#bonus points if you don’t realize you’re pacing in circles until The
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daily quest get dizzy from pacing around in circles
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A Life For A Life - Chapter 3
AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost
A/N: It took me a while to circle back to this one, but on the bright side, I’ve written ahead so the next two chapters or so should follow shortly after this one! :)
Prompt by @local-space-case: Prince Roman and his two loyal friends, Patton and Logan, are on the hunt for a dragon. Meanwhile, Dragonshifter!Janus is just trying to find the right herbs to cure a sick/injured Dragonshifter!Virgil. Bonus points for Anxciet and/or Protective Remus.
Word Count: 2006
Chapter warnings: Romantic relationships, Mentions of killing, Mentions of blood, Mentions of death/dying, Injuries, Poisoning (Let me know if you’d like me to add anything!)
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“By all standards, sire, I cannot recommend this course of action.” Logan stated, noting the frustration in the prince's eyes as he paced the cave's entrance. “There are far too many unknown variables involved here for me to conclude this is a safe course of action.”
“We can't just leave now, Logan.” Roman growled through gritted teeth as he gestured to the dark opening into the earth. “The beast was ours to take.”
“We are forbidden from entering the tunnels, my prince. They are far too dangerous.”
Roman let out a groan, looking helplessly at Logan's stern expression. “This journey is meant to prove that I am worthy of ascending to the crown. What kind of king would I be if I turned tail and ran at the very first sign of trouble?”
“A living one, Roman.” Logan sighed as gestured toward Roman. “This trial is not merely meant to challenge your physical strength but your wisdom as well. Your bravery is admirable, but your safety should be your first priority.”
“You said yourself the beast is unlikely to keep moving for much longer.” Roman pleaded, moving towards Logan. “More than likely all we need to do is retrieve our trophy. I'd wager we'd be in and out in under an hour.”
“I'm not so certain, your highness.” Logan whispered as he raised a finger to his jaw, pondering the situation. “Something has changed for the creature in the last stretch of the journey.”
Roman paused. His gaze lingered on Logan for a moment before following the man's gaze to the trampled undergrowth leading to the cave. “What do you mean?”
“At the last point where the creature has stopped to rest, blood had pooled on the ground.” Logan mused as he pointed to the trampled underbrush along their path. “I see no trace of blood here and I believe it is self-evident it is unusual that the trail seemed to end there.”
“How could that be?”
“I am uncertain.” Logan let out a breath, straightening his glasses. “But to me, this indicates there is even more reason not to interfere with forces unknown.”
Roman took in the look on Logan’s face for a moment before turning to the cave in frustration. “I know you’re right, but the beast cannot have healed itself. We may not know everything we are facing, but surely it is a simpler task than starting over.”
“Your safety is paramount, Roman.” Logan's gaze dropped and he crossed his arm across his chest. “We have to act rationally.”
“You have to be as disappointed as I am, Logan.” Roman interrupted with growing desperation. “Finding another feat to prove my worth could take weeks or months.”
“I know.”
“Logan—"
“It is still preferable to witnessing your death, Prince Roman.”
Roman paused. Logan's words felt ice-cold as the man’s empty stare remained trained on the ground.
“I cannot lose you." Logan continued. His muscles went limp with surrender as his façade dropped. “That would be a far worse outcome than needing to remain patient for the right opportunity.”
“Logan—” Roman dropped his voice to a whisper as he stepped toward the man. “—None of the feats that would satisfy the court of my competency are without risk.”
“Everything we encounter above ground is a calculated risk,” Logan clung to his reasoning, even as it slipped through his fingers. “but the underground of the forest is home to the most dangerous creatures in the world. Magical creatures, Roman.”
“Well, that’s why I have you, right?”
Logan’s eyes tipped to meet Roman's soft smile and his resolution to stop the prince faltered.
“If my strength fails, we still have your magic." Roman whispered with a smile. “Right. Lo?”
Logan’s heart fluttered, weak to the adoring glimmer in Roman’s eye as the prince caught Logan’s waist.
“I do believe it goes against the rules for me to help you accomplish your task.”
“I'm not asking you to help me cheat,” Roman reassured him, raising a hand to Logan’s cheek. “but if events take a turn and I'm unable to complete my task, you can get us out safely. Right?”
“You’re right. Strictly speaking, it is not against regulation for me to assist you in fleeing a failed task.”
Roman let out a soft breath as Logan leaned into his hand. “Then what are we risking, aside from a chance for me to give you your ‘happily ever after' a bit sooner?”
“Roman, your task is meant to be solitary.”
“My task is meant to show that the country’s leadership is in capable hands.” Roman whispered bringing Logan’s knuckles to his lips. “You are my strength, Logan. I would have to be a fool to ignore that.”
Logan felt a redness dust his cheeks as Roman’s fingers curled into his own.
“You are my shining starlight and I am so deeply in love with you that the rest of the world looks dull in comparison.” Roman breathed as he admired the subtle beauty of Logan’s smile. “I want to shower you with affection from the moment you open your eyes until you fall asleep in my arms at night. Hiding behind formality—Not being allowed to court you until I finish this trial—It's tearing me apart.”
“Roman, you are too good to me.” Logan whispered as the prince pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead.
“I do believe we just covered that I am not able to be good enough to you.”
Logan smiled at the prince’s chuckling. “That is not the issue. You are simply restricted by your position.”
Roman smirked as he brushed Logan’s soft hair out of his eyes. “Does that mean you’ll allow me the opportunity to ease the burden of our restrictions?”
“I'll follow you anywhere, Roman. If this is what you choose to do, you’ll have my support.”
“Good,” Roman let out a breathy laugh as he peeked over Logan’s shoulder at Patton's exasperated expression. “I'd kiss you right now, but I do believe your brother may consider regicide if I do.”
“No, my Cain instinct is much stronger than th—"
“He wouldn’t—” Logan hissed, hushing Patton with a glare.
Patton pursed his lips and stuck his tongue out at Logan.
“Patton, I swear—”
“Lo, relax.” Roman laughed, carefully catching Logan’s arm as he turned to scold Patton. “He's right. We have dragged him across half the countryside without considering his opinion.”
“It is his job.”
Roman grip on Logan’s softened as he glanced between Logan and Patton. “Job or not, Patton is more than an attendant. He's my future brother-in-law."
Logan blinked at Roman before letting out a reluctant sigh and shifting his gaze to Patton.
“You’re right.” Logan paused as Patton raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. “Patton, I’m sorry. This journey should have been a chance for you to know Roman outside of all the politics and I've been wasting that opportunity. Forgive me?”
Patton smirked as Logan extended him a figurative olive branch. “Only if you accept that when I meet my future husband, I get to be as disgustingly cute as you.”
Logan couldn’t help but let out a sharp laugh and shaking his head. “Deal.”
Instead of taking Logan’s hand Patton swept his older brother into a tight hug, squeezing around his waist. Logan relaxed as Patton hugged him tightly. His irritation melted away as his chest warmed with the realization that he had the two people he loved most on either side of him.
“Patton, this is going to be dangerous. If you want to wait for us here—”
“Not a chance you’re leaving me behind now.” Patton whispered as he raised his head from Logan’s shoulder, covertly wiping away a tear that threatened to fall from his eye. “This is my last chance to torment you before I have to start calling you ‘your highness’. I have to make every minute count.”
Logan smiled, glad to have Patton close as they started on the next leg of their journey. “You never have to change, Patton.”
“Thanks, Lolo.”
Roman smiled, stepping toward them as he gazed into the deep void of the cave opening. “Then, it's decided. The poison should be taking effect right about now. If we’re lucky, the beast will be dead by sundown and we'll be on out way home.”
---
“Virgil!”
Janus felt his heart drop as he stumbled to catch his lover’s arm. Virgil’s knees had buckled a half dozen times in the last hour and Janus was aching with the tension from the adrenaline pumping through his veins.
“I don’t understand. The bleeding’s stopped.” Janus let loose a string of draconic curses, feeling his scales burning with rage as he adjusted his arm to support Virgil. “Your condition should be improving—”
Virgil’s lip curled in sympathy as he forced a raspy whisper past his aching throat. “Jan, you know why—”
“Don’t speak.” Janus interrupted, immediately feeling regret twist in his stomach as Virgil’s grip tightened on his arm. His soft, fingertips felt cold on Janus' skin. “You need to save your energy.”
“The game's up, Jan.” Virgil started forcefully, blinking up into Janus’ amber, slit-like eyes glowing faintly in the dark. “We got deeper into the mountain than I ever thought we would, but it’s time.”
“Don’t you dare give up on m—”
“I'm dying, Jan.” Virgil spat out, stopping Janus in his tracks. “I’m dying and I don't want to die running.”
Janus felt a lump in his throat as his heart sank in his chest. “Virgil—”
“If I’m not going to die in the open air, at least give me the dignity of dying in your arms.” Virgil pleaded, desperation clear in his voice. “Don’t let me die cold.”
Janus head spun around as a loud, sound of rocks tumbling in the narrow twists of the caves behind them signaled their hunters closing in, a few minutes behind them at most.
“Please, Jan.”
The sound of Virgil’s broken voice made Janus weak. He couldn’t deny Virgil’s pleas, not when their last moments together may be approaching.
“It's going to be okay, Virgil.”
Janus' held Virgil close as his nostrils flared with a sudden heat. His lips curled into a snarl, face elongating into his more draconic features. His teeth hardened into sharpened points, stronger than steel. The bones of his ears stretched out over his shifting bones like webbing over a bat's wings. Finally, after a moment’s shift he could feel his wings extend behind him.
The subtle stretch of his delicate wings gave him a momentary sense of relief as he curled his long tail around Virgil’s limp form. Though still in between his humanoid form and his true dragon form, he felt immediately more at ease with his body.
“Hurry, please.”
Virgil’s voice was barely audible over Janus breathing but he immediately locked on to Virgil’s arm, covering his lover with his wing as a blazing, hot flame erupted from his throat. The bright light decorated the halls with moving flashes of orange and yellow dancing on the wall and when Janus finally pulled back a hot pile of glowing embers surrounded him and Virgil.
“Virgil?” Janus whispered as he tipped his wing up to look down at Virgil.
“It's perfect.”
Janus bit back a sob as Virgil’s hand dropped from his chest. He lowered them both to the ground, feeling his lover’s life leaving his body with each new breath. Orange light illuminated Janus’ face from the glowing embers below, dancing like gems in Janus’ glistening amber eyes.
“I love you, Virgil.”
“I love you to, Jan. You’re all I ever needed.”
Janus’ tail curled around Virgil as he completed his transformation. His long talons dug into the ground as his body circled Virgil, creating a comfortable nest for his lover to rest in peace. He let out a long breath as he watched Virgil’s eyes close comfortably before his fully transformed dragon head turned toward the sound of the humans approaching.
---
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@justanotherhumanstuff @im-an-anxious-wreck @shadowyplaidpurseegg
A Life For A LIfe Taglist:
@arodynamic-enby @pixelated-pineapple @simplestoryteller @bloodymari-0666
#sanders sides#ts#sanders sides fic#sanders sides fanfiction#sanders sides fanfic#ts roman#ts logan#ts patton#ts janus#ts virgil#logince#anxceit#intruality#...eventually#A Life for a Life#villain writes
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Five Senses: Sight (with Bonus Boy)
Billy Russo: You were the first thing Billy saw in his dreams overseas. No matter what horrors he had seen or committed that day, no matter how much blood was on his hands when he laid down to rest, no matter the dirt under his nails or the sweat on his skin, every night, he dreamt of you. And in his dreams, he was cleansed by you. In his dreams, Billy would see your bright eyes and that smile, that special smile you had for him and him alone, and no matter what atrocities he had seen or done, that smile would heal him. That smile, your smile, would warm him down to his bones--and that wasn’t a metaphor, it was true. Huddled in a flimsy tent with Frank and 12 other men, a freezing rain pouring down all around, nothing but a thin blanket and his fatigues to keep him covered, but Billy was warm. When he saw you, he was engulfed by your warmth, by your smile, by your love. Just the sight of you, dream or not, was enough to put Billy at easy, no matter where he was in the world. He’d memorized every part of you, and he pictured you, inch by glorious inch, when he needed your comfort. It wasn’t as good as being with you, of course, but it was a saving grace for him, and Billy was not a man who easily settled into being saved...unless his hero was you.
Logan Delos: Logan was a man of wealth and taste. He’d been born into his riches, and he’d become desensitized to many of the incredible things he’d seen in his time. He had seen sights that would leave an ordinary men speechless, had gone places that were normally closed off to public eyes. It didn’t faze him. Indescribable sights, things people would save up all their lives to see, seen and shrugged off within seconds by Logan. But the sight of you? Damn. You could drop him to his knees. Logan had just gotten off of his private Delos jet after spending a week lounging in the most decadent suite he could find in Abu Dhabi; the view had been described as “breathtaking”, but Logan hadn’t found himself having any difficult breathing as he looked out at the expansive city, drowned in orange by the sunset. But now, as Logan walked into your shared penthouse, he was breathless. You were laid out on the couch, the TV playing softly in the background, and you were fast asleep. It wasn’t an elegant sleep; you weren’t Scarlett O’Hara draped over a satin lounge chair, you were you, knocked out in the middle of the afternoon wearing one of his shirts. And you were, without a doubt, without exaggeration, the most exquisite thing he’d ever seen. Wordlessly, because he was speechless, Logan sat on the edge of the couch and reached out to you. Looking at you, your mouth slightly open, wearing his shirt, you arm splayed across your forehead, Logan felt himself melt. Truly, you were the most striking sight he had ever seen.
Jax Teller: Seeing Jax dressed all in orange, chains around his ankles, two armed guards on either side of him, should have made you sad. It should have made you realize that, as much as you loved Jax, he was a criminal, and moments like this were bound to happen again and again if you stayed with him. You should leave--now, while you still could. But when he sat across from you, and you looked into those blue eyes of his... You knew that you weren’t going anywhere. “Talked to my Mom earlier,” he said, settling into his seat, “she said my bail should be posted in a few days, and then I’ll be home... I’m sorry, darling, I know this isn’t what you signed up for--” “How much more does Gemma need for bail?” You asked, watching as his eyes widened. “Babe, you don’t have to--” “I’m gonna be your Old Lady some day,” you answered back, “I need to learn how to do this.” You watched as his smile spread, his eyes wrinkling. “You’re gonna be my Old Lady, huh?” He said back. You leaned forward, making sure he was looking right into your eyes. You could see a warmth in them when he looked at you, an affection there that was for you, and you only. “I love you, Jax, and I’m gonna spend the rest of my life with you. But in order to do that, we need to get you out of this place. So come on, tell me how much she needs to make your bail.” He chuckled, and leaned in as well, “You don’t realize how much I needed to see you...to hear you say that,” he reached out for your hand, and you looked down and smiled at the sight of his hand in yours, “You’re a sight for sore eyes, darlin’.”
Coco Cruz: The doctor said his eyes would heal, but it would be a while. And though he was a sniper, Coco wasn’t a patient man. You sat on the bed, watching him pace around in circles in your shared bedroom. “Coco,” you sighed. “What if my eyes never get better?” He asked, stopping and turning to you, the white patch over his injured eye wrinkled as he frowned. “Coco...” “What if I can never ride again? Or use a fucking gun? How am I gonna work?” “Coco...” He fell to his knees in front of the bed, and you reached out and caressed his face. His dark brown eye was watery with emotion, and you heart clenched at the pain you could see there. “What if I can’t see our baby?” He asked, his hand going to rest on your growing stomach. You felt tears spring to your eyes, but you held them back. “You will. Okay? The doctor said it can be treated, and it’ll take rehab and time, but you will see again. I promise you.” Coco nodded, leaning into you for a hug. You closed your eyes, wishing you could give him the gift of sight, wishing you could will him to heal faster. But you couldn’t. All you could do--all either of you could do--was wait. And wait you did. And the day your baby girl was born, the first thing she saw was Coco, his eyes filled with tears as he looked down at his newborn child. It had taken a lot of work, cost him so much time and pain, but it was all worth it when he could hold his baby girl in his arms and look into her eyes, his vision fully restored. It was worth the wait.
Angel Reyes: You and Angel had made your New Year’s resolutions together, and working out more had been at the top of the list. You’d both agreed that the two of you should exercise more, and it made sense to do it together and motivate one another, but now that you were here... You could see that it was a mistake. Watching a shirtless, sweaty Angel lift weights, his low grunts filling the air, was beyond distracting. It was erotic. He grinned at you, a dumbbells slung behind his gleaming shoulders. You wanted to lick the beads of sweat trailing down his tattoos. “You good, baby?” He teased, an eyebrow raised at you. You swallowed, your eyes unable to look away from the perfection that was Angel Reyes. “I--good. Yup. Good,” you said, watching the bulge in Angel’s shorts as he squatted down. “Mm, very well constructed sentence there,” he said, straightening up and placing the dumbbell on the rack. You stared at his ass as he turned around, and you felt your skin flush with the heat of desire. It should be illegal for one man to look so good. After all, this was a public place and here Angel was just being a fucking piece of art. “Babe, stop staring, you’re gonna make me blush,” he teased you, “Shh,” you dug into your pocket and pulled out your phone, “Don’t mind me. Keep working.” “Are you taking pictures of me?” “Maybe,” you answered, biting your lip as you snapped another picture, “Keep working out, this is good inspiration.” He laughed, doing as you said. By the end of your session, Angel had worked up quite a sweat, and you had amassed an impressive amount of sexy photos of your man. All in all, it was a good workout.
Miguel Galindo: There was nothing like the sight of Miguel in cartel mode. Every step, every glance, every twitch of his eyebrow turned you on. He stood behind his desk, both hands spread out over the papers and files that covered it, glaring at the men in the room. He was the very picture of power. You stood off to the die, summoned there to be a witness, your eyes fixated on your man. You watched the words spill from his mouth, you watched the men--powerful in their own right--visibly shrink as Miguel spoke. The topic of conversation wasn’t important to you; Miguel had all of your attention. You stared openly, your eyes going from his sinful mouth down to his large hands, watching them flex as he gestured over at the men. His eyes were hard, eyebrows furrowed as he showed his displeasure with his employees. Distantly, you heard their apologizes and his acceptance of them, but really, all you could do was drink in the sight that was your husband. He was in his element, as much as Miguel wanted to go legit, and as well suited to that world he was, he was a cartel man. It was in his blood. And it came naturally to him. You watched as he lifted his hand and pointed to the door; you could see the men scurry out from the corner of your eye, but your focus was on Miguel. He turned to you, a smirk growing on his kissable lips. “I can see what you’re thinking, mi amor,” he purred, “Why don’t you come over here and let me give you what you want?”
Nick Amaro: As soon as Nick saw you, he grabbed you. He held you tight, his eyes closing, visions of you hurt and afraid playing behind his eyelids. “I’m alright, Nick,” you assured him, whispering into the crook of his neck, “I’m alright...” He nodded, finally pulling back to have a look at you. There was blood on your face, and he reached out to wipe it, leaving a soft red smear on your cheeks. “Don’t ever do that again,” he huffed, his eyes boring into yours, “Never, okay?” “Nick,” you said carefully, running a hand through his hair, “you know I can’t promise that,” you watched his jaw clench, “if I’m the only thing between a perp and a victim, I’m going to stand in front f the victim, every time.” He closed his eyes again, trying not to see the truth in yours. “Nick,” you repeated his name until he opened his eyes again, “I’m fine. You had my back. Liv had my back. I’m safe, and so it that little girl.” You turned, taking his hand in yours. “Look,” you directed him gently. A few feet away, the little girl who’d been kidnapped was in the arms of her sobbing mother, safe and sound. The man who’d taken here was in the back of a bus, bleeding from the gunshot you’d given him. “We did that,” you told Nick, looking up at him, “Look at that girl. She’s the reason we do what we do. She’s the reason I can’t promise I won’t ever do this again.” He nodded, turning back to you and taking you in his arms. “I know,” he said, kissing your forehead, “Just... Next time, don’t leave my line of sight, okay? Can you at least do that?” You smiled, “I can do that.”
Johnny Tuturro: Johnny looked like a god, Apollo in the flesh. He was bathed in light, the rays of the sun shining on his brown skin, his smile wide and warm. You stood on the beach, Jakes on one side of you, Charlie on the other, and you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were staring at Johnny. And really--who could blame you? He, Mike, and Briggs had just come to shore after catching a few waves, and Johnny was looking like a freaking dream. “Damn girl, stop drooling,” Briggs joked as he walked past you, taking Charlie’s hand and leading her away. Mike and Jakes laughed, following suit, and you watched, not at all concerned with the others, as Johnny approached you. “Wanna take a dip?” He asked. You shook your head, your hands immediately going to his chest, “Why are you like this?” “Like what?” “Like... this!” You stepped back, gesturing to his everything. “Look at you! You’re freaking glowing, you got the abs all out... Keep playing, and I’m gonna put a baby in you.” Johnny laughed, and the sight of him, skin glistening in the sunlight, water pooling in the deep crevices of his collarbones, had you clenching with desire. He leaned in close, his mouth right on the shell of your ear. “Since you like watching me so much, how ‘bout we go home, and we can go the bathroom, and you can watch me break you off in the reflection of the mirror, yeah?” You grabbed his hand, nearly running back to Graceland, eager to see what he had in store for you.
Rio: You blinked, trying to test to see if you were dreaming. “R-Rio...” You gasped out. He stood in front of you, dressed in all black, a smirk on his lips. “Hey mama.” You jumped out of bed, but stopped yourself from running to him. He was dead. Rhea said he was dead. There hadn’t been a funeral, but she said he was dead and now... “I know,” he said, anticipating your thoughts, “I know. But, just look at me. Look at me. I’m here.” You looked at him; he had a beard now, and a nose ring, but it was him. He was real. He was here. “What...?” “It’s a long story, and I’ll tell you everything,” he answered your unasked question, “really, I shouldn’t even be here, but... I had to see you, baby. I had to see you.” You rushed towards him, burying your face in his chest as he held you. It had been months since you’d seen Rio, but it felt like a lifetime. You hadn’t really registered, until this moment, how much you had missed seeing him: his soft lips, his shorn hair and low lidded eyes. He was speaking to you, whispering that he was home now, and you pulled back to look at him. He looked different, harder, and you could see a change in him. “What happened to you?” You asked, your voice coming out in a whisper. “Remember the housewife?” “With the big boobs?” He chuckled, shaking his head at you fondly. “Yeah. She put three slugs in me,” he explained, and you looked him over, imagining the bullet wounds that you knew were under those dark clothes. “I’m good, mama. But I’m pissed,” he leaned down and kissed you, and your eyes fluttered shut as his lips moved against yours, “so you and me are gonna get justice.”
