebrow in question.

“Yeah,” Dean chuckles, “I notice when you don’t come and get your coffee. To be honest,” Dean sighs and his heart is beating a little faster, “You’re the highlight of the day, so yeah, I notice.”

She doesn’t say anything, just dips her chin down a little, the color rises in her cheeks.

“Who did this to you?” He asks again, wondering if it the one who left her a message in all caps last time. That Chris— something. Because Dean would like to rip that guy’s lungs out. “Do you need help? Can I help in any way?” He asks, when she still doesn’t answer.

“I—, It’s…. Ugh,” She closes her eyes, “It’s my ex-boyfriend.”

Ex.

At least it’s an ex. Dean can live with that.

He doesn’t say anything. He sits there, perfectly still and waits until she speaks again because there’s no point in him getting angry, even if he would love to bash that guys head in, for sure.

“It’s nothing, Dean. It’s over now.”

“Is that why he hurt you? Because you broke off with him?”

“Not necessarily. I was late getting home on Friday.”

Fuck. It was because of him, wasn’t it?

Dean swallows down the guilt he feels, “Shit, I’m sorr—”

“—No, it’s not your fault.” She’s quick to add, “It’s my fault, too.”

“Y/N, no. Someone hurting you is never your fault, you gotta know that.”

She looks down at her hands in her lap.

“Is that why you didn’t show up? Because you wanted the bruises to heal? That’s why you came here? Because you said you didn’t know where to go?”

Dean sees one single teardrop falling from her eyes to the hand in her lap.

“Shit,” Dean gets up from his chair, walks around, and takes her hands out from her lap. He helps her up to her feet, wraps his arms around her, and lets her cry into his chest.

While he lets her cry her eyes out, he strokes her back, stroke her head, feels fucking anger towards her ex.

“Are you scared to go home?”

“Uh-huh,” She mumbles into his chest.

“Does he have a key?”

“I changed the lock,”

He feels her hand coming around his middle, hugging him back. That’s a start, right? He just wishes he wouldn’t be semi-hard just from that. It’s not the fucking right time.

“Do you want to stay here? I mean, you don’t know me, but I just want to help. My apartment’s right above the shop and I have a spare bedroom.”

Y/N pushes herself away from him and looks up. Her nose is swollen and red, her eyes too. It’s too cute.

“I can’t,” She says, “I—, I mean I can’t invade your space just because I don’t like to be alone at night.”

“What if I insist?”

“Dean, really, it’s too much.”

“Okay,” He chuckles, “What would you do if you won’t stay?”

She looks down, nibbles at her lips as she thinks, “I think I’d go to the diner close to here, they open till 2 AM.”

“The crowd there’s terrible,” Dean mumbles, he’s been in there before, nobody’s usually sober in there.

“I just have to kill some time.” She shrugs and winds herself out of his embrace. He didn’t even notice that he’s still holding her.

Dean lets his hand drop to his side, missing the feeling of her body pressed to his already, “Kill your time in my apartment,” He says, “That way I know nothing will happen to you.”

She lets him guide her up to his apartment, let him show her where her bed will be for the night, lets him show her the couch, and that he has a fridge stocked with edible things.

He excuses himself to go down and lock up his shop, finishing cleaning up his machine in record time.

When Dean comes back up, she’s splayed on his couch, the blanket pulled up to her chin. Netflix is still on, some documentaries about serial killers. He hopes she doesn’t think that he is one. She’s sleeping, and Dean really doesn’t want to wake her, but he does because there’s a perfect bed in the room, she shouldn’t be sleeping on an uncomfortable couch.

“Hey,” He kneels down, hand reaching out to shake her gently.

Y/N stirs just a little before she turns and buries her face deeper into his couch. Dean wonders how much sleep she’d had lately. It might be the safest she felt in days. Maybe, weeks. He doesn’t know, doesn’t even want to think about it because it makes him mad again.

“Hey, Y/N,” Dean tries again, waiting for a reaction.

When none is forthcoming, he decides to scoop her up and carry her to bed. Dean notices as he pulls the blanket from her body that she has stripped to her shirt. Her one forearm is bruised, as well as her upper arm. Fucker must have had a tight grip around her.

He curses to himself as he carries her over to his guest room and lays her down. Dean covers her and the shirt and strokes her hair out of her face. His finger brushes along her throat, catching the collar of her shirt. The lighting is not very good, but his eyes can’t miss the bruise along her shoulder. It goes further down too, but Dean doesn’t dare to look. Doesn’t want her waking up and think that he’s being nosy. Which he really isn’t but he’s just… so fucking mad that someone did this to her.

Goddammit.

Shaking his head, he makes his way out of the room. With a last look back, he closes the door.

Chapter 6

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

#good morning #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fiction #dean winchester fan fic #dean x reader #dean x you #nathalie writes

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companionship · 3 years

Text

okay one big post to get the finale out of my system! it's been lovely reading all of your analyses and reactions, and looking at all your amazing gifs and edits :')

fair warning: this is going to be so stinking long omfg

the things i enjoyed:

vincenzo remaining an anti-hero through and through, especially the fact that he didn't hold back at all when it came to myunghee and hanseok's death. he gave them a taste of their own medicine and then some forreal, their deaths were brutal but oddly satisfying, and i'm saying this as someone who usually hates violence/gore. throughout the show, they've always hinted at what he was Truly Capable Of and boy did we get to see it

vincenzo fumbling in hanseok's house and not being his usual self – a lot of people thought it was ooc, which i understand! i felt like that was the Point, to show that for once, he's not the invincible mafia consigliere that everyone thinks he is. what he did to the man who killed his mother and the army of security guards was a reaction, but this is the first time he's flustered, caught at a disadvantage, and faced with the very real possibility that he might lose somebody incredibly important to him. idk it made him more human to me

vincenzo literally not hesitating for even 0.1 seconds to fold his entire body around hers when he thought hanseok was going to shoot again – yeah that whole bit made my heart clench i feel like a crazy person i won't get over it

the chayenzo hospital scene... my god it was so tender my heart broke. the laugh they both shared, out of sheer relief that she's okay. the little joke about paying for the private room. the way not much was being said, but everything was being said at once. the way they looked at each other, as if it wouldnt ever be enough :( the quiet acceptance that this is their last night together, and that he's going to have to kill a bunch of people after this, but for now they have this. for however brief.

chayoung being chayoung – her big ass personality at the courtroom at the end after winning ms oh's case. her hopping around in those heels, looking elegant and sleek, mocking the hell out of rich conglomorates. she's in her element again and it made me so, so happy to see. i absolutely adore her, she's everything really. after all that loss and the whole ordeal, i'm glad she's able to return to what she does best: putting capitalists back in their place

mr lee being Very Much Not Dead – idk how i wouldve been able to handle it after witnessing hanseo's death like im glad he got the chance to be a dad

the kiss – my god....

the things i didn't like:

hanseo's death – lmao is it even a surprise... say what you will about his death being foreshadowed, but i really just hated hated it. i hate that hanseok won this one. i hate that hanseo worked so hard to redeem himself, only to lose it all. i hate that he was given a taste of what a real family was like, and then having it taken away so cruelly. even though i said above that i didn't mind that vincenzo was ooc at the mansion, i was still screaming at the screen because there were plenty of opportunities for the situation to be reversed. i don't necessarily blame vincenzo for hanseo's death, but i do wish that they had a funeral scene for him. i wish they acknowledged his sacrifice, and how pivotal he was in turning the tables. if not for hanseo, vincenzo really couldn't have pulled any of this off, from the interpol tipoff to the tracking device in the watch. idc idc hanseo is in malta rn, enjoying the sun and the beach, going to therapy, and teaching the local kids how to play hockey even though there's no ice :(

chayoung being bedridden the whole finale – like... NAH lmao this aint it chief... if things went my way, she wouldve gotten out of the hospital depite her injury and dealt with myunghee before handing her off to vincenzo. i loved their animosity for each other, and i wanted chayoung to be the one at myunghee's apartment waiting for her, rubbing it into her face. i wanted chayoung to verbally finish myunghee with that sharp ass tongue of hers and really dump a load of salt on her wounds. then vincenzo could do whatever the hell he wanted. you could argue that the show is called Vincenzo but i really dont care lmao it started with chayoung avenging her dad and she should've been able to strike the final blow. also what was her big second party? are we really just going to ignore her capacity for evil? after all that moral work done, after that time she spent coming to terms with using evil to combat evil, we're just going to... keep her bedridden? park jaebum u will pay for this

vincenzo losing his family – besides hanseo's death, i think this was what i hated the most from the ending. the start of the show showed us vincenzo's departure from the mafia with the very clear intention of Not Returning. the capo died, his loyalties lie with no one, paolo can suck it. throughout the show, we see him repeat over and over that he wants to get the gold and skip off to malta to enjoy a peaceful life there, while reflecting/repenting for the things he's done. vincenzo was gearing up for a lifetime of solitude. the whole point of the show was for him to find a real family and have a real chance at happiness. park jaebum really said FUCK THAT! we're gonna have him ditch the family that he built from scratch with the love of his life and then make him return to the family that tried to kill him AND make him the capo... pjb said we're gonna separate vincenzo from the family that accepts his past and sees it as a strength and not a weakness. the family that was formed out of solidarity, the family that he fought for and fought alongside with blood, sweat and tears. not to mention the goddaughter of his? sorry i would laugh if it didn't actually rile me up so bad

vincenzo not being able to come back to korea – i've said this in another post of mine, but given that he is The Vincenzo Cassano with all those resources at his disposal (guillotine file, mr ahn/mr cho/the chief etc.), the fact that he isnt even able to stay in korea for 30 fuckin minutes after finishing hanseok was ridiculous. the whole police chase was dumb as hell considering that the show has managed to stop politicians and mf presidential candidates from going after him like ? huh LMAO park jaebum had an on-demand pigeon army in this show and Yet he can't stop like 10 suddenly-righteous policemen. another big ass HUH

chayenzo (here we go...):

NOPE! i've reflected on the ending and decided that i'm going to be petty and salty for a while more before coming to terms with it

i can rationalise and try to be positive and tell myself that their love is enduring can transcend space and time and that in due time, they will find their way back to each other, and i have no doubt that they will because they're one soul in two bodies. it's quite literally canon that they're soulmates.

but let me wallow for a second

here we have two people who have done questionable and terrible things in their past coming together, growing together, grieving together, fighting together... you get the gist of it. you have two people who have found a home in each other. two people who, for all intents and purposes, were about to live in a whole lot of bitterness and solitude if not for each other and the life they built together (chayoung didn't have friends like that, and her family is gone too). to separate them like that at the very end is cruel. i know chayoung and vincenzo are mature and incredible and will be able to function without the other next to them. i know that they will still excel as lawyers and will defeat evil with their underhand methods the way they do so well but my god are they going to feel the absence and miss each other

my point is that they shouldn't have to. from what i could tell, they can't even communicate on a regular basis bc he'll be tracked and whatnot, hence the postcards. a postcard every month is a poor substitute for all those nights they stayed up drinking makgeolli and celebrating their wins. its a shitty replacement for coffee dates and fist bumps and all the moments in between. after everything they've been through, after literally fighting to death for their family, they don't deserve this. they don't deserve to meet up once a year for a couple of hours. they don't deserve pockets of time in malta or korea, their life in a perpetual countdown to when they're going to see each other next

they both deserve love and some semblance of peace (finally finally). they both deserve to have someone to come home to after a hard day of work, because doing what they do cannot be easy. they both deserve a family, deserve to have someone next to them that accepts their past and would embrace their future. they both deserve a hand to hold and a shoulder to lean on. i know they will still be It for each other despite the distance, i just wish the distance didn't even exist in the first place bc its stupid and cruel and their love shouldnt have to be proven or tested with time and space. let them stay together. let them grow together. let them be.

side note: song joongki and jeon yeobeen need another project together idc take it up with god

tl;dr: park jaebum u will be paying for my therapy bills

#vincenzo #tvn vincenzo #this was cathartic #if u made it to the end here's ur kiss #this is more for archival purposes than anything #also this is what happens when my best friends arent caught up yet and i have no outlet

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underfell-crystal · 3 years

Text

~~Catch and Keep~~

An AU where Harp (named Fern in this AU) is stuck underground with @avtfol 's Fallen Soul crew, properly deemed the 'Fallen Soul AU'. Warning: I went a little crazy with this and it's super long.

TW: Starving, being chased, kidnapping kinda, a bit of swearing

Fern had been down here for five months. She honestly didn't know how she had survived. Each encounter with any monsters threatened to shatter the orange heart she'd learned was the culmination of her being.

Five months down here with barely any food had taken a toll on her body. She was far thinner and bonier than she would've liked, but hey, at least she wasn't dead yet.

She was on her daily route through the watery area of wherever she was, past the brutally cold snow. There was much more life here, not to mention warmer, if only by a bit. Learning which things she could and couldn't eat had taken some trial and error (another few close calls with death), but she had finally gotten most of Waterfall's plants categorized into 'edible' or 'non-edible'.

Crouching next to a glowing mushroom, she took out her pocket knife and carefully cut away a piece, tucking it into a fairly clean cloth. She continued to do this to a few more mushrooms, pausing to make sure there were no sounds of anything else moving nearby before crouching down and devouring the glowy, rubbery-feeling mushrooms. They didn't taste the best, but they kept her alive.

After eating her share of mushrooms, she stood up to get away from the path. Then she saw the shadow. Her gaze slowly traveled from the shadow to the shiny gold and aqua boots, going all the way up to the person's- skeleton's???- face. One green light and one red light stared back at her.

Shit.

She turned and bolted into the tall grass, a startled shout of surprise coming from behind her. Nope. Nuh uh. She would rather not have a near death encounter, thank you very much!

From what she could tell, the skeleton wasn't chasing her, so after a while she stopped to catch her breath. Stars, how tall had it been?? Much taller than her, she knew that. Seven feet? Maybe eight? She prayed this was a one time encounter. She didn't want to actually be involved in an encounter with it. Something that big would not pull its punches when fighting.

It wasn't a one time encounter. Fern kept running into the skeleton. After her first glimpse of him at Waterfall, she ran into him four other times at different places and times. She thought the skeleton was a 'he' from the alarmingly deep voice that came from his fanged jaws whenever he saw her. She never stuck around long enough to hear what he was saying, with the current encounter being no exception.

As she turned and started running away from the massive skeleton, she felt something whizz past her, and something suddenly appeared in her way. She shrieked in alarm and crashed into them, stumbling backwards in horror when she realized it was the same skeleton she was just running away from. How-?

He reached his arm out to her, and she scuttled backward, tripping over a root and landing on her behind. He looked unimpressed with her attempt to flee him again and strode closer. He picked her up like she weighed nothing, tossing her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. She squawked in fear, flailing around and trying to free herself. The skeleton seemed unfazed and started walking while she failed to free herself from his grasp. Stars, why did she have to be cursed with tiny arms and legs...

After a few minutes of struggling, she gave up and laid limply on the shoulder of the tall skeleton carrying her. Where was he taking her? Why didn't he just kill her? Was he taking her back to his place to eat her?? Wait, did monsters even eat humans?

She didn't even notice they had arrived at their destination until she heard the sound of a door opening, which snapped her out of her thoughts. Fern looked around, confused. He had taken her to some kind of house in.... what had the sign called it? Oh, right. Snowdin.

She felt the hand on her back move, and she was promptly pulled off the skeleton's shoulder and plopped unceremoniously onto the couch with a squeak. She just laid there, frozen, staring up at the skeleton looming above her. After a minute of him just staring at her, he sighed. "You're very dirty. You need a shower."

"I- huh??"

What? This guy had kidnapped her to... make her take a shower??? Okay, she knew she probably looked and smelled awful, but she hadn't been bothering anybody, so.... why was she here? He looked irritated. "Are you deaf?"

"No! I'm just..... Why am I here???"

He tilted his skull, looking down at her. "You would've died out there sooner or later."

She felt like there was something else that made him decide to go through all this trouble just to catch a human, but she decided to focus on what he'd told her. "What? I was doing fine on my own!"

"All it takes is one or two unlucky encounters with some monsters and you would've been a corpse."

Wow, okay, morbid much? "Uh....... Thanks? I think?"

"You can thank me once you no longer stink of rot and dirt."

Fern bit back her irritation. It wasn't like there were just showers in the middle of the woods and marshes, Mr. Skeleton. Plus, when she did shower under the waterfalls, she just got dirty again. And it wasn't like she was aiming to impress anybody with her looks. "Okay, fine. Where's the bathroom?"

"Second floor. First door. Leave your dirty clothes outside the door."

Keeping an eye on the monster, Fern made her way upstairs, following the monster's directions. Inside the bathroom, everything was slightly bigger than she remembered; probably to accommodate the eight foot tall Goliath downstairs. She shook her head. She could still see over the sink and into the mirror. She blinked at the dirty face in front of her. She barely recognized herself.

Shaking her head, she turned on the faucet to the shower and peeled off her gross, dirty clothes. Okay, yeah, they felt good to take off. She opened the door a bit to drop her dirty clothes outside the door before shutting and locking it. Steam slowly filled the room, and she could barely contain her glee as she stepped into the hot stream of water. Oh my stars.... It had been AGES since she'd had a hot shower. She noted there was no shampoo or conditioner (with the skeleton, she highly doubted there was a NEED for such things), but there was bar soap, which she seized and immediately started using to clean herself off. She could FEEL all the dirt and grime and 'wilderness' in general washing off her the longer she stood in the hot water.

She stayed in there for about an hour, scrubbing herself clean and letting all the dirt on her body wash off. It felt so nice to finally rub all that dirt off her face. Finally, when she felt sufficiently washed, she turned off the water and grabbed one of the large, fluffy towels hanging from the door. It easily covered her entire body when she wrapped it around her shoulders. Well... Being short in a house that belonged to a giant had SOME perks, she mused as she dried herself off.

Wait.

Clothes. Where....?

Making sure she was still wrapped up and covered, she opened the door and saw a neatly folded pile of clothes sitting next to the door. Oh. He had washed them. She grabbed them and brought them back inside the bathroom, changing back into her fresh (although worn) clothes. It had been so long since she'd been clean. She looked through the cabinets, and, surprisingly, she found a comb. The skeleton didn't have hair, but she decided not to question it, combing out her tangled, stark white hair. Detangling her hair was an entirely different beast that she managed to defeat in about fifteen minutes, finally letting herself examine her reflection in the mirror again.

Ah.

That looked more like the Fern she used to see in the mirror. Her face was still pale and thin, but it was... a start.

Oh right. There was still an eight foot tall skeleton downstairs, waiting for her.

Well, best not to keep him waiting...

She unlocked the bathroom door again and stepped out, descending down the stairs as quietly as she could. The skeleton wasn't in view. For a moment, she considered running for it. But, he hadn't tried to kill her yet, plus he had given her a hot shower. So, she sighed and sat on the couch to wait.

--Copper POV--

He was in the kitchen when he heard the faint sound of the bathroom door opening. Quiet footsteps made their way down the stairs, pausing before continuing for a moment, followed by the creaking of the couch. Good. The human hadn't tried to run off.

He walked out of his brother's room and down the stairs. The human was sitting on the couch, staring at him with large, light blue eyes, almost expectantly. He had to admit, without all the dirt and mud on them, they were fairly attractive. The human coughed. "So, uh..... Why am I here? Why are you being nice to me?"

He strode to stand in front of the human, folding his arms. "I brought you here because I want to test you."

".... On what? Math?"

"What? No. On your strength."

"Look, uh, Mr. Skeleton, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're almost twice as tall as me, and my arms look like literal twigs right now."

Oh, right. He knew he had forgotten something. Sustenance. Human bodies required a lot of upkeep. Without responding, he marched to the kitchen and hunted through the fridge for something to reheat, his multi-colored gaze landing on a tupperware full of spaghetti. Perfect. Pulling the plastic box out, he dumped the contents onto a plate and stuck it into the microwave, turning to observe the human again. "My name is Copper. Captain Copper."

"Uh.... Fern..."

Fern... An interesting name choice. "You were named after a plant."

Fern made a face at him, scrunching up her nose and sticking out her bottom lip. "You were named after a metal."

Well, his real name wasn't, but the human didn't need to know that. "... Fair enough."

"So, you kidnapped me just to make me take a shower and then... fight me?"

"If that's how you want to put it, then yes."

"And what if I don't want to fight you?"

The human was tense. Nervous. It was kind of endearing, how they tried to seem unafraid but were practically shaking. He briefly considered telling the human he would kill them if they didn't challenge him, but decided to have mercy on the skittish little thing. "It's not exactly a fight. An arm wrestling competition, if you will."

"Uh, my arms are still twigs, man."

"Correct. Which is why you'll be eating actual food and not those glowing mushrooms."

"You're.... Feeding me?"

