#a selfish angry mess of a man

[ananxiousgenz]

just finished part 24 and ngl I'm kinda disgusted with arthur right now!!! john is an inhuman fracture of an eldritch god of madness and he is behaving more human than arthur is rn!! what the fuck dude!!

[littlemisshyperfixation]

Jungkook Fic Recommendations

a - angst f - fluff s - smut

part 2

Series

Home (f s a) by @bonny-kookoo

One Shots

forget me not (a f) by @alexlwrites ⊹₊⋆ The one where everytime you get dumped you pretend that you never met the guy before to mess with their heads. To the point that if you run into them somewhere you reintroduce yourself and act like you’ve never seen each other before. Enters fuckboy Jungkook who disappears after your night together, not knowing how much he was about to regret that choice.

champagne confetti (a s) by @pennyellee ⊹₊⋆ You, a determined fashion designer, find yourself entangled in a collaboration with the irresistibly charming and egotistic heartthrob, Jeon Jungkook. Will this partnership remain strictly professional, or will he make the lines blur?

bottle up old love (a s f) by @wintaerbaer ⊹₊⋆ Jungkook may have broken up with you a year ago, but that's not going to stop him from coming to your rescue when he sees you being cornered by a creep.

cabin fever (f s a) by @jeongi ⊹₊⋆ trapped in a cabin with your ex-best friend jungkook, you’re forced to overcome the fallout between you two. 

romantic dreams (s a) by @kooktrash ⊹₊⋆ he’s always dreamt of finding his soulmate in some romantic way, bells ringing, birds chirping, maybe even a shine of light over their head. he never imagined to find them living next door to him with absolutely no clue to the extent of the growing infatuation he has toward you until it’s a little too late. hypnotized by your entire existence he finds his dreams and delusions of love to be a little too intense for anyone to bear.

Guilty Pleasures (a s) by @kookslastbutton ⊹₊⋆ Three years of being Seoul's power couple earns you nothing but a big fat divorce settlement and your face plaster on every gossip column around town. You're angry, hurt, and desperately want to move on, but worst of all? You're still in love with the man who started the whole mess, even though the most he can ever see you as is a friend. The renowned actor you've hired to be your company's new endorser seems to have a soft spot for you though. He's easy on the eyes, you'll admit, but who actually wants a divorcee like yourself? It's unrealistic really.

Better Boyfriend Than Him (a s) by @jungqkook ⊹₊⋆ jungkook makes it a mission to prove to you that he can be better than your boring boyfriend. when it comes to sex, at least.

strictly platonic (f a s) by @jeonqkooks ⊹₊⋆ Sometimes, Jungkook can be a little selfish; and sometimes, the lengths you would go to for his happiness mean relinquishing your own.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

It's a Match! || 141 x reader

[ Chapter 6 ] || [ Chapter 8 ]

Pairing: Price x gn!Reader || 141 x gn!Reader Words: 1.8K~ cw: SMUT, SMUT, SMUT. oral (m!receiving). sex (protected). Unspecified age gap. John is a little selfish. Also: the boys aren't very happy. Summary: While overcoming recent heartbreak, you decide to join Tinder in search of a rebound. Your friends advise to just Swipe Right indiscriminately... What happens when 4 soldiers from the same squad match with you? a/n: tried my best to keep the smut as gender neutral as possible!

Chapter 7: Getting Laid!!

Last night, you and John stumbled in the door of your flat with your lips pressed together.

You swore that was something only happened in romcoms, when the main character and her rival/best-friend/ex/a stranger met at the bar, got drunk, and somehow stumbled in the door and did it right on the kitchen table or whatever.

Nope.

Nope. It happened.

He had his arms wrapped around your torso, one snugly around your hip/lower waist, the other running up over your spine, with his hand sinking into your hair.

He tossed his foot back, knocking the door closed with a donkey kick as your hands struggled to untuck his stupid maroon button-up.

Instead of fumbling with the buttons, he ripped it off himself, a few of the buttons popping off and being sent flying around the room. He shrugged it off himself before guiding you over the living room sofa.

The flat was a mess, you had tried to tell him, because you weren’t expecting to bring him (or anyone, ever) back here. But that wasn’t a concern at that moment.

John fell on top of you on the couch, his hands already ripping your shirt off and throwing it somewhere it wouldn’t get in the way (you’d come to find it behind your flatscreen tv).

His fingers kneaded and caressed your torso, squeezing at your waist as his mouth slide away from yours, over your jaw, and down to your neck, biting down onto it and sucking at the skin like it was his to mark.

Your hands found the back of his white crewneck and you pulled it off, momentarily getting him tangled in it, before you tossed it on the floor. 

You barely had a moment to feast your eyes on the sight of his bare torso before he was slipping your boots off and then dragging your jeans off your legs… Like a rabid animal, primal and hungry. 

You caught glimpses of his figure as he raised your leg and peppered kisses from your ankle, wet tongue jotting out to lick up your thigh toward your underwear.

He’s strong but soft, the owner of large pecks and a warm belly, both covered in thick, dark, coarse hair, that disappear in a happy trail under his jeans.

You pull his face toward yours, locking your lips into a deep kiss again, your tongues finding each other as he holds himself up over you. Pulling away from the kiss, you looked at him. “Flip over…” You whispered.

He didn’t need to be told twice, grabbing you around the waist again and hurling you up as he shifted to sit down on the couch, thighs spread to accommodate the growing bulge in his jeans.

You knelt between his legs, nimble fingers undoing his belt and immediately tugging the dark fabric away from his thick thighs. He groaned in relief as he watched you struggle with his boots for a moment before you succeeded in getting it all off him.

His hand palmed at his hardened cock, eyelids droopy as your hands ran up his legs, feeling the hair in them, and sometimes catching the little bumps and scars of past injuries, some of them discreet, some of them obvious and particularly gnarly. Some of them could rival some of his Simon’s.

You tugged down his boxers briefs, allowing his cock to spring free. It’s uncut, long and decently thick, and his hair is neatly trimmed. The head peeks out just a bit, showing how red and angry it is, the whole length throbbing, needy for your touch.

Your eyes locked onto his, spotting that it wasn’t just his cock that was needy. He looked at you like a starved man about to have a meal. Barely restrained, his jaw clenched, fists tightened shut, the muscles on his thighs taut with anticipation.

You ran your tongue over your palm before wrapping it around his cock, hearing him hiss and throw his head back as you started stroking it. Your other hand slowly, carefully, pulled back the hood of his cock before you wrapped your lips and tongue around it, gingerly sliding it further into your mouth.

You could’ve sworn John was going to have an aneurysm. “Fuckin’ hell… That’s it…” He grunted and huffed consecutively as he tensed up a bit, bucking his hips upward to meet your mouth.

“F-Fuck… That’s it…” He grumbled under his breath as he looked down at you. John had been with plenty of people, but something about the way you looked on your knees with his cock steadily slipping down your throat, got him in a way no one else did.

“Jesus… Fuckin’... Christ…” He dipped his head back as your tongue drew circles around him before you swallowed him deeper, breathing steadily through your nose so as to not choke.

“God… Been… B-Been a while since I got… Christ-” He grunted again, one hand shooting up to grip the back of your neck as he slowly rocked his cock into your mouth, beads of precum drooling over your tongue.

“C’mere.” He demanded as he pulled you back from his cock and up to your feet. He grabbed hold of his jeans from the floor, in search of his wallet and pulled out a whole sheet of condoms which was folded neatly inside, He stuck them between his lips before he stood.

Grabbing hold of you, he walked you across your flat, making use of the sitting room lights to navigate the hall into the bedroom, and dropped you onto your bed. He tossed the condoms aside and his lips crashed into yours, lips parted so that your tongues found each other.

His hands grabbed hold of your underwear and tugged it off, sending it flying across the room while he grabbed hold of the condoms and ripped off one, rough fingers search struggling to open the foil, before he finally succeeded and slipped it on.

“You good?” He checked on you, eyes locked on yours as he slotted himself between your legs, kneeling in front of you and adjusting you to fit him. One leg wrapped around his waist, the other over the bend of his elbow to keep you spread open for him.

“Yeah.” You replied, immediately feeling him rub the leaking head of his cock against your entrance, allowing the lube of the condom to lubricate you just a bit.

It had been ages since you had last gotten laid, a miserable consequence of your ex-boyfriend, Ethan, and one of the main reasons you had broken up. Sex with him, much like your relationship, was dead and unfulfilling.

You felt John push his way inside, slotting himself in the warmth and snugness of your body as you squealed, your head falling back onto the bed. He grunted some incoherent praise, or what you assume was praise, his fingers digging into the extra fat on your legs to keep him steady enough.

He leaned over you, one closed fist on either side of your head, curling you onto yourself and allowing him easier access to thrust into you. Slow, torturously slowly, his cock stretching you and forcing you to accomodate him.

“Fuckin’ hell… So fuckin’ good…” He groaned, eyes closing and mouth falling open as he threw his hips down against yours. It was slow and considerate, but the way he huffed and grunted told you it was already too much for him.

But John was a man of focus. He uncurled his fists in order to grip your bed covers and squeeze them tight as his hips bounced off yours, his weeping girth always burying itself to the hilt before he pulled back again, making sure to bottom out every time.

You whimpered and moaned, eyes screwed closed and a shiver running down your spine every time the bouncy cock plunged into you, the upward tilt of it making sure to drag dangerously slowly across the one spot in your body that caused your mind to go blank, stars prickling in the corners of your eyes.

“F-Fuck… John…” You sighed as he kept the torturously slow pace, somehow driving you crazy just as much as he would while pounding you into oblivion.

“Yeah… that’s it. Moan my name, love.” He ordered as he leaned closer.

“J-John…” You cried out softly as his hips stuttered lightly, causing him to bury himself deep twice in a row.

“I know, darling. I know.” He grumbled. “You haven’t gotten properly shagged in a while, have you?” He taunted a bit. “Haven’t either, sweet thing…” He added.

His hands grabbed your jaw on either side, his thumbs hooked onto your cheeks, the remaining fingers slipping under and around your ears, nails digging lightly into your scalp.

“I’ll make sure to make it last as long as possible, hm?” He added as he kissed at your lips, sucking your bottom lip between his lightly.

-

John was in a much better mood when he sat down for breakfast at the mess hall with Ghost, Gaz and Soap. He actually greeted them with a ‘Good morning’, his tray was piled high with food and his hair was wet from a recent shower.

The other three were looking at him with raised brows and intrigued glances, even if Ghost was trying to be discreet about them. They could read between the lines to know he had gotten lucky with you the night before, so they didn’t need to ask questions they knew the answers to.

Instead, they exchanged glances and kept eating their breakfasts… All except for Simon, who was simply drinkin a cup of breakfast tea.

“I don’t think it’s fair.” Soap ended up saying as Price was halfway through shoveling a hash brown into his mouth.

“What isn’t, Soap?” Price asked, eyes narrowed in confusion, and brows scrunched.

“We all matched ‘em on Tinder and didn’t get more than a ‘I’ll think about meetin’ up with you’.” The younger sergeant explained halfway through chewing his bite of sausage. “You meet with ‘em, get a shag… And we did all the work for it.” He added. “But when it comes to us ourselves, they don’t want us.” He complained.

“What are we gonna do?” Gaz complained. “Maybe they just like older men…” He said with a shrug. “Sucks but there’s other people out there.” He adds while drinking his orange juice.

“Are you seriously going to call dibs on the fact you saw ‘em before Price?” Ghost said in surprise.

“I’m just saying!” Soap grunted and shoveled some more scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“Learn to take rejection with class, MacTavish. It’s going to happen to you more and more often as you get older.” Ghost quipped.

“Awa' an' bile yer heid!” Soap scoffed and flipped the middle finger at Ghost.

Meanwhile, the Captain was giving them all a look, while staying silent, seeming amused by their antics and a little by their jealousy. He could tell that despite the fact Gaz and Ghost had disagreed with Soap, their eyebrows were also furrowed in contemplation.

So, he simply turned off to the side and drank from his own tea with a smug smirk on his lips.

taglist: @daisychainsinknots , @bunnysdaydreams , @iite-cool , @lahniu , @pagesfalling , @tapioca-milktea1978 , @live-love-be-unique , @thelaisydazy , @littleghosthunter , @bossva , @emotion-no-hot-yes-hotel-trivago , @chamomiletealeaf , @ghosts-hoe , @kariiiel , @ltbarnes , @irregulardongyoung , @spacelia , @hayleybarnesx , @infpt-zylith , @xxshadowbabexx , @frescoisnotinthemilitary , @leeeenistop , @lucienbarkbark , @zombie-freak , @wittleespur , @agoodmoviekiss , @l0lziez , @whos-fran , @greatstormcat , @openup-yourmind , @neoarchipelago

[mimisplayground]

Sunday was an awful, awful angel. He was cruel, uncaring, and he had a stupid smile on his face all the time. Like he thought he was better. Like he KNEW he was better.

And watching the people around you begin to whisper awful things about you. About how Sunday had told them you were a wicked, mean person. You couldn’t help but feel a sinking feeling of despair. How were you meant to face this? He was a public figure, one of absolute authority and power that you could never hope to speak against.

So you go to him with tears in your eyes, asking how you could have ever possibly made him view you as so awful and wicked. “You’re undignified, unruly, quite honestly a bit airy in the head, and mouthy. Is that enough reason?” He smiles at you the entire time, tilting his head at the end of the question while watching fat tears roll down your cheeks.

“How do I… fix that…” you mutter through hiccups and sniffles, almost crying more when he coos at you and gives you a hug. Petting your hair as you went to full blown sobs. “It’s ok, just listen to what I tell you to do. I’ll always guide you properly. It’s not your fault you’re so stupid.”

He had sent you on your way, and the rumors and awfulness of those around you only got worse. You went from lazy to attention whore in their eyes. Clinging to Sunday and every word he speaks like gospel. Without so much as an approving glance your way.

You would cry awfully, not able to talk to those around you and not wanting to confront the man who had deemed you as a vile person again.

And you grew angry, though with that the talk got nastier. How awful you were. Being called for an audience with Sunday only for him to berate you for twenty minutes until you were a sniveling mess again was just awful.

In fact, the talk only seemed to vanish when you clung impossibly close to the man. In his quarters everyday, bringing him teas and snacks and not bothering to pay attention to the others.

It was easier that way. When you paid attention to the others you always found them saying awful things about you. When you were with Sunday it was like none of those rumors existed. And so you were like a personal assistant, telling people when he wanted an audience with them, bringing him foods and drinks, organizing things for him, anything he asked.

It wasnt hard to fall into the routine either. He was such a kind guy, he only ever told you when you did something wrong afterall. Your posture, your manners, your tone, what you were wearing, things like that. And you would always change it to fit how he said you were best. Because clearly he knew best.

He was handsome too, easy to look at. So of course it wasn’t long until you fell into his bed.

Sunday was a selfish lover. He would make sure you finished of course. But everything he did was with his own entertainment at mind.

Leaving you overstimulated and limp by the end of most nights. But he kissed you so sweetly afterwards, wiping you down and cuddling up to you. The next morning you would be pawing at him again, begging for more once again.

You were selfish in your own ways too. Sunday never seemed to mind when you were sat next to him, gripping his arm and glaring at whoever had come around to talk to him. How you would refuse to talk to them and bury yourself further into the man as he would laugh and apologize for your behavior with a dismissive attitude.

You don’t even really know when you began living with him.

Somewhere between his hand stuffing your face into some pillows as he calls you a mangy stupid mutt and the times where he thrusts into you slow and sensual while saying it was fine that you were stupid, because you were his.

Because you are his. No one else could ever fuck you the way he does. With a calm smile and a feral look in his eyes, pounding into you and rubbing your nipples. Sucking your neck and biting his claim all over you. And you babble insistently about how amazing he is. How perfect he is, how much you adore him as you pet his hair back and out of his face while he pounds you into a mating press.

He calls you a stupid little doll. A pretty pet. A cute accessory. Leaves you fucked out and drooling and laughs, making a comment about how he didn’t know you could get any dumber.

But it’s ok that you’re dumb. Because you’re his.

Forever and always.

——————

AN ACTUAL FULL FLESHED FIC??? FROM ME??? WOAH….

also hes TOXIC pls do NOT idolize him… anyways hes my idol :3 hope you all enjoyed lemme know what u want nexf!!

[artytaeh]

for those who read a little of my panicking about how huge the original lorenzo berkshire headcanons post was— here it is: random hcs + lorenzo as your boyfriend.

this man is so carmen - lana del rey coded. i can't say if i love lorenzo berkshire or not, help.

(l.b.) RANDOM HEADCANONS :

⭑ a big fan of herbology. to avoid some stupid comments, lorenzo insists that it's out of fascination for dangerous plants, like the devil's snare (enzo thinks that they're disgusting); in reality, lorenzo really likes to see different flora, being knowledgeable of the romantic language of flowers. one of his favorite plants are the ones meant to be pleasant and pretty.

⭑ so petty. if lorenzo has some nemesis or a rivalry, he would be try to mess up the guy's relationship, by convincing his girlfriend to cheat with enzo. prefers to punch someone emotionally rather than a physical scar.

⭑ if he has a rival that happens to be a girl, well, lorenzo finds it somewhat attractive to banter with someone. might be a one-sided rivalry, since the girl might genuinely mean those comments, while lorenzo is trying to flirt with her and get an angry make out session.

⭑ the biggest gossiper around school. as i've said before, lorenzo knows all versions of the story; might be the type of person who's a friend to all, friend to none (the slytherin boys are an exception). if you want to know something, you'll go to lorenzo berkshire. if he doesn't know, he'll know by the end of the afternoon.

⭑ became a prefect during his sixth year, because he hated umbridge with a burning passion— even though he put on a polite smile to keep himself away from umbridge's radar. even though he was offered the position of prefect at fifth year, and even had some slytherins trying to convince him to accept, lorenzo only took that place as soon as umbridge was gone.

⭑ the biggest fred and george weasley's fan. always had an eye out to testify their pranks, and gave side-eyes to draco whenever he was rude to the twins. their biggest defender, and a bit embarrassing whenever he tried to speak to those 'gryffindor legends', as he calls them.

⭑ became more of a fanboy during his fifth year, and didn't shut up about the twins until the end of the year, praising them for the chaos they created before running away from hogwarts. lorenzo is telling this story to his kids, i promise you that.

⭑ would genuinely try to become friends with his friends' girlfriends— if theodore brought his girlfriend to hang out with their group, lorenzo (and blaise) would be the first one to welcome her into the group. he sympathizes that new groups can be scary.

⭑ attends to every party, nevermind the house hosting it; as a slytherin he'll always claim that the snakes throw the best ones, even though he really likes hufflepuff's ambience. lorenzo stopped going to gryffindor parties as soon as the weasley twins left hogwarts; lorenzo tolerates any kind of music, but fuck, gryffindor makes his ears bleed out.

⭑ isn't that competitive with quidditch matches; if anything, lorenzo is the wise voice that keeps mattheo from hitting his bat straight to another player's skull. instead of being furious that slytherin lost, lorenzo has the tendency to blame himself.

⭑ could and would enter a fight if necessary. one of lorenzo's reasons to swallow his temper (in front of everyone, at least) is to keep his reputation; the other one is to keep his handsome face intact of cuts and bruises.

⭑ frequently excuses his worst actions by convincing himself that he'll change for the better, as soon as he meets the one. lorenzo would never hurt someone that badly — (maybe he's just as selfish as his mother, bellatrix lestrange, inheriting her tendency to abandon everything to pursue her own happiness. as soon as they she feels fulfilled, who cares if others get hurt?) — right? all of his bad habits, all of the things he's done; it will all be gone as soon as he's with her.

and since we're mentioning the one, lorenzo grows anxious in relationships; he contemplates whether this girl is his true match, and becomes paranoid that he's wasting his time on her, instead of the girl meant for him. to decide, lorenzo usually does a list of pros and cons about this recent fling— he'll decide to give it a week or longer than that, after considering what he wrote.

⭑ criminally pretty. the slytherin boys made a scientific study about this infuriating talent of berkshire's heir: managing to look good in any. possible. photo. no matter if lorenzo tries to look silly— he ends up looking good. so unbothered if people take photos of him or keep silly ones; enzo knows that he looks good.