Bonus Boy
Chris Zapata: Baseball had never been your favorite sport. You’d found it boring and tedious. And then you started dating Chris and suddenly, you were standing up in the stands every week, screaming and cheering as he played. You sighed dreamily, your chin in your hand as you watched Zap on the field. He wasn’t really do much of anything--actually, he (and Maz, and Barone, and Vinny) were all watching Murray throw a fit in the outfield. But God, did Chris look good. It was getting late, and the sun was setting, and it seemed like the very last rays of the day were clinging to Chris’ skin, placing a halo around him. You could see from your spot in the stands the sweat glistening on his skin, could see his eyes widen as Murray threw his bat at the score board, and you sighed again. You couldn’t even be sure if the team was winning or not (Murray’s tantrum suggested they were not), all you knew was that Chris looked like an angel. Your heart stopped in your chest when Chris’ eyes met yours, and you watched a smirk grow on his lips. He knew you were watching him. He knew you couldn’t look away. The sight of him like this--in his element--made you weak. You couldn’t wait for the game to be over so you could inspect your man at a much closer angle.
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could you put these together with javi? i got them from one of the pomrpt lists!!! thank you!
when one of them is hurt by the antagonist… and their lover goes… absolutely ballistic and does everything in their power to get to the person they love, to the point in which the antagonist and it’s crew have to physically restrain them… and it still doesn’t stop them… they jsut keep kicking… doesn’t matter what happens to them… doesn’t matter if they get beaten in the process… as long as their lover is safe…
when they haven’t seen each other for a while (bonus point if they’re not sure the other one is alive) and all this time they’ve been trying to stay strong, but when they reunite, they crash into each other’s arms, and completely breakdown…
anon ur speaking my language here
warnings below the cut: cannon-typical violence, painkiller usage
--
javi spits out the blood in his mouth before turning his gaze back up at the sicario crouched before him.
it lands on the dirt floor of the basement with a wet sound. the sicario’s eyes--so strung-out that his pupils have been reduced to twin pinpricks of black against his sickly green irises--flick down to the puddle of red-black liquid before resuming his scan of javi’s face.
“the girl means a lot to you, huh?” the sicario has an all-too-familiar texan drawl, long blond hair stringy with the gel.
“where the fuck is she.” he grits out the same mantra he’d been repeating since he broke down the back door of the warehouse. the same mantra he’d repeated as he fought off two of the men, shooting one of them in the foot (twice) before he was overwhelmed by the other guards. the same mantra he repeated as they forced him to the ground, kicking his ribs until breathing was an issue. didn’t matter. he kept fighting regardless. it took two men to twist his arms behind his back like this, both of whom he got a jab or two against before they wrestled him to the ground.
“think that’s it. she your little play-thing? didn’t realize men like you still got hot for teacher.” the sicario cocks his head like a dog might, itching behind his ear with his glock in mock-thought. “though i suppose the whores get old after a while. y’know where we grabbed her? the fucking library. the whole sweet and innocent shick must really get your rocks off.” he laughs. a cruel, sharp bark. javi didn’t understand the meaning of blind rage until this moment.
“i’ll fucking kill you,” javi grits his teeth as one of the men restraining him twists his shoulder back even further. “i swear to god if you laid a hand on her i’ll--”
the sicario makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat, rolling his eyes and standing, as if even the suggestion was insulting. “not my style,” he pauses for a second, then gestures to one of the men holding javi down. “bull, however, if i decide to give him the chance...”
javi doesn’t register the surge of energy that has him attempting to struggle to his feet again. he only processes being pushed flush with the floor again, the sharp crack of pain that rolls through him enough to still the breath in his throat.
“i can get you money,” it’s hard to speak around the blood flooding his mouth but he manages. “money, information, whatever you want. whatever the fuck you want. just tell me where--”
the windows break all at once. javi stays flush against the group as the weight on top of him lifts, the sound of gunfire loud enough to have his hearing go to nothing more than a dull whine.
he doesn’t know how much time passes before someone rolls him onto his back. he coughs, something warm and wet covering his chin and rolling down the sides of his neck. someone’s voice is speaking to him, urgently, as a bright light is shone into his eyes but it’s nothing more than a murmur over the high-pitched tone bouncing through his skull. he thinks he might be saying something, might be trying to blindly bat the flashlight away because it hurts and he keeps trying to blink away the fuzzy haze that has settled over his vision. the world goes dark without warning.
--
you wake up in a hospital bed, heavy eyelids sliding open as your head rolls to the side. for a second you can do nothing more than take in deep lungfuls of air and listen to the steady beeping of the monitor to your right.
the painkillers getting pumped into your arm renders your tongue thick and heavy in your mouth, your throat dry enough that you can barely croak out a small: “javi” without wincing.
there’s a cool hand against your forearm, giving you a reassuring pat. you have to blink a few times before the nurse’s kind face comes into focus.
“he’s alright,” she tells you. her spanish, soft and sing-song and warm with relief, is as much as a reassurance as the hand she has on your forearm. something in you automatically relaxes. you think it’ll be a while before you can hear an american accent again without something within you curling in on itself with fear. without warning, the sicario’s face reappears in your memory, a jolting enough apparition that you squeeze your eyes shut again, flinching. the nurse notices, her voice growing even calmer. “he’s alright. resting, but alright. go back to sleep, you need your strength right now.”
you comply, though it’s not really a choice on your behalf. you just blink again and suddenly all other sounds fade, your eyelids sliding shut.
--
they make you down a meal of saltines and apple-juice before javi can come into the room.
you can see javi’s silhouette on the other side of the small pane of glass above the doorknob as you patiently work your way through the packet of crackers. you can’t help the loopy smile that overtakes your face while you see the silent movements of him arguing with the nurse outside. the frustrated way he throws his hands up and then starts pacing small circles in front of the closed door.
when you finish nursing the small box of juice that they gave you, the nurse who was helping you unwrap the saltines’ plastic sheaths--your hands too shaky to manage on your own, which was a bit embarrassing--stands and opens the door just wide enough to slip through.
you wait, entire body stilling as the two of them speak quietly outside, the monitor beside you betraying the beat of your hear. your breath catches in your throat as you see the knob turn down. it hesitates for a second before the door swings open.
you nearly start weeping when you see him. he looks panicked, wide-eyed and scanning you from the other side of the room as if you were about to break at any second. you swallow, opening your mouth to begin saying his name and--
javi crosses the distance between the threshold and your bedside in two long strides. you do your best to sit up to meet him half way, ignoring the whirring series of beeps that the monitors release with the movement. you collapse against him, his arms folding you against his chest with a touch gentle enough to demonstrate he at least absorbed at least some of whatever the nurse told him. you can practically feel the restraint it takes him not to crush you to him in reassurance that you were actually here. that this wasn’t some delusional mirage. he peppers the top of your head with kisses, one of his hands gently cupping the side of your face. his are shaking as much as yours are.
you don’t realize you’re crying until you pull back to look at him, cupping your palms against his cheeks and searching every feature, every new inch of swollen bruising, the stitches collected just above his brow that will no doubtably form a new scar for you to kiss before the two of you fall asleep each night.
“i’ve got you,” he breaths, closing his eyes and gently leaning his forehead against yours. your thumb swipes the under-eye of the unbruised side of his face as you look at him with relief, feeling truly safe for the first time in weeks. “no matter what. fuck i-- you--”
you cut him off with a kiss, something that’s both hungry and reassuring. he sinks against your mouth as he gathers you against the warmth of his body once more.
and it feels like home. it always will.
--
requests are open !
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the movie - Steve x Reader
pairing: Steve x Reader
prompt: hi! can you write a steve x reader fic where they’re having a movie night with robin cause they’re all best friends but robin ends up leaving early cause she had something to do so it’s just reader and steve and they start cuddling, reader keeps moving herself to try and get comfortable and doesnt realize she’s grinding against steve and he’s super flustered and hard and: smut happens. thank you! (bonus points if it’s super slow and sensual)
word count: 1.8k
warnings: smut n swearin’
a/n: sorry this took so long but I hope you enjoy!
===
Robin yawns loudly, then looks at her watch. “I think it’s time for me to head out.”
“What?!” you and Steve ask in unison.
“The movie just started,” you stress. “And Winona is in it – I know how much you like Winona!”
“Sorry,” she says, getting up with her jacket and shrugging it on. “The last two movies have been a blast, though.”
As Robin goes to leave, she gives Steve a subtle wink and he rolls his eyes. You and Steve had been dating for a while but had never really gotten much alone time – Robin dips out to give you both some space.
You say your goodbyes and then it’s silence, except for the television.
“We don’t have to keep watching,” you say. “You can go home.”
“No,” he says quickly. “No, I – I like Winona, too.”
You nod, smiling happily, and scoot closer to him. Steve blushes, but you don’t see it – it’s a little too dim right now, anyway. Your hand reaches for his and you wrap your fingers together, leaning slightly into him. The position gets uncomfortable quickly, however.
“Steve?” you ask timidly.
He hums in response.
“Can we – lay down?”
Steve swallows hard, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Yeah, th- that would fine.”
You both lay down, Steve wrapping an arm tightly around you, the other going underneath. You enjoy the feeling of his warmth on your back, smelling his cologne and detergent. You’re stiff for a few minutes before relaxing into him – you’d never cuddled like this before. It’s nice and you feel safe, as does Steve, and he really needs that.
But he feels something else when you try to shift.
You adjust yourself, feeling your shirt riding up and bunching underneath you. Then you adjust another time because you can’t get comfortable. Then your shirt rides up again.
Steve is trying to act nonchalant, but the feeling of you virtually grinding into him was making him strain against his jeans. It was uncomfortable and quite painful; he tries to adjust himself, but ends up just grinding on you, making your breath hitch. Steve clears his throat nervously, hoping you couldn’t feel him – but you definitelydid. Smiling to yourself, you press tighter into him, and he lets out a strangled moan.
“You like that?” you ask quietly. You try to sound confident, but you’re truly nervous. Your throat feels dry and your body feels hot.
“I’m sorry,” he groans, embarrassed.
“Don’t,” you whisper. “I like it.”
Steve swallows hard again, tightening his grip around you. He presses his pelvis up against your ass once more and you moan lightly. Steve reaches his hand up to cup a breast, and you bite your lip. He rolls his thumb over the fabric and his lips attach to your neck. You moan and press yourself into him and he moans back.
“Shouldn’t you be watching the movie?” he teases, lips tracing your jaw while he props himself up on his elbow to reach.
“Shouldn’t you?”
“I’m watchin’ something else.”
“Ooh, smooth talker.”
Steve rests his head on yours, giggling, and you giggle back. He surprises you by slipping a hand under your shirt and you moan as it fondles you.
“Hand is cold,” you quip.
“I’ll just warm it up here.” He stills his hand and smirks against your neck, kissing more.
“Bastard.”
“Is this the worst thing I could do to you?”
“Probably.”
He smiles again, then flips you onto your back. Your pupils are blown and hair a mess. He thinks you’re beautiful like this.
“Hey,” he says nervously. “Are you okay with this?”
“I’ve wanted to have you for a long time, Stevie boy,” you say, smiling. He crinkles his nose at the name, but you continue. “Please keep going.”
His lips meet yours quickly as he straddles you. His hands reach up into your shirt and you gasp and the cold and the sensation, letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. Kissing Steve makes you feel lightheaded and unbalanced, and you thank the stars that you’re laying down for this. His hands work softly and slowly under the cotton, enjoying how smooth your skin feels on his fingertips. He takes in every inch of you, trying to memorize it. His lips slip to your neck again and they kiss and suck. He listens to your gasps and moans, memorizing the best spots.
You tug on his hair to get him to come back up to your lips, then work your way down his neck. He hisses at the contact and squeezes his eyes shut, savoring the feeling of your lips on his neck. You kiss and lick, smiling as he slowly loses it. Your hands run up his shirt and you tug it off of him, gasping slightly as your eyes drink in his chest.
“My eyes are up here,” he jokes, and you roll yours. You sit up and take off your shirt, and now he gasps.
“Uh, my eyes are up here,” you mock, and he pushes you back down gently, kissing down your chest. Your eyes roll back as he kisses across your breasts, finally going and taking a perked nipple into his mouth. You hiss and he grins cockily.
“You like that, baby?” he asks against your skin.
“Don’t call me that,” you beg, but he gently nips your skin and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair.
“Okay, doll,” he says, then laughs, as if it’s funny.
“I could walk away,” you remind. You snake a hand down to his bulge and he hisses, burying his head into your skin. You smile. “Don’t want that, do you?”
Steve groans and pulls you up, chests pressing together as you kiss. You lose your balance, but his arms are around you, steading you.
“Bedroom?” he breathes.
“It’s here somewhere.”
He sighs and snakes his arm down to the waistband of your sweats. He slips his hand in and it finds your underwear, and he dips a finger under the fabric to feel how wet you are. You gasp at the contact, and he smirks. “I could walk away.”
Quickly, you push past him to the bedroom. He follows you closely, seemingly hypnotized as he watches you. You turn around and twirl him so that the back of his knees are against the bed and he lowers himself down. You straddle him and he swears he died and went to heaven while you kiss him, grinding yourself into him. You slip off after a moment and reach down to his waistband, looking at him for approval. He nods curtly. Your lips meet his again as you slowly unbutton him. His hips buck as you undo his fly, and he lifts his hips off the bed to let you take his jeans off. You rub him through his briefs as he moans into your mouth.
“Wanna see you,” he whispers against your lips. His hands go to your sweats again and you nod. He takes them off slowly, letting the fabric tickle your skin as it runs down your legs. You step out of them and climb onto the bed. Steve crawls on top of you and his hips buck into yours a few times as he relishes in the contact.
“Steve,” you whisper. Your eyes meet and you smile softly, reaching up to cup his cheek. He leans into it, enjoying the softness. “You’re so handsome.”
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers back. “So beautiful, Y/N.”
You pull him down one last time and he slips your underwear off. A finger lightly rests at your opening and you moan, nodding to let him know it’s okay. He slips it in, and you choke on a gasp, head burying into the pillow behind you. Steve whimpers at how tight and wet you are, making eye contact the entire time. Watching you is the most sinful thing in the world, he reckons, and starts to pump in and out as you write underneath him.
Not wanting to neglect him, you push his underwear down with your feet. He goes to crack a joke but his cut off by the feeling of your warm hand on his length. He’s in bliss, eyes squeezing shut again as he continues his pace, and you start yours. You match speeds and it’s so hot, too hot, and the coil in your guts builds way too soon.
“Steve, please,” you whimper, and he’s not one to say no. You point him towards the bedside table, and he grabs a condom, ripping it with his teeth, winking at you with a smirk on his face. After putting it on, he lines up with you and his hand rests against your cheek, forehead on yours.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
Steve pushes in slowly, both of you gasping. He settles into you and you groan, adjusting for a moment. Steve runs his thumb over your cheekbones, and you nestle your head into his touch. After a moment you nod, and he pulls out before thrusting back in.
It’s an electrifying feeling, making your stomach flip. Your eyes stay locked with his and his lips part slightly, a groan low in his throat. It’s soft and slow, and you can feel every part of him. His skin against yours, soft and warm; his heartbeat in his chest; his finger, still rubbing your cheekbones gingerly. You reach up and cup his face again and he sighs happily, a smile forming on his face. His hand leaves your face and you frown before feeling his fingers rubbing circles onto your clit, feeling just right. You let out a strangled moan and Steve does the same in response, pressing a kiss to your forehead.
“You okay?” he breathes.
“So okay,” you breathe. “You feel so good, Steve.”
Steve goes a bit faster now, but still slow enough that you can feel the roll of his hips. He presses open mouthed kisses to your neck, moaning all the while. You think his moan has to be the hottest sound alive, and you feel your stomach tighten.
You go to say that you’re close, you’re almost there, but what comes out is “I love you.”
Instead of stopping and leaving, he moans loudly. “I love you.”
Steve rests his forehead on yours again as you both reach your climaxes, spurred on by the confession. You both whisper it back and forth, louder and louder, until you both cum at the same time, kissing sloppily but slowly, happy to feel the other one. He rests his head on your chest and listens to your heartbeat as he catches his breath, and you play lazily with his hair.
“Did you mean it?” he pants. “Do you?”
“Of course,” you smile. “I love you, Steve.”
You feel him smile into your skin, and he turns it to place a kiss above your heart. “I love you, too.”
===
@harrington-ofhawkins @comedy-witch @harringtonisadingus @sassisaluxury @gothackedalready @willowrose99 @pxtrickhxckstettxr @wolfish-willow @harringtown @m-blasterrr @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @the-almond-dinger
#steve harrington#steve harrington x you#steve harrington oneshot#steve harrington smut#steve harrington x reader#stranger things oneshot#stranger things x reader#stranger things imagine#stranger things smut#did u like how I broke the 4th wall with a winona movie.#??*#I never use periods! wack#anyway love u enjoy
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Is the small teaser, for the next smut for Limerence, ready to be released yet?👀💕
Ouuu Babe, it’s here to be known lol
Thanks for reminding me! I swear, I have the memory of a goldish so I need as many reminders as you can get 😅
Take care, and enjoy~!
Rating: NSFW
Warnings: Hair pulling, mild choking, fingering, orgasm denial, overstimulation, edging, squirting, public sex (kinda?), D/s undertones, dirty talk, rough sex, mild temperature play, penetrative sex, angry sex, creampie (wrap it, people!), begging, finger sucking (I listed all warnings regarding to the overall chapter, but not everything will be found in the teaser).
Words: 1089 (a tiny tease 😅)
Notes: WIP; not edited and subject to change, loves :) As I mentioned before, this is a teaser for the upcoming bonus chapter, not chapter 34 because I don’t wanna spoil anything! So enjoy, everyone, and thank you for supporting Limerence 💜
Odaxelagnia
(English/n.) Sexual arousal from biting or being bitten.
~ Ying Yue Jiang ~
The way his fingers glided, effortlessly wrapping each slender digit against my throat with a low snarl. My breathing hitched, swallowing hard as my lips parted, a single whine escaping from his hot touch. It was a dangerous mix of lust and thoughtfulness – golden eyes ablaze as he towered over my figure.
I tried to speak, but I found myself unable to whisper a damn word.
Zuko was going to kill me.
I was sure of it.
“Having fun?” Zuko hissed breathlessly, a sadistic chuckle leaving his parted lips as I watched him. His forehead was pressed against mine, hair still wet, leaving droplets over our exposed skin. The music was blaring, people oblivious to the way Zuko’s free hand lingered down my body, memorizing every curve.
His fingers danced along the silky fabric, playing with the low-cut neckline. My bottom lip rolled between teeth, feeling the way he brushed the skin of my exposed breasts, his thumb tauntingly pushing and pulling the fabric dangerously low. His palm grazed my hardening nipples, adding another unexpected sensation in the mix.
My breathing started getting heavier, seeing the way he clenched his jaw, his gaze never once leaving mine. I whined under my breath, unknowingly arching my back against his teasing touches, and I saw the way Zuko’s eyes darkened.
His hips snapped against mine, forcing himself between my legs. A low moan escaped me, eyes fluttering shut as the grip on my throat tightened. “Zuko.” I moaned eagerly, feeling his hard bulge rubbing against my core. My head was spinning, panting, feeling the way Zuko’s fingers heated on my skin, purposely digging into my pressure points.
“What’s wrong, baby? Is someone fucking needy? It didn’t seem like you needed me two minutes ago – dancing happily with some man.”
“It was an accident, I thought he was Suki-” I protested, but another sharp wheeze escaped me as I felt his hand fall from my breast onto my thigh. He can’t be serious-
I bite my lip, my hands falling over Zuko’s shoulders. The harsh slap against my bare thigh went unnoticed by how gaudy the instruments played, roughly lifting my leg, so it was comfortably resting over his hip.
“Was that it? An accident?” Zuko mocked, mimicking my innocent tone as he wickedly kissed his teeth. My dress started to roll up, and I blushed, realizing how exposed I was.
“Zuko, someone is going to see us-”
“You should’ve thought of that before, baby. Now, suck.”
His fingers moved up my neck, slipping between my lips, and I did just that - suck.
I moaned, letting my lips pucker, tongue flicking between those long delicious fingers of his. The way Zuko ran his tongue along his pouty lips, leaning forward and brushing against my ear.
“Mmm, you’re my good girl, right, baby?” Zuko growled huskily, sucking and biting my neck. I whimpered between those slender digits, nodding my head instinctively at his dominance. He laughed, enjoying how fast I melted under his controlled touches. His hot breath tickling my bruised skin as he pulled back to admire the messy sight in front of him.
Zuko’s fingers drew circles on my thigh, inching his way closer and closer to my soaked core. I bucked my hips, wanting so desperately to feel him against me, and Zuko hissed. He slammed his hips against mine, and my eyes rolled back, the head of his cock flawlessly hitting my clit. He crudely gripped my ass, making sure I stayed put between the wall and his body, rolling his hips in sync to the heavy beat.
For a moment, I forgot that I was still sucking his fingers like a newborn, mouth dropping as I moaned blatantly. It feels so good, a slow and tantalizing tease.
“Look at you; I haven’t even touched you.” Zuko chuckled, and I could feel my whole-body flush in embarrassment and lust. There was a visible wet spot on Zuko’s pants, and I could feel my heart beating faster. I was overwhelmed – torn between wanting to stop this and the need to have him fuck me senseless in the middle of this damn room.
He pulled his fingers from my mouth, spit stringing from my lips, and it was then I realized what he was planning. My eyes widen, my mind screaming to stop this, but the moment his hand snuck its way up my dress, fingertips playfully running up my slit, I whimpered.
“You can dance with as many guys as you want, love – but you feel this?” Zuko whistled, his fingers pushing aside the lacey fabric of my panties, freely caressing my slit. The sound of my slick against his prodding fingers was clear as day, and I blushed, “I’m the only one who can get you this fucking wet, baby – your body knows who it belongs to.”
Not a second later, two digits entered me, and I swallowed back a scream of desire. My eyes rolled back, “Oh gosh, Zuko. Please-please, fuck me.”
“You’re not getting fucked by me until you fucking learn. So, tell me, baby, who does this sweet cunt belong to?” Zuko hissed, pumping his fingers at an agonizingly slow pace. I could feel my eyes watering, bucking my hips to quicken his pace. I need more; I need more of Zuko right now.
“That guy other there, or me? Do you think he can get you this fucking wet? Begging?”
“N-no, I’m sorry. Please, Zuko. I need more.” I sobbed, the pleasure building up in my stomach like tight knots. I struggled to focus, Zuko curving his fingers, and hitting that sweet spot inside of me.
“Someone isn’t so shy anymore, getting this fucking wet in public.”
“Zuko, please. I-I-ahh~” I cried, his pace fastening. It was so much at once, my legs shaking as I fell into Zuko’s chest sobbing in bliss.
“Please what, baby? You know the fucking rules, do I need to teach you how to beg, again?” Zuko warned, grunting in my ear as I drooled.
“N-no, I’m so close, please.”
“Aww, baby. You’re going to cum?” Zuko teased, his thumb brushing my clit, causing me to jolt. My walls clenched against his fingers, practically sucking him in as I moaned loudly into his shirt.
“Y-yes, Zuko. I’m-I’m going to cum.”
“That’s too fucking bad; only good girls get to cum.”
#zuko smut#atla zuko#prince zuko#Zuko x oc#Zuko x reader#ask me anything#anon answered#Limerence#fire lord zuko#A tease before the meal#The smut is real
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hi!! i love your writing!! could you write a jurdan thing where jude walks in on cardan masturbating to her and finishes the job? (bonus points if it’s during the wicked king) ily
He takes a step toward me. “The other night—”
I cut him off. “I did it for the same reason you did. To get it out of my system.”
