#TOMORROW IS GOING TO BE A NERVE WREAKING TIME | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

okdeedee · 1 year

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here i am

cassian andor x gn! reader - 6th installment of latch

masterlist

a/n: alright besties here's another chapter. life day celebrations And other things aka gratuitous party ish scene + Angst + the power of friendship. IN WHICH;;;,,,, cassian andor plays the role of mr darcy for a bit. title from stuck in the middle with you by stealer's wheel because,,, clowns to the left of me. jokers to the right. here i am, stuck in the middle with you.

content? warning?: shara bey and kes dameron cameo x. the introduction of another oc who i Love. she's a 6 foot 9 or 2.05m tall devaronian menace. angst. swearing. ramping up that sexual tension but no smut Probably Ever because i just wont. drinking moderately in a social context, no drunkenness or alcoholism. kissing! amorous touches! this was written with almost exclusively rosalía's motomami album playing in the bg so just keep that in mind. jk.

wc: 10.2k HUH

It’s Life Day, and other than essential personnel, the base is off-duty.

Unless, of course, there is a catastrophe, but everyone has decided there won’t be. You all need a break.

You and some of the mech crew are deemed essential personnel, but just in the morning. There are some Y-Wings that need repair before a mission tomorrow.

You’re working on Shara’s ship – she’s become a fun friend to have around. You hold similar opinions on repairs and mods, and she’s interesting to talk to – always complaining about that soldier Kes, who keeps asking her out.

You know she likes him; she just wants to string him on a bit. The thought of it makes you laugh.

Only a few other mechs are scattered around.

One of them is Lakan, a middle-aged Besalisk who was an engineer before he joined the Rebellion. He helped a lot in your first couple months – he’s endlessly patient and deeply affectionate. It’s sort of like having a father again, and he greets you with his crushing four armed hugs every time you see him.

Another is a younger Togruta individual with vivid blue skin called Eyroa – they’re something of a prodigy, and the sort of being that seems to know what you need before you ask for it. They’re often handing you a different sized servodriver or a drill-bit with a shy smile.

The other mech present this morning is Greda, the Devaronian you have become good friends with. She’s ridiculously tall and covered in tattoos. Her skin is a deep green, her hair is blonde and short – you still haven’t worked up the nerve to ask if it’s natural or not – and she is a complete nuisance.

Greda likes to wear earplugs while she’s working; she says she gets her best work done when she isn’t distracted by other people. Your friendship started on your second day of work as a mechanic, when she approached you right as you were going on your lunch break. You weren’t sure who she was because she’d been holed up working on a Hammerhead Corvette so you hadn’t met her yet, but you were quickly very glad to know her.

Not here today are the following:

Your fellow humans: Yemmi, an older man who is a notorious flirt, Manala and Hasset, the twins who never stop talking, and Riekk, the Bith, who plays a beautiful new genre of music through his speaker every workday.

They’re good co-workers. They were welcoming when you arrived, and you’re fond of all of them.

Greda, however, is being a pain today.

She’s always a pest, but since it’s a holiday, she’s decided she’s going to wreak havoc upon your morning instead of actually getting work done, which is a first for her.

She picks strange hills to die on.

Right now, she’s sitting on top of Shara’s Y-Wing, kicking her feet, and ranting about something. You zoned out five minutes ago and now her deep, resonant voice is just a buzz in your ear.

You hold out a wrench to her so you can root through your toolbox with both hands, and she takes it without thinking, not pausing in her speech.

You find what you need, but you leave the wrench in her hand. If she’s not going to work, she can at least be useful as a tool stand.

A few minutes later, she stops talking and looks at the wrench in her hand.

“Did you give me this?”

“Yeah, like five minutes ago.”

“I’ll drop it on you.”

You laugh. “I thought you were anti-violence. That’s why you’re a mechanic.”

She huffs and jumps off the Y-Wing. “You’re not being fun today.”

You grunt as you pull a panel of the engine off. “I’m more fun when I’m not being interrupted during work.”

She raises her hands in surrender. “Apologies, my liege.”

You swat her with a rag you had in your pocket. “Enough from you,” you reprimand.

Greda starts to walk away, whistling some annoying little song.

“I’ll see you at the bonfire tonight, though, right?”

“Yeah! See you then!”

She disappears into the hull of a G-75, then there is blessed silence, because Lakan works without music.

You find yourself thinking about Cassian, wondering what he’s doing with his day off.

He visits you in the hangars often, just to say hi, or to keep you company for a bit. You feel honoured to receive his individual attention. You’re flustered by it, too.

No matter how hard you try, you can’t quite get used to the intensity in his eyes when he’s focussed on you. You find yourself looking at his lips, or the line of his jaw, or the sweeping length of his eyelashes more often than not these days.

Flustered or not, you cherish those visits – like the one several months ago where you talked about Onderon, and you kissed each other’s hands. It still brings heat to your face and a thrill through your body just to think about it.

Or the one last week where Cassian told you about his childhood and his family.

The hardest are the weeks when Cassian can’t visit at all because he’s on a long mission.

He’s one of the best operatives the Rebellion has. He’s ruthless, efficient, and observant. He’s killed people just to be able to get back home.

You know how good he is at this work, but you’re still terrified that each time he visits will be the last.

A dozen times, he’s come back bruised and battered, and you hold him extra-gently and extra-long in your arms.

Once, he was rushed to the med centre for carbon dioxide poisoning. You stayed by his bedside for a full 18 hours.

You love him wholeheartedly. He’s your best friend. You’re not sure what that means in the long run, but for now it means he has to come back alive from all of his missions, so you get more time to figure it out.

And maybe one day, tell him.

Cassian actually has things to do on this day off. Leisurely things.

He and Melshi are going to sit down and have caf and talk, of all things. They’re both off today, and he hasn’t really spoken to Melshi in a couple months because of conflicting schedules, so that will be nice, he thinks.

A year ago, he probably would have baulked at the idea – Melshi is a friend he made out of necessity; a brother-in-arms – not that he doesn’t like him or enjoy spending time with him.

It’s just that they became friends by escaping a slave-labour prison and establishing trust by clinging on a cliffside together for hours, not by discussing their mutual interests.

He used to do it all the time on Ferrix. He’d walk to Brasso’s work just to catch him before he went home, he’d hang out with Bix, deliver something from Maarva to Jezzi, shoot the shit with Xanwan while he was waiting for a transport.

The rebel base on Yavin 4 doesn’t quite have that same homely feeling yet.

Now, he’s warmed again to the idea of talking, visiting people just to see them, thanks to his constant need to see you.

It’s ridiculous how often he finds time to visit the hangar. The first few times, he pretended it was because he had something else to do and he just happened to run into you, but he can’t be bothered to lie anymore.

You always greet him with a smile and touch his arm with your hand, or if he’s coming back after a mission, you’ll hug him.

What you don’t know is that Cassian comes to the hangar most days he’s on base, but he’ll only talk to you if you’re alone.

Often, you’re talking to Shara Bey about her Y-Wing (or about that ground soldier, Kes, that keeps hitting on her), or chatting across the hangar to one of the other mechanics. Sometimes, you just look like you’re concentrating really hard, and he doesn’t want to disturb you.

He gets embarrassed for some reason and walks away with a little ache in his chest.

Cassian is still bewildered by how obviously overjoyed you are to see him every time he visits. He’s not sure what he did to deserve the smiles you send his way – you smile with your whole being. It’s like being a plant in the sun; like he needs it to get through the day.

He’s pretty sure he’s in love with you.

He doesn’t expect to ever tell you, doesn’t entertain thoughts of crossing the physical boundaries the two of you have. He only dreams of you once every month or so, and that’s out of his control.

He’d rather never tell you he loves you that way than chance losing your companionship. If he made you uncomfortable and you drifted apart, he’d be so shattered that he’d probably become more reckless than usual with his work.

If he dies on a mission one of these days, he doesn’t think he’ll regret that decision.

The rebellion always comes first, now.

It’s evening, and Life Day festivities are starting.

Some of the more artistically inclined members of the Rebellion have decorated a sizeable part of the runway outside the temple.

There are random different sizes and kinds of lamps hanging on wires that are precariously strung between generators and trees, scraps of spare fabric (mostly orange, likely from pilots’ jumpsuits), and a massive bonfire being constructed in the centre of the clearing.

There are a few fold-out tables laden with portions of vastly contrasting foods in mismatched containers or piled on mess-hall trays.

For the last couple of weeks, a lot of the rebels who went off-world for missions or recon made pit-stops to pick up different ingredients for cultural delicacies they wanted to make for Life Day.

You smile to see a couple dishes your pilot friends mentioned in passing on the table.

There’s jaunty music playing at an agreeable volume through the runway PA system.

You watch over the next half an hour as more of your comrades fill the space, bringing food or musical instruments, some not in uniform, all relaxed and happy.

The bonfire is lit, during which there’s a song sung by some of the rebels in a language you don’t recognise, but you don’t mind – you feel a part of it regardless.

You’re basking in the joy and freedom of this night until someone practically tackles you from behind and you stumble.

“Hey, babycakes,” Greda says, a little too loud right next to your ear.

You grunt trying to bear her weight. You shove her off, laughing. “Babycakes?”

“Just trying something new,” she says breezily, “you like it?”

You shake your head, but get distracted by watching everyone mingle, unable to keep the smile off your face.

The two of you stand there, soaking it in, until Greda gets fidgety.

She hums that annoying song from this morning and circles you like a loth-wolf, looking around at everything, until she stops and pokes your shoulder over, and over, and over again.

“Greda, what the hell are you doing?”

“Who’s the little grumpy dude watching you from the corner?”

Your head whips around. “Where?”

She points to a dark corner of the runway, right near a path into the forest. You follow her hand and at the end of it is Cassian Andor. He glances away as soon as you clock him.

Shit.

You yank her hand down and give her your fiercest glare.

“Stars and planets, Greda, are you allergic to discretion?”

She grins. “Oh, calm down. Who is it? So tiny and angry.”

You huff. “Everyone’s tiny to you, you’re almost seven feet tall.”

“Still.”

You turn her away from him and watch him over her shoulder. You feel flustered, all of a sudden. “That’s Cassian. He’s – uh – we –”

“So, you’re on a first name basis with the Captain Andor? Interesting.”

You frown, and Greda has a mischievous glint in her eye, and you’re realising this is probably a set up.

“You just implied you didn’t know who he was.”

“That’s on you. Everyone knows who he is. I was just trying to figure out if you knew him.”

You shove her with your hip. “Asshole. Why do you care?”

Greda grabs your hands and swings them between you like you’re dancing.

“Because,” she says in a sing-song voice, “you’re so mysterious, and I can’t tell if you have any friends. I wanted to know if you knew him because he was looking at you like he wanted to take all your clothes off.”

“I have plenty of friends – and I’ve known you for months now, I would have thought you count,” you say, taking control and swinging her arms more violently.

“You didn’t deny that he looked like he wanted to take your clothes off,”

“I wasn’t planning on dignifying that with a response, you perv. And how did you not notice Cassian and I were friends? He visits the hangars like twice a week.”

“I don’t know, I’m busy. I don’t really pay attention to other people,”

You scoff. “Next time you accuse me of being mysterious, get your head out of your narcissistic ass first.”

She makes an exaggerated sad face. “You’re not nearly drunk enough for me to lead this conversation where I want it to go.”

“I’m stone-cold sober, Greda.”

“Exactly.”

Then Lakan and Yemmi join you, so that conversation trails off.

You haven’t had easy, relaxed fun like this in a long time, so despite her threat, when Greda offers you your first drink of the night (with no repayment in order), you take it.

You dance with all of the mech crew in a big, messy circle, copying each other’s moves and tripping over yourselves. Manala and Hasset try to teach you a dance they made up as children, but it’s really quite intricate. The two women can’t stop laughing at you.

Later, when you get a rush of self-confidence, you leave your crew and go chat to Bassa who’s standing by the fire. She’s gruff, as always, and pretends she’s not happy to see you.

You know she is – you can tell by the extra crinkles around her eyes that she’s doing her version of smiling.

She tells you about a couple of her recent missions, and retires pretty early, bemoaning old age.

Greda offers you a second drink maybe an hour later. You accept.

By about 2100, you’re relaxed, just a little bit buzzed, but you still have top-notch fine motor control.

You’re sitting with Greda, cross-legged on the ground. For all her tomfoolery, you trust her.

She just has a cheeky streak half the galaxy wide.

You find yourself thinking that if she were to ask you about Cassian, you might tell her the truth. You’ve never told anyone about him – your friendship, your feelings.

You haven’t had enough to drink for that thought to be the alcohol talking, so you’re pretty sure you actually want to tell her.

At that moment, Cassian walks by. You say “Hey,” too quietly and reprimand yourself internally, but he hears you and turns his head.

“Hey,” he responds, a little more rigidly than usual.

Silence.

You smile awkwardly and look between him and Greda.

“This is Greda. She’s part of mech crew. Greda, Cassian. Cassian, Greda.”

Cassian acknowledges her with a nod. She grins, nods back.

“What are you drinking?” He asks.

You open your mouth to speak, but Greda interrupts, “Corellian Rum and some kind of soda I nicked. I needed our Wompy to relax a little. You know how it is. It’s been a difficult few months.”

You gape at her incredulously.

“How have I not been relaxed? And more importantly, how do you know about that fucking nickname?”

Cassian smiles, just barely. His dimple is just visible from this angle. Your face gets warmer.

“A little birdie told me.”

You groan. “Bassa?”

“Indeed. A few months ago. I was just keeping it for the right moment.”

You cover your face with your hands.

There’s a pause. You see Cassian’s feet shift through a gap in your fingers, and you hear him sigh.

Your heart sinks just a touch – he’s probably not interested in this conversation, and he’s not super sociable so he won’t sit down and talk to you and Greda.

“Sorry, Cass, you were going somewhere. I interrupted.”

“No, it’s okay – I’m just… I was just leaving.” He shoves his hands in his pockets.

“Ah. Well. Have a good night,” you try.

He nods. “Thank you. You too.”

With that, he walks away.

You sigh out deeply.

Greda starts cackling. “What in the seven hells was that?”

You punch her shoulder. “Shut up, shut up, shut up,” you mumble under her laughter.

“No, really. What just happened? You call him Cass? Cute. But I thought you were friends? That was so awkward. And he just stood there staring at you.”

You tilt your head back and look at the stars, trying to find something to get you out of this.

You find nothing, except your mind’s eye replaying the image of Cassian smiling in the firelight.

“I think he’s the love of my life,” you say before you can think.

Greda stops laughing abruptly.

“Oh, my gods.”

She turns to you and her face is serious. You stare back blankly, “What?”

Greda starts ranting in her mother tongue - by the tone of her voice, you think she’s swearing.

She finishes her tirade in Basic:

“Really? Andor? He’s so cranky and you’re so… likeable.”

Something blooms in your chest at the confirmation that Greda, who likes just about no one, likes you. You smile at the ground.

“Why?”

Your mind floods with a ridiculously detailed montage of interactions with Cassian over the last year and you can’t help the beaming smile that appears on your face.

Greda groans in disgust.

“Shut up. Cassian’s been there for me ever since I joined the Rebellion. He’s… intelligent. He’s very good at what he does. He’s easy to talk to.”

“You sound like you’re recommending him for a job.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “You are not making this easy. I can end this conversation whenever I want.”

She has the decency to look a bit sheepish. “Sorry.”

“We trust each other. He’s got a very gentle heart underneath it all. And… he’s – he’s very-”

“What?”

Your whole body feels warm. “I like his face.”

She snickers. “He is pretty. In sort of a depressed, haunted loth-cat way.”

“I can’t stand you.”

You shove your foot into her shin, but it doesn’t hurt her. All it does is throw you off balance, and you topple backwards and end up flat on the ground.

Her giggling turns into fully fledged booming laughter.

“You are such a child,” you reprimand through your own giggles.

Greda doubles over and slaps your leg repeatedly, laughing so hard she’s silently shaking.

Fucking Devaronians.

Cassian comes to see you in the upper hangar two nights later and thank the stars, you’re alone.

He’s pretty sure you’re working on Shara’s astromech, an R5 unit.

There are droids that do that sort of work so you don’t really have to, but he remembers you saying you were happy to help and you needed the practice, and Shara was happy to lend a her droid to you.

The speaker next to you is playing soft music, and you’re sitting cross legged on the floor in the lamplight.

Cassian can hear you talking the astromech gently through what you’re doing – it’s powered down, so talking to it is completely redundant, but he’s endeared by your kindness.

He doesn’t want to ruin your peace, but he needs to ask you something.

He’s about to greet you when you turn to get something and see him approaching.

You give him a tired smile and his heart races.

“Hey, Cass,” you say. You reach out your hand up him and he instinctively takes it. You give his hand a squeeze and sigh contently.

“Hi,” he says, trying to keep his voice soft.

“What brings you here? It’s so late,”

He takes a fortifying breath and says what he came here to say.

“Would you do me a massive favour?” He asks.

You nod immediately. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“I just – I need a mech, for an operation next week, and they said to pick anyone I wanted, and I want you,” his face flushes, “I mean - I wanted to ask you. I know you don’t like active combat. You’re not gonna be in danger.”

Wariness takes over your face. A mission?

“Tell me more.”

The plan is to land near a city on Numidian Prime. Cassian will go into the city undercover, into one of its many gambling hubs, and try to gamble information from someone who knows someone who’s supposed to know the whereabouts of a Rebel informant who’s recently gone missing.

This informant is vital to the function of the Rebellion, it seems.

The mission is somewhat complicated for Cassian, but your role in it isn’t too stressful. The Rebel Alliance has an old U-Wing model that, with a little paint job, can pass as the sort of vintage ship a rich gambler might own instead of an Alliance ship – the latter of which could cause a lot of problems. The only shortcoming is that because of its age, it can really only survive one trip into hyperspace before repairs have to be made.

Which is where you come in.

As soon as Cassian leaves the ship, you need to get to work on repairing it, replacing any parts necessary (which might require a trip into town yourself) and making sure it’s ready to fly back to Yavin 4.

Despite the importance of the operation, it isn’t particularly intense. No one bats an eye at another souped-up looking ship on a planet filled with smugglers and gamblers in hiding, and Numidian Prime doesn’t have a government or law-enforcement agency that might enforce a parking fine or impoundment – or even check the details of ships that land there.

Cassian looks like he’s worried you’ll say no.

The thought did cross your mind, but you’d much rather be with Cassian on a mission in a non-combat capacity than stay on Yavin 4 and hope he’s alright.

Your only qualm with the whole situation is really his choice of mech.

“Why me?”

That seems to be the last thing he was expecting you to say. “What do you mean?”

You shrug. “Lakan has years more experience than me, Eyroa’s practically psychic when it comes to ship diagnostics. Riekk is much more efficient than the rest of us.”

There Cassian goes again, with his earnest face. He strokes your hand with his thumb.

“Because I trust you.”

You chew on your lip.

“Okay.”

There are a couple meetings over the next three days. You, Greda and Eyroa spend your spare moments detailing the old U-Wing, painting and buffing so it attracts normal, ship-enthusiast attention on Numidian Prime.

It’s interesting being part of mission briefs again, after a year and a bit off. You listen raptly and are incredibly thankful you don’t have to do what Cassian does.

His alias is a man called Dimik Kayo – a man who frequents the casinos of Canto Bight but is looking for more high-stakes and tucked away places to make money. Thus, Numidian Prime.

They gave him some clothes to wear during the mission, and he won’t show you, but he doesn’t seem pleased. You’re sort of morbidly excited to see how bad the outfit is.

The day comes, you get in the U-Wing with as many tools and parts as your mech team can spare and get on your way.

The flight is relatively short, only a day and a half. Cassian spends a fair amount of it sleeping; he’s just off the back of a last-minute mission and hasn’t slept for a couple days. You amuse yourself by watching him or going through the Mechanic’s Manual for the U-Wing.

As expected, the landing on Numidian Prime is easy. You’re a couple kliks out from the main city in a clearing, surrounded by trees. No one comms in and asks for identification – one of the perks of dodgy planets.

Cassian’s getting changed. You wait in the copilot’s seat, your back to him. You’re completely silent - you feel anxious about the mission and just nervous in general.

Then you hear the click of dress shoes walking towards you.

“This is as good as it’s gonna get.”

You turn around, and as soon as you set eyes on Cassian, you’re filled with an all-encompassing want.

You’ve always thought of Cassian as attractive. He’s a beautiful man and a good person, and those big brown eyes of his definitely don’t hurt.

But the difference between this moment and every other time you’ve interacted with Cassian is that - it’s just -

It turns out that Cassian Andor is hot.

He’s tried to comb his hair back, but it’s still pretty messy. His facial hair is grown out at the moment, but he’s just trimmed it, so his cheekbones and jaw look extra sharp.

And the clothes he’s wearing. A muted, dark blue suit jacket with a high rounded collar, with the top two out of six buttons undone. You can see the entirety of his clavicle and some of his chest. The sleeves are tight, and they make him look particularly built.

The same with the legs of his trousers. They’re snug around his thighs, and you have to tear your eyes away. You can hear your pulse in your ears.

‘As good as it’s going to get’ is … very good.

Stars, he’s so hot your tongue feels numb.

He’s talking, but there might as well be static in your ears.

His hands.

There are rings on his fingers.

Half of your mind is taken up by a montage of all the places you want his hands to touch you, the other half sounding the alarm that it is not ideal to desire your best friend carnally, it will lead to a wealth of problems.

He takes a step closer, and you can smell him, the cologne he just put on, and if you weren’t already sitting your knees would give out from under you -

“Are you listening?”

You snap your mouth closed. “Hm?”

“I’ll call you ‘Wompy’ just to annoy you into paying attention.”

You’re sort of thinking he can call you anything he wants when he looks like that, but instead you say, “I’ll kick you in the shins if you do,” uncharacteristically combatively.

He frowns, a little concerned.

You curse internally; you’ve been thrown off your rhythm.

“Sorry,” you wave a hand in the air vaguely, “lost in thought. What were you saying?”

You’re acting weird.

You’re fidgeting in a way Cassian hasn’t seen from you since that first time you spoke in the forest of Yavin 4 after Nar Shaddaa. The last few things you’ve said have gone just a touch past your usual level of banter into defensiveness.

While he was talking through the order of operations, it seemed like you were zoning out.

Cassian’s attaching his comm to his inside jacket pocket, tucking a blaster in his boot, watching you in his peripheral vision. You look deep in thought, one of your legs bouncing up and down.

Nervous?

He turns slightly towards you, debating on whether to talk to you or not.

You glance up like you feel his eyes on you. He watches your eyes scan his body from head to toe, and he feels his face heat up.

He feels ridiculous in this getup, it’s a lot less coverage than he’s accustomed to wearing when he’s working, and it’s like half of his torso is on display.

Cassian was already feeling unsettled, and now you’re acting strange, and he needs to sort this out, otherwise he’ll just be worried about you for the whole mission.

He runs a hand through his hair (freshly gelled, which feels slimy and disgusting) as he makes his way over to you. Then there’s residue on his hand and he can’t wipe it off on his trousers, so he just stares at his hand, standing in front of you.

Force, what is going on today?

“You want a cloth for that?” You ask, cutting through his mile-a-minute thoughts.

He nods. “Please.”

So you stand up to get a cloth without factoring in his proximity to you, and suddenly you are almost chest to chest. You put your arms out in front of you to brace yourself and they land on each side of the deep V of his suit jacket.

He’s warm. You stare at his neck for a second to gather your wits, which doesn’t work very well because his neck is just as nice as his…everything else.

Then you look up, and he’s already gazing intently at your face.

He’s very close. And his eyes are so beautiful.

You have the compulsion to chew on your lip out of pure stress, but what if that’s weird and Cassian notices, so you just purse your lips in to stop yourself from doing anything stupid with them.

Cassian immediately looks at your lips and you feel your entire body go stiff.

He frowns, and the hand that isn’t covered in hair gel comes up and squeezes your upper arm.

“Is everything alright?” He asks softly. You can feel his breath on your face.

You let out the most stupid, timid “yep” of your life and you want the ground below you to cave in.

He searches your face. “Come on. Tell me.”

You let out a sharp sigh. You have no idea how to get out of this.

His hand moves from your shoulder to the side of your neck, and it practically sends sparks through your entire body. “Are you nervous?”

Silence.

Cassian starts to stroke your cheek with his thumb without thinking. He just wants that eopie-in-the-headlights expression on your face to fall away. “This is an easy mission. Plus, I’ll have you in my ear the whole time. You don’t need to be nervous-”

“Maker, Cassian, don’t do that!” You push him away, and that comforting warmth of your hands on his chest disappears.

He’s scrambling, trying to figure out if he overstepped - he doesn’t think he did, he’s touched your face before.

You rub your hands over your face vigorously. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

Something in his chest aches to see you out of sorts like this. You laugh a little bitterly, which confuses him even more. Then you look at him and take a deep breath.

“I am nervous. Not about the mission. It’s fine. I’m sorry I’m being so weird. Don’t worry.”

“What are you nervous about?”

You look flustered, and you indicate to him with a vague wave of your arm.

“Me?”

You cringe. “Yes.”

His mind is racing. “Did I do something wrong?”

You can see Cassian is panicking that he’s made you uncomfortable, and you shouldn’t have said anything, but he needs to know he hasn’t done anything wrong, so you say:

“You -” you gesture uselessly, “you look… You look really good and I’m…just sort of…”

Realisation dawns on Cassian’s face, but he’s still and silent.

You can’t stop yourself now that you’ve started. “Like, stars, Cassian, do you think they made your sleeves tight enough? And those stupid rings? And they really picked the right colour for the suit, didn’t they?”

Cassian’s got a tiny, incredulous smile on his face as he looks at you. His eyes are bright.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say in an embarrassingly weak voice.

That smile turns into one of those stupid little smirks he does.

There is a long pause, where you’re just looking at each other.

“You really like this outfit?” He asks.

You groan and cover your face with your hands, muttering a muffled “I hate you.”

Outside, he looks calm enough. Inside, his heart is racing, his body feels too hot, and he thinks he’s going to lose his balance.

You, the most gorgeous, radiant person he has ever seen, are flustered by him in formal wear. You think he’s attractive, so much so that you’re stumbling over your words.

He can’t help but laugh for the pure elation the idea brings him.

You cringe and peek at him through your fingers. “Don’t laugh!”

He schools his face. “I’m not-” You glare at him. “I am, I’m just. I’m not laughing at you.”

You roll your eyes, set your jaw. There is a tiny hint of a smile on your face. “I’m getting you a cloth for your stupid hand.”

He watches you walk away, eyes the lines of your body, the movement of your hips. It’s not the first time he’s done it, not by a long shot.

You return with the cloth and hold it out to him, arm completely outstretched for maximum distance between the two of you.

He takes your hand anyway and pulls you toward him, which makes you gasp. Cassian desperately wishes he didn’t have a mission to do right now.

You shove the rag into the centre of his chest and yank your hand out of his grip.

“Go be good looking somewhere else.”

Cassian feels like he’s about to jump out of his skin.

Neither of you move.

Cassian wipes the gel off his hand and tosses the rag on the floor.

You lean closer in.

Stars above.

He knows physical intimacy. He’s plenty experienced, but his hands are shaking anyway, because it’s you.

Instinctively, Cassian reaches out, wraps an arm around your waist, pulls you against him.

“Cass,” you warn, but you’re sliding your palms up the front of his suit jacket anyway. Cassian shudders and reaches his hand up to the side of your face. You press your cheek against his hand, and the movement exposes the wide expanse of the other side of your neck.

He can’t hold back, not anymore, so he leans in and kisses you in that soft space just above your collarbone, once, before he can even think about it. You gasp softly, and one of your hands moves up to the back of his neck.

He knows this is a good sign, so he kisses you again, a little higher. You make a gentle, breathy sound in the back of your throat that makes his heart trip. Another kiss, lingering, a little higher. You tilt your head further back for ease of access, and his hands squeeze involuntarily on your waist. He feels like it’s his first time kissing someone.

This time, when his lips meet your neck, he sucks on your skin for a second or two.

Your mind is ridiculously hazy, overwhelmed entirely by the situation, but when he sucks on your neck you have a moment of clarity.

The mission.

“Cassian Andor, don’t you dare start something you don’t have the time to finish.”

It comes out much more breathily than you would have planned - in your head you were more authoritative, but his beard feels so lovely against your skin and you can’t quite breathe.

Cassian just shushes you, the bastard, and kisses along your jaw, getting closer to your lips. He pulls away, about to kiss you again, but you grab his chin and make him look you in the eyes.

He looks flushed, his eyelids are half closed, and he’s breathing heavily.

Whatever you were about to say goes into hyperspace and exits your mind. You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to come up with something to say.

There’s a lazy smile on his face, like it’s fun for him to watch you struggle. You grip his chin a little harder and he laughs, breathy and low.

“Cass-”

“I know,” he murmurs, drawing back. He doesn’t move his gaze from your lips, though.

You pull his bottom lip down gently with your thumb. He makes a little pleading sound, which is probably the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

You let his lip go. “Kiss me again after the mission, gorgeous.”

His jaw drops and you laugh deliriously in shock at yourself.

“Sorry. It slipped out,” you push him away and he takes a couple of wobbly steps backward.

“Off you go.”

“You can’t just call me that and then tell me to leave,” he appeals.

You’re still laughing. You cover your mouth with your hand. “The sooner you go, the sooner you can come back.”

He stares you down affectionately with those ridiculously intense eyes of his, and it’s hard not to cave in and fall back into his arms.

He shakes his head at you minutely and he’s trying not to smile.

You’re still grappling with the events of the last five minutes, but you’re so elated it’s hard to focus.

“Stop loitering,” you tease.

He scoffs good-naturedly and walks backwards in the direction of the shuttle ramp. His gaze meanders up and down your body, which makes you feel like you’re on fire.

Flirting. That’s new.

“I’ll be talking in your ear for the entire mission. You won’t even have time to miss me.”

He meets your eyes. “I wouldn’t be so sure, angel.”

You freeze, bewildered by his chosen term of endearment. Cassian’s rendered you speechless and he knows it, so he grins. A mischievous, joyful smile that makes your knees weak.

He turns and walks down the ramp. Then he’s out of sight.

Angel.

The speaker crackles to life in the cockpit, and it’s just Cassian laughing over the comm. You're somewhat embarrassed, but you feel like you’re about to take flight or something. His laugh.

“And you had the audacity to complain about me calling you gorgeous. What the fuck, Cass.”

He’s still laughing as you pull out your toolboxes.

You both focus entirely on the mission, after that. You're both good at compartmentalising.

Cassian plays the role of a sleazy, womanizing gambler, and you hurriedly repair the ship.

Several hours later, the comm crackles on again.

“Success?” You ask.

“Yeah. Coming back now.”

“Alright. I’m just replacing a floor panel, otherwise, I’m done.’

He makes a satisfied “hm.”

You grumble into the comm as you replace the floor panels of the shuttle, “That was fast on your end, though. You should dress up as a money hungry man-whore more often.”

“Hey,” he reprimands.

“What was this character’s name again?” You ask as you search your toolbox for a wrench.

“Dimik. Kayo.”

“Yikes,” you grunt as you put your bodyweight into tightening a bolt.

“What’s wrong with ‘Dimik’?” Cassian asks.

��Oh, you know…”

It dawns on you while you’re talking with Cassian that this is all brand new. The comfortable, easy friendship you’ve developed has changed irreversibly, regardless of how things go when he gets back to the ship.

You trust Cassian. That’s the easy part.

But romantic relationships are not particularly familiar to you, and you’re in the middle of a war, and the what ifs start piling up. You’re not sure you really want the newness when everything around you is already changing all the time.

Cassian notices you trail off mid-sentence. He figures you need to concentrate fully on your work for a second.

But after a minute or so of silence, he checks in.

“Hey, are you okay?”

A pause.

“I’m gonna ask you something, and you have to answer me honestly,” you start softly.

His heart thuds like a death knell in his chest. You sound solemn.

“I would never lie to you.”

“Are we going to be alright? After…” everything that just happened.

Cassian’s steps almost falter. “We are,” he says.

Do you regret it? Do you want it to be a one-time thing? You said he could kiss you again when he gets back, but was that a joke? Heat of the moment?

He realises that the idea of not getting to kiss or hold you again is a source of stress, which throws him into a panic.

He’s not ready for this. You’re his best friend. Knowing you is easy, and integral to his life. Kissing you was easy – he enjoys it, he’s good at it. And he… likes you.

But those two components together are –

They’re daunting. He’s never wanted to give all of himself to a person before. He never felt he had much to give.

Your voice is timid as you say, “I can’t lose you. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“You won’t. I - you won’t lose me.”

You hum, deep in thought.

Cassian is still making his way to the shuttle. He waits for you to speak.

“Okay,” you start, voice uneven.

His heart just about melts. “Yeah?”

“I - care about you a lot, okay, and I’m not sure I’m good at relationships. Romance.” You sigh.

