#an apology is just a word. it would be easy to apologise and move on but it would also be fundamentally dishonest and i would learn nothing

[icallhimjoey]

Almost, Always

♥ ♥          Joseph Quinn x Fem!Reader 

Summary: Happy endings aren't for everyone, so it seems, but that doesn't mean that you can't stop trying for one. Question is, are you actually star-crossed lovers that can figure something out, or just absolutely blind to reality and really fucking stupid?

CW / disclaimer: rpf, fem!reader, language, adult themes, smut, cheating

Author’s note: it's monday! and fake joe's here for you! he's... not exactly the best, for which i apologise, but, he's all for you, so please, enjoy him fictionally and respect him privately (too much to ask? i hope not?) ok great talk everyone, love you <33 xo

Wordcount: 6.3K

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

Four days of silence.

Four days of not looking each other in the eye. Of no physical touch. Of not saying a single fucking word.

You moved around each other in a shared space until you had the thought that you were probably better off avoiding each other completely for a little while.

Joe was convinced he had every right to wait for an apology before he’d speak to you again. You, however, obviously heavily disagreed.

You had just been honest.

Joe had asked for you to be honest and so, you had been, but apparently, you’d done it wrong.

It started with an evening of not speaking after an outburst. A silent night routine where you completely avoided one another. Acted like the other person wasn’t even there. You’d thought then that you’d speak in the morning. That you’d talk things out after getting some sleep, because maybe that was the problem.

You slept with your backs facing each other and dreamed of better moods in the morning.

But then the next morning, Joe had gotten up and only made one coffee.

One singular cup of coffee.

He drank it at the kitchen table, looked at you all bitterly like a disappointed parent would look at their child who was ruining their potential, and then left the empty cup there for you to grow even more annoyed at. More than you already were.

That one evening of silence had slowly turned into four days.

You bit your tongue, though. Kept quiet, because Joe did too. Stored the annoyance away. Swept it under the rug, and even though this metaphoric rug was starting to look really lumpy, you pretended you could walk over it fine still.

You then also ignored that this is precisely what the fight had been about. About you shutting up about all the little things that annoyed you. All the small things that didn’t feel worth the effort to say anything about in the moment, because you didn’t want to be a nag.

Things built with you.

Being bothersome was your worst nightmare, so you wouldn’t say anything for ages until then suddenly, on a random afternoon, a teeny tiny drop made the bucket overflow and you’d fall apart at something so stupidly insignificant which would take everyone by surprise.

Would take Joe by surprise.

And it made sense that Joe’s first reaction to your fire would be to light his own. You’d snap and shout, so Joe’d snap and shout right back.

“Babe, you never fucking communicate! It’s always– I’m always guessing with you! Just tell me when something upsets you!”

“I am!”

“Yea now you are! But you’re telling me about shit I said three months ago! What do you want me to change about something I did three months ago?!”

“I don’t want you to change anything– my God! You asked me what’s wrong, so I’m telling you what’s wrong!”

It was always the same fight. And usually, you’d end up saying something so stupid to your own ears it would break the tension and make you laugh. It’d be easy to apologise in those moments, because you knew this was on you, and the warmth coming off of Joe as he’d turn soft at your laughter would always sort of fix things.

“Stop being so silly,” he’d say as he’d hug you. As he’d kiss you on the cheek until your embarrassed grimace, aimed fully at yourself, disappeared.

“Got some moaning left in there?” he’d ask, tapping the side of your head with a finger, making you giggle despite yourself. “Want to go shout into the air from the balcony? Since you’re here now, this is the time to get all of it out.”

That was how it usually went.

And he was right; you could definitely communicate better. Express feelings in the moment rather than hold on to all the negative shit for ages.

Easier said than done, but at least you were aware that you had to stop saving things for another day.  

This time the fight had been different though. There was no eventual humour slipping through any cracks. No secret smiles hidden from each other until you stopped being able to conceal them. No apologies. Zero kind words. Just… anger. And silence.

Joe was waiting for you to break first. For your wrath to turn into something a little softer that he could mould into something more to his liking.

And you were waiting because Joe was waiting. Simple as that.

It didn’t feel fair that every time you’d share negative feelings, Joe would end up calling you silly.

It didn’t feel fair that Joe never apologised for anything.

It didn’t feel fair that, just because you were quiet for a moment as you collected your thoughts, Joe spat, “Silent treatment? All right.” at you.

Four days.

Four days of Joe making a morning coffee just for himself, actively choosing to ignore, and therefore, hurt you.

Four days of his lone empty coffee cup left on the table, which you then didn’t clean, because why the fuck would you, but the sight of it was eating you alive.

You spent four days witnessing petty, childish behaviour from the man who you started believing you needed some space from. A little breathing room. Just until he’d miss you enough to reach out and say sorry, you know?

You wondered if he was thinking the same.

If the silence was also letting his mind wander into those same dark corners yours was exploring.

But then, Joe broke it.

A glass of wine on that fourth night broke it.

It wasn’t exactly an apology, but… it felt like one. You decided it was an apology.

You were sitting on the sofa, tapping away on your phone, talking to Emily about your stupid boyfriend, and she was a good friend, made fun of him effortlessly which really did a good job of making you feel better.

Then, Joe placed a glass of wine down on the coffee table in front of you.

It didn’t fully register at first.

You saw the glass, but assumed it was Joe’s wine that he poured for just himself, and if you were going to want some, you’d have to go and fetch you own.

Mid-typing out a message to Emily about it, you felt Joe sit down next to you, and when you chanced a quick glance, you saw that he was holding a glass of wine himself as he got comfortable and turned on the TV.

Slowly, your phone lowered into your lap, and you stared at that glass of red wine on the table for a moment.

Without warning, your eyes welled up.

He poured that for you.