"I can't have a fair fight if my opponent is withering away."

The microwave beeped, and Copper took it out, stirring it with a fork before walking back to the human and holding it out. The human gave him a suspicious look, and he rolled his eyelights. "It's spaghetti. It's not poisoned or anything."

"... Fuck it, I'll take my chances."

Copper had never seen anyone inhale their food quite as fast as the human inhaled the spaghetti. He didn't think they even chewed. In less than a minute, all the spaghetti had been sucked up and devoured by the ravenous human. He was... kind of impressed, if he was being honest with himself. They set the empty plate down, wiping their mouth free of the sauce. "... I haven't had actual food in AGES."

"How long have you even been out there?"

"Eh..... Five months, give or take."

Five months... Copper supposed he shouldn't have been surprised with how wild she looked, but jeez, five months was a long time for a human to survive down here on their own. "I see."

He turned away from the human. "For now, I will feed you and make sure monsters aren't actively trying to kill you. However, there will be rules if you're going to stay here. The first is that you're not allowed outside on your own until it has been established that no monsters will attack you. The second is that if I tell you to do something, you have to do it. If I say run or hide, you will do those things. The final rule is that you-"

As he turned to look at the human, he was met with their unconscious form draped over the cushions. He faltered, then sighed. The human was probably rather tired. Well, they clearly hadn't slept in an actual bed in a while. No use leaving them on the couch in that uncomfortable-looking position. With a sigh, he scooped up the human and went upstairs, laying them on his bed. They were so... small...

He shook his head out of his thoughts. Enough of that.

He had work to do.

#oc oneshots #oc short story #harp and copper #fern #fallen soul au #fern and copper

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bastardtetsu · 3 years

Text

{day 09} vanilla ice cream | tsukki x reader

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

genre: enemies to lovers, secret pen pal, mutual pining a lil bit?

wc: 1.5k

warnings: sick reader (hangover/cold), mention of drinking, some swearing, tsukki showing human empathy

⍋⋆*❅｡. 25 days of fic-mas mlist .｡❅*⋆⍋

somehow it all reminds me of doctor jekyll and mister hyde for right before my eyes, a man that i despise has turned into a man i like

—vanilla ice cream; she loves me (music by jerry bock, lyrics by sheldon harnick)

the first thing you notice as you wake up is your pounding headache. it’s hard to be surprised at your state after the amount of alcohol you consumed last night - not without good reason, of course. as awful as you’re feeling now, it’s nothing compared to the hell that was last night.

it wasn’t supposed to go like that - it was supposed to be a magical, maybe even romantic evening. you had been looking forward to meeting your mystery friend ever since the two of you started messaging each other online, but you hadn’t expected to develop a full-blown crush on this person without even finding out what they look like.

but the more you got to know their personality, exchanging playlists and talking about your similar tastes in music, the more your messages to each other became fonder, even flirty at times. perhaps it was the level of anonymity that made you both so comfortable talking to each other, but you quickly became each other’s most trusted confidants.

when you started working at the record store, things became a little more stressful as you adjusted to your schedule becoming tighter, having to handle the occasional nasty customer, and dealing with one coworker in particular who must have being rude to you written into his DNA. talking with your anonymous friend is a much-needed escape, a distraction from the mundane, a hidden treasure that only you get to enjoy.

so as you sat waiting in the cafe last night, a rose laid out on the table as you had promised your dear friend, nothing could’ve killed your vibe faster than the aforementioned rude coworker - tsukishima kei - showing up and ruining everything.

you could tell he was only there because you’d insisted on leaving work early to make this date, and he wanted to see if you were lying. he only proved his intentions more when he had the audacity to sit down at your table and make jabs at you for meeting up with someone you met online.

“you’ve been waiting an awful long time haven’t you?” he taunted.

“tsukki, if you don’t leave this table—“

“and you’ve never even met them? this is how people get murdered, you know,” he sneered condescendingly. you almost got thrown out because of how loudly you screamed at him. thankfully you didn’t - although you did seem to strike some nerves with tsukishima, which you felt a bit bad about - but even though you waited at the cafe until closing, nobody showed up, leaving you alone with a single rose and a full bottle of wine.

needless to say, you have every reason to feel like shit this morning. not only are you hungover and heartbroken, having heard nothing but radio silence from your friend, you’re starting to feel lightheaded and stuffy-nosed too. you waste no time calling in sick, burying yourself in your blankets as you try your best to shut out the pounding in your head and the salty tears beginning to sting the backs of your eyelids.

suddenly, a knock at the door jolts you back to reality. “who is it?” you call out weakly.

another knock. you drag yourself out of bed with a quiet groan and go to answer the door, only to be met with a familiar lanky blond.

“what do you want, tsukishima,” you demand dryly, “did you have something you forgot to say last night? if you do say it fast, i don’t feel well today.”

“yeah i know, you called out of work,” he replies ambivalently, “that’s why i’m here.”

“oh, so you’re here to check up on me again, make sure i’m not slacking off?” you taunt him, your temper rising.

“that’s not—“

“you gonna go back to work and tell everyone i’m lying? that i just don’t care about my job?”

“no i’m n—“

“well joke’s on you, four-eyes, ‘cause guess what? i’m not giving you the chance.” you immediately start gathering your belongings, preparing to go to work.

“what?”

“i won’t be that late,” you mumble to yourself, throwing a coat over your arm as you hurriedly grab your keys, “fuck— where the hell is my other shoe??”

“oi,” tsukishima says firmly, “y/n. you need to lie down.”

“fuck off,” you bite back at him.

“no seriously, you look like you have a fever.”

“i don’t care,” you snarl, “help me look for my shoe, i know it’s here somewhere—HEY!!!”

there’s not much you can do but continue screaming at him as tsukishima scoops you up in his scrawny arms - which are evidently way stronger than they look - and carries you to your bed, dumping you unceremoniously on top of the blankets.

“THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?” you shout. he just shrugs.

“what was i supposed to do? you wouldn’t get back in bed.” he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. arrogant prick. you slump down into your blankets, feeling too depleted to pick a fight anymore.

“i brought you something.”

your head shoots up as a plastic grocery bag lands next to it. opening it up, you find a tub of vanilla ice cream inside. “it’s the best thing to eat when you’re sick,” he states.

“a-ah,” you stutter hesitantly, “thanks.” is tsukishima being… nice to you?

“did that uh… friend of yours ever show up?” he asks cautiously.

“no,” you mutter bitterly, “i waited til closing. guess you were right, meeting some stranger from the internet really was a stupid idea.”

“hm,” he grunts awkwardly, looking away from you.

“i mean,” you continue, “the least they could’ve done was give me some sort of explanation. instead they just fucking ghosted—“

“they didn’t ghost,” tsukishima interjects suddenly, almost defensive. “i mean— it hasn’t even been a day, they’ll probably hit you up later.”

“and how do you know?”

“because—“ he stops short, hesitating for a moment before continuing, “i saw the guy last night. on the way out of the cafe.”

“wait—what??” you exclaim, “you saw them? how do you know??”

“they were supposed to be holding a rose, right? like the one you had?”

“yeah— wait, how do you know about that?”

“it wasn’t hard to figure out. people usually don’t sit at cafes with loose flowers on the table unless it’s something dumb like that.”

“shut up, you wouldn’t know romance if it bit you in the ass,” you snap back, “so he’s a guy? what did he look like? did you talk to him? what did he say?”

“yeah, uh— he asked if i knew you,” tsukishima recounts, “and he wanted me to tell you he’s sorry for bailing, but something else came up.”

“anything else??” the eager glow in your eyes is suffocating as you stare him down, hungry for more details.

“yeah. he— he was kinda ugly.”

“…seriously?” you respond, half unimpressed with his attempt at a joke and half nervous that he isn’t joking at all.

“what, does that matter?” tsukishima replies mockingly, “i thought you liked him for his personality.”

“i do,” you jab, “and you know what, i don’t care what he looks like. and i certainly don’t care about what your salty ass thinks of him. i’m gonna message him right now, actually”

“have fun,” he says dismissively, turning to make his way out before pausing to pull a record from the vinyl collection on your shelf. “you like this album?”

“yeah, duh. it’s been one of my favorites for years.”

“huh. me too,” he replies, “it’s crazy how it stays with me. sometimes i swear i can hear it in my head while i’m asleep.”

“that’s funny,” you say, “my friend does the same thing. he hears it in his sleep.”

“heh. that is funny,” he mutters quietly as he turns to leave.

“tsukki—“ you stop him before he exits, “thanks for today. you’re not as awful as i thought.” a tentative smile graces your lips.

“whatever,” he mutters, quickly turning his face away from yours, “see you at work tomorrow.” as he retreats out the door, he prays you didn’t notice his blushing cheeks.

once tsukishima is out the door, you waste no time crafting a new message to your friend - but you find yourself struggling to piece together sentences as you snack on the ice cream tsukki brought you, the cold sensation easing your aching throat. was that really the same guy who’s been an asshole to you since the day you started working with him?

it’s incredible that the two of you even spent 2 minutes together without being at each other’s throats like usual, and even more so that someone as harsh and bitter as tsukishima would do something as kind as show up at your door with ice cream when you’re sick. he even said something to make you feel better - and it worked.

realizing that you’ve zoned out, you quickly snap your attention back to your message. but as you continue typing, you find your thoughts continually drifting back to the tall, bespectacled blond and his uncharacteristic kindness.

by the time you manage to write what you have to say and hit send, tsukishima is safely out of earshot when the new message pings on his phone.

he smiles and hopes that you figure it out soon, too.

a/n: i hope the ending for this one is clear addsdsdf,,,, i watched the entire roundabout she loves me revival to get inspired for this (and by get inspired i mean remember the plot details of she loves me bc i had only seen it once before lmao) tbh the narrative of this fic actually covers like 3 different songs, bc old musicals are weird and thought it was necessary to make looking for a shoe an entire number. anyways, all I have to offer you today is laura benanti being utter perfection and all of my love <3

taglist: @izagraceee @musicgetsmeoutofbed @azo-musxas @tsumurai @ghostlydiamond135 @animeboysimppp

#haikyuu!!#tsukishima kei #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukki x reader #haikyuu x reader #25 days of ficmas #e writes #.txt

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sylvesterlestermanchester · 3 years

Text

Fearfully and Wonderfully

Summary: Dan wasn’t entirely sure what he was going to experience when he starts his first semester at Uni, but he was pretty sure an incredibly sheltered Catholic boy stealing his heart wasn’t on his list of typical college tropes.

Word Count: 12401

Genre: Humor, fluff, angst. All mixed together. Fun times!

Warnings: Conversion therapy, homophobia, brief allusions to sex and genitals. One puke joke?

A/N: This is my first ever published fic-I’ve been writing for literally years little bits and pieces, but COVID has me going crazy and I just wanted to put some effort into an actual thing. Thanks for reading!

Dan wasn’t sure what he was expecting when he walked through the door to his dorm the first time, parents and sullen little brother in tow. All of his knowledge about Uni had been from TV and movies-maybe he would have some frat guy in the bed across from him, or maybe a stoner, or maybe a weird silent dude who will disappear after the first week and let Dan put their beds together so they would actually fit his gangly body.

What he isn’t expecting is to have an eight-year-old girl bodyslam herself into his legs, followed by a loud groan and a sharp voice scolding “Suzanne, we told you to stop running!”

Dan’s eyes look down at the (quickly retreating) girl and blinks a few times as he takes in the scene in front of him. There are way too many people in the crowded room right now-he counts two identical boys, both around 10, bouncing on the stiff dorm bed, one pre-teen digging through a cardboard box, a girl around Adrian’s age whispering something to an older woman with a toddler in her arms, standing next to a quiet-looking tall man, and, of course, the eight-year-old, now having been scooped up by a sheepish looking guy around Dan’s age who’s giving him an apologetic smile. This must be the Philip Lester on his room assignment form. “Sorry. My family is kind of, erm, excited.” He says with a small, nervous laugh and sets the girl aside before sticking out a hand to shake. “I’m Phil! You must be, um...Daniel, right?”

Dan takes a second to readjust the bags in his arms to shake Phil’s hand awkwardly, trying not to look too overwhelmed at the scene in front of him. “Dan’s fine.”

The kids have all frozen in place, staring at Dan with wide eyes like Dan just sprouted a second head. There’s a few long beats of silence as Phil shakes his hand just a little too enthusiastically for just a bit too long.

Finally, Phil’s mum places a hand on her son’s shoulder, beaming brightly. “It’s so great our boys will be living together!” She cheers to Dan’s mum, who looks a bit bewildered. Ms. Lester gently takes a few of Dan’s bags and sets them on the bed, continuing to chatter on. “Come on, we can unpack while you two get to know each other better. I need to know who my son is going to be rooming with, right?” She continues to babble in a thick northern drawl as Dan glances back at his parents, who look like they’re about to bolt for the door and leave their son to be swallowed whole by these people.

“You’re rooming with an absolute freak,” Adrian mumbles in his ear with a small smirk. “Karma is a bitch, huh?” “Shut up.” Dan hisses back through his teeth, trying to look as interested as possible as Phil’s mum keeps talking.

“The weather here is so nice-it’s already getting cold up in Rossendale, can you believe it? Max and Adam were running around outside, and I was so scared they were gonna catch cold, you know how quickly little ones do. Oh, the drive here was wonderful-” “We saw cows!” One of the kids butts in, and suddenly they’re all talking, any nervousness they had around the strangers suddenly vanishing.

“And horses!” “We got hamburgers, and there was this huge truck-it had to have, like, forty wheels-” Phil seems to take after his dad, quietly but quickly unpacking since his siblings have seemingly given up on it in favor of telling Dan’s family every detail of the six-hour car ride. At one point he makes eye contact with Phil, who gives him an apologetic look, his cheeks flushed and an embarrassed grin on his face as the kids chatter along excitedly like they’ve never talked to another person before.

Finally, right when Dan feels like his ears are going to fall off, Phil speaks up again. “I-I think I can get this from here, guys. Mum, Dad, why don’t we go out for a walk before we say goodbye? I know you guys want to see the geese on campus, right?” The kids all cheer like geese are the most exciting thing on Earth, scrambling for the door. Phil’s mum gives Dan a tight hug and Phil’s dad, still not having spoken a single word, even gives his shoulder an uncomfortable pat before they head out. The small space suddenly feels vast and empty, and the silence is almost tangible. “Well. They seemed...friendly.” Dan’s mum says after a few moments, his dad snorting.

“You’re in for quite a year, huh, kid?” He jokes. Dan laughs weakly, but in all honesty, it doesn’t seem that funny.

Just what did he get himself into?

Dan’s curled up in his bed when Phil finally comes back a few hours later, giving Dan that same crooked, shy grin from earlier. Now that it’s just him and not him with (presumably) his entire Brady Bunch-style family, he can get a better look at his roommate. He’s tall, about an inch taller than Dan, and lanky. His black jeans are just a bit high on his ankles, and his faded green shirt clings to his skinny frame. As Dan’s eyes travel higher he takes in his flushed cheeks, his blue eyes wide behind his oversized glasses, all behind shaggy black hair that doesn’t match his ginger eyebrows-ginger like every other family member of his. Dan suddenly feels a bit self-conscious in his Game of Thrones pajamas and old school shirt, pulling his covers up a bit higher as he takes in the other young man with a strange feeling in his chest. He’s definitely different than anyone Dan’s ever known. But damn, if he isn’t cute.

“Sorry if my family was a lot today.” He says after a slight moment of silence, a slight giggle slipping out as he walks over to one of the boxes on his side of the room. “I’m the first to go to Uni out of my brothers and sisters, so my parents decided to, like, make it into a whole thing.”

The memory of the chaos is still fresh in Dan’s mind, but hearing Phil talk about it, he can’t help but smile a bit as well. “I’m the oldest, so I get it. And they were nice. Your siblings are very...uh, talkative.” He says slowly, trying not to sound rude, but Phil’s giggling again before he can worry too much about it.

“We’re from kind of the middle of nowhere, so they’re just excited to see, like, humans outside of Rossendale for the first time.” Phil joked as he started reorganizing some of the things his siblings had just sort of dumped around the room. “Plus, they don’t usually get sugar, but they had soda on the way here. So they were practically about to explode by the time we pulled in. They just exploded all of that excitement onto you.”

Dan can’t help but laugh a bit at that as he watches Phil set some thick books up one way and then rearranges them. “Oh, Jesus. That car ride must have been nuts.” Phil looks over his shoulder, grinning wider now. He looks more and more relaxed each minute, as if he was just as nervous about Dan as Dan was about him. “You have no idea, oh my gosh. They were already wound up for today, and then there was soda, and Max and Alex-they get carsick even worse than I do, and then Suzanne had to pee, like, forty times an hour, and Mum was all weepy...this has been the longest day of my life.” He joked, laughing along with Dan.

Even though Dan can’t connect any of the kids to their names, he feels like he knows them decently well. In fact, as the conversation drifts into more goofy road trip stories, Dan’s surprised with just how close he feels to Phil like they’ve known each other before they even met.

It’s strange, he finds. But then again, Phil’s pretty strange, after all.

Dan doesn’t fully realize how strange Phil is until the next day. There’s a few hints-Dan makes a reference to some TikTok audio and Phil admits he’s never used it before, staring in awe as Dan scrolls through his ForYou Page for him. When they head off to orientation in one of the lecture halls, Phil’s head jolts up and his face flushes bright red when one of the countless speakers jokingly curses (if you can count “ass” as a curse-Dan honestly can’t). But it’s not until they’re out at the quad with some of their new peers for lunch when Chris turns to Phil and asks if he went to the school his cousin went to up north. “Oh, I didn’t go to school.” Phil says with a bright smile, before quickly adding “I mean-I was homeschooled. So I just kinda did the work when I wanted to.”

“Your parents homeschooled you? Didn’t Dan say you had, like, twenty siblings?” Louise questions as they all turn to look at Phil. Dan feels a migraine coming on just imagining being home with all of those kids all bloody day, though he can actually picture Mrs. Lester teaching them all pretty well. Phil laughed a bit, cheeks flushing pink as he looked down at his sandwich.

“We all were. My mum and dad didn’t like the schools in our area-they wanted us to be more connected to the church, said that “our values weren’t instilled in traditional education’.” He explained with a small shrug. When PJ raised an eyebrow at that Phil pulled a small cross necklace out from under his shirt. “I’m Catholic. I actually have plans for Seminary after getting my bachelor’s-so if you’re planning on getting married, I’m taking bookings now.” Phil’s last comment was clearly meant to lighten up the mood, but it’s obvious that the subject matter was making the group a little uncomfortable, considering they all just met. Dan’s mentally running through Phil’s belongings in their dorm-were all those books Bibles? Was he going to start hanging crosses everywhere? Or make him wake up early on Sundays?

Before his brain could spiral out further Chris blurted out “So, were you raised in a Jesus bubble or something?” Louise smacks his arm but Phil giggled. “I-I have been told I’ve lived a bit of a sheltered life before, yeah.” “Were you allowed...TV?” PJ asks slowly, eyes widening when Phil shook his head.

“Not cable. We could watch DVDs, but they had to be approved, so it was usually educational. I know a lot of animal facts, actually. Did you know hippo-”

“What about the internet?” Louise cuts him off.

“Not after my older brother got caught Googling “bikini girls” when he was 10.” Phil joked lightly. “But even before that, my mum was pretty anti-internet. If I really needed it for school or whatever, I’d go down to the library.”

“No Harry Potter?” “Promotes witchcraft. Apparently. I haven’t read it for myself, but-”

“Dating?” “Not without serious intention to marry-and I’m not exactly ready for that, so-” “Running water?” “You know what’s funny?” Phil says, giggling a bit and bringing his knees loosely to his chest. “You guys think I’m weird, which is totally understandable. But your guys’ lives before this sound weird to me, too. Like-Chris, you got to play video games as a kid, right? And I was taught that those would turn me into some homicidal maniac. Dan, I saw you have a horoscope app-that’s the occult, so that’s a huge no-no.” Wow, okay. Before Dan could feel too offended, though, and Chris could jump in, Phil keeps going. “But, like, I get that you’re not a witch, or Chris, you’re not gonna chop me up into little pieces when I’m sleeping. There’s gotta be some middle ground here, right? So...you guys could show me how to live more like you, and maybe you guys would be more interested in what I’m into?”

There’s a small silence that falls across the group before a wicked grin slowly appears on Louise’s face.

“What do you want to learn first?”

The next few weeks are a bit of a whirlwind for Dan. Between classes, hanging out with new friends, homework, scrambling to find a job, remembering to text his mum and let her know he hasn’t died, he’s barely able to keep his head on straight. But the time he spends trying to introduce Phil to the “real world” is some of his favorite.