He wants to run back to the shuttle and wrap you tightly in his arms, but he thinks if he saw the look in your eyes right now, he wouldn’t know what to do, so he keeps walking at the same pace.

“This was so much more coherent in my head. I just want - I don’t want this to be weird. I don’t - I don’t want anything to change. Between us.”

Cassian tries to stay calm, but his heart is sinking. So you do regret it?

He asks in a very neutral voice, “As in, you don’t want to be more than friends?”

“Shit, no - sorry - stars, I’m doing a terrible job of this,” you mutter, “let me start again.”

Cassian takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

You curse quietly.

“Okay. I love you, Cass. And I want you. Every part of you in any way I can get. But I’m not so familiar with dating or partnership and I really don’t want to fuck it up. Would we just be the same we’ve been but with … new physical aspects? Or is there something else I’ll need to be? I’m bad at flirting, I think I just turn mean. I don’t know how to be…sexy, or attractive, I don’t know. I think I’m scared that that’s what I need to bring to a relationship, and I won’t be able to, and you’ll leave eventually, and I will have lost my best friend. So.”

It’s like he’s floating in antigrav. Or like he’s high off some top-quality spice. “You love me.”

You sigh gently but exasperatedly, “Yes, of course I do. Did you hear everything else I said, though?”

Whoops. “Yes. I-” The shuttle comes into view. Shit. “- I did. I heard you.”

“You don’t have to respond right now. If you need time to think.” You’re making a valiant effort to accommodate him, but your voice is wobbly.

The thing is, at the heart of all his worry, Cassian knows this:

No one’s ever been as kind to him as you. No one’s ever been so considerate. No one’s as steadfast, as non-judgemental. He has never trusted a person like he trusts you.

He knows he doesn’t deserve you. It’s selfish, but that won’t stop him from holding onto you until his dying breath. He decides in that moment that he wants to do whatever it takes to keep you by his side.

He reaches the hangar the ship is docked in.

“I don’t need time to think.”

He hears you take a shallow breath. “Okay.”

You’re waiting for Cassian to speak when you hear footsteps up the ramp. You whirl around, about to grab something from your toolbox as a weapon, when you realise it’s Cassian, which in this very moment is scarier than if it was a random attacker.

You stand stock still. He takes his comm out and puts it in his pocket.

Your pulse is racing, and you can hear your blood in your ears.

The two of you stand there a metre and a bit apart for what feels like a little eternity.

Then Cassian takes a few purposeful steps towards you and takes you in his arms.

He’s so warm, and he smells so good, so you tuck your face into his neck. His hand moves up to cradle the back of your head.

“Hey,” he whispers.

“Hi,” you say, muffled.

You can’t lose this. The feel of his arms around you, the warmth of his chest against yours.

But you need an answer now, so you whisper, “You said you didn’t need time to think.”

Cassian’s fingers sift through your hair. “I don’t.”

There is a pause.

Then Cassian says gently in your ear;

“You don’t need to be anything you aren’t already. I love you because of who you were when I met you, who you are now. Who you’re always gonna be. Nothing else.”

He loves you. You’d fall to your knees if he wasn’t holding you up. You don’t know what to say, but you can’t leave him hanging.

“Cassian-”

“If it helps, I always thought you were attractive. Sexy.”

You think you might die with his soft, raspy voice in your ear saying that.

“And hey, if the physical stuff takes some time, I don’t mind. I want you, too, but I’m ready when you are. Any way you want me.”

You tilt your head and whisper in his ear, “Andor, I’m gonna do something indecent if you keep talking to me like that.”

He smiles, and you feel it against your cheek. “Like I said. I’m ready when you are.”

He runs a hand through the hair at the nape of your neck, and you release him from your hold to put your hands on either side of his face.

His expression is so soft. You can see the dimple on his left cheek, and his eyes are catching all sorts of light.

This beautiful man.

“You love me?” You ask, trying and failing to hide a smile.

He lets out a nervous laugh. “Yeah, I do,”

You make this funny sound, like halfway between a single laugh and a hiccup, because your body can’t quite process the joy you’re feeling.

Cassian snorts. “What was that?”

You shake your head giddily, grinning. “I don’t know!”

“Stop making weird sounds,” he murmurs. His eyes don’t leave your lips.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” you mumble as you close the distance between you.

His lips are ridiculously soft, and they’re moving languidly against yours like you’ve got all the time in the world. His facial hair is a little scratchy, but in a pleasant way that makes your face feel hot.

It goes like this for a minute or so - until his tongue runs across your lips. You gasp, and your hands fall from his face. You sling your arms around his neck while he licks into your mouth, filthy and slow.

You try to give back as good as you get, but stars, this man can kiss.

Suddenly, his lips aren’t on yours anymore, and he’s walking you back into the wall of the ship. You hit the wall with a soft thud and then Cassian starts kissing your neck again.

You feel like a teenager again.

“Cassian,” you manage to choke out.

He grunts in response.

He lingers on one spot on your neck for so long you’re pretty sure there’s going to be a mark, which will be fun to explain when you get back to base.

Cassian’s hands start to roam all over you, and you’re getting a little restless. You pull his face back up to yours and kiss him again as fervently as you can manage.

You’re there for Force knows how long, exploring each other in this new way, until the pace slows and you’re both breathing heavily. You start to pull away, but Cassian bites your bottom lip and tugs on it a little.

You make a soft, surprised sound and he chuckles, low and gentle. You feel another wave of heat rush through your body.

He gives you one more searing kiss, steps back with a smug little smile on his face and starts to get the ship ready for take-off.

You flatten your palms against the wall. Your head falls back in a haze.

You look over at Cassian.

It seems like it’s his personal mission to make you swoon today, because he’s sitting in the pilot’s chair with his headphones on, his hair all messy, still in that suit. His posture is relaxed, his eyes are focussed on the switchboard before him.

You love to see this man in his element.

You stand there leaning against the wall of the ship in a daze while he goes about his work.

He’s about to take off, so he turns to you to tell you to take a seat, but he sees your expression and he stops. There’s a quizzical look on his face.

“What?” He asks.

His shoulders look so broad in that suit.

You have too many thoughts in your head to be able to pick one to say, so you stay silent and just keep following the lines of his body with your eyes.

He fiddles with his hands. He looks embarrassed or even a little shy, which sends a thrill running through you.

“Are you gonna sit down?”

You’ve succeeded in flustering the notoriously stern and unflappable Cassian Andor, and it feels fantastic. You do take a seat, but you don’t stop blatantly watching him. You can’t look away.

He shifts under your gaze, but he manages to take off and get the ship into the atmosphere without any issues.

You let yourself get lost in thought.

It’s been silent for a while, and Cassian is calculating the hyperspace route on a datapad. He’s finally feeling like he has control over the situation when you ask, “Are you planning on keeping the beard? It felt so nice on my neck.”

Cassian drops his stylus, but he manages not to choke on air, so he thinks he handles that pretty well.

He leans down to grab it, but you get there first. You offer him the stylus and your hand lingers on his for a second.

His hand shakes as he types in the coordinates. This is a lot to deal with.

“Uh, maybe? It’s sort of annoying to take care of.”

“Hm.”

Is it warm on the ship? He checks climate control.

Maybe it’s just him. He undoes a button of his jacket and rolls up a sleeve.

He looks over to you while he’s working on his second sleeve and you’re still staring at him, a little dazed. Your eyes meet and you quickly look away.

Cassian feels powerful, that he can make you look like that. He’s also terrified – did he make the wrong choice? Are you better without him?

The screen flashes to notify him that the engines are ready, so he pushes the lever forward and the ship launches into hyperspace.

He watches as the inside of the ship is washed in faint blue from the streaks of light out of the window. Watches the colours playing on your skin.

It occurs to him that the two of you are alone on this ship now for an entire cycle.

A silence stretches out between you, punctuated by accidental eye contact when both of you try to sneak a glance at the other and get caught.

At some point, Cassian stands up, walks over to his pack and grabs his water canteen.

Out of absolutely nowhere, you say very nonchalantly, “I wish there was a shower on this ship.”

Cassian’s mind goes to about fifteen very naked places it’s not supposed to be, and it almost gives him whiplash. “What?”

“Your hair’s all crunchy from the gel. If there was a shower you could wash it off.”

The hair gel isn’t bothering him, so he’s a little confused. “I’ll be able to wash it off tomorrow,”

You nod. “I’ve just always wanted to run my fingers through your hair because it looks so soft, and I figure you’d let me do that now. But the gel is in the way of that right now.”

Suddenly, the hair gel is bothering him. A lot.

“I thought you said you were bad at flirting,” he manages to rasp out.

“You think that’s flirting?”

Cassian thinks he might not survive this flight. “What do you think it is?”

“That’s just my stream of consciousness.”

‘Stream of consciousness.’ Stars help him.

Cassian’s still a little drunk on you saying you love him and feeling your hands and mouth on him, so his self-preservation skills are lacking.

Plus he’s never been one to think much before he acts.

This is what leads him to ask; “What else is in your stream of consciousness?” as he takes a sip from his canteen.

A contemplative hum.

“I was thinking you look hot with your sleeves rolled up.”

He chokes on his water.

You watch him, alarmed, as he coughs up his lungs. It’s embarrassing, but he can’t stop coughing, to the point where you rush over.

“Shit, are you okay?” You reach out to touch him.

Cassian waves your hand away as he tries to get his breath back.

Once he manages to take a few blessedly uneventful breaths, and you take the opportunity to stroke the side of his face. Your eyes are so wide, so concerned. You’re the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.

His chest aches. He doesn’t deserve this. He doesn’t deserve you.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

And now you’re apologising. For complimenting him. For calling him hot.

“- Stars, Cass, I thought you were dying for a second there, is there anything I can-”

He rushes you backwards against the wall of the ship again and does his very best to kiss you breathless.

Before he can even think, he’s pushing his knee gently between your legs. You let out a very soft moan.

He can’t stop. He’s kissing every bit of your skin he can find, and your hands are roaming everywhere on his body.

Maybe if he makes you feel good; if he pleases you, keeps you happy that way, you won’t notice how wrong he is for you.

“I love you,” he murmurs as he moves to kiss your lips again, “I love you,” as he pulls away to take a breath, “I love you,” before he bites your earlobe.

You gasp and grip his shoulder.

Something dark and possessive runs through him.

He can’t lose you. He can’t.

But he knows he shouldn’t do this to you, either.

Cassian’s moving with reckless abandon, his lips and teeth and tongue are everywhere he can reach.

The tenderness and joy of the first few kisses you shared are washed away by this intensity, this focus.

And it’s not that you don’t like it, the urgency, but when you catch Cassian’s expression, it’s as stern and intense as he is during a mission.

Something’s wrong.

You brace your hands on his chest. “Cass, are you okay?”

He ignores you and presses his lips to yours.

You try a couple more times with gentle coaxing, to figure out what’s going on with him, but he doesn’t respond, so you grab his face, press his forehead against yours, and say, “Stop, baby.”

His eyes fly open and he wrenches himself away from you without a word.

He paces the length of the ship over and over again, and you watch the furrow in his brow get deeper.

Slowly, you slide down against the hull of the ship and sit on the floor.

You’ve known Cassian long enough to be able to identify some of his habits and patterns of thought. You trust him enough to know he didn’t lie when he said he loved you, but there’s something stopping him from giving himself to you.

He’s the sort of person that will give love, but not accept it back.

He stops and looks at you. “We can’t do this.”

Twenty minutes ago, you would have allowed this, given up and nursed a bruised heart for months.

But this is now, and you’re not letting the man you love forfeit something that could make him happy because he thinks he doesn’t deserve it.

He’s obviously not expecting the calm expression on your face, or how you say, “Sit down.”

He sits immediately, leaning against the other side of the hull.

“I’m gonna say some things, and then I’ll give you time to think, and you can come back and respond, okay?”

Cassian nods, dumbfounded.

“If you don’t want this, you tell me that. Otherwise, don’t make my choices for me. You haven’t tricked me into loving you. I’ve loved you since you walked over to our table in the mess hall, dead on your feet with your grumpy face, looking like you were about to kill someone. There isn’t an expiry date or a condition on that. I’m not going to wake up one day and decide that I don’t love you because of what you’ve done, or who you are. You’re a good person. You deserve to be happy. To be loved. I’ll love you regardless of whether you’ll accept it or not,” you smile a little, “if you look at it that way, you could find that you may as well make the most of it.”

His eyes are shiny - more than normal - and you realise there are tears there, waiting to spill over. You want nothing more than to go over and hold him, but you don’t need physical contact to keep distracting you from conversations that need to be had.

“Make sense?” You ask.

He nods.

“Good. I’ll be here for you. I’ll still be here for you when we land back on Yavin, no matter how long it takes. Just take your time, sweetheart.”

If anyone else called him ‘sweetheart’, Cassian would start a fight, but when you do, you say it like you mean it. Like you think he’s good, or precious.

You put the meaning of the two words in it. ‘Sweet’ and ‘heart’. It would be enough to make him cry on a normal day, let alone this one. He clears his throat to keep himself under control.

After a while, you move to the bench in the middle of the ship and lie down on it. You didn’t get much sleep during the flight here, so Cassian isn’t surprised when your eyes fall shut almost immediately.

So he sits on the floor of the hull in silence, and he thinks.

A few weeks pass and Cassian hasn’t visited you in the hangars once.

You assume he needs space away from you to think. You said you’d give it to him and you are, but you’re not endlessly patient, and doubt is creeping in.

You trust Cassian, you do, but what if he said he loved you because he felt obliged to, or because of the heat of the moment? What if he’s never going to visit you again? What if those kisses were the only ones you were ever going to share with him?

Greda, for once, is being tactical. She seemed to notice something was off, but she hasn’t mentioned it except for asking you how you are once or twice.

You’re entering the lower hangar with a late-night cup of herbal tea when you hear the alarm for an emergency landing going off on the runway.

You and Riekk are on the night shift tonight, which means you do some mech work or personal projects, but mostly you’re on call for any emergencies ship-wise throughout the night.

You run up the stairs to ground level, your tea left on the bottom step.

When you get to the runway, there’s a BTL Y-wing half in flames, haphazardly landed.

Through the smoke, you see two figures making their way out of their seats on the ship.

K-2 and Cassian.

K-2 might be a little banged up, it’s hard to see from here, but Cassian is hunched over, holding his side. His other arm is limp.

You comm the med centre and ask for the medics on call to bring a med-rig.

The med team arrives while you and Riekk are putting out the last of the fire, and Cassian is taken away on the rig before you can see him.

In the adrenaline rush and anxiety, you manage to convince yourself that Cassian won't want you there with him in the med centre. You need to keep giving him space. He's not dying, just injured. You'll only be an annoyance in the med centre anyway.

So after you've gotten a couple of the bigger maintenance droids to tug the Y-wing out of the middle of the runway into the upper hangar, you trudge back downstairs to work on some carbon scoring that's built up on one of the Corvettes.

You pick up the tea you left on the bottom step and take a sip, but it's been steeping too long, so it's bitter and cold.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x gn!reader #cassian andor x gn reader #cassian andor x you

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chainhead · 3 years

Text

ink

leon has tattoos. ethan was never informed.

leon/ethan. mild swearing. smug leon, done-with-life ethan. fluffy!

It's fine. It's fine. This is totally fine.

Is it weird? Is he weird? God, he must be weird. It's nothing to get this riled up over, yet here he is, peeking over at Leon every now and then to catch a quick glimpse of the ink that spirals up his forearm.

Ethan bites his lip. Twirls the pen in his hand and clicks the button on top a few times, his desk work momentarily forgotten.

No, this isn't normal. Then again, neither is Leon with tattoos, so how is one supposed to think? React? He's been pretty good about hiding his (admittedly disturbing) attraction to the special agent; but things like this… well, they're on the same level as glasses, or piercings. A small change that—for a select few—can turn their entire world on an axis.

How far up do they go?

Does he have more?

When did he get them, and what do they symbolize?

"Ethan?"

The blonde startles, blue eyes flickering up in embarrassment.

Leon blinks at him. "What's your damage?"

Oh, Jesus Christ. "Nothing, sorry. Just a little spacey… today."

"I'll say."

Ethan hurriedly scoots closer to his desk, quickly turning his attention back to the papers that scatter across it. He isn't even sure what he's supposed to be doing with these, or why he even got assigned to deal with them, but if things keep going the way they are, he's gonna be here all fucking night.

Ethan frowns. And then he hesitates, realization dawning on him slowly that… hey, doesn't Leon work crazy late hours, too?

No.. no, no. He's on the clock. He needs to pay attention…

"Ethan." It isn't a question this time. Ethan meets Leon's gaze with a sheepish expression, and the other man draws his brows together. "Seriously, what's going on with you?"

How does one go about confessing their guilty, weird, quid-pro-quo attraction to their superior without coming off as a freak? Better yet, how does one go about it without getting fired? Ethan feels a cold sweat prickle beneath the collar of his button-up.

I like you. I like you. I like you.

"I like…" It's like there's a solid chunk of ice stuck in his throat. "Well, I mean, your… you know."

Leon's look of concern quickly shifts into one of bewilderment. "No?" He says, real slow-like. "I don't know."

Ethan wants to die.

"It's just…"

The atmosphere in the room shifts. Ethan's hands are clammy and cold and he regrets even opening his mouth; wishing he could've just opted to say that he feels sick and his head hurts, and maybe even take the rest of the night off so he could reflect on all of this – perhaps over a nice glass of red wine. Instead, because he's terrible at socializing and even worse at socializing with Leon, he's currently staring the agent down with terror flashing in his eyes.

Leon doesn't say anything, but it's obvious that he's dying to get this over with, just like Ethan is.

"Y– you can't get mad," Ethan stammers, clenching his fingers.

More silence.

Ethan sighs. Then, finally, he lays down his cards with a quiet, "Your tattoos."

Leon tilts his head. "... Mine?" He asks, a bit delayed, and Ethan has never wanted to evaporate into thin air more than he does right now.

"Yeah."

"Like, the ones on my arms?" Leon rotates his wrists, glancing down at his own artwork.

"Yeah."

"Ah."

Great. When should he start packing up his belongings? Now? Tomorrow? There's a spare produce box in the break room, and he only has a couple of personal items on his desk. His name placard, a picture of his childhood dog, a cup full of pens he got on clearance at Staples…

Although Ethan doesn't get to stand up or prepare before Leon is speaking again, his voice surprisingly nonchalant.

"And...?"

Ethan sucks in a deep breath. That's a good question. "They're… distracting me?" Vague enough to keep matters civil. He can do this. "And that's why I'm a little… slow, today. I think. Because they're doing that. Distracting me, I mean."

Leon hums, acknowledging that he heard Ethan's answer. He waits, silent until Ethan manages to scrounge up the courage to meet him eye-to-eye, and then he laughs.

There's something to be said about the way in which Leon handles all things; from topics as serious as bioweapons wreaking havoc on unsuspecting townhomes, to things like this – Ethan admitting he's intrigued by the older man's ink. He's good at finding the balance while still remaining cool and collected, and that's a trait Ethan's always admired.

Because, sadly, he cannot do that.

"I knew there was something about you, Winters," Leon says jovially, as if he's uncovered some grand secret. He leans back in his chair, pushes himself a little further away from his desk, and says: "Do you want to come have a better look?"

Ethan nearly chokes on his spit. "W– wh– what?"

Leon's grin widens. He's enjoying this. "I can't have distractions in the workplace. So if you're curious, and think it might help you refocus, I implore you to get your ass over here and take a gander."

The blonde flusters, his lips screwing into a scowl. Implore. What did this guy know about words like that?

Regardless, he still obediently gathers himself to his feet, taking the necessary steps to close the distance between him and Leon. The fine hairs on the back of Ethan's neck stand at attention, and he's acutely aware of the personal bubble he is now officially bursting— not that Leon seems to notice, or mind.

Infact, the only thing he does when Ethan comes to stand beside his chair is jut both arms out, letting Ethan do whatever he likes.

Instinctively, Ethan grabs them. Then panics, because holy shit, he's touching Leon fucking Kennedy. Then double panics, because why did he do that? Why is he still doing it right now?

"Uh…"

"You just wanted to hold hands?"

"N– no!" Ethan exclaims, immediately letting go. Leon bursts out into full-bellied laughter, and the blonde has to take a deep breath before he passes out from his nerves. "Jesus, Leon, I– I was trying to bring them a little closer."

"Oh right, the bad eyesight," Leon drawls. "I forgot you wear glasses sometimes. Near-sighted?"

"Far-sighted. Now shut up and let me look," Ethan snaps, finding his second wind. He reaches for Leon's arms again and finds relief in how the older man wordlessly obliges; giving Ethan the opportunity to twist his arms and inspect the patterns that dance across them. It's not a situation Ethan could've expected, or even predicted, but Leon's right about one thing—this is definitely scratching that terrible itch he feels, somewhere deep down. No more needing to sneak creepy, uncomfortable glances to figure out what they are.

However, he'll always wonder where the tattoos lead. And how many more of them Leon has, hidden underneath all those layers of fabric.

"I see." Ethan nods, smiling faintly as he releases his grip again. "They're cool, I wasn't expecting you to have them. Then again, I've never seen you wear anything other than long sleeves."

Leon quirks a brow. "You pay attention?"

Ethan's smile drops. "Oh. I mean, not in like– not in a weird way, that isn't what—"

There's the sound of a scoff, and then Leon's hands are on Ethan's wrists, gently pulling him down to his level. The blonde stumbles forwards and catches himself with a knee on Leon's chair, and the situation is so intense and utterly stifling that Ethan has to rear away with his eyes narrowed in firm on the office door.

"Ethan," Leon coos.

The blonde makes a noncommittal sound in his throat.

"Ethan, c'mon, look at me."

There's no way this is happening right now. No feasible way. He must be dreaming.

Ethan registers with rapt attention as Leon let's go of his wrists in favor of bringing both hands up to cup his cheeks, and whether Ethan wants to submit or not isn't really an option anymore. Determinedly, the older man coaxes him to meet his gaze again.

"Shy?" Leon teases, and then quickly changes his tune when Ethan struggles in his grasp. "Okay, okay, I was just kidding! Damn."

"Leon—"

"Hold on for a second, sweetheart. I've got a few things on my mind." Ethan's face burns as he tries to process this, process the feel of Leon's touch as it sears itself into his memory. His heart pounds so fiercely in his chest he fears that Leon can feel it, but if he does, he doesn't comment.

Leon brushes his thumbs over Ethan's cheekbones. "You thought I'd be mad?"

"It's... unprofessional," Ethan breathes.

"What is?" Leon asks. His eyes are so blue. "Wanting to see my tattoos?"

Ethan nods. Leon snickers, pulling him that much closer, and the blonde is enveloped in the smell of bergamot and gunpowder and something spicy like sage, and… what was the question again? He can't think clearly when he can feel Leon's words flit across his lips.

"The only 'unprofessional' thing I see is the subordinate about to climb into his boss's lap," Leon murmurs with a wry smile. Ethan lets out a small gasp, jolting, and Leon makes sure he doesn't slip away. "Woah, hey! I never said I didn't like it."

"L– Leon, I don't understand what's…" Ethan stutters, shivering, feeling the traces of electricity that follow Leon's fingertips. He doesn't know whether to lean into him or settle his entire weight on top of Leon, so to play it safe, he refrains from doing either.

The agent takes a moment, eyes sweeping over Ethan's features, before letting out a soft exhale. "Well, now you've seen them. I hope that helped you find some kind of clarity..."

Not even a little bit, Ethan thinks miserably.

"... But it'll probably kill you to know that there's more than just this, and I can assure you, they are much more interesting." Leon chuckles as he tugs the blonde in one last time, and kisses him, right on the corner of his mouth.

"Still distracted?" He whispers.

Ethan can't even think of a proper reply. His brain has turned to mush.

"You…"

"Mm?"

Ethan sucks in a deep breath. "You're a fucking asshole."

Leon throws his head back and laughs, and when he recovers Ethan is already swooping in for another kiss. To hell with professionalism.

#heyyy i dont usually post my writing here but #im gonna!!! >:)#*flings my drabble at u*#ethan winters #leon kennedy #resident evil #lethan

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knivesareout · 3 years

Text

remain devious

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Smut (18!!!+ ONLY), slight sexism, oral sex (f receiving), mild breath play (under negotiated kink).

A/N: My fic for The SL+ Discord™ Fic Exchange! This goes out to the lovely @soyelfuegoquearde who I was graced with writing a fic for and here’s hoping I delivered. 💖

Read on AO3 here.

Summary: Javier Peña’s mouth was going to get him in trouble one day-- if only he’d put it to good use.

---

There weren’t many people who could go toe-to-toe with Javier Peña. You learned the first day on assignment in Bogotá that you could.

The embassy was a quick walk from the apartment complex they’d set you up in and while they had suggested you drive the standard issue bullet proof Jeep they’d provided, mostly for safety’s sake, it seemed like a waste.

A blonde man, who quickly introduces himself as Steve Murphy, was outside to greet you with a strong handshake and a grin. You almost anticipate him to be rude to you out of the sheer fact you were joining the fight late but he seems grateful, explaining to you the ins and outs of the different sectors in the large building that made up the Embassy: the DEA, the Mil Group, and the CIA-- all housed under one roof with a common goal: taking down Pablo Escobar.

“There’s another one, right? We have another partner?” You ask, turning a corner and almost running into a woman who looked beyond frazzled and you apologize quickly before catching up with Steve.

Steve turns over his shoulder to glance at you, a smirk curled on his lips. “Yeah. Peña’s usually late. You’ll meet him. At some point.”

Peña was two hours late.

You and Steve go through six briefs and four cups of coffee between the two of you in the small office shared among your team before your other partner decides to grace you with his presence. Your desk that was once clean was now a disaster with papers scattered and crumpled across the top and you now had a headache slowly creeping between your eyes.

“Well this just looks fucking sad,” a deep voice sounds from the doorway and you snap your head up to glare at the offending noise.

Steve lets out a low whistle, shaking his head. “What’s fuckin’ sad is you showing up two hours late and not even bringing us lunch, Peña.”

So this was him.

“Shut the hell up, Murphy. Who is this?” Javi points to you and looks at Steve, waiting on an answer.

“I’m your new partner.” You stand up and fix him with an icy glare. “And you can ask me if you have any questions, Agent Peña.”

He doesn’t respond and walks back out of the room, mumbling something about coffee.

---

You realize quickly that you and Javier are more similar than you would personally like. Word around the office was that he was a bit of a slut and that was something you knew all too well. Your reputation back home was something comparable, the whispers more annoying than they were degrading. Who cared if you liked to have sex? You were a grown ass woman and it was nobody’s business but your own.

And if you hadn’t learned just from the regular old office gossip, you were quick to learn from having your apartment right next to his. The walls were thin, the calls of ‘Más duro, Javi,’ in the dead of night interrupting your sleep more times than you could count.

Javier would walk into the office refreshed, hours late, while you were there, on time, and in desperate need of caffeine.

It wasn’t worth mentioning; at least not at first. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction that you could hear his sexual escapades and how he was clearly a fantastic lover. There was a bit of jealousy, just on the surface, because it wasn’t you getting laid and you were sure if you asked him to keep quiet, he would be able to tell immediately that you were hard up.

And while yes, he was getting information from his CIs that was helping in the quest to catch Escobar, that didn’t make it any more bearable. In fact, it made him even more insufferable because he felt like he was doing an extension of his job by sleeping with these women.

It all came to a head three months into your stay in Colombia.

Three nights in a row, Javier had brought women, different women, if the tones of their voices were anything to go by, back to his place. You’d gone into work with dark circles under your eyes after the third night and Steve had long since stopped asking what was wrong after you went off on him a month prior.

After you’d snapped at him and took the time to explain why you were in such a foul mood, he had immediately understood and offered to talk to Javier for you. An idea that you quickly dismissed, as it was your problem and yours alone.

Your head was buried under your arms, the bright lights of the office only serving to make your headache worse. There were two empty cups of coffee stacked on your desk that you’d downed immediately after walking in, Steve having left them there as a peace offering of sorts. He could tell after the second day that you needed the extra help and you had shot him a grateful smile when you’d walked in this morning.

“So, I’ve got a lead,” Javier announces walking into the office only 30 minutes late this time.

“Thank fucking god,” you mumble, picking your head off the desk and swiping at your mouth in case there was any drool from dozing off.

Javier’s head whips towards you, his gaze a mixture of anger and curiosity; like he can’t believe you had the nerve to say anything.

The two of you, at best, tolerated each other. Snarky remarks, quick jabs, and blatantly ignoring the other was how the you two communicated and you knew Steve was getting sick of it. It was a surprise that he hadn’t yelled at either of you over the whole thing but you chalked it all up to his angel of a wife, Connie, helping him keep his temper in check.

“The hell is that supposed to mean, Agent?” Not even on a first name basis, it was how the two of you addressed each other.

You shrug, “Just been hearing a lot of information coming from your apartment every night for the last couple of days. It was about time you got something useful.”

Javi goes to speak but Steve cuts him off with a finger and shoots you a pleading stare that says ‘not another word, please’.

You only keep your mouth shut to appease Steve and sigh, tossing your empty cups into the trash and wait for Javier to spill the information he received.

Javier shoots you a nasty glare before going on to explain something about a brothel in Medellín and some of Escobar’s sicarios. There was a meet up of sorts happening tomorrow afternoon, where you were almost guaranteed to catch Velasco and maybe a few others. Javier distinctly chooses not to look at you when he’s explaining, his information relayed directly to Steve. For whatever reason, this is what seems to break the camel’s back and you stand, beyond irritated.

“Agent Peña, if you have an issue with me then I’m going to need you to be very clear about what it is and why. I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve the freeze out you’ve been adamant about since I got here and frankly, it’s insulting,” you start, chest heaving as you try to keep a level head. “I’m on time every day, without fail. I work just as hard, if not harder, than you do in this wild goose chase and to be treated as anything less is sexist. We all went through the same training, the same courses, to be here. I don’t know what it is about me that bothers you so much but I’m going to need you to get the fuck over it and get with the program if we’re going to get anywhere.”

Your outburst seems to catch him off guard, if his open staring at you is anything to go by. Taking your seat again, you nod for him to continue and he does-- this time making sure you’re included.

Things get better after that and while it’s not quite the comradery you have with Steve, it’s better than it was before and you’ll take it.

Javier now treated you with mild respect and that’s all you had wanted to begin with.

---

The week had been long; tiring and full of false leads. You were sleep deprived and overworked. A chase mid-week that had put you all over Bogotá and left you empty handed was still wreaking havoc on your back a couple days later. Case files were taking over your desk and the thought of looking at even one more had you wanting to scream, the low lights of the office once again giving you a headache that no pain medication seemed to help with.

Javier and Steve were starting to pack up to head out while you sat there, eyes starting to blur as you look at your 5th file in the last hour.

“We’re headed to the bar near the apartment. You wanna come?”

Normally you turned down the invitations Steve extended you, knowing Javi’s nicer attitude probably only extended to working hours only, but you were so desperate to have an excuse to leave that you nod quickly, standing up and sliding on your coat.

“Let’s go. Murphy, you’re buying the first round,” you tell him as you pass by out of the office.

You can hear his laugh behind you as you walk through the empty building, hoping you didn’t just make a mistake.

---

They’re not far behind you but you’re already a drink in when they walk through the front door, Steve finding you tucked in a booth in the back corner already with an empty beer bottle on the table while you’re nursing your second.

“I started a tab in your name, Murphy,” you explain with a grin as a waitress comes by and takes their orders.

Steve grimaces but nods, taking it in stride. “Should’ve figured.”

Conversation is light and superficial and you can tell Steve is working to keep things peaceful and on neutral ground. Javi’s mostly one worded answers are almost worse than the snide remarks from before and you have to take measured breaths not to say anything, for your sake and honestly, Steve’s too.

“Can you let me out? I need to piss,” he asks you and you stand up to let him out, sliding back into the booth and taking Steve’s spot so he can just sit down when he comes back.

It’s silent between you and Javier for a moment, the loud noises of the tv and the bar crowd filling the space until he glances over at you with a curious gaze.

“Did you ever wonder?” He asks without context, sipping at his beer.

You’re taken aback by his question, tilting your head as you try to think of what he might possibly be talking about. “Wonder what?”

“All those nights where you could hear me through the walls. Did you ever wonder what I was doing?”

You almost want to laugh at his question. The fact that he’d been holding on to certain parts of your outburst for months has pride blooming in your chest.

“No, not really,” you tell him easily. “It was pretty easy to just make my own assumptions.

“And what did you assume?”

“That either they were faking it for your sake or you’re actually as good as they say around the Embassy.”

Javier smirks behind his beer and nods, licking his lips to chase the beer that dropped.

“Oh, I’m better than they say,” he promises.

“Prove it.”