In the effort to not let Joe notice how this gesture hit you right in the gut, you held your breath until you were shaking, and then a heaving sob burst out of you.

Shit.

You shattered.

Split right down the middle, and burst into pieces with such vigour, you surprised yourself, but surprised Joe more.

He had expected you to pick up the glass and empty it in the sink, or whatever.

Four days was much longer than he thought you’d let this go on for.

His girlfriend was stubborn – he knew that. But four days? Four days was a really fucking long time. And, apparently, four days was long enough for a simple glass of red supermarket wine to make you cry.

The astonishment rendered Joe useless for a moment.

He just looked at you for a moment as you sat with your phone in your lap, head dropped down, and your face covered by both your hands.

This was really fucking embarrassing.

Your legs felt the want to escape the situation before your mind got the chance to catch up. You were up on your feet and wanted to bolt it to the bedroom when you heard Joe put his glass of wine down.

You hadn’t even taken two steps before you got taken hold of by an arm. Pulled into a chest. Held firmly into place.

Going from four days of moving around each other like you didn’t exist to one another, to the very sudden tightest hug you’d received in ages was a lot.

And then Joe placed a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed you gently, making you fucking bawl.

No one apologised.

No one said a word, actually.

But you took whatever that glass of wine was as enough of an olive branch to let yourself be hugged.

Be shushed quietly.

Be gently kissed and softly touched.  

It shouldn’t have counted as an apology, but you’d taken it as one, and Joe had conveniently let you.

Saturday night.

You’re out.

Alone.

You know Emily would have come if you had asked her to, but you hadn’t, because she would’ve likely asked a bunch of questions you didn’t want to answer.

“Where are we going?” “That’s not where we usually go...” “Why are we going there?”

Couldn’t tell her. She’d try her best to talk sense into you. Would try to convince you that this behaviour wasn’t serving anyone in the long term.

And she’d be right.

But you currently don’t really care about the long term.

Short term is where it’s at.

Where all the fun and the excitement lives.

So you’re out. Having drinks at a bar by yourself, and you do your very best fending off any trickle of doubt at your life choices until you see him walk in.

Jackpot.

You fucking knew it.

You pretend you haven’t seen him at all, of course. Continue your chat with the girl behind the bar, until suddenly–

“You know you’ve got the worst timing?”

Joe sneaks up on you.

His voice is low in your ear, and you do your very best to sound as surprised as you possibly can when you gasp a small breath, all innocent. You turn your head to see him over your shoulder, both his hands on your sides as he looks down at you.

“Fancy seeing you here.” You say it like you truly didn’t expect to run into him.

Oscar worthy.

Well. It would have been, had you not both been very aware that you’re exactly where you are for this exact reason. Wearing what you are wearing, drinking what you are drinking. It’s more than a lucky guess that he’d be here tonight.

Joe’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

“I’m here with a whole group.” Joe’s making excuses he already knows aren’t going to stop either one of you.  

“Do I know them?”

“No.” Joe answers as he scans your face from the side. God, you look all… glossy.

“Good.” Would’ve been a bit awkward otherwise.

“You better hang around for a bit.” Joe gives you a face, sort of stern, and it’s so comfortable to frown at him. To act all offended. Like it’s not exactly what you want to hear.

“Excuse you, I’m–” you start all aghast, and want to add, I’m seeing someone, which is a lie, but you get cut off by a strong squeeze into your waist from both his hands.

“I’m not joking. Give me… maybe, like, an hour and I’ll come get you.”

You scrunch your nose at him and he gives a small nod, his grin spreading wide, before he turns around and finds the people he came in with.

You’re alone. Single, and having drinks in a bar by yourself, which has every opportunity to feel a little sad, but instead you feel giddy. You predicted you’d run into him, and then you did.

Perfect.

You’re a genius.

After last time, you kind of want Joe to think that you are seeing someone. Just to make you feel like you’ve got the upper hand. Not that it matters. You’ve both made the same wrong choice in similar situations before. But, still. You just don’t want him to win.

Joe joins his friends, and he throws a quick glance back to see you smile into your drink as you take a sip.

Yea. Glossy is the right word, he thinks. He could stare at you all evening.

Fuck.

A whack to his shoulder by one of his friends pulls him into a conversation and momentarily, he shifts into the evening he had planned to have.

He forgets about you for a minute, but never entirely.

It’s like there’s a constant little buzz in the back of his head, and he keeps wanting to look over. See what you’re doing. Who you’re talking to. Who’s talking to you.

Joe’s in trouble.

You do things to him that he can’t entirely comprehend, and that no one before or after you has ever really managed. He doesn’t know what to make of that most of the time, except that the feelings he’s got for you are sort of… big. And scary.

You’re still devastatingly gorgeous to him, he can objectively look at you and think, yea she’s fucking hot, but you also manage to make him laugh. Manage to him feel heard and cared for. Manage to make him forget about all current worries life has on offer for him.

And Joe is generally, just, doomed.

Whatever he had with you had worked for a while and then suddenly it hadn’t anymore. You’d suddenly wanted out, but now… it feels a little like you both want to start over. Like you both want to forget about that chapter of bullshit. Pretend it never happened.

And what’s the problem with that?

Is whatever you are doing now a problem? If it works?

If it doesn’t hurt people, Joe thinks there’s no issue.

But he knows it actually does hurt people. It’s another truth he ignores. Tries to, at least.

There’s no denying the gravitation pulling the two of you closer and closer together until eventually you end up a tangled mess. Like a pair of forgotten earphones left in a coat pocket, too annoying to untie, so instead someone will pull at both ends until the earpieces reach both ears, leaving the wire tangled up even tighter as it sits under their chin.

Even though Joe appreciates the poetic beauty he can find in all of that, he knows he’s got to fucking stop hurting people all the time.

He can’t help his feelings.

But he can help how he treats others.