⭑ 'liquid smooth - mitski' vibes. lorenzo was born to be pretty— if he's no longer pretty, if he's not stunning, or not feeling like himself that day, he will have a breakdown and throw some things around the room. for all his masks, lorenzo wonders if the only genuinely good thing about him is his appearance— if he loses it too, what will be of him, with nothing else to love about lorenzo berkshire?

⭑ so unlucky with animals— care of magical creatures isn't the best subject for him, since they seem to smell lorenzo's bullshit miles away. there was this one ravenclaw's cat that almost clawed at his cheek, when he tried to kiss his owner... well. as much as lorenzo tries to win them over, cats give him a specially hard time.

⭑ that being said, lorenzo only has an owl as a pet, specifically to be able to send letters. even so, lorenzo makes sure that she (he named her artemis) is well groomed and taken care of. he always has treats for artemis back on his dorm room, to reward her hard work.

⭑ one of his hobbies is exploring muggle london, and other cities mainly occupied by muggles. lorenzo genuinely believes that the wizardy world is much more interesting, however, he likes to experience muggleborn's life as well— lorenzo is genuinely interested on their method of living.

⭑ his favorite places at hogsmeade are honeyduke's and zonko's; there is yet to be a hogsmeade trip where lorenzo doesn't bring some honeyduke's treats with him— he usually brings extra for his friends, if he notices that one of them is having a hard time.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

(n.) L. BERSKHIRE : as your boyfriend :

this man has experience and a big heart that wants to love, fueled by his (sometimes, extreme) expectations of falling in love.

gives gifts 'just because'; the berkshire family is wealthy, and lorenzo genuinely never had to look at a price tag before; he'll do it even less for the sake of your smile.

however, lorenzo finds more value in handmade gifts, perceiving them as having more emotional value and effort, than something bought at a store. in random days, he'll gift you something that reminded him of you— in special dates, like month anniversaries or your birthday, lorenzo will work on handmade gifts.

some examples are: love letters, bracelets that he got younger years teaching him how to make, photo albums of the two of you, etc.

would have matching plushies with you, though. lorenzo would try to find little outfits for them, specially wedding themed ones; if you happen to be upset with lorenzo, he'll take his plushie to your dorm, and put the two of them on top of your bed, ''kissing.''

not the type of guy that would yell and start a brawl, should someone flirt with you in front of him. lorenzo will open a smile, and say: 'i know, right? my girl is so attractive.' in a way that might leave the other guy embarrassed.

... the thing is, as soon as you're back to your dorm room, and lorenzo catches him alone— mysteriously, it seems like he was a bit unlucky. infirmary wing, unable to go to classes? lorenzo wonders what happened to him. specially because the guy wouldn't be an idiot to land lorenzo in detention, much less try his luck with you.

loud lover that feels no shame about his relationship with you. lorenzo is a romantic person, treating you how he seeks to receive the same treatment from you: he wants you to be a proud girlfriend, the same way he is, showing off his beloved, letting the whole school (and even scotland) know that you're his.

is very attentive about dates. lorenzo knows that life as student of hogwarts is never uneventful, and that your responsibilities grow with age. even so, lorenzo makes sure that you two have a full-on date, with dressing up + planned out activity, at least three times per month. it's a sacred rule to him, that allows your relationship to remain romantic and interesting for both of you.

some of the petnames that i see lorenzo using for his loved one are: sunshine, sweetheart, angel, pretty girl. only ever uses your name when it's a serious conversation or an argument.

heavy gossiper. so mean about it too— would laugh at other people's unfortunes then make a serious face and nod as soon as you reprimand him. he's still laughing inside. as soon as he gets new source of gossip, lorenzo is running to find you.

study dates don't work with the two of you. if he gets a glimpse of you, lorenzo gives up on reading whatever annotations to look at you with heart eyes.

if there's someone you don't like, lorenzo will probably find some bad stuff about that person— just in case, you know? if there's ever an argument between you and them, you already have ammunition to strike them with! lowkey loves badmouthing other people with you. it's his favorite thing to do.

has so many friends that are girls, however, doesn't give them any chance; lorenzo is aware of his reputation and that his many flings might leave you insecure. would genuinely distance himself from a girl for the sake of your relationship with him, or change his behavior near her.

gets nervous when you watch his quidditch practices; lorenzo finds it harder to focus on defending quaffles, knowing that you're there to watch him. will ask you what you thought about the practice— discreetly fishes for some praises here and there.

whenever there are slytherin matches that he plays as a keeper, lorenzo and you will match outfits; it doesn't matter if you're not a slytherin, you will wear slytherin's colors on that day, with lorenzo's jumper on your body and his surname, berkshire, written on your back.

speaking of matching outfits: loves to match with you, or at least wear the same palettes, at least whenever the two of you go for a date together. it's a simple yet cute way to show that hey! we're together! and a happy fashionable couple!

a really good person to go shopping with. not only does he cover any cost without looking at the price tag (lorenzo doesn't want you to spend your own money, since there's no reason to) but he's really good at giving opinions. as i said before, this man dresses so well, so he has a good sense of fashion and an instinct over what works, and doesn't work. what colors favor you, and others that don't you justice.

if you're cold, and it happens to be a chilly weather outside, instead of giving you his warm clothes for the rest of the date, lorenzo will temporarily give you his coat and seek for any clothing store to buy you something warm.

l : sunshine, are you cold? come on, let's buy you a pretty coat. warmer, preferably.

🗯️ : can i choose a scarf for you?

l : of course, sweetheart. let's see if we can find a scarf that matches this new coat of yours.

this becomes a fun game; if one of you buys something, then you'll get something matching for the other. not only does it had to your collection of couple-matching-clothes, but also feeds his large wardrobe. dating lorenzo berkshire comes with extra luggage to pack new clothes, i promise you.

so patient when you're getting ready. lorenzo doesn't mind waiting longer until you're satisfied with your outfit— he knows the struggle, believe me. will help you and give you some opinions (if, and only if you ask.), not wanting you to stress over not feeling pretty enough. even if you had specific hours to leave the castle, enzo knows that any reservation can be postponed, so there's no stress on his part.

passive-aggressive. you know the term, right? unfortunately this is how conflict starts on your relationship; something deeply bothers lorenzo, he gatekeeps it to had some bitterness to his heart, then verbalizes that something is wrong by an unrelated comment.

has a hard time understanding when he's in the wrong, even though he will gladly apologize first to be in good terms with you — even if lorenzo isn't truly apologetic. he priorizes a good ambience in your relationship, than having the world knowing that he won a stupid argument.

kisses you silly. this man is so affectionate; sometimes you're just talking about whatever, and lorenzo will dissociate as he looks at you, cupping your face before peppering many kisses to you cheeks, nose, jaw, chin, lips— anywhere.

lorenzo prefers slow kisses, enjoying the moment without a rush, teasing you by giving you some glances and breaking off the kiss to smile, before tempting your lower lip. couldn't care less if it's in the middle of a hallway, or behind a tree in the courtyard— let people see that you're two teenagers in love!

speaking of physical contact: lorenzo is a bit picky over who touches his hair (he spends a stupid amount of time to make sure that it looks pretty), but loves it when you fix his hair for him. doesn't mind it if you twirl his hair between your fingers, he thinks that's sweet.

loves to hold hands, yet you'll find him walking around with his arm around your shoulders more frequently. also likes to have you sat on his lap, rests his chin on your shoulder and will have you there, even when he's spending time / chatting with his slytherin friends.

if someone's hostile with you, you have five counted seconds to defend yourself before lorenzo jumps to your defense. did someone point out an insecurity of yours? lorenzo is making a nonstop list of things that that person should be insecure about. won't apologize either— they're the one who started!

loves cliches. if you don't know how to dance, lorenzo will teach you during some sleepover to his dorm; helps you learn the steps by having your feet on top of his own, arm around your waist, hand caressing yours as you two giggle and tease each other for your clumsy first try.

would be so pouty and even pushy, if you don't feel like going to parties with him. lorenzo adores going to those— genuinely because he has fun, nevermind how chaotic it can get. besides, he wants to brag about his girlfriend! :( might suggest that you're embarrassed of him, and that is the reason why you'd rather stay in your dorm. (dramatic much, berkshire?)

walks you to classes, only failing to do so if he has classes with professors like snape, on the other end of the castle. this man is punctual, leaving slytherin's dorms early to walk you to the great hall, having breakfast together without a hurry, then walking to class while holding hands. genuinely gets better scores in assignments of classes that you don't have together— he gets distracted if you're there!

now that we're mentioning cliches, there was this one time in october, that you decided to spend the afternoon in the library to study, since it was raining outside. lorenzo came to your side, closed your books and gently took them from your grasp— then, he tugged you to follow him, lifting you by the waist to get the two of you under the rain.

lorenzo spins you on his arms; now that both are soaked with the cold rain, he makes a curtsy, asking you to dance, 'would you conceed me the honor of dancing with you, my lady?' only to kiss your hand, before tugging you closer to him, being that sickeningly sweet couple that brings jealousy to others.

not to your surprise, some other pairs did join you in the courtyard, dancing and jumping over the wet floor.

to mcgonagall's disapproval, she had way too many students skipping next day's classes for being sick.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

౨ৎ the boys, the girls, they all like ▉, he laughs ♡ ͡

like god, his mind's like a diamond, he's still shining . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— lorenzo berkshire is a topic that has been on my drafts during these last days. general headcanons of lorenzo were supposed to be posted first, but i'm still working on them </3 so i plan to post it tomorrow. 🗯️ tysm for reading. ♡

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[0asisbliss]

what’s your opinion on phantom troupe getting reader high/drunk but instead of making them giddy/disoriented they go the opposite direction and start venting about people only wanting for for selfish reasons (sex, money, protection) and are just unconsolable, sobbing mess ♥️

A/N: Sorry for such a late response.🤍 Sorry for spelling errors.

Uvogin:

•Uvogin stole a bunch of your favorite wines for you two to enjoy on a late night

•He wants you to enjoy yourself

•He thinks your always up tight so when your the opposite of giddy, and energized his mood is totally busted.

•When you finally show him your breaking point somewhere in Uvogin’s heart it breaks

•You tell him about how much you hated being alone in a society like this

•All of the disgusting things people do that you witness makes you want to throw up and evermore cry.

•This makes Uvogin sympathetic, and almost angry.

•There has to be someone making you feel this way, and he’s going to find that person.

Chrollo:

•Comforting

•He sits there and holds you close to him wanting to give you what the world refuses to obviously

•Gives you small kisses on your forehead

•When you give him you reasoning for feeling this way he gives his input and tries to understand you the best way he can

•Though he steals, and kills just like the people your describing he can’t help, but understand where your coming from he gets it.

•Chrollo honestly never likes seeing you cry it hurts a certain part of him that cares about you

•Kinda like Uvogin he might have a motive to find whatever is making you feel this way

Shalnark:

•Tries to get you drunk so you could tell him more about yourself

•The moment he senses your sadness he bring you to his chest a lays kisses all over your face.

•I headcannon Shalnark as a fucking sweetheart he hates seeing you cry

•Mumbles little why do you feel this way? And. It’s okay’s. While rubbing slow circles on your back.

• “Is there someone making you feel this way? Y’know you can tell me.”

•Feels as if you shouldn’t feel like this because your the exact opposite of what your explaining.

•Physical affection on TOP

Feitan:

•Got you high trying to get you to loosen a bit more up around him

•Is kinda awkward since that’s basically what he does to some people

•Even though the thought never passed his mind to treat you that he feels shitty

•Tries his best to cheer you up

•After your done he asks if you want to keep talking about it or change subjects

Pakunoda:

•Understanding

•Caresses your hair

•Coos you, and tries to understand why you feel this way and want you to open up more about yourself.

•Wants you to stay over her place tonight

•Feels better when you stop crying

Phinks:

•Please go easy on this man

•As soon as you start crying he panics not knowing what to do

•When you explain to him your reasoning he looks down knowing he does some of those things to people

•How would you react if you found out what he does

•You’re his sweetheart. He doesn’t want you to be upset.

•He’ll always do everything in his power to make you happy.

[soap-ify]

nsfw below , mdni.

YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader.

02 — you believe me like a god, i destroy you like i am.

chapter summary — after chaos broke out during your work, simon attempts to comfort you in his own way.

tags / cw — angst, reader almost has a panic attack, reactions from bad anxiety, reader is yelled at, verbal assault, violence (simon beats someone up), tending to wounds i don't know how that thing works, just reader and simon being awkward, simon is very self aware, smut 18+, outercourse, grinding through clothes, p in v. [3.8k words]

☆ reader written with afab anatomy but gender neutral terms.

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

If you had the choice to disappear into the void, you would.

The cafe was quite crowded, which was a good thing for the place but not so welcoming for you. The customers kept on rushing in, rambling out orders while you hastily gave them their stuff while trying your best to not mess anything up. You knew the others were working just as much as you, and you didn’t want to seem selfish by thinking that you were having it the worst out there.

Though your brain truly was horribly overwhelmed with the amount of faces in this small cafe. The heat made your head throb, causing you to rub your hands over your face and take a few deep breaths, afraid that you’d break down in front of everyone, feeling your palms getting clammy. It was so hard to keep your voice controlled and polite while talking to the others, making sure that it didn’t crack.

You despised busy days.

Simon was sitting alone at the far edge seat inside the cafe, a cup of bitter black coffee on the table while his brown eyes blankly stared at you, observing your struggles that you seemingly masked quite well in front of others, but well, not for him.

The rest of the taskforce wasn’t here today since it wasn’t a weekend, and normally Simon himself would have never willingly come over at a crowded place like this. But he was feeling too restless in his apartment. Maybe he just needed fresh air. His mind kept on making dumb excuses, even though he was fully aware that he just wished to see you.

Plus it was always somewhat comforting knowing that he would keep you safe.

You were aware of him, aware of his eyes on you and words couldn’t describe how grateful you were. It was as if his familiar presence was the only thing keeping you sane during this shift, knowing that once this was over, you could talk to him if he’d let you.

You had just given the person standing in the front of the queue their coffee, watching them leave before the other person came at the front — some guy who was probably around your age, looking at you with a wolfish grin plastered on his lips that sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“What would you like, sir?” You asked politely, fumbling with the fabric of your apron behind the counter, thankfully hidden from everyone’s sight. Inhale, exhale.

“A large cup of espresso, sugar.” That man replied, the pet name causing you to internally grimace. Fucking disgusting.

You silently nodded and went back to go over to the coffee machine, only to find out that one of the ingredients had run out. Today truly was your unlucky day.

A wave of panic shot over you as you walked over to the counter once more, facing that man. “I-I am sorry, sir… It seems like the espresso can’t be made due to the shortage of some stuff…” You were unable to hold in the little stammer in your words this time, your breath hitching at the way some anger began making its way over to that man’s face, his mood taking a huge swing. Volatile.

It scared, no, terrified you to see someone angry over something you said. It reminded you of your own parents, reminded you of things you no longer had wished to recall at this point.

“Fuck you mean shortage? What kind of cafe is this?!” The man snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at you, his seething rage causing you to freeze on your spot. Fuck, everyone was looking. You hated this — hated the way you flinched at his loud voice, hated the way everyone was staring at you, silence taking over the cafe before soft murmurs could be heard here and there. Gossiping about this.

As if this was just a joke to them, as if all of this was normal.

“I-I understand your anger, sir… But—” Your words were cut off by his impatient slam on the counter. Your eyes widened and everything for a second seemed too silent, too unbearable. Don’t panic, don’t panic…

“You useless slag. Why don’t you just quit this job and—”

“Fucking get off her, you bastard.” A large hand grabbed the strange man’s collar and shoved him out of your sight, snapping you out of your thoughts.

Simon. You had almost forgotten that he was here too. Another wave of humiliation and helplessness hit you as you just stood there, feeling like a weak idiot.

You didn’t even have to speak, not that you were going to, before Simon pulled the man back up on his feet. “You. Come with me.” He growled and dragged the man out of the cafe, leaving behind an unsettling thick layer of silence caused by the commotion. Over a fucking coffee.

Everyone saw it. Everyone saw you getting yelled at. Everyone saw you being fucking useless.

You soon realised that tears had begun blurring your vision, causing you to hastily undo your apron and scurry off into the staff room.

Simon had that horrendous man thrown into an eerily quiet alley with no one in sight except them both.

“Who do you think you’re messing with?” He growled under his breath, fingers curled up into fists, knuckles a bit bruised and bleeding after having repeatedly punched the man on his face, resulting in a broken nose and some broken teeth. Honestly deserved worse.

Simon didn’t know why he was so angry. He just hated seeing you already on the edge before this man just came in and messed everything up. How dare he yell at you? Scumbag. Simon wanted to spit at him and throw him in the bin like the fucking garbage he was, but he knew that someone could always walk by even in an isolated alley like this and he definitely didn’t want unnecessary attention.

Adrenaline was coursing through Simon’s veins and he could hear the blood rushing into his ears. He looked scary above the man, brown eyes wide and deadly. The fact that his face was covered in that balaclava made him look all the more inhuman.

Thank goodness you weren’t here to witness this.

In Simon’s mind, this was who he really was. Roughened up and turned into this rageful mess after years of brutal training and even worse missions. Trained like a fucking dog. Maybe that was what he was. A dog. Not a human, just a pathetic dirty thing who only knew the worst, who only knew the wrongs.

He was his own poison, killing himself on his own.

With one last kick on the stomach, Simon left the man to weep alone in the alley. He didn’t have to deal with someone like that anymore, all he could think was of you and how you probably were feeling right now.

Your manager had luckily let you end your shift early today, albeit still having scolded you for creating such a ruckus inside the cafe. For ruining a nice busy day. It made your throat tighten, making you feel as if everyone was blaming you for this. Maybe it really was your fault.

You silently stood outside the cafe, staring down at your hands that were clasped together, your fingers visibly trembling. You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths in an attempt to clear the fog in your head. Your moment of silence was broken by the familiar sound of soft footsteps nearing you.

Yes, you had memorised his footsteps. You knew everyone’s, actually. And his were your favourite — oddly soft and quiet, juxtaposing to what you initially expected from someone of his size. He was probably very skilled in sneaking up behind the people.

Simon silently stood besides you, not uttering a word. For a whole minute, it was just silence between you, your eyes nervously darting around before landing on his hands that were uncharacteristically not covered in his usual gloves that he wore all the time except for when you both were all alone.

And that’s when you noticed it, his bleeding knuckles.

“Simon…” You breathed out in panic, voice laced with concern as your eyes repeatedly shot back and forth between his face and his hands. What the fuck happened?

“Didn’t want my gloves getting dirty.” He mused gruffly, his eyes slowly looked down at you, causing you to knit your brows even more.

“He’s not gonna bother you again, love. No one is.” He finally mumbled after a few seconds, one hand of his reaching out to gently ruffle your hair. He really wasn’t bothered by the mild cuts on his knuckles. In fact, he really didn’t care. He wasn’t even thinking of bandaging it.

“Let’s go to my place.” You urged him, lips a bit pouty while worry was etched over your face.

He couldn’t help but find you adorable.

Once you both reached your apartment, you were quick to push him onto the couch and hastily grab a first aid kit, scurrying over to sit beside him on the couch.

“Show me your hands.” You mumbled softly, causing him to reluctantly let your gentle hands hold his callused, larger hands. What a contrast. He felt guilty for making you hold such a dirty, damaged thing.

You were quick to clean up his hands, carefully touching the cuts with the cotton pads. You didn’t even want to imagine what Simon was capable of. Your eyes scanned his hands carefully, admiring every scar on his skin.

You never really thought much of it. Sure you knew that he was in the military, always doing some sort of highly dangerous work. But you never really saw that side of his — scary one. So it was fairly easy to forget his real strength until moments like these came to remind you. Though you never really disliked him for it.

You don’t think you could ever dislike him. He was just… everything.

Ever since you both have come to your place, all you could think about was how he stood up for you. You didn’t like pity, but the fact that someone cared, especially if that someone was Simon, made you feel all the more warmer aside.

He did care for you, right? Were you too fond of him? Too in awe of him?

You dabbed some antiseptic on the cuts before applying some cute panda bandaids on his knuckles. He stared at them questionably, brows furrowed though an amused scoff soon escaped his lips behind the mask. “You don’t own normal bandaids?”