“And is it?” he asks. “Out of your system?”
I look at him in the face and lie. “Yes.”
If he touches me, if he even takes another step toward me, my deceit will be exposed. I don’t think I can keep the longing off my face. Instead, to my relief, he gives a thin-lipped nod and departs. - The Wicked King
Dinner is a tense affair. My heart still pounds from my bold-faced lie. I expect to be called out at any second, but it never comes. I should have known, Cardan likes to torture me in less obvious ways. I sit at the far end of the table and eat nothing, my stomach turning, as Nicasia laughs heartily at every comment Cardan makes. I can’t hear the conversation, but I know Cardan isn’t as amusing as Nicasia wants it to seem.
I strain to look straight at my plate and not let my eyes wander as Nicasia’s fingers trail daintily up his exposed forearm. Cardan catches my eye, and I’m once again sucked into the dark vortex of his eyes. Drink sloshes from Cardan’s cup as he raises it to his lips, spilling onto his chin, and I can’t look away as Nicasia moves her thumb to wipe away the droplets from his jaw. My teeth hurt from how hard I clench my jaw as I watch him lick the sticky sweet liquid from her red-stained fingers, his eyes never leaving mine.
It’s a battle of wills to see who will look away first, and it’s one I refuse to lose. Yet, when he looks to NIcasia and holds out his arm to her, to escort her through the gardens, I don’t feel like I’ve won.
I head back to my room, not feeling up to being around the Court of Shadows. Their card games and tricks only remind me of Cardan now. I sit at my desk, trying to read through briefs and treaty proposals, but all I can think about is Cardan’s lips on Nicasia’s.
All it’d taken were a few kisses, he said. And she’d spilled the Undersea’s entire plan. So why, then, is he in the gardens with her, most likely kissing her again right now? They already have the information they need. I feel nauseous at the thought of the fingers that brought me so much pleasure the other night, now exploring Nicasia’s willowy body or tangled into her dark blue hair.
I remind myself that I wanted this. That I told Cardan our night together was just to satisfy an urge. And knowing Cardan, he has a lot more itches he needs to be scratched. Still, I lie awake, restless and unable to sleep as I can’t stop imagining them together.
Before I can convince myself otherwise, I don my jacket and head down the winding halls towards Cardan’s chambers. I don’t know what my purpose is, except to interrupt whatever amorous activities he might be up to with the Princess of the Undersea, and I haven’t thought of anything to say when I arrive at his doors. Luckily, his guards seem unaffected by my late night presence and let me through, regardless.
The door to his bedroom is ajar, and I approach slowly. But when low moans and heavy breathing filter into the room, I stop where I stand. Regret fills me, and my head spins with upset.
I have no idea what I’m doing here. And I certainly have no desire to see whatever is going on in his bedroom. I’m ashamed at my jealous – yes, jealous – heart. As I begin to backtrack, I hear his low voice groan something that sounds like my name. He says it again, louder. For a second, I think maybe he’s called Nicasia by the wrong name in bed, and I wait to hear a slap and whatever other noises come from the dirty games they play together. But instead, my name gets called out again.
“Jude!”
My heart pounds as I realize that he’s heard me come in, and is calling for me, and I have no reasonable explanation for why I am there.
With the most bravado I can muster, I raise my chin and enter his bedroom.
Only, he has most certainly not called for me. Not on purpose, anyway.
Cardan lies, stretched out on his giant bed, completely naked. His skin glows in the blue-grey light of the moon, making him look almost like he’s glowing. A flickering candle burns next to his head, releasing the heady scent of pine sap. My eyes scan his naked body, trailing from his strong shoulders to his narrow stomach, all the way down to where his hand lies wrapped around his thick erection.
I watch with curiosity as his hand swipes up the length, and his thumb squeezes the head gently before rubbing the tip, and then returning back down. His hand moves in slow, lazy movements, and I don’t even realize I’ve taken steps into his room until I hear him call out my name again.
I know I should leave. I’m encroaching on dangerous territory. I need to tear my eyes away, but I can’t. My breath becomes shallow as I continue to spy on my king. And my feet unwittingly move forward, until I stand, perched at the edge of his bed.
His eyes are screwed shut, and I want to know what it is he’s thinking of me. Is he imaging my inexperienced hand around him. I certainly fumbled with him far more than his well-versed grip.
He moans my name again, low and pained, like a sacred prayer, and I can’t help but answer him.
“Yes?”
His dark eyes flutter open, and his breath catches as he sees me.
“My imagination isn’t this good,” he whispers. His eyes are slightly distracted with the effects of the wine he consumed at dinner as they wander my face, so I finally lean forward and touch my lips to his.
He groans against me, and I’m a mess. I kiss him back, lost to him and his talented mouth.
“You’re real,” he chuckles to himself as I pull away. “You’re really here.”
I nod and climb onto the bed next to him. He makes room for me and lets his hand trace circles on my knee.
“Why?” he asks, and I still have no answer.
He watches with unnerving focus as I silently remove his hand from where it’s still wrapped around his length. I replace his hand with mine. He feels hard and heavy in my palm, and not at all like I remember from the other night. Then, I was too overwhelmed with my own sensations of pleasure, his fingers inside me doing things I’d never felt before. But now, I’m a disciplined student, ready to learn.
“Show me,” I command, and he covers my hand with his own. Heat seeps through my fingers as he guides my hand up, squeezing gently at the top. “Like that?” I ask, feeling nervous and vulnerable for the second time this week. But Cardan doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yes,” he replies. His guidance is interspersed with a breathless symphony of whimpers as my hand continues to stroke him.
“Faster,” he instructs, and I increase my pace at his behest. I watch every movement his body makes. His rising and falling chest. His hips, as they start to lift off the bed and into my hand. His tail, coiling around his leg until it’s taut, and then uncoiling again. I’m watching him come undone under my hand, and it is everything I didn’t know I always wanted. I will never pleasure him with my eyes closed again.
“Faster,” he repeats. His voice breaks, and his fingers strain curl into the flesh of my leg. It’s all he can reach at the angle I’m sitting. His neck strains as he struggles to keep his head up, but his eyes never leave me. Even when I look down at my hand, which moves faster up and down his erection, he still stares.
“Jude,” he cries. “Jude, Jude, Jude.”
My name is a chant, a plea to the Gods. I hear the raw anguish behind it – as if he doesn’t know if he loves or hates what I’m doing to him. And I can’t say I don’t relate. My hand moves even faster. I can tell he’s nearing the end. His muscles shake with fatigue, barreling towards that fever pitch.
“Kiss me,” he says.
His hand covers mine again as our lips meet in an unhurried kiss. It so starkly contrasts the pace of my hand, I’m unsettled by it. His tongue curls around mine, and I can feel him almost there. My hand squeezes ever so slightly harder, and his teeth sink into my bottom lip as he grunts into my mouth. His hips go wild, thrusting into my hand with reckless abandon.
When his hips finally still, I pull away. It’s only then that I notice that my lip is bleeding. A bright red dot splashes onto his pale skin. It rolls down his stomach next to the white fluid that marks his pleasure, and for some sick reason, I want to taste it.
I begin to reach for him, but he grabs my hand. His eyes are darker than I’ve ever seen, laced with fury, as he wipes the stickiness from his stomach and chest with a cloth from his nightstand.
He sits up suddenly, and I watch as his brows furrow as he looks at me. I feel completely exposed under his prying gaze, despite the fact that he is the one naked, and I am still fully clothed.
He kisses me softly once more, his lips delicately pressing against mine, as if I’m a toy he’s afraid to break.
“Is it out of your system now?” he dares to ask.
And this time he knows I’m lying when I say, “Yes.”
~*~*~*~
tag list:
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"Someday, You'll Come For More"
Mandalorian x Fem!Reader
Summary: In a hurry, Mando leaves the child in the care of a whore. When shes so good with taking care of the child, it becomes a constant. Though, what happens when he comes in for some other type of care?
A/N: finally, my idea comes to flourish on this beautiful day. Original idea stems from {THIS} post I made not too long ago. Ans thank you for the extra bonus idea from @lalablue0
Warnings!: SMUT! Male receiving oral, fingering, multiple orgasms, a whore house.
2k words
It was just looking for someone to take care of the child.
He still remembered the confused expression on her face, the simple explanation he gave. No one would think to leave a baby in the care of a whore.
This was the fifth time, now. And he wasn't quite convinced that he was only coming for the caretaking. He only asked for you. And if you were busy, he waited. Even if the matters were urgent. And when you emerged, you was always glowing. A sheen of sweat on your body, the littlest pieces of clothing covering just what needed to. And you smiled whenever you saw him,
"Eventually, you'll come here without the child, and wish for a different type of care," you always spoke, with a low, husky confidence. Brushing your hands over his arm, giving him a sweet, almost caring look. Knowing. He hated it.
You were right.
"I want Y/n," he asked the woman upfront, who's eyes were too far apart, and hair too slime green for her dimpled skin. Her chair was about to fall apart, though she acted like it was a throne. He didnt like her cockiness. Not in the slightest.
"Ah, you must be the father she talks about," the woman hummed, and pointed directly to his right, where some rusty metal stairs led to a dark hallway. "She's in the first room to the right. Have fun. Don't be too loud-"
He wondered if he should turn back. Lorian felt dirty and gross, hearing sounds of woman and men moaning, screaming. It was a lot to take in for a little dingy place. But he nodded, and turned to the stairs. Biting down on his lips beneath the helmet.
The sounds only got louder as he stepped up, a faint glow from the ceiling. Candles lining the floor. It hadn't been swept in....maybe ever. And every step he took made a loud clank. Yet when the idea of turning around popped into his head, it was easily dismissed, especially when he laid eyes on your door, name sprawled in the most basic of lettering. Almost lazily. It was cracked open, revealing the dim pink hued light. He didnt hesitate to go in, not bothering to knock. Did anyone knock in a house like this?
You turned her head, a docile look on her face, until you realized who it was. You immediately broke into a bright grin, lips slightly parted. Almost tempting. Fuck.
"No child, this time?" You asked, getting up from your soft bed. Sheets a light pink and blue, patterned like a tapestry. Alluring guests into the pretty place.
"No," he said, letting out a sigh. He hoped it wasnt as audible as it felt, like how heart escaping from him as he looked at you. Stunning. With a sheer top covering the bare minimum, it so short he could see the Crest of your breasts. A long skirt flowing, with a slit all the way up. It was one of the most beautiful sights he had ever seen. Natural.
"Can't say I'm surprised." You smirked, drawing yourself closer to him, laying a finger on his chest plate. "What I can say is, I'm very excited."
"What?" He questioned, looking down at you with some shock. He stood at over you, looming, but not in a defensive way at all.
"You can't pretend like your whole mandalorian gig isn't fucking hot. And your voice, the way you take a room." You ran a hand down lightly, cold metal against your skin. "And kind at heart, too. More than most of my clients."
"Lorian," you spoke, lips parted, face lit so slightly by the candles by the bed. "Can I call you that?"
"Yes," he breathed, breath hitching as your hands wandered to his, grasping them lightly.
"Let's start with these, then?" You gently pulled at his glove, removing it so easily. Your skin finally touching his.
It was a blurr, how you led him to your bed, taking time to undo his armor, leaving him with only his thin linen shirt and boxers. With your thighs pressing against his, slowing grinding down onto him. Maker, is was painfully hard under you. He barely kept his hands to himself, wandering from your hips to her breasts, needing the touch, the rawness. The release that was to come. He craved it.
You pushed down the rest of the fabric between his cock, revealing his thickness. Yiu couldn't hide the surprise "of course you'd be huge.."
"I don't know how I'm gonna fit this inside me," you muttered to herself, though he couldn't help but hear. You wrapped your fingers around his dick, stroking him lazily a few times, precum already dripping down. "Fuck."
He wove his fingers through your hair, grasping for his life. You licked a stripe down his length, then inched her mouth down his dick,taking as much as you could before gagging. It was agonizing, how slow you was going. With the sight of the literal goddess. You casually looking up at him, humming on his dick, caressing his thighs and balls. It wasn't long before his cum shot down your throat, and you were able to come up, planting kisses on his open chest as you did.
The pulled you down to the bed, towering over you, resting between your legs. One of his rough hands traveled from your inter thigh, circling it's way up to your breasts. Cupping and kneading them with such ease and care.
His fingers dipped into you, two at a time, knuckles deep before he curled them inside you, pumping in and out with a growing pace. You moaned into his touch, hands gripping his shoulders. You wondered how much experience he had, but your job wouldn't allow to ask questions. He certainly acted like he had many, but you wouldn't be surprised if it was few and far between.
His palm pressed against your clit, rubbing it with every move of his wrist,fingers hitting that spot just right, you were so close to coming undone right on his fingers. "Fuck, Lorian, keep going-"
He panted along with you, the sight so sinfully beautiful. The sight of you trembling because of him, cumming for him, face hot and eyes nearing tears of pleasure, just because of him...the idea almost had him cum right there.
"Yes, yes, fuck yes!" You moaned, pressing your lips onto his shoulder, sucking and biting onto the skin as you came, humming approval against his skin. Hips bucking into his fingers. He kept pumping til you sat still, eyes blown out in lust. You took time to get off of him, bringing him into a seated position, running your hands along his arms. Triceps.
"Do you like tits or ass better?" You grabbed onto your own breasts, wiggled your butr a little bit. His hands reached out to your ass, grasping so yard, you were sure it would leave marks in the morning.
"Of course you're an ass man. Okay, big boy. Fuck me." You turned around, pressing your ass up against his crotch, grinding into his length.
He carefully pushed into you, taking his sweet time to adjust to the tight feeling. And you to his huge cock. A long, drawn out moan fell from your lips. You were going to be the death of him, he was so sure of that now. Sody skin pressed to his. Hands wandering all over your body. Perfect.
He started slow, trying so fucking hard to not cum as soon as he rolled his hips into yours. Just the fact that he couldn't fit all of himself into you turned him on more than he would like to admit. How tight you felt, how warm you were. His hands gripped your ass as he pushed in and out of you,
"Fuck me, Lorian. Break me-" you said, pushing back into him. "I'm a slut for you."
His thrusts got faster, rougher, harder. His hands traveling everywhere, from your waist to your hair, but ended up staying on your neck, bringing you back to him.
"You-feel so fucking good," he pants, breath heavy and sweat forming as he fucked you. Bliss. A bliss he didnt know if he had ever felt. You were so hot, and his needs were so pent up. "So fucking tight, so good for me."
"Let me ride you-" you pulled yourself away from him, turning around to have Mando. He was truly a sight. Sweat rolling off of his tan body, thighs strong and thick perfect to ride...another time, hopefully.
He laid back, watching as you straddled his thighs. Taking a moment to grind your bare pussy against his painful hard on.
Clutching onto your waist, he guided you down onto him yet again. Letting out a soft moan as you did so. Hands pressed to his chest, your breasts pushed together by your arms, you set the pace, fast and rough. Grinding down on him in between quick and sloppy pumps. Finger nails scratching at his skin, leaving behind red marks in the wake.
Mandos hand came down from your waist to your clit, rubbing circles on the still slightly sensitive place. "Fuck, Lorian, yes-"
"Just like that" you moaned, voice breathy and light. Mando couldn't take it, he needed release sooner than what you were giving him, even if the sight of you fuxking him was enough for a million wet dreams and nights alone. His hands dug into your skin, forcing you down onto him as he thrust into you at an unforgiving pace. His eyes kept on you, though. One of your hands over your mouth, the other rubbing yourself.
You needed that second orgasm more than you needed air. You felt him throbbing inside of you, close to a release himself. Everything was so sensitive, so raw. He had ducked you so senseless.
"Let me see your face-" He moaned out, slowing down just so slightly as he spoke. "You're too fucking beautiful to hide."
You moved your hand away from your mouth, grabbing onto his forearm. His pace just back up again, so fucking hot and furious as he stretched you completely. At this point, you were grasping at thin strings,
"L-lorian," you panted. The way your breasts bounced as he fucked you, the O on your lips, eyes closed tight. Mando let out a choked moan, spilling his cum deep inside you. Thrusts few and far between, but deeper than ever. Just seconds after he came, you followed, clenching down onto his cock, eyes rolling back with your final release. Whole body jerking as you let your head fall to your chest. Mando committed your image to memory...writhing above him, milking every drop from him as you came.
The pair stayed there for a few moments, taking in each others glory. Then, unexpectedly to him, you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his helmet. Running a hand down his shoulder to his chest.
"I hope you come back, Lorian." You whispered, voice raspy and low. And you did. Something about him. It was better than anyone else. Charm, maybe. You couldn't place your finger on it. But you knew he was desperate for you. "With or without the child. Stick around for a bit."
"I..." Mando muttered, placing a hand gently on your jaw, testing the waters. Moving to tuck some loose hair behind your ear. The mandalorian couldn't imagine not seeing you like this again...not drinking up your sweet scent, touching your soft skin. Now hes tasted, he doesn't think he could ever go back. "I will. I promise."
_______________
TAGLIST: @mando-vibes @swagaliciouspupper @discogrrl @tmnt-would2
#mandalorian smut#mandalorian x reader smut#mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader smut#star wars imagine#star wars#star wars x reader#star wars smut#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal x reader smut
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Return to Me - Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Nineteen: Different Stars
A/N: No notes for this chapter. I love his face in this gif so I couldn’t resist. Thanks for all the love. You guys are all great! Let me know if you want to be tagged and what you think! I hope you enjoy! Also bonus points to anyone who can name what song the title comes from!
Oh! Oh! The next chapter will have a time jump!
Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader
Word Count: 4,007
Synopsis: After the news of the spy hits, Poe makes a trip to Naboo to tell you the news. Just one day after your meeting, though, you find out that you’re not as close with the Resistance as you thought.
Tag List: @xeniarocks, @too-many-baes, @araceli91103, @idocarealot, @treblebeth, @treestarrrrrrrr, @thescarletknight2014, @charlottie2998, @ibikus, @mellow-f1, @mrsdaamneron, @trustme3-13, @missjess71, @ella-solei, @minelskede, @gleigh42, @usuallyweepingnacho, @givemethatgold, @and-claudia, @constantdisgrace, @wordsinwinters, @readingvogueonprivetdrive, @trshbb, @kaitlynw011, @ihave2muchtimeonmyhands, @fairytalesforever, @thanos-jeep, @mixedfandxms, @pastelbunny1501, @emotionalcal, @daniellajocelyn, @getyourselfaunicorn, @spider-starry, @jimhalpertcanbuymelove, @angelicaxhouston, @roserrys
Previous Chapter - Next Chapter
“A spy?” Leia asked in shock. “I don’t believe that.”
“The Master Codebreaker said there was no way the First Order was tracking our ships. How else could they have known we were coming? We hadn’t even reached the planet’s surface before they attacked,” Poe said.
“But who?” Leia asked hopelessly. “We’ve been extremely careful with who we give our information to.” Poe looked at the faces around him: Black Squadron, Commander D’Acy, Connix, and his father. No one seemed to be pointing fingers, but he could tell that they were all going through a list in their mind about who might be responsible.
“We have been bringing in a lot of new people,” Connix said, “Perhaps one of them.”
“Yes, but not very many people knew about this mission,” Leia said.
“Alright, well let’s go over who did,” Kes said. “Everyone in this room is in the clear, but who else knew?”
“Y/N knew,” Suralinda said after a lengthy pause. Poe’s eyes immediately shot up to hers.
“If you’re suggesting—”
“I’m not saying she’s the spy, I’m just saying she knew and might have told others, too. She runs in much bigger circles than all of us do.”
“She’s right,” Commander D’Acy said apprehensively.
“Alright, so we’ll contact Y/N,” Poe said quickly. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”
“No one was suggesting she did,” Leia said gently. Again, Poe’s eyes shot up to Sura’s, and this time she held his gaze for the entirety. “But Poe is right. Y/N is no fool, she wouldn’t share this information with anyone she couldn’t trust, or that we couldn’t trust.”
“Except maybe Lin Ral,” Snap muttered quietly.
“Count Lin Ral has been nothing but helpful to the Resistance,” D’Acy said. “He’s not the spy.”
“You’ve got to admit there’s something off about him,” Jess said, “There’s something he’s hiding behind that kind exterior.”
“You know, Jess,” Kes said with a smile, “Some people are just nice to be nice.”
“I don’t believe that for a second,” she said, smirking stubbornly.
“What about the senator from Manaan? She must have overheard some of the plans you discussed at dinner last night,” Rey said, “We don’t know much about her either.”
“That’s true,” Leia said quietly.
“And we have brought a lot of new recruits on board. We aren’t always aware who’s in the room when we talk,” Kes said, “I know there’s always an influx of new faces in this house every day.”
“So what we’re saying is we have no idea who the spy is,” Leia said with a frown. Everyone shook their heads. “Well, it’s getting late. I hate to do this, but everyone needs to remain on their toes. Until we know who the spy is, we’ve got to keep things on a need to know basis, understand?”
“Yes, General,” everyone said.
“We’ll contact Naboo in the morning, see if Y/N has any information. As for now, Rose, can you and Karé get started on replicating these jammers? We’ve got to be prepared for anything the First Order throws at us.”
“Yes, General,” they said again, picking up the jammer and heading out to the cruiser where there would be droids to work on the replication.
“Poe,” Leia said as everyone began to disperse to their own corners of the house. “A word?” Poe nodded his head and followed Leia out onto the dark porch that was bathed in the fading light of day, casting eerie gray shadows across their faces.
“How much did that jammer cost?” she asked.
“Four thousand credits.”
“We don’t have four thousand credits.”
“I know, the Master Codebreaker is giving me three days to get him the money.”
“And how exactly are you going to do that?” she asked.
“I was going to ask Y/N,” he said sheepishly.
“You better hope she’s got it,” she said, shaking her head, “Or we’re—”
“Fucked, I know,” Poe finished.
“Not what I was going to say, but yes, we’ll be fucked.” Poe laughed. “You’ll ask her in the morning?”
“No, I don’t think I can wait around for this,” he said. “Especially with the spy thing going on. I need to talk to her now.”
“You’re not thinking of leaving now? It’s getting late.”
“I know. But I need to talk to her about this now. If there really is a spy, she needs to watch her back, too.”
“Alright,” Leia said, realizing it was pointless to argue, “But be careful. And ease her into the four thousand credits thing. I don’t think she’ll be too happy with that.” Poe smiled and nodded his head.
“I will.”
“Call me if you find out anything,” Leia said seriously.
“Yes, General.” She waved a hand at him as she stepped back into the house. Poe didn’t wait to tell anyone else he was leaving as he walked across the yard to where his X-Wing was parked. As he started to climb in, he heard angry beeps coming from behind him.
BB-8 was rolling as fast as he could towards the X-Wing, expressing his anger towards Poe in language he wouldn’t repeat in front of many.
“No, of course I’m not leaving without you, buddy. Come on.” Poe waited for BB-8 to get hooked up into the ship before he took off. As he left Yavin-4’s atmosphere, he quickly sent a message to you and Nové that he would be there shortly. He then jumped into Hyperspace.
When he landed on Naboo a little while later, night had already fallen over Theed Palace. The lights lining the way to the palace were dimmed, and for a moment, all he could hear was the gentle flow of water from the river. He climbed down from his X-Wing and waited for BB-8 to detach before making their way toward the palace.