You swallow thickly, wondering if you’ve just backed yourself into a corner when Steve comes back, launching into some tangent about Noonan and a new policy she’s putting through. His voice goes in one ear and out the other as you try to focus on anything other than the man to your left. You know Javier will make good on his promise when you feel his hand on your thigh, giving it a squeeze and you breathe slowly, turning towards Steve with a smile.

“Yeah, agreed. She’s such a hard ass.”

---

You and Javi burst through your apartment door hours later and you silently thank whatever deity there is that Steve lives upstairs and is already home, your moans loud and carrying throughout the lobby before Javi can shut the door behind you.

“I’ve been thinking about this since the first day I saw you,” he admits, tugging at your shirt and undoing a few buttons in his haste to get you naked. His hands are everywhere once your top is pulled down your arms and you feel like you’re burning, the rough calluses on his fingertips creating a delicious drag across your skin.

It’s almost surprising to hear him say he’s thought about you in any context, let alone this one, but you mask your expression and cry out as his mouth finds your shoulder and bites down, sucking so hard you know you’ll be bruised come morning.

“And what did you think about?” You shoot back, arching your chest against his.

The yellow button down he’s wearing is your current nemesis as you fumble your way across the buttons and finally just yank it open at the neck, buttons scattering across the hardwood floors.

Javier grunts at the motion, moving his mouth down your chest, fingers finding the clasp of your bra and pinching it open until the material falls slack on your chest.

“Thought about how loud I can get you to scream my name,” he mumbles, leaning down to capture your left nipple between his lips while his fingers find the right and start pinching in tandem with the work of his mouth.

It’s been months since anyone has touched you other than yourself.

You’d made a promise to yourself before moving down to Colombia that your job was going to be your first and only priority. Work hadn’t leant itself well to finding randoms to sleep with anyhow, mostly keeping to yourself and the few friends you’d made around the Embassy that you’d grab lunch or coffee with in the very little spare time you did have-- so having Javier’s full attention on you, your body, was intoxicating.

“Is that a challenge?” You manage to get out, weaving a hand through his dark hair and tugging him away from your chest, angling his head to look up at you.

His eyes are blown wide, practically black and his hair is a mess but he’s never looked so fucking hot and you hate it.

Javi doesn’t answer your question, just moves up to slot his mouth against yours.

The kiss is angry. Teeth clashing, lip biting, angry. Even his hands feel angry as he tears off your clothes, leaving you naked before him.

Your chest is heaving as you try and catch your breath once Javier pulls away and you place a hand on his chest, making him take steps backward. “My room is back there,” you nod, pulling him in for another quick kiss and pushing him away.

Javier grabs you around the waist, pressing your naked chest to his own and noses against your ear as you both walk blindly towards your room. “I bet I can get you to scream my name so loud even Murphy’ll hear,” he tells you, dragging his nose up the side of your neck and latching his lips on the lobe of your ear.

His challenge makes you laugh and you roll your eyes before walking into your room and laying down on the mattress, crooking a finger towards him.

“Then fucking prove it.”

Javier’s on you in an instant, pushing your legs apart to settle between them. His mouth nips around your stomach, your thighs. Little love bites that you know will serve as a reminder of what a shit head he is, like he’s claiming his territory.

If they didn’t feel so good you’d push him away and tell him to get on with it but his mouth is so warm that you don’t care. Suddenly, you really don’t care that Javier Peña is the biggest fucking pain in your ass so long as he puts his mouth to good use.

His head moves lower and you can feel his hot breath on your pussy, his fingers sliding between the lips and exposing your heat to the cool air. Once his mouth makes contact with your clit, his name slips from your mouth quietly, “Javier.”

“Louder,” he tells you from between your legs while he drags a finger through your slick.

“Don’t get cocky, you-,” you start to warn him, going to kick him in his side until he slides two thick, longer fingers inside of you without warning and your leg goes straight, your head pushing back into the plush pillow behind you and you cry out his name at the feeling of being stretched.

Nothing is comparable to this feeling, no matter how hard you’ve tried and at that moment, you’d sing Javier’s name if he asked you to so long as he didn’t stop.

“More, please,” you whimper. Your eyes are screwed tight and you clutch the pillow behind you in a death grip.

“What was that?” Javi’s tone is smug and you take a breath, willing yourself to just submit to him.

“Please, Javi. More,” you tell him louder this time, voice strained.

He seems to like the sound of that, a third finger sliding home inside of you and you clench around his digits as he starts a steady pace, thrusting them slow and powerful.

The sounds that fill the air are pure filth. The wetness seeping out of you is coating the inside of your thighs and you’re sure you’re dripping onto the blankets beneath you. Javi’s tongue laps at your clit, bringing it into his mouth and sucking harshly.

That feeling is what brings you over the edge. Your body ascends and crashes in the same second and you take a shuddering breath as your cunt pulses long and hard around Javier’s fingers as you cum. Your whole body is buzzing like a live wire, your toes numb.

“What the fuck,” you groan, chest heaving.

“Never doubt me, Agent,” his tone smug.

“Shut the fuck up, Peña.” You push at his head and he laughs, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh.

Javier’s lips trail up your thigh, across your hip and up to your chest where he finally lands on your lips. The kiss is the sweetest it’s been all night and you relish in the languidness of it, the way his tongue sweeps across yours and licks into your mouth like he knows what you want. What you crave.

His cock, hard and rigid, bumps against your hip as he moves and seeks friction, so you slide a hand down his chest to grasp the thickness of him. “Fuck me, Javi,” you whisper as he peppers kisses across your throat and groans when you squeeze him tight. “Prove to me that you’re just as good of a lay as everyone says.”

Your words seem to kick him into gear and he shuffles back away from your touch, leaning back on his legs while he sits between your thighs and takes his cock in hand. His other opens the lips of your pussy and he moves forward just enough to tap the head of his dick against your clit.

“Just fuck me Javi for fucks sake,” you whimper, still sensitive from your previous orgasm and you just want him inside. The teasing was unnecessary but wholly Javier and you curse again when he slowly starts to slide the head of his cock down until it notches against your entrance.

Javier moves slow once he’s fully sheathed inside of you and it’s the best and worst thing to happen to you, you’re sure. The feeling of finally being filled is worth the wait but the way he does it is infuriating because he knows just how good it feels. Javier slides a hand to your shoulder and fixes his dark gaze with your own and it’s over from there.

His pace is like nothing you’ve endured before. The push and pull of Javier’s hips hitting into yours is loud in the otherwise quiet room, the wetness between your thighs now coating his own. He’s sweating as he moves, grunts spilling from his lips, “Fuck your pussy feels so good around me.”

Normally you’d snark out a response but words are hard to form with the way he’s working you over. His cock fits you like a glove, hitting all of the right spots and playing your body like a well tuned instrument. It’s just missing something.

Your hand that was clutching the comforter beside you reaches out to grasp his forearm that’s on your shoulder and you slowly move his hand until it’s cupping your throat. Javier’s pace falters at your movement and he just stares you down, a curious look pointed at you.

You’d overheard at work it was something Javi was into, some water cooler chat you’d walked into only a few weeks prior. One of the CIA girls had been retelling her hook-up story with Javi from months ago to a new hire and they were all eating it up. While you had only passed them by, not managing to hear more details, you still decided to file that information away for later-- a bit surprised that you had something else in common with him after all.

“Two taps if it’s too much,” you tell him, tapping on his arm so he understands and he nods.

Javier’s hand slightly grips your neck, his thumb pressing in on the side and the pressure is delicious and you clench hard around his cock at the feeling.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he groans out, his hips slowly starting to move again until he finds a rhythm.

His hand doesn’t do much more than lightly press against you but it’s enough. It feels safe, warm around your neck and you know Javier would never hurt you, the unexplained trust of having him as your partner translating now to the bedroom.

You both work in tandem, his hips pushing in and you chasing his as he pulls out only to slide back in. It’s probably the best you two have ever worked together and it’s irony at its finest.

Javier tilts your head back, baring the full length of your throat to him, his thumb tracing along your jaw and you cry out once he hits that spot inside of you that makes your limbs go numb in pleasure. He drags your bottom lip down and you suck his thumb between your lips, lightly scraping your teeth around the digit. He abandons your neck then, using his now wet thumb to press against your clit and that feeling coupled with his thrusts sends you over the precipere, your body baring down and clenching tightly around his cock as you cum.

Your whole body is shuddering, your mouth open as you try and find your breath as Javier continues to pound into you in search of his own release. He finds it just a minute after your own, his mouth dropping to your neck as he groans, hips stuttering as he pulses his release inside of you.

Careful not to just collapse on top of you, Javier rolls to the side and lets out a long breath before turning to you, eyes searching.

“If you’re looking for some sort of regret, you’re not gonna find it Peña,” you tell him, reaching over into your nightstand to find your emergency pack of cigarettes. You offer him the pack but he waves you off, swinging his legs off the side of the bed to stand up while you light up.

You watch as Javier moves around your room, slowly dressing himself. Jeans zipped back up and he’s left shirtless, his top somewhere in your living room missing half of its buttons.

“You want a shirt?”

He nods, “Yeah, that’d be good. Forgot you fucking ruined mine.”

Laughing, you stand and move around Javier to reach into your dresser and pull out a plain white shirt that you normally saved for laundry days. You toss it over to him and lean against your dresser, pulling a drag from the cigarette while you watch him tug it on. The shirt is a little too tight around the chest but it looks good on him and you’re almost sad to see him go. Almost.

“So I’ll see you in the office on Monday?” You ask, putting your half smoked cigarette out on the windowsill and leave it there, making your way out into the kitchen. Javier follows and tugs his boots on, shoving his socks into the pockets of his jeans and he nods.

You’re almost glad that Javier is the first person you’ve slept with while you’re here. He’s not expecting anything more than you are and despite the fact that you two work together, you don’t see any issues coming forward about your night together unless he wants to do it again. The prospect is nice and you pour yourself a glass of water, sipping as you watch him turn to leave.

“Yeah, Monday.” He gives you a salute and a wink. “I’ll see ya, Agent.”

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moral-turpitudes · 3 years

Text

Drowning:

Trigger Warnings: Angst, Swearing, Guns, Neglect, etc.

Word Count: 2,400

Characters: Thomas Shelby x Shelby!Sister

I’ve wanted to try my hand at OC’s for a while so her name is Evelyn Shelby lol.

Request: “Hey! Maybe one with Thomas were he kind of forgets that his little sister actually has feelings. He keeps on using her as bait for the business and one day she snaps, pointing a gun to her head. Just an angst fic. Love your writing so much. xx”

Requested by: Anon

Summary: Years after returning from London and agreeing to help out her family, Evelyn Shelby soon comes to terms with the horrors of her job and hopes someone can help her see the good she’s done for the family, even if it means talking to her ever-distant brother Thomas.

“That’ll be 3 pounds Mr.” The third youngest Shelby said quietly, grabbing her hand gun from her purse while the man looked away, giving her enough time to slip her coat on over her bare body, and hiding the gun in her pocket.

“I’ll give you 5 if you tell Mr. Shelby I’m coming for him tomorrow, I know you’ve seen him around here.” The man said, his breath reeking of whiskey as he whispered in her ear.

Shivers went down her spine as the man touched her face. He caressed her cheek roughly before moving away from her, placing two extra bills on the bed before heading to the door.

“Wait, I forgot to tell you something...” She said as he stopped to turn around. He smirked, eyeing her up and down as she walked towards him.

“You won’t be seeing anyone.” She said, giving him a wicked smile as she quickly pulled the gun out and shot the man point blank. As he fell to the floor with a loud thud, blood dripped down her face and bare chest as she looked at the mess of the bedroom.

Tommy saved this area of the Garrison for when anyone in the family needed a place to stay or a place to fuck, and tonight was her night to use the room as she pleased, all in the name of blinder business.

She walked over to the en-suite bathroom, looking at her haggard reflection in the mirror. Blood glinted off her face and chest in the dimly lit room, her makeup was smeared in some areas, and her hair was in a messy bun of sorts.

As she glanced silently in the mirror, she lit a cigarette, letting the smoke escape through her lips before curling it back through her nose, desperately needing to calm her nerves as she thought about the past couple years.

After her brothers left for war, she left for London, leaving Ada and Polly to care for Finn in order to start her life on her own terms for once, knowing she couldn’t stay out in Small Heath like the others as it held too many memories. But when she eventually got news of her brothers coming home, she knew she couldn’t leave them, especially after their mother’s death and their fathers sudden departure.

As the memories came flooding back, she remembered that she took this job to help them and to spend more time with them, but it only took a toll on her as time went on.

On the outside, she remained calm much like her older brother Tommy, but on the inside she was drowning. Drowning in the darkness that consumed her thoughts when she was near her brothers, thinking that if she’d succumb to the waves, that no one would be there to pull her out, not unless they were forced to. The only ones who paid her any mind these days were Polly and Finn, as Ada was out with her son most days and the boys were out wreaking almost as much havoc as she was.

As she finished her cigarette, she dabbed some of the blood off her face and chest, realizing there weren’t many wash cloths to use.

“Fuck it.” She mumbled under her breath as she quickly got dressed and put her bloodstained coat back on. Her dress was wrinkled and torn where the man had roughly gone for her chest, not having any sense in his drunken state.

With light footsteps she padded over to the bed to strap on her heels, and grabbed the money as she headed for the door, avoiding the puddle of blood and stepping over the mans body.

Her heels clicked down the stairs as she made her way through the back hall of the Garrison, the bar seemingly empty except for her brother Tommy.

“What are you doing here?” She asked, almost no emotion in her voice as she spoke from tired lips, a cut from a few hours before making itself known as she remembered the man slapping her for being too “bossy” when explaining her rates like rehearsed.

“I’m here to drink, Evelyn. I’m also here to collect that mans body so I don’t have to deal with it tomorrow.”

“Tommy Shelby, getting his hands dirty? I thought that was for Arthur these days. What about uncle Charlie? You seem to have enough blood on your hands already.” She remarked, sitting down across from him at the booth and looking at his bloodied knuckles. He scoffed as he took a swig of his whiskey, the smell of it making her stomach churn slightly.

“Did he do that?” Tommy said, an angry look filling his eyes as he looked at the cut on her lip.

“What do you think?” She said putting out her cigarette as she blew out a final puff of smoke.

“It’s a good thing he’s already dead.” He said, looking out the window and avoiding his sisters tired gaze.

“How was the family meeting? I wasn’t invited apparently.” She remarked, ripping him out of his thoughts.

“I’m not doing this, Ev we talked about this.” He said rolling his eyes at her as he sat back in the seat, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I just want to know why in the hell you include everyone except me in the meetings. I want to know why you make time for everyone except me...Tell me. Now.” She demanded, her heart racing and face flushing with anger as her temper flared. Her eyes eerily mimicked her brothers as she looked at him.

Tommy sighed as he spoke, choosing his words carefully.

“We think that limiting your attendance at meetings can be good for you. We’re just wanting to protect our sister.” He said.

Evelyn scoffed as she took the bottle of whiskey in her hand, drinking straight from the bottle.

“You think you’re protecting me but you’re not. One day Tommy...one fucking day you’ll realize that I’m valuable to this god forsaken family as more than a whore. You can pull that shit with the others about what’s best for us but you’re not pulling that with me.” She said taking another cigarette out of her coat and lighting it herself as she continued.

“I want to be here, believe me I do, but not being let in on what’s happening doesn’t help as much as you think it does. I barely know what’s going on unless you come to me personally...If you cared about me, you wouldn’t cast me out as the fucking bait of the family and then leave me hanging.” She said, tears threatening to fall down her blood stained cheeks.

“You’re helping with the business because it’s in your blood, Evelyn. We’re family, and we’re paying you more than you could back in London. Would you want to abandon us?” He asked, getting defensive.

“What difference would it make Tommy? I’m no more valuable to you dead or alive. I just lure the men you can’t kill right away and I don’t get any recognition for that. I’ve killed 20 men since I’ve moved back to help the family and I can remember each of their faces.” She said, looking away from him annoyed.

“Don’t you get tired of seeing their faces haunting you?” She asked, taking another swig from the bottle, the alcohol burning her cut lip as she swallowed.

“I stopped seeing their faces a long time ago Ev, and you need to as well. This is why we’ve been keeping you out of the business most days.” He said taking the bottle from her grasp.

“I’m sitting here still covered in his blood, I’m sitting here after another night with a drunken evil man and I’m disgusted Thomas...I feIt nothing when I shot him.” She said, her fingers grazing the metal of the hand gun in her pocket.

“You know how you said you felt like you were drowning when you came home from France?” She asked.

“Well I feel like that too, but no ones dared to ask how I've been. I’ve always been the last in command. Hell, fucking Finn has more say in this family than I do.” She said, putting the gun to her head shakily. Tommy froze inside, barely being able to speak at first.

“Evelyn...listen to me...your work has helped us, we’ve just been too busy to stop and fucking think about anything else. Who was the person that cheered me up when Arthur and John and I got home aye? It was you. Not Ada, not Finn, just you. If you’re drowning...I’d like to help, if you’ll let me...” He said, looking into his sisters eyes that were almost a reflection of his.

With a sigh she set the gun on the table, sliding it to Tommy. He immediately put it in his coat and stood up.

“What are you doing?” She asked, running her hands over the dried blood down her cheek.

“We’re going to talk about this and I’m going to clean you up.” He said, lighting a cigarette before heading over to the bar.

“What’s eating at you aye? You may not think I can tell that you’ve been off but I can. You know Polly sent me here for you...” He said, pouring her a glass of water and drenching a cloth in alcohol.

He handed the cloth to her and got to work on the other one as she wiped off the blood on her chest, looking at the tear in her dress and pulling her coat tightly to her as she tried to cover the large rip.

“Polly will kill me herself if she sees the dress is torn. Fucking bastard.” She said taking a sip of water.

Tommy sat near her and dabbed the cloth on her face and inspected the cut on her lip, causing her to wince as he cleaned it.

“I’m not talking about the dress Evelyn, that can be fixed. What’s going on up here?” He asked, pointing to his head.

“Everything and...nothing...” She said, looking down at her hands that were clenched together in her lap.

“I guess it’s in our blood because I like this business...getting rid of bad men that keep fucking us over, but...killing them takes a toll. I see their faces when I try to sleep some nights, and other nights I sleep as if nothing happened...” She said as Tommy sat back in his chair, he nodded for her to continue.

“I just get so scared that one day I’m going to lay with a man and not come back, some of them are vile people.” She said, wincing at the memory of a past painful business deal.

“If I put you on regular business in the shops, would that help you?” He asked.

Evelyn scoffed at his offer.

“You know me Tommy, I have to keep moving. I have to do something more than sitting at a desk crunching numbers. I’m too wild for that.” She said smirking, her features resembling her aunt Polly at times.

Tommy smiled at the memory of her chasing rats with Ada, shooting at them with a revolver as they played in the streets near their house.

“I know. That’s why I’m planning on changing your job.” He said giving her his signature smile. Not many people saw it after the war, but when she’d returned from London when the boys had gotten back from France, it was the one thing he reserved for her, the one thing that made her realize she didn’t completely lose her brother.

“What are you planning? I can practically see your brain flipping over in that ugly head of yours.” She joked, lightly punching his arm.

“I’m wanting to hire some lighter muscle. Someone who can get info on the inside but still be able to hold their own. Ada’s been working on getting some inside information about her contacts she had with Freddie, and I think you could help me when we go on more blinder business.” He said.

“Do I look like I could hold my fucking own? Are you mad?” She asked.

“I’ve seen you shoot my enemies plenty of times, and you wrestled Arthur and I to the ground years ago. I’d hate to see what you could do now.” He said smirking.

“I’m sure with enough training I could still take you down.” She said looking up at her brother. His eyes tired and wrinkling at the edges.

“I wouldn’t doubt it. You’ve never liked being in one place and never liked people picking on us. If anything you’re the only one of us whose really held on to our gypsy roots aye?” He said, adjusting his coat as he stood up.

“You have a point.” She said, smirking as she got up as well.

“Are you drowning now?” He asked quietly, his eyes scanning hers.

She sighed and looked down, trying to think about all that’s upset her over the years since she’s been home.

“Not anymore.” She said, giving her brother a hug, taking him off guard at the sudden contact.

He gently placed his hands around her in a warm embrace as she kept herself there, not remembering when the last time was that she’d given one of her siblings a hug.

“Tell Polly thank you. And I guess since I still love you guys, thank you for checking in too. I accept the offer as well by the way.” She said releasing herself from him.

“Isn’t that what big brothers are for?” He asked as she walked towards the door.

“I guess.” She said chuckling as they both walked out of the Garrison.

“Aren’t you going to take care of the bastard upstairs?” She asked.

“I will once I take you back home. He’ll be gone before the morning.” He said, lighting a cigarette and driving off towards her apartment.

“I’m counting on that. Can’t have the coppers after me.” She said, looking back behind her as the Garrison shrunk in the distance.

“I’ve told you this before, you don’t have to worry about the cops. They’ll leave ya alone if they want to keep their eyes.” He said, driving as the sun set around them, the plans for the future of his business rolling around in his head the whole way there.

Tag List:

(If you’d like to be added/removed, just send in an ask/message!) :)

@msbzowy, @nofckingfighting, @aranoburns, @sighonahurricane, @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes, @gaytommyshelby, @wowjeena, @fifty-shadesof-tommyshelby, @inglourious-imagines, @thebloodyshelbys, @tsolomons, @blinder-secrets, @reveparade, @shelby-fanatic, @ta-ka-shi-ma, @psychkunox, @peakyxtommy, @captivatedbycillianmurphy,@dreamwastakenx, @lovemissyhoneybee @thomashelbyswhore

#katiesrequests #peaky blinders #peaky blinders oneshots #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagines #thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x shelby!sister #shelby!sister #katieswiplist

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keelywolfe · 3 years

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FIC: Just Swimmingly ch.7 (BAON)

Summary: Team Rescue is on the way...mostly. Look, they aren't good at names.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Established Relationships, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Edge had been on worse car rides, but not many. In fact, he could only think of one; riding in the backseat of his own car with Stretch unconscious in his lap, his life ticking away in decimals as Edge desperately clung to Blue’s instruction that he should think of healing magic as similar to making a hollandaise.

It wasn’t ridiculous if it worked and sitting here in this silent car, hyperfocusing on the mostly empty roads with Blue next to him radiating grim determination and Antwan in the backseat, Edge found himself thinking of hollandaise again.

The mental picture of the saucepan was strangely easing, keeping his turbulent thoughts occupied. In his memory, Blue’s voice was preternaturally calm as he reminded them that all the butter couldn’t be added at once because the mixture would break. Edge followed the direction coming from his phone as the voice assistant instructed him in its robotic way to turn left, (you need to add the butter a little at a time) turn right, (whisk it in), your destination is on the left.

It was only when he pulled into the empty parking lot as directed that the real Blue spoke, his high voice uncertain over the confidence of his imaginary twin, “Shouldn’t the security teams be here?”

“No,” Edge said disgustedly. He threw the car into park and pressed a knuckle between his eye sockets with painful force. “because this isn’t the right place.”

The dilapidated sign over the empty storefront declared with a spooky if faded cheer to be ‘Spirit Halloween’ but the only spirits in this place were the ghosts of customers’ past.

“My brother’s sense of humor,” Edge said, “he’s sending us a message. We went trick or treating behind his back and here’s his trick.”

“Of course it is,” Blue muttered, sinking back in the seat. His gloved hands were tight in his lap, a mirror to Edge’s grip on the steering wheel. “Papyrus probably warned him hours ago that I’d left home. He would have been ready for something like this.”

Edge picked up his phone, his bare thumbs moving with cautious swiftness over the screen. “Yes, he would. Which is why we’re going to follow the other tracker now.”

“Other tracker?” Antwan leaned over the driver’s seat to look at the new directions scrolling up the phone screen. His laughter was uncomfortable, more nerves than humor. “How many trackers do you have on your brother?”

Not as many as he has on me, Edge did not say. “On a normal day, only one.” Edge pulled back out onto the empty street, following the monotone drone of the GPS. “Sans set it up for me when Red pulled his little disappearing act after California and then reappeared to wreak havoc on my kitchen.”

“He did what?” Blue asked and Edge winced internally, barely keeping it from showing on his face. He wasn’t at his best, that much was certain, spilling secrets out in a spreading pool, but caring about that would have to wait. There were only so many directions he could pull his focus for now and Blue was hardly going to take out an advertisement in the paper if he heard anything he shouldn’t. A bit of gossip when it came to office relationships and the local scandals aside, Blue was one of their diplomats and he was well able to use appropriate discretion.

Hopefully, his definition of appropriate did not include asking Red any uncomfortable questions at a later date.

“It doesn’t matter. As I was saying, I usually have one tracker on my brother just in case he gets it into his head to face something he shouldn’t alone.” Edge didn’t quite roll through a red light. Better to not get pulled over by the Ebott police if he could help it, Embassy security certainly had enough on their hands right now without having to handle minor traffic violations. “Except, as I said, Sans gave it to me. Which means it’s only as accurate as Sans wants it to be and he has an unfortunate tendency to match my brother when it comes to deciding he knows what’s best for other people.”

A certain sourness fell over Blue’s expression as he nodded. As both a younger brother and a diplomat he was quite familiar with the ongoing irritation of overprotectiveness, even as he often did the same to his own brother.

“Which is why tonight I added my own tracker to Red’s jacket,” Edge said, “I would have followed that one first, but I was hoping not to reveal it so quickly if I could help it.”

Blue hummed thoughtfully. “You don’t think he’d be expecting that?”

“Of course, but I think he’d have a harder time finding and disabling it. Stretch made it for me.” The memory of his maniacal delight when Edge told him what it was for was briefly allowed, as well as his satisfied triumph when he presented Edge with a device that was the size of match head, tagged with near-microscopic hooks reminiscent of Velcro that were made to catch and cling to any fabric with a mere touch.

His design was with the Research and Development team now, minus the tracking device, as they worked to find a use for it that would allow for them to sell it to Humans, along with a dozen other things he’d created. So many of Stretch’s designs ended up that way, patents in which he was not named used as bargaining chips to help keep their coffers full. Stretch always declared that he didn’t work for the Embassy and that much was true. Instead, he worked for all of Monsterkind, that clever mind of his working to get them the funds they needed establish a place in this world. Only a handful of people even knew it and while Asgore could be foolishly soft-hearted on occasion, he wouldn’t considering paying a large ransom for any citizen on the street, even if they were married to Edge. Stretch was important past his twitter feed and it would be narrow not to suspect that these kidnappers somehow learned about it.

This time the tracker was leading them to the other side of town, down on the north side where the neighborhoods were filled with condemned houses and boarded up businesses. The only industry that thrived there were liquor shops whose windows were barred, manned by cashiers who spent their days behind a thick layer of bulletproof glass. His car was going to stand out like a sore thumb, but it couldn’t be helped. He wasn’t about to waste anymore time by stopping at the Embassy to borrow something more discreet.

At least he could worry less about reprisals from rolling through stop sign; the Ebott police presence on this side of town was minimal.

They made their way through the empty streets without incident. It was late even for the criminal element and a glance down the alleyways they passed showed them filled with shadows that could have been trash cans or curled up humans sleeping amongst them.

Some of the children from the Y lived on this side of town. Actually, most of them did and some of them might well be sleeping on the street right now…no. He couldn’t think of that at this moment, one thing at a time. He couldn’t afford to have his attention ping-ponging around inside his head, not when their destination was in sight.

This time, there were plenty of cars parked in a semi-circle around the building, floodlights pouring from their windows and flashers circling on their rooftops. Embassy security teams were made up of Monsters and Humans, and there were plenty out there in their uniforms. The Ebott police were going to throw a fit about jurisdiction, of that he had no doubt, but that was going to be a tomorrow problem for the Legal department and their FBI connections.

One of the security personnel approached the car as Edge pulled up, both hands raised in a gesture that could either mean for them stop or for him to offer surrender. Edge rolled down his window and he ducked his head inside the car. “Sir, your husband and his friend are both fine,” he said without preamble. “This area is closed off, you should—”

“If you even suggest that I should leave, you’re going to be reassigned to the elementary school playground for the foreseeable future,” Edge said evenly.

To his credit, the guard’s expression did not change. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir. I was going to tell you to park over on the north side,” He pointed to a clearing off behind the other cars. “Your brother is waiting for you up at the entrance.”

“Of course he is,” Edge muttered. “I’m sure we’ve kept him quite entertained with his version of hide and seek.” But he obeyed the direction.

He parked a fair distance away from the circle of the security vehicles and got out of the car, Antwan and Blue at his heels. No one else approached, the rest of the security team keeping a respectable distance away out of either direction from their leaders or simple self-preservation.

Standing near the warehouse entrance and out of the glare of the floodlights was Red, burrowed into his jacket with a Styrofoam cup in his hand and a cigar smoldering between his teeth. As if warned by his instincts or, more likely, through the curling earpiece that was stuck into his audial canal, Red turned to them as they approached. His grin was irritatingly knowing and familiar, pleased as a punch to have held them off long enough that everything was finished but the cleanup.

And yet, it was also such a comfort to see that smirk that Edge nearly went weak at the knees. He wouldn’t be smiling that way if Stretch or Jeff were hurt, even his brother’s sadism had its limits.

“what took you so long, you stop for coffee?” Red snorted. He held up the Styrofoam cup. “coulda brought me some, the shit they’ve got here’d give battery acid a run for its cash.”

“Yes, of course, we got stuck in the drive-thru at Starbucks," Edge snapped. “You’ll forgive me for not bringing enough for everyone!”

Before he could even demand a report, Blue went on past him. Parking lot gravel scattered under his booted feet as he stormed up to Red and swatted the cup from his hands. He paid no mind to the coffee sloshing out over their shoes, his small fists knotting into Red’s jacket front as he hauled him in close to snarl out, “WHERE IS MY BROTHER?”

Even through layers of forced calm, Edge could still appreciate the sight. It was certainly an unusual one. Blue was shorter even than Red and he wore no oversized jacket to give his small frame an illusion of bulk. The overwhelming visual was that of a tabby cat attacking the local tiger and if it were anyone else, Edge might have tried to intercede. It was possible he could have saved their lives, if not their limbs, had it been anyone but their innermost circle.

As it was, he tensed until his brother said mildly, “easy on the threads, baby blue, this’s my favorite jacket. my only one, too. they’re still upstairs. they ain't hurt, so we're lettin' 'em come down in their own time. ain’t no need to rush ‘em. think they needed a mo’ to catch their breath, s’all."

Blue didn’t wait for another word. He let go of Red and turned to the building entrance, running towards it. No one tried to stop him, though Edge noted with approval that one of the security team peeled away from the others to follow him at a discreet distance.

Antwan looked as if he was considering chasing after Blue, but he hung back. With the suspicious nature of a good lawyer, he asked Red, "If they’re fine, why aren’t you with them?"

"sweet that you think me bein' there would be some kinda comfort," Red snorted. "already saw 'em. head on up if you want, we've already cleared away the rest of the honey bun’s little scooby traps." Red offered them a vicious slash of grin. "your liability might need a new rating, he's damn creative when he’s got a hair laid across his ass just right."

That was enough for Antwan. He headed off in the direction Blue had, leaving Edge alone with his brother.

Edge waited until Antwan disappeared before he asked, low, "Where are they?"

Red only looked at him with mild reproach. “toldja, upstairs. what, you think i’d bullshit you on that?”

“I don’t mean them.”

Red was shaking his head before Edge finished. “nuh-uh, nope, not a chance. you ain’t gettin’ a look at those asswipes outside a courtroom. you’re keeping your toes behind the yellow line on this one, sneaking backstage ain’t happening, little brother.”

“I need to see—" Edge began heatedly.

“you fuckin’ don’t. you want to see and your wants ain’t on the list, not this time!” Red lowered his voice, “i get you wanted firecrackers and this is endin’ on a wet fart for you, but i ain’t explainin’ to the honey bun that i stood here and let you add a fresh shovelful of xp to your load on his account. so whyn’t you head upstairs now and go get your liability, huh? take him home and let us handle this, you can read the report tomorrow, yeah?”

Suspicion filtered through Edge’s strained temper, cooling it. Something of his brother’s little speech rang wrong to Edge; it was too consolatory towards him for their normal tastes, something was off here. Now that he was looking at it without his frustrations clouding things, there was also the matter of him leaving Stretch and Jeff alone; comforting presence or not, it was difficult to believe that Red would let them out of his sight unnecessarily. As shrewdly as he could still manage, Edge took a closer look at his brother.

Red did not have any LV but that certainly didn’t mean he had no trauma. His tells were subtle, unnoticeable to anyone who hadn’t watched them develop straight from the gutter. Eye lights slightly narrower than normal, his cigar clenched between too-tight teeth, the rare crackle of crimson magic arcing across his fingertips like a stray bolt of lightning.

There was something Red wasn’t saying, but there was no point in trying to fish it out now; he’d need better bait and Edge already had one in the net to deal with.