“These are normal!” You grumbled, blood rushing to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Just kiddin’... They are cute like you.”

You got up to put the kit away and wash your hands before coming back to sit besides him, pulling your knees to your chest, silence filling the room up once more.

Simon could see how you were still shaken up, the frown etched on your face accentuating the storm of thoughts raging inside your head. It made his heart ache, though he didn’t move a muscle at all, silently staring at you from the corner of his.

He didn’t know how to comfort you at all.

All he knew was how to handle guns and beat up people. All he knew was how to ignite a sense of terror within people.

Simon didn’t want to think of himself as a monster, the word alone making him think of no one other than his father. He wasn’t that man, he wasn’t.

He sighed behind his balaclava after a while and shuffled a bit closer to you on the couch, his arm brushing against yours.

Your body tensed up for a second, and he was just about to back away once he sensed it before you eventually relaxed and leaned into him, a trembling sigh escaping your lips. He was warm, and you couldn’t help but think of him as a blanket that was shielding you from the world. A protector. Though he really wasn’t that, right? What even was he to you?

You didn’t want to think of that right now, not when your brain was already so exhausted after everything that happened today, the little bit of confidence you had already shattered.

Simon’s hand slowly snaked behind your back, drawing lazy discreet circles on your waist through the fabric of your shirt. You could make out some of them — a circle, then a star, then some random incomprehensible shape that he probably just made up on the spot and then a star again. This act of his made you smile a bit, your eyes fluttering up to look at him, only to find him looking back at you.

You had caught him staring at you multiple times before, but this moment felt so different — more cozy and intimate. It made your heart skip a beat, your brain feeling all foggy due to the sudden wave of happiness shooting within you.

Simon probably noticed the change in the air too since his hand was quick to pull back and settle on his lap, fingers drumming on his thigh, pretending as if nothing happened. It left you confused, disappointed even, but more so at yourself then at him. Why were you making every little interaction with him such a big deal? He didn’t like you the way you liked him.

Simon was silent for a while, multiple thoughts going on within his head. His large hand slowly drifted towards you once more, this time towards your thigh, fingers absent-mindedly caressing you. Well, he could comfort you in the way he knew of.

Your body was quick to react to his touch, your breath hitching while you were simultaneously a bit embarrassed of how you were so used to his touch, used to the way his caresses would make you squirm. You could already pick up on his intention behind this, to somehow get your mind off whatever happened in your job today.

“C’mere, love…”

His callused hands pulled you onto his lips with ease, holding onto your hips, your face facing his, eyes meeting. You swear you could feel the world slowing down every time your eyes would meet his, his stare alone coaxing you to lean into him, your head nuzzling into the crook of his neck while your fingers curled up into the fabric of the large grey hoodie he was wearing.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise.” His gruff voice came out as a whisper, making your heart swell yet ache at the same time. Yes, please take care of me, these words repeated over and over in your head while you sheepishly nodded against his neck.

His hands were quick to work, not letting you do a single thing, lifting your hips up gently as he slid down your pants, carefully removing them all the way down, letting it drop to the ground. Your hands reached down in attempted to undo his pants, though he just lightly smacked your hands away and shook his head, huffing softly as he unbuckled the belt and unzipped his pants on his own, tugging them alongside his boxers just a bit so his cock was free from the restraints, already semi-hard.

Your mouth watered at the familiar sight that always made you all heated up and blustered, blood rushing to your cheeks while your eyes stared down at his cock, admiring the veins that adorned it. It was just perfect — girthy and uncut.

“Simon…” A meek whine left your lips while your eyes literally pleaded him to do something, anything to just somehow make your mind empty, to let you forget about everything, to let you pretend that everything was fine. Pretend that you were with him.

His cock twitched at the noise you made, one hand of his tight gripping your hip in position while his other hand gently grabbed the base of his cock, beginning to rub the head against your clothed cunt, watching the way a wet patch was forming on your panties.

“D-Don’t tease me like this!” You grumbled, nibbling on your bottom lip as you felt the swollen head of his now hardened up cock bumping against your clothed clit, making your hips bucking towards him, desperate for more.

“Don’t nibble your lip like that, love. You’re gonna bruise it.” He breathed out, his eyes falling onto your lips that looked so kissable, making him clench his jaw behind that balaclava of his. No, he couldn’t kiss you.

He continued to play with you like this, rubbing and smearing his precum on your panties, continuing to grind against your clothed cunt, ruining this pair of panties. You mentally noted that you should buy some new ones this weekend.

It wasn’t until a few moments later that you started to feel the familiar tight knots building in your abdomen, a soft whimper leaving your lips while your fingers tightened around the fabric of his hoodie, desperately grinding back against his clock. “P-Please, please, Si… So close, pl—”

He stopped, gently pushing you slightly backwards on his lap so his cock was no longer touching you. A frustrated sob left your lips as you glared at him in confusion, eyes all glossy and he couldn’t help but grin behind his mask, noticing how adorable you looked like this. He already knew that he had successfully distracted you from your thoughts. He knew this wasn’t the ideal way. Hell, he should have actually cuddled with you and shared some comforting words. But fuck, he can’t. He shouldn’t. He is already being selfish enough with this whole thing you two have going on, and he definitely doesn’t want to risk progressing into something more.

He was a fucking asshole, he knew it. He knew of how he didn’t deserve you, and you definitely didn’t deserve a broken, fucked up in the head man like him. You deserved better.

But you two were already so far into this, weren’t you?

“Ssh, don’t worry. Gonna make you cum properly.” He assured you, gently pulling you into him once more, his fingers pushing your panties aside and giving your throbbing clit a few sweet rubs before positioning the head of his twitching cock in front of your entrance, looking at you while you were looking down at the spot your bodies were about to be connected at, literally swooning.

“Please…” You pleaded, feeling his cock gently smear your slick all over your folds before beginning to gently push into your tightness, a quiet grunt leaving his lips at the way you clenched around you, still struggling to fully get used to the way his girth would stretch you out. Your head fell onto his shoulder, panting softly as you tried to relax, feeling him slide into you slowly, inch by inch until he was fully snug inside your tight cunt, the cloth of your panties gently grazing against the side of his shaft.

“Takin’ me so well, aren’t ya? Always do. That pretty cunt of yours is so perfect.” He praised hoarsely into your ears, his affectionate words driving you over the edge, feeling him begin to lazily fuck his cock in and out of your fluttering cunt, hitting the spongy spots inside you with ease, as if having them all memorised within his head. Shaky moans would leave your lips at the blissful feeling, eyes rolling back into your head once you felt the head of his cock slam against your cervix, him making sure that it wasn’t painful at all. His hand massaged your hip gently, fondling the flesh and gently guiding you to grind against him while his other hand slid in between your connected bodies, caressing the moist skin of your thigh before moving in between to lightly rub your clit, feeling you clenching around him tightly.

You felt fuzzy, leaning into him fully to let his warmth relax you, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against you while your eyes fluttered shut, head fully nuzzled into his neck. You felt the knots building up again, even stronger this time, leaving you with no time to warn him before your orgasm washed over you hard, your walls spasming around him while a muffled moan left your lips, his fingers rubbing your clit just heightening up your sensitivity. He breathed heavily, his eyes filled with adoration at the way you cummed around his cock, his shaft having a white ring around him, filling his heart with a sickeningly proud feeling at the realisation that only he was capable of making you cum so hard, of making you get rid of all those thoughts.

His own orgasm flooded within him soon after, balls tightening up as he pulled his cock out of your cunt and gave it a few pumps, spraying the thick strings of his cum all over your sweaty, trembling thighs.

Both of you were breathing heavily, tingles spreading through your skin that made you smile at how full of pleasure you felt right now, all floaty as you fully collapsed onto him, clinging onto his tight while his sticky cock rested against your inner thigh, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your lower back.

“Si… Thank you so much…” You sleepily babbled, your breathing getting calmer.

He wished that he could show you the stupid smile that was spread on his face right now.

“I am goin’ to go for deployment after two days.”

He randomly announced that night, causing you to freeze and look away from the movie you both were watching and towards him, eyes all wide. What the fuck? And here you were being happy that he had decided to stay with you tonight, having agreed to spend some time with you.

You were making it all up, all this happiness and whatever feelings and signals you thought you were getting from him. Deployment. God, you hated that word and the way it filled you with dread, the way it always left you all anxious during the weeks he’d be away, fighting god knows who, literally a mistake away from walking on a bridge from life to death.

“How long…?” You quietly asked, trying not to seem so fazed by his sudden words, fingers fiddling with your shirt while your eyes looked away.

“Dunno… I believe it won’t be longer than two weeks. Don’t worry, love.” He mumbled after a while, subtle warmth lingering in his voice as his hand reached to gently caress the back of your head, causing you to sigh softly and lean into him, frowning a bit.

“Okay… Stay safe, Si.”

You trust him. Of course you do.

Liar. Fucking liar. It had been three weeks, three weeks without any contact from him, or any news from him. He wasn’t on this mission with Kyle as far as you knew, so there was no point in asking him.

Was Simon safe? Was he wounded? Did he get captured? Did he get tired of you? Is he finally getting rid of you? Is he… abandoning you?

You tried to shake these thoughts off your mind, trying to remember that his job was a hard one. Still, you stupidly kept grabbing your phone, desperate for any notification or noise.

Only to be met with silence.

notes : thank you so much for the support on the previous chapter :( !! i feel truly grateful. also... feeling evil i love fucking stuff up for simon.

[getitoutofmymindwrites]

Something impulsive | joel miller x f!reader x marcus pike, 7.1k

Summary: The distance between you and Joel grows. You decide to give Marcus a chance. A chance encounter shifts the balance between you and the two men.

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, image just for aesthetic purposes, reader does not have a description, angst, slow-burn, insecurities, first date nervousness, flirting, sexual thoughts, kissing, Joel still being a prick, Joel still being an idiot (bear with him) dog piss (bear with me, too), as always let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: And here I was, thinking that this time I'll keep it short. Who am I kidding. Thank you for taking the time to read anything I write! Love you all!

P.S.: Credits for the final scene go to @jessthebaker and this hilarious comment that I just had to include in the chapter:

Dividers by @cafekitsune & @thecutestgrotto

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

previous |

Radio silence.

That is what you would call it.

After your last encounter, you haven't seen or heard from Joel for two long weeks. No text, no phone call, nothing. Were you entering the winter phase again? Most likely.

You regretted the way you had challenged him that night. It wasn't really your style, but that's what happens when you bottle things up. Especially things like desire and longing. Eventually, they erupt like a fucking volcano after a long hibernation. Brutally. And yet you haven't got an ounce or a reaction. Something. Anything at all.

You were terrified that your friendship had been broken. You could have texted him. You should have. You felt it was all your fault anyway. You should have apologized. But you were angry. And selfish. And deep down you blamed him for your reaction, for making you feel helpless, a pawn in his hands.

But was that the case? And can you really blame anyone for your own actions? You were responsible for the way you reacted. You could have done things differently. You knew that. But you did not want to admit that to him.

Whether you were angry or not, you missed him all the same. You missed his presence, his voice, his scent. You missed the sound of his name on your tongue. The warmth of his irises and the softness in his eyes when he looked at you. And boy, did he look at you.

He may not have been a man of many words, but sometimes, just sometimes, his gaze spoke louder than any voice in the room. That's how you got into this mess in the first place.

One evening, on your day off, you hang out with Trish at your place. You needed the company, being alone with your thoughts for too long wasn't a good idea. The two of you sit on the sofa, drinking beer and eating pizza straight out of the box. You had already put your girls to bed and this was your happy hour.

"Are you dating Marcus you little weasel?"

"Where did that come from?", your eyes widen in surprise.

"Joel asked me the other day.", Trish reveals, laughing under her breath.

"WHAT?" you squeal in disbelief. Joel was not the type to ask about other people's private matters. Especially yours and especially to his cousin. "OK, please, elaborate."

"He asked me if you’re seeing him.", she continues.

"When did this happen?", you try to draw an imaginary map in your mind, gathering all the information available to you to understand what might be going through his mind.

"A few days ago, maybe?" she says nonchalantly.

"He asked that explicitly? Those were the exact words he used?", you insist like a hound dog looking for clues.

"Of course not." Trish rolls her eyes, "He danced around it for a while, but I pretended I didn't know what he was talking about -which I obviously don't- and then I made him ask directly."

"Oh god, give the poor man a break!", you exclaim, you could only imagine what a menace could she be when she wanted to.

"Well, are you?"

"No, I’m not. But if he asks again tell him I am."

"Why?", she frowns but looks amused at the same time. Oh, she's up to something.

"So he will leave me alone." Well he already kind of did, but maybe it was for the best to cut the ties once and for all.

"What do you mean? Is he bothering you?" Trish insists, curiosity sparkling in her eyes.

"No- he's- it's not- uh-" where would you even start, it's all a fucking mess, anyway. "Forget I said anything-" you try to end the conversation, but-

"I might have kind of implied that, though?" Trish wrinkles her nose, trying to minimize the damage.

"WHAT?"

"Only because he looked desperate" she rushes to explain, "and honestly you two should really fuck each other. So I thought maybe I could spice things up a bit."

A minute or two passes before you answer her. All this information bombarding your mind left a paralyzing feeling in your mouth. He looked desperate? Why the fuck? Was this the classic 'I want what I can't have'? He wasn't that type. And he could have his way with you if he wanted to. Couldn't he? Did he get the feeling that you weren't interested? What more could you have done, he was the one who went cold and hot all the time. "It's not like that." is all you say.

"The hell it isn't." Trish quips, almost offended.

"We don't want the same things Trish, and I won't make the same mistakes again." you draw the line. "What did he say?", you ask without shame, because you just have to know, even if it hurts you.

"Oh, you know, he put on his usual 'Joel grumpy face' and walked out on me. But honestly, what did you expect?" she shrugs and continues, "So, if 'it's not like that'", she air-quotes you mockingly, "why don't you give Marcus a real chance? He's a good guy and I don't often say that," Trish points her finger at you.

"I'm sure he is Trish, but I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's not honest."

"To whom?"

"To him."

"And..?" she presses you.

You close your eyes, because you really don't want to say it and it feels frustrating but comforting at the same time to have a friend who knows you so well. "And to my heart.", you mumble coyly.

"Oh, baby c'mere. You really like my stupid cousin, don't you?" Trish wraps her arms around your shoulders, squeezing you into a tight hug.

"No, I do not." It's more than that. "And don't push it any further, it's not happening.", it's your turn to point the finger at her.

"Ok.", she sighs troubled. "Ok, look at me and listen carefully.", she makes a serious face, holding your hands in hers as she begins. "Joel's my cousin and he is a good man and I love him, but he has his own issues to deal with-"

"What do you mean?" You interrupt her curiously. You never thought to ask about his past before, it seemed invasive.

"It’s not my place." she cuts you off with a guarded look that seems so foreign on her face and continues, "The point is, you cannot wait for him forever."

"I'm not-" you start to deny it, but Trish grabs your face in her palms, squeezing you gently to make her point and you stop mid-sentence.

"You deserve to be happy. And you can't miss something you've never had." her eyes bore into yours, full of care and concern.

Her last words strike you like a slap on the face.

Oh, but you can. You already are.

Another two weeks have passed and you still haven't heard from Joel. He's stuck in your head like a virus, unable to think of anything else. This is the longest you've gone without talking. It's taking its toll on you, making you fidgety and jumpy, irritated by the simplest things. You've reached your breaking point and you're ready to call him, just to see if he's OK.

And, if you're honest with yourself, to give him a chance to make a move. He might think you don't want him to reach out. That thought makes you even more angry, you sound so pathetic in your head, begging for a man's attention. A man who has never made his intentions clear. You should stand up for yourself, hold your own.

You're at the office, shuffling through your bag, looking for your phone, still debating whether to call him. As you reach deep into your bag, searching through the million things you stuff in there, you feel a hard, papery thing on your fingertips. You fish it out and see that it's Marcus' card. You don't even remember putting that thing in there. But you remember him giving it to you.

He was such a gentleman and so thoughtful that night. He didn't ask for your number and he didn't press to put his on your phone. He gave you his card, clearly stating that he hoped you would get in touch with him.

"..why don't you give Marcus a real chance?.."

You take a deep breath and unlock your phone.

"..You cannot wait for him forever.."

This is it.

"..You deserve to be happy.."

You're going to call him. Right now? Yes, right now.

He picks up after the third ring.

"Agent Pike.", his voice deep and smooth, runs like honey in your ears. You remember how much you liked the sound of it.

You’re taken aback for a moment, you'd almost forgotten what he did for a living. It was strange but interesting to hear him like that, it stirred something in you. "Uh- um-" you lose your train of thought for a second, "hi- I don't know if you rememb-"

Marcus says your name instantly, the surprise evident in his tone. "I was beginning to think you'd either lost my card or I'd made a terrible, terrible first impression on you," he says with a soft laugh, vulnerability coloring his voice.

"No, no, god- no, nothing like that.. It was really nice to meet you!" you reassure him, because it really was.

"Yeah, you too.." Marcus replies and you can hear the smile in his voice. He doesn't say anything else, giving you time to collect yourself.

"I just-" you squeeze your eyes shut, trying not to freak out, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, you hadn't planned this, "I've been really busy, with work and the kids, I haven't had a chance to..." the words catch in your throat as you think of the real reason you've been busy.

Obsessing over unavailable men.

But you don't want to lie to Marcus, he's been so kind and open, so you pause, looking for a way out of the hole you've dug yourself into.

"Hey, it's OK," Marcus takes the lead, sensing your discomfort, "you didn't have to call, but I'm really glad you did. I thought about getting your details from Trish in case you lost my number, but then I didn't want to force you into anything in case you didn't lose my number, you know?" he laughs timidly.

"Yeah, I know; that is so thoughtful of you. I'm- I'm glad I called." It feels strange to admit something like that, something so small, to be honest, to be so open and talk about positive things, to make someone feel good with your words on a personal level. You've spent the last few years just doing it for your daughters, loving them, hyping them up, rooting for them, but it's a change that you welcome and you discover that you really, really missed it.

There's a short silence on the other end, which makes you feel anxious, so you decide not to bother him any more. "I'm sorry I called during office hours, I-"

"No, no, no, don't even think about it, there are no office hours at my line of work anyway, so.." Marcus rushes to put you at ease. "I was just wondering if I should ask you out or if I'm jumping the gun," he blurts out and you can feel his hesitation through the phone.

"Well," you try to lighten the mood, "you're the one asking questions for a living, so why don't you earn your keep?" you bite your lower lip in anticipation and then snicker to yourself. You hear Marcus laughing, amused and impressed by your little stunt, and you have a deep desire to hear it again, knowing that it's your doing.

Marcus is not one to shy away from a challenge, so he delivers quite brilliantly. "It would give me great pleasure if you would go out with me," he says your name softly at the end, "I know it can be tricky with the girls and work and all that, but I'm sure we could work something out; my office hours are very flexible," he informs you, cleverly covering all your possible obstacles.

"I thought you didn't have office hours..." you return playfully, feeling lighter already, the thought of Joel still lingering, but the pain of it fading in your heart.

"For you I do." Marcus deadpans with an amazing ability to not make it sound cheesy. And you know exactly what kind of ability it is.

The one of honesty.

Your heart is in your mouth. You're sure of it. You can taste your heartbeat on the tip of your tongue. As much as you've tried to play it down, you're nervous, your stomach is in knots. You spend most of the evening whining to Trish on the phone, freaking out about what to wear and ending up with a "What does it matter anyway? It's one date and that's it, he's not sticking around. Yeah, he's not. I'm good, I'm fine, this is fine." you shrug as you look at yourself in your bedroom mirror.

Trish's voice brings you back to reality, "None of that, everything's going to be fine, you're going to have a good time and you're going to keep having a good time." You looked sideways at the phone as if Trish could see you through it, glancing at the time. "Ok Trish, thanks for the pep talk, but I have to go or I'll be late."

"Sure thing babe, have a great night-"

"Thanks Trish-" you speak over her voice sure she's done with the pleasantries, but-

"-and don't forget to fuck 'im."

The line goes dead before you can reply.

Jesus Christ.

"You got this. You got this. You got this," you chant to yourself, pacing the living room, checking the time on your phone every thirty seconds. "Yeah," you exhale with nervous conviction, "you got this." The doorbell rings and your stomach clenches. Conviction my ass, "No, you don't." you mutter before rushing to answer the door.