He wasn’t more than two feet from the entry doors, and the guards lined up in front of them, before the doors swung open and you rushed out in a green robe.
“Is everything alright?” you asked nervously, looking into his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, everything is fine,” he said, an easy smile forming across his face at seeing you.
“Then why are you here? Why didn’t you tell us anything about the mission? I’ve been waiting for your transmission all day—” Poe held up his hand to silence you and gently took your hand with his other.
“Can we talk about this inside?”
“Yes,” you said hesitantly, instantly taking note of the tone of his voice. He knew you could suspect something was wrong, and he didn’t want to keep that information from you for long, but also knew that what he was going to tell you needed to remain private. “Should I gather everyone for what you’re about to tell me?” you asked as you led him into the massive halls of Theed Palace.
“No, no, not just yet. I just want to tell you.”
“You’re scaring me,” you said, looking back at him. Poe gave your hand in his a squeeze and pulled you in closer to him. You looked into his eyes and a soft smile spread over your lips. “What is it?” you asked quietly.
“Can we go to your bedroom?” he asked. You rolled your eyes in disbelief. “I don’t mean like that,” he said, holding tight to your hand as you started to walk away from him. “I just want to make sure we have full privacy.”
“Alright,” you said, looking him up and down. “Come on. I assume BB-8 is allowed to stay?” you asked.
“Yeah, BB-8’s alright.” The little droid beeped his happiness at being included and followed the two of you up to your bedroom.
“Commander Dameron,” Loré said in shock. She was waiting at your door as she often did until a guard came to relieve her. She looked between the two of you in confusion.
“Don’t worry,” you said as you opened the right-side door to your room, “I’m just as confused as to why he’s here, too.” You shut the door behind you and looked back at Poe. “Okay, so now can you tell me what’s going on?��
“Yeah,” he said, leading you over to your bed and sitting you down at the end of it.
“Okay, you’re still scaring me,” you said quietly. “Is everyone alright?”
“Everyone’s fine,” he said, crouching down on his knees in front of you, “But the mission went horribly. No one was hurt, but we couldn’t even get through the planet’s atmosphere before being met by a First Order fleet. We aren’t sure how, but they knew we were coming.”
“That’s impossible,” you said, shaking your head.
“I know,” Poe said quietly, loosening his grip on your hands.
“They must have been tracking us again—”
“We found the Master Codebreaker. He swears our ships weren’t tracked.”
“Well, then how did they know you’d be there?”
“We think we have a spy.” You shook your head and stood up, walking away from Poe. He got back up to his feet, watching you as you began to pace, which is what you always did when you were lost in thought.
“No, not this far down the line. We can’t have a spy.”
“I know it’s hard to believe, but there’s no way else that the First Order could have known we were coming.”
“But who?” you asked quietly.
“I don’t know,” Poe said after a pause. You started to shake your head, walking towards him.
“This is insane. Now we’re supposed to turn on each other to find out who it is?”
“I don’t know,” he said again. You sighed. You were standing right in front of him, looking at him with worried eyes, and all he wanted to do was wrap you in his arms and tell you everything would be fine, but he had the same worried look in his eyes. You folded your arms across your chest, and he could tell you were thinking about your last conversation, too.
“You think it’s Lin, don’t you?” you asked.
“He’s one of my suspects.” You frowned and nodded your head.
“Who else?”
“Maybe Rebianakl. There’s been a lot of people coming in and out of Dad’s house, though, so it could be any one of them, too. Who did you tell about our plan?”
“The usual people,” you said with a shrug, “Broden, my handmaidens, my parents, Rebianakl,” you said quietly, “A few new diplomats joining the Republic, and Lin.” Poe sighed. “If I thought that any of them couldn’t be trusted—”
“I know,” he said. “But now we have to be especially careful.”
“Are you asking me who I think might be a spy?”
“I’m asking you to keep an eye out,” Poe said truthfully.
“I trust my handmaidens and my parents with my life. They wouldn’t have said anything. My council was there, too, and they wouldn’t do anything to put Naboo at risk, I know that in my soul. So, the only suspects left are Rebianakl, Lin, and the other people my parents brought into the meeting.”
“Do any of them seem untrustworthy?”
“Again, no. I wouldn’t have told them if I thought they were potentially spies. My parents wouldn’t have, either.” Poe nodded his agreement. The two of you stood in silence for a while, thinking over what to do next. “It’s not you, is it?” you asked. Poe looked at you, a smile growing on his face.
“No, Y/N/N, it’s not me.”
“Well, good.”
“And it’s not you?” he asked.
“No,” you laughed. He smiled back at you and suddenly, some of the stress you were both feeling washed away. “I’m glad you’re here. Even if it is under these circumstances.”
“Me too. There’s a lot more we need to talk about, too.”
“Okay,” you said, somewhat hesitantly. “Is it about more spies?”
“No, but it is about four thousand credits,” he said with a charming smile. Your eyes widened.
“I’m going to get us some tea,” you said, walking towards the doors to ask Loré.
“Got anything stronger?” he called after you.
“Not if we’re going to talk about money!”
After sending Loré for tea, you reentered your room to find Poe sitting out on one of the couches on your balcony. You walked outside, feeling the night breeze run through your hair as you sat down next to him. He was looking up at the stars, his head tilted up to show off his chiseled jaw.
“What?” he asked when he noticed you staring.
“Nothing.”
“I’m sorry for coming so late.”
“It’s fine. I’m just sorry I was already in my pajamas when you did,” you said with a laugh.
“I’m not,” he said, looking at you with his thick, dark lashes hiding his eyes.
“So, what’s this about four thousand credits?” you asked. He laughed and began to explain what happened with the Master Codebreaker, including the debt he owed him, as Loré entered the room with a yellow teapot in her hands. “Thank you,” you said, waiting for her to exit before responding. “So you want me to pay for the jammers that are going to ensure that the First Order can’t track us any longer?”
“Yes.”
“Why would I say no to that? I’ll bring it up to Broden, but I’m sure he can bring it up in the program I proposed a few weeks ago. And if not, I’m sure the members of our new Republic will donate whatever they can. We’ll get you the money.”
“In three days?” he asked.
“I’ll make sure of it.”
“That’s great, thank you,” he said, taking a drink of tea. “Now, do you have anything stronger?”
“Is there something worse you need to tell me?” you asked.
“No, just some apologies I need to make.”
“Alright,” you said, looking at him curiously, “But I’m not sure what you have to apologize for.”
“Suralinda,” he said simply.
“It’s over,” you said, waving your hand. “She didn’t do anything that couldn’t be fixed right away.”
“Yeah, but she still embarrassed you. And so did I.”
“When did you embarrass me?”
“When I argued with Lin Ral at the dinner party.” You took in a breath and watched him closely. “I hate that he’s here, trying to marry you, and I let it get the better of me. And I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize for hating him,” you said quietly. “But thank you for the rest.”
“And as for Suralinda, Leia and I both talked to her. She won’t do anything like that again,” he said. You nodded your head and took a drink of your tea. “And about what she said, it’s not remotely true.”
“Really?”
“What happened on the Raddus was my fault. Not anyone else’s. Especially not yours.” You reached out your hand and he laced his in yours, planting a kiss to your knuckles.
“I’m glad you’re here,” you said again.
“Me too.” You moved closer to him on the couch, resting your forehead on his shoulder. He rested his chin on your head, and for a few moments, the two of you sat there like that, entwined together. At what point you closed your eyes, you weren’t sure. But when you opened them again, morning had fallen over Naboo. Poe’s arm was slung around you, and you had drooled slightly on his arm. You got up quickly and in doing so woke up Poe, too.
“Hey,” you said as you stretched.
“Hey. Did we fall asleep?”
“I guess so.” Poe looked around him, getting his bearings. A few bug bites covered your legs, and your back ached from the position you were in, but for the most part, your night with Poe had left you unscathed. “Do you want me to get us some breakfast?” you asked, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“No, I should probably get going. I’m sure Leia wants to have a meeting about the spy.”
“I’m sure,” you agreed. He snaked an arm around your waist easily and smiled at you.
“And I’m sure she’ll be calling you, too.” You smiled back at him, leaning in close to kiss him softly. His lips were warm and inviting, and you could have stayed like that, kissing him gently, wrapped up in his arms forever, if not for the fact that Sondé entered a moment later, followed quickly by Nové.
“Oh, my lady, I didn’t expect you to be up already,” she said, bowing her head.
“No worries,” you said, standing. “Commander Dameron just stopped in to say goodbye.” You looked over at Poe, urging him to agree with you. He nodded his head and stood up, giving your handmaidens a smile.
“Yes, I am heading back to base. I’ll be in touch,” he said, touching your arm briefly. You nodded at him and watched as he walked back through your door before looking back at your ladies.
“Don’t say anything,” you said, starting to smile as they snickered.
“Don’t tell me you slept out here all night,” Nové said, pulling you into your bedroom and shutting the terrace doors.
“It was not my intention,” you said with a yawn, “We just lost track of time.”
“Well, I hope you got enough sleep out there,” Nové said, “Because we’ve got a busy day planned.”
“Alright, but there will be a transmission coming from Leia today. I need to make sure I answer it instantly when she calls.” Nové nodded her understanding as they sat you down in front of the mirror and began brushing out the tangles in your hair to put it in a long plait down your back. Sondé brought out the dress you would be wearing today, something you could wear to the meetings you were having with your council and your parents, and when you went down to the village to assist in the rebuilding as well.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
“Still nothing from Leia?” you asked, walking back into the palace after clearing out the village for the past two and a half hours.
“Sorry, my lady,” Loré said. You frowned at her and handed her the gloves you had been wearing in the village. “Nové wanted me to tell you that Lord Broden has returned from Ryloth and is ready to have the council meeting whenever you’re ready.”
“Alright, thank you.” You moved past her, and towards the usual meeting room, trying to keep your thoughts off of why Leia hadn’t reached out yet.
You found Broden waiting outside of the meeting room as you approached, speaking into his Holopad. He smiled when he saw you and put the Holopad away.
“Welcome home,” you said with a smile.
“Thank you, Your Highness,” he said, wrapping you in a strong hug.
“How was Ryloth?”
“Wonderful. They’ve been resistant to the First Order for quite some time now, so they agreed to aide in whatever ways they could.”
“That is wonderful.”
“How are things here?” he asked.
“Good. The restoration of the city is well underway. The cleanup should be done in a few days or so, and then the rebuilding can get started.”
“That’s excellent, so why do you look worried?” he asked.
“Poe came last night with some bad news. I was expecting a call from Leia about it today, and I haven’t heard anything yet.”
“Oh yes, about the spy,” Broden said thoughtfully. “She debriefed me on it this morning.”
“This morning?”
“Yes, she called me this morning. I assumed she had already contacted you.”
“What else did she say?” you asked. Broden sighed and glanced over to the doors to your meeting room. “You’re not supposed to tell, are you?”
“No, I’m afraid not, my lady.”
“What, did she specifically tell you not to tell me?”
“No, no, of course not. She just said it must be kept secret from everyone right now, until they can sort out this whole spy mess.” You shook your head, and looked away from him, feeling a few angry tears prick in your eyes. “Look, I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. After the meeting, why don’t you reach out to her, and see what the issue is.”
“I will,” you said, turning quickly towards the door to your meeting room. You greeted everyone with a forced smile, but while they all talked, you couldn’t keep with the conversation. Your mind kept wandering off to why Leia hadn’t invited you to the meeting about the spy.
The second your meeting was through, you stormed back to your room and called up Leia. Once again, Poe was the one to answer this time.
“Hey,” he said, smiling at you.
“Hey, Where’s Leia?”
“I’m not sure,” Poe said, looking around at his surrounding you couldn’t see, “I think she’s in a meeting. Is everything alright?”
“I suppose. Why wasn’t I invited to the meeting this morning?” you asked, watching Poe’s face closely. His smile fell as he sighed.
“Y/N,” he began.
“What?”
“Leia didn’t invite you because she thinks it’s best that, for now, we keep you from our missions.”
“Excuse me?”
“We have almost definitely decided that the spy had to come from someone on your end. No one else on base knew about the mission of Rattatak.”
“To your knowledge, at least,” you muttered.
“Listen, it’s not my decision,” he said sadly, “But right now, you might be a little out of touch with who you trust, and we can’t risk anymore.” You raised your eyebrow deadly.
“So, not only do you not trust the people I associate with, you think I will continue to inform this possible spy of all of the Resistance’s plans.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, just Leia thinks—”
“That I can’t be trusted,” you said, “It’s as simple as that, Poe. Just say it.”
“She’s worried you’ve let your guard down with some of these people,” he said coldly. “Until we know who the spy is, it’s best for us to keep some things separate from one another.”
“The Republic from the Resistance, right?” you asked with a sad smile.
“We still want you with the Resistance, we just have to protect ourselves.”
“Sure,” you said sadly.
“Please don’t be upset by this.”
“How am I not supposed to be upset that my oldest friend and my ex-husband don’t trust me?” Calling him ex-husband stung, you could see it in his eyes.
“I do trust you.”
“Just not with everything,” you said sadly.
“Y/N—”
“I’ve got to go,” you said, quickly standing up, “I have a meeting with my parents, and I’m sure you’ve got some spy hunting to get back to.” He tried to speak again but you cut off your connection before he could. You sat in your room for a few moments more, staring out at the veranda you had spent the night on, feeling as though that night was a million years ago.
You figured it would happen soon enough. The Republic and the Resistance were always going to go their separate ways. The Republic needed to abide by the laws of the galaxy, while the Resistance was doing absolutely anything they could to get rid of the First Order, rules aside. You knew that eventually, you were going to have to decide between the two, at least while the First Order was still in existence, but you never thought it would come so soon. Or come from Poe at all.
You stood up to walk towards the door, but halfway there, stopped. The tears you were trying so hard to fight off weighed you down, and before you could so much as touch the handle, they began to fall freely from your face as you wept.
#poe dameron#poe dameron x reader#poe dameron imagine#poe dameron x you#sw imagine#poe dameron fanfic#poe dameron fanfiction#star wars#star wars imagine#star wars fanfic#star wars fanfiction#sw#sw fanfic#sw fanfiction#return to me
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Hey !! Can i have some soft hcs for the main 6 taking care of mc after they had a breakdown please, i have not had a good night ☹️
Man this one was tough because I feel as though most of them would have similar reactions but I did my best to balance it out and switch things up
Asra:
-They would be talking to you in a voice as sweet and welcoming as a fucking angel (Not saying they don’t always sound like one), whispering to you about how everything is over now, you’re safe, he’s there to protect you, etc
-Rather than rushing into asking what happened, they would wait until they were positive you were alright now and slowly ease you into opening up, encouraging you softly to talk to them
-After clearing the reason you had a breakdown, they would carry you downstairs to make you both tea, draping you in a massive blanket on one of the many pillow piles that littered the shop/home
-If you were hungry, they’d make you your favorite meal, no matter how much effort it took or how late it was. He wants you to feel as good and comfortable as possible afterwards, especially if this was a very frequent occurrence that you have breakdowns
-He’d sit with you and pull you into his chest once you were done with your tea and meal, (They’d be encouraging you to eat or drink if you were refusing to, and if you still refused they would attempt to feed you themselves. That fails? Y’all go straight to cuddling) falling back onto the bed of pillows with you in their arms.
-Would proceed to ask you if there’s anything else you want to talk about, if you say yes he’ll listen to every word carefully, rubbing circles in your arms with their thumb
-11/10 would use a relaxing spell on you of sort to calm your nerves and help you fall asleep just in case you’d be too stressed from the after math
-”I’m here for you MC. I’ll always be there to protect you. I’ll always be there for you when you need me.”
Nadia:
-Shocked!!
-Probably just walked into your shared bedroom and saw you huddled on the bed, breathing heavily so she KNEW something happened
-At your side immediately, slowly resting the weight of her hand on your shoulder, ensuring you’re entirely comfortable with this gesture beforehand in case you’d be touch sensitive (In the bad way!)
-When she sees you’re alright with this, she’ll sit beside you and start caressing your arm, maneuvering between rubbing your back
-She’ll ask you if there’s anything you need, and whatever it is you respond with that she can’t personally give you right then and there, she calls for a servant to immediately bring you whatever it is you request
-She cares about you so much, she’s so worried at this point about what caused your breakdown
-If you’re still crying or have tears on your face she’ll pull you into her lap and kiss them away before asking if you wish to talk about what upset you
-She listens to your every word as though her life depends on it, feeling guilty for not being there earlier, although it couldn’t have been helped
-”My darling, it’s all over now, you’re safe, you’re alright. I’m here now. I’ll keep you safe from all that harms you.”
Bonus: If it had anything to do with Lucio she would go and personally beat his ass, and by that I mean she’d give him the hardest bitch slap across the face. Big power move from best wifey.
Julian:
-Oh no he panics himself when he sees you
-But he collects himself as quickly as possible and tries not to assume the worst (He’ll consider the possibilities it was his doing but he doesn’t dwell on the chances)
-Rushes to your side, tearing his gloves off and tossing them to the side (because skin to skin contact ykno?), carefully grabbing your face and cupping your cheeks, having the most concerned look on his face
-He would realize he may be coming on a bit too strong and could possibly cause you to panic, so he would loosen his grip a tad, sighing heavily to calm his own nerves before asking you what happened
-After discovering you had a break down (He suspected it from your watery eyes) he would sit beside you and pull you close, instantly growing very protective of you, treating you as though you were a piece of fragile glass in his arms
-Would pet your head and gently play with your hair, being so careful to not accidently pull your hair or tug at a knot to not (heheh, knot and not) disturb the peace as he tries to comfort you
-He’d tell you stories and try to crack jokes if you were okay with it, hell he’d even sing if you wanted him to, he just wants to make sure you’re alright after the fact and will do whatever he can in his power to make sure you’re as good as always later on
-He’ll ask you if you need anything constantly and if you’re alright over the time you spend in his grasp, to the point it gets annoying, but it’s okay because he’s cute
-If you ask, he’ll go run a bath for you two, feeling kinda dumb for not thinking about it before
-You’re obviously on his lap (no wink wink this time folks) and he’ll wash your hair for you while he has the advantage
Portia:
-Sweet baby girl rushes to your aid immediately!!
-Throws her arms around you and instantly holds you close to her, no matter how much taller you may be than her, do not underestimate this girl when she’s worried about her love
-Profusely kissing your face, asking what happened in between smooches
-Without a doubt will tear up upon being informed you had a breakdown, feeling as though she should’ve been home from work earlier, but she eventually shrugs the thought off since she’s here now!
-She’ll lay down so you can use her titties as a pillow and will play with your hair so so much, telling you how amazing and lovely and deserving you are to try and lift your mood
-Nap time on the titties
-When you both wake up she cooks you both dinner n you two eat out in the garden and cuddle afterwards, she’ll ask you how you’re feeling and if there’s anything else you need while she’s at it
-”That’s it, I’m taking the day off tomorrow to tend to you, and there’s nothing you can do that’ll stop me!”
Muriel:
-Oh dear, oh boy, he’s so shocked at first to see you laying by the fire and sniffling
-He knows something bad must’ve happened because Inanna is curled up with you and looks quite concerned herself
-Calmly (quickly) walks over to you and scoops you up, plopping down by the fire and holding you in his arms (even if you’re the same height as him, he’ll manage), rocking back and forth at an easy pace carefully
-Asks you what’s wrong while brushing your hair away from your face to look you in the eyes, feeling his heart break a little at the sight of your distressed expression
-Instantly kisses your forehead and whispers about how much he loves you and will keep you safe when he finds out you had a break down
-God he might even cry, he’s so worried about you
-He asks what caused your break down, but reminds you that you don’t have to tell him if you don’t feel like it (Although he’ll still be pretty worried if you didn’t, he’ll still try to comfort you regardless)
-Offers to go sit with the chickens and star gaze to calm you down, Inanna without doubt joining you both
-”….Are you feeling better?”
Lucio:
-Oh my god
-Oh my GOD
-When he sees you curled up on his bed he immediately freaks out, sprinting to the bed and scooping you up (careful not to scratch you with his prosthetic claws)
-Seeing the love of his life so distraught is enough to make him tear up alone, profusely asking you what’s wrong and if anyone did something to you
-After he relaxes himself (as best as he can, he’s still a mess) he proceeds to, calmly, ask you what happened
-Feels his heart stop for a second when you tell him
-Asks you what caused it because he’s ready to crack a whole ass sword out on anyone who hurt his precious MC (if someone is in fact involved)
-Calls for Mercedes and Melchior to come over and cuddle with you both on your shared bed, slipping off the sharp plates from his prosthetic so that he can rub your back
-Will get you WHATEVER you ask for, if he can’t deliver personally he gets a servant to comply with your requests
-Kisses the top of your head, and if you look up at him he’ll give you a very sweet, loving, chaste kiss on the lips this time
-Btw you get to lay on his gorgeous man titties
-If you need a distraction he’ll tell you battle stories, even tell one or two embarrassing ones of his youth regardless of insecurities
-Man he just wants you to be okay and will do anything to ensure you’re totally alright
-Before you pass out on top of him he’ll whisper “I love you MC”
Ngl this is PRETTY shit but alright 😎
#the arcana#The Arcana Game#thearcana#the arcana asra#asra the magician#asra alzanar#the arcana nadia#Countess Nadia#nadia satrinava#the arcana julian#julian devorak#doctor devorak#the arcana portia#portia devorak#the arcana muriel#mountain man muriel#the arcana lucio#count lucio#goatman lucio#the arcana headcanons
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Fright
⤷ Genre: Fluff
⤷Jeon Jungkook x Reader (Oneshot)
⤷Summary: He always works hard in order to conceal his flaws but at the end of the day, the golden boy who seems capable in doing anything is still just a human
I rush down the hallways filled with crowds,each minding their own busy businesses and i too, have a certain destionation in my mind. I panicked,i grab onto someone's shoulder rather impolitely but i do not care anymore,
"Excuse me! Hi,i'm sorry but could you tell me where i can find the boys?"
She looked at me confused and surprised as well by my sudden approach, "The boys? Who do you mean?"
"Bangtan!" I reply almost too loud.
"Ah," she clicked, "Down the corner and to your right—"
I took a step forward after muttering a quick gratitude even before she could finish her own sentence. I pick up my pace and pushes the white door open with the remaining strength i have left considering i almost ran all the way here since earlier.
What greets my view is the boys surrounding a certain couch and they all looked up in a sync hearing the loud door,
"{Y/N}!" Hobi smiles first thing despite the heavy air inside. The smell of oil scent mix with sweats fills my nose.
"Hey,guys." I nod,approaching them and automatically they widen their circle allowing me to fit in and my heart dropped.
The last thing i will ever see in my life- Jeon Jungkook lied on his back,sweats profusely on his forehead and neck,and even from standing i can hear he is having a hard time breathing.
"What happened?" I ask,trying not to sound i'm going to cry any second.
"He overworks himself,i'm sorry {Y/N}." I heard Namjoon apologizes on the other side of Jungkook's couch.
"He never shows how tired he is," Jin utters, "I almost forgot that Jungkook..is actually a human too."