If he is going to choose to let the general ache of a bad week be soothed by the balm of your presence, he can at least have the decency to not let others presume they’re dating him. Because generally, that’s always been his problem. Joe’s vague and avoidant and all about surface level fun – he never defines anything if he can help it, and he lets others think what they please.

It’s easier that way.

For him, at least.

It’s both a shame and a godsend that this is a part of him that you know through and through. That you see. He doesn’t have to try to hide it, because he knows that it’s of no use with you.

And apparently, it’s fine, because here you fucking are, aren’t you?

He remembers when he thought you were just the same, and remembers how he felt so lucky at first.

A perfect match.

He’d learnt over time, you’re actually very much not the same. But! You had at least some of the same tendencies, and you showing up in this particular bar tonight was enough proof of it.

Joe’s in his group of friends, and they’re all chatting and laughing, and this was meant to be a fun night out, but he might as well just leave right now. His mind is with the girl at the other end of the bar, sat on her own, smiling and chatting to whoever had the courage to strike up a conversation.

Yea.

He’s got more problems.

Forget not wanting to define anything with anyone.

Joe also has to stop banking his entire future on the idea that you want him too.

There’s… there’s a lot of things to ignore.

It should foreshadow that the path he’s going down isn’t good. Isn’t the right one. But... it’s so fun and exciting, he kind of has to know where it leads.

He sighs loudly, a frustrated grumble originating from sheer defeat, and he gives the glass he’s holding a glance. He’ll finish this, and then he’ll fetch you and leave.

About fifteen minutes later, he’s got you under his arm and is leading you outside. Asks, “Yours or mine?” because there’s no need to act coy with you.

You answer, “Yours.” a little too quickly for Joe not to raise an eyebrow at.

You’re walking together, and you’re still fixing your scarf, but your steps are too determined. Too rushed for your quick answer not to hide at least some secrets.

“What, you got anything to hide from me?”

“No–”

“Let’s go over to yours. It’s closer.” he challenges without the intent to actually do so, footsteps still carrying him in the direction of his own flat.

“No, I–”

“Or has Jasper left all of his things strewn about?” Joe couldn’t finish the question before having to twist his mouth in a bid to hide his smile.

You stop walking for just a second, and give him a dead pan stare that transitions into an eye-roll before you flatly say, “All right, good night.” and pretend to turn around to leave.

It makes Joe throw his head back in a laugh, both his arms grabbing at you and pulling you close.

“Mine, okay. Mine.”

And you fall back into step, smiling into your scarf at how you just made Joe’s laugh echo down the street.

Feels good to make Joe laugh.

It’s quiet for a bit, just a short few seconds. Just footsteps on the ground amongst the noises of the city. Somehow, it feels like it drags on, like every second lasts a whole minute, and you can’t help filling it with awkward chat. “No,” you start. “Jasper’s put all of his things where they’re supposed to go.” And you give Joe a pointed look after.

He bites immediately.

“Wha– I always put my things where they’re supposed to go!”

He doesn’t.

You know he doesn’t.

He knows you know he doesn’t.

It’s impossible to forget all of the little things that made the rug look all lumpy. You’d always keep things under there for ages, which gave you a lot of time to quietly lift up corners to examine all the mess.

So you snort, and he stutters through beginnings of words he never finishes to find excuses that don’t exist until you’re both laughing.

Then he says, “Here. I’ll put this thing where it’s meant to go.” And you think it’s just about the cheesiest innuendo ever, but then he takes your wrist in his hand and lets his fingers intertwine with yours.

You look up at him with a pursed smile, but Joe’s already looking right ahead, making sure you don’t bump into anything.

You’re lucky it’s cold enough to blame the flush of your cheeks on the cold wind.

You hold hands all the way to Joe’s flat.

It’s nice.

You also talk about Jasper all the way to Joe’s flat.

That’s less nice.

Joe asks what else Jasper does that he allegedly doesn’t. If he lets you keep your heating on. If he lets you sleep closest to the door. Every question comes out with disdain, like this loser doesn’t know what he’s fucking doing.

And you answer every question with lies. Paint a very pretty picture.

Jasper doesn’t even fucking exist, but you like that Joe thinks you’re taken. That you’re off the market, and that he shouldn’t be taking you home, but still chooses to. You think maybe he wouldn’t have held your hand if he thought you weren’t already spoken for.

However, it doesn’t feel so nice to remember all the things that ruined your relationship with Joe. He just keeps listing a bunch of shit you’d once yelled at him for, and you don’t think he fully understands how it’s bringing the mood down.

Presumably, you’re meant to think it’s funny, so you smile, but all of it sits wrong in your gut. It leaves you with a bitter taste in your mouth that uncomfortably sticks to your tongue and sours your mood a little.

The short-term fun with Joe is meant to be just that. Fun. You don’t want to be reminded of all the reasons why you shouldn’t be going home with him right now. If you did, you’d have taken Emily with you tonight.

You refrain from saying anything, though.

You’re still you, after all.

You just smile and tell Joe that Jasper actually does do all the things that Joe never did, and hope it sparks enough jealousy in him to maybe do something about it.

“Hmm,” Joe says when you turn the corner and his building comes into view. “Jasper sounds... he sounds kind of perfect, doesn’t he?”

He does.

You’ve created the image of a perfect boyfriend. One who you know you’d never actually gel with; you need someone who pushes back a little.

Problem is... Joe knows that too.

Just when the thought crosses your mind that maybe Joe knows you’re making everything up, that you’ve been lying this whole time you’ve been holding hands, Joe confirms your fears.

“Almost too um... almost too good to be true, wouldn’t you say?” he narrows his eyes in suspicion, a smile still playing on his lips.

“Yea, well. Some people are.” you shrug, but know Joe is reading your unsteady body language just fine.

“Sure, sure. Yea. I guess so.” Joe says, and then falls silent.