Your heels click on the wooden floor and you pin the hem of your dress down once more, just to be sure. It wasn't terribly short, but still, you haven't dressed for a date in God knows how long.

You open the door and your breath catches in your throat. But you could say the same about Marcus. You look at one another for a moment, both admiring each other. He looks sharp, clean-shaven, with a prominent jawline that makes you want to suck on it from side to side.

His hair is combed back and slightly to the side. He looks so handsome and then he smiles at you. A real smile, big and toothy and bright and beautiful. His eyes crinkle and his plush lips stretch with the force of it. His suit is elegant and clean, neatly pressed, and the two top buttons of his shirt are undone, showing a hint of his tanned chest, making it more casual.

"Hey.." Marcus speaks first, pulling himself out of his haze. His eyes drink you in, unable to land on one spot, admiring your simple but elegant black dress that stops mid-thigh, the softness of your exposed skin, the curves of your body and the features of your face.

"Hi..." you say back shyly, noticing his admiration.

"I- Christ-", he stutters almost confused.

"What's wrong?" you fidget with the fabric of your dress, your nerves getting the better of you once again.

"I almost forgot how beautiful you are-" Marcus admits, his eyebrows raised, a hint of pink spreading across his cheeks. "-you look amazing," he compliments, raising his arm and pointing his open palm in your direction.

You pray that you can fast-forward to the actual date and stay right here on the threshold of your house at the same time. "Oh, thank you -" you reply quietly, with a shy smile on your lips.

"These-" Marcus raises his other hand, suddenly remembering what he's holding, "these are for you," he hands you a beautiful bunch of flowers, obviously made specifically for you by a florist, wrapped in a beautiful ribbon. What is it about this man that turns the most clichéd things into thoughtful actions?

"These are so beautiful, thank you, let me-" you point towards the house so you can put them in a vase, signaling him to come in with your head.

"Hope it's not too much..", Marcus wonders as he enters the hall of the house.

"It's perfect," you smile warmly as you return from the kitchen with the filled vase and place it on the entryway furniture, admiring the arrangement. You place the palm of your hand on his bicep, reassuring him as you turn to leave.

His eyes shine with appreciation as he takes your palm in his warm hand, planting a soft kiss on the pulse point of your wrist. His scent fills your nostrils, sweet and masculine, and you can almost smell his shampoo as he leans forward. Your lips part and your eyes widen at the intimate contact, but instead of feeling pressured, all you want is for him to do it again on any part of your skin he likes. His plush lips are warm and soft, leaving the slightest trace of moisture as they part your skin, sending a wave of shivers through your body.

You stifle a gasp but you can't hide the dilation of your irises and he can't hide the hunger behind his. He cups your cheek in his hand, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb. "Ready?" he asks in a hushed tone.

"As I'll ever be."

The drive is bathed in bits of small talk and comfortable silence, appreciating each other's presence without having to fill the quiet of the cabin every second. Marcus' gaze is split between the road ahead and you at his side. He drives with one hand, his right resting comfortably on the gearbox.

God, you're such a cliché, noticing the way his broad palm rests there, the veins bulging between his fingers and on his hand and it makes you squirm in your seat. Your date hasn't even started yet and you're already feeling uncomfortable in your underwear. Are you that needy? Or is it him? Is he doing this to you?

Joel.

No, stop. Don’t think about him. Not right now. Stop.

Joel.

No.

Joel.

NO.

You don't realize you're holding your breath until Marcus is asking if you're all right.

"What?" you snap out of your haze, jerking your head to look at him. He looks worried, his forehead forming a deep crease between his eyebrows. "I lost you there for a minute, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I'm fine."

"You don't gotta do that, you know."

"Do what?"

"Say you're fine. You're allowed not to be."

You start to contradict him, but then you realize he's right.

"You're right," you admit, looking at him sheepishly. "I'm just nervous- and it's not your fault-" you hasten to explain, "I just haven't done this in so long that it feels like it's happening to someone else, like I'm watching myself from a distance."

He smiles at you knowingly and you add frustratedly, "That's so uncool, I'm sorry, I should be-"

"Moment of truth?" Marcus cuts you off before you can finish your thought.

"Um- OK?"

"I'm already hooked." he bites his lip, stealing a glance in your direction, his shoulders shrugging as if he had just told you the most natural thing in the world.

"Excuse m-" you look at him in bewilderment.

"I know I should play hard to get and do all the stuff everyone does on a first date, act cool and whatnot," he gestures in the air with his free hand, "but really? I'm hooked. Captivated. So-" he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully, "if anyone should be anything, it's me, scared that I'm going to screw this up, somehow. But you know what?" he looks at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

"What?" you manage to croak, your whole body buzzing with anticipation.

"I'm going to choose to enjoy this night by being myself-" he stops and scrunches his eyes in thought, "-well, ok, I'm going to hold back a bit," he jokes playfully, making you both laugh at that, relieving some of the tension and he takes your hand in his, squeezing it gently, "because I don't know if I'll get another chance. I can only hope that at the end of the night you'll choose to see me again."

He brings your intertwined hands to his lips and kisses your knuckles tenderly. He's said all the right things, everything you want to hear and dear God, he makes you want to climb him like a tree. You bite your lower lip so hard you're afraid you'll draw blood.

He studies your face and your fluttered expression for a moment, a smile of accomplishment painted on his perfect mouth, before he adds, "And you shouldn't be anything other than what you want to be. Neither of us should."

The date was not what you expected, because it was actually a success. Zero awkwardness, lots to talk about, mutual humor and gentle glances. You started with dinner in a not-too-casual-not-too-formal restaurant and ended up in a great bar, lively but not too loud, where you had delicious cocktails over and over again. Not Marcus though, because he was driving. So responsible, you wanted to sink your teeth into his neck.

Marcus was truly interested in you. He asked you about everything, he really wanted to know about your life. You didn't delve much into the divorce and he didn't push it. But you told him more about your background, your work, your daughters, the challenges of being a single mother and to your surprise, he listened. Actively. When you told him it was his turn to spill the beans, he told you about his job and his specialty; his move to Texas for a fresh start and when you asked him why he felt he needed one, he reluctantly told you about proposing to his girlfriend of two months.

"I know, I know-" he raises his hand in defence as he shakes his head in disbelief, "I don't know what the hell I was thinking, I guess-" he looks down at his empty glass as if searching for answers, "sometimes I have a hard time letting things go."

He dares to meet your eyes through his lashes, to study your reaction. But your expression is neutral, no judgment on your part. "But I'm working on it, letting things happen naturally, you know? If it's meant to be, it's meant to be." he shrugs casually.

"That must be hard for you to deal with." you observe.

"Why would you think that?" he seems curious to know what you think of him, smiling crookedly.

"You strike me as someone who really tries to work things out, to fix what's broken. You don't give up easily, do you?"

His eyes bore into yours as he confirms, "No, I don't," smirking at you. You break eye contact and look down at your lap, biting back a smile of your own.

Suddenly you hear your name being called and you scan the room to find the source. You see Tommy just a few meters away, coming towards you to say hello. Marcus looks between the two of you, his eyes finally landing on yours, catching your faltering smile. "Hey, Tommy, how are you?" you hug him gently and then introduce the two men.

"Hi, nice to meet you." Tommy holds out his hand as Marcus extends his own, "You too."

"Who's the lucky girl this time, Tommy?" you tease with a devilish grin as you wink at him.

"The lucky girl is actually my brother." Tommy laughs breathlessly and your face immediately falls as he points his thumb behind him.

Joel is there at the other end of the bar, sitting on a table, his gaze fixed on you, his whole posture stiff, his jaw clenched and his eyes hard on you. You raise your arm weakly and wave at him, and he nods back sternly.

Marcus misses absolutely none of this.

How long had they been there? How much did he see? Did you do anything inappropriate? you keep checking yourself for any flawed behavior. But then you realize that you don't have to answer to him or anyone else. You can do as you please. So why do you keep hoping you haven't let him down?

"You wanna join us? There's plenty of room, come on.", Tommy invites you to their table.

You feel your legs give out just at the thought of this gathering and you try to decline politely, "We wouldn't want to impose, it's OK-"

Tommy gives you a confused look, as if you haven't spent the best part of the last two years hanging out together. "What the hell are you talking about, love? Come on, move that ass of yours." he waves his head in their direction. You glance swiftly from Tommy to Marcus and then back to Tommy, hoping he'll get the message, but he doesn't. Damn it, Tommy.

Marcus notices your apprehension and puts the palm of his hand on your forearm, caressing your skin with his thumb.

"Are you OK? Do you want to go instead?" he says in a quiet voice, just for you to hear.

You almost jump at his suggestion, "No, no, I just don't want you to think I'm not having a good time with you…" you lower your eyes, feeling vulnerable.

"Hey, hey, look at me." Marcus lowers his head to meet your gaze, "I think I'd know if this date was going south. But if for some reason it is and I'm too smitten to see it, I'm all ears." Marcus searches your eyes and you shake your head with conviction.

"It's not," is all you say, and you lean forward to place a kiss on his cheek, on the side of his face that is hidden from Joel's inspection. As if that would make what you just did any less obvious. Marcus' lips part, and he turns his head sideways to look at your profile, almost brushing it with his own.

His eyes linger on your mouth as you lean back to your seat, and then he licks his lower lip like a starving man preparing for his favorite meal. "Let's go meet your friends before I do something impulsive," he whispers in your ear, his grip on your arm tightening, his nose pressing against your temple and his lips brushing your earlobe.

Goosebumps spread across your skin and you have half a mind to get the fuck out of here and drag him back to your house. But instead you giggle like a schoolgirl and lead the way to hell, feeling the warmth of his hand on your lower back and the moisture of your pussy running down your thigh.

If a person could combust out of stillness, it would be Joel. You're not even sure he's breathing at this point. You train your eyes on his chest, trying to follow the rise and fall of his rib-cage, just to make sure he doesn't faint.

He's sitting directly opposite you, next to his brother, who's sitting opposite Marcus. He's nursing a beer with one hand, the other behind Tommy's seat. He barely speaks to you, he avoids looking at you and that makes you feel like you’re doing something wrong and he's giving you the cold shoulder. It takes everything you've got to swallow the lump in your throat and the tears behind your eyes, but you do it.

The same waitress who took your previous orders comes back and asks what you and Marcus are having. You order a beer, and before Marcus can place his own, Joel spits, "If you're driving her back, you shouldn't be drinking," giving him a disapproving look.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment, your eyes dart from the waitress to Joel and then to Marcus, ready to apologize on his behalf. You knew Joel could be abrasive, but never so blatantly rude. Those were the first words he said to him.

Jesus, what is his problem?

Marcus seems to be able to handle his own, answering to you instead of Joel without missing a beat. "Good to know you have such protective friends," he says with a twinkle in his eye and then he orders, "I'll have the same as before, thank you.", shifting his gaze to the waitress. "One soda with a slice of orange coming up," she says politely and leaves to get your drinks.

You glare at Joel, but he doesn't seem to be paying attention, although he flinched almost imperceptibly when he heard Marcus' choice of drink. Marcus gives you a gentle kiss on the temple and you begin to suspect that he knows exactly what's going on between you and Joel, whose jaw is twitching at the sight of Marcus' public display of affection towards you.

You envy Tommy at the moment because he seems blissfully unaware, so you turn the conversation to him. Or at least you try, because as soon as you open your mouth to speak, Joel cuts you off and asks Marcus what he does for a living.

You can't help but think that after your first meeting in that god’s forsaken bar, it took him months to strike up a conversation with you, but tonight, for some reason, he just can't seem to shut up.

Marcus, being as polite as ever, gives him the general answer that he works for the government.

"Ah, a white collar," Joel replies condescendingly and your eyes bulge out of their sockets, "must be nice, relaxed." still not looking at you and God does he tick you off. Tommy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you, not sure what's going on. In any other case you would have found it endearing. Not so much now.

You too are squirming in your seat, trying to think of a way out of this awkward situation. This is not how you imagined your first date would end. And it's certainly not how you expected to meet Joel after all these weeks.

Marcus seems unfazed by the veiled hostility coming his way, smiling back at Joel, almost enjoying the antagonism. "Not necessarily, but I can't talk about it either." This catches Joel's attention and he looks at you questioningly for the first time. You tilt your head slightly to the side, signaling what are you doing? but Joel takes his eyes off you, sipping his beer nonchalantly.

"What about you? What do you do for a living?" Marcus returns the question.

"We're contractors, me and Joel; we're brothers," he gestures between himself and Joel, "and we work together." Tommy chimes in quickly, having reached his limit of awkwardness at the table. You breathe a sigh of relief, but it's not long lived.

"And how do you all know each other?" is the next natural question to come out of Marcus' mouth.

Joel's eyes land on you briefly, something flashes past them and before you can stop him-

"She and I actually met in a bar..." Joel smirks at Marcus, but you speak at the same time-

"Joel-" Your voice is firm as a warning, fully accepting that your tone might be alarming to your unsuspecting company.

"What?" Tommy's voice falters, laughing uncomfortably, completely at a loss. Marcus reads the table, his eyes darting between the three of you, at the same time placing a protective hand over your shoulder, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb.

"What?" Joel repeats in a different tenor to his brother and he shrugs, smiling, "It's no big deal, tell them," he has the audacity to put you on the spot, nodding his chin at you.

You feel the contents of your stomach move up your esophagus, cold sweat coats your skin in a thin layer. Betrayal. That's all you can think of. "Uh-", you try to find the words, but nothing comes out, betrayal, you're not good at it, lying doesn't come easy to you, betrayal, especially with three sets of eyes on you. Joel just sits there with a smug look on his face and you wish you had the guts to slap it out of him.

Betrayal.

Marcus' voice brings you back to the present, are you all right?, a soft whisper caresses your ear and soothes your insides. The bile in your throat begins to return to its rightful place, but your eyes are already moist, your waterline glassy, a look of defeat and disappointment painted on your soft face. Joel sees it all written on those contours of yours that he has come to know and marvel at from afar, and it is as if a sudden realization hits him, snapping him out of his asshole behavior. He is cruel to you.

"All right, all right," he rolls his eyes and continues with a sigh, and Tommy's eyes return to his brother, but Marcus' remains fixed on you. "We met in a bar and we had a heated..." he stops abruptly and your face takes on a look of horror as he searches for the right word. "...argument." Joel finally adds. "We exchanged a few words, but then we ran into each other at my cousin's house and the rest is history." he laughs as he waves his hand in the air and winks at you.

You bite your lower lip as hard as you can to keep your chin from trembling, but a single tear of relief or suppressed anger, you're not sure anymore, escapes from the side of your face that only Joel can see, as you give him a forced, watery smile.

Luckily the bar is dimly lit, otherwise they would all be able to see the redness spreading across your chest, the rage manifesting itself on your body. Used and played is how you feel, and Joel is the last person you would have thought would put you in this position. You'd bet all your money on it.

"Why didn't you say anything?" Tommy wonders aloud, looking between you and Joel. You clear your throat and have no choice but to confirm Joel's lie. "It felt awkward at the time, so we pretended we didn't know each other. It was an unfortunate moment, one I deeply regret," you lock eyes with Joel and see his facade almost crumbling, "that will never recur, ever again." you continue to stare at him as you speak the last words with concealed bitterness. For the first time that night, he looked down at his lap in shame and regret, pretending to peel the label off his bottle with his thumb.

The ride home was silent, you were emotionally drained, something Marcus picked up on easily, so he simply offered his open palm, which you gladly accepted, tucking your fingers between his own. He continued to caress your skin, back and forth, and it was all you needed to calm your nerves.

As he walked you to the front door of your house, you felt compelled to apologize to him in a profound way. "I'm so sorry about Joel," you shake your head, looking down at your feet, your fingers scratching your forehead, a worried look on your face, "he can be intense sometimes -" why are you defending him?

Marcus lifts your chin with a gentle finger under it, his thumb caressing your jawline. "I don't care about Joel." With one simple sentence, he has erased him from your conversation. No more room for him to steal any longer of your night with Marcus.

“But-”

“I'm the one standing on your porch right now am I not?”, the implication clear in his voice and words.

“I'm not sure what-” you try to avoid confirming or denying his assumptions.

"Mhm," he smiles knowingly, his eyes fixed on yours, searching for something. You feel safe with him, but you can't shake the feeling that you've ruined everything. Marcus' eyes drop to your lips and he slowly leans forward, stopping just inches from you, waiting for you to initiate. You can feel yourself unable to relax, your body stiff, frozen. But you want to, you really do, so you ask instead, "Are you going to do something impulsive now?"

He smiles and leans even closer to your lips, his breath gently fanning across your plump skin. His nose gently nudges yours, "Yes, I think I might."

Your lips almost touch when a muffled voice followed by loud barks startles you both, causing you to pull away and look around for the source of the disruption. After a few seconds, you both see a medium-sized dog running down the street. You wait to see if its owner follows, but no one appears. You turn to look at each other, giggling at the strange interruption.

Marcus caresses your cheek with the back of his knuckles and you lean into his touch, the moment gone and lost. "I hope you had a decent time because I know I had a great one and I really hope I get to see you again."

"Marcus," you scowl at him, "are you fishing for compliments?" you chastise him teasingly.

"Well, a man can dream," he smirks playfully as he tries to get some distance between you in case he comes on too strong.

"You don't have to," you coo, grabbing his collar to crush your lips against his.

After the initial shock, Marcus holds your head in his hands, tilting it to return the kiss and deepen it. His soft lips massage yours, sucking and nibbling at your lower lip. His upper lip and tongue capture yours, tugging gently, sending waves of pleasure through your body. He licks into your mouth, exploring every soft cavity, and you suck on his tongue in return.

He grunts into your welcoming cavern and you fist the fabric of his shirt that adorns his chest tighter. He presses his body into yours, trying to keep his pelvic area from pressing into your lower abdomen, but you can feel his growing erection inescapably.

You come up for air and murmur into his mouth, "I had a great time and I'd like to do it again".

This time it is he who presses his mouth to yours, kissing you fervently, sucking all the air out of your lungs. Your body is on fire, your abdomen tingling with desire.

You whimper against his lips as you reach for the short curls at the back of his neck, tugging them gently between your fingers, causing him to growl against your wet flesh, and he can feel your nipples poking at his chest through the thin material of your dress as you press your torso against his in sheer determination.

He's sure he's going to lose it and fuck you in front of your house for all your neighbors to see if he doesn't stop now. He breaks the kiss, panting, his eyes boring into yours, your foreheads touching. "Christ, woman," he closes his eyes and laughs to himself, "you're going to give me a heart attack."

"Better me than old age, right?" you try to hide your teasing smile behind your tightly pressed lips.

"Hey, I'm about to arrest you for threatening a government official," he warns without any conviction or authority.

"Are you going to handcuff me, Agent?" you ask, looking at him through your lashes and it comes out more breathless than it should.

"Jesus." Marcus mutters through his teeth, his resolve hanging by a thread. "OK." he gives you a sharp look, "I'm going to leave for the sake of both of us," he says, but his grip on your hip tightens, as if he's afraid you'll disappear.

"You could come in, you know," you offer, looking at him sheepishly.

His expression is pained when he has to turn you down. "And I'd like nothing more, but I want to do this right. Please, let me do this right." Marcus pleads softly, rolling his forehead over yours in desperation.

"What does that even mean?" you ask, a bit embarrassed by his rejection.

"Means I want to wine and dine you, spoil you, give you the perfect date," he coos into the soft skin beneath your ear, making you shudder at his soft promise. "And when you think you can't go another second without my touch, then I'll come in and spoil you some more," he continues, brushing his moist lips along the pillar of your neck. "I will spoil you in all the ways you deserve." he finishes, planting an open-mouthed kiss on your pulse point under your jaw. Your knees buck and your pussy contracts, squeezing out your sweetness at the feel of his warm and wet tongue.

"OK," you breathe out in a shaky voice, nodding dumbly, cupping his face in your hands and planting a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

He smiles and presses his lips to your forehead murmuring "God, you're something," and his heart swells at your tender gesture.

Marcus takes a deep breath, pauses and seems hesitant, but speaks his mind anyway. "OK, I'm going to skip the whole 'three day rule' and call you tomorrow. Is that OK?" he looks anxiously into your eyes, "Am I rushing you?"