I look up to each their faces who look dead worried,guilt but tired as well. They are partly correct; Jungkook who is the youngest among them all never shows his flaw and always look the strongest one. Never have i seen him laying on the couch like this seems so sick and exhausted.
"{Y/N}..." i look to my left to see Taehyung tugging on the hem of my shirt,his gaze casts downwards and making him look almost pouting and trying to seek for assurance.
I heave out a silent sigh through my nostrils,lifted up a hand just to cup one of his cheek, "Get some rest,you all need 'em okay? I have called the staffs to pick up some hot meals and is on the way now as we speak. I will watch over Jungkook and it’s none of your fault, Take a break now, okay?”
He nodded, along with the others in the corner of my eyes before i shot them an assuring smile. They left their spot,limping their way out of the room after wanting a short hug from me on the way out,probably to their assigned resting room.
I look back to the boyfriend i am with since years ago after they secured the door. I lean down and swept his fringe from his drenched forehead,his eyebrows furrowed in pain meaning he is not sleeping peacefully.
I toss my purse on to a table and got to work-grabbing a bucket and a towel,filling them with hot water and pills i asked around the staffs who have them,i even asked for a change of clothes and began to massage his legs especially the muscles. So it has been countless of times i exited and entered the room with Jungkook still sleeping soundlessly.
The last when i take much longer time to bring a meal from the staff and after taking care of the tired boys,i enter the quiet room to find Jungkook had just set himself up from lying position to sitting down and look very much perplex with his surroundings.
"Jungkook!" i breathe out in relief,and his tired eyes fell on me.
"{Y/N}...?” he cooed weakly, "How-what're you doing here?"
"I'm here because the boys called me,silly." I place the hot meals on the nightstand beside his couch.
"He said you fainted during concert rehearsal," i look down to him who is seated, "Are you feeling okay now?" I place hands on either both sides of his cheeks,
"Just light headed,thank you." He sounded weak, and shot me a ghost smile which breaks my heart even more.His skin is pale, his eyes looks tired, did he lose weight since the last time i saw him?
I frown,pull my lips to a firm line and embraces him, wrapping my arms around his neck,pulling him in,
"Please..please,don't scare me like that anymore.You gave me a heart attack." My voice muffled by his shoulders. It broke the confidence within me that my boyfriend is a strong young man and believe in his dream that he could do this-this hectic job and life of his. It made me want to keep him all to myself,keep him safe and sound where he would not hurt himself.
Feeling my trembling being,Jungkook then wraps his arms around me,pulling me closer to him in attempt to comfort me.
"I'm fine,i feel better." He answer and i have to pull away slightly just to examine his breathtaking features. Even in this state,how the heck he still look so gorgeous?
"Don't push yourself too hard,how're you feeling?"
"Good now that you're here." He rag and i had to hide the cheeky smile almost forming around my lips.
"The managers said you can rest for another 30 minutes until the next rehearsal starts,can you handle that?"
"Of course,i'm not mighty maknae for nothing."
I heave out a sigh,looking at him filled with his usual energy back but i couldn't help but being worried for him. What if he faint in the middle of the concert? What if he hit his head? What if his kidney—
"Baby,look at me." Jungkook's voice snaps me from my deep thought and to see his pair of onyx eyes beaming,flashes me a smile a soon as he realizes i am back to reality,
"I will be okay,all i need is just your full support from behind,okay?" He held both my hands,bringing them up to his mouth before placing kisses on each digits.
"Please,trust me this time."
I give him another look before letting out an exasperated deep sigh,
"If you faint again i’ll knock you out myself,Jeon Jungkook.”
Jungkook snorted a laugh and pulls me closer,this time placing a quick peck of kiss on my lips,
"Yeah,gotcha."
What can i say? He is always good in convincing me.
-Bonus Ending-
"Damn,it’s been far too long.." Jungkook hums into my lips as i already found myself being pushed up against a wall with either of his strong biceps around my hips.
"You know the boys are eavesdropping behind the closed door right?"
And i suppress a giggle, "They're too loud."
"Especially Hoseok hyung." Jungkook pointed out and i nod in agreement.
"Does that mean we have to be rough but silent?" He questions bluntly.
And i had to smack him to make sure those pervert thoughts of his flew out of the window right then.
#bts angst#bts fanfiction#bts imagines#bts fluff#kpop angst#bts jungkook#bts oneshot#jungkook#jeonjungkook#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fluff
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Whumptober 20: Trembling
Guess who's back in this story.
This fills @stephenstrangebingo for "Curse" (and my first bingo on that card, finally).
If you want to get a feel for Narrator before diving into this, you can read his unpleasantness in #2: Explosion and #7: Isolation. It's not required to read those to understand this story, though.
Warnings: Nothing I can think of in particular, other than that the narrator delights in the suffering of others.
20. Trembling
Oh, you won't believe what happened— I mean it! You won't believe the gift I had dropped right in my lap just now. Sit still and listen for a second. I mean, time hardly matters here anyway, does it? So just— just listen. I need to share this with someone.
Now as you know, I get a lot of calls for favours and deals. It's what I do, what I look for, and it certainly keeps the place populated, which is the entire point of the business. Without a population, this whole dimension would eventually wither and fade, and where would that leave me? You get it.
Souls are what keep the realm going. While minor demons are useful, it is the souls from mortal planes that have power, though most mortals are completely oblivious to the vast amount of energy within their souls. And me, well, I have found that I have a taste for human souls. There's something about their capacity to be so good, only to fall to the most depraved acts imaginable that makes my metaphorical heart sing in joy.
Take the human I just met. He was rather bitter about being kicked out of his little group and wanted revenge on the leader. This is rather par for the course when it comes to those calling upon my dimension for some sort of task or power, so I let one of the grunts handle it.
The grunt came back and gave me the details and I nearly danced in joy. Gave the grunt a soul to play with; grunts that just know when I'm not needed and when I am needed are hard to come by, and I want him to know I appreciate it; can't have him being poached by some other entity.
So here I go up, putting on the shape the grunt was wearing for the job (which turned out to be more human-like than I usually go with, but that's fine), and to the human that reached out to us it doesn't look like anything's changed at all. For all he knows, he's talking to the same demon.
A quick review of the conversation so far later, I offer the summoner a sympathetic smile. "Tell me more about this Stephen Strange," I said, as if I didn't know anything about him. Play a bit dumb here and there, and humans grow much more comfortable around you, as if you're one of them. It's just adorable.
"He's an egotistical asshole," the summoner spat, "who has no business being the Sorcerer Supreme!"
I admit I had forgotten that they promoted him after that tiff with Nightmare (who's still the same moron he was five hundred Earth years ago, so you're not missing anything with him) and Strange had certainly proved himself capable enough. So for someone reaching out to me to help take down him?
Yeah, you see why I'm just so damn pleased.
Anyway, he went on with this and that, explaining that he didn't deserve to be kicked out of Kamar-Taj, that Strange was an idiot, et cetera, et cetera. You know how summoners can get. I let him rant for a few minutes until he finally stopped for a breath, and then I asked him, "What do you want to do?"
"Make him pay," the summoner replied.
I must say, I kept my calm quite impressively at his useless answer. No good at blowing up at a summoner before we seal a deal, after all. "What would you like in order to accomplish that?" I asked quite patiently.
The summoner paused a moment, and really, I don't quite understand how some of these summoners are ready to sell their souls without a concise idea of what they exactly want prepared. While vague requests such as "power" and "wealth" are incredibly convenient for me, sometimes something more planned out would be a nice change of pace.
He eventually answered, "He has this doctor friend who knew him from before that comes to the New York Sanctum to still see him from time to time. Once even went to Kamar-Taj. I don't know if they're sleeping together or what, but Strange definitely cares for her. I want her cursed. Take her soul to tear him apart."
I admit, I was impressed by his thinking. I was expecting the usual "powers to destroy him" or something of the sort— you know how it tends to go— but this was a creativity I could appreciate. Curses and soul-taking, however? Two different things. "I can take her with me. Call that the curse." Not her soul alone, naturally, but I didn't say that I'd take her soul. But you know how humans are: they hear what they want to hear. "Do you know her name?"
"Palmer. Doctor Christine Palmer," he confirmed.
I could have found it myself if need be, of course, but he certainly sped up the process. "I will take Doctor Christine Palmer from this world, and in return, your soul comes to me upon your death." I then offered my hand
He didn't even hesitate! He gripped my hand and said, "Deal," and that was that. Soul in the bag. And what a treat to secure it!
Oh, yeah, I've already done as he asked. How could I help myself? It was a simple task and I was already on the mortal plane— and I had a bit of fun in the process, too.
I located the woman quickly in her apartment and put on the guise of Doctor Strange before appearing before her. She jumped and frowned at my sudden appearance, but as she has no skills in sorcery, immediately believed me to be him. "Stephen!" she said with a frown. "I told you not to portal into my apartment! You need to knock unless I say otherwise."
"There's not much time," I said, and her frown turned into a look of confusion. "You're in danger. You need to come with me."
She was worried, of course, and asked me, "What? Stephen, what's happening?"
"We need to go," I said. "Come with me." I then offered her my hand to take. You see where this is going.
Of course she took my hand. Interestingly enough, the moment she took it she realized something was not right; I could see it in her expression. And she told me, "Your hand isn't trembling."
Whoops; my bad, right? But the hard part was already done; she gave me her hand. She tried to pull it away, of course, but, well, it was something of a pathetic struggle on her part. "Stephen, let me go."
I decided to let the guise from my face fall and said, "No, I don't think so," as I looked back at her.
It's been a long time since I've heard such a wonderfully terrified mortal scream. It's really made me consider that I should go out and take a few more summonings rather than having the grunts do all of them, or at least find some interesting fulfillments.
The woman? Oh, she's fine. I just have her sleeping. She's not really important in this, after all. She's only a prop for the real prize. And I left Strange enough hints that I expect he will be summoning me in no time at all.
————
Oh, here we go. And a summoning to force me to come in person rather than giving me the ability to send a grunt in my stead; well done, Strange. But I was coming prepared.
A bit of a pull, and I found myself within a very well-warded and power-containing summoning circle. They put up runes to attempt to force my true self, but I've been able to beat those for over a thousand years, now.
So instead of facing the form that I tend to wear in my dimension, Strange and four other sorcerers were faced with the visage of the woman who called herself The Ancient One. And the expression on their faces? Absolutely priceless.
The one I knew as Hamir spoke first. "Reveal your true form."
"I don't think I will," I said, giving the sorcerers a small smile. I ran a hand over my currently bald head; not personally a look I'd go for myself, but I suppose it added to her enigma.
The woman called Minoru tried to cast a spell to remove my form and oh, that was precious. The summoning circle contained my power, but within its bounds? Her spells were nothing.
"What is your name, demon?" asked Hamir.
"It is mine, for now," I said. Let them think they were dealing with a lesser demon for now; I was saving my reveal for later.
Strange, now, Strange was outright trembling in rage. An unexpected bonus; I was expecting something more stoic. "What do you want with Christine?" he asked, and I appreciated his candour. Straight to the point.
"I don't want anything with her," I answered. "Unfortunately for her, someone didn't like her all that much and cursed her soul to my realm."
"No," said the sorcerer named Wong. "Demons can only entrap souls within their realms that deliberately submit to their will. You cannot contain her soul."
"Ah, someone's done their homework," I said, but I admit I was delighted; it is so difficult to come across anything remotely challenging in my existence, and dealing with sorcerers that understood how it worked? What can I say; it was a breath of fresh air. "You are correct; her soul is not mine. But there are no rules against containing her living body within my realm until her soul sees fit to depart. Usually it's not worth the effort, but a curse is a curse." It really wasn't worth the effort; humans had to eat and drink all the time and it was just so much busy work. I'll stick to souls, thank you very much.
The newly minted Sorcerer Supreme was staring at me with narrowed eyes; the trembling had lessened, but it was there— oh, and especially in his hands. I see why the woman saw, or rather felt, the difference. "But this is not a curse in the usual sense of the term. You cannot curse physical bodies to other dimensions. Someone must have made a bargain with you."
Oh, what a true delight! Doctor Strange lived up to his growing reputation. "Quite so."
His eyes remained narrow. "I would bargain for her safe return to Earth." Beside him, Hamir stiffened in dismay.
I gave Strange a toothy grin, which, upon the face of the Ancient One, seemed to disturb the sorcerers gathered; that was amusing. "A small price of a soul would do it in a heartbeat."
Before he could answer, Wong immediately said, "Rejected. A mortal lifetime is not of the same value as a soul for an eternity."
Damn. Well, it was worth a shot. Strange, though, Strange was unable to hide his pain and anger at Wong's comment. Interesting.
"Can't blame me for trying," I said in turn. "Still, I am willing to bargain with you." I set my focus on Strange. "But bargain with you alone and in my own realm. Besides, you want to see your friend, yes?"
He did not answer immediately, and from what I could tell, they were communicating silently with each other. The summoning circle was strong enough that I could not intrude upon their thoughts, sadly, but I knew what the answer was going to be. Even if the other four sorcerers were against him, Strange was more than stubborn enough not to listen to them.
Eventually Strange answered, "I agree to bargain with you within your realm concerning Christine Palmer's safe return."
Carefully worded. Not an idiot. This was going to be fun. "Come with me," I said, offering my hand out.
Strange spared a last glance at the other sorcerers before walking towards me. Sadly he did not take my hand, but again, he knew what he was doing. I have to say I was just a bit giddy for the challenge.
I set my hand on his shoulder and said, "Cut the cord." I could feel Strange exhale under my hand, and with a gesture he extinguished all wards that forced me to the mortal plane. We were pulled through the multiverse together and the blink of an eye later, we were within my dimension.
I let the guise of the Ancient One fall from my visage and I grew in height and my skin reddened as I shifted into my chosen form for my home dimension. Strange was tense under my hand that had yet to leave his shoulder; he looked at his surroundings with a completely stoic expression, but I could feel the despair edging in. And he hadn't even looked at my shifting form yet.
Once I became me again, I finally introduced myself, like a proper host should. "I am Mephisto," I said, and I couldn't help but grin. "Welcome to Hell."
Quick question: Naturally this series isn’t done yet, but I haven’t decided if I want to continue in the Narrator’s (well, Mephisto’s) POV or if I should go back to my usual third person limited with Stephen. Any opinions?
Oh and Mephisto’s characterization is basically all inspired by the Damnation arc. I adore how he was written in that arc.
#whumptober2019#no.20#trembling#stephen strange#doctor strange#doctor strange fanfic#christine palmer#my writing#my fanfiction
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Take A Ride With Me - Billy Russo
Decided that since it’s my anniversary, why not treat you all to some fluff AND some smut?
Warning: Smut! Car sex! Really unsafe driving practices. Like... really unsafe? Drive carefully!
Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!
*gif is mine*
Enjoy!
The last car that had passed had been an hour ago. Billy was driving the speed limit but he had told you that he wanted a relaxing ride. It had been his idea for a road trip and you had accepted immediately but now you were wondering if maybe you should have just opted to fly instead. He had said that you weren't going to stop until you got to your destination, but that was hours away.
You were half asleep in the passenger seat. You'd leaned it back at some point but you weren't able to fully drift off. The air was on in the car so you were comfortable, but there was something else.
With your eyes mostly shut, you peered out at Billy secretly. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the tune of the song that was playing softly on the radio. You could sit up and maybe draw him into a conversation to pass the time. Or...
Or.
His hand was on your knee and had been there for a while. He had this thing about touching you when you were sleeping as if he was trying to anchor you there with him. It was a cute habit that he had but it had never really been something you paid much attention to before today.
You twisted a bit in your seat so that your leg tilted just enough that his hand slid down to your thigh a bit. His fingers flexed out of reflex but didn't move other than that. Careful to make it look natural, you rotated again so that the skirt of your dress raised a bit more as you let your legs fall open.
From your half closed eyes, you watched as Billy's eyes darted to your legs before he looked back at the road. He licked his lips and you tried not to smile in success. Then his hand moved to your skirt to tug it down a bit to cover you.
Trust Billy to be a gentleman when you were trying to seduce him. He just loved to be contrary.
Before he could move his hand, you covered it with yours. It was pressed to your thigh and you slid your fingers over his knuckles a bit before you settled down once more. You had to do this in small movements or he'd catch on and you weren't done playing yet.
The next time you shifted, you used your hand over his to drag it up your thigh a bit more. The movement had the added bonus of pushing your skirt back up.
You were so close to your goal. You could feel yourself getting wet at the game you were playing.
His fingers flexed against your thigh again, a little harder than before. With a little noise as if you were still asleep, you tugged his hand a little closer as you clenched your legs around it.
This time when his fingers moved, they barely brushed against the soft fabric of your underwear. There was a bit of uneven asphalt at just the right time and while he was focused on the road, you shifted your hips so that his hand was pressed directly against your pussy.
Just that little touch made you throb. You curled your fingers which in turn curled his against you. You rubbed his middle finger between your lips, the fabric rubbing against your clit deliciously.
"Y/N," he warned, his voice low and hoarse, "I know you're awake."
"Not at all," you said as you rotated a bit, still with your eyes closed, "very much asleep over here."
"Oh really?" He pushed your underwear aside so that he could slide one finger inside you. "Still asleep?"
He thrust the finger in and out, making you arch your back a bit. You looked over at him and bit your lip.
"Wide awake."
He pushed a second finger in, the heel of his palm pressing against your clit as he fucked you with his fingers. You moved your hips into it, bracing your elbows on the back of the car to give you some leverage.
"You're so wet for me," he mumbled as he teased a third finger at your entrance. "Can you take another one for me?"
You keened as he inserted three fingers at once. One hand reached up to clutch at your breasts through your dress while your other hand wrapped around his wrist. You tried to slow down his fasts thrusts but he didn't change his pace.
"Gonna come," you whined as you rode his hand, so close that your breath was coming out in pants. "Make me come baby."
"Spread your legs wider," he demanded with a growl, his eyes darting from the road to where his fingers were disappearing inside you.
He rotated his wrist a bit so that his thumb could circle around your clit, dragging his nail across it and making you arch forward and slam a hand against the window as you came. He kept moving them inside you as you rode the high of the orgasm.
"Fuck."
He laughed as you slumped back in the seat. When he pulled his hand from between your legs, you were in awe of how wet they were. Obvious that he was trying to figure out what to do with it, you grabbed his wrist and pulled it to your mouth.
Your tongue curled around his fingers, sucking them clean. He groaned as you did that which turned to a hiss when you bit the fleshy part of his palm.
"Want a taste?"
He glanced over at you as you unbuckled and shifted over to his side. You turned his head a bit so that he could still see the road even as you kissed him. Your tongue twirled around his, letting him taste you as you kissed.
You leaned back and kissed his cheek.
"Y/N," he warned again as he wiped his hand on his pants leg a bit, "I'm driving."
"You didn't seem to mind when your fingers were inside me," you teased, making him shut his eyes for a second.
A look down showed that he was hard in his jeans. No wonder he was so tense. You pressed a kiss to his jaw, his cheek, and up to his ear. You sucked on his earlobe for a moment before you bit down and tugged on it.
"Keep your eyes on the road," you whispered before you moved back a bit.
He looked confused at first until you moved to kneel on the seat. Your hand moved over his thigh and towards the button of his jeans.
"Jesus," he swore once he realized you were about to do.
You pushed his shirt up a bit and undid the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down as you placed a kiss on his stomach. It took some adjusting but he put the car in cruise control and lifted his hips so that you could pull his pants down to mid thigh.
"I really hope I don't crash with my dick out," he said as you lowered his briefs as well.
"What a way to go though?"
You wrapped a hand around his cock and gave it a stroke. With a grin, you leaned in and swirled your tongue around the head. He moaned and you could hear the steering wheel groaning as he gripped it harder.
Leaning down more, you ran your tongue up and down his cock as you gripped the base. His hips were twitching upwards and you hollowed you cheeks as you sucked. As you worked your mouth up and down him, you could feel him twitching in your mouth.
You moaned around him and his hand went to the back of your head to guide you up and down. The pressure made you moan again.
"Fuck," he groaned as he pushed you down a bit harder, "this should not be so hot."
As he got closer to his climax, he pushed your head down to take him all the way in. Your throat contracted around him and he swore as he came. Each pulse went down your throat until he moved his hand and you were able to pull back enough to catch the last of it.
You pulled off of him and started to sit back in time to see him swerve over to the side of the road you had been traveling on for a while. He used the lever on the side of the seat to let it slide all the way back before he turned off the car and threw the keys onto the dash.
His hands were on your hips as he tugged you up and over to his side of the car. Thankfully he had rented a car for the trip because there wouldn't be enough room in his car.
His hands skimmed up your hips until he found your panties. With a grunt, he pulled them down enough so that he could slide his cock into you.
"Oh god," you whined as he moved your hips, making you fuck down on him hard and fast, "yes, right there."
He tilted his head so that he could kiss you, still fucking up into you while he guided your movements on him. One of your hands fell to his stomach, feeling his muscles contract as you both moved. Your other hand was on the headrest of his seat as you used it to grind down on him.
You were lost in the feeling, both of you desperately chasing your climaxes. You could feel yours coming up on you so you spread your legs a little more and leaned back so that he was even deeper.
"Look at you," he said as he raised up one of his hands to pull down the strap of your dress and bra, his mouth finding your nipple and biting down on it. "Come on, fuck, come for me."
It didn't take much more than that and the friction on your clit from your own hand before you were screaming. He tugged you into a kiss, his mouth dominating yours as he slammed his hips into yours a few more times. This time when he came, you felt the rush of warmth inside you and you moaned into his mouth.
You slumped against him, your forehead pressed against his shoulder.
Coming back to your senses, you realized that you both had just fucked your brains out in the front seat of the car in the middle of nowhere. In the middle of the day.
"What are you laughing about?"
Billy tilted your face up and smiled when you were unable to do more than laugh. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his grinning lips.
"Just the thought of an indecent exposure charge. You're the one that didn't want to make any stops," you teased as you rocked against him.
"Easy," he complained, sensitive at the moment. "There's some napkins in the console. Let's not make a mess in the rental please."
It took a bit to maneuver yourself so as to not make a mess, but once you were both cleaned and redressed, Billy grabbed the keys and started the car once more.
"That going to hold you over long enough for us to get to the vacation house?"
You pouted but he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a kiss.
With a laugh you settled back in your seat. He pulled back onto the highway and started to drive once more. Not far from where you two had parked, you saw a sign that showed a rest stop and a motel.
"Hey Billy," you said as you checked how many miles to the motel. When he looked at you, you made a show of pulling your dress up and sticking your hand in your underwear. "There's a motel in three miles."
His eyes moved over you hungrily before he swore, stepping on the gas a bit.
"You're going to be the death of me."
That in mind, you pulled your hand out of your underwear and held it out for him to lick. He sucked on your fingers eagerly. You were ready to place nicely at least until he got to the motel, but he guided your hand back to your thighs.
"Keep playing," he said with a wicked grin, "but don't come yet."
You bit your lip and grinned as you spread your legs a bit more.
Good to know that Billy wanted to play as well.
X
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More Famous Than a Yankee Can
He knows it’s not a dream. He’s had this dream before. Finding her again and talking to her again and wearing pinstripes. They usually aren’t all the same dream. So this has to be real. But the last place Killian Jones ever expected to see Emma Swan was while he was wearing those pinstripes. With her standing on the bleachers in Yankee Stadium.