Better to leave it as it was. Even if the issue festered, his brother was unlikely to allow it to affect his work. It was difficult not to lay a hand on his brother’s shoulder, however briefly. Edge resisted the absurd impulse. It would not be appreciated. Unwanted concern was more likely to make things worse.

Instead, Edge nodded curtly and headed for the entrance. His boots clacked loudly on the cement floors. Security was milling in the hallways, others crouching over scorch marks and a strange overflowing mass of what looked like multicolored foam oozing down one side of the stairwell. Superfluous information, none of it mattered. He followed the subtle cues from the security personnel, the glances and occasional points that came without questions leading him up the rickety stairs to the second floor of offices and storerooms.

On the landing, a low sound caught his attention, a familiar voice crooning softly. Edge nearly skidded to a stop outside one of the rooms, looking in the open doorway to see the Swap brothers sitting together on the floor, holding each other tightly.

“hey, bro, shh, i’m okay. they didn’t hurt us, sans, i’m fine,” Stretch was saying. Blue was in his lap, clinging like the child he no longer was, and Stretch was rubbing a gentle hand down his brother’s back, leaving behind sooty streaks. He looked up, soft white eye lights catching on Edge still standing in the doorway. His cheekbones were wet, his wide sockets drowning in tears. Stretch scrubbed his face with the sleeve of a shirt that was not his own and managed a tremulous smile. "hey, handsome, miss me?"

He’d seen Stretch only hours ago, dressed in clothing stolen from Edge’s side of the closet and offering flirtatious kisses before walking out their front door. Now he was in baggy clothing that belong to neither of them, the shirt nearly hanging off his narrow shoulders and his bare legs sticking out from the bottoms of the too-short pants to leave the delicate bones of his feet filthy and exposed. All of him was filthy, his pale tears left clean tracks down his cheekbones and Edge did not know what Stretch had done to free them both, what he’d endured until he could., couldn’t begin to imagine it. Or perhaps he simply did not want to, and the precariously thin layer of Edge’s calm finally began to crack. All his desperate worries surged in through that first line of weakness to fill his face and then downward to soak into his aching soul.

"Don't—" Edge choked on the word, unsure what he was even going to say. Don't joke, don't dismiss this, don't ever leave me. He walked over and fell to his knees beside them, hardly feeling the warning jolt from his leg as he pulled them both into his arms rougher than he'd meant. Unnecessary, Stretch came easily, willingly, settling into his embrace exactly as if he belonged there, and brought his brother along for the ride.

"hey, i'm okay," Stretch said, pitching his voice for them both. He rested his forehead against Edge’s, settling a gentle hand on his sharp cheekbone with a sigh. "we’re okay, babe. it's okay."

"It is not okay by any stretch of the imagination,” Edge said hoarsely. His own hands were moving over Stretch, cautious of his lack of gloves even as he convinced himself that this was no dream, these well-loved bones were real. “And if you make a pun on that, you can ride home with my brother."

“wouldn’t joke about it, babe.” Then Stretch promptly made it a lie as he teased, “hope i get extra credit for not stretching things out, actually, ‘cause i sure didn’t get my ‘stay out of trouble’ badge tonight.”

“Pappy,” Blue moaned. His grip in the awful shirt Stretch was wearing twisted as if his disgust needed a physical outlet, “honestly, must you?”

Edge barked a laugh, hard and pained, but in his soul there was only giddy lightness. “No, you certainly did not. I would say any claim that you didn’t find trouble would be stretching things.”

Another groan from Blue was interrupted by a scuffing sound behind them. Edge jerked around, but it was only Antwan holding Jeff in his own tight embrace, whatever whispers between them too low to be heard. Edge hadn’t even noticed them when he first came in and the faint guilt from that was too small to be borne, already swallowed up in overwhelming relief.

Safe, they were both safe and unharmed, and Edge set his anger back, holding it in reserve. No matter what his brother thought, this was not over, and he would not be relegated to the injured group to recover, not this time.

But first, he was taking his love home.

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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tyongf-nct · 4 years

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tease - lee haechan (2.7k)

This had been going on for weeks.

Haechan was being a little shit, as usual. As one of a very small group of stylists assigned to SM’s group NCT 127, you each had a few members to take care of specifically. You were mostly in charge of styling Mark and Haechan’s hair, but sometimes you helped with other members if it was needed. You rarely had time for others, though, considering how much the two of them screwed around when you were trying to make them look stage-ready. Or presentable, at the very least.

Mark was older but that didn’t make him any less giggly, always squirming and so focused on chatting with the other members and staff that you practically had to chase him around backstage with your blow dryer. Haechan could be more subdued when you needed him to be, but at what cost? He teased you endlessly, always whispering cheeky things in your ear when you’d lean down to fix a stray hair or comb through it gently. You had been spraying a product like there was tomorrow, gluing his hair into place for the upcoming performance when he leaned in and murmured about how well those pants shaped your ass.

You snorted, slapping him lightly on the shoulder before going back to work. If you gave him the satisfaction of a comment then it would signify his victory, and there was no way you’d be giving him that. To be completely honest, the game the two of you had going was actually kind of fun. Haechan would push you to see how far you’d take his comments before either getting annoyed and giving him the silent treatment or blushing and stuttering your way out of the conversation. Usually you tried to remain expressionless, not wanting him to know how much his words actually affected you, but it was getting harder the more daring he got. These days, he was brushing a gentle hand across your cheek or pulling his fingers through your belt loop when you leaned in close to fix his hair.

It wasn’t as if it was completely inappropriate. You were the same age as him, the youngest member of the styling team, but you didn’t feel like you had a lot to prove. You had the necessary training and no one took you any less seriously just because you were younger. You were surrounded by young idols, too, so you felt pretty comfortable around everyone. The only thing that was inappropriate was Haechan’s constant flirting, to the point where it would distract you from your work because you were thinking of him slamming you up against a wall when you should have been doing his hair for the concert.

“You know, after the show, we could hang out, just the two of us,” Haechan murmured, low and deep in your ear. You pulled away from his face, satisfied with your work, and rolled your eyes.

“In your dreams, big boy.” He laughed, eyes glistening brilliantly and golden skin warm with affection. He was annoyingly beautiful, even before the makeup artist would get to do her part. You smirked, shaking your head with a chuckle and getting out of the way to let the rest of the team finish him up. You made your way over to Mark, who was chatting animatedly with Jungwoo, to nag at him for messing up his hair that you had done earlier.

“Would it kill you to be gentle with it for just a few moments?” You groaned. He laughed, smiling sheepishly, shrugging while Jungwoo laughed at him, pointing a mocking finger. You hurriedly fixed the damage, spraying some pieces back in place and fluffing it up a bit. It was rather dry from being dyed recently so you made a mental note to have him deep condition later tonight.

“I promise I’ll be careful. And I’ll tell Haechan to do the same,” he said, ears red. You smiled and nodded, leaving him to finish getting ready. For the rest of the time backstage as the boys waited to perform, you circled the room like a hawk, fluffing and spraying and making sure they looked perfect for the fans, not a hair out of place. You only took a seat when they left the dressing room to go on stage, huffing out a tired breath. Your work wasn’t finished though, because you and the rest of the team still had to clean up the mess you’d made during the process of getting the boys ready. Nine boys generated a lot of products and tools, and the tables of the dressing room looked like a tornado had come through to wreak havoc. About half an hour went by before everything had been packed away in bags, trash thrown out, and supplies loaded back into the van the stylists took separately to leave. You waited backstage for the boys to come back after their show, sweaty and exhausted but still needing to take some pictures for the group Instagram. You had deliberately kept a few tools out to touch them up, fixing Mark before quickly combing Haechan’s sweaty hair back into place.

“How did I do?” Haechan smirked, meeting your eyes. You were dangerously close to his face, leaning in close so you could spray down a stubborn piece of hair. You fought to keep the smile off your face, chuckling under your breath while trying to ignore the way your stomach fluttered. Despite being so sweaty, he smelled amazing, and looked even better. In your opinion, he always looked the best after a performance, where adrenaline and the nerves of being in front of an audience had done him justice. His skin was tanned and flushed, the ultra light foundation starting to rub off his skin. His eyes were dancing with the high of performing, and he was always in the best mood after singing for his fans.

“I didn’t watch the performance,” you said, sighing as you set the comb down. That would have to do; the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead certainly wasn’t helping but he still looked good enough for a photo.

“Too bad. I was excellent, really,” he sang. You rolled your eyes, patting him mockingly on the shoulder.

“Sure you were, buddy.”

He scoffed, obviously offended at the nickname.

“Don’t emasculate me!”

You cackled, turning away from him to clean up the small area in front of you.

“Y/n,” Haechan spoke with a lower tone, quiet enough so that only you could hear it.

“Hmm?” You were too nervous to turn back around, truthfully. The feeling in the pit of your stomach grew, nerves and hormones taking over as thoughts of what he always teased possibly coming true.

“Why can’t we just move past this stage? I’m tired of the teasing, and I can tell by the way you’re blushing that you are too,” he said. You wanted to scoff, roll your eyes, something. But you knew he was right. He was perfectly aware of how his teasing words and gestures made you feel, especially considering you weren’t exactly good at hiding it.

“And where would we go?” You couldn’t believe your own words. Were you actually proposing that the two of you ran off to some room and did it? By the surprised look on Haechan’s face, he wasn’t expecting that answer either.

“W-well, um, we could...wait. I know a place,” he stated firmly. Thoughts of getting lectured by your superiors, or even fired ran through your mind, but the confident look in his eyes and the darkness of his pupils clouded your judgment.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?”

“Okay, let’s go. You’re right, I am tired of the teasing. In fact, you’re driving me fucking insane,” you voice shook. Haechan’s jaw dropped, probably unable to believe he had actually convinced you, but he closed it almost immediately. He took your hand, not even announcing the two of you were leaving and walked quickly out the door. No one questioned you both, or even seemed to notice you were leaving, the chatter and excitement of backstage after a show too loud to make anyone realize what was happening.

Your hand felt sweaty against his, which was warm and tight and sure. He practically dragged you out, his grip on your hand secure as he led you to an unmarked door somewhere backstage. It was sort of dark and you weren’t really paying attention anyway, the dirty thoughts and Haechan’s figure in front of you fogging your mind.

He opened the door, checking to make sure no one was looking, before pulling you inside after him. He fumbled to find the light switch for a moment, succeeding after the white fluorescents blinked on brightly. He backed you up until you were flat against the door, breath coming out in short huffs as his eyes trailed up and down your body.

“God, I’ve wanted this for so long,” he groaned, placing his hands on your hips. He leaned in, stopping when he was just a few centimeters from your face. You could feel his hot breath fanning across your skin, his lips close enough to yours that you tingled with nerves.

“I know,” you smirked. He laughed quietly, shaking his head before meeting your eyes, making sure you were comfortable. You smiled softly, nodding once before he crashed his mouth to yours. You tried not to moan right away, the relief of finally kissing him so strong it crashed into you like an ocean wave. He opened his mouth, tongue sliding against your lips until you granted him access. He kissed you deeply, groaning against you when you slid your hands under the front of his shirt, feeling his smooth stomach. His skin was hot to the touch, the heat of the moment and leftover excitement from the performance flushing his entire body. He broke the kiss for only a moment, enough time to slip off his top before grabbing your face with both hands to smash his lips against yours once more.

You reached around the curve of his shoulders, nails digging in as he slowly unbuttoned your top. He moaned lightly when he felt the curve of your breasts inside your bra, kneading them roughly before moving his lips down to suck at your neck. His teeth brushed against the underside of your jaw, pulling a whine from you as you slid your hands down his back. You fumbled to unbutton his pants, eventually working the zipper open and palming his already hardening bulge. A throaty groan escaped him, his chest pressing against yours as you reached your hand inside his boxers.

You stroked Haechan slowly, working him up to a full erection as he licked and nipped at your throat, surely leaving little marks dotted along your skin. You briefly wondered if anyone was questioning where the two of you were, but the thought fled from your mind as Haechan slipped a hand down your pants that had somehow become undone in the short amount of time you had been pumping his cock.

You gasped, surprised at the sudden contact of his digits against your slick core, but welcoming the sensation all the same. The two of you got each other worked up with your hands, gasping and cursing against the other with your heads buried in each other’s necks.

“Oh my god,” you moaned as Haechan slipped a finger inside of you. His palm rubbed against your bundle of nerves as he opened you up, groaning at the way you slid your thumb over the slit of his cock.

“Y/n, this is great and all, but I’m going to fucking come in my pants if we keep at this,” he panted. A nervous laugh bubbled out of you, interrupting your strokes as you suddenly let go, nodding in agreement.

“Same.”

“Will you just let me fuck you?” He breathed. Your mouth dropped open, though you weren’t sure why you were shocked at his words when this is exactly what you had been hoping for over these last few weeks. You guessed just hearing the words, actually having his hand down your pants in the moment was finally hitting you for the first time.

“Yes. God, yes, please,” you whined.

“Finally begging for me. I knew I’d win,” he grinned, and you slapped his bare shoulder.

He cackled, pressing his lips firmly against your own once before lowering his pants to his knees. You decided to take yours all the way off, the tight jeans too constricting for what was about to happen. You were dripping with arousal by this point, the feeling of it pooling in your panties so uncomfortable you took those off as well, tossing them somewhere behind Haechan. He moaned softly at the sight of you naked and bare, reaching around your torso to unhook your bra and massage your breasts. His thumbs flicked across your nipples, sending ripples of pleasure across your skin as you shuddered. Haechan lifted you by the underside of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he teased his tip against your folds. You moaned, throwing your head back against the door as he sucked in a breath when he entered you. It was smooth and easy, like your body had been prepared for this for quite some time (which, honestly, it had).

“Holy shit,” his voice was thick, coated with desire as he pushed in and out of you at a quickening pace. The slide of his length inside of you sent sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine, your eyes rolling back as Haechan fucked you against the door. His breath came out in short huffs, sweat dripping down his temple as he clenched his jaw in concentration. His eyebrows were furrowed but the rest of his face was relaxed, consumed in the pleasure of finally being inside of you.

“I can’t believe you’ve been teasing me for so long and now you’re going to fuck me so slowly,” you groan, wanting to poke at his pride. He grunted, annoyed at your comment before adjusting the angle and pounding into you even faster. The sound of skin slapping echoed through the room as pleasure crashed into you, overwhelming you completely. You let your mouth hang out, moaning his name as he buried himself inside of you. The drag of his member against you felt euphoric, your walls clenching tightly as the mixture of your arousal and his precome made the slide that much easier.

“Is that better?” He panted. You moaned and nodded furiously, relishing in the way he lost himself in you. He kissed up your neck, sprinkling little praises onto your skin as the two of you reached your highs. You warned him by gripping onto his firm shoulders, letting your head rest back against the door as he thrusted into you, letting you ride it out as long as he could manage to hold back his own.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” he whined, pitch upping a level at the end of his sentence. You tighten your core around him, the last bits of your orgasm fading out just as he was finishing. He thrusted in once, twice more before pulling out, stroking himself as he came with spurts of warm, white liquid all over your bare stomach. You moaned at the sight of it, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as your face heated at the thought of being covered in his come.

“Oh my god,” he groaned, watching his orgasm drip down your abdomen with dilated eyes. His chest heaved with exhaustion, both the performance for his fans he had just finished as well as the one that just happened for you probably making his body extremely tired.

“Let’s get cleaned up and then head back, they’re definitely wondering where we are by now,” you suggested, and he tore his eyes away from your stomach to nod, meeting your eyes. A cheeky smile crossed his features, making you shake your head with a laugh before giving him a signature slap on the shoulder.

“Let’s go, asshole.”

#haechan #haechan smut #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #nct #nct 127 #nct dream #lee haechan #lee haechan smut #tyongf-nct #tease #tease tyongf-nct

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tuiccim · 4 years

Text

Santi (Part 3)

Pairing: Bucky X Reader

Words: 4538

Warnings: Fluff, flirt, Smut

Summary: While the team is still gone on their mission, you (Santi) and Bucky get called on for your own.

Santi Masterlist

You managed a few hours of sleep. When you wake up you see the knife dried with some of your blood on the nightstand. You slip on some shorts and take the knife with you to the kitchen, wash it, and then start making coffee.

"Good morning." You hear from behind. You turn to see Bucky in a tank and grey sweatpants looking rested.

"Good morning. How did you sleep after…?" You leave the question unfinished.

"Best I've slept in a while. A long while. Took a lot of effort to get out of bed." He smiles and your heart flip flops. He looks so content.

"I'm glad."

"What about you? You seem like you're still tired."

"I'm good. I've never really been able to sleep well." You shrug. Bucky notices his knife on the counter, picks it up and looks at it, then looks at you. You raise an eyebrow, "Thought you'd want it back."

"Yeah. It's my favorite." He twirls it in his hand.

"I figured. Being under your pillow and all." You smirk, "Boys and their toys."

"I stabbed you." You hear the sadness in his voice.

"Buck, it's fine. I'm fine. And that stays between us."

He looks at you but his face is still sad.

"Besides," you continue, "Nat's been telling me I needed a good stabbing lately. Course, I don't think that's exactly what she had in mind." You laugh darkly.

Bucky's face is unreadable as you turn to pull two mugs down for coffee. When you turn back around you are blocked by a wall of Bucky. You look up into his stern face. "It was just a joke, Bucky. You can laugh."

"Why'd you pull away last night?"

You knew exactly what he meant but something in you wanted to be coy, "I didn't. What do you mean?"

"Fine. Why'd you pull up, then? Kissed my forehead."

You bit your lip, "I… you...I had just imbued you. It can be confusing. For everyone."

"I wasn't confused." Bucky was staring a hole through you and at that moment his eyes flickered to your mouth for just a moment.

"But I was." You said quickly, "I wasn't sure if it was the emotional high or the fear from the nightmare. My empathic abilities have wreaked havoc in the past. I want to be sure a kiss is about me, not just the heat of the moment. And I...I couldn't tell."

"What about right now?" He says. Those blue eyes challenging you while still remaining soft. You could scarcely breathe. Bucky had moved closer and closer as you had talked. There was barely an inch between your bodies. His face hovered just above yours.

FRIDAY chimes in, "Agent Delarosa."

You take a deep breath. "You're timing sucks, FRIDAY." Santi says, keeping eye contact with Bucky

"My apologies. Priority One communication."

Separating yourself from Bucky, you smooth your hair before saying, "On screen."

Maria Hill's image appears, "Agent Delarosa. Sergeant Barnes."

"Agent Hill." You say suspiciously, knowing only one reason could be behind a call from her. You had a grudging respect for Maria but the two of you had never been overly friendly.

Hill begins immediately, "A top priority mission has come up. We believe we've found a Hydra base containing operations intel. Security looks minor. The two of you should be able to clear it. I've sent the information to you. Good luck."

You glance back at Bucky who nods affirmation of acceptance. "Yeah, sure. We'll go. Sounds like fun." You say sarcastically to Hill.

"Is there a problem, Agent?"

"Captain Rogers is gonna be pissed."

"Can't be helped. Check in. 36 hours"

"You got it, kid."

"Ag…"

"FRIDAY, Screen off." You cut Hill off. Doesn't hurt to remind her you have 20 years more experience occasionally. You turn to Bucky, grabbing him by the tank, you pull him flush against you. Looking up into his incredibly blue eyes you say, “Conversation to be continued?”

“Yeah, Doll.”

“Good. We've got a mission. Suit up. Quinjet, 20 minutes."

"You're kinda hot when you're all business." Bucky surprises you by saying.

“Only kinda?” You say with a smirk before heading to your room to change.

15 minutes later you board the quinjet. Bucky is already there and has begun preflight. You stow your gear and head towards the cockpit. Bucky looks up and gives you a slow once over. He’s not seen you in your tactical gear before which include a tight suit, boots, holster with guns at your hips and a selection of knives. You give a slow turn to ensure he gets a full view.

“Do I pass muster, Sergeant Barnes?” You say with hands on hips.

Bucky’s eyes say it all but his gravelly voice is even more telling. “Definitely hot when you're all business."

You let out a small giggle. "Let's hit it."

Once in the air and the autopilot set, Bucky relaxes in his chair. You look over to find him staring at you. "Nervous?" You say.

He rolls his shoulders, "I'm…I'm not sure."

"I'm always a little nervous." You say looking at your tablet. "Hopefully, the intel is right. It doesn't look like more than half a dozen guards. The base is small."

"Do you have a schematic?"

"Yeah. Looks like our best point of entry is to go through this side door. It leads to the center of the base and connects to the main corridors."

"What is the main target?"

"Computer system at the center of the base. Then a general sweep for any unknowns. We should be able to turn and burn. Probably beat the team back. Speaking of, I should call Steve. He's gonna flip."

Bucky gives you a look that clearly says better you than me. You dial Steve saying under your breath "Don't pick up, don't pick up, don't pick up." Bucky chuckles as Steve picks up on the third ring.

"Hey, Santi."

"Hey, Steve. How's the mission going?"

"So far, so good. We are still on track to be home tomorrow. How is Bucky doing?"

"Hey Buck, Steve wants to know how you're doing."

"Tell the punk I'm fine." Bucky grumbles good naturedly.

"He says he's fine, punk." You laugh.

"Sounds like the jerk." Steve says.

"Yeah, so, gotta call from Hill."

"What? Why?" You can hear Steve's mind go into overdrive

"Quick mission. We are heading to grab some intel." You breeze.

"What!?!" Steve's voice is hard.

"I heard that all the way over here." Bucky smirks from the cockpit.

"Yeah, he's heartbroken that I'm taking your virginity on this one." You sass to Bucky and hear Steve practically choke through the phone.

"Santi!" Steve says in his aggravated tone. "Why did you accept?"

"Oh, yeah, like there was a way to turn it down. Plus, Barnes is the one that accepted." You say.

"Me?" Bucky reacts.

"You nodded. It's all your fault" You call to Bucky before turning back to the phone, "He takes full responsibility, Steve. Steve?...Steve I can hear you pulling your hair out over the phone. Stop!"

"What's the mission?" Steve asks.

"Don't worry I'm taking it easy on the first timer over here." You say grinning.

Bucky pipes up, "Hardly my first mission, Santi."

"I'll be gentle with him, Steve. I know how hard the first time back in the saddle can be. I'll return him without a scratch." You give Bucky a shit eating grin while he shakes his head.

"Santi!" Steve's aggravated voice.

"Small base. Turn and burn. Intel sweep. No biggie. Chill. I got your boy. I'll check in tomorrow. Bye."

"Be safe." Steve grouses.

"You got it, Cap." Ending the call, you turn to Bucky. "That wasn't so bad."

"That mouth of yours." Bucky chuckles.

"What about it?" You say innocently.

Bucky looks at your smile for a minute before his eyes flicker up to yours. "It's gonna get you into some dangerous situations."

"Oh but it gets me out of so many. What can I say? I have a very limber tongue." You say with a knowing grin.

"I look forward to testing that out." Bucky shifts in his chair.

"Uncomfortable?" Your eyes linger on his thick thighs.

"Let's just say the space is getting a little tight in here."

You chuckle, "Well, as much as I would love to continue this conversation we best get back to work. We need to go over everything and agree on tactics."

"You got it, Doll." Bucky shifts again in his seat but turns his attention to the tablet you're holding. Two hours later you're in the back of the quinjet triple checking the supplies. Finding everything in order you head back to the cockpit. "How are we looking?"

"Closing in." Bucky says.

"You've got the landing coordinates in?"

"Yes."

"Is stealth ready?"

Bucky eyes you, remaining silent.

"Sorry." You say taking a deep breath. "I start to get keyed up and tend to micromanage."

"It's cute, Doll. Everything's ready. Is it me making you nervous?"

"No." You say with a shake of your head.

"Because I know we've never worked together before."

"It's not that. It's just me. I'm always like this before a mission. I'll mellow out by the time we get there." You flash him a nervous smile while bouncing on the balls of your feet. Might as well let him see your quirks now. "You should have seen me the first time I was on mission with Clint and Natasha. They were like a well oiled machine together and here I am a bundle of nerves. I think Nat might have tied me to a chair if Clint hadn't been there. Nat will tell you the story at some point but she says before we got there it was like I'd never been on a mission before and it wasn't until after we landed she saw the seasoned vet come out."

"Well, we're almost there. It’s a trek to the base once we set down."

"Everything's ready." You felt the quinjet adjust trajectory and knew it must be approaching the landing space. Bucky turns back to the controls and watches as the jet approaches a clearing in the heavily wooded area. As soon as you land you both begin securing the jet and then carefully step out onto the terrain. After ensuring the area is secure Bucky nods his head in the direction you need to move and you follow.

After a while you spot the base and make out the entrance you had indicated on the schematic. One guard stood sentry by the post. Looking over to Bucky you see him take aim at the guard with his sidearm but you hold up your hand with a slight shake of your head. Instead you take out a small taser disc he immediately recognizes. However, Bucky looks at you, shakes his head and motions with the firearm. You stare at each other for a minute. A battle of wills going on before you fling the disc at the camera over the door. The guard looks up surprised and Bucky takes his shot. Together, you carefully make your way to the door.

"Thought we should get rid of the camera before the guard." You smile slyly at him.

"I was going to take them both out with one shot." He grins at you for just a moment.

"Right." You say while rolling your eyes.

Bucky hauls the guard up and places his thumb on the door scanner. It flashes green allowing your entrance. Inside it's quiet and dim. You take the lead and slowly make your way down the hall. Nearing the main corridors you spot another camera and fling a second disc at it. You round the corner and find yourself suddenly flying through the air slamming your right shoulder into the opposite wall. You fall to the ground stunned. The behemoth that threw you looks down at you but suddenly drops as a bullet tears through his skull.

"Santi, are you alright?"

"Fuck. Are there any more coming?" You struggle to your feet.

"No. Are you alright?" Bucky says insistently.

"My shoulders dislocated. I need you to put it back in place." You grimace as your arm dangles.

"Shit." Bucky eyes your arm.

"I'll be fine. Just gotta get it back in." You grab one of your knives and bite down on the grip. Nodding to Bucky, he takes your arm and expertly snaps it into place. You internalize your scream as much as possible. After a few moments you take the knife from your mouth and put it back in place, breathing heavily. Bucky has one arm holding out his gun to protect you and another holding you steady as your breathing returns to normal. "Fuck, that hurts everytime."

"Shit, I'm sorry." Bucky says.

"It's fine. It'll be completely healed in another minute." Rolling your shoulder, you wince and grab your gun. "Two down. Let's go."

Bucky nods and takes point. You make quick work of the remaining guards but remain on alert. When you enter the center of the base you cross quickly to the computer bank and begin work.

"Know what you're doing?" Bucky jokes.

"Vaffanculo." You smirk.

"The mouth on you." He laughs.

"This is gonna take a few." You murmur as you work through the intel. Bucky remains vigilant while examining the rest of the room.

"Got it." You say pulling the thumb drive from the port. You click through the security feed to see if any threats or areas of interest pop up. "Bucky, there's something in storage. Off the southwest corridor."

"Let's go." He says. Both moving quickly you head to the storage room and find it lined with boxes. Bucky breaks the first one open and you look inside.

"This is all Chitauri weapons and armor."

"You sound disappointed." Bucky says.

"Would've preferred something interesting." You shrug.

"What should we do with it?" Bucky asks.

"Destroy it." You say. "We'll hit the base from the quinjet. Take the whole thing out."

"You sure?" He says.

"Standard order for finds like this. We don't want it and we don't want anyone else to have it." You head out the door and Bucky follows. Back at the quinjet, Bucky fires everything up while you set coordinates for the base destruction. The quinjet lifts off and once you reach a fair distance you see the base become a ball of fire.

"Turn and burn." You say as you and Bucky watch it for a moment. Bucky sets the autopilot and you both sit back in the pilot chairs to relax for a few minutes. You turn to him, "Congrats on your first mission."

"How's the shoulder?" He asks.

"Did something happen to my shoulder?" You ask mockingly.

"You heal but it still hurts, huh?" Bucky looks over at you.

"Yup." You say quietly.

"Is there anything you can't heal?"

"Not that I've found yet. I've been shot, stabbed, poisoned. Even took a bullet to the heart and still healed." You shrug. "Never been shot in the head though. That might be the one thing that can end me. I don't know."

"Let's not test it out." Bucky raises an eyebrow at you.

You laugh, "Not planning on it. I'm starving. You want some food?"

"Yeah. That'd be great."

You head to the back of the quinjet to rummage around for the protein bars and two plums you had thrown in your pack. Bucky smiled as you handed him two of the bars and a plum.

"Sorry it's not a nicer dinner." You say as you take your seat again.

"It'll work for now. Maybe I can take you to a nicer dinner?" Bucky blushes a bit as he looks over at you.

"You asking me on a date?" You smile at him.

"Yeah, Doll. You accepting?"

"Yes, sir, Sergeant. I'd be delighted." You grin at him.

"Steve said the team will be back tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"How about the next day?" Bucky cocks an eyebrow.

"I like the way you think, Sargeant. Give time for everyone to debrief and settle." Good God, looking at the man was making you hot. You question if you've ever been as attracted to someone. Not jumping him was gonna be hard. Your tongue darts out to moisten your lips and you bite down on your lower lip as you look into his eyes.

"Doll, don't do that."

"What?"

He just stares at your mouth for a minute.

You smile wickedly. "This?" You repeat the action and he groans."Why, Sergeant, are you having impure thoughts about me?"

"Doll, I've been having impure thoughts about you since I saw you bite into that plum when we first met."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Me, too."

"Really?"

Quickly, you maneuver yourself onto your knees in your seat and, leaning over the console, pull Bucky in for a kiss. Your mouths meld and tongues dance as fire rips through both of you. When you manage to pull away, you're both breathless for a minute. "Really, really." You whisper against his lips.

"That mouth of yours is gonna be the death of me."

You grin, "Don't worry I know mouth to mouth." You both chuckle as you pull together for another kiss.

After a minute you pull away and sit back down with a stupid grin on your face. Looking at him you're a little scared of the feelings welling up in you and whether Bucky was feeling the same way. You had gone from 0 to 100 quickly. Was it too fast? The old temptation to slip into his mind and decipher his emotions was strong and you had to fight it. It wasn’t right. Not without his consent. It was a violation. You didn’t care when it came to the enemy, but it was a matter of trust when it came to friends. He was staring out the windshield as you sat there pondering and studying his profile. He is so beautiful. Take it as it comes, Santi, you remind yourself.

“You gonna fall asleep on me? “ You joke.

“I’m a little too worked up to sleep.” He says with a wink.

“We have a little over an hour left til we’re back. I’m gonna try to get the mission report done if you have no objections.”

“Doing the paperwork for the mission? Nope, not gonna object at all.” He grins.

You laugh, “You’ll still have to read and sign it.”

“No problem.”

You get to work and by the time the jet is descending Bucky has reviewed and signed off on the report. He jokingly comments on your omission of your shoulder dislocation and glowing description of his work.

“I figured I’d make you look good since it was your first mission as an Avenger.” You smirk.

Once the jet lands, you grab your gear. Going over to the console on the wall, you insert the thumb drive and upload the intel that was gathered.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., call Maria Hill please.” You say.

“Yes, Agent Delarosa.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. responds.

“Hill.” Maria’s face is on screen.

“Hey, kid!” You smirk.

“Agent Delarosa.” Maria deadpans.

“Intel is uploaded. Mission report is filed. That must be a record.”

“Good work, Agent, Sergeant.” Hill nods at both of you.

“Seriously? That’s all you got? Come on, Hill, you gave us 36 hours and we finished in less than a third of the time. Gimme a little love. You know you want to.” You sass Hill and despite herself you see a little smile form.

“Maybe next time. If you stop referring to me as kid.” Maria sasses back.

“You should have more respect for your elders, young lady.” You blow her a kiss and wink as you say, “F.R.I.D.A.Y., screen off.”

Bucky looks as if he is holding back laughter. You smile at him, “Okay. I’m ready to get out of this gear, have a shower, and find some real food. How about you?”

“My shower or yours?” Bucky raises an eyebrow.

“Nice try.” You smirk as you head to the elevator.

“You’re breaking my heart, Doll.” Bucky smirks back.

Forty-five minutes later you meet Bucky in the kitchen and together make a quick dinner. After eating, you both settle on the couch.

“Whatcha wanna watch?” You ask.

“Something funny?” He says.

You smile, “I was thinking the same thing. Have you ever seen Bad Boys? It’s a mix of comedy and action.”

“Sounds good to me.”

You start the movie and within minutes Bucky has grabbed you by the waist to pull you to him. You lean into him and curl your fingers around his metal ones. It feels so right and easy. Bucky seems to love the movie. He laughs and enjoys the action sequences. Occasionally, he murmurs a question in your ear about different references. You had to pause for a minute to explain to him about the show Cops and the song Bad Boys. He seems to appreciate your willingness to explain and patience. When the movie ends, you look over at Bucky to find him staring at you.