He knows you’re lying.

Well, fuck.

And then, he lets the silence linger.

Joe doesn’t say anything as he fishes his keys from a pocket and lets you into his building. Doesn’t say anything as he pushes the lift button. Just gives you a little smile, like he’s trying to hold in a chuckle, thinking secret thoughts.

It gets in your hair.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s... no, it’s nothing.”

Joe lets his small smile turn into a fat smirk and it’s starting to get on your nerves. The lift doors open, and you assertively step inside before Joe can give you a small ladies-first gesture.

Joe watches you press the button to his floor before he shakes his head a little and follows you in.

“What?” you ask again, and to that, Joe finally lets a barking laugh out.

“What?” he mimics, feeding off of the brooding bit of bite he can sense growing underneath your skin.

“If you’re trying to piss me off, it’s fucking working.”

“I’m not trying to do anything.” Joe patronises, joy very much still visible in the lines on his cheeks.

He knows you’re single.

He knows there’s no Jasper.

“Hmm.” It’s your turn to narrow eyes at him. “Yea, no. Of course not. You don’t have to try to piss me off, you’re right. You’ve got the skills to auto-pilot your way–”

In a lightning-speed quick move, Joe shuts you up by suddenly getting close enough for you to stumble back against the mirrored panel or the lift. He’s got two hands touching your sides over your coat, firm enough for you to feel them through the thick layers of fabric.

It startles you into silence, and makes you audibly swallow.

You can see from up close how Joe smugly pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek, eyes roving over you slowly, and, fuck.

Yea.

Yea. Okay.

It shifts.

All of it is shifting.

The annoyance and slight anger transfers into something else.

Into something a little more raunchy.

You feel a sudden rush down your body from the way Joe’s eyes blaze with intention.

Joe knows you. Bit rash of you to forget.

Just before the lift stills and the doors open behind him, Joe lets his body sway forward a bit to press himself up against you entirely. It makes your breath hitch and stutter. Makes you want to grab hold of the large collar of his coat to pull him down enough so you can kiss him.

But then, in a blink of an eye, he’s gone. Pushes himself off, quickly moves away, walks out of the lift, and leaves you there to catch your breath for a second.

Fucking hell.

Oh, tonight is going to be interesting.

You don’t leave the lift until the doors start closing and you have to quickly launch yourself across to get an arm in front of the sensor. Down the hall you see him disappear into his flat, leaving his door open, and you take rushing steps to follow him inside.

You don’t want to waste any more time.

You want to undress right there on his doormat, despite the bitterly cold temperature you’ve just stepped into.

You want find Joe, who you can hear is already opening and closing cupboards in his kitchen, and just... you don’t know. Jump him, you guess.

That lift moment has made you want to devour him. Made you want to be devoured by him.

But then you close his door and step into his kitchen, and find him at the counter. He’s got his back turned, and is super calmly pouring two glasses of wine.

No urgency.

Zero haste.

He knows what he’s just done to you. Knows the effect that likely must have had. He’s toying with you. Fucking playing.

You drop your coat where you’re standing, right onto the floor. Toe your shoes off to make a pile. You cross your arms and grab hold of the bottom of your top, ready to pull that over your head next, but you pause to watch Joe’s shoulders move under his shirt as he carefully twists and pushes the cork back onto the bottle to seal it.

When he turns around, he leans against the counter, one hand on the edge of it, and in the other he’s holding a nice fat glass of red.

Glass.

One glass.

For a moment you just assume that there’s another hiding behind his back, though it doesn’t even fully register.

You make eye-contact as he takes a slow sip of his drink, and then you slowly pull your top off. It reveals a lacy bra you’re convinced Joe likes the look of.

And you’re right.

Joe halts, and openly stares. Mouth in his wine. Hypnotised. Frozen on the spot. Mind slowly turning to mush.

He’s predictable like that.

Men in general are easy like that.

You take a deep breath, inflating your whole chest, and Joe groans at the sight. The glass of wine gets put back down behind him, and you don’t even think he has taken real sip. Then he takes a few steps to pull a chair from his table.

He holds a hand up that means, one second, and pulls at the fabric of his trousers to give himself a bit more space before he sits down. He shifts a little, settles in, and then leans back with his legs spread wide, both hands behind his head, fingers folded and elbows sticking out.

He takes a deep breath before he gives a small nod that says, carry on.

You bite your teeth into your bottom lip as you smile, because Joe is an idiot, and you let your hands find the button to your trousers to take off next.

Then, suddenly, it lands.

There’s one single glass of wine on the counter.

One.

You stop your movements as you look at it and watch the red liquid inside softly swirl from when Joe put it down.

It takes a second for Joe to follow your gaze, and for him to understand what you’re looking at.

He frowns in confusion a little, looks back at you to see that you’re still staring, and then looks back again, and–

“Oh...”

Your expression has gone cold.

And Joe thinks that maybe he gets it. He isn’t entirely sure, but he’s smart enough to know that the show he had just settled in for is probably going to get cancelled if he doesn’t do anything.

“Did you...”

But he’s not sure what to say. Doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. When you start moving, he thinks maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s crazy how this feels like it used to feel, before.

But, it’s a little different now, because… there’s nothing at stake. There’s no you to protect. No you two as a couple to preserve.

That stupid single glass of red wine.

You fucking hate it.

And you know it’s sick, you know that you’re not meant to enjoy this, but the feeling of rage bubbling up within you honestly feels kind of good. It’s been a while since you’ve gotten to experience full-body resentment, and have the immediate source of it right there to take it out on.

You want to feel this dark, sticky displeasure.

Feels fucking good.

Joe’s been reminding you of what a shit boyfriend he was to you, which was meant to be ha-ha funny. Joe thought enough time had passed. You had gone from no-contact to two people that bickered for a bit, and then would end up in bed together. It had happened twice already, and you had all the right ingredients to keep this going. The recipe had proven itself delicious, and Joe thought he could just... serve the same meal again.