Rating: Like...T’ish.
Word Count: I don’t know, a lot. Probably like 8K. I got sports emotions.
AN: HAPPY OPENING DAY! THE YANKEES ARE GOING TO WIN THE WORLD SERIES. This has been sitting in my docs for several eons, but baseball season starts today and I’ve got baseball tickets on Sunday and, well...here are some words. This is a direct sequel to Start Spreading the News so it may help to read that, but if you’re like Laura, that is too many words, here’s what you need to know: Emma and Killian grew up together, haven’t seen each other in years, Emma’s at a Yankee game when she realizes Killian plays RF and the Bleacher Creatures play Cupid to get them back together.
Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll.
Also, also, if you are in the baseball mood, here’s some shameless self promo because I wrote a baseball book (two, in fact) with more kissing and more sports emotions and you can buy it and read it.
She is impossibly warm.
It’s the first thing he thinks about, as soon as her fingers wrap around the front of his t-shirt and he’s certain he can feel every single inch of her, standing there on the stoop in front of her apartment building and it’s kind of like holding onto his own, personal sun.
The whole thing is a fairly ridiculous notion, mostly because Killian shouldn’t be thinking about suns or any other celestial being when Emma Swan is kissing him, but it’s been that kind of day and he’s going to have to deal with the consequences of that whole seventh-inning stretch thing eventually. He’s fairly certain Regina is going to yell at him.
There’s a joke about getting burned in there. He’s circled right back around to the sun.
And, really, Killian knows that the heat is probably a product of sunshine and walking several dozen blocks, which probably wasn’t a good idea after playing a goddamn baseball game and ignoring a goddamn baseball game, but his legs didn’t seem to care and he certainly didn’t seem to care and he can’t stop kissing Emma.
Or the other way around.
It absolutely did not matter.
The very first time, the only time, they’d done this, he’d been an eighteen-year-old brat and she’d been sixteen and possibly the center of the entire universe. It had always felt that way, something about tides and drawn together and no one knew more about Killian Jones than Emma Swan did. Even Liam. It was easy to talk to her, sitting on back steps with the possibility of possibility in front of them and nothing seemed very likely, but that was equal parts exciting and terrifying for two teenage kids who could only count on their own dreams.
Neither one of them was ever really very good at sleeping.
It was because the house didn’t have consistent air conditioning.
So they sat and they talked and admitted things that were easier to say under a few stars, and they told him he had to leave three days after he turned eighteen. Killian told Emma, approximately, two hours and twenty-two minutes after.
Once he worked up the courage.
And his voice had shook, and his heart hammered against his ribs and he knew he stared at his shoes instead of her, because he wasn't sure he’d be able to cope with watching her expression change as soon as she processed the words. Or he didn’t want her to see his expression change as soon as he processed he might not ever see her again.
So he looked at his feet and stumbled over the words and she’d kissed him first then too.
Figured.
It was probably something about control and the sun never had to ask permission to shine.
God, that sounded weird even in his own head. He assumes it’s because his fingers have found their way under the edge of her shirt and his mind is already drifting towards team-branded merchandise and how consistently he’d be able to hit if Emma was wearing his number.
What a possessive weirdo.
She didn’t freak out about the number thing though, and Killian wouldn’t have blamed her if she had, honestly. He’d kind of freaked out about the number thing because it was weird and sentimental and he hadn’t been hung up on a girl he knew when he was eighteen, but that might have been a lie and...something about Icarus.
Too close to the sun or whatever.
He needs to breathe.
Killian does not breathe. He can’t be bothered. He’s going to keep kissing Emma until she punches him in the face or something equally violent and absurd, because it’s been that kind of day and Regina’s going to hit him with several different bats.
Someone whistles.
One of them laughs when they, finally, pull away, foreheads resting on each other and smiles on their faces and touching her skin is like being burned and branded and some other verb that probably starts with the letter ‘b’ and is exponentially better than both of those ones.
“So the number thing wasn’t a total deal breaker then?” Killian asks softly, and Emma swats at his shoulder. He moves on instinct, years of training and practice and her eyes widen slightly when he catches her around the wrist.
It’s distracting in a way getting hit by a pitch is distracting. Like a ninety-six mile per hour fastball has just slammed into his thigh and left a bruise that won’t disappear for weeks, at least, and he’ll probably walk with a slight limp for a few games.
Killian needs to stop thinking of such violent metaphors. He briefly considers ducking his head to kiss her again, or profess several things that are completely out of the realm of possibility, but Emma is talking again and his whole mind keeps short-circuiting when that happens.
“A little stalkery, but in a nice kind of way,” Emma says.
“That’s the line I was trying to walk, for sure.”
“So, uh…”
“So what do you think you’re doing after the next home game?” Killian asks, and it immediately feels as if his heart bursts. Emma grins.
“When is that?”
“Tomorrow.”
She laughs, and it’s perfect and wonderful and he’d give up his signing bonus and player option to hear it every day for the rest of his life because he might have missed it every day for the last twelve years and he wants her to come to every single game for, like, the rest of forever.
Emma presses back up on her toes, an arm slung around his neck and the whole world could burst into flames and Killian isn’t certain he would notice. She kisses him again.
“Was that the answer?” he ask. “Because it didn’t seem like--”
“--Oh my God, you are needy. Yes, that was the answer. What did you have in mind, exactly?”
He grins, hope and happiness and a ten-game hit streak he’s certain will be sparked solely on the way her eyes get brighter when she looks at him. “Everything.”
They don’t get off the stoop for a few more moments, which is, honestly, really kind of nice in a normal way that doesn’t include tragic backstories or professional baseball careers. It just is – the way it always was and, maybe, always could be and Killian is certain there are several thousand missed calls on the phone he turned off in the car.
“You, uh….do you have to get back to the Stadium?” Emma asks, and Killian kind of hates how cautious she sounds.
She stares at her shoes.
“Do you want me to?”
“Ah, that’s a stupid, loaded question.”
“Better get back to media training.”
“Did you have to do that?”
He nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth and it is impossible not to be hopelessly charmed by her. He may tell her that eventually. “On more than one occasion,” Killian admits. “Every team has different rules and expectations and--”
“--And I’m going to go ahead and assume there’s nothing straighter than Pinstripes, right?”
“I’m not sure your joke made a ton of sense, Swan, but, something like that.”
She winces, gritting her teeth like she’s nervous she’s the root of this problem that is the exact opposite of that. “Can you get benched in baseball?”
“Yes.”
“Really?”
“Why would you think that I can’t? It’s a sport.”
“No, no, I know, but, like...it’s not like basketball or something.”
Killian arches an eyebrow, mostly so Emma will click her tongue and roll her eyes and he’s only slightly worried if he does, actually go upstairs, he’ll never actually leave. That’s even more stalker-esque than the number thing. He hopes Elsa isn’t there.
He and Emma have never actually made out on a couch.
It might be a nice change of pace.
“Aw, c’mon,” Emma sighs, palms back on his chest and his fingers keep drifting back to the hem of her shirt. “You know what I mean.”
“I promise, love, I absolutely have no idea what you mean.”
“I’m mostly just….I don’t know, apologizing? For causing a scene and you’re probably going to end up on SportsCenter and like in The Times right?”
“The New York Times? ”
“That’s a newspaper.”
“I’m aware it’s a newspaper, Swan, but I doubt The New York Times is going to care about me or anything I did in right field unless it was catch a ball.”
“You did that today,” Emma points out, and Killian is dimly aware of several camera shutter snaps a few feet away. He probably shouldn’t have worn team-branded apparel out.
That will probably be points five through eight on Regina’s inevitable list of all the things he’s done wrong in the last twelve hours.
“I did,” Killian agrees. “Kind of goes with the positional territory and you don’t have anything to apologize for, Swan.”
She shakes her head before he’s finished talking, which is only slightly troubling, threatening to move some clouds in front of his metaphorical sun or however it would work. “I mean that’s just objectively untrue. There was yelling and you kept looking over your shoulder and that popcorn guy was so hardcore.”
“Did he not tell you his name?”
“No, that’s weird right?”
“Eh, I mean he was a little preoccupied distracting that one security guard.”
“You saw that?”
“Swan, you’ve got to stop acting like I don’t have eyes,” Killian laughs. “Or wasn’t almost painfully aware of you standing in that section.”
“You were supposed to be catching foul balls!”
“We’re repeating ourselves now. I did that. I promise, The Times does not care about it, I probably won’t get benched, could get benched, will likely get fined and yelled at by my agent, but you’re not punching me for the number thing and I’d really like to come upstairs.”
She blinks. That’s not the immediate reaction he was going for, but it’s still not punching, so Killian assumes he’s working with some kind of hitter’s count.
“Thoughts,” Killian presses, and Emma’s eyes widen. They are distractingly green. Something about the Oakland A’s and uniform colors.
“About The New York Times?”
“The amount I want to talk about The New York Times or any New York City publication is negligible, Swan. I’d be happy never to mention the newspaper industry again.”
“Dying anyway.”
“Daily News fired half its staff.”
“Really?”
Killian nods, the muscles in his face starting to ache from overuse. He’s fairly positive his calves are going to be sore for the rest of the season. It is all worth it. “Did you not know that?” he asks. “That was major news.”
“I’ve been kind of busy. Unpacking and filling out paperwork. You know the NYPD makes you fill out a shit ton of paperwork before they’ll give you a badge.”
“Yeah, I’d imagine.”
Emma hums, but there’s nothing nervous about it. It sounds a bit like flirting. Killian hopes it continues to be a lot like flirting. For the rest of the season.
And longer.
“If I ask you to come upstairs again is that going to be weird?”
“Nah,” he promises. “Unnecessary, but I did recently go to media training and I’m more than willing to answer questions on some sort of perpetual loop.”
She smiles.
His heart bursts into flames.
“An incredibly impressive athlete,” Emma mutters. Her fingers are back on the front of his shirt, tugging lightly on fabric as she keeps smiling at him and definitely flirting with him. “C’mon, I unpacked my coffee mugs like as soon as I got here.”
There isn’t an elevator in her building, which isn’t doing much to help the state of Killian’s calves, but at some point Emma’s fingers lace through his and nothing really matters after that.
And he’s not entirely sure what he expected from a two-bedroom apartment in Chelsea, but walking into the room is like walking into a memory and it’s soft and warm and there’s a woman sitting on the couch.
That may make it difficult to make out there.
“Oh my God,” the woman breathes, eyes going wide and mouth hanging open and Emma’s hand tightens a fraction of an inch. Killian glances at her, a flash of a smile and something that might be a wink, but he’s admittedly a bit out of flirting practice and possibly losing what little control he had on the day.
The couch creaks when, presumably, Elsa jumps off it, crossing the space in a few, quick steps and Emma hisses in a breath. “You’re Killian Jones,” Elsa says, and it sounds like an accusation. He nods, the words getting caught in his throat and the vice-like grip Emma has on his hand. “You’re Killian Jones and you’re here. In my apartment. Well, our apartment. That’s...that’s a thing that is happening. I thought Mary Margaret was kidding.”
“Wait, what?” Emma asks sharply. “You talked to Mary Margaret?”
“Hours ago. I was honestly getting ready to send out some kind of search party. Did you guys walk back from the Bronx?”
“Like 86th Street.”
“Yuh huh.”
“Got food.”
“Right.”
“Talked.”
“Naturally.”
Killian does his best to take a deep breath, but he feels like he’s being judged and evaluated for his trade stock again and Emma hasn’t ever let go of his hand. He tries to focus on that. It feels important.
Elsa’s eyes flicker towards him, a wry smile on her face. “You guys have made the news already,” she says, easy as anything and Emma curses loudly.
“Already, huh?” Killian asks. HIs voice doesn’t actually shake, which is as nice as it is surprising, but he knew it was going to happen as soon as his feet moved towards the warning track in the seventh inning and he’d absolutely spent the rest of the game glancing over his shoulder to make sure Emma was really there.
“I think there was some talk during the game, actually. Michael Kay was scandalized. Paul O’Neill thought it was kind of nice, I guess, at least that’s what David said and--”
“--You talked to David about this too?” Emma interrupts, voice rising on every syllable and, that time, it’s Killian’s turn to squeeze his hand lightly.
“Was he the one that was going to kill me?” he asks.
Emma groans, but Elsa laughs softly, nodding as if she fully expected the conversation to deviate to murder plans and Paul O’Neill’s romantic tendencies. “You should absolutely be worried about that,” Elsa says. “Because he’s a huge Yankees fan and he was super excited when you got traded her.”
Emma’s eyes look dangerously close to falling out of her face.
“What?” Elsa asks.
“No one thought to mention that?” Emma yells. She still hasn’t let go of Killian’s hand. He’s probably not counting the seconds or anything.
“No one knew that you knew Killian Jones.”
“I didn’t realize that was a prerequisite for knowing things! And it’s not really...I mean--”
“--It’s been awhile,” Killian finishes. “What do you think we should name the popcorn guy? He didn’t introduce himself apparently.”
Elsa laughs and Emma’s whole body sags with the force of her exhale, head landing on Killian’s shoulder in a familiar kind of way that makes his whole soul ache. That may also have something to do with all those blocks they walked and Regina is going to rip him apart.
Literally.
He has no idea how he’s going to swing a baseball bat tomorrow.
“So you just want to name him yourself?” Elsa asks, laughter clinging to the words. Killian nods.
“Feels rude to just keep referring to him as popcorn guy.”
“Right, right, naturally. Did you know it was Emma as soon as he turned around?”
He nods. “Immediately.”
“Oh that’s stupid,” Emma sighs, both Killian and Elsa gaping at her and he refuses to be blamed for whatever his pulse does at the dejected tone of her voice. “No, no, not like that,” she continues. “Just...I mean I grew up, right?”
Killian nods again. “I’m fairly certain that’s how the world works, love.”
“Right, right, but you knew it was me.”
“You knew it was me,” he says. “And you don’t even get to blame the uniform. No last names on pinstripes.”
“A tradition like no other.”
“That’s the Master’s.”
She laughs, soft and easy and her smile has already worked its way into several different corners of his being, tiny pinpricks of light that are far too sentimental for one day, but Killian knew it was her as soon as he turned around and he figure that has to count for something.
Everything.
“Why do you know that?”
“Why are you quoting taglines for sports you’re not aware of?”
“I think you just like arguing with me?”
“Not like that,” Killian argues, almost forgetting about Elsa entirely and there are goosebumps on Emma’s arms when he brushes his fingers over her shoulders. “It’s just--”
“--Yeah, it kind of felt that way, didn’t it?”
“Exactly.”
They haven’t actually said anything, not really, but they’re only a few feet into a three-story walkup in Chelsea and there’s still a roommate standing there and some overpaid SportsCenter anchor detailing the craziest thing you’ll see in baseball this season, and everything feels heavy and light and it would be easier if they were making out on the couch.
Killian doesn’t know why he’s so obsessed with the goddamn couch.
“I think the popcorn guy’s name is Bryan,” Elsa announces.
“What?”
“Bryan.”
Emma jerks back when she repeats the name, eyebrows pulled low and she’s close enough to Killian that he’s a little worried he’s going to step on her feet. He keeps trying to occupy the same space as her. “Bryan,” Emma echoes, and Elsa shrugs. “Bryan the popcorn guy?”
“You got a better name? Also, shouldn’t he get kicked out for throwing popcorn at the field?”
“We weren’t actually right on field level. I don’t think he’s got that good an arm.”
“Aw, poor Bryan.”
“We’re going to start calling him that and it’s not going to wind up being his name and that’s just going to be weird.”
“You think you’re going to run into Bryan the popcorn guy again?” Elsa asks pointedly. Killian wonders if she’s a lawyer. It feels like they’ve just admitted to something.
He really hopes so.
There’s a blush to Emma’s cheeks, teeth digging into her lower lip and Elsa smiles triumphantly. “Maybe Bryan could buy you some peanuts next game or something. He’s getting his fifteen minutes because of you guys. Or CrackerJacks. Do they make CrackerJacks anymore?”
“That’s how the song goes isn’t it?” Emma asks.
“Yes, but you were pretty busy during the seventh-inning stretch.”
The blush gets….blushier.
That’s not a word.
He absolutely does not care.
“Aw, that wasn’t even clever,” Emma mutters. Elsa shrugs again.
“And they definitely still make CrackerJacks,” Killian adds. “They sell them at the Stadium, although I’m more partial to sunflower seeds during the game.”
“No bubble gum, huh?” Elsa asks.
Killian opens his mouth to say something about even the thought of bubble gum is the worst thing in the world, but Emma answers before he can. “He got drunk on bubble gum flavored vodka once,” she explains, Elsa’s expression unreadable.
She’s definitely a lawyer.
“Did I ever actually introduce myself?”
Killian shakes his head. “Not officially, no.”
“Ah, that’s rude isn’t it? I’m so sorry.”
Elsa thrusts her hand out in the space between them, a strong grip that’s not quite intimidating, but she was sitting on the couch and very likely waiting for Emma to come home and Killian can’t stop the groan that falls out of him when he hears his name coming from the general area of the TV.
“I think you guys are the lead story,” Elsa continues.
“God, of course we are,” Emma mumbles. And, reasonably, Killian knows he shouldn’t be thrilled by all of this, but yesterday he was sure Emma Swan was a distant memory and possible what if, but now her hand is wrapped up in his and it’s a little sweaty and a little warm and he really can’t stop thinking of sun-type puns.
So, honestly, he couldn’t care less about what’s supposed to happen when he’s far too preoccupied with what he wants and he pulls his phone out of his back pocket, turning it back on and pointedly ignoring the notifications on his screen.
He turns, flipping his wrist and presenting Emma with the phone. She lifts her eyebrows. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“Tomorrow?” Killian asks, and it’s a shit way to ask her out on a second date, but he might be asking a hell of a lot more and he suddenly realizes he’d used the word everything before.
And she hadn’t objected to it.
“Is it supposed to be doing that?”
“What?”
Emma nods towards the phone, lit up like it’s goddamn Times Square and they’d successfully avoided that on their trek downtown. “I think you’re under attack. And being called and texted at the same time.”
“God, she needs to relax,” Killian mumbles, but he knows that’s like hoping tourists don’t stop and take photos in the middle of Times Square. He all but slams his thumb into the ignore button and Emma can’t quite keep her laugh quiet, which does something entirely unfair to several of Killian’s body parts, but he was woefully bad at science in high school and he never went to college and he’s spent way too much time thinking about the sun.
“Agent?”
“You’re a genius, Swan.”
“That sounds a little like you’re making fun.”
“I’m trying very hard to ask you out again.”
The blush turns into something else entirely, her lips pressed together and it almost feels as if his ribs are expanding and contracting at the same time. It’s not entirely unpleasant. It’s kind of warm in the way that home is supposed to be warm.
Elsa mumbles something about telling David to stop the search, but it’s white noise and Emma’s fingers brush over the back of his palm when she pulls the phone out of his hand.
“Yeah?” she asks softly, and Killian’s going to do permanent damage to his neck from nodding. It’ll be worth it.
He’s a sentimental, emotional sap and only kind of disappointed he didn’t actually hit that home run into section 203.
He figures he’s got the rest of the season to do it.
“Yeah,” Killian says. “So, uh….I don’t know what you’re schedule is like, but if there’s a chance you want to be in the Bronx again tomorrow. I can probably--”
He doesn’t finish. Again. She’s kissing him and he’s kissing her and the floorboards make noise when Elsa moves towards her room, and it might not be the best first impression in the history of the world, but Emma makes a noise that Killian is suddenly determined to hear every day for the rest of his life, so that kind of takes precedence.
“Does that mean this was a date?” Emma asks.
“I’m a little disappointed that wasn’t more obvious.”
“Guess you’ll have to work on it the second time through the lineup.”
“That’s the greatest joke you’ve ever made.”
“Now you’re just trying to woo me.”
“Is it working?”
She looks up, meeting his gaze and it’s all even and green and easy and his phone is still ringing in her hand. “Absolutely,” Emma promises. “And I’m off again tomorrow so if you want to prove your baseball importance and get me tickets or something then--”
She doesn’t finish.
They need to stop this.
They absolutely do not need to stop this.
They spend a few more moments kissing in the middle of her apartment, and Killian hardly notices when his phone clatters to the floor. Emma exhales against him, fingers carding through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Deal,” Killian says, bigger than four letters or one phone number exchange and it takes a few prolonged minutes to actually get his legs to agree to leaving that apartment.
He does, eventually, answer Regina’s calls, letting her shout and scream and mutter what an idiot no less than forty-two consecutive times, and she huffs when he asks about getting tickets for tomorrow’s game, but there’s a shout in the background and Robin was always kind of romantic anyway.
“Let him do it,” Robin calls. “Think about the pub.”
“That’s not why we’re doing this,” Killian argues. It’s a losing battle.
Regina makes a noise like she’s thinking or considering profit margins and how this could all translate into an endorsement deal and the couch in Killian’s apartment is incredibly uncomfortable. He ignores that realization.
“Can you do it Regina?” he asks impatiently.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Well you’re just grunting into the phone and I’ve got some police officer out for my head and his wife is questionably intimidating--”
“--Wait, you’re intimidated by the police officer or his wife?” Robin asks, and it sounds like Regina has put the call on speaker phone.
Killian rolls his eyes. “That’s an antiquated question, Locksley.”
“That’s a genuine question because this is a confusing situation. Were you pining over this girl forever is that honestly what’s going on?”
“She’s not a girl.”
There’s an almost too loud silence on the other end of the phone and Killian practically growls when he slumps down. And then Regina laughs.
Loudly.
So, maybe, he’s just descended entirely into madness. He hopes not. It would be really disappointing if this whole day was just a byproduct of his subconsciousness desperate desire to find Emma Swan again.
“Do you love her?” Regina asks pointedly, and now Robin is laughing and Killian might be dying. It would probably be more comfortable than this conversation. “Is that really what’s going on?”
“Ah, c’mon, Gina, that’s romantic,” Robin sighs.
“Jones. I asked you a question.”
“He always sucked at media training.”
“That is patently untrue,” Killian counters, and he’s walked himself right into this corner. He’s going to blame popcorn guy.
He should probably buy popcorn guy goddamn season tickets.
“So then answer the question,” Regina says.
“No comment.”
“That’s a yes,” Robin crows, and Killian can’t actually slide any further down the couch without twisting his spine into a wholly unnatural position.
“That’s not a yes.”
“Sounded like a yes!”
“Mills, can you control your husband,” Killian seethes, but there’s not actually much venom in the words and that’s only marginally frustrating.
“Look who’s antiquated now,” Regina mutters. “And are we only referring to each other by last name now?”
“You started it.”
“You are a child.”
“No, he’s not,” Robin argued. It sounded like he was jumping up and down. “He’s in love and he wants to barter for this lady’s affections with seats in the box. Is that a better word, Jones?”
“What is with the last name thing?” Regina asks sharply, and Killian’s eyes hurt when he squeezes them closed.
He’s going to bite his lip in half.
“Can you do it, Regina or do I have to call someone from...I don’t know, guest services?”
“That’s not the department you’d call at all guest services is for, like, groups and making sure there are first aid kits available.”