“What?” You say smiling. He doesn’t answer but leans in for a kiss. You respond immediately. His lips are so soft and you lose yourself in the feel of them. He shifts closer to you and you feel his hand on your waist pulling you in. Your tongues seek each other almost desperately. Arching into him, he groans. When you finally separate moments later you are both breathless and staring into each other's eyes.

Bucky is the first to speak, “You know you’re pretty amazing?”

“Yeah? You’re pretty amazing, too.” You press a soft kiss to his lips. Standing up, you hold your hand out to him and he follows you to the elevator. As you hit the button for your floor, you say, “The team will be back tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna have a sleepover on our last night alone?” You look at him feeling nervous and bite your lower lip.

The elevator doors open and Bucky backs you into the hallway wall. “What did I tell you about biting your lip like that?”

“Do it whenever I want to get my way?” You smile at him.

He kisses you. A hard stamp on the lips. “It’s, um, it’s been awhile since i’ve had a sleepover.”

“I’ll go easy on ya.”

“Not too easy, Doll.”

You lead Bucky to your room and pull him in for a kiss as you back both of you to the bed. He brings his hands up to cup your face and pulls away to look into your eyes. "Are you sure, Doll?"

Wordlessly, you lift your arms up so he can easily remove your shirt. He tosses it to the side and pulls his own off. Gently, he lays you back on the bed and melds his mouth to yours. Your hands travel over his hard chest feeling the muscles ripple before making their way to his waist where you pull his body even closer to you. He groans into your mouth as he lifts you slightly to unfasten your bra and slip it off your arms. You lay back with your arms above your head as he stares down at you.

"You're gorgeous, Doll. All of you." He says before lowering his head to take a nipple into his mouth. You suck in a breath as he lavishes attention on your breasts.

"Ohhhh...Bucky," you whisper as he slowly moves his hands to the waistband of your leggings and pauses, "yes."

He pulls your leggings and panties off as you reach to undo his pants. Pushing his pants down his legs he is already hard and you’ve barely touched him. You put a hand to his chest and push him down onto the bed. You devour him with your eyes and slowly slide hands down to his cock. He hisses with jaw clenched when you touch him. Unable to resist, you wrap your lips around his head and swirl your tongue. His hands go to your hair as he urges you on. You take him as deep as you can and listen to his moans as you work your tongue against him. Wrapping one hand around his base to work him and using the other to palm his balls, you continue to work him.

“Fuck, Doll. That mouth of yours.” Bucky groans as he gently pulls you away and devours your mouth with his. His hand trails down your body and he presses against your core feeling the slickness. “So wet for me already.” he says as he presses kisses along your neck. His fingers slide across your slick folds skimming your clit before moving down to press a finger into you. Your breath hitches and you whimper at the sensation. Encouraged, Bucky adds a second finger while using his thumb to press your clit.

“Bucky.” You moan his name as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Doll, want inside you so bad.” Bucky says,, “Can’t wait.”

“Yes.” You say quickly. Bucky removes his fingers and rolls himself on top of you with a searing kiss. You feel him line up with your entrance and then agonizingly slow he pushes in.

“I thought your mouth was going to kill me, but you're so tight. So wet.” Bucky groans.

You slide your hands to his ass and press him forward encouraging him on. “Feels so good, Bucky.”

Once he fully buries himself he stills for a moment pressing his forehead to yours. “You okay?”

“So fucking okay.” You wrap your legs around him and encourage him to move. He begins to slowly work himself in and out. Each thrust nearly takes your breath away. You feel the pleasure coiling inside of you. “Harder.” you whisper to Bucky and it’s as if he needed the permission to let go. His hips begin to slam into you. “Yes, yes.” You can’t stop the moans escaping your lips. Bucky’s fingers dig into your sides as he continues thrusting.

“You’re so perfect, Doll. So fucking perfect. I’m so close.” Bucky groans into your ear as he fastens his lips to the side of your neck. His words propel you over the edge. Your body clenches around his cock and you cry out his name. His hips stutter as he reaches his own release with a moan.

Bucky rolls to his side and pulls you to him pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Was I gentle enough?” you tease.

“No, I think you broke me.” He laughs. “That was uh, the first time in a while for me. I didn’t mean to be in such a hurry but you got me so worked up, Doll.”

“Hey.” You kiss him. “I didn’t mind. You got me all worked up, too.”

“How long before I can get you worked up again?” He asks, nuzzling your ear.

“You just say the word, Sergeant.”

“Now.”

“Thank God.” You push him up against the headboard and straddle him. He seals his mouth to yours. Feeling his already growing arousal against you, you know you're in for a long, satisfying night.

Part 4

187 notes · View notes

kayluh1915 · 3 years

Text

Beautiful People

Paring(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 5,378

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Medication Discussions, Insecurities, and Panic Attacks.

You and Pedro have been secretly dating for a few months now after a chance meeting. You both agreed that it was time to reveal your relationship to the public and chose to do so by accompanying him at The Oscars, but your anxiety does a great job of making you think that you don't deserve it.

DISCLAIMER!

This story is based on the song Beautiful People by Ed Sheeran & Khalid, but this IS NOT a songfic. It just gave me this vibe of Pedro walking down the red carpet with someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong and he comforts her by saying he doesn't really belong either and proceeds to list why they're better off because of it. I dunno, It just sounded sweet.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I might be able to make you laugh if I’m lucky.

Enjoy!

(PS: Pepe is a real person. He was my Spanish teacher my first semester of college... and yes, he really went to Cincinnati every Friday to gamble)

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The frigid February air was like icicles on your skin, sending a full-blown shiver down your spine as you hurried out of the Science building and towards the dining hall. It was nearly noon and you’ve had only had a banana and a bottle of water this morning, so lunch sounded pretty great right about now… maybe a cup of hot cocoa as well.

The dining hall was about a three-minute walk from the Science building, more than enough time for the cold to seep through the layers of your coat and deep into your bones. The possibility of a cup of cocoa turned into an inevitability, you running for the hot beverage machine as soon as your student ID was swiped.

You sat at your usual spot, hanging your backpack on the back of the chair before taking a greedy sip of the hot drink. The warmth was a godsend, the sugary beverage warming your icy hands with a pleasant hum tumbling from your lips.

“You make noises like that in bed?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your warming daze. It was your roommate and closest friend, Lauren. You snorted at her remark, almost spitting out a sip of your drink.

“I thought you had Spanish class at noon?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, gambling day.” Like you, Lauren was a music student. It was how you had met nearly four years ago. Like most music students, you both used the extra humanities credits you had earned in high school to bail you out of the required foreign language credit until university. You were doing fairly well so far, but it was because you had a decent teacher. She wasn’t the best, but she was alright.

Lauren’s was just… something else.

On the first day of class, he told his students to call him “Pepe” because he didn’t do the “formal shit.” He also said that there would never be a class on Friday’s because he goes up to Cincinnati to gamble with his buddies. Why he didn’t just put down that his classes were only on Monday and Wednesday were beyond you.

“Yeah. Whatever, though right?” Lauren continued. “I’m not complaining about one less day of class.” You smirked mischievously.

“No, but your Spanish is…” Lauren scoffed, only causing you to laugh harder into your cup.

“Bitch, you shut the fuck up. You can’t speak the damn language either.” You shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, but at least I’m learning more than you are with Pepe.” Lauren groaned.

“Fuck you. Come on, let’s grab some grub.” You stood up and grabbed your backpack, throwing away your empty drink cup to grab something to eat. You settled on your usual favorite and sat back down with Lauren who had somehow already made it halfway through her plate.

“God, slow down.” You teased as you hung your backpack back on the chair.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Cut a bitch a break.” You shook your head, digging into your own plate, but at a much slower pace. You both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying your meals as the indecent chatter of the surrounding students and meme music playing from the jukebox continued on.

“So,” Lauren said, breaking the silence as she sat down her drink. “What are you doing this weekend?” You froze at her question but played it off the best you could. Any hint of hesitation would send her into a frenzy of questions that you weren’t prepared to answer.

“I’m going in to see Mom. Maybe stop by my Mamaw’s too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

“Damn, that’s too bad. Devon invited us over to his Oscar watch party tomorrow night. Figured you might want to come along since you’re into that sort of thing.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of The Oscars. Just play it cool… don’t. fucking. panic.

“Normally I would, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Mom. You know how she gets when I don’t come to visit for a while.” Lauren nodded her head in understanding, knowing full well of how your Mom was after living with you for two years.

Little did she know that you had just seen your mother last weekend.

“I understand, boo. I’ll let him know you can’t make it. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I’m done here. I packed my stuff this morning so I could just go. Trying to beat the traffic as much as possible.” She nodded in understanding.

“Well, I hope you have a good time with your Mom. Say hi to her for me, will you?” You internally sighed a breath in relief. How your big mouth managed to keep him a secret all this time let alone this was beyond you, but you managed to pull it off somehow.

“Yeah, sure.”

After you finished eating, you hugged Lauren goodbye and went back to your dorm long enough to drop off the books you didn’t need and pick up your suitcase. You went through your mental checklist one last time and locked your door behind you as you left.

You unlocked your car and threw your stuff into the backseat, making your way towards the interstate as soon as you left the college.

Home was about a two or three-hour drive down south, but where you were really going was about a 40-minute drive north. You put on some music as you cruise down the interstate, your nervousness slowly increasing the closer you got to your destination.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel, you bounced your left knee furiously, and you were biting your lip… pretty hard. You thought about reaching into your purse for the “take as needed” anxiety medication your psychiatrist prescribed you but decided to hold off on it a little longer. Maybe it’d taper off when you got to the airport.

It didn’t.

You had flown before, but that had been years ago when your micro home town had some kind of festival thing and gave free airplane rides. This commercial airline stuff was something entirely new to you which was already nerve wreaking, but the unexpected bustle of such a smaller airport made it worse.

Weeks before when you first booked the flight to Los Angles, you did as much research as possible to make sure that you knew the “norms” and guidelines of all the airports you were going to since there were no direct flights available. You were as prepared as anyone could be, but you were still extremely nervous and all the foot traffic only made it worse.

You went through security without any qualms and took a seat to wait for your flight to begin boarding. You pulled out your phone and texted your Mom and Lauren before someone walked up to you in your peripheral.

“Excuse, miss?” You looked up from your phone to come face to face with an older gentleman. He looked to be in his early 50’s with salt and peppered hair and a kind smile. He asked you your name and you confirmed with a nod.

“Sorry to disturb you, but your private flight is prepared to depart whenever you’re ready, Miss.”

...Excuse you, what?

“P-Private flight? But I-... I paid for an American Airlines flight.” The man nodded.

“Yes, but Mr. Pascal has sent a private jet to retrieve you. He was fairly insistent to make sure that you boarded.” You sighed heavily. You told him that a two-stop economy flight that you paid for was more than fine, but the thought of you doing anything like a normal person seemed to bother him for some reason.

“Okay. I-I guess I’m ready to go then.” The man smiled.

“Of course, Miss. May I take your bags for you?” You hesitated.

You had never been waited on like this before and you weren’t quite sure how to feel or respond to it. You were perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff and this guy probably wasn’t getting paid enough to carry some lucky college student’s stuff, but was it rude to say no even if you did so in a polite manner? So, you just agreed and handed him over your suitcase and backpack.

You followed him outside and over to a small commercial jet, a woman who looked to be around her mid 30’s standing right by the entrance of the aircraft.

“Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m Kendall Bishop and I’m your captain for today. If you’ll go ahead and take a seat and buckle your seat belt, we’ll depart shortly. I do ask, however, that you remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until Mr. Clements informs you that it is safe to move about the cabin. Do you have any questions for me before we begin our descent?”

You smiled politely at her and shook your head.

Upon entering the cabin, you were at a complete loss for words. It was easily the fanciest thing you’d ever seen. Leather seats, stocked alcohol shelves, an endless assortment of snacks, a TV, even a fucking bed of all things. The man, Mr. Clements you assumed, gestured towards the seat closest to you. You sat down and buckled your seat belt like you were told to do.

Mr. Clements then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, gesturing for you to take it.

“Mr. Pascal requested I hand this to you as soon as you board.” You took the envelope out of his hands, looking down at it with a curious gaze. On the back of it had your name scribbled onto it in familiar handwriting. You’d know it anywhere after reading so many letters from him.

“Please enjoy your flight and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” You thanked him with another nod, turning the envelope around and tearing it open. The plane prepared to take off as you read.

Mi Abeja,

I know you wanted and paid for a normal flight, but the academy offered to fly you to me privately last second. I was going to ask you if you were okay with it, but you were in class and your phone was off and I had to let them know something before my table read this morning. You work and study so hard and deserve to be pampered so I told them yes. They reimbursed what you paid for your ticket and I’ll give that to you once you get here.

I hope the unexpected change didn’t spike your anxiety too much. I know you’re nervous about this whole thing to begin with and I probably just made it worse. I’m sorry if I did.

I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you land at LAX.

Love you,

Pedro. <3 <3

Your heart soared at his words, leaning back in your seat and looking out of the nearby window just in time to watch the plane lift up from the runway.

________________________

Four hours later, Mr. Clements informed you that you would be landing shortly. Your heart leaped up in your chest as you put your phone back into your backpack and fastened your seat belt.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him and you were nearly vibrating with excitement by the time the wheels touched down on the runway. Mr. Clements offered to take your things again. You still weren’t sure if it was rude to turn him down or not and you didn’t want to ask and risk looking like a moron, so you agreed and handed over your backpack.

The captain opened up the door and exchanged pleasantries with you as you stepped off the plane, but you barely heard her over the pounding of your own heart. As soon as you looked up from the ramp, you saw him. He was there just like he promised he’d be, standing by his car and wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses all while smiling at you with that blinding smile.

Your sneakers barely touched the tarmac before you were sprinting for him. He held out his arms for you and made a small sound when you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his chest. One of his hands caressed the back of your head, holding you to him tightly as the other one held on to your waist.

“I’ve missed you so much, Abeja.” He muttered against the crown of your head. You let go of him long enough to reach up and kiss him, tangling your hand into his dark curls. “Did you have a good flight?” He asked after you pulled away.

“I did. I was a little nervous at first, but I’m okay now.” Pedro gave you a saddened look.

“I’m sorry. I know it was unexpected and didn’t mean to hike you up, I just figured yo-” You put your hand over his mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. I’m just… not used to this… any of it.” He placed a gentle kiss to your fingers, taking your wrist into his hand and gently taking it off of his mouth.

“Please tell me you at least ate something.“ You nodded.

“I ate with Lauren before I left for the airport. She actually invited me to an Oscar watch party this guy named Devon is hosting. I played it cool just like we practiced, but it took everything in me not to freak out.” Pedro giggled, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Isn’t she in for a surprise?” You barely smiled, nodding gently. You’ve been trying not to think about it, but the idea of you being on display to the entire world made your stomach churn and your knees weak. You were just a first-generation college student from the middle of nowhere, yet here you are in the arms of Pedro Pascal about to walk down the runway of the most prestigious award show in less than 24 hours.

“... Yeah.” You eventually answered. Pedro noticed the change in your demeanor and frowned, placing a kiss on the wrist he was still holding and caressing it gently with his thumb.

“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know? We can always go with plan B.” You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no! I-I want people to know… I just… all so new.” Pedro smiled at you sympathetically, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if it ever becomes too much for you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” You look up into his mocha gaze, the butterflies in your stomach making you forget about your self-doubt if only for a few seconds.

“I promise.”

________________________

That evening you were curled up with Pedro in the hotel bed, empty take-out containers discarded onto the nearby nightstand as you watched The Shining together. He was fully engrossed in the movie, his fingers idly playing with your hair. You had tried to focus on the movie. You really did, but you’ve seen the damn thing a million times. Laughing at memes on Reddit sounded more appealing so that’s what you were doing.

“You know, I really miss you when you’re not with me.” Pedro said after a while. You looked up from your phone and up at his face.

“I miss you too. Music school sucks and I can’t cuddle Lauren… well, I can but it would be awkward.” Pedro laughed, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

“Tomorrow, our stylists will be here around noon. I know you’re going to be nervous all day and will probably avoid eating, so I’m going to make sure you get up with me and eat a proper breakfast.” You groaned quietly.

“You won’t let me sleep in? Even on a Saturday?” You fake-pouted. Pedro tapped your nose gently with his finger.

“Not when tomorrow is such an important day. I don’t want you nervous on an empty stomach.” You both went back to what you were doing for a minute.

“You did bring your medication, didn’t you?” You hesitated before nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll have something in case it gets too intense. Getting you to take it will be another story, though.” You didn’t say anything, favoring instead to raise up from your reclined position to swing your leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands instantly went to your hips, gently caressing them with his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Abeja.” He said after a while of looking you over and running his hands over your body. You smiled at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. It was pretty standard as far as kisses go, but when you pulled away you were both looking at one another with a fiery intent and slowly went back in for another. This one searing and far more passionate.

Pedro groaned deep in his throat as your tongues collide, the kiss deepening far beyond your original intent.

You weren’t complaining.

________________________

Pedro’s alarm going off scared the living hell out of you. You had been awake since 4 am, trying your best to go back to sleep, but it just never happened. When you finally gave up around 6:30, you grabbed your backpack and sat at the desk the hotel provided and did your weekend homework. You hadn’t realized that you were that engrossed in it until his alarm buzzed you out of it.

He groaned quietly and reached over to silence it, rolling back over and reaching out to the other side of the bed looking for you. When he noticed that you were gone, he raised up from the sheets and looked around the room. His hair was an absolute nightmare, sticking up in various directions as he stretched out his back and yawned loudly.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in.” He teased after he found you at the desk.

“You said you were going to wake me up early. Figured I might get some work done.” Concern then donned on his brow.

“Honey, how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you lie. “I wanted to get some work done so I just got up at my usual time.” Pedro got out of bed and padded over to you, rubbing your shoulders and placing a kiss atop your head.

“You work too hard. You should take a break while you can.” You lolled your head back, Pedro’s hands rubbing your shoulders feeling absolutely amazing.

“I’ll do whatever you say as long as you keep doing that.” He laughed, kissing your cheek and heading to the bathroom.

________________________

You didn’t want to question the professional, you really didn’t. But after the third layer of concealer, you just had to.

“That’s a lot of concealer.” The makeup artist laughed.

“I know, I’m sorry. Use some cream for those bags next time and I promise you won’t need as much.”

You didn’t speak after that, allowing the hair and makeup artist to finish you up while they gossiped back and forth with each other. They made other side comments like that to you here and there. They weren’t necessarily rude so you couldn’t really say anything, but they did little for your already rock-bottom self-esteem.

The artist put a dark shade of lipstick on your lips, making a triumphant noise when she finished.

“Didn’t have the best canvas, but you look fabulous sweetheart! Smile with your mouth closed and you’ll be a knockout!” The makeup artist and hairstylist gathered up their things, leaving you sitting there in your robe staring at the floor and hoping they leave fast.

When they finally left, you got up from the bed and walked over to the full-bodied mirror. You showed your teeth and started looking over them. You never thought they looked too bad. Sure, they were crooked and had some spacing, but they were okay. Braces were expensive and playing a brass instrument with braces is a death sentence for lips.

What if you were wrong about them looking okay all this time? Maybe you should have taken out that loan and a semester off to fix your teeth…

Your stylist came in shortly after. He was quieter than the others had been and much nicer which you were thankful for as you changed into the white dress they had picked for you. When you came out, the stylist smiled and hooped.

“You look gorgeous!” You finished off your look with matching jewelry and a clutch purse, sitting down on the bed to put on your heels.

“It took me forever to find a pair of acceptable wedges for you, sweetheart. I don’t know why you didn’t just tough it out for one night, but hey. I get it. Country girls don’t like heels and that’s okay! It worked out.”

Again, not necessarily rude… but damn.

________________________

You were waiting in the lobby for Pedro to come out, bouncing your leg nervously and trying to remember not to touch your eyes or bite your lip because of the makeup. When you saw him step off the elevator, your breath caught in your throat. His hair was slicked back and his facial hair neatly trimmed, the black velvet suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly.

“Wow…” He muttered, looking you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning, Abeja.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You replied, playing with his bow tie.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tie it back if it comes loose.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine… I’ll unwrap my present later.” Pedro’s own breath caught as you winked up at him. He cleared his throat and composed himself, offering you his arm.

“Ready?” You swallowed and nodded, taking his arm for him to escort you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

________________________

You were in line for the red carpet, the flashing cameras of the paparazzi already blinding and you were still pretty far back. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising up but nothing happening. Pedro took your shaking hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing how tense you were and only grew worse the closer you got.

“... fine.”

“Plan B’s still an option if you need it, Abeja. You have your medicine you can take too.” You shook your head, looking back at him to flash him a smile.

“I’m good.” You could tell that he didn’t buy your bullshit. Not even for a moment. He didn’t say anything, though, opting only to lift your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be right there beside you the entire time, honey. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need to leave, you let me know.” You nodded at him, accepting a kiss from him before looking back out the window of the limo.

Your turn came up way sooner than you would have liked, the greeter opening up the limo door as soon as the car stopped and allowing Pedro to step out into the public eye. The photographers went nuts, the flashing lights and screams from fans intimidating you more than you thought they would.

What the fuck were you thinking? You’re just some tired ass music student. You don’t belong here with all these people.

You almost chickened out and stayed in the car but when Pedro turned towards you and offered his hand you took it anyway even though your mind was screaming for you not to. Just the gentle touch of his calloused hand on yours grounded you enough to carefully step out of the limo, making sure that nothing happens to your dress.

You could hear the sounds of the crowd die down for a moment as they all started muttering to themselves. Your hand was shaking in Pedro’s larger one, the photographers gasping as soon as they saw your face. They started taking pictures faster than they ever had. The bombardment of flashing lights blinded you for a moment, but you adjusted to them quickly.

Pedro let go of your hand and put it on your back, gently leading you where you’re supposed to go.

“Okay?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. You nodded. You weren’t comfortable in the slightest, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. While both of you posed for pictures, people from the group of photographers said a lot of things to both of you. Some were kind, others were funny and got a good laugh out of you. There were also a few who were very rude, but they had been pushed aside by the others.

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting… but you were glad it was over.

________________________

You were standing aside checking your phone while Pedro did an interview with some of the press. He had offered you to be with him, but the red carpet had been more than enough fame for you. Your phone was on “do not disturb” mode, but you could still see all the notifications coming in. Your Mom, Dad, Lauren, and other friends bombarding you with messages basically asking what the fuck. You didn’t have the time to reply, so you didn’t open any of them.

Once Pedro was done with his interviews, he escorted you into the main hall where he introduced you to some of his friends and colleagues along the way. You considered it an honor to meet the people most only ever dreamed of, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Someone else should be here, not you.

When you found your seats, Pedro offered you his hand. You took it and allowed him to seat you before he took his next to you and wrapped his arm around the back of the seat. The show started shortly after.

________________________

“And the Oscar goes to…” You held onto Pedro’s hand tightly as they opened up the envelope, your shaking hands encased in his. He had told you when he had been nominated that he didn’t expect to win it, but you could tell he had some hope as he tensely watched them read the card.

“Pedro Pascal.” You jumped up with Pedro, hugging him tightly as the audience broke out in cheers.

“You deserve it!” You told him, breaking away to give him a quick kiss. You watched him run up stage and accept the golden statue, walking up to the microphone with a few chuckles as he looked over the award.

“Wow, this is uhhh… this is incredible. Truly amazing.” He started. “I’d like to thank the Academy for this honor, my Mom and Dad who worked hard to raise me right and who supported me. My brother and two sisters for being there for me, mi Abeja for loving me unconditionally, and just… so many others. There are so many people in my life who have helped me get to this milestone and if I were to thank all of you, we’d be here all night. I love you all so very much and this truly… a dream come true. Thank you.

The crowd stands up and cheers loudly. You wanted to, but you were too busy trying to make sure your makeup doesn’t run down your face with a tissue from your clutch. Eventually, you give up trying and decide to go to the bathroom just to make sure everything still looks fine.

Your makeup looked just as flawless as it had before. You wish you would have known that the artist had used waterproof makeup so you could’ve properly celebrated Pedro’s achievement, but oh well. While you were there, you decided to use the bathroom. You didn’t have to go that bad, but might as well take care of it while you’re here.

While you were relieving yourself, you heard two other women come in.

“-ld for her. He needs to settle down with someone like us and around his age. Not some college student.” You froze solid when they realized that they were talking about you.

“I know. She isn’t even that pretty. Did you see her teeth? Do they not have braces where she comes from?”

“For real. Her body’s not that great either. Looks like she comes straight from the shack or something.”

“Wonder if that’s where he found her?” They both giggle.

“Either way, she doesn’t belong here.” You knew they were right, but you just couldn’t bare to listen anymore, pulling your underwear back up and fixing your dress after you flush the toilet.

You then run out of the bathroom, not even looking to see who the women were. It didn’t matter, though. They were right. You should have never came here and you couldn’t stay any longer.

You walked back to your seat and gently tugged on Pedro’s sleeve.

“C-Can we go… Please?” You ask, your voice shaking just as much as your hands. Pedro got up instantly when he saw the look on your face, grabbing his trophy, coat and your clutch. He didn’t ask questions as he placed his hand to the small of your back and began to escort you out of the theater.

By the time you got back into the limo you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The voices around you sounding like water as your vision became black around the edges. Oh God, is this what feels lie to die? You couldn’t die. Not now! You had so much to do, so much t-

Something extremely cold suddenly touched your face, the blackness around your vision fading slightly as you looked up to whoever had put something so damn cold on you.

You were instantly met with the warm eyes of your boyfriend, concern laced on his brow as he gently dabbed a cold washcloth over your face. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pounding of your heart, but it eventually calmed down enough to where you could begin to hear him.

“There we go, bee… that’s it sweetheart. Nice and easy.” Your breathing slowly calmed down, Pedro cradling you in his arms as your panic attack faded.

“I should have never come here…” You muttered. “I don’t belong here. All these fancy dresses, the flashing cameras, nice cars… I don’t deserve any of this.” Pedro placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that, Abeja. You deserve this just as much as anyone. And as far as not belonging, trust me when I say I don’t either. And, frankly, I’m fine with that. All of these designer clothes, the mindless gossip, the broken homes, being surrounded by so many but still alone? That’s not really a life worth living. The world of Beautiful People is a lonely life, one that I would rather not live.”

You wasn’t sure what to say, so you just didn’t say anything, curling up as close as you could to him.

He made you take a dose of your anxiety medication when you got back to the hotel, taking it with a swig of water before laying down and curling up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, the sounds of his breathing and the gentle feeling of his hand caressing your own shoulder lulling you.

Right before you doze off, you heard him say:

“No matter what any of them has said, you’re perfect the way you are and deserve everything.”

________________________

You wake up the next morning still wrapped up in his arms. You lay there for a while just talking and enjoying one another’s company before he finally got up to use the bathroom.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, turning off “do not disturb” mode for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

Your phone was overloaded. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, everywhere was flooded. You didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, you just give up trying to put a dent into anything and returned Lauren’s list of missed calls. She answered on the second ring.

“You tell me every little detail, you sneaky bitch. And I mean everything!”

#kayla's ramblings #pedro pascal #reader insert #my fanfiction #beautiful people

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airis-paris14 · 4 years

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Human Nature Part 5

Summary: T’Challa has a secret but he’s tired of loving her in secret.

Warnings: None

A/N: Only one more part to go. Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list. I’m also working on a complete master list of all of my works so be on the lookout for that soon. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Looking out, across the morning

The city's heart begins to beat

Reaching out, I touch her shoulder

I'm dreaming of the street

-Michael Jackson “Human Nature”

T’Challa Udaku was madly and blissfully in love. He’d never felt anything like this and he knew that if Naomi were to leave him, he would never find anything like it again. Which is why he was staring at his reflection in a mirror, his fingers running over the fabric of his button-up. M’baku and the other groomsmen had left to check on the venue a few minutes ago. He knew they had gone because he probably looked like a nervous wreck pacing the floor of the hotel penthouse, but he didn’t care. He was grateful for the peace. He shouldn’t have been nervous. He and Naomi were already married. They had done the hard part. They’d already said their ‘I dos”. The church was just for show, but it seemed like his stomach had missed that piece of information. A block away from this room he knew that Naomi was in her room, probably pulling on her wedding dress as he spoke.

Of course, he hadn’t seen it yet. She had made sure to hide any and all information about her attire from her husband. She and Shuri went as far as to encrypt her purchase information in the palace’s internet server so that he couldn’t find out where she bought the dress from or who made it. T’Challa laughed at the memory. He’d spent hours trying to guess her password. He and Shuri knew that he could have hacked the information if he really tried, but he knew that the dress was something Naomi wanted to surprise him with so he left the information password protected. The king stared at the midday sun over the Mississippi River. He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was almost time to leave. He took another glance at himself in the mirror and smiled. Today was the day that Naomi would no longer be a secret, she would be made his wife in the eyes of the world.

“T’Challa, it is time my friend,” M’baku’s voice boomed through the door. With a final look in the mirror, he grabbed his suit jacket and headed out of the room.

A block away at the Roosevelt hotel, Naomi Udaku was losing her breakfast and it was not because she was nervous. Not that nerves weren’t contributing to this bout of sickness, they definitely were. Hunched over the toilet, she knew that one of the best decisions she had ever made was having her hair pulled back into a sleek bun for her wedding. She reminded herself to thank Beyonce for the suggestion. “That’s it, let it all out” Gabrielle rubbed her friends back as Naomi sat back away from the toilet. Tasha stood at the door with some ginger ale and nausea medicine. “I can’t believe I’m pregnant on my wedding day,” the blushing bride grumbled as her oldest friend handed her the medicine and soda.

“Well, technically you weren’t pregnant on your wedding day,” Tasha shrugged from the doorway. ”Shut up” Gabrielle and Naomi answered simultaneously. “Don’t shoot the messenger,” Tasha grinned while Naomi finally pulled herself off of the bathroom floor. “Hardy har har,” Naomi deadpanned, “Seriously though, I can’t even drink at my own toast.”

“First off, stop whining,” Gabrielle smiled, pulling her friend in for a hug, “We are in one of the most expensive hotels in New Orleans, about to live out your dream wedding. Thousands of people are lining the streets to catch a glimpse of you in your dress. You should be on top of the world right now baby girl.”

“Exactly you’re marrying the love of your life and he’s a king.” Tasha grinned at her friend. “You have pulled together one of the best weddings anyone could ask for! You look drop-dead gorgeous and you aren’t even in your wedding dress yet.”

“ So finish that bottle of ginger ale so we can get you dressed and ready to go.” Gabrielle reassured her friend. “And know that we bought you some of that sparkling cider you like. Red grape, white grape, and white grape with peach. That way it looks like you are enjoying all of the delicacies of a non-pregnant bride.” Tasha added, “We got you.”

Naomi smiled, her hormones swirling up and out as tears. “I love you guys,” she cried. “This is why we saved the mascara for last,” Tasha mumbled. Gabrielle elbowed her before hugging Naomi, “You know we love you too. Now let’s get you in this dress before we’re late.”

Naomi laughed and quickly finished the drink. She brushed her teeth and her friends double checked to make sure everything was put away. She and T’Challa would stay together in the Ritz-Carlton while the bridesmaids enjoyed another night in this penthouse at the Roosevelt.

While the bride waited for the medicine to kick in she smiled hearing the squeals and pitter-patter of little feet running around outside of the bedroom in the living room. She assumed that her niece and friend’s daughter were wreaking havoc on the rest of the bridal party awaiting her entry. A few minutes ago everyone had finished getting ready and was lounging around until it was time for Naomi to get dressed, until Naomi had run out of the room sick for the second time that morning. She knew that everyone in the room would eventually wonder why she was so sick today, but Naomi chose to focus on the little girls. The two flower girls Carter-Giselle and Rumi had bonded instantly when they meet yesterday morning at the airport. When Naomi had originally called and asked Beyonce’ and Rumi to be in the wedding, the singer had joked that Rumi and Carter would be the best of friends before the whole weekend was over, it seemed that she hadn’t lied. The two had become thick as thieves and she knew they would have a hard time being separated tomorrow afternoon. Watching the two had made her start to imagine what she and T’Challa’s child would look like. What would they like? Would they be as friendly and rambunctious at the two little girls rampaging through the living room?

The sound of Beyonce’ and her sister in law, Porche, calling both of their daughter’s names at the same time snapped Naomi out of her daydream. She drank down the rest of the ginger ale and went to grab her gown out of its bag. “You can’t get dressed without your bridesmaids,” Tasha teased as she and Gabrielle walked out of the bathroom with their makeup touched up. “I’ll get Bey and Porche.” Gabrielle peeked her head outside of the door and waved the other two women into the bedroom. “It feels so surreal,” Naomi smiled, her fingers running over the beading. “It’s definitely real,” Tasha squeezed her friend in a hug.”

“Not too tight, we don’t need a repeat of earlier,” Gabrielle teased as she walked in with Porche and Beyonce.”