Phil had set some ground rules-nothing that could kill him or ruin his life if it got out on social media. If he got too uncomfortable, he was allowed to tap out, but he’d give it an honest attempt. And nothing Satanic. (Dan had laughed until he realized by the look on his face that he wasn’t joking).

Granted, their friend group hadn’t done a great job at the start. PJ thought it would be hilarious to let Phil start with some “iconic reading material”.

Dan had been in class when they had presented the book to him, and the two were in their respective beds when Dan heard a shocked gasp from Phil’s side of the room.

“You good, mate?” He rolled over, watching as Phil sat upright and started flipping through the pages. “Do-Do you know about this book?” He asked, face turning impossibly redder as he held up the cover for Dan. 50 Shades of Gray. As Dan burst out laughing, his roommate whined playfully.

“What-Phil, who gave this to you?” “PJ said it was necessary reading!”

“PJ is a dunce. Give it here, I’ll protect you from the big bad book.” Dan teases, but Phil quickly shoves the book into his hands like it’s on fire.

“I’m gonna have nightmares about ties and rich men for weeks.” He grumbled playfully, curling up on his bed and reaching for his phone. “I’m never trusting Peej again.”

Louise turns full maternal the next day when he struggles to recount the experience in polite language (Dan holding back laughter), and she decides to go the complete opposite way, launching a mission to, as she put it, “reshape Phil’s lost childhood”. Phil lightly pushes back against wording, because he feels like he had quite a nice childhood, thank you very much.

Still, Louise comes over a couple of nights later, armed with her laptop.

“They couldn’t come up with a more creative name than “High School Musical”?” Phil teased gently as she pulled it up on her screen.

“Phil, you sweet boy, High School Musical is a cultural milestone that you need experience. So no backtalk!”

“Whatever you say.” He said, sitting on the other side of her and holding a bowl of popcorn in his lap.

They watch the first movie, and then the second, and then Phil’s begging to watch the third. As the final song plays Dan glances over and sees that Phil has his head ducked down, shoulders shaking gently.

“Phil?” Louise asks gently right as a choked sob erupts from him. She lets out a yelp as Phil flings his arms around her neck, laughing shakily. “It was just...Troy chose basketball and music…both of his passions...” He blubbers out, nuzzling into her shoulder as she coos. “You’re so weird, hon. You know that?” Once he’s calmed down enough (when Dan offers him a hug the waterworks start up all over again, sniffling. “So. Is that what your guys’ school was like?”

Louise and Dan glance at each other before bursting into laughter, only stopping a couple of minutes later when Louise turns to Phil once more. “If you liked High School Musical, you’re going to love this show Victorious…”

Of course, it’s not all smutty books and (incredible) movie trilogies.

Being homeschooled meant that all Phil knows is doing school when he feels like it. Lucky for Phil, he’s a huge nerd, so homework and studying actually excite him. The problem is, these things tend to excite him at 3 in the morning, and he actually has classes to go to now outside of his room.

By day three of no sleep, Phil swears Dan’s grown wings, and Dan intervenes. They make up a rules sheet-bedtime is 2AM, wake up at 10AM, eat three meals a day, no more than five cups of coffee a day (of all the vices Phil was deprived of, caffeine was clearly not one of them-Dan’s never seen anyone drink more coffee in his life). He gets him down to one all-nighter a week, and in turn, Phil wakes him up each morning and helps him with schoolwork so Dan doesn’t have to face going to the tutoring center. It turns out that Phil’s kind of a genius, despite never being in a classroom until a couple of weeks prior.

Chris is the one who convinces Phil to get social media, telling him that “only serial killers and old people” don’t. Phil’s not the greatest at it at first (there’s a lot of pictures uploaded on accident to his Instagram stories and nonsense tweets), but he slowly gets more used to it, getting his terrible puns and weird things he sees on campus out to the world (all 20 of his followers).

Dan can’t help but get slightly annoyed when Phil’s phone is shoved in his face to choose a filter of some stupid looking goose that’s close to attacking him, but the look of pure elation that Phil gets when someone sends a dog meme in their group chat is enough to warm his heart in ways he didn’t want to address fully but knew he couldn’t ignore.

There’s so much to teach him, and it seems like each day something pops up. Still, Dan’s surprised by Phil’s world, too.

First, he brings them to a non-denominational bible study group. PJ groaned quietly as Phil handed them all cheap paperback Bibles before they entered the church.

“Can’t we do something a bit more...fun? With less reading?”

“If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again,” Phil said with a grin, rocking back and forth on his heels. “And if you like it-which hopefully, you will-we can come back once a week, and I’ll get you some nicer Bibles. These are just to start out with.”

Louise forces a small “yay” as they head inside, Phil leading them through the sanctuary with a happy sigh before taking them down some stairs, where a young woman sits in front of a small arrangement of chairs. “Phil, you brought your friends!” The woman cheers and Phil laughs happily. “Caroline-this is Dan, PJ, Chris, and Lou. They’re new to all this, so we’ll go easy this week?” He joked lightly, and Caroline nods, asking them about their religious beliefs.

“Uh, went to church a few times with my Nan. Atheist.” Dan says, biting his lip. He never actually said the “a'' word around Phil, and he’s a bit nervous that he’s going to suddenly flip out, but he still seems just as excited as when he walked in.

“Atheist. Never been-parents hate churches. Can I still grab snacks?” Chris adds and Caroline laughs, nodding.

“I’m a little complicated, but it’s basically just hippie church.” PJ says, shrugging. “Singing and chanting and all.”

“I go about once a month-I’m Episcopal, officially, but I’ve been to other churches too.” Louise gently smiled, and with that, the group got started. They went around and talked about their weeks, a few upcoming events, a prayer, and then Caroline instructed them to get their books. Phil pulled a well-worn leather Bible out of his bag, and Dan’s eyes widened a bit when he opened it. There are post-it notes everywhere, with entire passages highlighted and notes covering practically every margin in Phil’s stupidly perfect handwriting. It’s clear that Phil’s spent a lot of time with the book.

“Since we have guests, I figured we’d take a break from our reading of Matthew and focus on a couple of specific verses today,” Caroline says brightly. “James 1:13-15: “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempteth he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.”

There’s a slight pause and Chris furrows his eyebrows. “Huh?” “In simple terms-don’t say God isn’t the one to tempt you, because when you stray off His path, that’s on you.” One of the group members explains. “And if you do sin, it’ll lead to, uh, death.”

“Well, does God not tempt us to do bad things by putting so much pressure on us to be perfect?” A girl with blue hair jumps in, raising an eyebrow. “He sets the standard so high. Sometimes I’m just like, ‘Chill, dude. I can’t do everything. I’m not you.’ “

PJ snorts at that, giggling. “You call God dude?” They’re all laughing now, but Dan can’t believe it-he wants to jump in.

“Can I ask a dumb question?” His voice is a bit quiet but inquisitive. “Isn’t God supposed to be loving and forgiving? Why does He want you guys to be perfect? That sounds kind of...harsh.”

“Well, He knows we’re not perfect.” Phil says, and another guy nods.

“He asks for us to be because it strives us to be better. And it teaches us that messing up is okay.” The conversation keeps up for a bit before Caroline interrupts, asking them to focus on the latter half of the passage.

PJ narrows his eyes at the text before looking up. “Am I really gonna die if I sin?” “Well, sin was what led us away from eternal life in the first place-Adam and Eve kinda messed that up for us.”

“Yeah, but our personal sins can lead us to death, too. Not just old sins. That’s what God’s warning us about here.”

“Not every sin does, though. Like mixed-fabric shirts.” Louise grinned a little. “Or grabbing dudes by their nads during fights.” PJ’s eyes widened and he turned to Phil. “Are those actual rules?!” “It was a different time!” Phil giggled as he watched him flip through the pages quickly.

“Where does it say we can’t grab nads?’ “Can we stop saying nads in church?” Phil pointed out, still laughing despite his red face.

Caroline tuts and wags a finger playfully. “Uh-uh, Philip. No judgment. They can talk about nads all they want, now.”

The entire room is laughing again as Phil buries his face in his hands. Finally, when he controls his giggles, Caroline speaks again. “Do you think talking about that kind of stuff in church is a sin, Phil?”

It’s teasing at first, but Phil actually thinks about it for a moment.

“Well...my household was pretty strict growing up. I mean, I got yelled at once for just sneezing during church.” He admits slowly and Dan’s eyebrows furrow a little. He can’t imagine either of Phil’s parents yelling at him, or anyone, really. “But I get why it was. They wanted me to love God, and respect Him, just like they loved and respected me and I loved and respected them. So I think if you do things with love, genuine love, it’s not a sin. But if you do things out of hate, or anger, or with the intention of hurting, that’s a sin. And that’s not automatically bad-like T’andra said, we’re all gonna make mistakes. Just keep on acting with love, and I think you’re good.” There’s a pause, and Dan’s face flushes slightly. Not just at how much Phil was saying “love”, but the words he spoke, and the true thought and passion behind them.

The moment is cut short when PJ snorts. “So if I love nads, I can talk about them to Jesus?”

By the time the room is back under control, the group is over. “Y’know, that was actually pretty fun.” Chris said after they had all grabbed snacks and talked to everyone.

“It was! It was like...philosophical debate.” Dan said. “The real nitty-gritty. The topics of good, evil, life, death, corruption-” Louise shoved him gently. “So deep, Dan. Of course you enjoyed it.” She joked lightly before adding “No offense, Phil!” Phil doesn’t seem to care-he’s grinning so wide it must be hurting his cheeks, and Dan would be lying if he isn’t tempted to start reading the whole Bible from cover to cover just to see him grin like that again.

Phil also manages to bring them to actual church services a couple of times (though getting college students out of bed before noon on a weekend proves to be a practically impossible task).

Dan has to admit he’s not as impressed with this as he is with the study group. The group is fun-they can all talk, and laugh, and actually discuss the points. Church is...not. They sit on hard pews. They listen. They stand and sit and kneel and stand and sit and kneel. They sing a few songs, and while Phil’s quiet baritone makes Dan’s sore knees quiver, it’s not enough to really warrant him waking up at 8AM on a weekend.

Phil is politely understanding of this, though it’s clear that this is of certain importance to him that his friends might not ever understand. It’s admirable if nothing else.

Other than storytelling from his childhood (which does little to make him seem more normal, honestly) and the weekly study, though, Phil doesn’t talk too much about the church to his other friends. Dan, however, is different. Maybe it’s just the fact that they live together and their space is more shared, but Phil opens up to Dan a bit more about it. He reads passages and verses to Dan, he prays in front of him, and he answers his questions in a non-condescending way. Dan has to admit that while he likes what Phil says, he can’t find himself connecting to it in the way Phil has, with his entire heart and soul. But Dan can admire the stories and the way his friend sees the world, and this new world that he’s entering with him.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes that he’s seeing the world in two ways-Dan’s universe, and Phil’s universe. They’re so different, but (and he’s sure he’d never admit this out loud) Dan prefers when their universes collide.

When Dan comes home after a long day of classes and working at the campus bookstore, he’s exhausted. The soft music fades through the room as he opens the door to find Phil chewing on a pen, looking just as anxious as him. “I think my brain is leaking out my ears,” Phil said wearily, looking over the top of his glasses at Dan. “Do I have brain on my desk?” Dan snorts and rolls his eyes, reaching over and grabbing his textbook. “We need a break. And you need sleep-I know you took that second all-nighter last night, rule-breaker.” “Fine. Watch something with me?” He says after a moment, grabbing his laptop. They load up an episode of Zoey101 (they’d finished Victorious the week before) and hit play.

As the bars from the theme song fade out, Dan suddenly feels a strange pressure on his shoulder. He glances over and finds Phil with his cheek pressed to Dan’s shoulder, glasses sliding down his nose as he lets out a soft snore. Dan pauses the show, and for a brief moment, it’s just the two of them. Dan and Phil.

He lives for those moments: Getting coffee after a class. Sending each other memes. Trying new food at the dining hall. Brief greetings in the halls. Shared looks as they hang out with their friend group.

It’s been a month of them being friends when Dan realizes he's never fallen quite this hard before. He doesn’t just want to make out, all hot and heavy, or go further than just that. He just wants this-Dan and Phil-forever, even just as friends. He didn’t expect to find that in this pale, bible-banging weirdo, but now that he does he never wants to let him go.

Dan’s getting that feeling now more and more, the Dan and Phil feeling when they’re in the study group a few weeks later. They’re both sat towards the back, trying (and failing) to hold back laughter as they’re hunched over Dan’s Bible.

“I have compared thee, O my love, to a company of horses in Pharaoh's chariots. Thy cheeks are comely with rows of jewels, thy neck with chains of gold. We will make thee borders of gold with studs of silver…” Phil says under his breath in a low, gravelly tone.

Dan turns to the next page. “O my dove, that art in the clefts of the rock, in the secret places of the stairs, let me see thy countenance, let me hear thy voice; for sweet is thy voice, and thy countenance is comely. Take us the foxes, the little foxes, that spoil the vines: for our vines have tender grapes!” He whispers, still trying to make his voice sound high-pitched.

“Behold, thou art fair, my love; behold, thou art fair; thou hast doves' eyes within thy locks: thy hair is as a flock of goats, that appear from mount Gilead. Thy teeth are like a flock of sheep that are even shorn, which came up from-”

“Dan, Phil, I’m guessing you both are whispering about how excited you are about our retreat at Camp Brabeck?”

The two both fall silent, Dan quickly glancing between Phil and Caroline, her smile wearing a bit thin from having to call them out. Phil’s eyes are wide, suddenly all signs of laughter gone. “Camp Brabeck?” He squeaks out, and the leader nods.

“On our upcoming four-day weekend. It’s up North, so it’ll be a bit of a drive, but we’ve already got the vans rented out and everything.” She says before noticing Phil’s sudden change in demeanor. “Phil, you’re from around there, actually. Have you been before?”

Phil blinks a few times before nodding, curling up into his seat a little. “O-Oh. Well, I actually did, once, but-”

“Great! So you’ll be down to come, right? We’ve got more space in the van, and it’ll be fun…” Caroline says hopefully, not letting him argue as he starts shaking his head. “Plus, if you’ve already been there, you can tell us all about it! C’mon, this is right up your alley. I think you’ll-” “I’ll go if Dan does.” Phil blurts out suddenly, looking nervously over at. Dan’s definitely confused now-Phil loves the outdoors. He loves this group. He loves-well, to be fair, Phil seems to love most things. He’s racking his brain trying to figure out what it could be, but he just can’t, and now all eyes are on him, and-

“I mean...as long as someone brings bug spray.” Dan says slowly, Caroline beaming and writing on her clipboard before talking excitedly about the campground. The two stay quiet, Dan focusing on Phil’s eyes trained on her and hands gripping his Bible so tightly that his knuckles turn white.

The minute the group ends Phil makes a beeline to the door, walking so fast that Dan can’t catch up without actually chasing him. Dan’s phone dings a short moment later:

Sorry 2 run! Had 2 catch up w some1 4 a thing. Thx 4 signing up w me ^_^ - Phil!

Dan furrows his eyebrows, and not for the normal reason of Phil’s stupid abbreviations and the fact he insists upon signing all his texts. He’s trying to piece the pieces together from the few characters on his screen when Louise puts a hand on his shoulder. “So what was all that about?” She asks with a raised eyebrow, giggling a bit as she gives his arm a light squeeze. “What did you show him that spooked him so bad?” Before Dan can speak, Chris is at his side.

“He’s just embarrassed that Dan was flirting with him during the Jesus Power Hour.” “Dan, were you?” Louise gasped teasingly, and Dan sputters a bit, sliding his phone into his jacket pocket. “Chris-what?! No, no, I wasn’t flirting. I wasn’t! He just-when she mentioned the retreat-and the camp-” Dan’s face is bright red now, suddenly the words from Solomon seem a lot less goofy and a lot more...romantic, to outsiders, with their heads bowed together with dumb grins on their faces.

Louise and Chris shoot Dan equally doubtful looks. “Dan-” She starts, but Dan grits his teeth.

“We’re not-neither of us are like that.” He snaps. As she steps back and Chris raises an eyebrow, guilt starts to pool in his stomach, but he can’t stop. “For one, I’m not gay, and two, Phil is gonna be a priest, remember? Aren’t they, like, sworn to celibacy?”

Chris and Louise glance at each other. “Mate...chill, yeah? We were just joking. We know you’re not...y’know.” “Good.” Dan said before turning and stomping up the steps, the unnerving sense that the painting of Jesus had his eyes following him the whole way.

A few minutes later, Dan is sitting in the back garden of the church that Phil helps tend to after services, the wind whipping through his hair. Usually, he’d be walking to a Starbucks with Phil, discussing that session’s theme in-depth and watching Phil’s face turn pink as Dan releases the string of expletives he’s been holding in for an entire hour. The expletives are running through his head at top speed, as he spends about three minutes crafting the perfect text message.

hey, i’m sorry if i weirded you out today! didn’t mean to haha. i was goofing off way too much and i know you take these meetings p seriously. i’ll take it more seriously next time and not distract you

Dan hits send after rereading it about a million times, groaning audibly as he does. It’s not exactly a “Sorry I have a crush on you and made you seem gay but I get you’ll never like me and that’s fine I just wanna spend all my time with you”, but it’s the best he can do.

No worries! OMGosh I was just embarrassed 2 b called out like that hahaha! 0_o <= Literally my face. I was def the 1 who was whispering 2 loud. Lol! -Phil!

dude, it was totally on me. Dan texts back, chewing on his bottom lip. Phil had looked pretty freaked out, but if he was fine, maybe they could just...move past it? really, i started it.

Noooooooo! I take all the blame. I had some cookies b4 group and I was on major sugar rush. Btw...I had some of those cookies ur nan sent! Sorry, I’ll buy some snacks 4 us. Ask her to send more, tho? So good <3 Thank u! Take dancing men as an apology (/-_-)/ |(-_-|) -Phil!

okay, seriously, who taught you to text like this? my head hurts trying to decipher everything

DANCING MEN 4 U (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) ~(*-*)~ (/-_-)/ |(-_-\) -Phil!

you’re ridiculous. Dan can’t help but laugh, in spite of the churning feeling in his stomach. He drops his phone onto the grass next to him and looks up at the sky.

“If you know Phil so well, big guy, what do I do?” He asks before he can stop himself, before pausing. Half of him expects a thunderstorm to start, and him to get struck by lightning, or a rainbow to leap across the sky and the clouds to part to show Phil’s shining face as the sun. But after a few long moments of silence, Dan realizes he’s not going to get any divine intervention and groans.

“Well...let me know when you figure it out.”

The next couple of weeks go by quickly. Everything seems normal-they go to classes, they go to work, they go to group, they goof off. The four-day weekend creeps upon them, but before they know it the whole group is up at 6AM standing in front of a huge white van.

“This isn’t cult-ish at all.” PJ yawns, chucking his duffle bag into the trunk. Louise sips her coffee and squints over at Phil.

“This has to be a sin, you know. Not giving a girl her beauty sleep.” Usually, Phil would spout something about “being beautiful in His eyes”, but right now he’s getting the same sense of panic in his eyes that he had when the camp was first mentioned, laughing weakly as he adjusts his glasses. Dan is just awake enough to get the sense that Phil has been repressing the idea of the trip until this exact moment, but he also knows just how to fix it. He had been stockpiling on Phil knowledge for this exact moment.

Phil jumps a bit as Dan nudges him. “Relax. Listen, I know what’s up.” He says quietly, watching as his friend’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks.

“What?!” Phil yelps a bit as Dan gently leads him away from the rest of the group. “I mean...what do you know? What’s up?” He asks quietly, fiddling with the strap of his messenger bag.

Dan holds back a fond noise as he smiles gently, shaking his head. “No need to be embarrassed, Phil. My mom went through the same thing for years.” As Phil looks more and more concerned, wringing his hands, Dan digs in his own backpack for a moment before pulling out a small box of Dramamine and handing it to him. “So you don’t upchuck all over us.”

There’s a beat as Phil stares down at the box, eyes wide, and Dan almost thinks he’s got it wrong. Does Phil not get carsick? Was he insulted? Was he really that embarrassed by it?

Phil finally starts to giggle, but it seems more relieved than anything. He nudges Dan lightly and opens his mouth to speak.

“Ah, Dan and Phil! The dynamic duo. You two can sit in the back with the bags!” Caroline’s voice cuts through whatever Phil’s about to say, and he turns to Dan with a small shrug.

“Looks like it’ll just be you I puke on.” He says, a slight grin on his face as he pulls the door open for Dan, who rolls his eyes but steps in “Gotta get you a poncho for the splash zone.” Dan gags playfully before squeezing in to sit next to Phil amongst all the bags, rolling his eyes and plugging his earbuds in before holding out one bud to Phil and turning on their shared playlist-a mix of indie, Christian rock, (mostly clean) emo jams, and Disney Channel top hits. It’s not the most welcoming thing to listen to at 6AM, but if it keeps Phil calm and Dan from actually needing a poncho, he’ll welcome it.