It’s self-destructive, you know it is, but… you are hungry for it too.

You take a few slow steps and walk over to look at this glass of wine more closely. Joe watches you from his seat, entirely unsure of what to do, and then, without warning, you slowly push the whole thing into the sink.

Red splashes everywhere, and the glass clatters loudly, but it doesn’t break.

Next, you take the bottle into your hands. Look at the label for a moment. Pretend to read it. It’s still pretty full.

Too bad, you think. Such a waste.

You remove the cork, turn around to look Joe directly in the eye, and then tip that over as well. The whole sink colours blood read as you drain the whole thing, and all Joe can do is watch on from his seat.

He doesn’t stop you.

Doesn’t say anything.

Just watches you and feels the energy of the room build.

He’d forgotten how things always build with you.

You’re quite the sight, face reading thunder, standing in his kitchen in your bra, breath deepening with every second that passes.

Joe hates what it does to him inside of his trousers.

When the bottle empties, wine clattering in the sink, Joe sees your face change. Something more… calm seemingly overcomes you. You look... pleased.

“Does that feel justified?” Joe asks, eyes blinking at you.

“Fuck you. Yes it does.”

“Do you have any idea how expensive that was?”

You don’t give a shit how expensive that was, but just because you know Joe does, you want to know.

“Tell me.”

Joe scans your body all the way down and then all the way back up.

“Come here.” Joe holds an arm out and reaches for you.

“Shut up. Tell me.” You’re already making your way over.

“That’s a class A premier grand cru...”

You take Joe’s hand and let him pull you to sit on his lap. To straddle him, thighs spread wide, one leg over each one of his.

“That was a class A premier grand cru.” the words mean nothing to you, you know fuck all about wine, but there’s something glorious about correcting Joe.

“Hmm.” Joe hums as his nose nudges yours, and he lets both hands slide up your thighs until he finds the bits he likes holding most. He uses his grip to pull you in closer and continues, “A blend of merlot, and cabernet franc...” Joe’s French accent is awful. “An award-winning Château Angélus from... from 2016, I think...”

That’s fairly recent, you think. Can’t be that expens–

“Cost me over 500 quid.”

Your eyes darken.

Good.

You wouldn’t pay much more than a tenner for a bottle of the same size.

“Should’ve poured me a glass.”

And it’s only then that the penny drops. That he gets it. You can see it in his eyes. The flush of memories suddenly making it to the forefront of his brain.

The silent treatment.

The coffees he didn’t make you.

The wine he eventually did pour for you.

That one glass of red that temporarily had fixed everything.

Shit.

Joe grimaces. Groans. Squeezes his eyes shut. Feels like an idiot.

“Should’ve poured you a–”

You kiss Joe.

Hard.

Breathe him in, and move in enough for it to almost make the chair tip backwards. You’ve got both your arms around his neck, hips moving over Joe’s lap in a desperate grind, all needy and in search of feeling something.

Fire.

You want to feel the fire.

Momentarily, you think it’s working. That something is catching aflame. You can feel how Joe spreads his legs even wider, bucking his hips upward as he presses himself into you.

Joe is straining in his trousers, and he groans as you figure out the right rhythm to make it feel good with every hip roll, with every back and forth.

You break the kiss to let a moan escape you, head dropping back, and Joe’s mouth finds the skin of your neck to taste. His teeth graze before he kisses as you fiercely move against each other. Louder noises escape you when Joe lets a hand curl around and grab you by the back of your neck.

“Yea? That feel nice?” he pants, and all you can do is bob your head in a barely there nod as you keep moving.

It does feel nice.

Feels really nice.

Not exactly fire, though. You’re both in trousers, fabric rubbing together furiously, dry humping each other like a pair of horny teenagers who haven’t passed third base yet.

So, not fire, but nice none the less.

In contrast, there’s a lot of things Joe’s feeling, and he kind of wants you to know about all of them. Needs to speak them into the air in order to fully process what’s happening inside of his brain.

“Did you know I um… I broke everything off, the next day?” Joe starts, and stops to curse under his breath. “Fuck. Yea, keep going. Shit. Ah... A-after you left, I mean, remember? I had a lot of m-missed calls, so I called her back, and I–”

You shut Joe up with a kiss.

Try to at least.

“We could–” Joe starts again after turning his head and pushing you aside with his nose, both hands spread wide over your thighs as he helps you move over his lap. “Remember, how we really were something?”

You squeeze your eyes shut. Try to focus on the feelings inside of your body instead of on the words you don’t want to hear.

“We could be something still.”

“N-no.”

You refuse to acknowledge what Joe’s trying to tell you, but don’t stop your movements. You can’t stop, head dropping back. This all feels too good.

It’s still not fire, though.

There’s no stakes.

You’re both single, and every decision you have made this evening turns out to have been inconsequential.

It’s... it’s almost boring.

But it’s good enough.

You just need a couple more seconds, you can feel it building already.

“We c-couldn’t be somethinhgh...” you choke on your words, unable to finish the sentence.

“Yes,” Joe insists, voice low and breathy, your bodies still moving in tandem. He then uses one hand takes hold of your face by your cheeks, tilting your head down so he can make eye-contact with you for a second.

“Yes we could.” He sounds hopeful as his eyes search yours. “Don’t you get it?”

But your eyes are glassy. They flutter and want to roll back.

Joe knows this look.

Know what this means.

And it’s not like Joe thinks his kind words will really fix anything, but, maybe they will, you know? Maybe. He’s glad he has said them anyway, even though you look like you haven’t even properly heard him.

“You close, baby?”

He switches gears.

“Yea? Come on.” He helps you move with strong arms that press you down a little more, and your arms scramble behind his back in your want to hold onto him tightly.