A spontaneous laugh escapes your lips at the sound of that. "I just invited you into my house, you think a phone call is going to rush me?" you frown, "You can call me whenever you want.", you say matter of factly. You turn to leave, but change your mind and face him again. "Actually," you bite your lip mischievously, "I need to make sure I can rely on the American authorities, so I'm counting on your word. I'll be expecting a call by tomorrow," you stifle a grin by pressing your lips together.

"Yes, ma'am." Marcus nods in amusement and gives you one last kiss, pressing his lips to yours for as long as he can before ushering you into the house. "Good night," he breathes against your lips.

"Good night," you whisper back with a shy smile and close the door behind you. Marcus walks to his car with a stupid grin plastered on his face, gets in and drives away, but not before making sure you have closed and locked your front door.

In the stillness of the night, Joel takes a moment to assess the situation and satisfied that the coast is clear, he carefully emerges from the large bush he was hiding behind.

He glances down at his dog pissed shoe and mutters to himself,

"Fuck."

previous |

[billwidoll]

Enemies aside

It was a party at the Cameron mansion and it was packed and everyone was having sex, drinking or dancing. And Rafe was one of them, Rafe was drinking and dancing a lot he was definitely on drugs too, But he didn't take his eyes off you. You were dancing and singing, You probably weren't drinking because you didn't drink much, you just liked to have fun.

You and Rafe's relationship was quite troubled. The two of you were always arguing and physically attacking each other. You never date, you just hate each other and no one ever understands the origin of this accumulated hatred between you both, You always said that Rafe was a shitty playboy and sexist, Rafe always said that you were spoiled and selfish.

"What the fuck is that girl doing at my party?!" Rafe asks Topper looking at you hanging out with your friends

"I don't know man, I think it was Sarah who invited you" Topper says drinking his beer and hoping there won't be a fight between you and Rafe

"She's getting out of here now!" Rafe speaks through his teeth, leaving Topper and unfortunately heading towards you.

You were dancing madly and that was bothering Rafe, he just wanted you to stop. Rafe grabs his arm tightly and turns you towards him.

"Let go of me you idiot!!" you say letting go of Rafe brutally

"What the fuck are you doing at my fucking party?" Rafe speaks completely angry and you laugh like sarcasm

"Huh? I thought you invited me" you say in an innocent voice, but smile like a devil

"You're a bitch..." Rafe says that to affect you, but he was looking deeply into your brown eyes and his body was giving a slight tremor

"Yes, I'm a little bitch, but I wanted to be Rafe Cameron's bitch..." You speak seductively and get closer to Rafe. Your favorite game was make Rafe Cameron crazy about you

"Stop it..." Rafe says in a hoarse voice, feeling your body shake and the tension and fire between you two increases

"With what? You love me Rafe Cameron...Meet me upstairs" You say getting very close to Rafe's lips, but leaving him soon after and going up to the second floor of the mansion, which was the Room

Rafe didn't want to give in, but you messed with him incredibly. Rafe was afraid of this, he never felt this way with a girl

Rafe obeys you and a few minutes later, he goes up to his room and you were there lying on his bed

"How audacious of you to lie in my bed" Rafe says in a sarcastic and sexual voice

"Oops... I guess I didn't know that was Rafe Cameron's bed" you say, feigning a slight misunderstanding

"Okay, but what did you want with me? Why did you call me here?" Rafe speaks already knowing about his ulterior motives

"Because I like your smell, I like your smile, I like your body and I like the way you are. You're hot!" You say getting close to him and touching Rafe's muscles as he spoke

"Didn't you hate me?" Rafe speaks with a disgusting smile on his face

"Enemies Aside...?" You whisper in Rafe's ear

"Girl...you're going to be the death of me!" Rafe says kissing you hard and leaving you in the clouds

"I hate you so much Cameron!" You speak breathlessly between hot and fierce kisses

"I hate you even more!" Rafe speaks breathlessly and horny

"I want you for myself! I want you to be my wife!" Rafe speaks completely surrendered to you and at that moment you realized you had the world in your hands

[etherealxwitch]

You're Mine

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie is tired of the men at your job and decides to take matters into his own hands, to show you that you're his.

Warnings: SMUT (minors DNI), mentions of a bar fight/blood, posessive!eddie, use of pet names, semi public sex, teasing, oral (f and m receiving), dirty talk, degradation, praise, fingering, squirting, ball play, orgasm denial, spanking, hair pulling, choking, creampie

WC: 4.1K

(first fic in a bit! hope yall enjoy!)

Remember to reblog and support the author!

You could feel Eddie’s eyes follow you around the bar, watch every move you make and the men make. This wasn’t the first time he had caught men obviously flirting with you, slipping their hand around your waist as they asked for another beer or shot you a wink. 

For the most part, Eddie kept his composure. You could tell he was angry by the grip he had on his beer, his knuckles turning white. What set him over the edge though was the second some random slipped a twenty dollar bill into your back pocket, swatted your ass, making a whole show about how he got to touch you.

You nodded and just gave the man a tight smile, trying your best not to slap him silly. You already know what’s coming for him, Eddie already standing up for the barstool. 

“Fuck this.” Eddie takes the last swig of his beer before he stomps over to you. He grabs the hand that’s on your ass and bends it back, laughing when the man winces in pain. “Do you like touching things that don’t belong to you?”

It all happened so quick after that- punches were thrown, and you were in complete shock. Not shocked that Eddie was causing a scene, shocked by how wet you were becoming after seeing Eddie beat a guy up for touching you.

He had a bloody nose, it dripping down his lips. He licked away, a smirk on his face. “Next time, watch your fucking hands.” Eddie grabbed your hand and gently dragged you out of the bar.

“Baby, I still have to work.” You tried to protest, even though your body wanted to be closer than him. 

He scoffed, opening the van’s back doors. “I think that little fight may have just got you fired.” He helped you inside, your back immediately hitting the van floor. “Plus, I need to show you who you belong to.” 

Eddie quickly jumped in after you, slamming the doors behind him.

You leaned up on your elbows to get a good look at him. “Oh, is that so?” You were toying with him, knowing that it would make it more fun for you. “Do I need reminding?”

“You wanna play that game?” Eddie was already shaking off his vest and leather jacket, leaving him in just his old jeans and a band tee. “I think you need all the reminding you can get,” he leaned over you, his whole body engulfing yours. His lips were pressed by your ear, your breath fanning over it. “Need to remind you who can exactly make you cum as hard as you can, sweetheart.”

Eddie has barely even touched you, yet you were craving more. Just having him this close, pressed to your body was having your cheeks heat up and your thighs clenching together. He’d always have this effect on you, but you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to it. 

“Trust me, I know how hard you can make me cum.” You bucked your hips up, grinding against his thigh. You needed to feel something, anything. “But, why don’t you show me anyways? I know how much you love when I make a mess for you.”

His bottom teeth caught his bottom lip as you grinded against his thigh. There was no doubt in his mind that you were soaked and he sensed it. Sensed that you needed more of his touch. 

“I’m gonna show you, don’t worry.” He kissed his way from your ear to your lips, licking along your bottom one.

It was sloppy, tongues rubbing against each other and teeth clanking. The beer and cigarette he had earlier lingered on his tongue, letting it flood your tastebuds.

You didn’t complain though, you loved the taste.

Eddie was selfish with this kiss, sucking the air from your body and claiming your lips as his. When he pulled away he gave you a soft smile. He looked at you as your lips were swollen and wet, pouting out for more.

In a swift movement, Eddie had your pants and panties down your legs, throwing them to the side and forgetting about it. His thumbs spread your pussy lips apart, your slick connecting them. His brown eyes stared down at awe at the fact that you were so wet this quick. 

“I’ve barely even touched you and you’re this wet?” He kissed your inner thigh, biting down and sure to leave a mark for later. “What did it for you? Was it me fighting that guy?” 

Your fingers tangled in his hair, looking down at him with hope in your eyes. He was so close to where you wanted him and the urge to just grind on his face was slowly taking over. “Uhuh, you looked so fucking hot and I couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie playful scoffed, the cold air from his breath hitting your swollen clit. You slightly arched your back, the feeling making you needier.

“How pathetic.” His calloused thumb barely ghosted over your hole eliciting a moan from you. “Is this my pussy?

“Y-yes, yes, it’s yours.” You maintained eye contact with him as you said it, wanting him to know how much you meant it. 

Without warning, he curled two fingers into your pussy. You could hear just how wet you were, and feel it too. The squelching sound echoing off the van walls. 

“I can’t hear you, baby.” He kept curling his fingers, hitting your g-spot with each thrust. To add fuel to the growing fire, he wrapped his pink lips around your clit, sucking harshly. 

You threw your legs over his head and pulled at his hair. “S-shit, Eddie! Yours! I’m yours, every part of me is yours.” You could barely catch your breath. 

Eddie pulled his mouth away with a pop!, a huge smirk plastered on his smug face. “Now, was that so hard?”

He didn’t give you time to answer, his lips finding home again around your clit. The moans were just flowing out of you now. His fingers hit deeper and deeper with each curl. You could feel the fingers of his free hand dig into the doughy flesh of your thigh, leaving behind little crescent indentions in their wake.

The shaking of Eddie’s head, the pulling of your clit was making you see stars. 

“Jesus Christ-,” your back was completely arched off the van floor. Could you finish a thought at this moment? Barely, it’s like you were exploding from the inside out.

You quickly took off your shirt and threw it behind you, Eddie’s free hand finding one of your nipples and giving it a pull. “Y-yes! Right there!”

Eddie pulled away from your clit again, his chin covered in your slick. “Yeah? Here?” He leaned forward, adding another finger before attaching his lips to your hard nipple. 

Between his fingers and his mouth working on you, you knew that your orgasm would come quickly, and that it did. 

You heard it before you felt it. All the built up tension finally let go as you squirted over Eddie’s fingers. “Oh my god! Fuck.” You threw your head back, barely able to hold yourself up. 

“That’s it, fucking squirt for me.” Eddie’s fingers kept moving, not letting up once even after you came. “Such a messy girl.”

“I- holy shit,” you finally opened your eyes, Eddie’s jeans covered in your squirt. 

You blushed at him, even more so when he pulled out his fingers and licked them clean. Not a drop left to be seen. He didn’t give you time to react much more, his fingers sliding against your tongue. “Taste how good you are for me.”

With greed, you licked the wet fingertips with your tongue. Making eye contact with him the whole time, you slid your tongue between his first and his middle finger, collecting what you could. You could hear his breath hitch in his throat as you sucked his fingers further into your mouth, gagging a little. 

“Fuck,” Eddie watched you, the way your bobbed your head to suck on his fingers. As he watched you swallow his fingers, his cock grew harder, if that was even possible. “You want something in your mouth that bad?”

You pulled away and nodded your head fast, maybe too fast. “Yes,” you sat up as best as you could on your knees and pushed Eddie to his back. “Let me suck your cock, please.” 

“Look at you, begging for it.” He grabbed your hair in a makeshift ponytail and pulled you closer to him, forcing your head right in front of his front bulge. “You want it? Take it.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, excitement running through your body. Quickly, you undid his belt, pulling his shirt up just a bit to kiss over his happy trail. You could feel his stomach muscles tighten under your touch.

With his pants now pooled around his ankles, you could tease him. You kissed down his happy trail, stopping right above his boxers just to make him squirm. 

“My cock isn’t going to suck itself,” the hand in your hair tightened, causing you to bite back a moan. “You’re the one who wanted my cock so bad, remember? I’m giving it to you, don’t make me regret it.”

Eddie lifted his hips, helping you pull down his boxers. His very hard cock sprang forward, slapping against his stomach with a wet sound. His cock was red, throbbing, and leaking with precum. Your mouth watered, needing a taste that bad.

He grabbed the base of his cock, tapping the tip of it against your lips. “Open wide for me, baby.” 

You did as told, not ever needing to be told twice. You rolled your tongue over the leaky slit, collecting the salty precum and swallowing it with a smile on your face. “You always taste so good.” Your lips trailed kisses across his cock, pressing them to his most sensitive places. 

Eddie grabbed the back of your head, holding you in place. “There we go, that’s a good girl.” 

You sucked on the mushroom shape tip, hollowing your cheeks, and closing your eyes. Eddie threw his head back against the small pile of clothes, basking in the feeling of your warm mouth. “Shit, your mouth was made to have something in it.”

The way you bobbed your head, his cock sliding down your throat, he was in heaven. 

You gagged around his cock, tears slowly falling down your cheek but you kept pushing. Wanting him to use you like a fleshlight. 

His cock hit the back of your throat and he moaned out, pulling at your hair to push your head deeper. You could barely breathe with how full your mouth was, stuffed to the brim of cock. So into pleasing him that you forgot to breathe, your lungs burning for air. 

“O-oh fuck, baby.” His voice was high pitched, his balls wetly settling against your chin as he bucked up into your mouth. He pulled your head up, giving you a chance to breathe and for him to catch how ruined your makeup was. 

Salvia trailed from your lips to his cock, connecting the two of you. “Don’t forget to come up for air now.”

You just rolled your eyes and attached your mouth back to his cock, giving him no time to protest. Your hand reached down between his legs and the second you cupped his balls into your warm hands, he almost came right down your throat. He leaned up off the van floor to watch you, his brown eyes hooded and dark with lust. 

You had him in the palm of your hands, literally. 

Kissing down his cock, you licked the thick vein on the underside of it. Mentally, you pat yourself on the back when you hear Eddie gasp. 

“Think these need some attention, yeah?” You winked at Eddie before sucking one of his heavy, cum filled balls into your mouth. 

Eddie’s hold on your hair tightens, making you whine with his ball in your mouth. “Let me see those eyes.” 

You looked up at him with hazy eyes. Your makeup was smeared, spit pooled at the corner of your mouth. Eddie’s cock rested on your forehead, you looked so wrecked. Under his gaze, the glassy eyes and desperate whines were simply perfect, a heavenly sight. His passion for ruining you broke every limit inside his head. Eddie was addicted to turning you into a wet, sticky mess.

The second you grabbed his cock to pump it, you could feel the throb of it in your hand. You sucked the other ball into your mouth, keeping up the pace of your hand. 

His balls bounced in your mouth from how fast you were pumping his cock. You squeezed at the tip and felt more precum dribbling, coating your fingers in a sticky mess. 

“Mmm,” you couldn’t say much, your mouth stuffed, but the taste of Eddie was just too good to be quiet about. 

Nothing could compare to the feeling of his soft but heavy balls hitting against tongue, causing spit to splash across your face. 

With Eddie, you were always willing to get messy. You never cared, always wanting to please him. 

You pulled away, rolling your tongue to give his balls something to bounce against. Eddie could barely concentrate on anything, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. “My good slut- fuck.”

The schlick sound of Eddie’s precum mixed with your spit was the only thing that could be heard. Eddie couldn’t even let out a moan, his brain completely fuzzy. 

Just before he was about to cum, you pulled off with a pop! and a mischievous smile on your face. 

“You think that’s funny?” Eddie used his strength to push you onto your back, his body pressing into yours. He grabbed your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “I asked you a question.” 

“So funny.” You pulled his shirt off the rest of the way, tracing your fingers down his chest. “Don’t you think it’s funny?” 

Eddie gripped the undersides of both your thighs, pushing them back until your legs were pressed to your chest. He had you folded up as if you were a pretzel, and you loved it. “Let’s see how funny you find it when you’re begging me to cum.”

You bit your lip in anticipation for what would come next. Eddie was the only one who could leave you speechless, snatching your breath away. He was a box of surprises.

He tapped the hefty tip of his cock to your clit, a whine escaping your lips. “Eddie…” You were desperate to feel him inside you, to feel his cock throb and ruin your hole.

Playfully, he scoffed and smacked at your thigh. “Look, you’re already begging for it.” He slowly slid just the tip into your soaked pussy, letting you get a small taste of what was about to come. “God dammit, you’re always so tight for me.”

You grabbed at his forearms, trying to hold yourself as best as you could. He was barely inside of you and your body was already craving more, wanting him to ruin you. “Please fuck me. Can’t you feel how bad I need it?”

Eddie dropped your legs, giving you a chance to wrap them around his waist and pull him deeper inside you. “Oh my god, yes. Just like that, Eddie.” 

Your eyes closed slowly at the feeling of him filling you up, balls deep.

“You’re soaked, sweetheart.” His teeth were clenched, your pussy clenching his cock and taking him for all he had.

He slowly pulled out, only to quickly slam back in. His thrusts were knocking the wind from your body. The only thing you were able to do was to grip at the van floor behind you, looking for anything to steady yourself.

“Yeah, fucking take it.” Eddie rested his forehead against yours, watching closely as your face showed just how much you loved his cock driving into pussy. “This is what you wanted, huh?”

“Uhuh! I wanted it so bad.” It felt like you were on fire, Eddie’s cock hitting the right spot each time.

You felt his ringed hand grip at your neck, giving it a tight squeeze just enough to cut off some of your air. “Say my name.” 

“I-,” your mind was blank, the only thing you were able to focus on was the pleasure coursing through your body.

“I fucking said,” Eddie pulled out and slammed back in, this time hard enough to jolt your body. His balls squished against your ass. “Say my fucking name.”

Your nails raked down his back, red lines following them. “Eddie, fuck.”

He laughed sadistically, his hand slapping at your cheek. It stung, but you liked the pain. 

“I can’t hear you, pretty girl.” Eddie gripped your chin and forced your eyes to look at his face. His hair was a sweaty mess and his cheeks were flushed. “I want everyone inside that bar to know who is fucking you so good for everyone- shit, for everyone to know who you belong to.” 

The second he let go of your chin and pinched at your clit, you let out a throaty moan of his name. “Eddie! Baby, oh my-.” His name fell from your lips over and over like a prayer. The melodic mewls only fueled his need, you were his favorite tune

“That’s my good girl.”

You could barely hold it on any longer, the pleasure flooding your body. Your orgasm was fast approaching, your toes curling and your legs shaking around Eddie’s waist; but he wasn’t having it, not yet.

He quickly pulled out, just as your pussy gave him one last clench. You were trying to catch your breath enough to complain to him. 

“Not that funny now, is it?” He gave you a toothy grin before leaning down and giving you a wet kiss. 

You bit his bottom lip, hard enough to probably draw some blood. Eddie groaned inside his mouth, loving the feeling of you biting his lip and his mushroom tip cock nudging at your clit. 

As your tongue rolled against his, you tangled your fingers into his hair, giving a nice tug. His teeth pulled at your bottom lip and let it plop back into place. 

“Can I cum now?” You reached between the two of your sweaty bodies to grab his cock, softly massaging the tip. “Don’t you want to feel it?” You batted your eyelashes at him knowing he can’t resist when you do it. 

With ease, Eddie grabbed the curve of your hip and flipped you over. Your knees now pressed to the floor and your ass pointed into the air. 

Eddie’s hand ghosted over the globe of your ass, smoothing your supple skin. “Never gonna get over this view.” He raised his hand back and gave you a nice spank, making you whine and squeeze your eyes shot and the slight sting. “Can’t wait to see this bouncing on my cock.”

You swayed your hips back and forth, barely feeling his cock against your skin. Just the brush of his cock against your clit was enough to make your skin crawl in such a good way.

“I need you inside me,” you reached between your legs and grabbed at his cock, running it through your folds. Your mouth went dry at how sensitive you were, feeling as if you might already cum. “Just want to be full of your cum.” 

“Yeah?” Eddie swatted your hand away and grabbed at your hips. He pulled you back and lined himself up perfectly with your wet and needy hole, sliding in until his balls were pressed right against your clit. “Shit-“

You hid your face in your hands, muffling your sounds. “Yes, you fill me so good!” Eddie’s cock fit perfectly inside you, this position making him hit deeper than before.

“Don't be so shy now. You weren't when you were begging for my cock, pathetic slut." His rough hand grabs a handful of your hair, lifting your head by it so he can hear you clearer. "Now, if you want to cum, I’m gonna have to hear you, sweetheart."

You let out a soft whine when Eddie slowly pulled out of your pussy, leaving just the tip in. You could feel each vein on his cock and just how it throbbed for you. 

With his other hand, Eddie grabbed your hip and pulled you down into his cock, letting out a groan. “T-told you I wanted to see your ass bounce.”