The majority of the drive is spent in and out of sleep for Dan, guitar chords and vocals bouncing around his sleep-deprived brain. He’s not fully conscious until around noon when they’re about an hour away from the camp. The roads are getting twisty, and it’s then that he notices that Phil has his eyes screwed shut and face scrunched up, both hands shoved into his messenger bag. It only takes a slight peek for Dan to see his fingers curled tightly around his well-worn Bible, and he bites his lip.

Phil talks about leaps of faith a lot in group. Dan doesn’t quite get it, but he’s pretty sure he’s taking one when he slides his hand into the other’s bag and gently coaxes Phil’s hand into his own. The young man stiffens up for a moment before turning to stare at Dan with wide eyes.

“Shush. It’ll help nausea.” Dan mumbles, his own face red and praying that Phil won’t ask how exactly it will. There’s a pause before Phil smiles weakly, turning his face away, and Dan is about five seconds away from opening the van door and hurtling himself onto the road.

Phil’s probably just been playing nice, and now Dan’s gone and made it uncomfortable for the both of them, and Phil can’t even look at him. Dan’s whole body turns hot, but right before he can pull away, he feels Phil’s slender fingers intertwine with his own.

It’s not the first time they’ve held hands-they do it at the start and end of study groups, and at church, and that one time Phil got them all to hold hands while standing on a hill to reenact the ending of High School Musical 2 for his Instagram. Dan was a bit flustered then, too. But this is different. It’s...intimate. Phil’s never held his hand with such need before, fingers locked with his and palm quivering gently as he mouths a silent “thank you.” Dan feels his entire body buzz, and he can’t help but close his eyes and try to focus on the music and not the fact that he feels like he’s literally twelve years old.

The rest of the ride somehow takes an eternity and only a minute before the van stops, Chris bemoaning his hunger loudly and the rest chattering excitedly. Phil finally opens his eyes and turns to Dan, slowly pulling his hand away.

They both look at their hands, and then back at each other. There’s a long pause before he opens his mouth, and Dan’s heart starts pounding so hard he’s surprised Phil can’t hear it.

All that Dan has thought about them staying platonic goes out the window. Dan wants nothing more than to lunge forward and shove his lips against Phil’s, to run his hands through his hair, to climb into his lap and- “I didn’t puke!” Phil blurts out loudly, loud enough that everyone hears. The group falls silent before one of the other young men, Raz, gives Phil a thumbs up. “Good for you, bud. C’mon, let’s get these bags up to the cabin, and then we can get some food to celebrate.” Phil laughs a bit too hard at that, face bright red. As he clamors out of the van he leaves Dan in the backseat, trying to climb over the mountain of bags as he watches his friend chatter away as if nothing happened. He watches for a moment before shaking his head quickly, trying to erase the memory from his mind. He was just making things more complicated than they needed to be. They didn’t share a moment. No way.

Dan hauls his bag over his shoulder and walks along with PJ and Lou, struggling to stop the loop of those ten seconds from playing in his head.

Dan liked that the Bible study group wasn’t too Jesus-y. It was more philosophical than anything. Even church was just an hour a week on the weeks he went, which was really only once a month when Phil promised brunch afterward.

This weekend, he and his friends had realized, seemed to be where the group could get enough Jesus to last them until the next retreat. It started with grace before lunch-simple enough. But then a pastor had started to preach to them during lunch. And then after lunch. And then afternoon Bible study-for two hours, with a lot more reading and praying than actual discussion. Pj, Chris, and Louise were clearly trying not to fall asleep, while Phil sat off a bit, eyes trained on either the priest or his Bible, hugging himself tightly as he stayed completely silent.

“It’s just so boring!” Louise groaned once they were all finally outside and out of earshot. “I’m sorry, I know this is what you want to do with the rest of your life, Phil, but we’re in nature! Why are we just stuck in some stuffy room listening to an old dude read for hours when we can see the cool stuff God apparently built for us?” “God wants me to climb some of those rocks over there.” PJ agreed, snapping a few pictures on his phone. “He tried to call me earlier to tell me so, but reception sucks here.”

Phil laughed a bit, but it’s definitely more hollow than his normal giggles. “I’m sorry, I-I really thought-”

“Wait. Haven’t you been here before?” Louise asked as PJ started jogging over to the huge rocks, Chris following shortly after. Phil paused before rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I mean, yeah, but-”

They’re both cut off by someone calling Phil’s name, and he whirls around to see the priest-the same “old dude” Louise had just been insulting-walk over and clap a hand on Phil’s shoulder. “Philip, you must have grown a full foot since I last saw you!” Dan glances over at Phil with a slightly surprised look. He knew Phil had been here before, sure. But to know this man? Someone who seemed so different from Phil in so many ways?

“O-Oh, Father Richard. Hey. Guys, Father Richard worked at the camp I came to a-a couple of years ago.” “And Philip was one of the finest boys there, wasn’t he?” If the man notices Phil shift from one foot to the other nervously, he sure doesn’t show it. “I mean, they were all wonderful young men, don’t get me wrong. But Philip-you’re truly going to be a man of the cloth. Don’t you both think?” Dan is watching Father Richard’s face closely, immediately feeling himself wanting to leave the conversation as soon as possible. If it wasn’t for Phil, he’d have made an excuse and walked off by now. It seems like Louise isn’t thrilled, either, but she smiles and nods a bit. “It’s clearly his passion, uh, Father Richard.”

“Oh, absolutely. As long as he keeps his head out of the clouds.” He throws his head back and laughs, Phil’s grin looking more like a grimace as he chuckles along. “I swear, this boy would lose his head if it wasn’t attached to him!” “I think Phil’s pretty smart, actually.” Dan says suddenly, a good bit of bite to his tone. He’s not sure why, but something about this guy gives him the creeps. He stares him in the eyes as he gets a surprised look from both him and Phil.

After a moment, he clears his throat. “Well...I suppose he’s matured a lot over the past two years. Good to see you again, boy. We’ll have to catch up.” With that he heads off, giving Dan a slightly curious look as he does so, and Phil watches him go before shaking his head.

“Jeez. Phil Lester Fan Club over here.” Louise teased gently before frowning. “What’s his deal?” Phil bit his lip and sighed. “That’s how he is.” He explained quietly, yelping as Louise pulled him into a tight hug.

“Philly…” She cooed before moving to sit on the grass with him, motioning for Dan to do the same. “Talk to us? You’re not usually closed off like this. We know something’s up.” Phil squirms, and Dan can tell he’s debating whether or not to lie. He’s seen it before-when Chris asked if he looked good in his new neon t-shirt, or when some girl asked him once if she was being too annoying after complaining about her roommate to them for five minutes straight. “I just...I came to this camp when I was younger and had different ideas than I do now.” He explains finally.

“Like how interesting that Richard guy was?” Dan tries to joke, instantly regretting it as Phil brings his knees to his chest and curls up into himself.

His voice gets quiet, as it does sometimes when things get serious in group meetings and he’s comforting someone with a verse or trying to explain a tough concept to Dan.

“Like...I was raised to think God ruled with a vengeance. If you sinned in any way, He would punish you. That’s what my parents said. We were supposed to fear Him, y’know? And when I came here...Father Richard pushed that hard.” Phil explained gently. “But I don’t think God’s like that. I think we’re all sinners-we all make mistakes. James 3:2 and all that. God loves us in spite of our flaws. Hearing him talk about God like he was so cruel, and then reading about His love for us...it was the first time it didn’t add up for me.”

Dan’s eyes widened. In all his time of knowing Phil-two months doesn’t sound like much, but it feels like a lifetime ago-he’s never once heard him speak against his parent’s beliefs. Sure, he could admit that they were a bit extreme at times, but it was always quickly followed with how their intentions were good and that everything had been great.

“And as someone who wants to be a priest, I don’t think the way to get people to turn to God is to scream at them until they repent and scare them into not sinning. I think you need to be like Jesus. Hate the sin, love the sinner.” He continued, forcing a tiny smile as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Because we’re all His children, after all. And He’s got a path for all of us-fear won’t guide us onto that.”

There’s a moment of silence before Louise reaches down, giving his hair an affectionate tousle. “You start preaching like that and I’ll come to your church every Sunday. I’ll even sing in the choir.” She joked. A slow beam spread across Phil’s face-a a genuine one, and he stood up before pulling her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.” He whispered. “Thank you both. I-If I had known he would’ve been here, I’d have at least warned you-”

“Shush, mate. You had no idea. Trust me, you’re way too much of a softie to lie to us, we know that.” Dan laughed a bit, giving Phil’s back a light pat. Phil giggled a bit before pulling away, taking a deep breath.

“Wanna go make sure Chris and Peej don’t crack their heads open?” He said finally, and before they could say anything the two of them were taking off towards the rocks, Dan chasing after both of them. Despite his grin, he still couldn’t help but feel like his head was heavy with questions. Father Richard had seemed boring, and a bit grumpy, but not angry. Were Phil’s changing beliefs really all that had happened?

Phil had seemed relieved to talk for a bit, but the mood shifted again once evening activities started. Father Richard had preached again during dinner-and again, nothing terrible happened. He made a few dry jokes, he talked about having “complete and total faith”, he read some long passages that Dan didn’t care about. He was too busy glancing over at Phil next to him, who had left his food practically untouched.

Then there are evening vespers, with Phil’s hands clenched together so tightly in prayer that his knuckles turn white and his fingernails dig into the skin. The firepit seems to be going well-he shares a s’more with Dan, but before he could get another he’s pulled aside by Father Richard. Dan’s sure at one point the two glance over at Dan, but then Phil’s walking back over, trying to look interested in some story one of the group members is telling as he brings his knees to his chest. Even Chris and PJ seem to notice that something’s going on, but with a pointed look from Dan, they give him some space.

They turn in for the night, but Dan wakes up way too early to find Phil curled up on his bunk pouring over his Bible. The bags under his eyes tell Dan that he didn’t sleep a wink last night, and he sighs. “C’mon, you gotta show me where the showerhouse is.” He says gently, and Phil looks up at him with a tired laugh. “Do I?” He teased weakly. After a minute though, he sits up and stretches. “Mmm...fine. But no chickening out.” With that he hops down from the bunk, peeling off his shirt before walking over to his bag.

Dan’s pretty sure he gulps audibly as Phil grabs a change of clothes and a towel, eyes wandering over him. Though Phil braved the communal showers at Uni, he was always sure to change in the stall-Dan had never seen him in so much as a pair of shorts that went higher than his knees. And yet, here he was. Dan would feel guilty about watching him, especially considering he knew Phil was having a tough time, but…

He couldn’t help it. His best friend looked hot as hell from behind. He couldn’t help but admire his slim frame, his lean but toned arms, and when he turned around, the slight smattering of chest hair that slowly turned into a happy trail that crept lower, into-

“I’m telling you now, if you forget a towel you’ll regret it.” He said, voice still low from sleep, and Dan snapped his head up. “Towel! Right! Let me go grab that.” He squeaked and quickly moved to grab it, trying to hide his flushed cheeks as he snagged a change of clothes as well. By the time he looked up Phil was already heading for the door, humming under his breath, and Dan followed him quickly.

After a few moments of silence, Phil spoke. “Father Richard is leaving tonight, so you won’t have to sit through his lectures after today. He’s just stopping by to talk to us. So we’ll have less worship-y stuff and more free time tomorrow.” Phil glanced over at Dan. “Sorry if I’m weird about it. I just..y’know.”

Dan nodded and relaxed into the shared feeling of relief, even if he didn’t exactly know what Phil was talking about. Before he could ask, though, they were at the small building-just a row of four stalls that looked like bathroom stalls, built out of wood. As Dan stepped inside and stripped-definitely not thinking about how Phil was doing the same just inches away, especially as he heard his sweatpants hit the ground-he rubbed his eyes. “Is there coffee here?”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t need coffee here.” Phil laughed a bit, a genuine one, and Dan raised an eyebrow, glancing over at where his head peeked over the stall.

“Dude, I’ve seen you-sweet fuck!” Dan shrieked as he turned the single knob on and freezing cold water shot out of a showerhead on the ceiling. “How the fuck do you get the hot water?!”

Phil was really laughing now, his witch cackle carrying over Dan’s screams. “No hot water at camp.” He sang playfully. “And no swearing, either, but-”

“Christ on a bike, no wonder you were fucking miserable here!” The words come out before he can realize it, and suddenly he freezes (as well as he can while shivering like mad), but Phil only laughs harder.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that?” Dan can hear the grin in his voice, and he lets out a long breath. “Whatever. Shitting fucking fuck! Let’s get this over with.”

Dan somehow manages to survive the worst shower of his life, his hair curling as he towels himself off before tugging on clothes and leaving the showerhouse. If it wasn’t for the bright smile on Phil’s face, he’d say it wasn’t worth it. But at least for right now, Phil is his old, giggly self again, and Dan comes to the realization he’d do just about anything to keep him like that.

Unfortunately for Dan, it doesn’t last long. As they’re walking back to the cabin, Phil glances across the way and sees Father Richard, walking through the trees. “Oh, shoot, c’mon-” Phil grabs Dan’s arm and tugs him along a bit faster, not looking behind him for nearly a full minute. As he glances over and sees the look on Dan’s face he finally stops, sighing softly. The joy from before is gone. “Sorry. I just...too early to try to handle that right now.” “Yeah, yeah, of course. Let’s just get going to the cabin, yeah? I’m still freezing.” Dan jokes weakly, and Phil tries to crack a smile, still looking uncomfortable as they walk along the trail in silence.

The rest of the day is disturbingly similar to yesterday, and the whole group is sensing that Phil is just...off. He’s usually eager to jump into discussions, but even when Father Richard gives them the chance to talk, Phil seems totally holed up in himself, mumbling something about wanting to give others a time to speak (which pushes the topic along to Louise, who fumbles it totally and is earned a condescending smile from Father Richard).

By lunch, Dan thinks he can’t sit through another hour of this. By mid-afternoon, he’s considering faking being possessed by Satan. And by dinner, he’s come up with about forty ways to fake the possession. The only reason keeping him from doing so is that when he mutters it to PJ he tells him to wait until after dinner-if he keeps Chris from food, he’ll have bigger things to worry about than a camp full of religious fanatics thinking he’s possessed.

They set the tables and then get in line to eat dinner. Dan immediately realizes Phil isn’t anywhere to be found, exchanging concerned looks with Louise. When they get five minutes into dinner and realize that Father Richard is also missing, he starts to worry.

What if Father Richard was...well, what would he do?

The truth is, Dan doesn’t know what the big deal is with this guy. He honestly doesn’t seem to be too bad, but the control he has over Phil’s emotions is genuinely weird. Still, he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

“Hey, Caroline!” He says, quickly jogging over to the young woman, and she gives Dan a kind smile. “Dan, hey! How have you been enjoying this so far?” She asked gently, resting a hand on his arm. “I know it can be intense, considering your, um...well, you weren’t exactly in the church before you joined us, and-”

“Caroline, it’s all great, but do you know where Phil is?”

She smiles and gives Dan’s arm a squeeze. “I’m so glad you two found each other, you know that? You guys are like-”

“Caroline.”

“Okay, okay. I won’t be mushy, even if you guys are my favorite freshmen.” She winked before waving her hand towards the door. “He’s out by the lake with Father Rich. They go way back, did you know?”

Dan nods slowly. It’s clearly not the answer he wanted, because Caroline leans in. “Don’t tell him I said this, but trust me, Phil’s not choosing Father Richard over you. You’re still his BFF.”

Wonderful. That’s the reassurance he needed right now, that Phil wasn’t going to choose a 65-year-old man to be his ‘BFF”. He manages to smile and thank Caroline before going to wait on the mess hall deck. If Richard was going to drag Phil away, then dammit, he was going to be the first to talk to him when he got back.

Phil doesn’t come back up to the mess hall for at least another hour. His eyes are rimmed red, and he’s alone. The second Dan hears his footsteps he shoots up. “Phil!” He shouts after he yanks his earbuds out, and Phil lets out a yelp, laughing shakily. “Oh my God, did he-did he make you cry?!”

Phil rubs his eyes quickly and giggles weakly. “Dan, I cry at everything. We cried together over that muffin in the dining hall on Wednesday, remember?”

Dan doesn’t look convinced in the slightest, but suddenly Phil’s arms are pulling him into a long hug. “We just had a long talk. Don’t tell me I missed anything?”

“They went on some dumb night hike, but-don’t tell me you wanted to go on the night hike?” He asked as he saw the disappointment on Phil’s face, frowning. “We can go! We can go right now, and meet them, and-” “Dan. Breathe, okay?” He giggled and led Dan inside. “Our group can go on our own little night hike tomorrow, I’ll survive. Besides. I haven’t gotten to spend time with you these past couple of days, and I’ve missed you.” Phil’s voice is a bit softer, and he gives him a shy smile.

Dan’s face turns red and he sits down in one of the faded couches, Phil flopping next to him. “It’s only been, like, a day and a half.” He mumbles.

“It’s been a long day and a half.” Dan nods slowly, looking up at Phil. “Is he gone?” “Yep. Just left camp now. Didn’t wanna make a fuss.” Dan can’t help but roll his eyes a bit at that, shaking his head. “Now, c’mon. Can we talk about something fun? Like…” He reaches out and snatches up an old copy of Women’s Health from a bin by the fireplace, clearly meant for kindling. “What advice can we find for two lovely women like ourselves?”

As he flutters his eyelashes at him, Dan can’t help but laugh, grabbing the magazine from him. The two swap it back and forth, giggling like children at the stupid advice and making fun of all the pictures. The tension from before melts away, and suddenly it’s just Dan and Phil, the two of them being absolute idiots and laughing over nothing. After the last day and a half, it feels amazing to just laugh.

When they finish that one they go to the next one in the bin. They read through issues of Runner’s World, Golf Digest, Christian Living, Better Homes and Gardens, and even a Highlights before Phil’s stomach lets out a loud growl.

“Oooh, I need some food. Why don’t I go grab us some snacks from the kitchen? There’s some board games in one of the closets, find something for us to play?”

With that, he’s up and going into the kitchen, and Dan wanders over to one of the closet doors. Sure enough, he sees some old board game boxes peeking out behind some moving boxes. Dan goes to move one out of the way when he catches a peek of the pile of brochures inside. His eyes run over the text and clip-art outline of a strong-looking man. Program Judges 6:12 at Camp Brabeck: For teen boys and young men struggling with sexual impurity.

Sexual impurity? Dan grabs the brochure and flips it open.

Today, our young men are raised in a culture where abnormal lifestyles are being accepted, even praised and celebrated. It’s no wonder that more youth than ever before are turning out oversexualized and confused, and more than ever are struggling with same-sex desires...

From there on, the words start to blur together for Dan, and he flips the brochure over.

And then Dan sees it. In the top corner is Father Richard, smiling wide.

With his hand on Phil’s shoulder.

Dan feels his stomach churn violently as he looks at younger Phil. There’s no way it could be anyone else. Even if he’s a bit shorter, and his hair isn’t dyed, Dan’s studied Phil’s face long enough to know it’s him. As Dan grips the picture frame in his hands, Phil’s words from yesterday come back to him, hitting his chest like rocks.

“Hate the sin, love the sinner.”

Phil worked with Father Richard, at this-this “camp”, this place. They worked together.

“God loves us in spite of our flaws.”

Not only was Phil not gay, thus extinguishing the slightest bit of hope he had, but Phil was actively homophobic. Phil worked at a bloody conversion therapy site, for fuck’s sake.

“He’s got a path for all of us.”

Phil wasn’t uncomfortable about Father Richard-he was uncomfortable about Dan and their friends being around Father Richard, and them finding out just what a homophobic, lying, fake-

“I found Pop-Tarts!”

Phil’s voice interrupts the swirling thoughts in his head, and he slowly turns, holding the brochure up. “Were you ever going to mention this?” Phil’s face goes pale. “I...Where did you…” He whispers, but Dan growls. Actually growls. Red hot anger is taking control now as days, weeks, months, years of suffocated emotions rises to the top suddenly. A lifetime of not fitting in, a lifetime of hiding, and to be rejected by Phil-like this.

“Nice pic of you and your friend, Phil. You worked with him on this? You and Richard, two pals-and you knew we’d judge you for it, so you just decided not to tell us?!”

“Wait, wait, Dan, no. It’s not like that. That’s not what-” Phil tries to butt in. Dan isn’t having it.

“Do you realize what kind of damage you do to people, Phil?! You can’t act like-like Little Mr. Innocent about this, this is some seriously fucked up shit you’ve done!” Dan’s properly yelling now, getting to his feet and not even stopping as Phil cowers back. “And-And worst of all, you hid it from us! You talk like you love everyone, hiding behind your stupid flowery language, but you’re a total fucking hateful dick!”