“There you go.” he coos into your ear, and, it’s not fire, but you come anyway.

Joe should have poured you a glass of wine.

Shouldn’t have brought up bad memories, shouldn’t have tried to be funny about it, and absolutely should have simply gone and poured you a glass.

You pretend that a glass of wine would’ve made a difference tonight.

The difference that you had hoped to find.

That would’ve lit the fire.

Deep down you know that’s not it, but still. The empty bottle is right there, watching you come down from your high, Joe still hard beneath you, and it’s easy to use that as the excuse.

You decide on the spot that Joe’s going to have to deal with what resides inside of his underwear by himself.

You’re done.

Sitting up, you look him in the eye for a short moment and softly but definitively say, “Should’ve poured me a glass.” and press a small kiss to his cheek which Joe gladly accepts.

Because he knows you’re right.

“Should’ve poured you a glass.”

---

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add yourself

[no-144444]

injury causer- l.sargeant

Day 11 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: logan can't look where he's going, too bad he runs straight into you.

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You were the lead mechanic on the Andretti Indycar team. You dealt with Kyle Kirkwood and his massive ego all day, everyday. You could’ve sworn everyone hated him by the way he was looked at by other paddock employees. He was nice when the cameras were out but other than that? Asshole. 

You knelt down, trying to get a good look at the car when someone somehow didn’t see you, walked straight into you, kicking you directly in the stomach. 

“Fuck! Sorry!” he immediately rushed out, leaning down to help you out. 

“Watch where you’re going please?” you scoffed, standing up. Kyle laughed as he started sputtering through an apology. You knew who he was, he was Logan Sargeant, a fucking F1 driver. You didn’t care. You weren’t dealing with another asshole’s huge ego today, not that you thought Logan would have one, you knew what he was like, but then again, F1 can change people. You looked at Kyle, who subtly whispered to him to stop apologising. “Drivers aren’t the only people who make the sport happen, dickhead.”

He looked taken aback. “Come one Y/n, it was-”

 “I’m super sorry, I just… I didn’t realise where I was stepping. Sorry again,” Logan interjected. 

“Y/n, stop being a bitch alright?” Kyle scoffed, and you genuinely could’ve killed him. 

“Dude, that’s a dick move,” Logan turned to his friend with a look of disgust. “Apologise.”

Now it was Kyle’s turn to look shocked. “What do you mean?” he scoffed. 

“I mean apologise, you’re being an asshole,” Logan replied calmly. 

Kyle scoffed, which turned into a laugh. 

“I’ll cut your breaks,” you threatened, shutting him up. “And thank you Logan, but that’s alright. I don’t think the word ‘sorry’ is in his vocabulary.” 

Logan turned to Kyle again. “Dude, you’re being a dick. Apologise.”

“Sorry,” he scoffed, and walked off.

“I’m so sorry about him,” Logan sighed. “He can be-”

“An asshole all the time? Yeah, I know,” you nodded. “I'm sorry that you’re his friend.”

He chuckled. “He’s not that bad.”

“Trust me, he is.”

He smiled at you. Internally, he was losing it over the fact that you were standing in front of him, talking to him. He had basically been in love with you since you were both 15. You’d been Adrian Newey’s prodigy as you came up through the motorsports world, and after a bad crash you didn’t get back in the car. That meant you turned to understanding the car, how it worked, how to design one, how to make it safer, make it faster. You knew everything about Indycar, Formula 1, Formula 2, Formula 3, Formula 4 cars. You had even designed some of the best karts in the world. You designed the Mclaren car this year, you’d conceptualised the rear-wing, you’d made it all happen for them, and now you were at Andretti, ready to make them winners. On top of that, you were designing for 6 of the 10 F1 teams, 1 of the 11 F2 teams, and 2 of the 10 F3 teams. Your resume was more than packed, but Logan liked you. You had always been kind to him. Coming up through the European side of motorsport, making friends wasn’t always easy. Yes, he had Oscar, but Oscar also had Zhou, Fred, Paul, and anyone else. Oscar was busy most of the time, so Logan would just hang around the paddock. That’s when he met you. You’d invite him to RedBull team stuff and you ended up spending a lot of time together. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” he smiled. 

“It’s nice to see you again,” you smiled back. “How’s Prema treating you?”

“Good. Better than Williams,” he shrugged. 

“I wanted to reach out after it happened but I think you changed your number,” you admitted. “You deserved so much more than that team. Everyone knows what a talented driver you are.”

He shrugged, his face heating up. “Thank you, it means a lot.”

“Well, it was nice to see you, I’d better get back to it-”

“Here’s my number,” he said, handing you a slip of paper. “I’d like you call me sometimes- I-I’d like to call sometimes- I like you, call me- I-”

“I like you too, and yes, I will call you ,” you chuckled, endeared by his embarrassing moment. 

He shook his head, drowning in embarrassment. He smiled and waved as you walked back to your desk, happy that, at the very least, he had your number.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

[savannahsdeath]

heyy! this is my first time asking a request but can you do more mafia ellie? i love her sm omg 🤭

MAFIA!ELLIE X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! mentions of ellie not having time for reader;(( finger sucking? cum eating just smut and ellie ending up shoving her fingers in your mouth because .

writers note: inspired by @seattlesellie 's fic though hers about abby 🤭(read it here) .. i found it days ago and just couldnt get this out of my head goshhh and finding it again was so hard !!

: ̗̀➛ "yeah, good fuckin' job." ellie mumbled in a raspy whisper.

you could see her arm muscles tense as her grip on her phone tightened. you bit your lip and threw your head back, leaning it on her shoulder.

it wasn't supposed to be like that. not at all.

: ̗̀➛ she told you she has a day off - well, she's her own boss, so she could have one any day, but her job is hard to take a break of. there's always some problems or complications. or unexpected calls, like this one. of course, she apologised a hundred times before picking it off (not really, she just murmured a half-assed 'sorry, babe'), but it didn't make it any less annoying.