“If I make a joke about the state of your heart and your current need for first aid regarding your romantic life are you going to hit me the next time you see me?” Robin asks. It’s difficult to understand the question when he laughs it out though.
“Yes,” Killian answers simply. “I need you both to stop being so goddamn weird about this.”
More silence.
Deafening silence.
The kind of silence that also threatens to hurt his spine.
“We can be not weird about this,” Regina says eventually, and that’s only kind of weird because it is absolutely the first time she’s ever said the word weird in real life. Killian’s mouth twitches. “But I’m thinking the love of your life probably won’t actually want to sit in the team box. She didn’t seem the type.”
“You got that from the spot on SportsCenter?”
“And a detailed breakdown of her and her friends from Ariel. I’d be worried about the police officer’s wife though. Sounded determined.”
“She should be.”
“He’s totally in love with her,” Robin mumbles, and Killian can’t bring himself to object. It’d probably be a lie anyway.
That’s not nearly as weird as it should be.
And Regina is as good as her word, she gets tickets, plural, in section 203 and Killian turns during roll call to find himself face to face with the goddamn sun. There’s light shining off her hair, tucked under a hat that makes her ears look almost ridiculous, but in the best kind of way and he never knows how he knows, because there’s no number on the front of her shirt, but she doesn’t have to turn around.
He knows.
He’s probably been in love with her since he was eighteen.
He figures that has something to do with it.
And whatever happens to every single nerve ending in his body when he realizes Emma is wearing his number in right field and smiling at him and he’s not great at winking, but Killian certainly makes an effort. He can’t quite hear her laugh over the din of the crowd and the next name on roll call, but he knows exactly what it sounds like and the force of her smile when she meets his gaze is only a little staggering.
Killian jumps when he hears the crack of a bat on ball and he only has a few seconds to react, but that’s all he needs. He’s kind of fueled on the metaphorical fire of Emma’s eyes anyway and his legs ache when he runs.
He runs as fast as he ever has.
The ball lands in his glove and he hasn’t actually practiced his fundamentals in years, but the cheers sound louder than normal and his ears are ringing a bit and Killian’s shoulder hurts when he slams into the wall.
His head snaps around immediately, looking for something he’s, at least, seventy-two percent certain he’s going to find, and Emma’s still smiling.
She’s also jumping. On the bleacher.
And yelling.
“What?” Killian shouts, throwing the ball back to the second-baseman and Regina is going to kill him, bring him back to life and then kill him again. He still can’t hear her.
“Again, Jones?” Scarlet laughs. He jogs towards the wall, glove tucked under his arm and an expression that’s somewhere between amused and incredulous.
That’s fair.
“Oh is that her?” Scarlet continues, nodding towards Emma and she’s standing with a guy who is probably the police detective. The police detective looks a little stunned. He doesn’t appear to be handling this as well as Mary Margaret was.
Maybe Killian will mention that at some point. It might earn him some extra points with Mary Margaret.
Killian makes a noise he hopes is an agreement in the back of his throat. “I can’t understand what she’s saying.”
“Ah, that’s because you made some crazy catch in the outfield. Fans will fan, y’know. And, hey, maybe now that’ll lead SportsCenter and they won’t talk about this. Whatever this is.”
“I doubt that,” Eric, the center fielder married to Ariel who is probably only too aware of what this is, objects. “Is she yelling a name?”
“It looks like she’s trying to direct planes at LaGuardia.”
“JFK is a far superior airport. There’s all that construction at LaGuardia.”
“Jesus Christ,” Killian mumbles, working a laugh out of both of them, but Scarlet is kind of right and Emma is pointing at the popcorn guy. He waves. “Oh, damn, it is a name. Swan, you’ve got to enunciate!”
She scowls, the eye roll barely visible. Scarlet rests his forearm on Killian’s shoulder, using him as leverage to take in the crowd that’s still screaming and they’re all going to get suspended. Rob Manfred’s going to walk to Yankee Stadium and give them forty-game bans personally.
“Anyone tell you it’s super adorable that you’ve got a nickname for her?” Scarlet asks.
“That’s her name,” Killian reasons.
“Mmhm, didn’t Ariel say it was a nickname?”
Eric nods. “Was adamant about it. And how lovestruck Jones was while he was trying to stalk this lady, but I mean we were there for that too.”
“You tell her you didn’t need that part of the update?”
“You met my wife?”
“Fair,” Scarlet chuckles.
“Both of you shut up,” Killian snaps. “I can’t hear her. Swan, we’ve got to stop doing this. I’ve got to go hit!”
She rolls her whole head that time, shoulders sagging with the force of her huff and it’s difficult not to be attracted to that. “His name’s not Bryan,” Emma yells, and popcorn guy is still waving.
The police detective has not blinked in days. At least. David. The police detective’s name is David. Emma told Killian that in front of Columbus Circle the day before.
“It’s not Bryan the popcorn guy,” Emma continues. “It’s Miles the popcorn guy!”
“Miles,” Killian repeats, her smile getting wider at the stunned tone of his voice.
“Miles the popcorn guy.”
“Hey, Jones,” Miles says. He’s going to dislocate his shoulder from waving so much. “Nice catch! We’re, uh...ignore those message boards. The real fans are psyched you’re finally in pinstripes. Long time coming, huh?”
“Something like that.”
Will is never going to stop laughing and there are footsteps moving towards them, an umpire or Rob Manfred coming to get them out of the outfield and actually playing the game they’re paid millions of dollars to play.
It’s probably not Manfred though. There’d be way more booing from the fans in section 203.
“Have we walked into the Twilight Zone?” Eric asks.
“That’s a fair question, actually,” Killian admits.
“Does Miles only eat popcorn? That can’t be healthy.”
“I haven’t done a detailed study of his dietary habits, strange as that may seem.”
“At this point, I wouldn’t be surprised. Shit, we’re all get going to get fined for your romance.”
“It’s nice though,” Will argues. “Makes our storied franchise more relatable to the public. Right? I bet Jones’ agent has figured out a way to spin it. She kind of terrifies me.”
“I’m going to tell her that,” Killian warns.
Will ignores him, waving a hand through the air and Emma’s eyebrows jump when the words fly out of his mouth. “Hey, hey! Jones’ girlfriend! You got a name? It’s going to be weird if you come into the clubhouse and I don’t know what your name is.”
David blanches. That’s fair too. The whole thing is a seemingly never-ending farce.
“Emma,” she answers, and her voice doesn’t shake. If anything, it gets louder. The umpire or league rep or whoever stops moving behind them. Killian isn’t sure he’s still breathing.
It’s still not all that uncomfortable.
“Ok,” Will says, as if that’s that. “Cool. Emma and Miles the popcorn guy and who do you think is going to play you when they make the movie of this?”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh my God, Scarlet, what did we just talk about?” Killian groans. “Shut up.”
He grins, eyebrows jumping up his forehead and excitement practically palpable around him. “I'm thinking….like one of the Chris’s, y’know? What about the guy with you, Emma? You good with Chris Evans, police detective guy?”
“How did you know that?” David asks.
“Word gets around a clubhouse quick. You going to duel Jones for Emma’s honor or, like, what are your thoughts on this?”
“If he’s not an idiot and keeps making catches like that in right field.”
“Shit,” Eric mumbles, but there’s a hint of humor to that too. “Lofty expectations.”
David shrugs. “The first one was more important.”
Killian salutes. It’s ridiculous. He’s going to have to sign another extension to pay for all the fines he’s racking up.
“You going to guarantee a home run on back to back days or is that too much to ask?” Emma asks.
Killian tilts the brim of his hat up. “Are you asking?”
“Was that not obvious?”
“Maybe we should work on that some more. Being more specific.”
“At least a double. Against the shift.”
“You’ve got a deal, love.”
He would never say he did it on purpose. Not in front of all those fans and a police detective who couldn't seem to decide whether or not he wanted to glare at Killian or keep cheering for him and certainly not with two incredibly opinionated teammates standing next to him, but he might have done it on the hope that it would be alright and Emma hadn’t objected to girlfriend. So he didn’t do it on purpose, but he might have done it selfishly and needily and that second one isn’t a word.
Emma smiles.
“Alright, alright, c’mon Casanova,” Eric chuckles, yanking on the back of Killian’s jersey and the number that matches Emma’s.
He hits a single, and it’s absurd to be disappointed by that, particularly when it does beat the shift, but Killian had used the word everything and he meant it and means it and all incarnations of all tenses.
They make the backpage of The Post the next day.
Robin cackles when he shoves the entire paper into the phone screen, calling because they’re in Tampa now and Emma had come into the clubhouse after they beat the Orioles again.
Will shook her hand.
And it just kind of goes from there.
It’s chaotic and stressful and there is so much baseball during the regular season and then even more during the postseason because they win the Wild Card in the Bronx with Emma wearing her number in section 203 of the bleachers.
Regina had tried to get her to move into the team suite �� ”It’s the playoffs, Ms. Swan, you shouldn’t have to be out there with all the normal fans.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Regina, are you suggesting there are levels of fans?” – but that had worked as well as Killian expected it to and he wasn't sure there was a bigger New York Yankees fan in the entire world than Emma.
Will and Robin had both laughed when she’d called after that Boston game, shouting about intent and should have charged him and nothing Killian had said got her to stop. Even after David promised she’d lost her mind during the broadcast.
Emma leads roll call when the Yankees come back home after the Boston series. It’s on SportsCenter again.
“We should be getting royalties from this,” Killian complains, but she kisses him silent and they really are very good at making out on a variety of couches.
And they keep winning.
There are more games and more series and then it’s the Series and the words are out of his mouth before he can really process what he’s saying.
“Do...do you,” Killian starts, tucked against Emma in a room with frames on the wall. She helped pick them out. And fill them.
“Do I what?”
“I really want you to be there, Swan.”
Her teeth find her lower lip, shoulders shifting when she takes a deep breath through her nose and Killian counts the seconds. Ten. Ten full seconds until she answers.
Or asks.
“Yeah?”
He nods, the pillow rumpling underneath his cheek, and wills his heart not to beat out of his chest. It’s a close call. “More than anything.”
“Should probably make Regina get tickets.”
“Please don’t talk about Regina before I’m going to try and make out with you, love.”
“Only try?”
Killian grins and Emma laughs and they don’t get a ton of sleep before he has to get on a plane, but she gets on a different plane and when the ball lands in his glove in a right field that’s not his, he’s certain his whole body erupts into flames.
Of joy. Or happiness. Or perfection.
Because they won.
And Emma is there.
It just takes some time to find her.
There are cheers and Gatorade dumps and Killian’s uniform is plastered to him by the time he works his way towards home plate and a line of family and friends with credentials hanging around their neck and some FOX intern is already trying to get him back towards the mound.
He is, apparently, going to win some kind of award.
Oh shit, he might be the MVP of the World Series. Huh.
Killian doesn’t see her at first, but he hears her, shouts of his name and what might be his number and no one’s referred to by number only since his days in single-A, but it’s kind of endearing when Emma does it and he nearly knocks over the barricade.
She helps when she jumps towards him.
“Nice catch,” Emma whispers, but that’s as much as she says before he’s kissing her and she’s kissing him and it’s good and great and goddamn fantastic.
His lips slant over hers and her fingers find their way back into his hair, drifting to the drenched collar of his jersey, and Killian swears he can actually feel Emma’s laughter in the very middle of him when he tugs her closer. One of her shoes falls off.
“I love you,” Killian says, not the first time he’s told her or promised her, but this feels different and even more important and he has to blink when Emma leans back and beams at him.
Like the goddamn sun.
“I love you too.”
The barricade falls over with an impossibly loud crash and someone who is almost certainly Scarlet laughs, a phone in his hand and more laughter from New York and Regina shouts stop making out for two seconds, you’re ruining the TV schedule and she’s kind of got a point.
“I’ll be right back,” Killian mutters.
Emma nods. “I’m counting on it.”
There are more pictures and no one bothers to put the barricade back up and the kiss winds up on the cover of Sports Illustrated a headline about “New York State of Mind” that doesn’t entirely make sense, but they all buy a dozen copies and it looks good in a frame on the apartment Killian and Emma get together.
And there’s more to it all – a life and unexpected challenges and games that criss-cross the country, but Emma only ever sits in section 203 and Killian comes back home after every road swing and there are more questions and more answers and he changes his number eventually.
They’ve got a new birthday to celebrate and both Emma and Killian are positive he’s going to have one hell of an arm in right field.
#cs ff#captain swan#captain swan ff#captain swan fic#cs fic#it's opening dayyyyyyyy#i'm only slightly to moderately worried about freezing on sunday afternoon
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8.2.18 // 4:30pm // school subjects and AP exams oh my
so i recently (ok not so recently i’m sorry super busy rn) got an ask from an anon about subject specific tips and ap exams. this is the masterpost i told you to look out for ;). there are no ap exams in college, but some of the stuff is still applicable. i did my best to be as comprehensive as possible and dump everything in one place. hope this is helpful! xoxo, m
ps. guess where the actual tips are?
if you said “under the cut” then you’re right bc i’m predicable af
tips by subject:
languages (i took spanish):
1. flashcards are your friend. i don’t care if they’re digital (would recommend quizlet or studyblue) or paper, but they help immensely with either vocab or things like remembering literature.
2. charts are also your friend. conjugations giving you a hard time? write out a chart of the different tenses and the conjugations for each subject. put down some of the irregulars too.
3. acronyms/pnemonics are also also your friend. a lot of these already exist, you just have to go find them. i’m pretty sure i still remember what “wedding” stands for for the spanish subjunctive.
4. it’s ok to start over. it’s easy to start a sentence based on what you’d say in english. you’re doing fine until *bam* you hit that word/phrase you really need but you have no clue how to say it. whether it’s an oral or written exam, take a few seconds to think about it and, if you can’t figure it out, just back track. restart the sentence and rework it. better to do that than to lose all your time thinking of one word you may or may not know.
5. skirt around things. if you can’t remember how to say fridge but you really need to say it for something, just say “machine that keeps food cold” or something. it might sound silly, but it gets the point across and removes the road block.
6. make a list. no, not a to do list. if there’s phrases you find yourself reaching for all the time, but you can never remember, make a list of them and their translations. it might be because its a phrase/part of a sentence structure you use a lot in your native language or whatever. make that list and drill just those few phrases into your head. it’s helpful
english/language arts:
1. proofread. i guarantee you’ll find a mistake, a sentence that makes no sense, or one that just sounds cringy. thank me later.
2. have a damn thesis. its ok if you just need to write and spit words/ideas out for a while to figure it out. but figure it out.
3. conclusion ~= introduction. for those of you who didn’t get the tilde, it means not. yes, they both tie your points to your thesis but they are not to same. do not just reword the same information in the conclusion. push your ideas just a little further. i usually like the push them a little bit outside the realm of what i talked about in my paper. for example, if i focused on the first 5 chapters of the book in the rest of my paper, i’ll expand the ideas to the rest of the book. or if i’m talking about female characters and focus on just one or two, i’ll use the conclusion to potentially connect it to another.
4. have favorites. pick a few fav transitions, sentence structures, and fancy vocab words. basically build a toolbox. this way you won’t have to think as hard when you want to “spice up” your work.
5. summaries only go so far. once you get to higher level english classes, there will be a lot of analysis of specific imagery, or wording, or dialogue. reading cliff notes is only going to give you the plot and none of this. if you don’t have time to read and you’ve been assigned a pretty standard english novel/play/whatever, take the time to look up some famous quotes or symbols. they’ll probably come up in discussion and this will help you look less unprepared.
6. have on question/comment ready. if your teacher/prof is into discussions and grades on participation, it’s handy to write down one (or a few) things. it’s easy to forget what you were going to say while you follow the discussion and it sucks to get docked points for not saying anything. even if it’s just a thoughtful question, jot it down.
history:
1. lol prob my weakest subject, just go see the apush (ap us history) section bc i don’t have much more for you than that.
science:
1. back to basics. i say it all the time, i’ll say it again. really understand basic concepts. they will come back. i’m serious.
2. pattern recognition. science problems are often times about recognizing patterns. once you identify the type of problem it is, even if you’ve never seen the exact one/something similar before, solving it becomes way easier.
3. make a recipe book. tied to the last one, but once you recognize a type of problem, you need steps to solve it. go through any practice problems you’re given to determine all the “types” of problems. once you’ve categorized them, make yourself a step-by-step guide on how to solve.
4. flashcards. you’ll have to know polyatomic ions or random biology facts. see languages tip #1 for more.
5. note your errors in lab. if you do something wrong, don’t just try to brush it under the table and forget about it. not that it’s a big deal, because its not, so don’t freak out. they’re just great opportunities to note sources of error. i mean obviously dont write in your lab report that you weren’t paying attention and mixed the wrong chemicals, but something like “we may not have waited sufficient time for the product to dry” can explain why you got 800% yield.
6. have a toolkit. kinda like a recipe book, but just a collection of straight facts that come up often. knowing common molecular weights and chemical properties (is ammonia acidic or basic?) will make things go faster. like i said earlier, polyatomic ions are also great.
7. brush up on some simple arithmetic. similar to the tool kit, this will just make things go faster. being able to quickly add things and calculate easy percentages (ex: 30%) will make things like hw and exams go faster. i’m of the opinion it’s always good to know how to add, subtract, multiply, and divide w/o a calculator (on paper, not all in your head)
bonus: math #5 and #7
math:
1. see science #1
2. see science #2
3. see science #3
4. see science #4. see a pattern here? you might wonder why you need to flashcard math, but it’s good for learning equations or the names of certain techniques. if the prof asks you to solve something using X technique and you don’t know what that is, that’s gonna pose a problem. also good for the unit circle (don’t get me started)
5. figure out your speed. this is applicable to most everything, but i find it most relevant for math. is it better for you to speed through the whole exam and then do it all again/check it over 2x? or for you to take it slow so you know you got everything right the first time? personally i use the first approach, but i’m a fast taker and prefer to have time to process between repeating problems instead of staring at it forever once and never looking again.
6. science #7. a lot of teachers will expect you to be able to do this.
7. go over the material a couple times. also applicable to everything. i find it’s easier to remember things when i know that concepts are connected. you might have learned X 3 weeks before Y, but if you go back over, you might realize they’re closely related. this will help you if you’re not sure on a test because you can reason through things using the connections you’ve drawn
tips by ap course (obv look at the subject above bc i will be giving *really specific stuff* here that i’ve gathered from experience. they’re also ordered by when i took them, sorry it’s not super logical but i didn’t want to forget one)
general ap course/exam tips:
1. practice exams. you need to be familiar with what will/will not show up. you don’t always need to simulate and real testing situation, but i’d recommend doing at least 1-2 that way. also *know how many questions they’re are you so can pace yourself!!!!*
2. college board is pretty good about giving topic breakdowns. use those. go through and figure out what topics you’re solid on and which need more work. the above tip is to help decipher what the topics actually mean bc it can be confusing.
3. give the free response a quick flip through. do the ones you’re confident on first.
4. make sure you know the policies/what you can bring. don’t want to forget something. also once our test administrator tried to stop us 10 minutes early, but we were on top of our shit and all gave her a death glare bc we knew when we were supposed to finish.
ap chemistry:
1. polyatomic ions and molecular weights. know them
2. chapter/section reviews (in addition to class notes) and how-to guides. my teacher made us make them and let’s just say your girl did *really* well (and i’m damn proud of that one)
3. do a quick skim of the free response. applicable to most exams but, the year i took it, they’d just remade and re-curved the exam and put *way* too many free response. like no one finished them. if that’s still the case, make sure you do the one’s you’re confident on. also, i did not get to like 3 questions and still got a 5. they may have fixed this idk. (sorry this is redundant but i wanted to give this ap chem exam specific info)
ap environmental science:
1. there is a lot of damn information here. i would use chapter outlines and pick out key terms, policies, and events etc. treat this like a history class.
2. for the exam, use common sense. most of the time, the most environmentally friendly answer is the right one. if you just have a general gist of the course and its topics, but don’t know a lot of details, go with your intuition and you should be fine. i didn’t have a lot of time to study for this one and this method worked for me.
ap calc bc:
1. memorize standard derivatives. power rule, sin and cos, chain rule. that’s important.
2. similarly, memorize standard integrals.
3. don’t forget +c for indefinite integrals. just don’t.
4. similarly, if it’s definite, don’t forget to evaluate at the end! super easy thing to do, but also super easy way to lose points if you forget.
5. if the integral looks complicated, that probably means there’s a “trick” involved. u substitution, integration by parts, trig substitution. something like that.
6. memorize some standard series’, operations, and types (arithmetic, geometric etc)
7. if you’re looking at a word problem, understand what is dependent on your variable and what isn’t (in other words, what’s a constant). for example, if it says the water flows into the barrel at 50 mL/s and flows out at 1/5 times the volume, that translate to F = 50 - (1/5)V. don’t make things more complicated by trying to write everything in terms of V (in this example). also, your equation might just be a constant term or just a variable term doesn’t have to be both.
8. know what your derivative is with respect to/what it really means. aka if your problem is talking about flow and volume, how are they related to each other? flow is the change in volume *with respect to time*. so if i differentiate volume with respect to time, i get flow. if i integrate flow with respect to time, i get volume. this also helps you make sense of word problems.
*disclaimer*: it is been 5 years since i took this class and i have taken quite a few math classes after. i apologize if i introduce anything that is a little irrelevant.
ap spanish language:
1. flashcard. like seriously. there’s gonna be vocab involved.
2. understand what’s asked. for the persuasive email. *be persuasive*
3. toolkit. i mentioned this before but this was probably the most useful for this class. our teacher gave us a bunch of fancier words to use instead of causar (to cause) because that was a word we’d need a lot. the one that still sticks with me 4 years later is fomentar. have a few alternatives for these kinds of super common words, a good greeting and closing for your email, and a set of good transitions. *make sure you know how to use them properly*
4. write stuff down during listening. you can either answer questions during the first listen, then take notes the second to catch stuff you missed or vice versa.
5. it’s ok to backtrack in the speaking. don’t let yourself get stuck and just not say anything. it’ll freak you out for the rest of the exam and will rob you from showing off what you know. also take notes of things you want to mention based off cultural knowledge of the situation related to the dialogue.
6. don’t zone out. with everything going on and all the stress, it’s easy to zone out (esp during the conversation). don’t do it or you’ll have a hard time responding and freak yourself out (again)
7. don’t lose your place in the convo! they give you a sheet that shows you how many times the other “person” will talk. i lost track and said goodbye one segment early. it was bad ok. all these conversation tips are from personal experience.
ap statistics:
1. know the different kinds of tests inside and out. know the differences and the conditions. if you’ve got that, you’re like 75% the way there.
2. be familiar with sample vs population. it’s a bit confusing, but take the time to understand.
3. ok sorry i really don’t remember anything else. this exam really isn’t that difficult (in my opinion), you’ll be ok.
ap physics c:
1. free body diagrams. understand how to draw them *and draw them*. they will carry you through mechanics. draw gravitational force, normal if there’s a surface, and then any other given forces.
2. basic equations. you get an equation sheet, but knowing the equations means you know the concepts and the relations between them. big ones are f=ma and the equations relating position (x), velocity (v), and acceleration (a). also friction f=uN.