“Definitely not, we’ve got a schedule to keep, chop chop!” Porche clapped at the bride. The small friend group chuckled. “So can you step into the dress or do we gotta go over your head?” Beyonce asked as she lifted the gown off of the bed. “We gotta go over my head, it laces up in the back. Naomi slipped off her robe while her friends lifted the gown up and over. “Dang girl, you couldn’t get a normal dress with a zipper?” Tasha grunted as the group maneuvered the dress over Naomi’s shoulders. “Corset backs are better for curvier bodies, they give more support,” was Naomi’s muffled reply as the tulle and flounce at the bottom of the dress enveloped her. “And they make your body look good from any angle,” Porche added in. Bey cosigned an “Amen” as the dress finally slipped into place over the bride’s head. The room went silent as Proche deftly laced the back of the gown and tightened it. Her best friends cheesed at Naomi as a tear slipped down her face when she turned to look at herself in the mirror. The bridesmaids wiped a few tears of their own before fawning over the gown. “Fawn Giselle Elizabeth Udaku you look stunning,” Gabrielle smiled pulling her friend in for a hug. “I remember the first day on campus, when I was moving in and we met at the sign-in table and found out we were roommates. Now look at where we are, my name’s gonna go down in history as one of the luckiest bridesmaids on the planet.”Gabrielle teared up as Naomi laughed a little and dabbed her tears away.

“Okay, no crying on the dress y’all” Tasha fanned her eyes to keep her tears at bay. Beyonce laughed and pulled Naomi in for a quick hug as well. Porche and Tasha followed suit. A knock on the door interrupted the hug-fest. “Everything alright? Y’all left these two old ladies and poor Shuri out here with these children, and we wanna see the bride.” Naomi’s mama called through the door. The woman erupted into laughter, “Coming mama,” Naomi yelled back dabbing at her eyes again. Gabrielle helped Tasha to clip the veil into place and after a few more tears, hugs, and dabbing of makeup the group entered back into the living room of the penthouse.

Ramonda and Naomi’s mother smiled at each other locking hands as they stared at the young queen in all her glory. Shuri’s grin stretched for a smile across her face, “He’s not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you in that dress.” The fitted silk gown hugged Naomi’s curves perfectly. The silk was covered in beading that created roses and swirls all down the gown until it flowed out in a soft wave along the bottom of the dress. A train spilled out for ten feet behind the bride as she walked into the living room. Carter-Giselle, Naomi’s four year old niece, and Rumi Carter gazed at her in awe. “You look really pretty auntie,” Carter-Giselle giggled running to hug her. Rumi followed suit hugging Naomi’s other leg. Watching the bride receive hugs from the flower girls had the entirety of the wedding party on the verge of tears. The bridal party packed everything up and headed down into the lobby of the hotel. Beyonce and Gabrielle helped to carry Naomi’s train and veil while the other three women watched and helped the flower girls down the hall.

Naomi could hear the roar of the crowd outside of the hotel before she even stepped out of the elevator. “Holy-” Tasha started as the mass of cheering people became visible outside of the Roosevelt’s glass doors. Naomi waved at the crowds as her friends, the videographer, and the photographer fussed with her wedding gown. After taking a few photos together in the lobby, the all-white vintage Rolls Royce limos arrived outside of the hotel. Tasha and Gabrielle made sure to gather Naomi’s train, with Shuri and Porche helped hold her train up as the party headed out of the doors. Smiles erupted on the entire party’s faces as they climbed into the large limo. No one was immune to the infectious energy that surrounded them in the crowds. After watching her mother and mother in law climb into the Rolls Royce in front of them with the flower girls Naomi’s nerves hit full force. Her smile grew by the second as the cars pulled away from the curb and headed up to the church. Progress was slow because the streets were choked with people hoping to catch a glance of the new royal. Naomi waved back through the untinted windows. This was more than she could have dreamed. Seven months ago she had married T’Challa at a last-minute courthouse wedding. Only the women present in the car with her even knew it had happened. She knew that one day she wanted a ceremony, but she could never have guessed that the ceremony would look like this.

“I can’t figure out who they’re cheering more for, Bey or you Naomi,” Tasha teased as everyone chuckled. “I’m pretty sure this crowd is for Naomi. No one knew I was gonna be here,” Beyonce laughed. “But how is the bride feeling?” the singer smiled as she reached for Naomi’s hand. “A little nauseous, overwhelmed, but excited too,” Naomi laughed back. “Just breathe, that’s what you told me remember?” The singer smiled. Naomi nodded thinking back to that day, “Just don’t breathe too hard or you’ll pass out,“ Naomi smiled back. The limo slowed to a stop and everyone sucked in their breath. “Welp, back out into the fray,” Tasha pretended to pull up her gown as the driver got out and headed around to open the doors of the limo.

The crowd’s roar crescendoed as each bridesmaid stepped out of the car. Porche first, followed by Shuri, Beyonce, Tasha, then Gabrielle. The women all waved to the crowds lining the street and the square. Naomi took a deep breath, then allowed Gabrielle to help her out of the car. The cheers grew to deafening. Naomi smiled and waved as her close friends helped to lay out her train and long veil. Once everything was in order, security opened the doors of the cathedral Naomi’s father walked out to stand next to his daughter. The bridesmaids were going to walk down the aisle unescorted, with Porche walking Carter Giselle, and Beyonce walking her daughter Rumi. With everyone stationed and in order, the organ began to play and the procession began. With each bridesmaid disappearing into the cathedral Naomi’s stomach began to twist. While awaiting their turn to tackle the aisle Naomi’s father squeezed her hand. “You look, beautiful baby girl, you’re gonna knock his socks off.” Naomi’s father kissed her cheek. “Thank you daddy,” Naomi kissed his cheek back and the doors opened for them to walk in.

Two hours later, with many giggles, tears, kisses, and laughter, Naomi Udaku walked out of St. Louis Cathedral a twice-married woman. Before exiting the cathedral Naomi and T’Challa stopped in the foyer grabbed their custom second line umbrellas from a footman at the door. The roar of the crowd sent energy through them. Naomi fingered the feather and beads lining her umbrella. As T’Challa smiled at her. “Did I tell you that you look breathtaking in that dress, T’Challa murmured kissing her forehead then her lips. “Only a million times your highness,” Naomi giggled. “And I’ll tell you a million more times,” he promised. “I have a surprise for you,” Naomi smiled up at him, his hand finding a way into her own. “Can I guess what it is?” The king asked. “No, you wouldn’t be able to anyway.”

“Can I know now?” The king whispered leaning in to kiss his wife. “No,” Naomi murmured back into the kiss. “How about now? T’Challa leaned in this kiss lingering for a little while longer. The looby of the cathedral filled with “Ooohs” and whistles as the bridal party and groomsmen filled in around them. Each of them now holding customized handkerchiefs embroidered with T’Challa and Naomi’s names and wedding date. “Aye, y’all save all that nasty stuff for later, we got kids in here now,” Kimbe, one of T’Challa’s friends from college teased, gesturing towards his son, the ring bearer, and the flower girls. Everyone broke out laughing as Naomi hid in T’Challa’s chest. T’Challa pulled his bride in for another kiss as some guests began to file into the lobby as well.

The sound of the brass band began to float into the cathedral and everyone started to get excited. T’Challa nodded and a footman opened up the doors to the street and the bride and groom stepped out to the roaring crowd once again. After sharing another quick kiss for more pictures, they raised their umbrellas and the party began. The crowd pushed up against the barriers as the bridal party danced past. Everywhere around them, people started dancing and waving handkerchiefs to join in the couple’s celebration. Naomi looked behind to find her bridesmaids and groomsmen laughing, singing, dancing, chanting, and smiling contagiously. Jay, Sir, and Blue Ivy had joined Beyonce and the Rumi. She carried Rumi on her hip as Bey and the toddler waved their handkerchiefs. Her niece was dancing with her father on his hip. Shuri looked up and waved as she danced along with Tasha, Porche, and Gabrielle. Queen Ramonda was dancing with Naomi’s parents, and the people of New Orleans joined in from behind the security and barriers. Naomi let out a loud laugh as she gripped t”Chala’s free hand in her own. “I love you, he smiled.

“I love and adore you,” Naomi grinned. The paused to share another kiss Confetti and rice began raining down from behind them. The couple stopped kissing and watched as their bridal party laughed and showered the newlyweds. “I couldn’t have imagined a better wedding,” T’Challa grinned. “Me neither. It’s beyond perfect, but wait until the after-party. If you liked this dress, you’ll love that one.” Naomi grinned as they continued to dance towards the Ritz-Carlton. “Can I have my surprise then?” T’Challa smiled. Naomi paused and smiled up at him, she glanced at the hotel about a block in front of them. She knew that once they entered the doors, they’d be pulled away for wedding pictures along the river bank and the city. They’d be in a limo with the rest of the wedding party, and then they’d be separated again to change for the reception. Now was the last time they’d be alone until later tonight. She smiled to herself and pulled the king in for a kiss. Cheers erupted from the crowd and the wedding party. She pulled back and whispered against his lips, “I’m pregnant.”

T’Challa’s mouth dropped open and Naomi let her head fall back in a loud laugh, her arms now wrapped around his neck. Before she knew it she was up in the air being spun around. No this wasn’t the wedding she had imagined. Her and T’Challa’s love playing out on a world stage was not something she could have guessed. But with her husband spinning her around, the crowd around them screaming and dancing, and her friends and family dancing through the streets with them, she could not have imagined anything better than this.

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @nyneebee @hutchj @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @strictlyashley @afraiddreamingandloving @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @gorjiss @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @yoyolovesbucky @derangedcupcake @builtalongthewayside @ilcb7 @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @dopegalkk @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @shesakillerkween @waitingonafriend @faatassbitch

#tchalla fanfiction #tchalla x reader #tchalla fanfic #tchalla black panther #tchalla #t'challa imagine #t'challa x reader #t'challa x oc #T'Challa x black reader #T'Challa #tchalla imagine #bpapfics #humannaturefic

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ohnopoe · 4 years

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It Can Wait | Inspector Sullivan

Ship: Inspector Sullivan x Reader Prompt: “It can wait until tomorrow” Word Count: 1.6k+ Tagging: @hawkerz12

He was too confident of his plan. He should have known that from the start, should have known the way everything had been falling together so easily would have meant he was doomed to failure. But his usual doubts and fears always had a way of slipping away when you were nearby, and somehow you had managed to instill in him something he had missed for far too long- hope.

The suit he wore was the perfect mixture of casual and formal, a light shade of creme that you had commented on before, loving the way it fit him so perfectly, yet gave just a hint of a side only you truly knew; a more relaxed man, and not just the Inspector the town had come to know.

Even his tie had been picked especially, a gift you had given him for his birthday; although you still refused to tell him exactly how you had found out the date.

This day was bound to be special, he was so damned certain.

And then Father Brown came to his office.

He refused to believe the Father, refused to imagine Flambeau would crash the gallery opening when there were so many guards and police securing it. But more than that, he didn’t want to believe it. It was all too important, he had been so certain of the date, and just the thought of Flambeau wreaking havoc was enough to have him on edge. But still, he did his best to ignore the thought.

Technically speaking he was working, you both knew it, but that didn’t stop the day from being something of a date. He had picked you up early in the morning, making sure to open every door for you and simply spending every moment he could at your side.

The ride to the gallery had been almost amusing as you struggled to find a mid-point between formality and romance as you sat in the front of the police car in your best dress. The event was bound to be thrilling, even if you knew you’d be spending most of your time without the man at your side, but in those few moments alone you could almost pretend it was just a normal date that any normal couple might attend.

You were allowed in early thanks to arriving with the inspector, his job at hand giving him special permission to enter before the public, and for a few short minutes you got to experience the glory of the art with the man of your dreams. Without a crowd to force your way through, or the chattering of guests making conversation impossible, you could wander the halls with your arm wrapped in his as a comfortable silence fell throughout the gallery.

But the peace was over far too soon, and far earlier than he had hoped. The rumbling sound of footsteps making their way up the stairs had you smiling sadly at him as you slowly untwined your arm from his, knowing your time together was coming to an end. With a quick kiss to his cheek that still, after all this time, never failed to make the man blush slightly, you stepped back.

“I’ll see you later,” you promised, eyes taking in the way be fumbled slightly at the tiniest bit of affection, making for a far more beautiful sight than any of the masterpieces before you could ever dream of. “Maybe I can slip you a glass of champagne when no one’s looking.”

A huff of laughter was all he could offer in return before you found yourself being carried away by the crowd of eager guests, soon losing sight of him.

The day seemed to linger on, taking its time at a glacial pace. The artwork was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, but after doing the rounds once you found yourself at a loss as to what to do. It seemed Sid, Mrs McCarthy and Father Brown were up to some form of mischief, and with every dull moment, the temptation to join them only grew.

But where Father Brown was, chaos was sure to follow. You were already on the landing, enjoying a moment of peace when it happened. You could distinctly remember the way Sid tried to usher you away with Mrs McCarthy and Lady Felicia, but you remained resolute, trying to see through the crowd to find Sullivan as people rushed by in a panic.

You barely caught his eye before he was yelling for you to go, to get out quickly. But you weren’t about to leave him to whatever danger lay within the room. A single step towards him was all you managed before you felt one of the young officers begin to guide you away as Sullivan yelled once more towards you, now demanding the man get you away from there no matter what.

Fear gripped you as you stood outside the gallery, waiting torturously for the inspector to finally leave the damned building. The building must have been nearly empty judging by the mass of people congregated on the sidewalk, all hurriedly making their ways towards cars as they stumbled away from the building, but still he didn’t appear. Your anxiety only grew with each passing moment, and you were ready to force your way back inside if he didn’t come out soon.

The crowd had already rushed off by the time you finally saw him emerge from the building, easing your worried mind in an instant as you saw he wasn’t injured as you had feared. But as you smiled towards him his features only fell further in return. The irritation you could see even from your spot against his car quickly morphed into a deep sadness.

Standing up from your position against the car, you couldn’t help but frown as you watched him move closer, Sergeant Goodfellow hot on his tail as he simply gestured for you to get in. They didn’t so much as pause in their discussion as you both climbed into the car, but the way the inspector glanced over towards you quickly before straightening up in his seat did nothing to calm your nerves.

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” you were almost scared to speak up as he started the car, fearful of what was to come, yet not daring to prolong the moment. You needed to know what had him so tense.

At first you had thought it was just Flambeau and his antics, after all you had overheard the Father’s worries on the matter not a day earlier. But the way he looked at you, the despair and anguish in his gaze, the way he avoided meeting your eye… you knew it was something far more personal.

“It can wait until tomorrow,” he sighed, the tense way his muscles seemed to clench relaxing somewhat as he spoke. But you felt no relief at the sight. It wasn’t a sense of calm that washed over him, but rather a sense of utter resignation that hurt far more than his anger ever could.

“Tom,” you drew out his name softly, shaking him from his thoughts at the simple syllable. It was so rare that he heard his first name now that he was away from London, away from his family. You had been so careful to keep propriety, to only refer to him as you ought to do, the name almost felt foreign to his ears.

But then there were those moments where it would fall from your lips in a sigh, usually filled with bliss as you both lost yourselves for a few minutes of indecency before you would remember yourselves, removing your lips from whatever skin was exposed,, blushing heavily and unable to meet each other’s gaze as you tried desperately to remind yourselves of society’s rules, and your places within it.

His attention moved from the road ahead to you in an instant, mouth hanging open in surprise, only to shut it quickly as he saw the look on your features. You were clearly torn, wanting to help him through whatever was plaguing him yet not wanting to push.

It was harder to pull his gaze away from you than he would like to admit, although, that was hardly anything new. “Not like this,” the words barely crept over his lips, sounding like a prayer as he uttered them to himself more than anything, shaking his head in refute.

But it only made your worry deepen.

“Please,” you pleaded softly, gently coaxing him to open up to you. “You’re starting to worry me.”

Shaking his head, you could see his resolve cracking before you, and with a heavy sigh he gave in. “I was going to ask you to marry me.”

The silence that filled the car was not the same comforting one you had come to know so well. Instead it felt awkward and thick between you. Too stunned to reply, you were comically still in the passenger seat as Sullivan desperately watched the road as if it may disappear before his eyes, unable to bring himself to even let his peripheral vision take in whatever your response might have been.

Moments spread out before you, realisation slowly dawning on you as you considered every moment in careful detail. The anxious smiles he had thrown your way, the way his hand kept coming back to hold onto you reassuringly, the relief in his smile every time he saw you from across the hall, the effort he had gone to to make sure his clothing was utterly pristine, the nervous way he stumbled over his words more than once when he had grown so comfortable with you usually.

“The answer would have been yes,” you spoke softly, almost scared to break the silence, but glad you did when you saw him relax slightly at the words, a hint of a smile beginning to take over his features. “It still is, if the offer is still on the table.”

#Inspector Sullivan #inspector sullivan imagine #inspector sullivan x reader #father brown #father brown imagine #father brown bbc #father brown fic #my fic #damned if you queue damned if you don't

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ownedbytexbikerdom · 3 years

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She lies there, hoping and praying that tonight will be any different, yet it is always the same. Time after time the whispers drift throughout the room; soft as feathers, yet the effects strike like talons. Every night they tell her to open herself to the whims of that which cannot be seen, yet the touches are unmistakable.

No matter how much she questions the beings or speaks to them, no answers are given except for the same orders, to keep spread-eagled and motionless. Whatever these bodiless entities were, their power over the girl was beyond human comprehension. They would tease her body in ways no mortal could manage, though this is where the girl’s torment truly took hold. While they always ordered her to remain in the position, the delights wrought on her were always too much to endure; they kept bringing her to the edge of orgasm in ways her mind could not fathom, in ways which finally made her give in before they granted her the orgasm she craved. As soon as she moved, the beings vanished, leaving her wanting. The cruelty was that they always left her stuck in this state, making sure that she could not orgasm even under her own manipulations, sealing her orgasm off until they returned the next night… and the next… and the next.

She has lost count how many nights it has been, yet still they take no heed to her begging and whimpering; they simply give the one single order and continue their work. No matter what she wears, the cloth is no barrier to them, it is as if her skin were moving and teasing itself. It has always been the same since the beginning, they always work so painfully slow, spreading warm sensations all over her body, yet when the attention hones onto her clitoris and nipples, she loses it.

Tonight her silken black underwear is no defence as usual; they assault her body with constant lingering touches. No matter how much she mentally prepares herself, her every nerve reacts to what feels like hundreds of fingertips darting between her thighs to seduce the wetness within. No matter how hard she clenches her fingers and how much she tenses every muscle in retaliation, her body is always overcome with horrifying ease.

She tries once again with all of her might to hold her composure, to not give in, to finally last until the sweet kiss of orgasm is granted; yet each day of being denied has taken its toll more and more, making the following day even harder still. Frustrated cries of desperation fill the room as her body arches, clutching at the bed in need; she knows it is helpless, left to experience another 24 hours coping with the build-up of unreleased arousal.

She will have to go through it all over again. She prays that tomorrow night will be yield what she wishes for most.

She lies there, hoping and praying that tonight will be any different, yet it is always the same. It didn’t matter how long the sensations punished her body, or how many days or weeks: all that mattered to her was whether tonight would be the night that mercy was shown.

The daytime was merely a brief respite, an interlude to the ever expected events of the night; her days were spent in constant desire, a pulsing need emanating from between her thighs and resonating through to the very tips of her fingers, fingers that would not quench that need no matter how much she tried. Such a cruel torture, to have the simple yet most desirable aspect of sexuality, the climax of pleasure, sealed away, yet there was never an explanation or any other interaction other than the nightly torment that never ceased to arrive.

While she hid her unendurable frustrations well enough in the daytime, her mind was constantly restless with thoughts of what was to come. As much as she tried to fight it, she could not help but be consumed as every inch of her body seemed to be on a knife edge; every brush of her clothes against her skin from even the slightest movement managed to pull her mind back to the prickling need throughout.

It felt as if she were inside a living, writhing prison, her mind trapped within a shell of uncontrollable lust.

Once home, she strips naked for the night, knowing that the entities have moved beyond teasing her over the clothing; she is unsure whether it is better having them touch her naked body, or worse. Stripped and ready to plummet back into the depths of desperation, she lies in wait until once more, they come; soft wisps of the night air trailing over her defenceless body.

On cue, those unseen fingertips trace along every curve as if to needlessly remind her of just how sensitive every inch of her delicate feminine frame has become. Their touches mark her every outline with a trace of renewed longing, though the trembling and whimpering need that escapes her does nothing to bring about any change of pace. Even though they are unseen, even though she cannot touch or grip hold of the entities with her own hands, the touches always have almost human warmth to them, warmth that makes the sensations feel so much more erotic.

It is always the same, no matter how long she tries to fight it never takes long until pleas for mercy escape her full, moist, trembling lips; her breath already in ragged gasps even though they have barely begun.

All around her smooth body, down the arch of her back, along the curve of her ass, they begin to focus on those most tender places, the places that truly torture her most. Before the beings even make contact, the little pinpoints of her nipples and clitoris are already stiffened with desperate arousal, a body already conditioned to such cruel stimulation. What always scares her is just how precisely they know where to touch, as if her body is an open book to them; for so many days they had stimulated her in ways she was sure no other person had ever felt. Those long, lingering strokes to her sex, the gentle touches to her lips that felt somehow like the soft nibbles of a mouth, the trailing featherlike contact to her stomach and hips, the circling stimulation around her breasts and the delicate dancing of fingertips along her feet and up her legs; it all added to the cruellest of teases.

As ever, the feeling of a thin thread seems to wrap around her clitoris, slowly and gently tweaking it and sliding up and down; all she can do is claw at the bed, unable to stop herself gasping in such intense pleasure, knowing that there is no way to stop the sensations the invisible tendril is wreaking on her. Whether she closes her legs or tries to paw at the source of it all, they pass through her fingers like the air itself. What feels like fingertips pinching and caressing her most sensitive spots soon gives way to the feeling of countless tongues constantly flicking her exposed clitoris non-stop while the tiny strand continues to caress it; she can almost feel her clitoris pulse on the edge of orgasm as the soft thread squeezes it tight enough to make her squeal out in pleasure before more begin to slide along the most sensitive folds of her pussy. Still they do not let her come.

Brought to the edge of orgasm again and again, she continues to scream and beg aimlessly; as the night goes on, the sweat drips from her skin while her juices slide along her inner thighs. Even though she cannot touch them or stop them, now and again they still pin her wrists and ankles down, just to add to her erotic torment, just to tease her imagination even further. All she can do is writhe and cry out. As they explore her mercilessly, as her hips rock in the fury of frustration, she screams out at the inescapable anguish, begging for just that one orgasm. Hour after hour they edge her relentlessly, keeping her teetering on the brink, sometimes with an inhuman ability to hold her on the edge ceaselessly.

She prays that tonight they will show mercy.

They won’t.

Lordy, being tortured by edging. I'd be totally mindless and off with the fairies.

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lovemalecforever · 3 years

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Chapter 16

Angels and Immortality

After resolving the issue, Jace and Alec went in search of others and found them in the library, reading the history of parabatai.

"So, how does this procedure work exactly?" Jace spoke.

Izzy and Clary exchanged a look, then looked at Alec and smiled widely. "Finally, Jace! Glad to know you got back into senses." Izzy commented.

"I had my own worries, okay? Don't look at me like that!" He eyed both women.

"Okay, enough!" Alec said. "I'll call Cat and let her know!"

They all nodded and Alec left the room to call Catarina. After 15 minutes Catarina came with the book held in her hands with the help of her magic and met them in the library, she kept the book on the circular table placed in the library and looked at Alec worriedly.

"Alec, can I talk to you privately?" She asked, her tone visibly worried.

"Yeah, sure." He frowned but followed her outside.

They were standing in the hallway outside the library when Catarina voiced her concern.

"Alec, did you talk to Magnus today?"

"Yeah, in the evening. He seemed fine. Why, what's wrong?"

"Alec, I got a call from Miss Rose, she's Madzie's teacher here at NY, they've organised a world tour for all the warlock children, she was in Alicante to take Madzie. She left with her around half an hour ago. Alec, Magnus-"

"He's alone..." He said with concern dipped in his voice, instantly getting worried for his husband.

"Alec, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I'm calling Magnus to check up on him, you go inside and explain Clary her part." He said. Catarina nodded and left.

Alec sighed, rubbed the bridge of his nose, then took out his phone from his pants pocket and dialled Magnus's number.

__________________

Magnus kept refilling his glass of Dry Martini, trying to wash away the emptiness and disappointment residing inside him. He was standing by the bar counter, eyeing the dance floor and ordering a new refill when his phone buzzed, he saw the caller ID and gulped. He quickly took the glass from the counter then put a sound barrier spell around himself blocking all the noise of the bar around him then received the call.

"Alexander, thought you wouldn't call. How was your day?" He said trying to sound cheerful.

"Hey, love. It was fine. What are you doing?"

"Oh, n.. nothing, just tucked Madzie into the bed, she's really stubborn and mischievous, didn't want to go to sleep. She finally slept just now. It was such a tiring day running around her. She's a sweetheart though. I'm looking forward to tomorrow, I'm thinking of teaching her some new tricks." He gulped, hating lying to him but he didn't want him to worry.

Alec clenched his fist tightly, anger seeping through his body after hearing a clear white lie from his husband. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, not wanting to yell at him, remembering the state he could be in. "Magnus! Seriously!" He said coldly instead.

"Alexander, what? What happened?"

"Really Magnus!?"

Magnus was about to say something when realisation dawned on him. 'Shit! How can I be such an idiot! Catarina is with him in New York, she must have told him, and I lied to him right now. Damn you, Magnus!' he cursed himself.

"A... Alexander, I.. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to lie to you, I just didn't want you to get worried, that's all. I'm really sorry."

Alec sighed heavily. "Magnus, if you keep lying to me like this, how can you expect me to not get worried?"

"I... I understand and I'm really sorry, Alexander. I just-"

"Are you drinking?" Alec asked sternly, cutting him mid-sentence.

"What!?" Magnus was shocked by his sudden question.

"Are you drinking, Magnus?" He asked again.

Magnus looked down at the glass he held in his hand of Lilith knows what number of refills, and gulped nervously. "N..No. No, I'm not drinking, Alexander. I was just about to go to bed. Don't worry, I'm fine."

Alec rubbed his temples in frustration. He could clearly hear his hoarse and rough voice, the voice he always gets after infinite no. of drinking. But is still oblivious to the fact that his husband is at a bar in Germany and not at home. "Fine, Magnus. Just take care of yourself, love. I'll try to be back as soon as I can."

"Hey, do your job, shadowhunter, I'm fine, okay. I'll go to bed now."

Alec sighed. "Okay, I love you, bye."

"I love you too, darling."

Magnus sighed heavily when he cut the call and removed the barrier around him. He looked at the glass in his hand, rubbing his finger around the rim of the glass, he closed his eyes, thinking about the lies he just said to his shadowhunter, then opened his eyes and swallowed the content of the glass in one big gulp. He then paid the bartender and left, completely oblivious to the deep black pair of eyes watching his every move.

"Oh my love, so vulnerable, Magnus. It's going to be so much fun." The woman gave a vile smirk and disappeared into the crowd of people.

___________________

Alec sighed frustratingly. 'Why Magnus! Why do you lie to me so much? Why hide your pain? Why don't you talk to me? Just why?' he thought as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He stood in the hallway for sometime, calming his nerves then walked inside the library, noticing everyone's eyes were on him.

"Are you okay, big brother?" Izzy asked, voice filled with concern.

Alec nodded in response.

"Alec is Magnus," Catarina started, but Alec cut her mid-sentence.

"Not fine. He lied to me again. He's drinking, even when I've warned him not to." He looked at Cat, noticing her worried filled eyes for her best friend.

"Can we just please get this over with!" Alec said in a low voice, everyone nodded knowing talking about Magnus will only worsen Alec's worries. Jace put his hand on his brother's shoulder and squeezed it gently.

The book was placed in the center of the table, and everyone took their places beside it, giving Alec one final look of reassurance.

"Clary? You know what to do, right?" Catarina asked, and Clary nodded.

Clary closed her eyes and focused her attention on calling Angel Ithuriel.

"I calleth upon thee, Angel Ithuriel. Prithee hark to mine plea." She repeated it like a chant several times but she frowned and opened her eyes when it didn't work.

"It's not working..."

"Is there something written in the book on how to call upon him?" Alec asked Cat, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration.

"No, there's nothing in this book for that. I've gone through it many times already. Sorry, Alec."

"Try something else, Clary. Maybe say it in your mind instead of saying it out loud. Don't stress yourself, just relax first then try again." Izzy suggested she saw the look on her brother's face and hated seeing him like this. She wanted to do anything she could to make her brothers happy.

Clary nodded as she took a few deep breaths to relax herself, then closed her eyes again and concentrated.

"The light to the darkness, the creator of our kind, the one we pray to. I calleth upon thee. Prithee hark to mine cries for thee. I plea for thy presence." She said in her mind, then started repeating it like a chant, just when she thought it's not working again, her body became stiff, she felt cold and felt like she's falling down from an infinite spiral of darkness, the world around her completely gone.

Everyone looked at Clary in shock when her body became stiff like a statue. Her skin became pale and she looked really peaceful like that.

"Guys, her skin is really cold." Izzy said when she touched her.

"Clary? Are you okay? Clairebear?" Jace asked, worried filled in his voice for his girlfriend.

"What's happening?" Alec asked.

Izzy was about to touch her again when Catarina stopped her. "I think it worked, we can just wait for now." She said and looked at the others. They all nodded and looked at Clary's stiff form.

Clary felt like she got stuck in an infinity loop when she finally felt ground beneath her. She got up and opened her eyes. When she did, she saw bright white light all around her. When her eyes adjusted to her surroundings she realized that she was in a forest completely covered in mist. There was the rustle of winds and whispers of distant forest creatures. The forest seemed like it was enchanted.

"Why did you call upon me Clarissa?" A heavenly voice echoed in the whole forest.

"Angel Ithuriel!" She looked around to find him, but there was no one.

"I'll only appear when you give me the reason for your visit." The voice echoed again.

"I need your help, Angel Ithuriel. My friends need your help. He has a request for you."

"What is that, Clarissa?" The voice was soft this time but still had the heavenly essence in it.

Clary explained to him all about Magnus and Alec and the situation they were in, and Alec's request to get an immortality spell from him. When she was done she saw Angel Ithuriel standing in front of her in all his glory. She smiled helplessly.

"Immortality is not something to gain, Clarissa. This spell was removed from existence because of the consequential damages it wreaked upon the mortal lives. I've only provided to those who have proven their worth that they'll cherish and respect it, not regret and waste it."

"Alec won't disappoint, Angel Ithuriel. He'll respect it till his death."

"I'm not risking it until I see it for myself, Clarissa. I want to see from his eyes why becoming immortal means so much to him."

Clary's eyes widened. "But, how?"

"Is that person sitting near you?"

"Yes."

"Then hold his hand and don't remove it until I ask you to." He said and put his right hand over her head.

Everyone was tense with Clary's state, she hadn't moved in the last 15 minutes. They all started to get worried when Clary moved her right hand.

"Clary?" Jace asked.

"Looks like she's searching for something! Clary? What is it?" Izzy asked.

"Alec!" She whispered, sounding completely different from her own self.

Everyone looked at Alec, and Alec moved his right hand forward and held her hand. He didn't feel anything at first, but after some time he felt a wave of energy flowing inside him and invading his mind and memories. He closed his eyes to block the sudden brightness which appeared in front of his eyes. After what felt like an eternity but were just ten minutes, he felt the energy withdrawing from him. He opened his eyes and saw that everyone except Clary was looking at him with shock written on their faces. Not long after, Clary withdrew her hand and went back into her trance state.

"Okay, that was weird!" Alec stated.

The angel removed his hand from Clary's head when he was done going through Alec's memories. Clary looked at him expectantly, desperately wanting to help Magnus if this was the only solution left.

"I see, that boy is really determined and strong. His passion and protective nature will make him even stronger. His intentions and heart are really pure. I'm ready to help him, Clarissa."

"Thank you, Angel Ithuriel."

The angel put his hand forward and a light golden colored ball appeared in it. "These are the spells, Clarissa. I'm giving it to you now."

He absorbed the energy in his hand and put his thumb on Clary's forehead.

They were all confused and shocked after what happened a few minutes ago. Alec was feeling restless, and others were looking at Clary and waiting for her to get out of her never-ending trance. Suddenly, Clary's forehead started glowing with bright golden lights.

"Clary! What the.." Jace exclaimed.

"Paper! Pen! Fast!" Clary whispered.

Catarina quickly summoned a pen in her hand and a piece of paper in front of her. As soon as Clary felt the pen around her fingers she started scribbling on the paper. Once she was done, the glow on her forehead stopped and she got out of her trance-like state with a loud gasp. She blinked a few times to adjust to the surroundings.

"Clary! Claire Bear! Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Jace." She said softly but suddenly widened her eyes at Jace. "Did you just called me...?"