Phil suddenly stands as well, putting his hands in front of his chest, but irritation is creeping into his voice. “Daniel. Listen to me, you don’t understand. I’m not hateful-” “Oh-Oh yeah? Not hateful, huh? Not hateful when you say ‘gay is an artificial construct, created to celebrate people’s sinful homosexual desires’? Or when your stupid fucking camp goes to ‘remove young men from their unhealthy environment to bring them to Jesus and see the errors they’re making’?” Dan’s reading directly from the pamphlet now. “That doesn’t sound loving, Phil!”

“Dan, let me-” “There is literally nothing you could say to make this better. You think you’re helping, don’t you? But you’re just-just spreading hate, and-” Dan’s words are cut off as Phil suddenly grabs him by the back of his head, pulling him into a hard kiss. For possibly the first time in his life, Dan is rendered speechless, especially a few moments later when Phil pulls away and his eyes well up.

“Dan…” He choked out, sinking down onto the couch and starting to sob. “I didn’t-I didn’t-” After a moment he grabs the brochure weakly. “I didn’t work at the camp.” He chokes out finally, and Dan just stands frozen in place. “I was a camper.”

Dan hates that he doesn’t know whether he should trust him or not. But...this is Phil, crying ugly, hard sobs, and he can’t help but feel his heart break in two. “A...camper?” He asks slowly, moving to sit next to him but keeping his distance.

Phil lets out a pained noise but nods. “I signed up to go. Because I kept having these-these dreams, and these urges. And I thought if I did everything right, if I listened to Father R-Richard…” He has to stop himself to catch his breath as it comes quicker, curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. “I thought if I could be perfect, I could b-be like him. A priest. A husband, to a wife. A father to my k-kids. An ex-homosexual.” He said, tears streaming down his face. “Dan, I-I tried so hard…” Dan frowns, running a hand through his hair slowly. “You can’t just-I mean, I don’t think it works like that, Phil,” Dan says after a moment, and Phil nods quickly. “I know, I know. God knows I know. They tried everything on m-me. I mean, everything. But the more they did, the more angry I got, with myself, with Richard, with God. I hated God, Dan, I hated him so much, and I did all this stuff…” Dan can’t stop himself but reaching out and taking his hand at that, and Phil clings to it almost instantly. “I lied, and I ripped up my Bible, and I did stuff with the other guys there…”

Dan blinked a few times. For Phil, that was intense, and he can hear the guilt and true sorrow in his voice. “You-I mean, no offense, but kissing a few guys and tearing up a book aren’t exactly unforgivable sins.” He says, hoping to bring him comfort. To his surprise, Phil laughs sadly.

“I did more than just kiss, trust me. When Richard found me in the showers with one of the guys-”

At that Dan’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. Phil, who half an hour ago was blushing at ads for tampons, in the showers with a guy? “He-He decided I needed more intense therapy. It was hours and hours of just being told how disgusting I was, being shown these videos, being preached at, b-but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop feeling like I did.”

“Phil…” Dan feels his broken heart finally crumble. He pulls him into a hug, letting him sob into his hair.

“F-Finally I just lied my way th-through it. That’s what m-most of us do. And then I was th-the big success story, and they took that dumb picture, and it was finally over. I went home, and I was so mad I decided I’d go through my Bible-the nice, new one my parents had bought me, when they heard that ‘somebody’ tore up my old one-to s-see how wrong I was before and how terrible He was. So I stayed up for nearly a week, no school, no nothing. Just reading.”

Phil pulled away to reach out, grabbing his copy of the Bible from his bag “ And as I read, I…”

He took a deep breath as he opened it up and slowly turned the pages, motioning to the Post-Its and notes littering the scripture. “I didn’t find that. I found a God that wanted me to love-He wanted me to love my family, and my friends, and my neighbors, and-and guys. He wanted me to love you. He wanted me to love you, romantically.” At that, Dan feels his heart stop and he gently moves to look Phil in the eyes. “You really think that?” He whispered, Phil nodding quickly as he ran a hand through Dan’s hair.

“God gave us all the ability to love-fully, and deeply, and wonderfully. And-And I love you, so much. I didn’t want to freak you out, and I’m not ready to be out, but-” This time it’s Dan’s turn to cut him off with a slower, gentler kiss. “Shh. We don’t have to tell anyone.” He murmured.

“It can just be us?” Phil asked in a small voice. “Just you and me?”

At that, Dan is pretty sure he’s going to explode, because dear God that’s all he’s ever wanted. He wants to scream, he wants to jump up and down, he wants to run down the fucking mountain and throw rocks at Father Richard’s car-

Instead, Dan takes a deep breath before smiling and nodding. “Just me and you.” He agreed quietly.

He leaned in and kissed Phil again, cupping his cheeks. This time was gentler, and Phil let out a soft, relieved noise as his lips moved against Dan’s and he pulled Dan close to him.

“I love you,” Dan says once they pull away. “I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Have I ever read you Proverbs 17:28?” Phil interrupts with a giggle. Dan raises an eyebrow but grabs Phil’s Bible, flipping to it.

Even a fool, when he holdeth his peace, is counted wise: and he that shutteth his lips is esteemed a man of understanding.

“Did you just ask me to shut up and keep kissing you through a Bible verse?!” Dan whined, but he can’t help but grin as Phil kept laughing, nodding as he connected their lips again.

Time seems to stand still. Two minutes, five minutes, ten minutes, ten hours, ten years-Dan can only guess how much time has passed when they hear the group off in the distance. “Shit-shit, okay, one last-” Dan jerked away but Phil giggled, grabbing the plate of Pop-Tarts and Dan’s hand before dragging him outside. He took him out a bit before they got down to the lake, sitting on the sand and wrapping his arms around Dan. Dan pauses before shyly climbing into his lap, and then they’re kissing again, Phil only pausing to catch his breath and murmur “I’m sorry you thought I could be homophobic.” “I’m sorry I didn’t ask before jumping to conclusions.” “I’m sorry I didn’t open up about what had happened.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep you away from Father Richard.” “I’m sorry I couldn’t have been that guy in the showers with you.” The words leave Dan’s mouth before he can stop himself-humor is a coping mechanism for him, but right now, he wants to kick himself when he hears Phil’s gasp.

“Oi! Not yet, at least.” He said with a slight laugh, pressing his lips to Dan’s cheek and watching as his face burns red. He grins and presses a few pecks to his lips before looking up at the sky.

“...You really think God wants this for us?” Dan says and Phil closes his eyes, snuggling closer.

“‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:113 to 114’.” Phil recited quietly. “God made us fearfully-like, with great awe and respect of us-and wonderfully. He made us find each other, he made us love each other.” He kissed Dan’s nose. “So that’s us. Fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dan looks at Phil with a soft smile, a bit worn from all the excitement of the day, but feeling...free. “Fearfully and wonderfully, huh?”

Phil nods, and Dan pulls him even closer.

“I could get used to that.”

#phan #dan howell #phil lester #dan and phil #phanfiction #phanfic #phanfic au

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spacesuitsforemergency · 4 years

Text

Earth Angel

Word Count: 2.7k

Pairing: Sam Alexander x Quill! Reader

Summary: Sam Alexander is an idiot

A/N: Btw this is the Guardians of the Galaxy plot line, but with my own spin. Set after Guardians 2. Sam’s backstory based off the Disney XD cartoon and comics. Also when I say her skin is Snow White I mean actual white, her being alien and all. First oneshot, kinda nervous 👉👈

Sam Alexander is an idiot.

It was just one of the facts of life. Like physics, death, that planets weren’t flat, or that Footloose is one of the greatest movies of all time.

He was annoying, he thought he was better than you because he could fly and stuff, and he stole your dads attention.

You were the daughter of the legendary outlaw, ex-Ravager, half god, Star Lord. Also the product of a one night stand with some alien chick. You never knew your mother, she dumped you with him as a baby. You never felt the need to find her, you had a family that loved you, even if they showed it in weird ways.

Rocket was cool, he taught you mechanics and how to build weapons that could blow up moons. Drax protected you as if you were his own daughter. Groot was nice to chill with when you wanted peace and quiet from your crazy family, he just stuck to his video games. Mantis was weird, but a good cook. Nebula was mean and scary, and she hated kids. She didn’t live on the Milano though, so it was chill. Gamora was a buzzkill, but taught you self defense and strategy. Plus she was dating your dad.

Then Sam Alexander, Nova, showed up one day. They spent more and more time helping him control his powers and find his dad. You felt left out and a little ignored, only increasing your resentment for the Earthling. You understood of course, if you got separated from your family you’d do anything you could to find them, but did he have to also be obnoxious and self absorbed? Of course he did.

You watched as Gamora, Drax and Groot began teaching him target practice, in the middle of the hallway. Because obviously that’s the ideal spot. He wasn’t a terrible shot, but he did miss and nearly shoot your dads head off.

“Woah! Watch where you’re pointing those things!” Quill shrieked as he jumped away from the energy beam.

“Oops.” Sam shrugged stupidly.

“You might want to get out of the way.” Gamora warned.

“Y/N, what’s up kiddo?” Your dad asked as he reached you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“He’s an awful shot.” You shook your head when Sam idiotically missed and hit the wall again.

“Think you can do better?” He turned and grinned cockily at you.

“I know I can.” You snapped back, glaring at the moronic look on his face.

“They shall compete, whoever wins will shoot the other in victory.” Drax announced.

“Nobody’s shooting anybody.” Your dad sighed. “Remember what happened last time?”

“A competition could motivate Samuel to do better.” Gamora shrugged. “I say it’s worth a shot.”

“What do you say? Up for it?” Your dad asked you both.

“It’s on, White Out.” Sam cracked his knuckles.

“You’re going down, Bucket Boy.” You sneered at him as you stood up, crossing the deck to glare up at him.

Star Lord tossed you one of your elemental guns, and Groot grew more fruits along his arm as targets. You both began shooting, your shots much more clean and precise, while his were messy and just plain luck.

“Ha! I win!” You cheered in victory.

“What? No way! I got way more than you did!” Sam crossed his arms.

“Are you kidding? You got like, 3!”

“Nuh Uh!”

“Drax! Did you see?” You whipped around angrily.

“It is true. Y/N Quill did win the competition.” Drax nodded. “You may now shoot Samuel in victory.”

“Gladly.” You turned back around and shot at his feet, making him yelp and jump away.

“Hey! Stop it!” He complained before running as you shot again.

“Get back here, coward!” You yelled as you chased him around the ship.

“Ow! Can someone stop her?”

Drax and Groot watched as he ran away from you as if he were being pursued by an army, and you charged and shot at his feet to scare him.

“She likes him, you know?” Gamora cleared her throat.

“What? No she doesn’t.” Quill scoffed as they watched. “She clearly hates him.”

“I agree with Gamora. Violence is the highest form of flattery.” Drax asked.

“I don’t think that’s right...”

“I am Groot.”

“Exactly! Thank you, Groot.” Quill laughed.

“You’re so cute.” Gamora chuckled. “You’ll see. I hated you when we first met, remember?”

“Wow, thanks.”

“Who’s killing who?!” Rocket yelled from somewhere below deck. “Can you guys keep the racket down?!”

“Ow! That’s my ankle!” Sam screeched.

“Oops! I do so sincerely apologize!”

“Okay, enough shooting, children! How about lunch?”

•

Sam didn’t know why you hated him so much. What’s not to like? He could flirt, he was handsome, he had a nice smile, and was the Human Rocket! He was cool!

Sure he had to make everything a competition, and sure he purposely aggravated you, and sure he teased you a lot, and sure he said stupid stuff...okay so he could see why you weren’t thrilled with his presence.

He didn’t know why he acted like this with you, he just...did. It definitely wasn’t cause he was a little intimidated by you. By your chocolate brown eyes, your smooth dark hair, your angelic, snow white complexion, your captivating smile or charismatic personality...no! Definitely not that.

When he initially met you he was charmed by your dorkiness and sarcasm. You greeted him happily and asked a bunch of questions. Overtime he noticed you became more distant, and you were competitive and angry at him. For no reason! It definitely wasn’t cause he called you Crest 3D White, that’s for sure.

“I can assist you, you know.”

“Huh?” He snapped out of his thoughts, turning to see Drax had joined him in the lounge, where he was playing an ancient video game from like, the 80s.

“I know you are attracted to Miss Y/N Quill.”

“W-What? No I...I don’t. What do you mean? Not me.” Sam stuttered, shaking his head quickly. “No I uh...I hate her! Yeah, she’s annoying.”

“But so are you. You are both dancers.”

“Huh?” He said stupidly, once again.

“Drax, leave the kid be, would ya?” Rocket said from his other side. Great, another eye witness of Sam’s humiliation.

“Samuel, I will tell you the same thing I told Quill to motivate him to pursue his love for Gamora.” Drax ignored the not-raccoon.

“Oh, here we go.” Rocket groaned. “Don’t listen to this nonsense-“

“There are two types of beings.” Drax continued. “Those that dance, and those that do not. You are a dancer. Miss Quill is a dancer.”

“Okay, so we both dance? So what?” Sam questioned.

“He means go for it!” Rocket rolled his eyes dramatically. “Listen, I’m only saying this cause I’m sick of watching you make goo goo eyes at her.”

“I don’t do that-“

“She likes you, you like her. What’s the holdup?”

“Well, she hates me?”

“Y/N Quill does not hate you, Samuel.” Drax heavily pat his shoulder. “She is much like Gamora. The more she shows dislike, the more she is allured by you.”

“That’s wrong on so many levels.” Rocket scoffed. “But he’s right.”

“Huh?” Sam gawked, once again.

This touching and informing conversation was interrupted when the ships was knocked aside by an explosion. They ran up front, seeing Chitauri battleships.

“They’re here for the helmet!” Gamora yelled to the team.

“Jump point! Jump point!” Quill ran to the controls, Rocket hopping into the co pilot seat.

“Y/N! Take Sam and take the back blasters!” Gamora ordered you.

“Come on, Bucket Head!” You grabbed his arm and dragged him below deck, leading him into the small room.

You and Sam quickly got in the chairs and activated the blasters, beginning to shoot down the Chitauri ships. The Milano shook as it was hit by the Chitauri weapons, the explosions loud and intense.

“Damn, you are a good shot!” Sam yelled over the commotion.

“I know!” You grinned, caught up in the excitement of the battle. “On your right!”

A blast hit the glass, nearly cracking it. You cursed and yelled up to the deck to get you guys out of there.

“Prepare for jump!” Gamora yelled down.

You both held onto your seats, before the ship catapulted through the jump point. You both fell forward onto the glass when the ship abruptly stopped, Sam hitting his nose directly on it.

You groaned as you got up, looking and seeing blood pouring down Sam’s face.

“Oh great, get blood all over the seats.” You teased. “I gotta clean that later.”

“Thanks for the concern.” He scoffed.

“I’m kidding. Come on.” You grabbed his arm and helped him up.

“You guys okay?” Your dad shouted as he ran below deck.

“Bucket Heads bucket didn’t protect his face.” You giggled as you handed Sam a roll of paper towels.

“Oh shut up.” He grumbled as he took off said Bucket and held a paper towel to his nose.

“Okay. Don’t use your helmet for now. We need to come up with a game plan.” Your dad ordered him. “Groot! Stay down here with them!”

“What? Why can’t we have a say in this?” You instantly snapped.

“Y/N, it’s time for the grown ups to talk.” Your dad said sternly as Groot trudged down the stairs, going to his room.

“But dad-!”

“Stay down here, okay? Keep an eye out behind us, Alright?”

“Fine.” You mumbled, plopping down onto the couch.

“Thank you.” Quill sighed before going back up to the deck.

Now it was awkward. Just you and Sam Alexander, the stupid Bucket Head. He avoided eye contact with you, focusing on holding the paper towel to his nose.

You tapped your fingers on the arm of the couch, trying to think of anything to break the tension and awkward silence. You didn’t have a tv down here, and the cassette player was above deck.

“Uh...you hungry?” You asked after awhile.

“Sure.” Sam shrugged.

You went to the kitchen and grabbed some snacks, tossing some to Sam as you walk back. You both silently ate, looking at anything but the other person. It was so quiet you could hear the muffled arguing of the Guardians above deck, in the lounge in an attempt to keep their conversation secret.

“Hey, Y/N?” Sam said finally, after an excruciating...25 minutes.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“Why do you hate me?”

You looked up from your food, your brown eyes locking on his green ones.

“I don’t hate you.” You sighed.

“Then why did you try to kill me the other day?” He chuckled. “And you always...glare at me.”

“I just...” you take a breath. “I don’t hate you. I’m just...you take up a lot of my dads attention.”

He blinks, then realizes what you’re saying.

“You’re jealous?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s not push it.” You say sternly, then soften up again. “But yeah.”

“Uh...why?”

“It’s gonna sound bratty.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” You repeat. “As soon as you got here, all the attention was on you. It’s always just been us, no one else. It was hard adjusting, I guess. My dad hasn’t really noticed me much cause he’s been focused on you. I understand, of course.”

“Oh...”

“I told you it’d sound bratty.”

“No! No.” Sam cleared his throat. “Not at all I just...I didn’t realize it. I just thought you didn’t like me.”

“Well, you are pretty annoying.” You giggle. “You think you’re a better shot than me.”

“I am though.” He grinned.

There was another long stretch of silence, but this one wasn’t uncomfortable or tense.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t really had a father figure in awhile. Your dads cool.” He fidgeted with his helmet, which was in his lap.

“He is.” You nod.

You both smile softly at each other, finally understanding the other for the first time since meeting.

“Wanna sneak upstairs and eavesdrop?” You offer.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He gave you a mischievous grin.

•

“Gamora! Drax! Rocket! Mantis! Quick! Somethings wrong with the children!” Quill whispered shouted into the kitchen, where said Guardians were eating.

“What? Did they finally kill the other?” Gamora asked as she joined Quill behind the doorway.

“No! They’re getting along!”

He pointed to where you and Sam were lounging together, laughing and chatting away.

“Well we can’t hear them over this damn music.” Rocket grumbled.

“If we turn it off they’ll get suspicious! You know how teenagers are!”

“Do you think they’ve lost attraction to each other?” Drax asked. “There are no signs of violence.”

“Which is a good thing, man.” Quill insisted. “Look at them! They’re basically in each other’s laps!”

“What do you-“

Gamora was cut off when suddenly you kissed Sam. The Guardians’ jaws all dropped, and Quill went to go go break it up.

“Don’t you dare!” Mantis tugged him back.

“The Creepy Bug Lady is right. You should never interrupt a moment like this, especially between beings their age.” Drax told Quill.

“We cannot give away that we’ve been spying on them.” Gamora nodded.

“They’ll never know, Sam’s too busy sucking face with my daughter!”

•

Of course you knew they were watching you. They weren’t exactly known for being inconspicuous.

Ever since the Chitauri attack you and Sam had gotten along great. You weren’t fighting or shooting each other anymore, and any competition was purely for fun. You were surprised nobody had pointed it out yet, since the Guardians has no shame in calling anybody out, and weren’t exactly known for thinking before they speak.

You saw them out of the corner of your eye while Sam was telling you about new video games on earth that were much bette than the ‘trash’ your dad owned. You just wished the music was quieter so you could hear what they were saying.

“Sam?” You said suddenly.

He stopped mid sentence and raised an eyebrow questioningly.

“Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. He assumed you would tell him something personal, since nobody says ‘can I tell you something?’ followed by something unimportant.

“I think I like you.”

“Well, you obviously don’t hate me anymore.” He shrugged. You blinked, thinking he was joking at first. Nobody could be this stupid. Yet of course, he proved you wrong.

“No, Sam.” You laugh. “I like you. Like like you.”

His eyes widen in realization, and his face heats up. He opens his mouth to say something, but he ended up looking like a bonehead.

Come on Sam! Say something! Anything! Anything at all!

“Neat.”

Not that!

“Oh, uh...” your face falls.

“No! That’s not what I meant!” He quickly says, now even more red and flustered. “I uh...I like you too! I just didn’t think you felt the same way, Y’know? You’re like really cool and really pretty. Not that I like you cause of your looks! That’s just a plus! You’re badass! Not that I-“

You cut him off by kissing him, and you could hear your dad shriek over the music. Sam stiffened, eyes wide. When he finally kisses back you realize he’s actually a good kisser. He hooks and arm around your waist as you wrap yours around his neck.

When you pull away you both don’t know what to say, just staring into each other’s eyes.

Come on Sam, think of something.

His eyes turned to the cassette player when a familiar song started playing. His mom used to play it in the car on the way home from school.

Earth angel, Earth angel, will you be mine? My darling dear, love you all the time. I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.

“Do you uh...wanna dance?” He cleared his throat awkwardly.