3. *normal isn’t always the opposite direction of gravity!!!!* gravity is straight down. normal is perpendicular to the surface.
4. vector components. please don’t just add vectors. break them down into components and then add or you are so fucked.
5. get familiar with triangles. this will help with the whole component thing.
6. kirchoffs rules are so helpful. know them.
7. understand the relations between voltage/potential and current in terms of the properties of circuit elements. that means the equations for resistors, capacitors, and inductors.
8. know how to add in parallel and series. it’s important. also! if the circuit is drawn “weird” a good way to know series vs parallel is that parallel elements share two nodes and that series circuits only share 1.
9. sorry i kinda blocked out E+M bc i didn’t know what i was doing (or so i thought). i still got a 4 tho so that curve is generous.
ap us history:
1. chapter outlines. pretty self explanatory.
2. make a timeline. put important events, sentiments, policies, and presidents. if you can associate these things together into time periods it will be easier. most of the time, any one question (esp long response or whatever they’re called) will only focus on 1 time period.
3. sentiments are important. if you know nothing else, know these bc they will help guide you through questions by reasoning even if you know nothing else.
4. gilder lehrman (or similar us history summaries). these are tailor specifically to apush bc they are organized by period (i think that’s what they were called?). i actually fell asleep listening to these bc i didn’t have time to study. they were mildly helpful, but every little bit helps right?
ap psychology:
1. chapter outlines/flashcards. this course is based heavily on key terms and less so on larger concepts.
2. ok sorry i took this online i remember literally nothing except how annoying my teacher was and that the exam was easy. if you know terminology i think you should do fine.
ap biology:
1. there is a lot. go through all the topics and make sure you’re solid. start with the big picture, then think about narrowing down.
2. know how charts work. things like pedigrees, punnet squares, and evolution trees (that’s def not the right term). some of the exam will just be interpretation of this.
3. i am so sorry i remember nothing else.
ap spanish literature:
1. flashcards. title, author, time period, short summary, key elements (a line, character, symbol). this is *so helpful*
2. think about the works in relation to each other. you might be asked to compare them. even if they ask you to compare something on the reading list with something new, you’ll be familiar with the points you might talk about.
3. know the lit terms. more flashcards. associate them with a particular work if you can/need to.
4. don’t freak on the listening. a lot of the recordings are old and shitty quality. take a deep breath and try your best. know that the rest of the test takers (excepting maybe natives) are experiencing the same thing.
5. use that tool box. see general spanish and ap spanish lang.
this is so freaking long and i think the moral of the story is that i blocked out my senior year ap exams. i hope this was helpful and, if you have more questions, or want more stuff like this, let me know!
#pennyfynotes#pfynguides#masterpost#tips#backtoschool#bts#school#study#studyblr#student#high school#ap exams#science#literature#english#spanish#math#university#college#hufflepuffwannabe#noodledesk#gloomstudy#pinetreestudies#jiyeonstudies#obsidianstudy#castillos-co#universi-tea
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The B Team (Complete)
The B Team
A Queliot Fic
You could want this, see if it fits for a bit and if you don’t like it, then you can go like you have been, and I’ll never tell, never tell, never tell how I fell for it, I never fell before.
The sudden silence caused Eliot to open his eyes. Margo stood above him dangling his ear buds and blocking his sun. She had her hip thrown out and a margarita in her hand.
“Can I help you Bambi?”
“I’m bored. Entertain me.” She dropped to the sand next to him, her hand raised to prevent any loss of alcohol.
“A private beach on Lake George, endless sunshine,” Eliot took a sip of her margarita, “and an endless supply liquor, which could use more lime, and you’re bored?”
Margo grabbed her drink back defensively.
“Sorry Daddy, there’s just no one for me to fuck.” She pouted and gave him sad eyes over the rim of her margarita as she sipped it.
“Well then go find somebody. I’m relaxing.” He laid back down and closed his eyes, smiling at Margo’s huff.
“You’re as boring as Q.” She got up, tossing his ear buds back on his chest, and stalked off down the beach.
Eliot placed the ear buds back in his ears, risking a glance at Q in the process. He was floating on a raft out in the lake reading a book. He was the only one Eliot knew of that could even think about bringing a book on a get away weekend, and it was part of the reason he loved him. Eliot let his gaze linger on Q and the sheer amount of his body that was exposed.
Eliot licked his bottom lip as a thought crossed his mind. He pulled the ear buds out of his ears again and got up off the sand and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion. He walked down to the edge of the water and used a recall spell to pull Q and his raft back to the shore. He was so engrossed in his studies that he didn’t even notice until Eliot cleared his throat.
“You’re going to burn.” Eliot held up the bottle of sunblock.
“Oh. Thanks.” Quentin reached for it, but Eliot held it out of his reach.
“Let me, you’ll never get all of your back.”
The mix of cold sunscreen and the warmth of Quentin’s skin sent Eliot’s head spinning more than a fifth of whiskey. He bit his lip as thoughts of what he would like to do to Quentin from this point of view. He calculated what would be an appropriate amount of rubbing and risked just a few more circles.
“Thanks Eliot.” Quentin replied without looking up from his book.
“No problem.” He pushed the raft back out on the lake with his foot. “Quentin Coldwater you are oblivious.”
Eliot had never dealt with this before. He’d played cat and mouse, but never with someone who didn’t even know that he was in the game. Walking to the house and making himself a fresh martini, Eliot pondered the what-ifs of his daydreams. He walked back to his sunbathing spot and laid on his stomach. He put his ear buds back in again and hit play, but not before gazing at Quentin in the water one last time.
3, 2, 1, you get right up and I’m the one done. You never say yes, not quite no, say just enough to make me not go. You choose your words, careful voice, in the end I’m not the first choice. You say you want someone just like me, so then why am I your, why am I your, why am I your plan B
“Quentin, can you pass me another slice please?” The three of them were sitting in the spacious living room of their rental cabin surrounded by empty bottles of wine scattered about like fallen soldiers and three pizza boxes in various stages of deconstruction and consumption.
“Sure thing El.”
Quentin reached over with a greasy slice of pizza. Eliot reached for it, and their hands brushed. His heart fluttered, his breath hitched in the back of his throat and time slowed down. Quentin met his gaze and smiled, and Eliot swore that he could feel the neurons in his brain cease firing. He swallowed and realized that he’d probably been staring at Quentin for a suspicious amount of time.
Margo’s laughter slammed Eliot back into reality.
“Did you want a slice of the other pizza El?”
Quentin Coldwater, oblivious to the point of being obnoxious.
“No, this is good Q.” Eliot took a bite even though his stomach was in so many knots he wasn’t even hungry anymore.
“I’ll tell you what Eliot really wants.” Margo slurred, dropping another empty bottle of wine on to the floor.
“Margo, I think it’s time for you to go to bed.” Eliot stood up and tried his best not to stumble on the spinning floor.
“I’ll get you a fresh drink.” Quentin got up and stumbled into the kitchen.
“Margo what are you doing.” Eliot called out in a harsh whisper.
“Moving things along. You’re doing a terrible job at it. Now carry me to bed Daddy.”
Margo raised her arms in the air and Eliot sighed, picking her up. He carried her to her bedroom, and she was asleep before he had her tucked into bed. Eliot kissed the top of her bed and padded back to the doorway. As he closed the door to Margo’s room he heard the sound of breaking glass in the kitchen.
“Quentin?!” He ran as fast as he could without stumbling, a million worst case scenarios playing through his mind. He expected to find a nothing short of a blood bath in the kitchen, with Quentin passed out on the floor, shattered glass around him, but instead Q was just standing there looking amusingly frustrated at the remains of a martini glass on the tile.
“I’m okay. I just don’t know how to make a drink.”
Eliot laughed as relief washed over him. This he could handle, this was comfortable and easy.
“Well, first let me clean up this mess, and then we’ll start in on you.”
Eliot grabbed a broom and carefully swept the floor around Quentin. He picked up the large pieces with long graceful fingers, mindful of the jagged edges. He could feel Q watching him with burning eyes, and he honestly didn’t mind. Once he was satisfied that all the glass was gone and he wouldn’t be digging any out of Quentin’s stocking feet later, he turned Q to face the table and stood behind him.
“Now what were you trying to make?” Eliot asked, trying to ignore the alarm bells that his body was sending off from once again being in a semi-compromising position with Quentin for the second time that day.
“Uh, gin and tonic?”
Eliot couldn’t hold back the sigh and eye roll.
“First of all, you were using a martini glass.”
“I just grabbed a glass.” Quentin shrugged, brushing his shoulder against Eliot’s chest and causing Eliot to bit his lip. His self-control was wavering.
“Tsk-tsk-tsk. A martini glass is for martinis. You use this glass,” Eliot reached forward, pressing his entire abdomen against Quentin’s backside, “for a gin and tonic. Now, do you want it dirty?”
“D-d-d-do I?”
Eliot’s heart leapt, maybe there was hope for Quentin yet.
“Your gin.”
“It was for you so, do you want it,” Quentin swallowed hard, “dirty?”
“The dirtier the better.”
Eliot leaned forward again, this time purposefully lingering while he searched for the olives that were exactly where he left them. Q’s body felt surprisingly sturdy beneath his, and Eliot’s mind was already calculating the number of times that he would need to reach forward.
“Now, first you put in some olives.” Eliot reached around Quentin with his other arm so he could open the jar. “I like three or four.” He stood there for a few seconds before gesturing toward Q with the open jar.
“Oh! You want me to, okay.” Q reached in with his hand and plucked out the olives one by one and plopping them in the glass.
“You learn best by doing. Now put ice in the glass to the rim.”
Eliot closed the jar of olives and slid them back into place while Quentin put ice in the glass. Eliot noticed that Q’s hands were shaking slightly, causing him to spill a few ice cubes out onto the counter.
“Shit.” He reached for them, but Eliot put his hand on Quentin’s forearm to stop him.
“Leave it. It’s just ice. Now, grab the gin and pour two shots.” Quentin reached toward the clear liquors, his hand hovering over a bottle of tequila. “Bombay, blue bottle. That right there is tequila, which you do not mix with olives.” Quentin unscrewed the cap and held the bottle at a slight angle above the glass. Eliot’s sigh caused the hair on the back of Quentin’s head to ruffle. “Fill to here.” Eliot held a finger against the glass to where two shots would measure out to, and he could feel Quentin tensing in front of him.
“Like this?” He poured a bit more, but it was good enough for Eliot.
“Looks good, now just fill the rest with tonic water. It’s the bottle labeled tonic water.” He could picture the eye roll the was surely happening in front of him as Quentin put back the gin and filled the rest of the glass with tonic water. “Now for bonus points in the future,” Eliot grabbed the glass and stepped away from Quentin and moved back onto the couch in the living room, “skewer an olive on a plastic sword and place it in the glass for garnish.” He took a long drag of the drink to calm his nerves.
“Is it good?” Quentin asked, sheepishly walking into the living room behind Eliot and siting on the opposite end of the couch.
“Let’s just say I wish I had me now to teach me how to make drinks back when I started drinking.” Eliot sipped the gin and tonic more slowly now, savoring the last half.
They sat in silence for a few moments while Eliot watched Quentin fidgeting at the end of the couch. He picked at his nails and pushed his hair behind his left ear three times before he finally looked up at Eliot and opened his mouth.
“Eliot, can we talk?” Quentin’s voice was even, but Eliot could tell it was a forced calm.
“Lay it on me Q.” Eliot stretched out, placing his feet on Quentin’s lap. Quentin immediately began playing with his shoelaces and staring at his hands while talking at a break neck pace.
“What do you think of Alice? I mean, I like her, and she seems like she’s a good person on the inside, but she’s just so intense sometimes. I invited her on this trip and she looked at me like I was crazy for wanting to relax a bit! Which maybe I am because I’ve mostly studied since we got here but it’s nice to just be away from the school for a minute you know? But I mean I like her, but I really want someone who’s… someone who’s not so intense and little more laid back. Someone like you who is just calm and so sure of everything an-“
“Quentin.” Eliot said softly, causing Q to stop and look up at him. There was something in his eyes, hiding behind a wall of insecurity. Eliot thought he saw a younger version of himself there, but suddenly everything that he wished someone would say to him was gone from his mind. He couldn’t think of anything to say that would sound right, so he downed the last of the gin and tonic, took a deep breath, and sat up and kissed Quentin Coldwater right on the mouth.
You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team.
Eliot was expecting a few things to happen. Either A: Quentin would push him away with disgust, storm out of the cabin back to never be seen again, or B: Quentin would push him away, an awkward essence would in habit the space between them until the end of time, slowly pushing them apart. There was also option C, which was the best option that Eliot’s mind had come up with: Quentin would pass out, and not remember a thing in the morning.
What Eliot was not expecting was for Quentin to lean into the kiss. He was not ready for the other man to lean forward and grab the back of his shirt in desperate fistfuls. He was not ready to held on to like a lifeline, or for the electric shock that spread through his body lighting his blood on fire and singing through his veins.
Quentin’s lips were soft against Eliot’s tongue as he flicked it inside Q’s mouth and against his teeth. Quentin moaned into Eliot’s mouth, and Eliot placed one hand behind his head, tangling his fingers in the long hair and pulling slightly, causing Quentin to unclench his teeth. He quickly darted his tongue in and over Quentin’s. Eliot wrapped his other arm around Q’s back and pulled him close enough that he could feel Quentin’s heart pounding against his chest. Eliot’s longs were burning, demanding air, but he was scared that if they broke apart that the illusion would be broken and he would awake to find that it was all a dream.
After a few blissful yet fleeting moments, Quentin pushed Eliot away. They sat staring at each other and panting heavily. Eliot moved in to kiss him again, but Q put a hand on his chest.
“No Eliot wait.” Eliot wondered if Quentin could feel his heart breaking beneath his chest. “I’m not sure if this is what I want.”
Only Quentin could have an erection straining against his pants and be unsure of what he wanted.
“Quentin.”
“No El, don’t ‘Quentin’ me right now, because I know what follows that. Some off the wall speech with your deep, smooth tenor voice that makes it sound like you’re the all knowing God of the universe.”
“Q.” Eliot reached out to try and grab one of Quentin’s hands but Quentin stood up and backed away.
“No Eliot. I just…” He ran a hand through his hair and over his face. “Give me some time.”
With every step that Quentin took toward his room, a new part of Eliot cracked. He swallowed the burning lump in this throat and wiped away the rebel tear that dared to fall with the palm of his hand. He had been so close, he could still taste Quentin on his lips, and then it all went up into smoke.
He got up and stalked down the hall to his room. As he passed Quentin’s he saw that the door hadn’t been shut all the way. He peered through the opening and saw Quentin sitting on the edge of the bed with his fingers to his lips.
Some ember in very depths of Eliot’s heart began to burn a little brighter. He quietly padded the rest of the way to his room. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed into bed, reaching out and clutching a pillow to his body.
“Fuck you Quentin Coldwater. Fuck you for being everything you are.”
Eliot played back every moment that he spent with Quentin that day, up to the terrible ending to the biggest risk he had ever taken.
“Fuck you for being my worst vice.”
This could hurt some, but if we don’t never know what it’s worth to you. I saw you first do you remember? You played it well, victim sell, how I fell for it, I never fell before.
Eliot woke up as someone crawled into bed with him. He was too upset to want to face the harsh reality of the real world yet, so he just raised his arm for Margo to climb under and cuddle against him. He pulled her close to him and let himself drift back off to sleep.
He was nearly back into the blissful land of his subconscious when Margo trailed her finger down his nose. He crinkled it and backed his head away, but she did it again.
“Margo please.” Eliot tried to turn his head into the pillow, but Margo reached out cupped his face, running a thumb over his cheekbone.
“What.” Eliot forced his eyes opened.
There before him, instead of Margo, was Quentin.
“I was thinking.” Quentin whispered, even though it was just the two of them.
“Yes?” He fought to keep a nonchalant façade while his heart hammered against his ribs as if trying to escape.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” Quentin looked down, unable to hold Eliot’s gaze. “But I want to try this.”
“Quentin.” Eliot reached out and forced Quentin to look him in the eyes. “We’re only going to do what you want to do.” He wrapped his arms around Quentin and pulled him close.
A peaceful silence settled over them, and for a moment Eliot feared that Q had fallen asleep. Suddenly Quentin reached out and touched Eliot’s bare chest, setting his skin ablaze. Eliot leaned his head back so that he could meet Quentin’s gaze.
“Eliot.” His name was nothing more than breath on Quentin’s lips.
Eliot bent his head down and placed his lips on Q’s, causing him to clench his hands, leaving red scratch marks on Eliot’s bare chest and back. They both inhaled sharply as Eliot once again plunged his tongue into Quentin’s mouth. Eliot ran his hands over Quentin’s body, stopping and giving extra attention to all the places that Quentin responded to the most. Quentin tried to copy him, but only succeeded in roughly grabbing onto Eliot’s arm and twisting his skin uncomfortably.
"Dear God, are you a virgin?" Eliot asked, pulling away and placing Quentin's hand on his own hip.
"No! I just... I've not done this before and I'm not sure what I'm doing an-"
"Just shut up and let me drive."
"But you don't have a-"
"It's a metaphorical... you know what?" Eliot flipped Quentin on to his back and straddled him, blocking any further conversation with a kiss. “Just stop talking.”
Eliot trailed his fingers lightly over Quentin’s chest, causing him to close his eyes and open his mouth soundlessly. Eliot leaned down so that his lips brushed against Quentin’s ear.
“Breathe.” He whispered, causing Quentin to inhale sharply and buck his hips into Eliot’s.
Eliot trailed his fingers down Quentin’s abdomen until he felt the tip of his member. Quentin’s breath whistled through his teeth as Eliot wrapped his fingers around his cock, rubbing his thumb in small circles of pressure over the cluster of nerves at the bottom of its head.
Eliot watched Quentin’s facial expressions and used them to gage what he needed to do. He used his mouth an hands to bring Quentin to the edge of an orgasm, and then would stop and kiss him back down until Quentin’s body was trembling beneath his.
Eliot took Quentin into his mouth, pushing forward until his lips were wrapped around the base of Quentin’s penis. He moved his head in a figure eight motion before starting in on a rhythm of intermixed long and short strokes. He could feel the muscles in Quentin’s groin tightening beneath him, and he began to move faster and suck harder.
“Oh God I’m going to-“ Quentin gasped and clutched the sheets. Eliot pushed his head down as Quentin’s hips thrust upward and he came in the back of Eliot’s throat.
Eliot swallowed and kissed his way up Quentin’s body until he made his way to his lips. He flipped them over so that Quentin was lying on top of them and continued to run his hands through Qs hair and kiss him until Quentin caught his breath.
“Now, let’s see what you learned from that.” Eliot murmured, grinding his hips against Quentin’s. The smile on Quentin’s face was the best gift Eliot had ever been given.
3, 2, 1, you get right up and I’m the one done. You never say yes, not quite no, say just enough to make me not go. You choose your words, careful voice, in the end I’m not the first choice. You say you want someone just like me, so then why am I your, why am I your, why am I your plan B? You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team.
When Eliot woke up the next morning Quentin was gone. He heard the shower in his bathroom on and, figuring that it was Quentin, rolled over and buried his head into Quentin’s pillow, breathing in the smell of his musk mixed with sex. He was almost asleep again when he felt Quentin rubbing his back. He rolled over and pulled him down to snuggle, only to find himself snuggling Margo.
“Hey Daddy. Have fun last night?” Margo purred, tracing over the scratch marks the Quentin left on the front of his chest.
“Sorry Bambi. I though you were Quentin.”
“That’s okay, you know I love some good smut before my coffee.” Margo forced her leg between his and snuggled up next to Eliot. “Now talk.”
Eliot told her about the night, leaving some details for himself. They got up to get ready to go back to Brakebills, and while Margo was doing her hair and makeup Eliot made breakfast for the three of them. He walked back to Quentin’s room to wake him up.
“I guess I better think of something to say, I’m already on my way, let’s get to the bottom of this…” Eliot trailed off singing as he opened the door to find an empty room with a perfectly made bed. “What did I miss?” He asked Margo as she walked up from his room.
“Oh, Quentin left this morning. Alice came to find him saying she needed his help or something so he went with her. I figured that I’d let you sleep. Were you just singing Hamilton?”
“Yeah.” Eliot’s heart sunk and his life was stormy again. He knew that it was too good to be true.
“Are you going to eat El?” Margo asked, walking around him and heading into the kitchen.
“No, you go ahead. I need to finish packing and putting everything back in order before we head back to the school.”
You like to make me beg, yes, you like it. You like to make me beg, you do. Say just enough to make me not go. You know, you know, you love the way I linger and you keep me wrapped right round your finger. But you say, you say just wait a little longer, and in time I could be the right one. Please, I’m the B Team
When Eliot and Margo finally returned to Brakebills all Eliot wanted to do was spend the rest of the day in his room with his flask, testing just how bottomless it was. He grabbed a few of Todd’s cakes on their way through the cottage, just glad that Quentin wasn’t anywhere to be found at the moment; he didn’t think that he would be ready to face him just yet. He was Eliot Waugh, people did not reject him or use him; that was his job.
“Eliot wait thos-“ Todd started.
“I don’t care.” Eliot headed straight upstairs, not even waiting on Margo.
He slammed his door behind him, throwing his suitcase into a corner and throwing himself dejectedly onto his bed. He screamed into his pillow before blindly grabbing his flask off the nightstand and rolling over. He sat up when here heard crinkling. Tucked under his pillows he saw the corner of a letter. He pulled it out and saw his name scrawled across the face in Quentin’s handwriting. He tore the envelope open, his heart beating so hard he worried it would fly away without him.
Eliot,
I really enjoyed last night. I can honestly say that I’ve never experienced anything like it. I just… I’m not sure what I make of it yet. I’m sorry that I keep leading you on. And I’m sorry that I left with out saying anything this morning. And I’m sorry… well I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I really hope that this doesn’t change anything between us. I still care about you so much. I hope that maybe we can have another getaway weekend soon. Maybe just the two of us next time? Or maybe Alice can come with us and it will be four of us. I’m rambling again aren’t I? Sorry.
Love,
Quentin
“Hey El, are you okay?” Margo asked, knocking on the door and causing Eliot to look up from the letter.
“I’m doing fine enough to know that everyone’s a little broken.” He said, tipping his flask and handing it out to her.
“Letter from Q?” She took a drink and handed it back, sitting on the bed next to him.
“Yeah.” Eliot laughed sadly, shaking his head. “He said he hopes that it didn’t change anything about us, where as I’m over here hoping that it changed everything.”
“Well, no one said you were the sharpest crayon in the box. Just the most colorful.”
“How are you not helping and everything I need all at the same time?” Eliot laid his head in her lap as she began playing with his hair.
“It’s just one of the many services I offer.”
“I’ve just… I’ve never fallen for anyone the way I did for Quentin. I’ve never been on the B Team. I feel like a star player whose been benched for the foreseeable future.”
“Well, when you break your neck falling it love it does throw a wrench in things.”
“Margo please.”
“You just have to let him think about it. Ibiza is coming up soon, that will help take your mind off of things.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“Aren’t I always?” Eliot rolled his eyes and grabbed the cakes off of the nightstand.
“Do you want a little cake?”
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