: ̗̀➛ so you ended up pressed against her chest with legs spread wide open, making room for her right hand, which, much to your surprise, didn't slid out of you.

"ellie—" you let out a desperate mewl, feeling her fingers slow down as her focus shifted to the person on the phone.

she shushed you, planting a loving kiss on your neck, which only added fuel to your neediness.

"i know." she whispered, curling her fingers inside of you to prove her point. she straightened up as if whoever she was talking with could see her previous posture. "uhh, yeah... could you repeat?"

her every move would force a sound out of the back of your throat, every touch of her lips on your neck whenever she wasn't the one speaking left dark marks on your skin. you held onto her hand, digging your nails into her forearm what didn't bother her at all. being silent wasn't easy, it took lots of self-control which disappeared in ellie's presence.

: ̗̀➛ it was even harder when the "good fuckin' job" turned out to be something more like "fucked job". that's when you finally earned her focus. her fingers found the perfect way to calm her down, take some anger out and let her listen to your beautiful moans. you really tried to be quiet, but all you could do is purse your lips, what only muffled all the little whimpers.

"look, if you don't figure it out till tomorrow, you're fucking dead." she hissed, her frustration spreading through her whole body - from head to toes.

you felt the electricity cumulating in her fingers, you felt how mad she was. oh, yes, you felt that.

"i—" you whined, tugging on her arm to get even more of the attention.

"hushh..." she clicked her tongue, turning back to her phone. "i'm not kidding. your wife's gonna get your head as a christmas gift, if i'll feel generous."

every single word that escaped her mouth caused another gasp from you, because you didn't really listen to how harsh her statement was, you just enjoyed her raspy voice which was perfectly sychronised with her fingers. when she spoke slowly, her movement would also slow down, and, oh, how much you wanted to beg her to hang up.

"i don't care— no, shush, shut up." she hissed, but you felt better at the thought of you not being the only one who has to stay quiet now. "i have no idea how you'll do it, but you will, or i swear to god i—" her slim digits digged into you as she kissed your cheek, mumbling a tired; "fuckin' idiots" close to your ear while pulling away.

the man on the phone must start to get nervous, as his pathetic voice was now audible even for you. he kept apologizing and rambling nonsense, though ellie wasn't really interested in his excuses. plus, she had other things to do.

she used the little break as much as she could, pumping her fingers in and out of you and even slightly withdrawing her phone from her ear so she could listen to the sticky, dirty noises. nuzzling her face in your neck, she let out a long hum, either satisfied at the sound or to make the poor man think she cares. maybe both.

eventually, she continued her conversation. not forgetting about a disappointed, dramatic sigh first, of course. "any last wish?" she asked with an obvious smirk.

his voice raised even more, now not only apologizing but begging her for forgiveness. ellie never hurt any of her 'workers', unless they were traitors, so the fact that he took her seriously seemed unusual and, at some point, hilarious.

: ̗̀➛ you were so close, finally, after minutes of this torture - of your satisfaction disappearing for a few seconds just to come back... just to leave again, making your neediness take over. you bit your lip and looked at ellie, plopping your head on the crook of her neck. she felt how fastly and roughly you exhaled against her collarbone, grinning in amusement. you shifted, pressing your back even harder to her chest so you could feel it raising and falling as she breathes. your eyelids fell, making you get lost in a dark maze of every possible sense but sight.

"ellielliellie!" you whined, her name rang out in the dense, cold air.

your voice could be definitely heard on the other side of the phone, though the man didn't even stop his panicked rambling, what probably meant he was too busy to notice it.

she tsked as your throbbing walls clenched around her, her soaked fingers dripping on her palm. the ache which was persistently located somewhere deep in your body, maybe in the core of your bones, and didn't want to let go of you finally subsided. your hands almost unconsciously rested against your sides and as you opened your eyes you could see little moon shapes left on her forearm, where your nails digged into her.

it took you by complete surprise, not giving you time to react - though you wouldn't do anything anyway - before your pornographic moan got cut off with her digits sliding inside of your mouth. your saliva pooled down as your teeth grazed her flesh; salty and,, callous. her palm rested against your chin, forcing you to keep it raised.

"el—luhh" you tried to mumble but it came out as nothing like your girlfriend's name. it was slobbery, unclear and— disgusting.

she turned back to her phone, making you only able to guess what her expression was but she was, without a doubt, smirking. your tongue flopped flat beneath / against her fingers, earning a hum from ellie. as your pouty lips closed around her, her digits moved in deeper, causing you to gag for a second.

"c'mon, you'll live." she rolled her eyes, and you weren't sure which one of you is she talking to now - you, or the man who thinks he fights for his life, when in reality his 'threat' doesn't even listen to him?

your view range was violated by her grip, but you could see how unbothered she was through the corner of your eye. you could feel it - feel that her thighs don't tremble and clench, or that her breath is steady and deep, unlike yours.

as she shoved her fingers almost knuckles deep in your mouth, she spread them as if to gesture scissors and you swore you can read her mind, so you twirled your tongue around them, cleaning them up. your own juices got replaced with just as messy saliva, which small droplets cumulated in the corner of your lips. you couldn't help but suck on her digits, and the action itself made your eyes watery.

"you'll stay silent now, 'kay?" she spoke up in a mocking tone, and you couldn't tell who is she talking to again - no matter which one of you it was, you knew she wasn't asking and you hoped that the man realizes it too.

still, you nodded, making her whole hand follow your movements, what almost felt like she's the one controlling your body's reaction.

"of course you will." she cooed in a serious voice, though there was a different undertone - laced with taunting sweetnes.