Earth angel, Earth angel, the one I adore. Love you for ever, and ever more. I’m just a fool, a fool in love with you.

You smile at the offer, standing and pulling him up with you. You guide one of his hands to your waist, intertwine your fingers with his other hand.

I fell for you, and I knew. The vision of your love's loveliness. I hope and I pray, that some day. I'll be the vision of your hap, happiness.

You both sway gently with each other, your head resting on his shoulder, this time unaware of the eyes on you.

“Told you she liked him.” Gamora whispered to Quill.

“Yeah yeah.” Quill grumbled, keeping his eyes on the two of you.

“See Rocket? They’re both dancers.” Drax grinned proudly.

You giggled as he dipped you, leaning down and kissing you gently.

Oh, oh, oh, Earth angel, Earth angel, please be mine. My darling dear, love you for all time. I'm just a fool, a fool in love with you.

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fantastic-bby · 3 years

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Books & Poems I love

Hello, I am just dumping my favourite books and poems here because I like them and I want people to read them too bcs they're cool. Disclaimer: I haven't read some of these books in a REALLY long time, so the explanations might be a bit off since this is mostly what I remember from when I had read them. All will be under the cut and I hope someone out there finds these as enjoyable as I do!

Books

1. Huntress by Malinda Lo

Nature is out of balance in the human world. The sun hasn’t shone in years, and crops are failing. Worse yet, strange and hostile creatures have begun to appear. The people’s survival hangs in the balance.

To solve the crisis, the oracle stones are cast, and Kaede and Taisin, two seventeen-year-old girls, are picked to go on a dangerous and unheard-of journey to Tanlili, the city of the Fairy Queen. Taisin is a sage, thrumming with magic, and Kaede is of the earth, without a speck of the otherworldly. And yet the two girls’ destinies are drawn together during the mission. As members of their party succumb to unearthly attacks and fairy tricks, the two come to rely on each other and even begin to fall in love. But the Kingdom needs only one huntress to save it, and what it takes could tear Kaede and Taisin apart forever.

I cannot express how much I adore this book. It's so well-written and the entire book feels like such an adventure to read. I have to warn everyone who will read this that it is quite violent. I also love the WLW inclusion which is carried throughout the story. It's also mentioned in the beginning that Kaede does not want to marry a prince because she could never marry a man. It's filled with lots of romance and it's fantasy because I'm a sucker for fantasy reads.

My sister had bought this book for me after I had lost my first copy and my cat peed on my second copy. The first time, I had bought it from a Big Bad Wolf sale in about 2014. The second, I ordered it through Kinokuniya, but I'm pretty sure you can get it off of Amazon as well.

2. Teardrop by Lauren Kate

Never, ever cry . . .

Seventeen-year-old Eureka won't let anyone close enough to feel her pain. After her mother was killed in a freak accident, the things she used to love hold no meaning. She wants to escape, but one thing holds her back: Ander, the boy who is everywhere she goes, whose turquoise eyes are like the ocean.

And then Eureka uncovers an ancient tale of romance and heartbreak, about a girl who cried an entire continent into the sea. Suddenly her mother's death and Ander's appearance seem connected, and her life takes on dark undercurrents that don't make sense.

Can everything you love be washed away?

This is also a book that I've read multiple times. I've even read the sequel, Waterfall, but I don't think I actually got around to finishing it since I bought it right before my exams. Another love and fantasy novel, it covers a lot of grieving and pain that Eureka goes through after losing her mother and at one point, she actually wishes it was her that had died during the accident.

Her relationship with Ander is quite sudden since he just shows up out of nowhere and just happens to know practically everything about her. I, personally, enjoy this book out of the amount of angst that it's filled with. It's very well-written and I still have the first copy that I bought at the same Big Bad Wolf sale that I had gotten Huntress. I think I had gotten the sequal at Kinokuniya as well (?), but I'm not entirely sure because it's been a really long time.

3. Shatter Me by Tahereh Mafi

No one knows why Juliette's touch is fatal, but The Reestablishment has plans for her. Plans to use her as a weapon. But Juliette has plans of her own. After a lifetime without freedom, she's finally discovering a strength to fight back for the very first time--and to find a future with the one boy she thought she's lost forever.

Another very angsty book. It centres around Juliette, a girl who, for some reason, kills everyone she touches. It's also written in First POV and in the format of a journal. It feels more personal because some of the lines are striked through to show a thought that Juliette had in the moment of writing that she decided to replace with a different approach instead.

The beginning is basically Juliette being locked away in some sort of a prison because of her 'gift' and she writes to keep herself from going crazy, but then one day some guy is put into the same cell as her. It's another romance novel and also a kind of superhero novel It also gets pretty... ahem... seggsy... at one point, but it's a good read.

I've read the entire series aside from Restore Me. I have it, but I haven't gotten around to reading it yet. Shatter Me is also from the same Big Bad Wolf sale as the other two lol. Juliette is also trapped in a love triangle at one point, but I won't get into it. It also gets a bit violent, but slightly less graphic than Huntress is and is also another 'self-discover' kinda book. (can you see a theme here that I read lol)

4. Winter's End by Jean-Claude Mourlevat

Four teenagers escape from their prison-like boarding schools to take up the fight against the tyrannical government that murdered their parents fifteen years earlier. But only three of the friends make it safely to Jahn's restaurant, the headquarters of a secret resistance movement, where they discover the astonishing power that one voice can have in the fight for freedom.

As the battle rages, the three friends are in a race against time to save their companion, who has been forced to participate in a deadly, ancient game for the amusement of his captors. Will this new generation prevail, or are they destined to meet the same grisly fate as their parents?

This is also extremely angsty. It's also pretty violent as well, so that's a warning for whoever will read this. Once again, well-written, nice flow to the story and I just really like this book. There's a lot of uncovering in the book that makes you go HUH because the four students end up uncovering a lot about their government and the secrets that involve the four of them.

It has a very heavy dark tone to it, which I really enjoy. It's a bit different from the other three which is less fantasy and more of a dystopian book. It's a very heroic, determination feeling that follows the students as they journey throughout the book. Also something that follows the students are a group of dog-men... things... that I'm pretty sure I actually had small nightmares imagining when I had read this in around 2013 or 2014.

Poems

Disclaimer: Half of these were poems I did essays on in high school aside from L. These are my illustrations of it and they're the ones that stood out to me when I had first read them.

1. Daffodils by William Wordsworth

I read this in high school when I was taking English Literature. It's a poem that Wordsworth wrote after his wife had passed away. I love the way it's written and William Wordsworth is one of my favourite poets. It's filled with the feeling of being lost and rediscovering the joys of the small things in life. There's a lot of imagery that refers to the flower, daffodil, and overall, it's just a a very soft themed poem.

I think the reason this poem stood out to me was because I was feeling a bit lost at the time I read it (the end of highschool) and I was desperately trying to find something I could relate to in some way.

2. Winter by Andrew Young

Another one that contains a lot of imagery. It's a poem about the beauty of Winter and how, while it's seen as a dark and gloomy season, it has hidden beauties that you can see if you're able to look past the initial image of it.

This poem in particular, I'm pretty sure I have a soft spot for in my heart mainly because of the soft spot I have for Winter in general.

3. London by William Blake

This is a more dark toned poem. It covers what old London used to be like with the raging poverty at the time. A lot of child labour and sex workers that would struggle with making money when they would accidentally get pregnant.

It's quite a depressing poem that I like because of the dark undertone and I, personally, really enjoy William Blake's works.

4. L by Bernice Chauly

L is a poem about how her daughter had cut her hair right after going to the hairdressers. While Chauly's daughter is crying when she yells at her, Chauly is reminded of when she had done something similar when she had just turned five years old. She thinks back to it and remembers that, at the time, all she wanted was to see her late father.

This is also more heavy set and it makes me think of the way children must feel when they lose their parents at such young ages.

#books #poems #literature #reading material

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sanders-sides-fic · 4 years

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There is no nice deathworlders! (Right?) [Chapter 3]

AU-masterpost: here

Virgil had been outside for hours now. He’d left the cage for two reasons, one of them being that he didn’t want to freak the creathen out even further. He had been able to tell that he didn’t want to be close to Virgil and Virgil couldn’t even blame him.

However, after being outside for so long, he started to wonder. Was the creathen safe? If he’d cut his bindings somehow and escaped, well, good for him. Now that his skin was healed up enough for him to be conscious again the alien would probably be fine. But what if something had crept up into the cave and attacked him? He wasn’t really able to fight, Virgil had made sure of that. For his own safety, because he doubted that the creathen would have let him talk.

Not that he had even been able to do so earlier. Virgil was still frustrated by that, but he was pretty happy that the creathen had understood what Virgil wanted to communicate in the end.

Still. If anyone or anything would attack the creathen now he’d probably die and it’d be Virgil’s fault. The longer he was gone, the worse the anxiety got. But if he didn’t search, he wouldn’t be able to find Janus and he wouldn’t be able to safe any other potentially hurt crew members of his new acquaintance. He also doubted that the creathen wanted his protection. Or realize that that was what it was. Judging from the reactions he had gotten so far for being a human, he’d probably just assume Virgil had come to kill him and/or fry him in a cauldron.

Then again, he hadn’t slept last night and this night was almost over as well. The storm had cleared up enough to see some of the stars as well. Maybe Virgil could just sleep outside the cage and make sure the creathen was safe? He did need sleep. He had a feeling that the days on this planet were shorter than back on earth, but he was tired nonetheless. Really tired. He’d be anxious to get here, so he hadn’t been able to sleep before coming to this planet.

Disappointedly, Virgil turned around with a sigh. Well, maybe he would have better luck tomorrow. Maybe. But probably not. It had been stupid to get his hopes up, really. After all, there had only been rumors of a human being here. And those rumors had only been of a human screaming. Not many aliens actually knew what a human scream sounded like, so there was a high chance it was just that: a rumor. But it had been his first lead in ages! He couldn’t just not hope.

When he got back to the cave, he could hear the creathen talk. At first he thought someone had found them, but it turned out to be the same self-talking habits he had tended to when Virgil had first spotted him.

“You know, Remus, you should really wake up.”, he said with a sigh. “You’re missing out on all the action. You always said how you wanted to get to know a deathworlder, right? And now we’re trapped by one. They could come back any moment now. Come on, you crazy shit. I need your help right now. And… I miss you…” The creathen’s voice broke at that last statement. Or the creath’s voice, Virgil guessed. It almost sounded like the second creath inside the creathen’s body had yet to grow conscious again. That was… Well, it definitely wasn’t good. Virgil knew that much, even if he didn’t know anything else.

Remus was the unconscious creath’s name, huh? Virgil felt bad for Remus’s twin. It sounded as though he was suffering without his twin’s support. There wasn’t much Virgil could do about it, though. At least not that he knew about and he doubted the creath would just ask him for help. So he sat down with another sigh. He didn’t enter the cave and he didn’t listen to what else Remus’s brother said to Remus. It felt as though he’d be intruding on a very personal moment.

So, instead he looked up to the stars. They were so similar to what stars looked like on earth, just in other constellations. And clearer. Virgil supposed light pollution wasn’t really a thing on ZH-8. It wasn’t on most planets.

When they had just escaped the smuggler’s ship, Virgil and Janus had played star-guessing. It was basically like cloud guessing. They would form their own constellations and name them. Not the way they had been named on earth, no, they would give them names that actually fitted how they looked. Virgil’s all time favorite was still “the drunken dwarf” that Janus had spotted on a planet called GK-9J6. And every time they had ended with guessing which star up there was the sun, or wether they could even see the sun at all. It wasn’t a very strong or bright star, Virgil had understood that pretty early on.

Virgil hadn’t played anymore since Janus disappeared. So far that rumor had been the only true one about them. That Janus had been lost in a smoke storm on a planet close by. He knew the aliens around here just used it as a horror story or to warn their young of the dangers of the deathworlders. Because Virgil was so dangerous with his social anxiety, selective mutism and terrible orientation. Yes, truly the attributes of a vicious killer who would stalk his pray to the ends of the galaxy. Absolutely.

He sometimes wondered how some of the rumors had started at all. One time, when he had been disguised on a market far far away from here, there had even been a rumor that included how “no one ever lived to tale the tale”. But how the hell did they think those stories were from then?! It was just plain stupid. And neither he nor Janus would ever kill children for the fun of it in front of their tied up parents. That was just horrible! Not even Janus lied like that. But, whatever. It wasn’t as though he could do anything about it. And back on earth people had been gossiping about the strange, edgy teenager as well. So he was used to it.

Looking back up, he suddenly saw a bunch of stars that looked like the head of a snake. A small grin appeared on his lips at that. He would call this constellation “Janus’s true form”. That was the last thought that crossed his mind before he fell asleep.

…

A man in a black suit entered the strange room they put Virgil in. How long had he been in here? He had hoped those evil fucks would just leave him alone after he injured that other… thing. It had ben hauntingly easy to do so, too. Virgil still wasn’t over it.

He guessed that being left alone had been wishful thinking after all, as he stood up slowly. His black hoody was sipped up, hiding the purple tee underneath. But that didn’t help much in the white room. Those fucks couldn’t see properly, Virgil guessed, so it worked for them. But this man, this human, wouldn’t be bothered by a little bit of shadows. He knew that.

Virgil tried to speak to the man in the suit, but it didn’t work. Apparently his meds didn’t work anymore. With an annoyed huff, he decided to settle for a glare when he couldn’t demand answers. The man smiled and it was an empty, friendly, polite, pleasant smile. The kind you would see on posters right before a vote or on those big galas his dad threw or equally stupid stuff like that. It annoyed Virgil even further. What the hell?

“Hello”, the man said in a very calm, smooth voice. It was like vanilla ice cream. Virgil didn’t like it one bit. “I hope you can speak my language?”, the man continued to talk. The answer was easy, even without talking. But should Virgil answer? It was the first person that spoke his language and he still didn’t know what the fuck was going on. And he had been told to build report with kidnappers so they would see him as a person instead of a thing and not kill him. Not dying sounded like a good plan. So, after a moment’s notice, Virgil nodded once.

The man’s disgusting smile deepened. “Splendid. Now, I am going to tell you what our… predicament here is and I hope you believe me. Don’t worry, they can’t understand what I am telling you. I would like it very much if you could put on your acting face too, so they don’t get suspicious. Can you do that?”

Virgil nodded again. The man nodded back. And neither did his smile falter nor did it leave his voice, even when he started to explain: “I know this might sound crazy, but we have been abducted. By aliens. This is an illegal smuggler ship and we will most likely die soon.”

What. The. Hell?!

It was really hard not to show his shock or fear right now. Instead, Virgil pulled his arms around himself in a tight hug and pressed his lips together. He hoped he looked more angry than scared, though.

“You’re doing great, darling. Now, I managed to get onto somewhat friendly terms with those squalid fucks. That’s why they put me here. I’m supposed to calm you down and make you obedient or something the like. They trust me. Not entirely, but a little.” Ah, great. Fucking perfect! So this man was with them, then. Shit!

But the man didn’t stop there. As though he understood Virgil’s unease, his smile deepened and he let out a polite little chuckle: “I know this is a fucked situation and we both don’t want to be here. So I want to propose using their trust, shoving it down their throats, make them suffocate on it and ripping out their vital organs until they regret ever even thinking about taking either of us. I’ve had quite some time here and I have a somewhat good plan, but I can’t pull it off alone. I don’t know about you but I, for one, don’t want to die in some dump after they are through with me or get soled as a slave to another species. Believe me, humans aren’t well liked around here. Bad reputation. Ah! It’s the worst.” He chuckled again.

Virgil could only stare at him in disbelieve. That guy was crazy. This man had lost it. Whatever those things did to him, he was a goner now. And still the only hope Virgil had. God, he was screwed. However, the man was right. He didn’t want either of those options happening to him either. Not to anyone, actually. So Virgil gave the man another tight-lipped nod.

“Oh, thank god! I was worried you wouldn’t let me. My name is Janus. Janus Serpent. And you are…?”, the man chuckled. And looked at Virgil expectantly. Great. How did you talk again? Virgil opened his mouth, trining to say something, but could only close it in the end. He shook his head frustratedly.

“Oh! Are you mute, darling?”

Well… Not quite. But it was as close as the man would probably get. So Virgil raised his hand and shook it in an so-so motion. Janus nodded.

“I see. Hm… Do you know ASL by any chance?”

Virgil nodded. Yes! Yes, he did. He had learned it because someone suggested it might help. It wasn’t really a solution, but it was easier than using his voice. So Virgil raised his hand and started spelling out his name.

“V-I-R-G-I-L-F-E-L-I-N-E…? Uhm…Virgil Feline? Is that you? Wait, so you are the son of that CAO?”

Fuck. So Janus had heard of him before. Damnit! Did he even want to work with Virgil now? After all, the news had been full of those petty “crimes” for years now. But that wouldn’t keep Janus from escaping together, right? He’d said he needed the help, right?

“Perfect.”, Janus smiled to Virgil’s surprise, “Then you will understand a lot more of what I’m about to tell you. I heard you like to sneak around. That might just come in handy…”

The creath inside the cave woke up from a sound outside the next morning. It was almost as though something was in pain. Was the deathworlder back? Had they tortured an innocent being? God, he wished he had Remus to talk to!

Roman took a look towards his bindings. He’d tried to cut them with the scale on his tale, but it was made more for poking than cutting, so he’d only managed one of the many times it had been wrapped around his wrists before it had hurt too much to go on. What would the deathworlder do when they found out, that Roman had tried to disobey them and flee? He shuddered at the thought.

Another sound captured Roman’s attention. It really was the deathworlder. Roman could see them in the little light entering the cave from outside. He really wished for Logan’s night vision right about now… Something was strange, though. Aside from the mud all over them, there was water on their face. What…? But the storm had long since been gone. Where did that come from? What did it mean?

The otherworldly predator decided to sit down across from Roman, an empty look on their face. Their eyes looked at Roman, but it felt more as though they looked through him.

Maybe he shouldn’t have given up on freeing himself yesterday after all. He doubted that look was a good one…

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thewriterwithnoplan · 4 years

Text

Fire, Brimstone and the Glory of Gotham (Part 1)

Summary: Bart Allen always seems to know something about something. Strange facts or secrets or theories gifted to him from his soulmate. This ‘gift’ along with his forbidden speed wielding abilities, get him landed smack bang in the center of the Gotham Resistance - an army fighting against the Reach with the help of villains and assassins. Tangled up with the Council of Robins - an elitist group of heroic descendants - and their fearless leader Y/N Drake AKA Commander Apocalypse, Bart must navigate this new environment like a minefield. Because one wrong step could bring his life and the lives of every last human being, to a short and bitter end. Pairing: Bart Allen x Reader Word Count: 2377 Warnings: Probably swearing.

The Reach liked to say that Humans had brought this upon themselves. With their medalling heroes and their strange customs. They liked to blame the Earth itself for being so enticing with its meta-humans and its soulmates. It had only been a matter of time before an alien race had discovered the true power human's harbored and decided to take it for themselves.

Sometimes Y/N wondered if the Reach would have left them well enough alone without soulmates. Not that she'd ever wanted a soulmate or even given the concept much thought. But the arrival of the Reach had put humanity at an impasse, and it was common knowledge nowadays that soulmates were not something to celebrate.

In fact, many couples despised each other or went as far as getting rid of their soul bound. Significant others or relationships of any kind were far too dangerous in the modern era. Why would you want a soulmate when the most they could do was give you more to worry about? Honestly, Y/N couldn't see the appeal and that was perhaps the only thing that had kept her alive all these years.

"Ready?" Mari' Grayson – Y/N's closest thing to a sister – nudged her softly, green-glowing eyes innocently curious. The H/C haired girl kept her eyes trained dutifully forward, watching the digital numbers flash above them, announcing their acescent through the elevator shaft.

"Kind of feeling the mode actually," She answered honestly.

Y/N hated choosing ceremonies. Hand-picking someone to put their life on the line in order to help them in their war against the Reach. But it was one of her most important jobs as Commander of the Gotham Resistance. If she chose wrong and they accidentally divulged secrets to a spy, the entire operation could come crumbling down. It was one of the few things that Y/N despised about her life; the fact that she had to send people to their deaths and the fact that said people were willingly lining up for it.

"Have you seen the line up yet?" Mari' asked as she repositioned her tiara and brushed off her purple vigilante outfit, appearing far too old to be a mere ten years old. "Riding Hood says there'll be mostly civilians like usual, but apparently one of the descendants is going to come. Crash, huh?"

"A descendant? As in, child of one of the old heroes?" Y/N frowned at the too eager nod she received from Mari', "Haven't seen a new one of them in a good few years. Speaking of Riding Hood where is Jocelyn? I thought one of the Todds would want to be here especially if there's supposed to be a descendant."