Slowly, you rolled your hips, looking for any sort of rhythm. You were so ready to cum before, but you knew if you even tried it without permission, it would make things harder for you. 

“Y-you’re so deep.” Each bounce or roll of your hips was sending Eddie’s cock right into your g-spot. Your toes were curling and you clenched around his cock, hoping to make him stay right at that spot. 

“Fuck, squeeze my cock just like that, baby.” Eddie pressed his sweaty forehead against your back. He placed gentle kisses along your skin, his teeth scraping at it just a bit. “Being so good, taking my cock like a good girl.”

That name had you letting out a pornographic moan, like your breath was being pulled from your lungs. “Say that again, please…” 

“What?” Eddie knew what you meant, he just wanted you to wait longer. 

He kissed his way up to your ear, his teeth now nibbling on your earlobe. He lowered his voice, just enough that it was barely a whisper. “Good girl.” 

Just as the words left his mouth, he thrusted into you. He wasn’t letting up either. His hips were pistoning, his cock driving into you, making you drop all over him and mess a mess. 

“Yes! Right there, Eddie- oh my god.” You could feel it, feel your orgasm coming. “Please let me cum! I-.” Your thighs were shaking, not able to finish your sentence.

Eddie was just out of breath as you, your pussy was taking him for all he had and he was willing to give it. “Tell me who you belong to again, baby.” He wrapped a hand around your body and quickly found your clit, rubbing fast and tight circles. “Tell. Me.” 

“I belong to you!” You barely finished your sentence before your whole body shook. You could feel yourself squirt onto his cock, all over his balls, and down your legs. The burn in your throat from moaning didn’t hurt, pleasure consuming you. The feeling didn’t stop, even after your vision had gone completely blurry. 

You clenched around Eddie’s cock as you came, pulling the deepest groans from him. “Milk my fucking cock, baby.” The grip he had on your hair tightened and you knew he was close. “Gonna fill you up, I know you’d like that.”

He throbbed inside you, your pussy milking just like he said. "You don't even have to answer. You're just a needy slut who wants to be nothing but cumdrunk." Somehow through all this, he kept his composure. His own orgasm is important to him now.

You nodded your head, your voice too hoarse from before. 

One more slam of his hips had Eddie spilling into you, filling you completely up until it was dripping out of you. “F-fucking take it.” He let go of your hair and grabbed both of your hips, digging his nails into the skin. “Just like that, y-yeah.”

He stayed inside of you until he had nothing left, being too weak to move. 

You fell to the van floor below you, your body spent and your pussy sore. “That- that was amazing.” You slowly turned your head to the side and saw Eddie smirking down at you, his eyes droopy and his skin red. “You’re amazing.” 

Eddie slowly pulled out and watched his cum drip from your pussy, a proud smirk on his face. “Don’t think we’re done just yet.” He looked for the clothes that had been thrown around earlier. “But we should get out of here before someone calls the cops from all the screaming you’ve been doing. 

“We aren’t done?” You looked at him with confusion written all over his face. Hadn’t you proved to him that you belong to him already or was he just toying with you and your pussy?

He leaned over and kissed your forehead, a total contrast to all the things he had just done to you. “Oh no,” he shook his head and laughed at the dumbfounded look on your face. “We aren’t going to be done until you’re crying on my cock and begging me to stop.”

As sore as you were, you felt yourself get wet all over again just from the thought of what he had planned. You were in for a long night, but you and your body are always willing to take whatever Eddie had in store.

tagging: @simping-over-boys-with-trauma @athenamunson1 @corrodedcorpses @hazzaismyreligion @devilcherryhot @milesthemenace @becca-alexa @somethingvicked @munsonology @eddiemunsonfuxks @abigailh-a @miarosso @foreveranexpatsposts @griffienn @angelina16torres-blog @eddiethesexy @chickennug90 @hbaramas @forksloree @stardustmunson

[kacievvbbbb]

@giurochedadomani really got me thinking about Shanks and his abandonment issues.

I think he has the terrible habit of repressing angry/hurt feelings that he has about his loved ones. Not quite toxic positivity but more like a man trying to always stay on good terms and good memories with loved ones.

It’s him not acknowledging the fact that Roger, Rayleigh his surrogate fathers and the Roger pirates his family essentially abandoned him when he needed them the most especially when from the flashback with buggy we can see that it so obviously hurt him enough to close off a part of himself causing Buggy to leave too.

All this to say it takes a lot for Shanks to get visibly angry at his loved ones and he has insane abandonment issues and guess who he decides to try and keep in his life? That right Mr I physically can’t stand to stay in one place for too long and my moods change like the grand line winds.

I do think Shanks genuinely what’s his relationship with Mihawk to be easy and he tends to do a lot to make it so and I do think it works half the time but Mihawk as much as I love him is tedious, he’s selfish, kind of childish, insanely single minded and incompetent with any emotion that isn’t a light boredom. and shanks for the most part does love all that about him and Shanks' peace loving people pleasing tendencies does mean they barely genuinely fight but when they do their emotional issues are so conflicting that its just a mess with a body count and a thousand mile radius.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Breaking Dishes. - OC

pairing: F!OC: Kathleen "Brass" Moore x John Price words: 2.7K~ cw: smut, arguments, violence, fighting/roughousing, breaking dishes, insults, toxic relationship.

It’s 8:12 A.M. when Kathleen finds herself sliding off bed and wrapping herself in a flowery black and pink silk robe. John’s side of the bed is cold, a sign he’s gotten up long ago.

She pads over to their en-suite bathroom and quickly washes her face, brushes her teeth and her hair, before she leaves the bedroom in search of her husband.

As she enters the kitchen, she finds her temper already rising, her jaw clenching as she looks around, finding multiple reasons to get angry already, so early in the morning, so early in a weekend morning.

First, she finds that he’s made breakfast already. Not for them, just for himself. Nothing for her. Selfish bastard.

Second, he made himself a full English too. Having left the rest of the eggs and sausages out of the fridge. The milk too even though he KNOWS she hates when he does that.

Third, he’s left a mess of pans and utensils on the kitchen stove… Which means she can’t even cook herself breakfast if she wanted to.

Fourth, the water kettle is not full enough for her to make herself a cuppa. In fact, the water in it is already lukewarm, even if there was enough to make herself one, she still couldn’t.

And fifth, John is sitting outside in the balcony, getting some sun, while only wearing a pair of jeans, showing off his strong torso and bulging arms to the whole neighborhood. Like a bloody tart.

Oh… Kathleen. is. pissed.

“JONATHAN. WILLIAM. PRICE!” She calls out at the top of her lungs as she whips the sliding glass door open and coming face to face with the man of the hour.

“Morning, Kat.” John greets her, completely calm and collected as he looks up at her, leaning his elbow lazily on the table next to him, which holds his empty breakfast plate and cutlery. 

He’s lounging without a care in the world, a grey wool sweater across his lap, and a mug of tea in his hand.

“Morning my arse! Did’ya see the mess you left in the kitchen?!” She asks him pointedly, brown eyes wide as she glares pure daggers at him.

Unfortunately for her, her raising her voice and her stern glares do little to him now, four years into their relationship, one into their marriage. He’s gotten used to them.

“Calm your tits, woman, I’m going to clean it after I’m done here.” He replies nonchalantly as he gestures vaguely. “Can’t I have a moment’s peace?”

“Oh, you want a moment’s peace, do ya?” She asks him as she crosses her arms over her chest, dipping her head to the side. “When do I get a moment’s peace, hm? When do I get a bloody weekend when I wake up and there’s not a mess to clean or with my breakfast made for me?” She asks with a cocked brow.

John shifts around in “I let you sleep in. Didn’t make any noise. You chose to get up right now. Could've stayed asleep and you would've woken up to clean dishes.” He remaked with a shrug.

“Ex-cuse me?” Kathleen asked pointedly as she stared at him. 

“You heard me. You’re getting an attitude for no reason, da’ling.” John remarked as he finished gulping down his tea.

Kathleen wanted to yell at him some more. She really wanted to. The man drove her insane, especially when he was like this… Correct.

“Don’t you gaslight me, Jonathan. I have a right to want to wake up to a clean house and some food made for me!” She retorted, grasping at straws for something to justify her anger.

“And this is after you complained I never make breakfast the way you like it?” He retorted as he looked her up and down before standing up, gathering his plate, cutlery and empty cup of tea.

“You-!” She sputtered a bit as she looked up at her husband, who gently moved her aside so he could slip past her back inside the house. “I- You-!” She continued as she followed after him.

”Face it, Kat, you have no leg to stand on, da’lin’.” John remarked as he entered the kitchen.

“Don’t you bloody walk away from me!” She raised her voice and suddenly shoved him from behind. It caused his empty cup of tea to roll of its perch atop the dirty plate he was carrying and shatter into a million pieces on the hardwood floor. 

John stopped in his tracks as soon as the cup fell, so as to not step on the shards and turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Was that fuckin’ necessary, da’lin’?”

“Yes.” Kathleen replied with a bite to her tone as she stared up into his eyes, holding her ground even as he turned and stood over her.

“Really? What’d I do to deserve that push, hm?” He asked her as he dipped his head to the side, blue eyes trailing over the form of his wife beneath him, wrapped in a silken robe that wrapped beautifully around her full figure.

Meanwhile, Kathleen’s brown eyes were glued to her husband’s figure too, trailing over the strong neck, broad shoulders, muscular pecs, soft stomach, and the abundant hair that covered it. 

“You- You were sitting outside like a bloody tart, showin’ off for the bloody neighbors!” She suddenly said as her eyes shot up to look at him, having found something to grasp on to yell at him some more.

John’s eyebrows raised, his lips morphed into a smirk and he gave her a mocking look, his nose scrunching up a bit. “Is that what this is, da’lin’? You’re jealous?” He asked her condescendingly.

“Oh piss off, John, I’m not jealous!” She retorted pointedly as she glared at him.

“Right…” John asked as he took a step over her. “Then why are you complaining about me being shirtless, then?” He teased her as one of his hands moved to grasp her around the chin, squeezing her face lightly.

“I-” Kathleen tried to defend herself, having already realized that today just wasn’t one of her days when it came to having a sharp tongue. So she did what she could, ever competitive she was, wasn’t going to take the disrespect lying down.

Grabbing his forearm, she ripped his hand off her face, then, took the plate off his other hand, and threw it across the living room blindly, hearing it shatter somewhere, probably against the bookshelf by the TV.

“Fuck. You. John Price. I’m sick and tired of your bloody attitude.” She pointed a finger in his face and then poked him on the chest. “You think you can walk around here as you wish, as if you’re in bloody charge? I think the fuck not!” She scolded him.

John didn’t even flinch at her poking him, or the plate being hurled across the room. He was used to this. Used to her. Hell, it turned him on when Kathleen was being a cunt to him.

John reached forward and grabbed her by her right forearm, pulling her against him. “Yeah? Then who’s in charge, da’lin’?” He challenged as he looked down his nose at her.

“It sure as hell isn’t you!” She retorted, her voice, much like her hackles, raised, even if she didn’t try, at all, to pull away from him. She wasn’t afraid of John. Never had been, never would be.

“Let’s see about that then.” John told her as he pulled her over to the living couch, spun her away from him and bent her over the armchair.

Kathleen squeaked softly, knowing well what was coming, as John pinned her wrists behind her back with one hand, the other rolling up her robe to expose her thighs and her ass.

“Who’s in charge, hm?” John goaded her before he whipped his hand back and delivered a hard smack to one of her round ass cheeks, causing it to ripple, a moan falling from her parted lips.

“Not. You.” She replied, huffing a moan again when he delivered a second smack to her ass. “Fuck. You. John.” She grunted through her teeth.

“What’d you say, da’lin’?” John asked as he leaned close to her ear. “Did you just tell me to go fuck myself?” He teased, watching as she fruitlessly writhed over the armrest, her head buried down in the couch cushion, her hands and arms struggling in his grip.

She rolled her head to the side so she could catch him through the corner of her eye. “Yes, I fucking did. And I’ll say it again. Fuck you, John.” She spat at him.

“Tsk-tsk. Brat.” John mused with a smirk on his lips. She could hear it. Then he smacked her again, and again, always making sure to strike the same spot, her skin already redening and blushing as the skin warmed up and the blood vessels popped below it.

John only gave her a break once the dulcets of her voice had softened and her moans had become whimpers, her arms and hands having gone limp in his grasp. “Who’s in charge, Kat?” He checked as he looked at her with a satisfied smirk on his lips.

Kathleen’s brown eyes caught his, her face just as red as her ass, her eyes widened, pupils blown from lust. “Fuck. You.” She gritted through her teeth.

“Oh, that wasn’t enough was it, sweet’art?” He goaded again. “Very well.” He added. John’s hand grabbed hold of the waist band of her panties and pulled them down swiftly, noting the wet spot she had already left in them. 

“Someone’s enjoying being spanked huh, you brat? Someone likes having an attitude adjustment…” He goaded as he let go of her panties, letting them fall around her ankles.

Before Kathleen could even retort properly, John’s rough and calloused fingers delivered a slap to her puffy cunt, causing her to squirm and squeal, her legs straightening up and trembling. 

“John!” She cried out as he continued repeatedly slapping her pussy, causing her to squirm and writhe against the hard material of the armrest below her. 

“That’s it, call my name, da’lin’.” He goaded as he kept repeatedly and continuously smacking her warm, wet folds. “Who’s in charge, here, huh?”

“F-Fuck… You!” She spat at him, as she finally freed her arms from John’s weakened grip. Then, she threw an elbow back, hitting her husband squarely in the nose.

“Ah, you cunt!” John complained as he suddenly stumbled back back, one hand shooting up to cup his now bleeding nose, while Kathleen suddenly rolled off her perch on the couch.

“No, you’re the cunt!” She retorted before suddenly lunging herself at him, throwing her whole weight on top of John, who, not expecting it, landed on the floor with a hard thud.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat!” John replied as he tried to get a grab at his wife, instead, only getting her trying to grip him by the arms and pin him to the floor.

She struggled with it, of course, she might have some military training, but not nearly enough to fight him, and definitely not enough strength to fight him.

His forearms bulged under her hands, the rough skin prickling with goosebumps, the adrenaline flowing through his veins, as well as hers, the both of them desperate to fight the other.

John bucked his hips and rolled them over before she could even attempt a proper pin down, landing her on the floor with a thud and a huff from her lungs.

He grabbed her by the hair with one hand, the other gripping her wrists together and pining her to the floor instead. 

Kathleen wrapped her legs around his hip and attempted to roll them over again, unsuccessfully, so, instead, she did the only thing she could do. She leaned up and spat in John’s face.

John’s eyes closed for a moment and his jaw clenched before they opened again, looking even more angry and… horny than before. “Is that how it’s going to be, Kathleen?” He asked her as he let go of her hair and used his hand to collect the spit off his skin. 

“Yeah, it is-” She barely had time to continue before he was plugging her mouth with his fingers, causing her to swallow them and her own saliva back up, pressing down on his tongue, preventing her from continuing her tirade.

“Keep your smart-ass gob shut, sweetheart, or you won't have a fuckin' jaw to move when I'm done wit ya.” He told her, eyes locked on hers. Kathleen looked up at him, eyes widened, pupils blown, before she wrapped her lips around his fingers, beginning to give him a suck.

“That’s it…” He told her. “You look so much better with your mouth shut…” He goaded her with a smirk on his lips. Kathleen’s eyes sparkled with mischief at his comment, a clear sign that she felt challenged by his condescending tone… So, she bit down onto his fingers as hard as he could.

“Fuckin’ ‘ell, Kat…” John hissed as he pushed his fingers deeper in her mouth like one would a dog, causing her to sputter and choke, and forcing her to let go of them, allowing him to pull them back out.

“C’mere.” He demanded and grabbed her jaw with tight fingers, forcing her mouth to open, before he swished his tongue inside his own mouth to collect some saliva, before spitting it into her mouth. “Swallow.” He demanded and, for once, she obeyed. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Kathleen then squeaked in surprise as he pulled open her robe, leaving it splayed open on the hardwood floor before he grabbed one of her legs, pushing it up against her chest while he sat over the other one.

“We need to adjust that fuckin’ attitude of yours. It’s way too bloody early for you to be fightin’ me, you hear?!” He taunted her as he undid the fly in his jeans and shimmied both his the trousers and boxer briefs down, allowing him to pull out his hardened cock.

“Fuck you, John.” She retorted as she squirmed a bit beneath him, trying to drag herself away with the help of her elbows.

“That’s what I’m about to do to you, sweetheart.” He taunted her before he quickly grabbed hold of her again, using one hand to push her down against the floor, one hand wrapped around her jaw and neck, while the other wrapped around his cock and used it to brush his leaky tip against her folds.

“John-” Kathleen grumbled as she wrapped her own hands around his hairy forearm, nails digging into his flexed muscle, dragging drown his skin.

“Sh-Shhh…”  He murmured before he drove his cock deep into her cunt, causing her to huff and moan, her head falling back as he plunged as far as he could.

“That’s my girl…” He teased her. He shifted around and lifted her other leg too, pushing it forward against her chest, allowing him to sink in deeper, before he started thrusting his hips down into her.

Her warm walls spread open to accommodate him, his cock making way inside fully with each snap of his hips. “That’s it… That’s what you needed, isn’t it?” He goaded her with a smirk. Unluckily for her, Kathleen could do little more than nod in agreement.

“Tell me you love me, da’lin’...” John cooed at his wife as he pounded deep into her, reaching that spot in her walls that only John had ever been able to reach.

“I love y-oooh…” Kathleen murmured, being cut off by a sudden shift in his demeanor, a more aggressive, ruthless rhythm coming into place, his hips snapping punishingly against hers, his cock bottoming out in her.

“That’s it, Kat, tell me you love me… Tell me you love me…” He repeated over and over. “Tell me you love me and my cock inside you, da’lin’... Tell me…”

“I love you, John…” Kathleen whined, her head rolling back on the hard floor, her arms wrapping around his neck and shoulders, fingers digging into the flesh spot between his shoulder blades, her nails just barely grazing the tattoo on his nape.

“You’re such a fuckin’ cunt, Kat… Such a fuckin’ cunt… But I love you so much…” John murmured before he pressed his lips into hers in a sloppy, wet kiss.

[poppy-metal]

Ok but champagne problems - how do they bring reader home? who breaks first? I also need to know how/where Pat fits into all of it shdbhssjakk I'm sorry I'm just a sucker for reader getting saved kfjsuajsbshsksmsm

art probably makes the first move - surprisingly. you and tashi are both annoyingly stubborn. even though its obvious you want to be back with them and tashi wants you back - and art does too. he thinks he took too much of a passive role in the relationship. its fine when its just him and tashi - but you'd always needed to shown through action. words were nice, too.

its the first big selfish move he makes - because he misses you too. he's angry at you for the mess you've made of things - but he misses you. he doesn't have a plan though, not really. tashi was always better at those.

you probably end up sleeping together. for the first time just being the two of you alone. he finds you at a bar - or you call him after a fight with your husband because you know he'll be more clinical with you than tashi. he won't ask questions or demand vengeance. you know he hates you, he doesn't love you. but he'll buy you a hotel room because tashi would want him too. you'd buy one yourself but your husband has hold of all your credit cards. you'd use your fathers emergency debit card but the transaction would show and he'd have questions. you just want it to be quick and easy. you and art don't even have to talk to eachother. without tashi there, you doubt he'll say a word to you at all.

you're wrong, though. art does show up - but he's not the stoic silent wall of ice you expect him to be. he wants to talk to you, he says. he has things hes been meaning to tell you for a long time.

"i dont like him." he tells you when he's driving you in his car to the hotel. you dont get his angle. you tell him your husband is fine, you're just having a rought patch and you want some space. "you dont love him." and you dont like that he's suddenly in your business. telling you what you feel.