Jace blushed, not realizing he called her by the nickname they decided not to say in front of others. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, didn't realize I said it." He pleaded with his eyes not to be mad at him.

"Aww.. as much as this is fun seeing you both like that, we need to know what happened." Izzy said mockingly, earning a glare from Jace.

"I got the spells!" Clary exclaimed while holding the paper in her hands. Everyone sighed with relief and she handed the paper to Catarina when she asked for it.

"So, what's next?" Jace asked.

As soon as he asked, a copper bowl with intricate designs over it, and a metallic dagger laced with emeralds and diamonds on its handle appeared on the table.

"Next is," Catarina said, "Clary, you're going to cut your palm with the help of this dagger and pour your blood in this bowl, then I'll perform the spell on it and keep it in the moonlight. Alec, I'll let you know when you have to reach the forest, I'll be present there already."

Alec nodded in response. Clary went ahead with the procedure, after filling the bowl to its brim, she felt exhausted. Izzy helped her by activating her iratze, healing her cut instantly. Catarina vanished the bowl and the book into her apartment then took her leave and left.

"So, you're going to drink my girlfriend's blood, I didn't say it before, but it's disturbing, Alec."

Alec glared at him. "Shut up! Jace!"

"Come on, people. Let's get some rest." Izzy said while dragging everyone out of the library and into their rooms.

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*Next day at the early stage of dawn*

Alec stepped out of the portal into a jungle, where Catarina was already there completing the pentagram. The copper bowl with the blood already turned into golden white was kept on the ground. He looked around, it was dead silent, the stars were gone and the sky had started turning into light shades of blue. He could see the moon vanishing into the clouds.

"Alec, on time. You need to remove your shirt and step in the center of the pentagram. You have to handle me your stele and your pho-"

"I've already given it to Jace." He handed her the stele, then stepped inside the silver pentagram drawn on the ground. Then she handed him a bowl of blood.

Alec looked at the bowl in his hand and sighed heavily. 'I love you, Magnus. Always and forever.' he thought to himself, then looked at Catarina and nodded.

He took the bowl and placed it on his lips and started sipping on it, as on cue Catarina started performing the spell simultaneously.

With each sip, he felt a tingling sensation in every part of his body. He could feel the smallest of the sensation, the gentle wind touching his skin felt like millions of sharp needles poking on his skin. His blood rushing through his veins, the slow rhythmic beating of his heart, he was able to feel everything. By the time he was done drinking, he noticed that his whole body was glowing.

Catarina waited till he stopped glowing, then she stepped into the pentagram, stood in front of him, and placed the immortality rune right above his heart to seal the spell. Once she was done she stepped out of the pentagram.

"I have completed the procedure, Alec. Your awakening will start in some time and I can't stay here for that. It will be really powerful, so I'll leave now."

"Thank you, Cat. Your help meant a lot."

She nodded and smiled at him then created a portal for herself and left.

After sometime Alec felt pain surging throughout his body, he screamed and fell on the ground.

"It's not easy to turn into an immortal, Alec." A heavenly voice said.

Alec looked around and saw a man standing by the woods who was slowly walking towards him.

"A.. Angel Ithuriel!?" He gaped at the man who was looking glorious, a huge pair of white wings were fluttering by his sides and was in ancient clothing.

"Yes, it's me, Alec. You're really brave, but it's not going to be easy, child."

"I'll d...do my best, A... Angel Ithuriel! I.. I want this." He managed to say while gritting his teeth because of the immense pain surging in his body, especially on his spine and shoulders.

He screamed in pain and fisted his hands in the grass beneath him as all his pain got centered around his spine and shoulder blades and he felt his skin and muscles getting ripped and something crawling out of it.

He fell on the ground and screamed as loudly as he could, his eyes becoming watery when all the pain got focused on his ripped skin and his shoulders and back started getting heavy. He felt the blood oozing out of it and flowing down on his back.

He composed himself and started getting up when he felt the pain fading away, but heaviness was still there. His mouth fell open when he realized the source of the heaviness.

He stood straight then looked around himself and found a pair of 8 foot long appendages on either side. Before he could react his body started glowing again, his runes glowing a brilliant shade of goldish silver, his beautiful hazel eyes turned into a mesmerizing pair of icy silver, and his wings fluttering beside him.

The angel looked at him in complete disbelief, his eyes never leaving the newly awakened angeled shadowhunter.

"A.. Angel Ithuriel? Is something wrong?" Alec asked the wide-eyed angel, once he stopped glowing and his eyes turned back to hazel.

The older angel stepped forward and ran his fingers through Alec's wings, each feather carved in three different colors, white on the base blending into brilliant silver-tipped with a light tint of gold.

"Silver!" The heavenly voice stated. "Silver is a rare color for angels to have, Alec. You might not have realized, but your eyes turned to icy silver for a fraction of the time. The angels possessing silver eyes and wings are very rare and really powerful. They are supposed to be great warriors and protectors of the earth."

The older angel looked at Alec with gleam and pride in his eyes. "You were destined to become an angel, Alec Lightwood. If you wouldn't have chosen for yourself, destiny would have caught you up in some other ways. You're brave, strong-willed, a leader, with a pure heart who wants to protect his loved ones by any means. You are one of your own kind, Alec."

Alec's jaw was dropped on the floor and he was left completely speechless by the older angel's confrontation. His wings fluttered and curled around his legs in excitement.

"Wha.. I.." He looked at the wings curled around himself in confusion.

Angel Ithuriel smiled. "Your wings are part of your body now, Alec. They will react to your emotions and feelings."

"Oh! But on my shoulders, it's still painful. And the heaviness.." he trailed off, still confused by the new abilities he gained.

"That's why I'm here, you're here, in the bed of nature, nature is the source of our energy, it's going to help you. Now, let's help you control your awakened powers."

Alec nodded and stepped out of the pentagram with his new pair of wings and a newly turned immortal. He smiled to himself knowing he's an immortal now. 'Only for you, Mags. I love you, always and forever.'

#asaab #angst with a happy ending #angst #fanfic authors #alec lightwood #fanfiction #lightwood bane family #malec forever #malec fic #fantasy #fanfic #happily married #magnus bane #malec

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

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Loser Like Me - Intern!Nolan Sorrento x Reader (Ready Player One)

GIF Credit: X @crawlingmist @mandy23b @wltz-bby @happyskywhale #MendoTagSquad

Babe you’re platinum all the way

Author’s Note: Before we even begin - Mini Series for sure! Also I’ve never seen anyone do this before me, so here we are!

I know by now if you’ve been following this blog for any length of time you know how much I love this man. With my heart and soul. However - there’s a particular scene in the movie I just... really don’t like. It’s the Intern scene. I won’t go into a whole lot of detail, but it hits me deep on a personal level, and I hate that it’s played for laughs. I thought it needed some ‘rectifying’! And came up with this little series. 😊 I really hope you enjoy taking this journey with Nolan, as much as you have my others!

Disclaimer: RPO characters/storyline not mine / whilst following what they did with him in the movie, some of this will be influenced by Lacero (because of course it will!)

I wanted to write a quick note about his age! I headcanon every Mendo that does not have a canon age as the same age Ben was when the movie was shot. So... For RPO that’s about 46/47. Making Nolan 47 in 2045. The intern scene takes place in 2025. Making Nolan, as stated in the fic, 27.

Premise: Nolan Sorrento has a head full of dreams that he’s sure will be actioned by the OASIS creators any day now. But fetching coffee is all anyone at Gregarious Games thinks Nolan is good at. Lucky for him, you see things a little differently...

Words: 6397

Warnings: In general - people being douches to Interns. / swearing

_____

Yeah, you may think that I'm a zero But hey, everyone you wanna be Probably started off like me You may say that I'm a freak show But hey, give it just a little time I bet you're gonna change your mind

All of the dirt you've been throwin' my way It ain't so hard to take, that's right 'Cause I know one day you'll be screaming my name And I'll just look away, that's right

Push me up against the locker And hey, all I do is shake it off I'll get you back when I'm your boss I'm not thinkin' 'bout you haters 'Cause, hey, I could be a superstar I'll see you when you wash my car

Just go ahead and hate on me and run your mouth So everyone can hear Hit me with the worst you've got and knock me down Baby, I don't care Keep it up and soon enough you'll figure out You wanna be, You wanna be A loser like me

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The alarm went off at 6:40am. As it did every day – but Nolan Sorrento was already half way ready, and had to skid out of the bathroom to snap it off, before any of his neighbours complained again. Sometimes he just couldn’t sleep – and he felt it probably wiser to just get up and get on. Sorrento’s head was full of ideas, ideas that he knew would help him make it big someday. Hopefully right here where he worked, at Gregarious Games… once he got a job that wasn’t an internship, that was. And - when he wasn’t fetching coffee, or running papers, or trying to book meeting rooms and call other people that worked around the company as requested by those higher up - Nolan would sit with his notebook and plot out what his future would look like, and the tech he would use to get there, whether it be available right now, just within reach, or something that one day he’d be at the forefront of making. He dreamed, because right now that was all he could do. Nolan had a job and that was enough to be thankful for, he had his life… which was more than could be said for some people. Sweeping back into the bathroom he studied himself in the mirror for a moment with a small sigh. He liked to give himself a daily pep-talk, because there wasn’t anyone else that was going to do that for him either. ‘Okay, Nolan, you got this. For real this time – they’ll ask you to fetch coffee and then you can walk in and be like… Guys! Your OASIS project – what about if you did this-!? How can they not love it? Maybe they’ll bump you to tech? Maybe they’ll make you a partner!’ It hadn’t worked out for him so far, but he could dream – maybe today was the day! He gave himself a firm nod, running his hand through his thick dark blonde hair to neaten it (at least the highlights were going to look good once he got into proper lighting!) and then dashed from the bathroom again; throwing a suit jacket on – that didn’t match his outfit but was good enough – he looped his pass around his neck, grabbed his keys and his satchel before heading out of the door. No time for breakfast, he’d think about that later! First things first; getting into the office. It was still nerve wreaking for him to walk up to that office with coffee; it used to give him shakes just thinking about maybe getting the coffee order wrong, but now he knew he had that down. Nolan knew that Gregarious Games was on the verge of something not just great, but phenomenal. People all around the company treated it’s two founders like Gods, and Nolan knew exactly why – he was doing the same. They were creating the seemingly impossible; giving people an escape from the hell that everyone was living. The longer he was here, the more Nolan gained confidence – Morrow at least knew his name now, and he was also privy to the fact that not everyone got to interact with these two as much as he did. It came to the point where he actually liked being asked to fetch coffee for them, because he’d get to try out a new idea. “-What about this-?” “Maybe later, Nolan, thanks for the coffee…” “But I really think the OASIS could just use-” “Thanks, Nolan. Really, but it’s a busy time.” “Well maybe-” “Nolan…” Then he had to walk from the room with a deep breath and try not to get so disheartened. No matter, there would always be tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that… on into infinity. But Sorrento smiled gently, one day he’d come up with something that would be so mind-blowing they would have to listen to him! And he was getting close, he was sure of it. With that thought, he jogged back down the stairs, confidence sky high. “Oh-! Nolan-!” He turned to the voice calling him, “Yes?” “Could you come help me with something… I’m not exactly sure what I’ve done wrong on this presentation… I just can’t fix it…” “Sure-!” “OH. And, whilst you’re at it, would you mind picking up my printing? Thanks, Nolan!” He blinked several times watching them walk away passed the printer, and then sighed again – well, he still had a ways to go yet…

Nolan was aware that there were people in this company who didn’t like him, that thought he was strange. The pop culture he consumed was obscure at best, or... not obscure enough at worst. Nolan liked the modern stuff, the early millennium. The remnants of Y2K... where everyone lost their heads thinking computers and clocks would all stop working. Apparently, that wasn’t highly valued, and everyone thought that the 80s was where it was at. Nolan wasn’t sure of that himself, and thought maybe most of them were just posturing because that was the era that Halliday and Morrow were obsessed with. It made sense; they’d grown up in that time. Nolan was just far more nostalgic for things he’d grown up with - than a time he didn’t even really know.

Other people he figured didn’t like him for other reasons, but he’d never quite got the opportunity to find out what those were. Only that it felt a lot like being shoved up against a high school locker again. And he was 27. There were a couple in particular that liked to get physical; only this time they decided to do it when he was carrying two full cups of coffee. “Whoops-” “Shit! Sorry-!” As if he sounded anywhere near it. “It’s okay though right, that’s your job, you can just make more.” If he wasn’t already on a time limit, “And clear that up whilst you’re at it.” “What do you get a full employee badge for making coffee anyway?” “Oh no-! You read that wrong mate, it’s just an intern one.” “Ah-! Not permanent then? Coffee can’t be that good-!” “Less permanent now-!!!” Nolan bit his lips together, because he knew what would happen if he retaliated, these two were full time employees that (probably) had way more important jobs than he did. He knew which one of them was more likely to be walked out of the door after a confrontation, and he needed this.

“Do you two assholes want to leave him the fuck alone-!?” They all turned, to an impatient looking woman standing with her arms crossed. And this would be a moment that, although he didn’t know it yet, would go down in history in Nolan Sorrento’s life. For this was the moment he met you. You could not have been glaring at them both harder - and felt that for the man stuck in the middle, it was pretty fortunate that you walked by. “Y-Y/N-!” “Don’t give me that, why don’t you go bother someone else-!?” “But he-!” “Is trying to get coffee from point A to point B, I didn’t realise Gregarious games hired children these days that would be such a hindrance. Why don’t you get back to your desks and do your jobs-!?” They didn’t dare argue with you – skulking off, although muttering profusely. And Nolan was nearly speechless, but also realised there was coffee all over the floor: “Ah-! Ahhh-! Shoot-!” “No, no, no...!!” You moved towards him, hands gently pushing him back to standing; “I got this, you go make them again...!” “No, no, I can’t leave you to-” “Nolan, it’s okay... I got this...” He stopped suddenly; now he would know if he’d seen you before. He would. Nolan was good with things like that. He opened his mouth, but you ushered him back towards the kitchen; “I’ll help in a moment, just let me do this!”

Sorrento didn’t know what else to do but wait for you in the kitchen, by now he probably could have gone outside and got a coffee order, but in you walked, throwing away whatever you’d used to tidy up the spillage. “Good thing I like the smell of coffee...” You wiped your hands and turned to him, with a gentle smile; “Sorry about those guys. They’re self-entitled assholes who shouldn’t have the jobs that they do. Alas, I am not a hiring manager... are you alright?” “Oh, it’s nothing I can’t handle.” You nodded, “I can see that.” “F-forgive me, Y/N...” that is what they’d called you, “but...” “Oh; I’ve heard all about you - Nolan Sorrento. And your ideas!” He looked away for a moment, aware that he was blushing, “But also that you make one hell of a cup of coffee...” that just made him blush harder. “You also do a little bit of work in my department, so I’ve seen you around. I could use a mind like yours, y’know? Maybe I’ll have to get you in for experience...” You nodded to the half-made coffee; “I’ll help, if you teach me how the boys upstairs like it.” “Oh... y-yeah sure...” Nolan moved aside as you crossed the kitchen, “What’s your department?” “Technology. So, they do all the ideas and spec and testing, and my team codes it. We also run all diagnostics on errors, though the less we see of those the better!” “Your team-!?” “I like manage like 2 people, it’s nothing.” But Nolan was staring at you like all his wildest dreams had come true. “...Wow. That’s... that’s incredible-!” “If I could get the right people in my team, it’d be more so...” You eyed him curiously, “And somehow you’re only an intern?” “I’ll take what I can get.” You giggled “Until one of the big plans comes off?” “Yeah I guess...” That faint shade of pink was back “I admire that.” “What?” “The confidence to tell Halliday and Morrow your thoughts. The imagination it takes to have ideas like that. It’s cutting edge stuff, Nolan. I couldn’t do that - I am more... the girl who executes the idea. And turns your dream into a virtual reality... but I don’t have such a knack for original content.” You gave him another sweet smile that had him turning quickly back to the coffee; “Now why don’t you teach me how to do this - and I’ll explain why it’s a little late.” “Y-yeah... lets... do that!” ***

Overall Nolan was pretty harmless, he kept himself to himself and did every task that was asked of him. You made a point of finding him to say hello, and chat to him for a few minutes every time you passed his desk. And you noticed that when you approached him he always looked quiet and subdued, but by the time you moved on he was joyful and animated and it always hurt you to have to move on. Still the smile on his face didn’t fade after that. He was full of endless enthusiasm, and more importantly than that – something you felt Gregarious aught to be paying attention to – he was hungry, if work didn’t come to him he’d seek it out, Nolan certainly wasn’t afraid of doing that. Every so often he’d be walking by with someone and you’d catch a snippet of another great idea that filled his head – but more often than not was met with “That’s great, Nolan, but…” You were amazed to see this didn’t deter him; sure he’d look disappointed, but he didn’t give up. Sorrento’s attitude and personality intrigued you, and one afternoon when he was leaving for another coffee run, you made a point of walking with him. That soon became habit, as did joining him for lunch. It didn’t win you a lot of friends, and more often than not you’d be asked ‘What the hell are you thinking!?’ ‘Yeah, Y/N! You actually have talent!’ ‘Nolan Sorrento is never gonna amount to anything. He’s pushing 30 and all he does is make coffee.’ You didn’t understand why, or how, anyone in this office could pick on him. And why everyone just let them get away with it. Your defence of him was ruthless. “He’s a fucking INTERN, not a coffee boy – oh my god! It’s about time someone actually taught him something about the business. Nolan’s got a head full of ideas and if no one else is gonna utilize him, I fucking will – because it only takes one job ad or someone to recognise what he has and he’ll be off to IOI!” “They can have him.” “You know what, screw all of you! When Nolan’s running this place and you’re all begging for jobs, I hope to God he remembers what you did to him.”

Nolan was wasted here. But you didn’t want him to be wasted here; he was at times a little too unconventional for your game makers, given his little corner of pop culture (not that he’d opened up to you a lot about that, but occasionally you got a glimpse of it by what he referenced and laughed at), or a little too ‘business’ for your co-founders - monetization was practically a curse word… Yet Nolan had a mix of talent that barely anyone else in this company did, and no one was giving him a chance to use it. Worse still to you – an Intern, who should be learning everything the business has to offer and be given every opportunity to get stuck into it, was doing not a lot more than fetching and filing paperwork. And sure, you were younger than him, but you wanted to take this into your own hands.

“Hey!” A smile was already present on his face before he looked up; “Hey!” “You busy today?” You folded your arms on top of his desk divider; Nolan looked a little shifty; suspicious of you for a minute. “I mean, I got plenty to be getting on with…” You gave a disappointed sigh; “Aw, see I really needed your help with something.” “…Really!?” He wasn’t about to hide that shock – Nolan hadn’t done anything directly tech related for your department before, and that was your exact remit. “Yeah, but if you-” “No, no!” He stood, “I’d love to help, that’s what I’m here for, right?” You couldn’t help yourself, and giggled, “Did you just become un-busy?” “…Yeah. Yes, I think so.” Nolan placed his hands in his pockets with a grin, and waited for you to tell him what to do; “Awesome, let me show you around tech central!” You beckoned him to walk with you, “And for the record, no, I was pretty sure intern meant you were also here to learn, and I’ll be damned if I don’t teach you something. How’s your coding?” “Not a strong suit.” “What did you study?” “Uh… Business and economics… just touching on computing as a minor… why?” You turned back to him very nearly shocked; “At College!?” “Uhm. Yes?” He’s a College grad and we have him paper pushing, my God, no one is ever hearing the end of this! But you just nodded, “What’s the dream Nolan?” He became bashful, looking away from your face for a moment, as if he didn’t dream – or as if every dream he’d been working for was suddenly stupid; “Uh. I…” “C’mon, everyone has one…” You touched his arm delicately, “Hand on heart, ten years from now, when you’re close to 40, where do you wanna be?” Sorrento looked a little affronted by your close to 40 remark but held his tongue; “Uh. I guess, I’d like to be in charge of a company like this one.” “Good man, right answer.” You swept him into another room – a neat row of 5 desks on one side, and one on the other – no barriers between you – the single desk was covered with paperwork; in the centre a flashing image, highlighting what various coding pieces were about to address in game. You indicated for him to sit at a desk in the row of five, and joined him. “And you?” “None of my dreams are really to do with work…” You shook your head, “I mean, sure I’d like a couple of promotions but I’m kinda okay where I am – as long as I still love what I’m doing. I’d just like to help people, you know? And the OASIS might help people… So,” you breathed, “I’d like to make people happy, and I don’t know how measurable that is, but I think I’d feel pretty good in ten years’ time if I managed that!” Nolan watched you for a second, and your gentle smile, and wondered if you’d even realised that for him at least you’d already completed that goal. Maybe he’d keep that back, for now – but he knew that in ten years’ time he wanted to look back on this moment with you and say “I was your first! You might not know, but it was me!” *** You set him a series of tasks and challenges and, as you did so, explained his way through them, who they were for and the effect that doing them would have on the business or the OASIS itself. Your team kept to themselves but you’d let them do that for now, the group was a little insular and he was an outsider right now, they’d warm to him; you worked with nice guys – not like the assholes who behaved like grade schoolers. Every so often, performing your own tasks, you would ping Nolan a calendar invite. “…What’s that?” He would ask you, and you would tell him “Oh! That’s a meeting with the Head of Marketing… Finance… Engineering… PR and Communications… HR…”, the list was endless – but if you had to create an intern program for him for yourself, you damn well would. You were a little more social and a little more pushy, so you knew you could get him working in all the teams and on projects that actually meant something – starting with your own, then he’d have something to show for it. All he needed was a little boost and a shot to his confidence and Nolan would be away; it was already obvious that he believed in his ideas enough – now you wanted to give him the knowledge to back it all up, and finally let him use what he already knew.

By the end of the first day Nolan was a little worried that he hadn’t finished all the tasks you had set, and as your team packed up and left for the night, he looked nervous. “Nolan, you okay?” “…I mean I… I still have a few things to do- I-I’ll finish them, I guess I might just be a little late.” You sighed; “Nolan, you’re an intern, honey – you don’t get paid overtime, just finish them tomorrow – It’s fine.” “…T…Tomorrow.” He swivelled his chair to you but didn’t dare look hopeful, “You want me back?” “Yes, of course I want you back, I told you I need you right now! With all that’s going on so close to launch we’re getting stretched pretty thin, and what better place for you to get stuck in than the midst of all this! I mean you’re getting coffee for ‘em, might as well get your line of code in the finished product too, right?” You stood, slipping your jacket on, “That desk is empty, by the way. I don’t really like the idea of you sitting alone out there…” Blush dusted his cheeks again, “You sure they won’t mind?” You scoffed; “Nolan, by the end of the first week they won’t even notice you didn’t sit there before today! Now come on! Go home!” You were right of course, and by day three your team of two were saying good morning to him, and asking how his evening had been. It took Nolan a little while to answer, because he just wasn’t used to it. By the end of the first week it was ’We’re just heading out for coffee, would either of you like anything-!?’ which you liked, because yes, someone should be asking him which coffee he wanted instead of him fetching it. And by the end of week two you were all sitting together at lunch, and when everyone took a five-minute break, Nolan got to participate in office banter and shit talking. “Guys! May I remind you that our office doesn’t have a door-!” “Oh come on, Y/N! You out of all of us are the one most likely to go off on these idiots!” Nolan turned to you, “You do have a tendency to come back from meetings, throw your notebook down and proceed to tell us how much you hate everyone.” “OHHH!!” The other two started howling with laugher, “OH! He’s got ya, Y/N!” “First off I hate all of you! Second, I also hate that you’re all right-!” But you liked this, and you already knew it was doing wonders for him. Sure, from time to time people would swing by and ask if they could take him off you for a second, and he did still do the infamous coffee run; but you let him go at his own discretion. What you were happy to see, was that his old desk started clearing, and Nolan’s files and notes, and everything he’d had on it managed to find its way into your little side room. That’s when coffee started appearing on your desk every morning. Nolan was always in before you, and had clearly expertly memorised your coffee order. At first you thought it was a simple and sweet one off, but it kept happening. Upon telling him he really didn’t have to do it for you, Nolan would smile and say; “Oh! It’s really the least I can do. After all, look at all you’ve already done for me…” Still, you became grateful to see the cups, and as you sat contentedly with them before you started the day you always noticed him beaming out of the corner of your eye; you only liked to pretend you didn’t. About three weeks into Nolan’s stint with you, the project you had him working on was nearing completion, and your intern was fretting about if you’d have him move. “Nolan, you don’t need to panic – you can still sit with us, there’ll still be plenty for you to do here. Besides like I say, once we finish this everyone is going to want to work with you anyway – and seen as you’ve had most of the introductions, there will be things from them to work on – so you can get your holistic business overview!” He’d been through most of the meetings that you’d set up – and as you suspected, some of them weren’t even aware there was an intern to give any work to, leaving the program entirely in your hands. Your boss didn’t seem to mind too much, and it wasn’t interfering with what you were doing otherwise. Eventually you just let Nolan get on with the meetings himself, and given his background all you seemed to gain from it was positive feedback. ‘He’s great!’ ‘I know. But tell him that!’ You thought he was ready for his big break; and breaks didn’t come much bigger than this one; “Hey, Nolan, you’re on first name basis’ with Halliday and Morrow right?” He raised an eyebrow curiously, “Yeah, I guess.” “I got a feeling you know this project pretty damn well by now.” The two in the corner turned to give positive affirmation to this statement. “Uh huh?” He tipped his head, intrigued as to where this might be going – although the looks on their faces told you they already knew; “How’d you like to help me present it to them next week?” ***

If this was the chance that he had been waiting for, then it was huge. Nolan didn’t show it, not on his face, nor in his stance. He was two steps ahead of you on the presentation but he always asked if what he’d done was okay, and everything you told him to add or take out he considered very carefully. “You didn’t have to do this all yourself, you know.” “I just wanted to take pressure off the team. I dunno, if one person works on it, I guess it also looks a little more polished.” You let him have that, and what he created in the end was one of the best presentations you’d ever seen. Using space effectively, but also very minimalist. “Slides don’t matter so long as you explain them, that’s the backing. You’re the draw.” “Someone paid attention in class-!” He beamed at your recognition, “Yeah. I did.” So it was no surprise to you that he presented well. Except Nolan didn’t just present well, he presented to Halliday and Morrow like a professional – and at every moment you got, you allowed yourself to simply be in awe of him. Where was this man when everyone else was being a total jerk? The different between Nolan now commanding the room, and the soft-spoken intern who liked to float his ideas around desperately when given even the smallest margin of opportunity was staggering – they were poles apart and even his smile was confident. If this was a technique Sorrento had perfected, he was damn good at it – but part of you wanted to steal a little of that confidence and inject it into his personality. The presentation ended, and you both took questions; the more technical they became the further you were in your element, and you got to close out by yourself. It would have all been perfect, had someone not thrown in a comment about Nolan finally talking about someone elses ideas. You decided to let it go just this once, because you probably couldn’t have been prouder of him. Nolan had done much the same to you as you had been doing to him when it was your turn to do the talking – and with all your focus elsewhere he couldn’t help but stare at you. He could do it for an elongated period of time when he was standing here; with the type of smile on his face that he assumed you only saw in really sappy old movies. At first he thought it was just nerves, you were kind and sweet and friendly and for the first time since Nolan had started he felt really included in Gregarious. That was before you dragged him into your team, and he knew that from this project alone – and the way you continually alluded to his work even through this presentation – that you were getting him all the exposure he would need. But it wasn’t just a nervous disposition, it wasn’t just because you saw him and what he was capable of, but you made him smile. Really smile. And that smile was on his face from the minute he set about getting ready for work, to late at night as he was falling into bed. Even just looking at you now Nolan consciously realised how much he did think about you – how much more you made him enjoy work. You’d done so much for him and he realised he wasn’t even sure the right way to go about thanking you. Still, Nolan wasn’t so sure he just wanted to thank you. Would you even be interested in being anything more than friends with him? – that just came with the risk of losing you completely. And for a second that hurt, because Nolan couldn’t. He couldn’t risk it. Not even when he felt this strongly; saying anything jeopardised his happiness. Right now, he couldn’t afford that. Even if you said ‘just friends’ - surely things could never be the same… It made his question answering a little distracted, but then, even you seemed a little unfocused until you got into your stride; then his smile came back, and Nolan got to watch you do what you did best. *** You left the room and immediately punched the air “YES! YES! NOLAN! YOU DID IT!!!” You shook his arm, “Oh my god-! You were so good!” You were elated; not only had he been particularly commended on his effort, but several people in the room had already asked if he could help them in their areas. Nolan accepted them all, of course, because he knew as well as you did that once he had all the tools and proved himself, those ideas in his head were one step closer to being a reality. And then maybe Halliday and Morrow would finally put them to use in the OASIS. One step at a time Nolan – he breathed – you made it this far but you have a little while to go. Your dreams have to wait a little longer, but… she gets it, finally someone gets it! Nolan laughed nervously, “Yeah it… it was pretty great-! It felt good, for sure. And you were impeccable, I need to brush up on my technicalities.” “You’ll get there. But you-! Where did that come from? How do you even present like that!? You gotta teach me, I’m not a natural presenter at all.” Nolan wasn’t one for letting you compliment him without continuously fielding them back. You both had to compromise and take credit here-! “WHAT-!? No, no, you present really well… I just… I dunno I guess I kinda find standing up there and throwing a project out to a waiting world kinda… easy.” You couldn’t help but agree with him, thinking on it for a moment, maybe that’s why he was known so much for ideas around here. For the way Nolan would always pitch them; even though his personality would make him out to be a quiet wallflower who did as he was told. Your team were waiting for you when you got back, and seeing you both joking together made them look at one another with knowing smiles. They wondered if you even realised it yourselves yet. You’d been oblivious before, they’d seen it – but Nolan was positively swooning. Yet, you were giving off vibes like you were interested. They’d grabbed a spare packet of confetti from the last time one of the team had a birthday, and as you both entered the room laughing they were staring you down. “I feel like we don’t need to ask, but how did the presentation go-!?” “Well, really… REALLY well!” Nolan flashed a grin, causing them to give each other the same knowing look before laughing themselves and throwing confetti everywhere. “Congratulations-! We knew it!!” For a minute he looked at a loss and you were laughing, quickly explaining the significance of throwing confetti whenever anyone did a good job – although you also had black confetti tucked somewhere for a slightly more ironic version of the celebration. It just made things in the team a little more fun. “OH.” He said, as if he immediately understood and ‘of course how could it be anything else? Teams always do this!’ - but Nolan did smile. “I guess it’s back to it now, right?” “OH NO!” Sorrento also noted your team had their coats on, “You don’t think you’re getting away with just confetti – do ya Nolan-!? It’s celebration time-! We’re going to the BAR!” “Oh?” He wanted to say the bar wasn’t really him, that he was a one drink and go kinda guy, and that really he ought to be saving any money he made and not drinking it… But you were pulling your jacket on too and that made him torn. Again they turned to each other, and they almost wanted to lock the both of you in here until you figured it out yourselves, so they did the next best thing. “Well, you two come when you’re ready.” “Guys, it’s gonna take us like five seconds…” You scanned your emails quickly, but as nothing was urgent opted to sign off. “No, no! Take your time!” “Besides, you know how crowded it gets down at Campari’s, Y/N, we’ll get a table!” “First rounds on me!” You shook your head after them, and turned back to Nolan, tentatively pulling on his coat. “You know, you don’t have to come.” “No- I- It’s for us right, I feel like I should.” “Nolan, it’s alright, really – I’m not the greatest drinker, I’ll have one and head home. Okay, maybe I’ll get a round, it’s my team but… honestly, if bars aren’t your scene.” Nolan shook his head vigorously, blonde hair flying for a moment, meaning he had to scrape it back off his face, slight blush maintained; “No. I want to come. Maybe we can leave together and just have one, right?” “That’s good with me.” You smiled, “But trust me, you do not have to stay.” By the time you got outside they were long gone, and you debated for a moment calling a taxi, before you decided it was better to just walk it and use the exercise. “Man-! I forgot something-!” Nolan turned to you as you suddenly stood stock still on the pavement, “Do you wanna go back?” “No.” You shook your head turning to him, “I forgot to tell you something.” His face immediately turned puzzled, and he straightened before leaning slightly away from you; “What?” You took a deep breath, before beaming, “How proud I am of you. And what you’ve achieved. That I’m just… lucky to have a friend like you… really lucky. We’re pretty like-minded, but different enough for it to work. And I really like being with you Nolan, it makes me happy. I’m probably the happiest I’ve been in a long time and… relaxed and… wow… oh my god…” Your smile faded slowly and your eyes widened, you weren’t looking at his face, or in fact anything at all and you could forget about talking. All you’d succeeded in doing was confusing him; his heart did nothing but sink at the word friend, and for a minute Nolan decided he would have to accept defeat… But suddenly you were talking like him – like the way he felt about you – and it was pouring, until you stopped. Why had you stopped when there was so much more to say? Or Nolan hoped there was – but then did he dare even hope-!? He didn’t hold his breath. You pulled your eyes back to him, and suddenly everything made sense. EVERYTHING made sense, and maybe you were trying to repress it, or you didn’t want to see what you thought you saw. Perhaps you just thought it’d be inappropriate considering, and you didn’t want people thinking you were helping him because of your feelings – but because Nolan Sorrento was worth helping. Now you were standing on a street in the middle of Columbus, Ohio, staring at each other and one thing was clear to you; Nolan projected his feelings. But Nolan wasn’t acting on them. No matter.