"Uncle Jason has them off patrolling Star City." The young girl shrugged, raven curls bouncing with the gesture. "Apparently the Arrows called in a Code Blue."

"They saw Blue Beatle, and nobody thought to tell me?"

"They asked specifically for the Todd's help." She murmured timidly. "You know how the Arrows get, but Uncle Roy and Lian trust them."

"Still Mari' we've talked about this," Y/N sighed as she straightened out her own outfit – mostly consisting of black with red and yellow highlights, "Jocelyn may be eldest, but I was elected as Commander."

Mari' gave a small apologetic smile as the pair continued to stare at the many, many levels of the Batcave. Once upon a time – according to Mari's father, Dick Grayson – there had only been a few small levels that they mostly used as a base of operations. It was still a base of operations, but desperate times had called it into service for more than that.

After the destruction of the Mount. Justice, Bruce Wayne had gone to work on the cave. And thank the gods he had. The rebellion didn't just work out of the Batcave, they all lived there. They had been forced to after the destruction of Wayne manor. It was the only home that Y/N had ever known. She'd been raised here, trained here, had run the Resistance from within the cold stone walls for years.

But it was times like these that she didn't recognize the compound. Perhaps it was because she was so very different from the starry-eyed girl that had bounced the halls like Mari' herself could. Sometimes she envied the young girl for her innocence – even if she was prone to violent joy like the rest of them. Y/N would never admit it but sometimes her mind wandered, and she found herself contemplating what it would be like if she wasn't the second oldest.

"We'd likely all be dead," The boy behind them chimed, making Mari' jump out of her skin. Even Y/N had forgotten that Dorian Wayne was there. "Yeah, people do that a lot."

"Again Dorian, stop reading my mind."

Gods sometimes Y/N fucking hated Dorian. Don't get her wrong the boy was basically her sibling – as was Jocelyn and Mari' – but he could drive her crazy sometimes. His Telepathy could get rather pesky in a domestic situation, so it was lucky that they were barely ever off the battlefield. Besides, Y/N would have to deal with Dorian anyway even if they hadn't been almost siblings. The fact that the boy was heir to the League of Assassins always seemed to work in their favor despite the fact that Dorian was a dumbass.

"Rude." He hissed lightly, although she knew that he put up with them too. From what he'd told her, the Resistance's compound was a much better place to be raised in comparison to the League of Assassins. Even if they were constantly in battles or at these choosing ceremonies or sitting through lengthy council meetings.

Dorian frowned at her, "I was being serious though. If you weren't the commander, then the Resistance would probably have been moded years ago."

"That's crash of you D." Y/N gave a dry chuckle. "But I'm just the face of the Resistance, the Council is a collective it's not just me pulling the strings."

"Bullshit," He grumbled like a small child – unsurprising for his fourteen years. "We all listen to you. Mari' follows you like a puppy and Jocelyn... Bad example but if she listens to anyone it's you."

"Thank you, Dorian."

"It's true," Mari' grinned up at her, "Whenever Daddy stops by, he says that the Old Heroes would have liked you. He thinks you're the perfect leader for the Council of Robins."

"Sweetheart." Y/N sighed deeply as the young girl sniffled softly. It wasn't often that Dick Grayson – the Golden boy and first Robin – was seen or discussed but whenever he came up it was a sore subject. Ever since that first day when he had swooped in, dropped Mari' off and disappeared they'd all made it clear how they felt about him. But the Council – meaning Dorian, Jocelyn, and Y/N – knew how important that relationship was to Mari'. It didn't make it hurt any less.

They'd all been there though. Mari' was just the latest one to be dumped at the compound where all sorts of meta children seemed to end up. Although Mari' was still one of the lucky ones, children - like the ones they were going to be choosing from – often didn't have parents and had to fight to get a place in the Resistance. Even meta-humans and descendants of the old heroes had to earn their keep. Mari' was more fortunate than she knew, being born into her position on the Council of Robins was probably the only thing that had kept her alive all these years.

Y/N sighed and pulled the young girl - who was still unnervingly small for her age - to sit on her hip. Dorian and Y/N began cooing at their fellow Robin, talking about how proud of her they were. It was something they all did for each other, especially since only Jason had stuck around for his child. Neither of the elder council members seemed to hear the elevator ding over their coddling but they certainly realized after the doors opened. Eight young faces stared at the three Robin's as they swiftly straightened and exited the elevator.

"Not a word." Was all Dorian bothered to say to them as he settled into a highbacked office chair. Despite the fact that the black leather half-swallowed him, he still managed to make the gesture look threatening. Y/N stifled a laugh as she gently set Mari' down and took her own seat.

"Now," Y/N said calmly, "As most of you know, the Resistance houses all those who can make it here-" A few tense shoulders slackened in relief but then the girl added sharply, "However. Those of you who are here to join our fighters will not be so easily accepted. If you would like to take a place in the Resistance step forward."

One of the boys stepped forward eagerly, almost vibrating with excitement. The others seemed less than sure as they glanced between one another. Only three more stepped forward before the remaining four were escorted out and to whatever room that Alice Pennyworth - their head of care and communication - had assigned them.

Y/N glanced at the four left - the over-eager-brunette-boy, a stoic-blond-girl and a pair of twins who stood far too still to be natural. Dorian frowned at her, motioning to his head as if to say; let me read their minds. She sent him a harsh glare, the last time he had tried to read anyone but his family's minds - who he got into far too easily - they'd ended up as drooling messes on the floor.

Noticing that her cousins were caught up in a glaring competition Mari' spoke for them, "What makes you special?"

"I am Kun and this is Lou." The first twin said softly, "We hail from Metropolis."

Someone sucked in a sharp breath at the mention of Gotham's sister city. Metropolis was said to be a dead zone for anyone foolish enough to go anywhere in the vicinity. Once upon a time, it had been protected by the Superfamily who had run an operation much like the Council of Robin's.

Whenever Damian Wayne and Jon Kent visited, they often spoke about how it had once been the Sunshine city. Nowadays Gotham was the only safe place - save Star city thanks to the Arrows but they didn't run anything like the Resistance, they protected it mostly for spite. So, coming from Metropolis was skill enough.

"I spent three years in the pits," The red-haired girl huffed. It suddenly made sense why her body was mostly muscle even when her face seemed hollow. Kids who got caught by the more merciful Reach members were sent to the pits where they mined for them or fought each other for entertainment.

The over-eager-brunette-boy sped forward a few steps as he blurted, "I'm the last descendant of the Flash!"

Silence rolled over the room as the three other contenders winced. Descendants were usually their most sought-after members. Often, they got accepted immediately after a blood test. But a child if the Flash? Yeah, Y/N didn't think so, she sent Dorian a look that said as much. He nodded once and drew the sword from across his back. Mari' jumped slightly, skittered off her seat and leaped onto Y/N’s lap.

“Children of Flash are enemies of the Council of Robin’s,” Dorian gave a savage grin as Mari’ buried her head in the crook of her Y/N’s neck, “Leave Gotham or we will be forced to call in a full response.”

A full response. Not something they did for just anyone but speedsters? Hell yeah, they were going to call everyone they knew. The Council of Robin’s had lost far too much at the hands of the Flash and his descendants. It had been one of the Flash’s descendants – Y/N had never cared to learn which one - who had chosen to check on his soulmate instead of saving countless civilians. The decision had left Jocelyn’s mother, Nightingale, Mari’s mother, Starfire, and Y/N’s own mother – Wandera – at the mercy of the Reach’s very worst members.

The Council of Robins - and the Gotham Resistance by extension – liked to call it the Spitfire complex. It could happen to anyone if you thought about it, but those with the power of the speed force seemed programmed that way. They fell madly, irreversibly in love. Y/N thought it might have been nice had they not been living in a post-apocalyptic wasteland where that sort of bullshit could get them all killed. Spitfires were dangerous, they often went insane if their other half passed – so Y/N wasn’t taking any chances.

“Wait n-” The boy protested only to be cut off by Dorian placing his katana at his neck.

Y/N nodded to the girl and the pair of twins, “You three are dismissed, training starts tomorrow at eighteen hundred.”

“Thank you, Commander.” The girl breathed in relief, that tough exterior breaking for a moment as she ducked her head in thanks and followed as Alice returned to lead them to their quarters.

Y/N’s eyes settled on the brunette. He was so energetic in a way that she could almost feel the innocence rolling off of him in waves. It almost made her feel guilty for nodding to Dorian and watching as her cousin dragged the shaking boy off. But that boy – no matter how innocent he seemed – would grow to be just like the man who had let her mother and the mothers of her beloved cousins die.

Mari’ looked up at Y/N with round green eyes, as she huddled tighter into her embrace. She whispered something far too softly for the older girl to hear. Again, and again the youngest Robin whispered until her voice grew confident enough for Y/N to hear.

“Nightstar,” Mari’ murmured, a small smile erasing the wary look in her eyes. The tradition always did that to any of the Robin’s on the Council. It had started with their mothers – whispering their names until they felt free enough to say it to the world – and they had passed it to the Council.

“Nightstar.”

Y/N smiled softly down at the young Tameranian as she added her own name to the chant, “Apocalypse.”

@hm02

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mymoodwriting · 4 years

Text

Blood Moon

Sehun x Vampire!Chanyeol

Genre: Vampire AU

Warning: Blood, Biting, Abuse, Drowning, Suffocation, Trauma, Fear, Anxiety

Words: 2.4K

Chapters:

Prompt: Sehun’s life had always been uneventful and lonely. People never really stuck around, so when he finds himself kidnapped by a beautiful stranger he doesn’t know how to feel. Should he be happy that he’s wanted by someone or concerned with escaping even if no one would care he was missing. The only other issue was his kidnapper, who clearly wasn’t human.

With no sense of time Sehun felt like he was going crazy. Even with dry clothes there was a lingering scent of soup which only kept his hunger pains alive. He was really tired, figuring that getting some sleep would be to his benefit, he couldn’t feel hungry if he was unconscious. He wasn’t sure for how long he slept, since when he woke up nothing had changed.

The second he sat up his stomach cried out again. He looked at the wrappers from the snacks, seeing if maybe he had missed something but there was nothing left to eat. For some reason he tried opening the door again but it was still locked. He looked around the bathroom to see if he could find anything to use as a weapon but there was nothing useful. When he looked at his reflection he could see just how pale he was.

Despite sleeping he still felt tired, his lack of energy not helping him figure out an escape plan. He rubbed his neck and groaned, finally noticing the two marks on his neck. They seemed to be healing but still rather fresh. He vaguely remembered being attacked by Chanyeol, but was this his injury. He looked closer, making them out to be some kind of bite mark.

“What the…”

His injury didn’t make sense, well it did in one context, but come on, vampires weren’t real. It was probably some kinda needle or he was stabbed with a weird knife. He gently touched the marks, suddenly remembering how he felt when he was attacked, it didn’t hurt, it actually felt good, really good. He shook his head, laughing at his own stupidity, maybe he had been drunk that night.

He suddenly heard the door being unlocked and he rushed over to his corner. He felt dizzy over the fast movement, suddenly wanting to throw up, not like there would be anything but bile anyway. When the door opened another delicious smell engulfed the room and Sehun couldn’t help but whimper.

“Do you even move?” Chanyeol asked, but got no response. “So, are you gonna eat this time or should I just dump the food and leave?”

“No!”

Sehun felt pathetic but he was starving, he wanted to eat. His hasty response brought a smile to the others lips. Chanyeol pulled up the table close to Sehun and put down the tray.

“Alright then, eat.”

Sehun stared at the food, then up at Chanyeol.

“If you’re concerned over me drugging the food I assure you I didn’t. I wouldn’t taint you like that.”

He didn’t know if he could believe those words but he was hungry. He swallowed his own pride and moved up, starting to eat. The first bit of food in his mouth tasted like heaven and he dug in without remorse. Chanyeol chuckled, petting the other boys head as he ate.

“Do you want seconds?”

Sehun nodded shyly, the food was good and he was still pretty hungry. Whatever dignity he had he had thrown out the window by now. Chanyeol took the empty bowl and left, telling Sehun to drink his juice. He never really like cranberry but it seemed to be his only option. When Chanyeol returned he couldn’t help but perk up.

“While you eat I’ll get you some new sheets okay.”

This time Sehun had the luxury of eating alone. He really shouldn’t be happy but it had been so long since he had a home cooked meal, and it was really good. When he finished the second bowl he took a moment to see how he felt, he felt fine, so the food hadn’t been poisoned in any way.

When Chanyeol returned he scurried to his corner, only moving when he was asked to so the sheets could be replaced. Chanyeol stood over him, Sehun staring at the floor, hating how small the space was. His hair was played with for a bit before his chin was grabbed, forcing him to look at Chanyeol.

“You smell like soup, how about a bath?”

Sehun didn’t answer, he knew he wouldn’t have a say in the matter. Chanyeol blindfolded him and took him out of the room. He wasn’t sure why, he expected the outside to look like some dungeon, that didn’t stop him from trying to peek and look around, he saw nothing though. They went down a hall then took a right, going into a room, and then another. When the blindfold was removed he found himself in a rather luxurious bathroom.

The tub could clearly hold at least two people, and it suddenly hit him he was probably gonna bathe with the psycho. Although what hit him first was the fact the he was going to be naked in front of a stranger in a moment. While he had his panic Chanyeol warmed up the water.

“Come on now, bath is ready.”

“Um…”

“Just you, I won’t be joining you this time. Come on.”

Chanyeol grabbed Sehun’s shirt starting to tug it off. Sehun pulled away, not wanting to be touched.

“I can clean myself up.”

“I’m not gonna leave you to do something silly like drown yourself. So strip.”

Sehun swallowed nervously, there was no winning in that situation but he still didn’t wanna get naked in front of the other. He really should have cause Chanyeol was quick to get frustrated. Although instead of trying to get Sehun’s clothes off again he merely threw the boy into the tub and kept him under for a while.

Sehun didn’t register what had happened until he found himself struggling to breathe. Chanyeol held him down with ease, the boy uselessly trying to push his way to the surface. It wasn’t until he could tell that Sehun was getting weaker did he let him up. Sehun quickly took in air and climbed out of the tub, curling up on the floor.

“So, are we going to nicely take a bath now?”

“Yes…”

Sehun sat up, taking off his soaked shirt and following with the rest until he stood naked before the other.

“Good boy.”

Chanyeol took his hand and got him into the tub, having him sit while he grabbed the essentials. Sehun was quiet, still shaking over his near death experience, while Chanyeol cleaned him up. The other seemed very happy to be taking care of him, as if he was some kind of pet.

“How’s school?”

“Hm?”

“I have your wallet remember, found your school ID. What are you studying?”

Sehun didn’t answer, it’s not that he was trying to be a nuisance but even he didn’t really know the answer. He should have lied, maybe it would have saved him from the unpleasant look he was getting. Before anything else happened he heard someone else call out Chanyeol’s name. Chanyeol sighed, but got up.

“I’ll be right back, stay.”

Chanyeol left the room. Sehun didn’t know how to feel. There was clearly someone else there. He didn’t know if they were just like him, a victim, or not, or if they even knew he was being held captive. He looked around for a towel and got out of the tub, he didn’t want to stay there. If there were other people around maybe he could get help.

He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom. He was surprised by the room he entered, clearly a bedroom, most likely Chanyeol’s and the bed was far to big for one person. He figured the person who kidnapped him was some lowlife, but then again the bathtub and room screamed money, and a lot of it. It made him more confused as to why a person who could clearly have anything would kidnap someone. If he dwelled on it longer he knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

He forced himself to focus on escaping and headed for the door when he noticed the phone on the nightstand. He scrambled for it but stopped when he held it, who would he even call. He didn’t really have friends, and anyone else he could call barely knew him, what would he say anyway. That he was kidnapped, they’d take it as a joke and hang up.

The police were also out of the question, he had no idea where he was, and there was also the chance they wouldn’t believe him and think it was some kind of prank. He was on his own, so he had to find a way out without help. When he put the phone down he felt a nice breeze hit him. He noticed the wall on the other side was covered by curtains, and clearly a window was open, perhaps a way out.

He thought that maybe he had been locked up in someone’s basement, that they had some nice house in some rich secluded neighborhood, he was very wrong. When he pulled back the curtain he could see a city skyline. He was in some building, and he was many stories above ground, windows were no longer an exit strategy.

“Nice view right?”

Sehun yelled when he felt another voice whisper in his ear. He turned around, Chanyeol inches from him, somehow having snuck up on the boy. He was pinned against the window, trying to make himself as small as possible.

“I thought I told you to stay put, care to explain?”

“I… I was…looking for some clothes.”

“Is that really the excuse you’re going to give?”

“Um…”

Chanyeol sighed and further pulled open the curtains. He flipped Sehun around so he could look out at the city. Sehun was nervous, his own reflection reminding him he was only wearing a towel.

“Do you like it? My city?”

Sehun tried to push the other off him to no avail, it merely got him pressed against the glass. Chanyeol gently stroked his cheek.

“You don’t look so pale anymore. You’re getting your strength back, that’s good.” Chanyeol noticed the marks on Sehun’s neck. “Huh, I guess I didn’t fix that.”

Sehun was practically holding his breathe, not sure what was going to happen next. He was in trouble, that was a given going by his situation.

“Who are you?”

“Chanyeol, I already gave you my name. And you can stop denying the obvious sweetheart.”

“What?”

“You know what.”

Chanyeol kissed the boys neck, looking into the boys eyes through the reflection, making sure he was watching before exposing his fangs and biting into his tender flesh. Sehun gasped when he saw Chanyeol’s sharp teeth, there was no denying it anymore. Before he could try to push the other away he felt that pleasure from before, unable to resist and giving in. He couldn’t help but watch his own reflection.

He clearly seemed happy even though he probably shouldn’t have been, it wasn’t his fault though. Despite the pleasure his mind was still trying to wrap around the fact that vampires were real and he was being imprisoned by one. Chanyeol pulled away, his lips bloody, and kissed Sehun’s cheek.

“Such a good boy aren’t we?”

Sehun couldn’t think, he couldn’t even register the words being whispered to him, he merely let out a whine when Chanyeol moved away.

“Patience, we can more fun when you get your strength back.”

Chanyeol let go of Sehun and let him fall to the floor, licking the blood off his lips while he stared out at the city.

“Probably shouldn’t have done that, but you have such a sweet taste.”

Sehun curled up on the floor, his head spinning. He was feeling sick, but really didn’t want to throw up the food he had. He laid on his back after a moment, the room spinning, his hand reached over to his neck, pulling away with blood on it. Chanyeol noticed his actions.

“Shouldn’t let that go to was-” Chanyeol chuckled. “Do you want help with that?”

Sehun had no idea what the other boy was talking about, that is until he felt a hand over his crotch, realizing he had a minor hard on. That seemed to perk him up, and he tried to move away but Chanyeol held his towel, if he tried to move he’d end up properly exposed.

“Please… let go…”

“Let go? Well you did say please and as much fun as it would be to play with you and have you make pretty noises, it’s not good for you right now, low blood and all that.”

Hearing that relieved Sehun, he didn’t want to be violated in that way. Chanyeol helped him up and sat him down on the bed, drying off his hair first, then helping him slip into a fresh shirt. It strangely fit well, but Sehun didn’t linger on that much. Chanyeol was nice enough to let Sehun finish dressing himself, handing him a glass of red liquid when he finished.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.”

“What is it?”

“Drink it or I’ll force it down your throat.”

Sehun took it and swallowed it as quickly as possible. It was warm and tasted pretty weird but he didn’t question it. The smell hit him moments after and he realized what he just had. He felt like throwing up but Chanyeol grabbed him, putting his hand over the boys mouth.

“If you throw up you’re going to ruin my floor, besides, you’ll get used to the taste, crave it in fact.”

He took some deep breaths, only being let go when he was calm. Chanyeol blindfolded him, and gagged him this time around. Sehun might have screamed for help if he could, but the other was two steps ahead of his escape plans. When he got his sight back he wasn’t surprised to find himself back in his little room.

“Get some sleep, and don’t throw up, I’ll know if you do. Besides, you don’t want to lose that food now do you?”

Chanyeol playfully patted his belly before kissing his forehead and leaving the room. Sehun laid back on his bed, his new reality finally settling in. His hopes of escaping were slipping away as he processed everything. He wasn’t happy where he was, but it’s not like he was any better off back at school. He whimpered, not sure of anything anymore, the only thing he did know was that he was tired and sleeping might help him figure something out.

#exo #sehun #chanyeol #oh sehun #park chanyeol #exo sc #exo vampire au #exo au #exo scenarios

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prettywordsyouleft · 5 years

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Poster Boy // AIRFORCE7

Summary: With the war approaching, the air force needed more men to join and prepare to protect the nation. Jackson readily signed up to help bring those numbers in, but he wasn’t prepared to lose you or who he stood for in the process.