"you don't know me." you end up telling him, when you've argued the whole way up the elevator, going back and forth on what you feel, apparently. "you dont even like me, art. you're only here because of tashi."

and he stops. looks at you. runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head because you frustrate him so fucking much. you always have. he doesn't know why tashi let you get away with so much. she wouldn't let him, that's for sure. but you'd always poked at a tender spot for his wife. he used to resent that - he thinks it was just jealousy, though. jealousy of how you spoke your mind. went after what you wanted. even if you were a brat about it.

arts always been muted. he doesn't let himself feel things too strongly because hes afraid of how the people he cares about will view him. but he cares about you, and obviously you need to hear him.

he kisses you. he kisses you and kisses you and kisses you and he backs you up into the hotel room he bought you and this isn't how he'd thought about this going - when he thought about trying to bring you back into his and tashi's life - it was much more thought out. he's acting on instinct, though. and you're kissing him back, anyway.

his wedding ring snags on a strand of your hair when he cups your face and the reminder that tashi isn't here isn't the deterrent it would have been a year ago. he doesn't think tashi would be mad about this - probably she'd just want to know the details. he'll remember them.

arts different without tashi's guidance - more eager - more desperate - the way he grips you, holds you, yanks your tights down to then duck between your legs and eat at you like a man starved - you dont think you've ever felt more desired by him than you do right now. because you know this is what he wants. that hes doing it for him.

the way he groans into your cunt - licks and savors you - plunging his tongue inside - its like hes ravenous for you.

"tell me you dont want him," he says when he's pressed against your entrance - teasing you with the barest nudge of his cock inside. he's glaring down at you almost. holding your legs spread open and wide for him -

you gasp, arching up. "but hes my husband -"

"i dont care." art bullies another inch into you. "tell me who you really want to fuck you."

he slips his head in - rocks it in and out in agonizing rolls of his hips - but doesn't feed you anything else. keeps you pinned down under him even as you squirm and whine for it. hes more like tashi than he probably thinks. this possessive streak is making your pussy tighten, you want to draw him all the way inside you. you need it. you've been without it for so long. the shape of his cock in your cunt, it filling you, you missed it so bad. you dont want to have to pretend anymore.

"you." you pant. your toes curl by his head when he sinks another inch. god, hes so big. "i want you to fuck me art -"

you cut off with a groan when he pushes fully inside. his pelvis meeting your clit. you wrap your legs around his waist, draw him to you. you kiss again, messy and sloppy and he moans into your mouth, "fuck - you feel so good." he rains kisses all down your throat as he starts moving his hips. "missed how you - how your little pussy squeezes me - "

you missed his cock, you think you moan. you dont know. your mind kind of fuzzes out after that, his hips slap against yours and you're lost in it. you haven't felt this good, this whole, in a year - since you left - you rake your nails down his back to mark yourself there. stake some sort of claim and he grunts. fucks you even harder.

you don't know what you'll do when you're thinking more clearly. you just want to feel good again.

[pedroshotwifey]

To The Flame chapter 11

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark Javier Peña x Fem!reader

Chapter word count: 3.9k

Chapter tags/warnings: angst, toxic relationship, fighting, manipulation, mental and physical abuse, major anxiety/panic attacks, chronic overthinking, controlling behavior, unhealthy idolization, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: WAKALA!!

A/N: Welcome to the deep, babes. Get comfy because we're not coming back up :)

*****

You wake up to a cold bed. Again.

You get up quick, whipping your head around the room and trying to find your husband, who you know for a fact has the weekend off. When you find he’s not in your bedroom, you check the bathroom, then the hall, and every room until you’re sure you’re left in an empty apartment. 

He’s not here, which means you’re left alone again in your much too quiet apartment. It’s been a long week for you; all your time spent renovating the apartment with nobody to talk to. You’ve been looking forward to him just being home for the day almost as much as you had been looking forward to your forgotten date last night. 

That pang of hurt that had fallen asleep cradled in your chest last night comes back full force. You quickly push it down as you try to rationalize your thoughts. Maybe he’s out getting breakfast, or maybe he forgot something at the embassy. He could be picking something up from the hardware shop in town. 

You fold your arms around your torso and glance at the clock, scratching the breakfast idea upon seeing it’s about 11:30am. Wherever he is, you just wish he would have told you where he was going beforehand—or at least that he was going to go somewhere in the first place. You scan around the apartment one more time, checking every surface for a note, but come up empty. 

That’s fine, you tell yourself. You’re sure he’ll be back soon. You decide to get ready for the day and brush it off as much as you can. 

Back in your bedroom, you pull out a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before brushing your teeth and pulling them both on. You try not to glance at Javi’s side of the closet as you dress. Some part of you is almost angry at him for leaving like this, which only serves to make you feel guilty. It’s not like he’s doing anything wrong. He’s a grown man who can make his own decisions. You’re not his mom. 

You decide after a cup of coffee that you’ll work on getting the stains out of the hardwood today. It’s a strenuous job, but it’ll keep you from brewing while you wait for your husband to get home. A bucket and scrub bush later, you’re kneeling on the living room floor, sudsing up one of the sections that had been hidden by a rug. 

You try to keep your mind off of him as you work, knowing you’ll just get fired up if you keep feeding yourself annoyances. It half works. You honestly just can’t shake that sadness at the fact that he did indeed leave you alone. It may be selfish, but you just don’t understand why he would want to go anywhere when he’s finally getting a day to be with you. 

But by the time you’re done with the apartment, the floors spotless and you drenched in sweat four hours later, he’s not back. You hadn’t even realized how long you’d been working for, a ball of worry now dropping low into your stomach. There’s no reason he should be gone this long on his day off. Surely he would have told you first even if he was, right?

You sit on the drying floor for a few moments, chewing your lip as you contemplate your next step. It doesn’t settle well with you, but you decide you’ll clean this mess, then get a shower and prepare dinner, and if he’s not back by then, you’ll make some calls.

There’s still a hollow spot in your stomach as you shower, and it only grows once you step out to find that he’s still not back. But you tell yourself to calm the fuck down, and go prepare dinner anyway. If he did go to work, he probably wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours anyway. 

It’s a task to ignore your gut as you get dinner ready, unsure if it’s good or bad that it’s one of the most time-consuming meals to make. You make the dough, wash and cut your ingredients, make the filling, and put it all together in a flurry of anxiety and building dread. 

You swear your lip has bruises on it from how hard you’ve been biting it as you work. Awful thoughts run through you as you clean up and put the dish in the fridge for later. Thoughts of him stuck somewhere without help, of him wounded or—

You blanch just at the thought of that, nausea rolling not just through your stomach, but wracking your entire body. He’s told before how dangerous his job is, how much more he’ll be working in person to down criminals here in Colombia. What if he didn’t have backup? What if he was taken? But he shouldn’t even be at work today…

You can’t even fathom the thought of him one day not coming back to you. Just ceasing to exist one day and leaving you alone again. How would you survive without him? Without his love? Without loving him in return? 

Your hand comes up to cover your mouth as you will yourself to take steadying breaths, not realizing how much you’ve started shaking. You look at the clock. It’s almost  8:30pm. He’s been gone for at least eight or nine hours now. 

That’s it, you’re calling the embassy. Javi had told you not to unless it’s an emergency, but you would consider this such. You storm into the living room and dial with shaky hands, trying to keep down your anxiety. You lift the receiver and bite your nails as you listen to it ring. And ring. And ring. You curse and try again, only for the phone to go unanswered again. 

You groan in frustration and slam the receiver back, hot tears springing to your eyes as the panic within you starts to rise. You’ll just have to go down there. You know Javi wouldn’t want you to do that, but what the hell else are you supposed to do? You can’t take the risk of not doing anything if it turns out he’s missing—or worse. 

You hurry back to the bedroom and tug a coat from the closet, throwing it on and heading to the hall to shove your shoes on, remembering that you haven’t yet explored the city. Hopefully you’ll be able to find your way based on memory. 

Just as you’re about to reach for the doorknob, it turns. Your stomach churns and you feel the urge to throw up again as your worry somehow both increases and dulls for different reasons. You step back as the door opens to reveal Javi, a bit tired looking but uninjured. 

You don’t give him a single second before you thrust yourself into his arms, babbling into his chest and trying to stop your tears that suddenly stream down your cheeks. You hadn’t realized how worked up you had gotten. His arms wrap around you and he takes a few steps to lead you back through the doorway and closes the door behind you. 

“Woah, sweetheart, slow down for me,” he tries to sooth you though his own voice is a bit frantic. “Tell me what’s going on, honey.” 

You back away from him just enough to get some semblance of your thoughts back in order. He looks extremely worried, his hands moving to lift your arms one at a time and then your chin, assessing you for any injuries. 

“I d-didn’t know where you were,” you start, watching him carefully. “I woke up and you were gone even though it’s the weekend and I waited all day because I thought you would be here and you didn’t come back so I called your work because I thought you were hurt or—” 

You’re lucky you run out of breath because your choked sob would have stopped you otherwise. You cover your eyes and take a deep but ragged breath. Javi’s hands quickly come to your wrists, trying to gently tug them away. When your hands are back down with his, you see him kneeling before you, his own eyes laced with worry. 

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I got called in while you were still asleep and I didn’t realize how long I’d be there for. I—” 

He stops as he takes in your entire outfit for apparently the first time since he got here. His brows furrow and you sniffle. His gaze comes back up to you after, his eyes cold now. It makes you rear back a bit, putting a few more inches between the two of you. He stands and watches as your expression turns to one of confusion. 

“Javi? Wha–” 

“Where the hell were you going?” He bites it out quick, his tone more demanding than you’ve heard before. Your face scrunches up slightly, a bit of anger ebbing into your previous anxiety. That’s what he wants to talk about? Your mood changes so quick it almost gives you whiplash, all other emotions siphoning into anger and agitation. He doesn’t get to disappear all day and then come home and question you.

“I was coming to find you,” you tell him, stepping toward him as if to dare him to use that tone again, though your tone was just as harsh. A muscle ticks in his jaw. 

“Why the hell would you do that?” 

You gape at him. Is he being serious? 

“I was worried sick! You really think I’m supposed to just wait around while you could have been dead in an alley somewh—” 

“Yes, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do,” he counters with a steely voice. 

You don’t even know what to say to that.

“You were gone all day, are you really going to fucking grill me right now? You didn’t even leave me a note and the embassy didn’t pick up. How am I supposed to know you were actually at work?” You know that your anger is coming out of seemingly nowhere, but after stewing in your anxiety all day, it’s not hard to provoke you. You also know that last accusation was a low blow, and you regret it as soon as it’s out of your mouth.

“You know you shouldn’t be going out without me,” he bites, luckily choosing to ignore that last quip. You can feel his own temper rising, and it does nothing but increase your own. He’s not winning this, not after his stunt today. 

“I can go out if I want to go out,” you spit, crossing your arms. 

He lets out a warning chuckle, shaking his head. “ Not here you can’t, you fucking know that.” 

“Yes I damn well can! You don’t own me, I’m not just going to stay stuck in the apartment all day and night every day of the year!”

You can feel the tension rising between the two of you, but you don’t back down. There’s fury simmering deep, and you’re not about to agree to playing rapunzel for much longer. 

“Will you just fucking drop it? It’s for your own good!”

It’s making you sick, how quickly this is turning into something bigger, but you can’t stop even though your brain is screaming to let it go. 

“No, I won’t ‘just fucking drop it’, Javi! I’m not some dog you can just keep at home while you go out and do whatever!” 

He takes a step toward you, warning clear in the hardness of his eyes and the clench of his jaw. 

“I don’t understand why you’re making this such an issue, I’m trying to keep you safe,” he growls. “Do you not get that it’s dangerous here? You could be kidnapped, killed, raped.” 

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t have brought us here!” you cry, taking a step towards him as well. “I’m sick of not having any freedom!” It’s true; you’ve missed being able to go out, but you haven’t brought it up until now. You’d assumed it would change within the next few weeks, but it doesn’t sound now like that would have been super likely. 

“Oh is that what it is? You’re a slave now?” 

You rub your eyes and groan exasperatedly, getting more and more frustrated. Every bit of annoyance you’ve ignored from the last couple of months is starting to stir together in your head. 

“That’s not what I fucking said! I’m just tired of not being able to do what I want.” 

You realize right after you say it how childish that sounds, but you stand up straighter and look hard into his eyes as you ignore the impulse to wince.  

Javi lifts his arms and looks around pointedly. 

“You have plenty of shit to do here! I bring you whatever you want, but no, it’s not good enough is it?” 

You’ve never heard him speak this way; not to you or anyone else. It immediately brings tears to your eyes. You again feel like you’re acting like a child, and it frustrates you beyond comprehension. Does he really feel like you’re that much of an annoyance? 

“God damn it, Javi, stop putting words in my mouth!” You get closer to him, putting an accusing finger on his chest as you look into his eyes to try to get your point across. “I have nothing here right now, I feel fucking lonely,” you choke back a sob at the admission. “Most of my shit was left in Texas and now you’re not even around anymore to keep me company. I can’t call my sister and I don’t have any friends. I’m tired of being so alone.” 

Javi bites his cheek, nodding at you. “Well then maybe you shouldn’t have fucking come with me.” 

The ache in your chest spreads, pieces of you cracking with each word that comes from his mouth . You don’t want to believe it’s real. This is Javi. Your Javi. Why are you fighting? What’s happening? You want it to end, but your mouth moves too quickly for you to stop it. You’re too heated to have any kind of effect on the retorts slipping so easily off your tongue. He’s making it sound like he can care less if you were with him or not. Like he doesn’t need you like you need him. It hurts. 

But even so, you still take the bait. “Yeah, maybe I shouldn’t have.” The words hurt coming out, but you don’t take them back.

He puts his hands on his hips and backs away, laughing exasperatedly at you. “You’re acting like a spoiled fucking brat. Everything I’ve done is to make you happy, and it’s still not enough.” He looks down at you with what could be called disdain, and you suddenly want to break down as a shameful feeling embeds itself somewhere deep inside of you. He looks angry, more angry than you’ve ever seen him before. “You’re acting like you’re stuck with me, when I’m the one who married you to get you out of your damn house for being a slut!” 

Your eyes widen and your body trembles as the blood drains from your face. What did he just say? It suddenly feels like you’re floating, everything around you disappearing until it’s only you and Javi left.

“W-what?” your voice is weak as you struggle to even get the word out through your gasps for breath. It feels like your heart is crumbling, a sudden ringing in your ears being the only distraction from it. Tears fall from your eyes, blurring your vision even as you try to blink them away. You don’t understand. Javi would never say something like that to you. 

He looks for a moment like he’s going to apologize, scoop you up in his arms and beg you to forgive him. You can see it in the way regret flashes across his face, softening his gaze and making his lips part like he just realized what he said. But then he steels himself, stands up straight, and crosses his arms. 

“You heard me. It’s your own damn fault.” 

You watch him, your body now tensing with a pain beyond physical. You want to fucking scream at all of the emotions tearing you apart from the inside. You’re on the brink of a panic attack, your head going light as you try to understand what’s really happening. You almost startle when you hear a voice, only to realize it belongs to you. 

“N-no, I-” It’s not your fault, it can’t be. You look down to the floor, mouth gaping as you try to find something to say. When you look back up, all remorse is gone from Javi’s expression. It flips something within you, and before you can stop it, you're rushing to him, tears of pain and frustration turning to those of unabashed anger. 

“Fuck you! I fucking hate you!” You practically scream the words as your fists pound on his chest. 

He grabs onto you, yelling something that sounds like “stop”, but you can’t hear properly through the fog that’s taken over your brain. All you can focus on is deflecting these emotions that have welled up inside you, the ache in your chest. He shoves you, and you falter but keep going. You want to crawl somewhere and hide for a long fucking time. 

And you know as soon as it happens, that you messed up. A sting radiates across your cheek, and your vision blurs for a reason other than tears. All the air leaves your lungs and your legs turn to jelly as you descend to the floor. 

You almost don’t understand how you got there until you look up and see Javi standing above you, heaving with his hand still raised. He’s positively fuming, watching you with a fiery rage.

Regret takes over you immediately. You did do this. You made him hit you. He would never do that if he didn’t have to. You were hurting him and… Your cheek begins to pound and you bring a hand up to feel it, only to flinch away when your fingers make contact with the sensitive flesh.

Javi watches you for another second, and then turns his back, making you spring into action even though you’re still in a terrible daze. The scared leap of your heart is enough to get you up. 

“No, no, no, I’m sorry, wait, please–” 

You’re still crying and sniffling as you crawl part way and then stumble to your feet to catch him before he goes. He already has one hand on the doorknob, keys in hand when you reach him and he stops. 

“Javi, please, I didn’t mean it, I—please don’t leave, I’m sorry!” You’re in hysterics as you grab onto him, waiting for him to wrap his arms around you and forgive you for being so immature. But he just stands there, letting you sob into the same chest you’d been hitting seconds earlier. 

You’re shaking violently as your body wracks with your tears, feeling nauseous from the whole situation you just created. You don’t know how long you stand there before he finally reciprocates your affection and pulls you closer. He cups the back of your head to him and gently rubs your back, shushing you quietly. 

“Shh, I know baby,” he coos, his voice a stark opposite from the one that spat those hurtful words just minutes earlier. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” 

Your relief is immediate, your sobbing settling as you can finally get a calming breath back in. 

He forgives you. It’s okay. He forgives you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper anyway, the words echoing in your empty head as your mouth moves of its own accord.

“I know, sweetheart,” he whispers back, ducking his head down to plant a kiss on yours. “It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it.”

You nod, more for yourself than for him. It’s only now that you can feel the exhaustion seeping in, the fighting and crying having taken a lot out of you. 

“Can we go to bed, please?” You ask in a voice that’s barely audible. Everything feels fake right now, it’s a strange sensation, almost as if you’re in a dream. It all feels so overwhelming. Not just the emotions, but the lighting and the bright colors around you. The feeling of Javi’s shirt against your cheek as you cling to him. 

Javi says nothing but carefully scoops you up to carry you to the bedroom. When he sets you back down, you close your eyes and let him undress you until you’re left in your panties, and then he helps you lay down. 

You get comfortable, making sure not to lay on your numb and throbbing cheek. He crawls in a moment after you, clad in his boxers. He turns the bedside lamp off and then pulls you to him, letting you cuddle up into his side and place your head on his chest. 

You lay there with him for a moment, your eyes stinging even in the dark as you try not to think about how different the outcome could have been. You’re so lucky that he didn’t leave you all alone after what you did. He stayed and comforted you, even after you’d taken him for granted and treated him so terribly. 

“I’m sorry,” you can’t help but say again, your voice hoarse and small. “I love you.” There are still tears crawling down your face, but they feel thin, like you’re about to be out. 

Javi holds you tighter and whispers back to you in the dark. “I know, baby. I love you too.” 

He loves you. It’s okay. 

There’s another few minutes of silence where you contemplate a risky question. You’re sure Javi probably thinks you’re asleep by now, but your mind doesn’t rest that easily. You just need to make sure he’s not at all mad at you anymore; you know you won’t be able to fall asleep without knowing, that you’ll fall back into a panic if you don’t make sure things are as perfect as they can be. You need things to be normal.

You weigh the possibilities of his reaction, and then decide to take a chance by asking anyway. You make sure to use your sweetest voice as you do so, just in case. 

“Javi?” 

There’s a beat of silence. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

You swallow before biting the bullet. 

“Will you still take me on our date? Since you’ll be with me…” 

You hear him mutter a quiet curse, but you can tell it’s not out of anger for you, but the realization that he had forgotten all about it. 

“Yes, carino. I’ll take you on your date.” His voice is warmer now, relaxed.

You smile in the dark, the last of your panic simmering into nothing with the reassurance that you’re forgiven. 

“Go to sleep now, I promise I’ll be here in the morning.” One of his hands comes up to pet your hair, soothing you in a way that you need right now. 

He loves you. It’s okay. You’re okay.

You nod lightly and let your slightly-puffy eyelids flutter shut, allowing yourself to relax as you whisper another ‘I love you’. You fall asleep within the next few minutes, comforted by the rise and fall of his chest, the weight of his gentle hand, and the knowledge that you didn’t ruin it all. 

*****

I would love some feedback on this one to see where we're at! I love you all and I hope this chapter met your expectations 💕

As usual, the taglist is always open! lmk if you would like to be put on or taken off! <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @melaninmommy @survivingandenduring @kewwrites @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff  @callachloe @missladym1981 @sofiparallel @koshkaj-blog @sheepdogchick3 @movievillainess721 @jessie8605 @casa-boiardi @justlulu @iamsherlocked-1998 @hjzghi-blog

[pinkexpertnerdghost]

An analysis on Pavia from Reverse1999 (Alternative Title: Me yapping about Pavia's backstory and making headcanons/personal interpretation based on the crumbs of lore we get 😭)

I recently thought about this. I've been grinding in this game cause it's so pretty and the voice acting is delicious. That's my own opinion though. And I want to write this down because It will consume me of I don't.