You stepped forward, minimal gap though there was between you - because of the way you walked together, shoulders almost always brushing - closing instantly as you pulled him into you. Pushing up on your toes your lips touched his. Nolan froze – he wasn’t even sure of the way he should react. Well – in his head he knew plenty, hold you, pull you closer, kiss you back at the very least!, but his brain would not compute the actions to the rest of his body; he was shocked. Because this was really happening. Nolan could count the number of girlfriends he’d had on one hand, one finger even and it’d never been serious. He also didn’t need both hands to count the number of kisses he’d received – and if he was honest, how many of those were real? How many of them were dares the other party never really wanted to be involved with in the first place? Sorrento didn’t want to dwell on that, and closed his eyes, but if he didn’t do something you would let him go and all too soon. That thought compelled him to wind his arms around you. His kiss back was tentative, as he made sure that was okay to do, but you didn’t pull away from him – encouraged Nolan held you a little tighter. His stomach was full of butterflies and when he thought on it later, all his dreaming didn’t even come close to this feeling – more nervous and more confident than he’d ever been in his entire life. Part of him wanted to go back to his apartment, slam the door and scream in joy (perhaps not, though, that’d only have the neighbours threatening him again) – maybe he could just do that in his head. But right now, Nolan was holding you, and that was all that really mattered. You let each other go gently, both a little breathless, both a little blushy, and both with no idea what to say next. “N… Nolan?” “Yeah?” “I…” “I know…” but his voice pitched, “Me too.” You giggled, finally stealing a look back to his face; “But I meant it.” He nodded, blush rising, “I-I know that too. You said… everything I’ve… wanted to say.” You nodded along, and both of you laughed as conversation became silence once more. Nolan took a deep breath; “Let’s… uh… they, they’re probably waiting for us.” “Yeah. Yeah, good shout!” But as you continued to walk, this time Nolan held his hand out for yours, and felt elated as you took it, entwining your fingers with his. He knew he would have to take this one step at a time – but his confidence was suddenly sky high, and Nolan felt about ready to take on the world. You watched him walk for a moment, how he even seemed to hold himself better – strides giving him the look of a man on a mission. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched Nolan Sorrento literally change in front of your eyes. You’d been in relationships before, and although that wasn’t what this was yet, you knew that you were in for a wild ride no matter where it headed. But one thing was for sure, you were going to give him the adorably sweet picture-perfect romance that he deserved.

--- Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed! 😊💜

#Nolan Sorrento #Ben Mendelsohn #Ready Player One #Nolan Sorrento x Reader #There will never be enough Nolan Sorrento on my blog #AMANDA - I can't unsee Cody Ko and this feels like cursed information!!#Special Shoutout to Amanda and Joss for the hair discussion!#150!!!#linzi writes #smol bean drabbles #Thank you Amanda for beta reading parts of this... All the way back in March!#Actually theres a lot of wisps of your ideas from our conversations in here...#It... it gets ropey in places but it's got a strong beginning and strong points SO...#Hopefully you enjoy the baby intern-!!#She's a little Lorena but it also feels like Lorena with the personalities flipped

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mimiplaysgames · 4 years

Text

A Powerful Enough Dream (Ch. 7)

Pairing: Terra/Aqua (eventually) Rating: T Word Count: 5,632

Summary: Terra hid Aqua’s Keyblade somewhere. She starts looking for it in Radiant Garden, which holds more secrets than she realizes.

Read on AO3

A/N: I said last chapter that I had two more and here is one of them! Thank you so much for the responses from the last chapter. I’m really pushing through these fast, so I apologize that their quality is not up to my to my standard, but I hope they’re fun nonetheless! I’ve really missed playing with different characters, I don’t get the opportunity in my other fics.

~*~*~*~*~

Stones, pt. 1

Radiant Garden relies on surgical intervention to remain standing: pipes on pipes on pipes, holding the foundations together and distributing water, electricity, and steam to individual homes, both the rebuilt and the not-quite-there-yet.

If Aqua paints a vivid memory of what it used to look like in her mind, she can vaguely see the similarities. She spared Terra here, of all places, and look what happened to it: another on her list of casualties.

Does it make me terrible that I don’t regret letting him live?

Is it even possible to regret only the consequences and not the cause?

It’s not the time to wallow, she tells herself. Radiant Garden is massive and Terra’s crumbs could be anywhere. She instructs Riku to land his Gummiship on the same terrace she last saw her Keyblade, right in sight of Ansem the Wise’s castle, which is worse for wear and will probably never earn back that former glory.

She finds Ansem awaiting her arrival on the ground. Kairi is excited, wanting to see how things in the city have improved, grabbing Riku by the elbow and demanding him to take her to the Marketplace while pulling on Sora’s shirt and asking him to let her visit Merlin. Donald grumbles about wasted time, and Goofy rides along with it. Aqua is more than happy to stay with Ansem for now.

“I’ve locked myself in my home for days,” he grins when she meets him. “There’s a miracle in seeing a familiar face.”

Two large bodyguards, dressed in decorative suits, flank Ansem. By his side is a short, lanky young man in a white coat. Definitely not a soldier: no one who allows that much hair to cover his face would be serious about going to combat. He smiles (not too much, but not too timid), and introduces himself as Ienzo.

“We should continue the pleasantries inside if we want to avoid any trouble,” Ienzo says, adjusting his collar three times but never getting it straight.

“Yet trouble comes without our consent,” Ansem says, his gaze glowering beyond the Gummiship when a group of people, dressed in handmade uniforms, approach. He gives Aqua a wink. “They have knocked on my door every day since my return. Might as well use the opportunity at hand.”

Leading the group of oncomers are two people with the most severe faces Aqua has ever seen on anyone. They stride with such determined cohesion that she realizes they’ve been idling around, waiting for a chance to corner Ansem.

One of them is a tall man with brown hair and a single scar scraped over his nose. His blue eyes swallow her into a deep, cold well. He observes everything with a distance, his skin so unmoved that Aqua wonders if he’s ever had the pleasure of laughing. He dresses like he’s casual: leather jacket with a fur trim and too many belts to sit comfortably, but he doesn’t wear the impression that he’s good with people.

The other is a woman with a permanent glare on her face. It’s a hard expression against the soft curls of her rose-colored hair. But she’s nothing elegant - if anything, this woman is power in short stature, a red cape hanging off one shoulder and a sheathed weapon prepared on the other. Aqua’s impressed by her presence - she wishes she could carry herself the same one day, and hopes she only caught her in a bad mood.

“Leon, Lightning,” Ansem greets, “I see you waste no time.”

Aqua hitches her breath. Noctis and Garnet are so gentle by comparison, it’s difficult to see how they can sing praise for these two.

“I’m usually not the betting kind, Ansem,” Leon says, hands at his hips. Aqua never expected such a comforting voice to come out of his mouth. “But you’ve made me a different man. I’ve wagered you dug your tomb in there.”

Lightning makes nothing subtle when she rolls her eyes.

“I may already have,” Ansem says, his fists tense under his sleeves, but he keeps pleasant. His bodyguards are on alert, and Ienzo throws glances, not looking at anyone in the eye. “Never leaving my chair, however, wreaks havoc on my old joints.”

Lightning crosses her arms and tosses a disgusted look. “We gave you a set of conditions on your stay,” she snaps.

Leon holds a hand up. “Lightning-”

“No one wants you here.” She’s so much shorter than Ansem’s bodyguards, who are ready to pounce, but there’s no way she’d lose to them. “So what’s it going to be?”

Aqua expects Ansem to retort to such an unnecessary comment, but he doesn’t. The way his eyes cast downward acknowledges some uninvited truth. Instead of running to his defense, Aqua hesitates: his silent admission makes her wonder if there’s justification to all this.

“You’ve given me little of a choice.”

“The hard or the easy way. It’s more than you deserve when his Restoration Committee has done everything you should have claimed responsibility for.” Lightning points to Leon, who hides half his face behind his hand before realizing there’s no point to his modesty.

“I suppose I cannot offer a token of peace,” Ansem says, not really a question. “An olive branch. A new Keyblade wielder for the cause.”

Aqua inhales sharply. Under no circumstances is it appropriate for her to meddle into world affairs by inserting herself directly into their politics, especially as a bargaining chip.

Ansem introduces her, “Keyblade Master Aqua. Competent, strong, a formidable survivor and a dear friend.”

She wants to bite back. She bites her tongue.

Lightning’s eyes are as light as a distant sky that they’re almost silver, and they glint at the recognition of her name. Solemnly (shockingly), she says, “You’re Terra’s wielder.”

But Leon scrutinizes. “Is he not around?”

“Not right now...” It’s far enough from the truth that it’s not a complete lie. Aqua’s always been terrible about that.

A muscle twitches in Lightning’s jaw. “I’m so sorry.”

Leon recognizes what she’s trying to say, losing the stiff nerve he had moments earlier as his eyes find a moment of silence in the horizon.

You’re Terra’s wielder. They expected him and Aqua would be inseparable.

Leon joins his partner by crossing his own arms, all the threads that grieved tying up again. “Aqua, welcome to Radiant Garden. We still have some growing pains to deal with.” He shoots an icy look towards Ansem that is so solid, it’s almost metal. “The conditions stay the same. You have until tomorrow to decide.”

As they turn away, their proclamations made, Lightning gives Aqua one more compassionate glance - at least as much as this woman is capable of making.

“That wasn’t appropriate,” Aqua murmurs to Ansem. It’s a sickly feeling to be used that way, a sour taste in her mouth. She wants to forget it ever happened.

Ansem studies the cobblestone beneath them. “There’s much in my life I will have to atone for, things I should have done instead of underestimating their importance. Things I should not have committed when I was blinded by them. I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.”

“Is it true that no one wants you here?”

“Aqua,” he breathes, “would you believe me if I told you that I was single handedly responsible for the destruction of two children’s lives?”

“...Children?”

“Two unique children.” He says it so assuredly that it sounds absurd. “Two unnatural children, unlike you and me, and I’ve reminded them as such. Would you say they have a right to exist?”

“Of course they do.”

“I wasn’t as kind.”

Aqua swallows bile.

Ienzo steps forward, his eagerness ready to scream. “We’re doing all we can to repent for this, and are already on our way with our plans.” Softly, he says, “I’m glad Sora is here. We can officially start our experiments today.”

“Then what shall I do for you, Aqua?” Ansem asks. I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.

“I need to find my Keyblade.”

He chuckles. “Does it resemble you?”

Aqua blushes. A Keyblade is meant to reflect the person, but it’s such a vain thought. “You could say that.”

“Then my castle is the best place to start.”

At the entrance awaiting them is none other than Lea, leaning on the wall like he owns the place. From where he stands, high atop a staircase that makes up for a hill, he had a good look over the action that transpired below.

“What’s the verdict?” he asks. Does he even have a right to know? Aqua has to wonder.

Ansem ignores him. Ienzo looks down on him as though he’s the one who’s taller. Lea brushes them aside with gusto.

“They’ve never been fun to talk to, anyway,” he tells Aqua when the bodyguards only give him so much of a passing glance.

She smirks. “Do you even belong here?”

“Please, I have better taste than this bunch. Zexion knows why I’m here and he hates me for it.”

“Who?”

“Oh right, he calls himself I-en-zo now.” He smacks his lips, the flavor unpleasant. “Doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

“Why would he hate you?”

“Over a dumb little thing.” He swats with his hands before hiding them in his pockets. “Dying’s not a relevant topic for Nobodies.”

“Did you kill someone he cared about?”

“Do I look like a savage to you?” Lea shrugs. “I actually targeted him - but look. He’s fine.”

Lea leads her inside. This place desperately needs a maid. Pipes line the walls, pummeling through holes and leaving dust and debris in crumbles on the floor. The castle itself is loud with overlapping voices in spitting debates about what procedures to follow next, with exhaust and machine whirring, with computer speakers flatly informing their users. Everything trails down the hallways, accepting the reality that it will be eavesdropped. It’s ugly compared to the Land of Departure, but Aqua figures that’s an unfair judgment.

She wants to be taken to where Terra’s body had slept for years during his apprenticeship. She doesn’t ask.

“What was Ansem’s choice?” Lea asks. “Leon and Lightning have been pestering him for an answer.”

“He still hasn’t given them one.”

Lea scoffs. “He’s delaying the inevitable.”

“What were the conditions?”

“He either gives them free reign to enter the castle and use its services as they need it, or they kick him out.”

Aqua stops, but Lea keeps his stride. “They would take his home either way.”

And he gestures for her to follow. “Do you blame them?”

“It’s not right.”

Now he stops. “This world didn’t exactly fall into the Realm of Darkness, but it made little difference. Heartless everywhere. Halls without voices. Sora’s a bright and lucky guy, a shining star, and he gave it back to the people. They madeshift an army out of no one, and brought their home back to life. Ansem did nothing.”

“You think it’s a just punishment.” Aqua shifts her weight. “I know about the experimentation that happened here. But that was all Xehanort.”

“Sure, but that makes Ansem a weak leader.” Lea steps close enough for her to get a good look into his eyes: a fiery emerald that is too polished, intense and nothing like she’s seen in other people. His pupils flicker something black, engorged with something vengeful. “For what he’s done to some vulnerable people, he doesn’t deserve the sympathy.”

Some. So it’s personal.

“I grew up here,” Lea continues. “There’s been witness accounts of moans and cries coming from the dungeon here. We all heard it. Yeah, that was Xehanort’s doing, but Ansem’s not deaf.”

He turns over his shoulder, leaving her stranded in a long, humid hallway where the steam leaks out. The castle struggles to breathe as though the pipes serve as its ventilators.

The Aqua before the Realm of Darkness would have turned her nose up to such scum.

The Aqua now believes she still would but… they both survived the Realm of Darkness together. They talked about memories of the sunset, of their favorite desserts that they’d enjoy if they ever went free…

And Ansem constantly repeated how much he deserved to watch the moon freeze in orbit for the rest of his life. It sounded so overdramatic at the time.

I will start with your forgiveness on this matter.

That’s a fate he’ll have to walk on his own. Right now, he’s somewhere in a room hashing away for whatever experiment they’re preparing for. Aqua doesn’t want to know a single detail.

She follows the last of Lea’s steps, taking the only hallway down until it lets her into an office, where it greets her with the face of a ghost.

A painted portrait hangs high on the wall opposite the entrance. Slashed just above the nose, the bottom limps and curls over. Terra looks good with brown eyes, but she doesn’t have to see the entire thing to know that his expression is ugly.

Lea rummages through books (if they’re in good enough condition). The office in general has seen better days, what with the singed furniture and ashy pools of dust littering the shelves. The walls have the scientific scribbles from someone hypnotized and the battle scars from someone flailing weapons and fire about.

Hypnotized, Aqua stands before the painting, gently rolling up the crumpled canvas to bring the face whole. White hair and with a faraway look in his eyes, Terra is a warm embrace and a creepy stranger all at once. She traces her fingertips at his taut jawline, the flat bumps of painstrokes unyielding and cold. This Terra will not and would never smile at her.

The pages of Lea’s books continue to sputter, but he’s only reading her. Aqua lets go and looks away.

Brisk footsteps stutter into the room. Ienzo rolls his eyes but doesn’t have to warrant a hello for Lea to ask: “Is this all of it?”

“The rest is in your imagination.” Now, Ienzo is confident, straightening his wrist cuffs with impeccable accuracy.

Lea’s usual bemused expression freezes. “I don’t like working too hard, Zex. You know that.”

The air between these two is electric. It needs to be redirected before it cracks a skull open.

“What are you looking for?” Aqua asks.

“All of Xehanort’s notes and diaries regarding his experiments,” Lea says like he’s looking for candy. Not batting an eyelash. Not hesitating, nor embarrassed. He’s turned into a different person in the blink of a moment.

“W- Why?”

“Old Ansem’s going to destroy them all. Isn’t he, Zex?”

Ienzo teeths. “Of course doing the right thing would be beneath you, Axel.”

“We shouldn’t be keeping any of it,” Aqua says. “Darkness like that in the wrong hands-”

“You’d be dooming us all,” Lea says, one hand on a hip. “We could find new ways to protect ourselves from the darkness if we knew more about it. We could make stronger barriers, or help those step away from the wrong path. How are we supposed to prevent people from repeating Xehanort’s mistakes if we forget they ever happened?”

“Those experiments were disgusting,” Ienzo says in broken murmurs.

“You’re going to tell me,” Lea says, only to Aqua, “that you’d parade about Keyblade wielders fighting the darkness without truly understanding it? Is that what a good teacher does?”

No…

“We have teachings we rely on,” is the best she could say.

“If it’s the same garbage Yen Sid rambles about.” Lea snatches a book from up high on the shelf, one of the few that was spared from whatever chaos ensued here, dust fibers hanging on for dear life on the edge of pages. Lea reads the cover. “Affairs of the Heart by the Master of Masters. Funny stuff.”

As much as she hates that book, he can’t possibly consider that ancient Keyblade texts are inferior to Xehanort’s self-obsessed, cock-bulleted disorders.

“How can you say that about something so important?”

“Thou shalt strut your holiness and scream at spiders because they look scary. Remember children, darkness is bad for you,” Lea mimics. “I’d be surprised if the Master ever spoke like this in real life.”

“He was a pioneer.”

“He was a quack.” Lea tosses the book on its back. “None of it is relevant anymore. I want to help Sora. I can’t do that on outdated superstitions you’re desperate to call science.”

“We are helping Sora,” Ienzo says. “The way we’re doing it will have nothing to do with darkness.”

“It better not.” Lea takes a breath to calm down. “But don’t act righteous with me when we both know your current methods are based on what Xehanort started.”

Aqua hasn’t known Lea for long, and yet seeing him unravel like this raises the hair on her skin. He’s otherwise so composed every second. She can’t imagine Ienzo hurting someone Lea cares about, and maybe that’s nowhere close to the truth.

“What kind of experiments are we talking about, here?” she asks Ienzo.

“The kind that rights our wrongs,” he says with worship in his voice. “The kind that gives our friends,” he glances at Lea, “the life they deserve. A chance to bring them back and make amends.”

“Xehanort’s not capable of giving anyone the tools to do good,” Aqua quips. They stare at her, and a destructive wave of shame washes over Ienzo’s face. Yet, nothing he’s promising sounds so bad. Why is it so difficult to accept?

“Burning Xehanort’s books will make sure we will never repeat his particular methods.”

“It won’t,” Lea stresses. “It would only lead you blind. You need them as a reference.”.

“Please do not worry, Master Aqua,” Ienzo says as though Lea isn’t in the room with them. “We would never endanger anyone.”

Lea snorts. “With Vexen heading the work?”

“Even is smarter than I am,” says Ienzo.

“He has little boundaries.”

“I will no longer bore the Keyblade Master with such trivial disagreements that have nothing to do with her matters.” Ienzo irons the creases on his sleeve with his hand. “Master Ansem has mentioned you were in need of help. You were looking for your Keyblade?” he asks Aqua.

Suddenly, she wants to leave this place behind.

“Is it blue and skinny?” Lea asks, flipping through pages. “It was way too small for Terra.”

“I seem to recall something like that in Xehanort’s possession,” Ienzo says, his chin dug into his fingers. “Or rather, Terra’s.”

“Terra found it downstairs.” Lea’s cynical gaze on Ienzo suggests some hidden language only they understand. “In the Superior’s chamber of all places.”

“How-”

“He had help.”

“We’ve set up security measures to prevent anyone from going back.”

Lea scoffs. “You didn’t notice it the first time.”

Aqua holds a hand to her chest. “Would he have returned it there?”

“The dungeons were where Xehanort conducted his work,” Ienzo says.

“And Terra doesn’t strike me as the masochist type to put himself through that hell twice,” Lea goats until his confidence wavers. “But if I think about it… he loves punishing himself.”

That depends on the what and the why.

“So it’s a possibility,” she says.

“If he went down there again, I would have noticed it,” Ienzo says.

“Whatever you say,” Lea says. “Repeat it enough times, and I’ll believe it, too.”

The wall where the painting proudly stands serves as the way through - a secret passageway to an armory of giant vials. Ienzo says they all used to carry hearts. When Aqua asks what happened to them, Ienzo replies with the hope that they found their way back to where they belong. Wherever that is.

At the computer terminal, Ienzo says he will not escort them.

Lea doesn’t think it’s a problem.

Aqua doesn’t know what difference it would make.

The way down is a stupidly long spiral staircase hidden underneath a trap door. The trap door itself is a terrible defense mechanism, but anyone with right minds would simply give up halfway down. Despite being so fit, Aqua is gasping for breath by the time she reaches the bottom, and Lea doesn’t fare much better.

“That bastard knew what we were getting ourselves into and never said anything,” Lea pants when they approach the door that opened up to a single, bleached hallway.

The air changes immediately when they enter, and the breath Aqua desperately needs turns sour. Weakness sinks heavy and creeps up her legs, shaking them into noodles. An airiness sits at the top of her crown, but she wills herself to stay standing.

This place sweats darkness. The walls cry, the floor drools, and the locked doors they pass writhe for a breath of fresh air. There’s been a lot of agony and screaming in these rooms. Aqua can’t hear them, but nothing in the Realm of Darkness - so primal, so omniscient, so ancient - compares to the sins that happened here. The Master always said that darkness is evil. Here is the proof, and here is her answer.

“Terra would never come back here,” she says, her stomach hurling sideways.

Lea acts like he’s taking a normal stroll. “Are you absolutely sure?”

“It’s torture. You don’t feel that?”

“Eh, I’m not convinced of poltergeists if that’s what you’re asking.” He snorts. “Are you old-fashioned Keyblade wielders always this sensitive?”

“I’m going to be sick.”

“As long as it’s not on my shoes, do it wherever you like.” He points down the hallway. “Come on, it’s just at the end.”

An open chamber awaits them. The room in here isn’t sickly - if anything, it’s dead. It isn’t witness to anything sinful; it’s just nothing.

But the layout of this place...

Aqua forgets she’s nauseous. “Who built this room?” she commands, storming inside.

It’s near identical to the throne room she left Ven in. Corrupted and sterilized, but still home. Whoever did it had to have known. The chair is a mirror image, as though Ven could easily nap here.

“Xemnas,” Lea says casually, arms crossed and leaning on the door frame. “Guess it’s his thinking room or… whatever he used it for. Censored reasons? I don’t wanna know.”

“That can’t be. That-” She grits her teeth. That means Xemnas was looking for Ven when he found me. That was all I was worth.

She wants to slap herself. The moment she learned he was Xehanort’s Nobody should have been the moment she stopped caring about his companionship. She doesn’t care. She’s just an idiot who should have known better of a voice living in the darkness.

At least Ven is safe.

Lea chortles. “I swear I can see the steam coming out of your ears.”

Aqua realizes she’s balled her hands into fists. “When I see Xehanort, I’ll make him regret he’s ever met Ven. I’ll make him mortified of the memory.”

“You mean Xemnas.”

“Why does that matter? I’m killing him. Anyone with Xehanort’s face.”

Lea gapes. “But not anyone with Terra’s face?”

She glares at him, and he holds his arms up to defend himself. “Forget I asked.”

“There’s nothing here,” she spits. “We’re wasting our time.”

Her fury gives her immunity from the hallway’s ailments, which is now still and quiet, except for the stomping of her feet all the way out. She’s blind, running through thoughts in her mind that don’t finish, clammy from the heat. She only sees where she’s going when she halts at the bottom of the stairwell, cursing her terrible luck that she’ll have to climb the entire way back up for nothing.

“You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she hears Lea say from behind her, his arms crossed.

“Excuse me?”

“For befriending Xemnas.”

Aqua draws a long, agonizing inhale. “Don’t mention his name again.”

Lea gawks, a mocking smirk spread on his lips. “Or what? You’ll spit bubbles at me?”

“I can make them hurt.”

Hands on hips, Lea leans forward and wags his face. “Xemnas, Xemnas, Xemnas.”

She snaps out of it, hiding her face behind her hand. Deadly bubbles sounded stupid as soon as the words left her mouth. Foolish.

Lea bursts out in laughter. “Terra must find your temper really amusing.”

Temperamental is not a description she’s proud to wear. Surviving the Realm of Darkness should have made her stronger than ever, not explode at every whim or thought.

“I wouldn’t have befriended Xemnas,” she murmurs, “in my right frame of mind. If he succeeded, then Ven...” She exhales, but it doesn’t cool her down.

Lea considers her, all his mischief flying away from his eyes. “Xemnas was really good with very desperate people.”

She stays quiet.

“You and Terra share that in common.”

“Hmm?”

“Self-flagellation.”

“I’m not…” Aqua brings her hand to her chest. Her heart thumps loudly, more sluggish than it should. She always relied on Terra to step around the corner and banish her awful mood. It’s hard to imagine him being this pathetic.

“He’s more whiny about it.” Lea breaks out a grin.

Then again, did Terra depend on me to do the same for him? If I’m not around, who does he turn to? Is that the reason why he went to Xehanort?

How much of his absence played a role in welcoming Xemnas into my life?

“Is it always that simple?” she asks. “Being deceived?”

Lea softens. “I find it hard to believe you’re easily tricked. If I say Knock, knock, you’d say, There’s no door.”

Aqua has to admit she cracked a smile.

“But it isn’t you, it’s Xemnas,” he continues. “Come to anyone who has nothing, who is Nothing, with promises of a better life and a reason to live - of course you’d eat the sweets out of his hands. He had twelve followers in the original Organization, after all.”

“I wish Terra believed in himself.”

Lea frowns: a boggy sight, something that slowly rolled over his face where he can’t find the smile again. “I had a best friend growing up. He joined the Organization with me. Smarter than me, one rank higher. Xemnas learned to confide in him really closely.”

She sighs. “That can’t have been comfortable for you.”

“Ha.” Lea flexes his shoulders. “Whatever purpose he found in that role completely changed him… but I guess the possibility was always there. He schemed long cons like they were children’s puzzle pieces - give him one clue and he’ll figure out who done it. He stepped ahead of every drawback that I swore he had psychic vision once. If you needed to get out of a tight situation, he was your man. There’s no one better.

“But he needed to be in absolute control, and eventually his genius ideas lost their brilliance and his visions lost their point. The moment he forgot who I was to him, he forgot us. That grass-eating bastard.”

“You’re hoping he’ll bounce back.”

“I have to hope, the same way you do.” He shrugs. “If Terra can make it, then Isa can make it. I’ll buy out every green vegetable that exists in this multiverse if it means I can hear him terrorize me with the way he chews his celery one more time.”

“Chews his celery?”

“Like a damn rabbit.”

She bubbles first, a warm turn in her chest before it spills out of her mouth. Then she can’t stop herself. It takes several seconds for her to recognize that laughing is familiar. Lea doesn’t join her, running a hand through his hair.

“I needed that,” she gasps. “Thank you, Lea.”

“You’ll be back at throwing empty threats when you remember what we got to do.” He nudges his head upward, toward the spiral staircase that’s too tall for them to see the top. “You really should work on those if you want to seem intimidating.”

“I shouldn’t make threats at all.” She takes the first step up.

“Sure. You’re too innocent for that.”

“It’s not dignified.”

“Well excuse me, Master Distinguished.” He huffs and puffs. They’ve barely climbed up ten steps. “Do you have any idea where Terra might have hidden your Keyblade if not here?”

“Home.” That’s the quick answer, but it would have been true if he had the chance. “Somewhere he felt secure.”

“He might as well have shoved it in his pants,” Lea groans. “The dungeon was the most secure place in the castle.”

~*~*~*~*~

Outside the city limits is nothing but badlands where the forests had been, darkening as the sun dips closer to the horizon. But as Aqua walks down the steps that lead her back to the town square, the badlands fade from her view, engulfed by rooftops with missing tiles and hurdles of white and yellow flowers here and there, doing a poor job at framing the steaming pipes.

Lea left her to commit to his work: How will I get the rest? Easy. I’ll tell Ienzo that if he doesn’t cough up all the reports, I’ll rip his heart out myself and find the first Heartless to feed it to. He’ll really believe I’ll do it… Don’t look at me like that, you know he deserves it.

A long way down to a dead end. Terra would have not wanted it to be this hard. With him, it never was, at least not until Aqua passed the Mark of Mastery with perfect scores.

Every step she’s been on since coming back was a stone, lodged on the surface of an ocean that stretched forever. Terra’s stepping stones, tracing his history from one clue to the next, and eventually she assumed she’d reach solid ground.

Now she’s on her last stone, with nowhere to go but to drown, as if he vanished before he was able to finish his path.

Aqua bumps shoulders with another woman, thinking of nothing but deep, black water.

“I’m sorry,” Aqua breathes. The woman has flowers tucked into a weave basket, some of them knocked over to the ground. “I’ll pick them up for you.”

“You’re new,” she says as Aqua scrambles. She’s feminine, eyes as dense as grass, her long brown hair beautifully arranged in a braid with a pink bow. “The new Keyblade wielder?”

Word travels too fast for Aqua’s liking. “Yes.” She hands the bouquet of flowers over, trying not to crush the petals together. “I’m Aqua.”

The woman gasps loudly enough for passersby to lurch over their shoulders. She leans in close enough for Aqua to only see green irises around dark pupils. “You look like an Aqua.”

Is ‘Thank you’ a proper response to that?

“I’m Aerith.” She looks over Aqua’s shoulders. “Is Terra with you?”

“He’ll come by later.” Aqua is relieved at how assured she sounds.

“Good. I won’t forgive him if he forgets me.” Aerith’s smile widens as she studies Aqua’s hair and her outfit. “You’re lovelier than I imagined. Have you met Lightning and Squall?”

“Squall?”

“Oops.” Aerith shakes her head at herself. “I meant Leon. Sorry, it’s so hard to call him that.” She clears her throat. “Leon won’t take back his birth name until Radiant Garden is sparkling again. But nothing’s ever good enough.” She pouts, jutting her bottom lip out. “Do you think it’s ugly?”

Behind Aerith is a wagon with more flowers. She’s the one planting them throughout the city in a feeble attempt to hide the rusty pipes.

“It’s charming.”

Aerith claps her hands. “You should tell him that. He’s such an oaf.”

Aqua thinks of Leon’s iron wall for eyes. “He’s certainly professional.”

“Oh,” Aerith murmurs, “did he scare you?” She snaps her fingers. “I bet Lightning did worse. They’re both idiots. Trust me, they’re mostly harmless.”

“Really?”

“Mostly. They’re thick.” Aerith tends to her basket, a memory brightening up her face. “Squall- I mean, Leon was my neighbor. We grew up together. He used to lock himself up in his room and I threw rocks at his window to get his attention. He’s still the same.

“Lightning went to the same school as us. A boy there - I think his name was Tseng - used to yank at my braid all morning before class. He had the biggest crush on me and I didn’t want to say anything… but I admit it hurt. Anyway, it drove her crazy, and when she had enough, she slammed his face onto his desk, breaking his nose. She met Leon at detention later that day. I don’t remember why, he was always in detention for talking back at teachers.

“Ever since then, the three of us have been inseparable.” Aerith giggles. “Terra reminds me a lot of Leon: sensitive and to themselves.”

“Terra’s not that mean,” Aqua says before she could stop herself, blushing behind her hand.

But Aerith is loving it. “That’s because he’s too smart for that.” She pauses. “You should see Tifa. Terra stayed with her and she’d love to meet you. She’s not far.” She points down an alleyway. “Just five blocks down and then you’d have to take the street to the left. Once you get close to the outskirts, you’ll see a sign for Seventh Heaven. You can’t miss it.”

“Oh, I-” It’s the polite thing to do. But Ven. “I have a lot of work to do.”

“I won’t forgive you if you don’t see her.” Aeirth winks, then adds for compensation: “It would make Terra smile. I believe it, deep within my heart.”

Maybe it’s the use of the word “heart” that makes it sound like a prophecy.

“Ah.” Aqua inhales. “I guess a short trip won’t be too bad.”

Aerith squirms - she’s restraining a knowing laugh.

“What?”

“It’s easy to get you or Terra to do anything if I hold one of you against the other.” She shrugs her shoulders as a way to hug herself since her arms are busy with the flowers. “That’s your secret weakness. All the heroes have one.”

#terraqua #aqua #lea #ienzo #lightning farron #squall leonhart #aerith gainsborough #kingdom hearts fanfiction #kh fanfic #i'm trying to finish the next chapter as fast as i can #my fic

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