Pairing: Jackson Wang x reader (ft. GOT7 in AIRFORCE7)

Genre: pilot au / 1940s era / angst / romance

Warnings: Due to the era it’s set in, this will contain minor war conflict in some of the stories. I will not be making the war-zone my main focus in this series however.

A/N: I have been so excited to write this story for Jackson as soon as I came up with the idea of this series. Both Jackson and BamBam’s ideas were the first I came up with and I’m so glad to finally be sharing this one with you all.

Word count: 4602

This series will continue every Thursday until completed at 10am NZST.

If there was anyone in the air force who knew how to put on a show, it was Jackson Wang. The young pilot was known for his antics up in the air, gathering crowds on the regular to watch whenever he was training. Sure, it was pretentious sometimes, but he loved putting on a performance. There was nothing better than the rush of propelling his Mustang up to the skies on a vertical loop and hanging upside down for as long as he could muster. The freedom of flight was exhilarating.

“Alright Wang, what you got?” a voice radioed through and Jackson grinned, holding the joystick loosely as he got ready to start his show for the day. He didn’t need to look down at the crowd forming on the tarmac now, he knew the spectacle he was about to put on was going to garner a lot of attention.

And he anticipated it completely.

“I’m going all out.”

“Just because Cap has invited some extra faces to the base this week, doesn’t mean the training drills need to be fancy.”

“Why Tuan, after playing chicken with all our new recruits, are you afraid of my skills showing you up, huh?”

The other pilot scoffed at the challenge. Jackson knew Mark would never back down from an event like this. The man was far too competitive. “The usual?”

“Let’s warm up with that,” Jackson agreed, pushing on the throttle as he tightened his grip on the joystick. He started to ascend to the clouds for his first vertical loop, laughing when he got the air he needed to hang the mighty machine upside down. Jackson knew every part to this plane of his, and it was effortless in how he navigated his way through the skies. After several loops and controlled rolls, he allowed his Mustang to fall down towards the base below at a rapid rate. He pulled up before he couldn’t, screaming out in exuberant joy.

He saw Mark’s own rendition of his tricks and smirked. “Is that all you got, Tuan?”

“Training is over, Wang. Put your wings on the ground.”

“You mean you’re not going to play a little more with me?”

“You can see the flags down below Jackson, we’re being called back in. Prepare for landing.”

“Can’t we just do one more thing?” Jackson asked and Mark sighed heavily. He knew that was his friend’s way of giving him the chance to suggest what he was thinking of. “You are the king of playing chicken after all.”

“You never play it fair.”

“There’s more fun in not knowing until we’re right on each other of what way we’re going to go,” Jackson remarked cheekily, setting himself up to face the other Mustang in the air. He ignored the radio through from the tower, his sights set on Mark speeding towards him. “Alright boy, let’s see how well we do today with Mark, huh?”

Jackson had dubbed his plane the Crazy Horse. It suited him well. At first, the machine was a little temperamental from any other plane he had flown before. Now as an ace pilot of the air force, Jackson felt as if his aircraft was an animal that he had to work in harmony with.

It was as if he was as close to riding a Pegasus as any human could get.

“What way are you going?”

“Not telling.”

“Jackson, let me know!” Mark called through as his plane came as close as it could. Jackson knew Mark was good at this trick. It was his favourite pastime with all the cadets, and even though Mark had scared far too many men into the toilets for the rest of the day after going up against him, Jackson knew better. Mark would always have a telltale sign of what way he was going to choose.

“Right!” he called at the last moment, his laughter still echoing in Mark’s ears after they landed their planes and did their final checks before getting out.

Jackson whined when his comrade came over and punched him in the shoulder. “You crazy bastard! Next time, more warning!”

“Crazy Horse handled it well,” Jackson mused, unbuttoning his jacket as he turned to face the crowd. It was the biggest he had seen in a while.

As was the thunderous look upon his Captain’s face. “Jackson Wang,” she called through gritted teeth as he casually came to a stop in front of her.

He smiled graciously. “Yes, Cap?”

“Orders are orders,” she mentioned and pointed at the flags. “Not everything is about showing off.”

“Yet son, you did such a good job of it,” an older official stated as he approached Jackson, chuckling to himself. “What a fine pilot you are.”

“Why thank you, sir, I aim to please!”

“Say, about that deal, I want to do it with this pilot here.”

Jackson glanced between his Captain and the official, unsure if he should be smiling or not. He waited for more information and looked over at his Lieutenant standing nearby. Jaebum merely shrugged.

“What deal?” he finally asked, watching the dark look on his Captain’s face contrast the official’s.

“He’s one of my best pilots and belongs on my mission taskforce team.”

“We need one of the best for this,” the man countered and then turned to Jackson, slapping a hand upon his shoulder. “How would you feel about being the face of the Air Force, son?”

Jackson glanced around and then grinned. “I feel that sounds pretty fine, sir.”

“You’re doing what?” you asked the man before you standing there grinning as he held his cap in his hands. Jackson watched as you stopped gathering your food from the rations laid out before you and turned to face him. “The face of the Air Force?”

Jackson nodded eagerly. “The base had some visitors today and one of them asked me after my training drill to take on the job. What do you think?”

“Well, what does it entail?” you asked, going back to getting your dinner onto your plate. Jackson huffed at your lack of attention on his offer, grabbing his own tray and mindlessly dumping food onto it. Once seated at a table together, he gave you a look. “What, how am I meant to be excited for you if I don’t know what being the face of something here would be? I work as a federal typist for the base Jackson. I don’t get the know-all of everything around here until it’s been decided and I have to type it up. So will you just spit it out?”

“He gets to be a poster boy, isn’t that it?” another voice joined the conversation and Jackson easily gloated in BamBam’s direction. His friend had been sour all afternoon and Jackson knew it was because BamBam would kill to have the role he now did. The difference was, whilst BamBam looked good beside a plane, he sure as hell didn’t have the skills to fly like Jackson did. He smirked and BamBam rolled his eyes.

“A poster boy?” you repeated and Jackson tore his attention away from BamBam’s distaste and back to you. “What are you promoting?”

“The war is coming and we need more men in the force. The official who came today said they need someone to represent the air force and make it more appealing to the young men of the nation.”

You nodded softly, still not smiling. Jackson was annoyed. As his girlfriend, he had expected you to be as excited as he was. He even had his chair back a little in anticipation that you would leap out of your chair and into his lap with admiration. After all, this offer was a pretty impressive one.

There could only be one poster boy and he was about to become it.

“Well, I guess it is a little exciting,” you admitted and he relaxed from his previous annoyance, nodding happily again. “It won’t interfere with your training though will it?”

“What training do I need? I can fly my plane with my eyes closed.”

“I’d rather not hear about that,” you said softly and then reached over to grab his hand. “Though I am happy for you. Obviously, they chose you for a good reason. So what do you have to do first?”

“A photo shoot,” he announced brightly, posing in his chair for you. BamBam groaned loudly as you giggled, shaking your head when Jackson claimed he’d have to work out to put the guns on show whilst flexing his arm.

“No one is going to want to see you act like this!”

And yet, that was exactly what was expected of Jackson the following week, standing in front of Crazy Horse who was sparkling in the afternoon sun. Jackson took photos in his full uniform, with his shirt off, and even in the cockpit of his plane. Finally, he sprawled out on the wing of his plane, holding up his signature pose much to the glee of the staff taking the photoshoot.

“That was a perfect pose! What do you call that?”

“Uh, just relax? It’s something I just do sometimes,” he admitted with a laugh and then hopped down off the wing, going over to the team. “So, did I do okay?”

“Okay?!” the man asked incredulously before nodding. “Son, do you dream as high as the clouds?”

“Uh…”

“Because your role now is as big as it can get.”

Jackson hadn’t been ready for some of the details. He had assumed he would take some photos for the officials and they would be blown up and posted up around the nation. Which, when he very first saw one of the posters in town when he was on a date with you, he couldn’t help but be proud of himself.

And nor could you. “That’s you.”

“That’s me.”

“That’s my boyfriend!” you repeated with conviction, holding his hand as you ran over to the poster. When you turned back to look at him, your eyes were full of admiration.

“Do you like it?” he asked and you nodded before flinging your arms around his neck, kissing him with demand in the middle of the street.

That, he could easily get used to.

But doing rallies, well, he wasn’t so sure about that.

“It’s just like how it was when you were playing up in the clouds that day,” the man who scouted him mentioned, slapping him on the shoulder playfully again. “Just take that plane of yours to the skies and show off a bit. Get the men excited.”

“But being in the air force is more than the shows I put on. Don’t you think this might fool the men?”

“Course not! It’ll make them inspired. Jackson Wang, you’re a fine pilot, as your Captain said, one of the best. You’re going to show us all that now by getting up in your plane after giving the speech you prepared.”

Jackson nodded weakly, swallowing down his nerves before heading up onto the small podium. The crowd was a mixed bag, some there because they were interested and others because they had been dragged along by the girlfriend at their side. There was even a small team of ladies cheering for him and he smiled politely down at them before saluting.

He barely made it through his speech before clambering into his plane, feeling his nerves settle once he grabbed a hold of the hand stick. He smiled. “Just you and me, huh? Let’s show them what a team we make.”

Jackson ran through some basic training drills, taking off and then gathering up speed, doing a couple of laps around the base. From there, he launched into his usual playful antics of loops and rolls, even attempting a spin before flying down close to the ground and whizzing by. He saw the crowd and they were on their feet cheering.

His confidence soared.

From one rally to the next, the show became more elaborate than the last. Soon, he was travelling around the country, performing at as many places as he could. Jackson never expected becoming the poster boy of the air force would be more exhausting than his daily life at the base had been. His team was loud and proud, representing his new label of wild and sexy. Pilots were the hottest dating trend, and just as the officials had anticipated, numbers of enlistments increased. Men wanted to appeal to the women, and being a pilot in the wake of the war brewing overseas meant everything in this nation now.

Jackson, however, was looking forward to going back home after the tour. He craved some peace and quiet, away from the glam, the crowds and the cheers. He just wanted nothing more than boring training drills, joking around with his friends and most importantly, you.

Yet, when he returned home, the welcome wagon wasn’t what he hoped for. “Would you look at who’s back home!”

“Who’s that? Oh, it’s Poster Boy!” another comrade shrilled, the sniggers of his friends surprising Jackson. He thought those at the base would be thrilled with how much work he had put in to promote the air force lately.

He smirked then, realising what it was. “Are you jealous, Jenson?”

“Me?” the soldier he referred to asked pointedly, laughing as he shook his head. “Now why would I be jealous of a joke like you, Wang? You’re nothing but a sham.”

“Watch it,” another person warned and Jackson smiled when his friend Youngjae appeared at his side. “He’s still a better pilot than you, Jenson.”

“A better pilot? Listen here, Choi. Wang is nothing more than a bedazzled poster boy! He gets a kick out of pledging his allegiance to the country and then leaping into that plane of his and doing his little performances. When the war comes, do you think the enemies are going to care for his little antics? They’ll laugh at how much time he’s wasted flying loops up in the damn sky.”

“That Crazy Horse of yours is nothing but a pathetic trick pony now,” another soldier stated and the group roared with laughter, moving away as Jackson lurched forward. Youngjae held him back as their jeers were heard all the way out of the bunkers.

Youngjae sighed heavily. “Well, at least you know what to expect.”

“Does everyone think that of me?” Jackson asked softly, and Youngjae avoided his steady gaze. Jackson grabbed onto the shoulder of his fellow task force member and chuckled too enthusiastically. “You don’t think that, right? I mean, you know me as well as the others in Airforce-Seven do, I’m capable of doing more than putting on a show.”

“Really? I don’t know what to think anymore. Whilst you’ve been off with the tour, we’ve been here dealing with planning raids. The world you’ve been living is so different from the one we have here.”

“Well I’m back now,” he assured and Youngjae smiled weakly. “I’m not the poster boy for no reason. I can handle it all.”

Everything was different though. Relations were strained between Jackson and his teammates. Even when they joked around, it wasn’t as carefree as it was before. And whilst none of the rest of AIRFORCE7 joined in with the endless insults that Jackson was growing used to hearing on a daily basis, he could see their opinions too had changed on him.

“I don’t know what to do about it all,” he explained to you as he sat on the sofa in your small home, and you brought over a tea for him to drink. “I’m no different than I was before.”

“Except your face is everywhere,” you mentioned quietly.

Jackson regarded you for a moment before grinning. “You love that though! You got so excited about-”

“The novelty has worn off.”

“I’m a novelty now?” he interjected and you shook your head. “Don’t you dare tell me you think lowly of me as well?!”

“No, I don’t think poorly of you, Jackson,” you told him and he smiled momentarily before hearing the rest of your sentence. “But I do think this promotion has been unrealistic. My friend over at the hospital mentioned how many more men come in from training accidents because they tried to fly planes like you do. What you put on is a show, it’s not reality.”

“So you see me as a performer now too!”

“Aren’t you? Isn’t that what you’ve been off doing all this time? Going from town to town, with your little sparkle cheerleaders making you look like some celebrity as you stand on a stage telling everyone to join the air force so they can look as good as you up in a plane? That’s not real life, Jackson.”

“I can’t believe you’re not supportive of me!”

You got up then, shaking as the argument overwhelmed you. “Not supportive?! I stayed here to work towards our future and let you parade around the country with God knows who throwing themselves at you and hoping that when you came home, you would be as sick of being the poster boy as I am of being the poster boy’s girl!”

“You’re sick of it?!”

You nodded adamantly. “It’s not just you who was faced with the judgments of others. Every time I defended you, I was put into the same category. When this war hits us, it’s not going to matter anymore what you can do in the skies if you can’t avoid being shot down. And being the face of it all, now you’ve got a big target on your head. I can’t help but worry that the future I’ve worked so hard towards might be taken away from me because of one too many spins up in the damn air!”

“Or maybe it’s because you don’t believe in me enough!” he retorted, getting up and putting distance between you both. “I’m a damn fine pilot, Y/N! And I am a damn fine man too. Pity you let your insecurities pull you away from me!”

“No, it wasn’t me who has pulled away, Jackson,” you said through your tears and if he wasn’t so angry right now, he would have rushed to your side to wipe them away. You took a shaky breath before breaking his heart further. “You’ve changed and I don’t know how to be with the man you are now.”

Jackson was determined to prove to everyone that just because he was the poster boy, it didn’t make him a joke that he was seen as by the soldiers on the base. He trained harder, and he studied the war tactics overseas when he could. His teammates had returned somewhat to how they had been with him and he felt his first sense of achievement with that.

Now, he just needed to get you back too.

But the commitments to his other job weighed down on him. The burden of being the poster boy was exhausting to divide his time up between the base and the flying for fun. He was running on low energy and every time he felt like he was making headway in his career as a pilot, he would have to go and do more promotions elsewhere. Some days, Jackson often thought of flying off instead of landing after his shows. He wanted to break free from being the Jackson Wang of the nation he was now. Maybe the men were right, Crazy Horse was nothing but his trick pony now, and he was losing interest in riding him around anymore.

“Where is everyone?” he asked the clerk in the office at the base, frowning when the usual meeting room for the elite team was empty. He checked the time on the wall and then cocked his head to the side. “Was training cancelled?”

The man behind the desk rubbed his neck awkwardly. “No, uh, it’s down in the other sector.”

“Why wasn’t I informed?” he asked briskly, his mood darkening. “I’m a member of this team too, am I not?!”

“I believe it’s because you have been away too long, sir. The plans-”

He didn’t wait to hear anything further from the clerk, storming through the building until he found the other meeting room they used to plan tactics in. The door was locked and he cursed loudly, kicking at it until it was finally unlocked and opened. He glared at his leader Jaebum, who was equally as annoyed.

“What the hell, Wang?!”

“That’s what I’d like to ask, Lieutenant!” he roared, stepping into the room. “I’m on this team too!”

“You haven’t been here,” another member, Park Jinyoung, pointed out directly, folding his arms over his chest. “We have some serious missions to undertake and need to focus on pulling them off accurately.”

“Are you suggesting I’m incapable of doing so, Jinyoung?!”

“Woah, no one is saying that,” Jaebum stated, his hands raised defensively. “Calm down.”

“I’m a member of this team,” Jackson repeated shakily before drawing out a chair and sitting down on it. “I can do this.”

He managed to understand the majority of the plan for their next mission, and after several hours with his members, the fight that had started off his time back on the base was long forgotten about. Jackson joked with Jinyoung on the way back to their bunkers and promised to meet him in the morning to start their preparations.

“Wang, you’ve been requested,” a fellow soldier mentioned as soon as he woke up and Jackson sat up, blearily looking at the official note held out towards him.

“Sir, I can’t today, I have orders elsewhere,” Jackson told the man who had called for him, saluting him and heading for the door.

“Son, when you became the poster boy of the nation, you made a commitment to promoting the air force. That became your priority. An order is an order and you’re needed today.”

“Sir, with all due respect, my commitment is to be a pilot first and foremost. The nation doesn’t need me to fly around and dance with ladies wearing glitter outfits. They need me up in the skies, protecting for what is threatening to come our way. Now, I’m needed on my team today and I will fly out with them.”

“Are you turning your back on your commitment here?” the official bellowed and Jackson nodded simply.

“Sir, I think it’s about time I return to where I belong, as a true pilot and not a spectacle anymore.”

He ignored the calls from the official, running over to the hangars where the others were preparing to take off. Only the Captain remained on the ground and she smiled. “I was worried you wouldn’t show.”

“No ma’am, I’m a member of this team.”

“That you are,” she agreed with a smile and patted him on the shoulder. “I made sure your plane would be ready to go. Hurry up and catch up to the others before they learn to be a team without their vital wing player.”

He grinned and dashed over to his plane, leaping up into the cockpit and after running through his takeoff checks quickly yet accurately, Jackson headed down the runway, taking to the skies just after Yugyeom’s plane.

“The Crazy Horse is back,” Yugyeom radioed through to everyone and Jackson sped passed him to his set place in the formation. He looked over at Jaebum flying next to him and nodded.

“It’s good to have you back where you belong, Wang.”

The mission was a success, as were the following four too. It was obvious there wasn’t much time left before the war ended up being their fight too and Jackson was focused on ensuring he was ready to battle if and when that time came.

He refused to work as anything but a member of the elite task force and soon, talk of him being the poster boy died off. Sure, there were always one or two mindless comments from others but he laughed them off, no longer giving the same reaction to the soldiers who wanted to see him fail. He decided he wasn’t ashamed of being the poster boy anymore. The pain he had felt from the dark side of being famous had shaped him into a better man now, one who understood what it was like to be the centre of attention. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t sought that out as a regular pilot anyway. And he wasn’t going to let go of that side of himself either.

He knew he was pretentious and crazy, but that’s what made him him.

Jackson didn’t feel like he was complete though, and as soon as he wasn’t stuck doing missions day in and out, he went into town to collect supplies before driving back to the base, this time heading into the federal building that was onsite instead.

Walking towards the office he knew you worked in, Jackson smiled at those he passed by, their gasps and whispers only fuelling him on. He realised by the time he reached your office that he could never not be one to put on a show – even if he was being genuine right now.

“Y/N,” he called when he arrived at your desk and you looked up from the typewriter you were working upon, your fingers ceasing on the keys when you saw the large bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Now, I thought about how to apologise long and hard. I wondered if you would accept something private and quiet, but that wasn’t much like me at all. Poster boy or not, I’ve always been like this, haven’t I?”

A small smile curled the corners of your lips up but you didn’t respond to him yet.

“I’ll have you know, being away from you every day when I was touring was miserable for me. What you saw and heard of me was from the spotlight, but baby, that was just all an act.”

“Jackson,” you murmured, aware of the eyes and ears upon your situation. Your face flushed with colour and you got up, pulling on his arm a little. “Let’s go elsewhere.”

“I’m not yet done with my apology,” he told you and you bit at your lip, failing to contain your grin.

“I know you’re not. I’m pretty sure you have a lot to say and will continue to say it here, or anywhere that I take you.” You placed your hands on your hips. “I don’t need it though. I don’t need your words or these flowers either even though they are beautiful.”

He grinned and placed them down on your desk, freeing up his arms for you. “What do you need instead?”

“I just need you. Are you capable of giving me that?”

Jackson took you in his arms, the cheers of your colleagues around you deafening you both as you buried into his chest, half out of embarrassment and the other because he knew you had missed being able to. He held you tightly, not wanting to let you go ever again.

“I’m sorry I let you down,” he told you softly and you shook your head, eyes glistening with emotions when you lifted your head back up. Jackson smiled and wiped your tears away tenderly. “About that future you spoke of last time. I hope the offer is still there to work towards it, though this time together.”

“I was hoping you would say that,” you admitted, kissing him passionately, uncaring of the performance you were putting on together.

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