So all you Pavia stans and fans, this one is for y'all since there is only a handful of stuff about him online.😭🥹

So if any players main/use Pavia a lot and build up Bond with him we get his backstory and more voiclines. And spoiler, in Pavia's second character story, it mentions how he was literally abused/neglected from his legal guardian (bitch-ass aunt) because according to her, he looked closely resembling her mother(aunt's sis).

Also that, the aunts sister (Pavia's mum) is apparently dead??? But present Pavia states She's in "an asylum in Rome in probably her middle ages" and "he's never visited her".

So...does he believe she's still alive? Or did the aunt tell him that his mother was just 'insane' and 'unwell' that she was sent to an asylum and was the reason he was under her care? Never informing her own nephew about the passing of his mother?? Cause man.....that's kind of messed up if so. 🫠😶

I'll assume that Pavia's mom, being a single parent since the dad was 'missing', felt overwhelmed or inadequate to be a mom and left him with her sister (the aunt). Since the aunt described her sister as 'sorrowful' 'who abandoned her' and that she 'left behind her troublesome kid'.

I want to believe that Pavia's mom did love him. To some extent. She sang rhymes for him when he was probably a toddler (mentioned in one of his voice lines). She probably sang them so often to him that a grown Pavia can vaguely recall her lullabies. She probably thought that she really wasn't cut out to be a mom; he already had a 'missing' father, what can she do? Keep in mind that this is probably set in the late 70's or early 80's. And based on the societal steriotypes/stigmas, this reasoning seems plausible. And maybe thought that the best decision was to leave him in the care of her sister.

Or perhaps she was in a dangerous situation because she did apparently 'died a few years later' after "going into the city."

Was she in a tight situation? Was this perhaps linked to why Pavia's father was missing? Maybe the family was involved with a crime group or dangerous people? I find it suspect that his father was said to be missing, and that the mom died a few years later after dropping off her son with the aunt.

Going by the later assumption, could this have been a decision to protect her son? If so....it just makes Pavia's backstory and with the way his aunt treated him makes his story that much more tragic and unfair.

But back to the aunt.

The sister...now being tasked to look after a nephew who resembled her sad, irresponsible and 'selfish' sister, she confines him to a basement 24/7 to not look at him because of her personal issues/resentment towards his mother.

Pavia as a child calls out to her, fucking apologies for something he had no control over (his looks, his mom's decision), and is angry at this treatment. (Which honestly, fuck the aunt bro. Fuck Pavia's aunt bro, me and the homies hate Pavia's aunt. The kid did nothing wrong. Just because you resent his parents doesn't excuse the poor treatment you push onto the child. Your biological sister left him in your care and then later on died, the least you can do is provide for probably the only living relative you have left.)

Maybe this is linked to why Pavia has such a flamboyant and artistic style in appearance. Dyed white hair, but his natural dark roots are showing. Tinted glasses, to obscure his silver blue eyes and deep shades under his eyes. Random jewelry on his hands he doesn't really care for. The varies ink on him that make his skin a canvas. The cool ass piercings.

And while this could be a tactic to keep his identity a secret or untraceable for the authorities due to his job as an independent merc, just maybe..... he didn't want to be reminded of who he looked like whenever he looks at himself.

Maybe he didn't want to resemble his mother. It was because of his appearance that his aunt confined him to solitude. Something he had no control over, but as he got older....he gained control over how he looked and dressed. He never visits her in the asylum, she was the second person who abandoned him and the cause of his aunts hatred towards him. So....he probably has either a neutral or negative towards his mother.

In the basement, he develops a very unhealthy lifestyle; having no real concept of time, little sunlight, the sound of dripping water and pests constantly providing an uneasy atmosphere, but he develops his arcanum.

His imaginary friends, who watch over him and keep him warm. Since the humans who were supposed to do that, failed him so horribly.

His imaginary friends who bloomed from the darkest shadows of the basement due to his budding arcanum. Quiet literally.... byproducts of his own loneliness, perhaps yearning to be a part of a family, and strong arcanum.

He couldn't and wouldn't rely on any human, he had to fend for himself.

And because of this, he became an "independent mercenary" with a fatal flaw of " lacking in collaborative skills". He is good at what he does...but his employers "can't stand his work ethic of ignoring his coworkers". He comes across as having an unlikable personality and rudeness. He has a hard time getting along with other people. And honestly? Who can blame him. With the way he was raised...no wonder he doesn't like people in general.

But why should he? Why should he rely on people? His own biological family left him alone in that basement, he never developed any real friends as a child, he didn't get the chance to grow up like a normal child.

He had no one but he made it work. So why should he start to rely on people? For them to abandon him or betray him?

His former boss had planned to betray him, to kill him. So Pavia struck first, keeping only his tie clip as memorabilia.

Pavia is a lone wolf....as corny as that sounds. But he grew up alone, in a dark den. So close yet so far from human society, he made friends from the shadows that kept him company. That once lonely confinement didn't seem so lonely after a while, he grew to find comfort in his predicament.

Adapting and pushing ahead, finding a twisted sort of 'fun' 'excitment' and 'joy' in the most tragic and unfortunate circumstances; his job as a merc and the 'unsavory' nature of his job.

_______________________________________________

Pavia has become one of my favorite characters in media, despite the media he originates from having limited personal information about their playable characters.

But I think this is also a reason why he's so interesting to me. It leaves little crumbs and pieces of background that is mostly left to be assumed by the player's/reader's interpretation. It's fun to assume and make these little narratives and head cannons about them.

And the fact some parts of his story hit a wee bit close to home. Just a little though. I mean... it is unfair and so infuriating for a child to be antagonized or disliked by family just because they look more like one parent than the other.

But ye....this is just my own personal interpretation of this characters background. Mostly just me yapping and connecting the dots on silly head canons. I should write a one shot or series about this guy. He's such a goob.

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈’𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧 || 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: HERE || part two: through red emotions

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Joel and Ellie were your little family. Until life made them believe you abandoned them. Now, back in Jackson, seems like they’ll never forgive you. But by Halloween, you’re clean from them. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬_ Halloween themed, post-season 1 (Jackson era), asshole!Joel, mean!Ellie, sweetie pie!reader, lovers to enemies, angst, our baby reader is basically bullied by Ellie (luv her sorry), since I’m anemic, reader is anemic too (like in my series lol), mentions of poor health in general. 𝐀/𝐍_ in honor of 1989 TV coming, part 1 is clean, if this doesn’t flop, out of the woods is part two.

My Pedrito playlist || index (+ fics here) || bookstagram acc

The doors of Jackson rarely opened, besides when patrol happened. And when they did for another reason, two things usually happened: gossiping and big news.

Well, not always. But for most of the time, that’s how it worked. For Joel, it didn’t matter a lot. Ever since he came back to Jackson with Ellie, he had changed. Well, again, not a lot. He remained serious, reserved, and a man of few words. Except with Ellie, he hadn’t accepted it out loud, but he was some paternal figure to the kid.

And the maternal figure was long gone; You.

A young sweet woman who appeared in Kansas looking for medicines. Who made Ellie happier and safer until she gained Joel’s trust.

And who made him almost fall in love.

Almost, because you decided to abandon Ellie and ignore what Joel pleaded you to do; take Ellie to the Fireflies along Tommy the first time you three came to Jackson.

That night, Ellie cried and yelled at him, but she was beyond angry with you. She called you a liar, weak, selfish, and other hurtful things. Then Joel also let his rage out on you. He said a lot of things, but saying you weren’t brave, and that he should’ve never trusted you…that kept reminiscing in his head occasionally. Maybe he could’ve handled everything better, but that didn’t change anything.

The next morning, when you came to the stable to say goodbye, you left a mess of sobs and tears.

Two words finally shattered you; shameless coward.

And the two ignored something for months till the present; They never gave you the chance to explain what was happening.

When they came back, you were gone. Joel didn’t ask, and neither did Ellie. They both questioned it, especially the girl.Joel rarely thought about you. But when he did, he spent hours at it.

Questioning would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.

He missed you, but he wasn’t brave enough to admit it. Instant karma, he was a coward who couldn’t admit what he did in that Fireflies hospital, and he couldn’t accept how wrong he acted with you.

He didn’t feel that karma yet.

Until the doors of Jackson opened. And among some group of people, you came in.

Tommy knew everything. He even tried speaking with his older brother that snowy morning. But Joel didn’t want to hear your excuses from the mouth of Tommy.

With a simple glance from him, Joel was left alone as he saw his younger brother walk towards the group of people who had arrived. Some of the crowd came to greet the new visitors, Joel saw Maria helping you get down off the horse. And he finally was able to see you.

Time hadn’t passed across your face. You remained with a sweet and gentle smile. The very short hair you had now was a shock. Joel had been used to your long braid from every hard day you spent together. He remembered a night where you were cold and he offered to join him in his sleeping bag. You apologized for your braid getting in his way, but he said it was okay.

When did everything go wrong? 10 months and seeing you again made him feel strange.

There wasn’t time to think about Joel or Ellie when you arrived. To you, their present parade was unknown. So unknown, that you were in the same town as them once again.

“You didn’t answer our radio signals for months. We were so worried!” It’s the first thing Maria says. You can only smile and shrug.

“I’m really sorry. Jeremy and Lia lost connection in a little fight with infected, and they couldn’t risk anything” A lot had happened. And you felt so empowered from having the guts to leave for so long.

“Oh. God knows everything that happened out there, right?”

“We have a lot to talk about. Where’s Tommy?” You ask smiling. Then you make some minutes to appreciate how much the town had changed over seasons. The trees had turned orange, red and brown. The smell in the main entrance was like cinnamon and caramel apples. And there were a lot of fall decorations. When you turn back, Tommy Miller is there to greet you.

“Right here!” The man appears and you have to greet him with a hug.

“You look great, kid. So, did it work?” There’s a big wave of happiness that invades as soon as he asks.

“Yes, I’m free from it” the marriage sighs relieved.

“Guess it was worth it,” Maria says patting your shoulder.

“Take a rest now. We’ll talk about everything in dinner” you agree with Tommy.

You want to ask if he has heard something from Joel. If he succeeded with Ellie to go with the Fireflies. But you don’t. You’re not ready to hear if he found something. Whether it was a home, happiness, or a lover.

Cause although neither of you ever talked about it. You never confessed your feelings for him. He never showed a sign that he might have loved you back. So no, you were no fool to ask that question to Tommy. Same thing for Ellie. You never revealed you loved her like a sister or even a daughter. You never admitted that for many months. You had acted along with Joel and the girl like a little family.

No, it wasn’t acting. They had genuinely been your family.

But that era was over.

You made your choice. And you still believed you were right. There was only one mistake you made.

Revealing the news to them first and then never being able to share the cause of it. Breaking that little girl’s heart and letting down Joel. It still haunts you.

But the time to go over that was approaching.

…

It wasn’t snowing time yet. But the temperatures were about to drop significantly. Enough for a jacket and sweaters. There was a pair of heel boots you left in that little house Maria and Tommy offered you before leaving the town. So, it was time to show off that pair of boots and get going.

The way to the dinner hall was short. Some people greet you and ask how you’re doing now. It feels like rebirthing. Being able to have a second chance in life. But the memory of your little family gone and broken because of you makes you stop that little celebration of life early. Sometimes you wished you had chosen the right words.

Someone must be doing gravy. Because it smells like Thanksgiving, in the middle of October. Some people are in a little line to get warm punch with cinnamon and fruits. Your mouth waters and a smile appears on your face. You want to eat and laugh. You are eager to talk to Tommy and Maria.

The first couple with mercy who took the time to listen to you and help you.

An old woman who had been in the kitchen since you arrived for the first time smiles at you and asks you to grab a tray of food. When you turn to the right to have some food, you are literary punched in the face. At least that’s how it felt. Because that same night you had to encounter face to face with the two ghosts of your past; Joel and Ellie.

With you being static, they notice you finally.

Ellie shows clear shock, but soon she makes the sign of shock disappear from her face. Deep down, she wanted to hug you, she wanted to tell you everything that happened. But she refuses. Joel wasn’t ready to see you so close that soon. But he remains stoic as usual.

“Ellie…” you attempt to vocally recognize her.

She firmly holds her tray, empty, and somehow, she still looks angered at you. Which makes you nervous. And you don’t dare to look at Joel in the eyes, so you avoid it.

“You’re back…” she spits out. And you have some hope that she will be willing to listen to you.

“Yes. I had to go because-” she rolls her eyes.

“I didn’t say I cared, or I wanted to listen” That hurt a little. Ellie could be very tough, and you really had hoped she would try to talk.

“Oh…I-” but she stops you again.

“What? You thought we would be friends again? Let me remind you… YOU abandoned me and Joel!” The lump in your throat gets tighter, but you swallow it firmly.

“Please, I’ve never explained it” you suggest, but Ellie seems too proud and stubborn as usual.

“Oh, save it. We’ve been through enough shit to listen to you too” If Joel wanted, he would’ve scold her, but he didn’t. Which hurt you even more. The girl leaves her used tray in the dirty dishes and leaves.

You want to drop the tray when you finally eye Joel. He looks better. Same grey hairs in the same spots. You were so glad to see him healthy, but this wasn’t what you imagined it would be the first re-encounter.

“Joel-” you try to reason with him. He wants to savor the way you gently call him. It makes him remember all the good memories he made with you. All the nights you made him smile, when you annoyed him with Ellie, and the nights were he was able to hold you a little.

But that’s over. You are not a priority anymore. Just Ellie.

“She’s right, though” and just like that, he also left. Without even glancing at you, barely brushing your shoulder with his. It was cold… and it hurt like hell. The old lady at the counter smiles apologetically at you, and you smile back. She sees some tears rolling down your cheeks but doesn’t say anything.

…

A week passes between awkward exchanges. You are babysitting Tommy and Maria’s baby when Joel arrives to visit his brother. So, you had to leave early. You started working in the gardens, helping to harvest enough for the cold season. So, when kids would join once a week to help, Ellie would ignore you.

And when it was movie night, you were having fun until Ellie arrived with her new friends. Or when you were having a drink in the saloon and Joel had to be there. You catch him staring once in a while and it freaks you out.

You debate whether to write an apology letter or do something for them. Because you feel like you can’t be happy at all when things haven’t gone through makeup with them.

But it all comes down one afternoon.

The council of the town suggested having a Halloween celebration. With a costume party and pumpkin contest. So you needed extra help with the harvest. Maria had set up some people, including Joel and Ellie. It was a low key moment to have some opportunity to get you three together.

You were digging your hands in the dirt to take out carrots and green onions. There’s a little hat covering your head, and you have to use some tools to work.

Completely ignoring but highly aware of Joel and Tommy talking afar, continuously turning to look at you and then going back to talk. To be honest, that was the first day when you started getting tired of their mean attitudes toward you. Their mean glances, cold comments and sarcastic hints.

Some people left their baskets beside you so you could later wash the vegetables and take them to the kitchen.

And it was Ellie’s turn.

“Here’s the basket” she coldly says.

“Thanks, leave it here. And be careful, please” She noticed your cold tone attack back, and it surprised her. But also bothers her and makes her grow more stubborn.

“Whatever you say” Maybe Ellie didn’t mean to drop the basket so harshly. But she does, dropping all the vegetables and others from different baskets too.

“ELLIE! I told you to be careful!” A lot of people turn to look at you and the girl.

“I said I was sorry, stop fucking yelling.”

Joel appears beside her. Ready to fuck everything up even more.

“Hey! Don’t yell at her” When Joel raises his voice at you, you freeze.

“She’s a kid. You’re an adult” You know it’s enough when he continued.

“ENOUGH!” Finally, everyone’s attention is on you three again.

“Calm down, y/n” Tommy tries to calm you, but you won’t rest in peace till you yell back at them.

“NO. I’M SICK OF THESE TWO!” Ellie immediately regretted being so stubborn, she remembered you could also be as mean as her.

“How many times do I have to say it? I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t want to abandon you two.”

“And no. I’m not a selfish coward. Because I was diagnosed with anemia, and I was fucking dying. So, choosing to stay to fight for my life wasn’t being coward.” Neither of them expected it.

“I’m done with this psychological punishment or whatever this is!” You finally take the gardening gloves out, looking so enraged.

“…y/n” Joel calls you, knowing that he can’t startle you more.

“You don’t want me to yell at your bratty kid? Do it your fucking self, Joel” he’s taken aback by the way you push the gloves against his chest, passing past him and sprinting out.

The man sighs, holding the gloves and looking at Tommy, who only shrugs. Knowing that it would end up happening either way.

…

Joel learns a lot of things that night.

You started feeling sick a little before arriving in Jackson. You never tell him or Ellie because you three already had other problems. And by the time you met Maria and spent an afternoon with her, you had fainted in the shower. The doctor said you were likely suffering from anemia. With the lack of food, strong menstruation, and low blood pressure, you had been carrying with it for months, but as usual, there was a breakpoint.

The doctor suggested you go to another town where you could get iron injections, so you agreed. But that meant having to separate from Ellie and Joel. Tommy showed him some pictures the doctor took of you to show as references for the other doctors. You had giant bruises on the back of your legs, with yellow, green, and purple shades. It cracked Joel. Hearing Tommy say how you cried to him and Maria how you never meant to hurt Ellie or Joel. That you loved them two as your family, finally made Joel’s eyes get crystallized. You left around early spring, some weeks before he came back with Ellie. And for a long period, as you left with other people of Jackson, nobody had news. Until you appeared looking better.

“I fell in love with her, brother” Joel admitted. Even when forever, he said you were younger, that things would never work out.

“Why didn’t you let her explain?” Joel sighed, drinking a deeper shot of alcohol.

“I was so mad, that she was leaving Ellie behind. I just- Why she didn’t also ever say a thing about being sick? I would have given everything for her.” Tommy smiled sadly.

“That’s why. She didn’t want to worry you. I-… I think she also loved you too, Joel” The man closed his eyes and imagined what could’ve been. Maybe you two would be okay if things had happened differently.

“Tell Ellie. Then go with y/n and let everything out. This is your chance, brother. Be happy, love and rest now” Joel nodded slowly.

He had one chance…

…

Jackson looked beautiful decorated with pumpinks and dry leaves everywhere.

The streets are literally empty because everyone must have already been at the party. There’s a gorgeous sunset painting the town, and you can’t wait to walk across the street with sunset.

You know you’re late. As much as you can, you hurry to get out of the house. Maria made you and your other friends to get dressed for the occasion. With very little of options, you found a pair of orange and black lined thighs, an old witch hat and a black lipstick . Along with a black dress everything ended up fitting perfectly. You looked pretty, with your everyday chain in your neck and half-braid hairstyle. There’s a weird feeling in your chest, making you feel nervous as you move around your house. But you claimed it was because you were almost sure you were forgetting something.

You confirm it wasn’t that. Your nervousness was because of what was waiting for you at the other side of the door. Joel and Ellie are there.

“Oh no.” you sigh. Acting calmed, opposite of your outburst in prior weeks. You weren’t expecting them to be honest, but you were confident that another outburst would not come along. You lock the door, your hands trembling slightly, avoiding to look at them.

“Please leave me alone now. I’m so close to be over this…” you spit slipping your keys in your bag.

“Look, we didn’t know-“ Ellie starts, but now you interrupt her.

“No, neither of you knew anything. I can tell you both struggled after I stayed here. But I don’t wanna know either, I realized I’m grateful now, even if that meant losing you two” The way you said it, and how you locked your eyes with Joel’s, he knew what you meant. He looked calm, but he was freaking out. He had a lot to say, but felt like he had no chances to do so.

“Both of you can rest now knowing I’m at peace with my decision. I know what I did, and I’m proud of myself. Both of you were wrong, I’m not weak, I never was. I just have a big heart and you couldn’t understand me” They can choose any words quickly before you leave. But they remained quiet.

This is not the last shot Joel will give to have you back. He promises it as he watches you walking peacefully across the street.

You don’t look back. You feel some relief, this is a new era. After months drowning in guilt, wondering if you really were that much of an evil woman to abandon them. But now, you know you’re clean from them.

_____________________________

Idk part two or what?