✧˖°

[stevebabey]

part one. the same cw applies as part one (cw: past sexual coercion is implied) thank u for any & all kind comments <3 hopin to deliver on the angsty hurt/comfort front >:/

“I’m sorry.”

It’s not exactly how he planned to start his whole apology speech but it’s as good a start as any. Steve is glad he says it. Eddie’s entire character softens just a bit hearing it, his shoulders relaxing to sit a little lower, like maybe, he was afraid Steve had come by to argue some more.

For a moment, they stare at each other until Eddie seems to realise he’s blocking the entrance. He jolts just a bit and side steps, beckoning Steve to come inside.

Good start. Steve steps forward and the subsequent rustle from behind his back reminds him of what’s in his hands. He pulls them out from their hiding spot and offers them out with only a marginally awkward cough. “Uh, first, these are for you.”

In his hands are blue hydrangeas, 3 of them, and the bag containing a mixtape and a multitude of Eddie’s favourite candies.

Eddie’s reaction isn’t… quite the usual. He doesn’t swoon or snap up the gifts out of Steve’s hands like Tilly and other girlfriends had. He doesn’t smile either, just eyes then silently. Steve feels a roll of worry tangle up his stomach.

After a moment, Eddie takes them. Steve follows him, taking the trailer stairs two at a time to keep watch on what Eddie will do. It’s a surprise then to watch them get placed to the side, flowers and gift bag dumped down on the Munson’s cluttered dining table. Eddie doesn’t even attempt a peek into the bag, which, well, for Eddie says a lot.

Moving his gaze from their discarded state to Eddie, Steve finds himself pinned down by Eddie’s waiting stare, his arms crossed tight over his chest. He’s waiting for Steve to speak. Right, it’s time to face the music.

Steve chances a quick glance down at the smudged bullet points on his palm. It suddenly feels too wooden for what Steve really wants to say, too constructed, too much what he thought Eddie wanted to hear.

And besides, Eddie hadn’t reacted as expected in the first instance, the forgotten gifts put to the side. Steve shoves his hand deep in his pocket and goes instead with exactly what he’s feeling.

“Okay, um. Look, I didn’t mean what I said. I- I know that was, I— my parents came home that night.”

None of it is coming out right, stammers on every word. Steve curses himself under his breath and wills himself to continue. Knows if it was Eddie apologising it would be poetic and sweet, all the right words in all the right order.

“I’m not— It’s not an excuse,” Steve shakes his head, tries to string together one single coherent fucking sentence. “I’m sorry. Sorry that I didn’t pick you up. And- and I’m sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it. Really, it’s- I don’t think that of you. I’m sorry if I made you think I did.”

Eddie nods, though his clenched jaw gives away he’s not entirely peachy just yet.

“Robin told me about your parents being home. And yeah, it wasn’t cool what you said.” He agrees and Steve’s stomach turns. “But I wasn’t exactly fair either, getting all up in your face about it, so I’m sorry for that.”

Steve blinks, surprised; an apology was the last thing he’d expected to come out of Eddie’s mouth.

“I’m still a bit hurt,” Eddie admits, arms folding across his chest in a defensive motion. Steve hates how he seems to be curling in on himself, so obviously hating to admit aloud that Steve’s words had cut so deep. “But y’know, I know now that you were wound up from your parents being home. So, you’re, like, forgiven I guess.”

...Huh, okay. Usually, forgiveness comes after the grovelling, Steve thinks. Not as easily granted as Eddie is seemingly giving him now.

“Okay, uh,” Steve says warily, not quite sure where to go from here. Eddie isn’t really moving, still standing a bit tense. Waiting for Steve to break the ice.

Steve’s eyes dart to the dining table — the resting hydrangeas and abandoned candy. Steve tries to put two and two together, sure, so sure he’s missing something. It’s never this easy.

Eddie hadn’t acknowledged the flowers, hadn’t wanted the gifts. Steve may be forgiven but he still hasn’t shown Eddie how sorry he is.

Steve steps closer and sinks to his knees.

Eddie’s eyes widen in an instant and he takes half a step back, his hands raising up. It doesn’t feel good to watch Eddie put distance between them. Something curls up in Steve’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” Eddie asks. His voice is a bit scratchy and he clears his throat, not moving closer but not moving further away.

Fine. He wants Steve to spell it out. Steve wishes Eddie would just let him apologise in the way he knows — he was hoping Eddie wouldn’t make him drag out his apologies like his father did. But Eddie did love his theatrics so it’s not all that surprising.

“I’m… still apologising?” It’s not meant to come out as a question but half way through the sentence, Steve clocks Eddie’s body language. It’s giving very different vibes than expected. Steve’s confused.

The confusion only hikes up when anger flares in Eddie’s eyes, his jaw tightening just a bit. “You’re—? This isn’t gonna make what you said hurt any less, Steve. Is that what the…”

Eddie trails off, his own gaze tracking over to the dining table. He seems even more ticked off then, fixing his gaze back on to Steve.

“Are you trying to— Did you think you buying me stuff and sucking my dick is some completely fucked way to fast-track an apology?”

Steve feels his own eyes widen, each word twisting his confusion up so tightly it hurts in his chest. Eddie sounds angry.

“No,” Steve insists weakly, because he knows that’s what Eddie wants to hear. Even if that sort of is what he was expecting. He shakes his head, tries to get a read on Eddie’s body language beyond his annoyance. What does he want? “No, I just…”

Eddie’s anger seems to wane a little, seeing the confusion shudder across Steve’s features. Steve suddenly feels incredibly stupid being on his knees— but he doesn’t move. He doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know what to say. Maybe Eddie doesn’t want him in this way right now.

“I was,” Steve starts, clearing his throat and willing away his flushed cheeks. “I’m proving it to you.” His voice is a little stronger now, more sure. “I want to prove that I’m sorry.”

Eddie stares at him for a long moment and just when Steve thinks he’ll concede and reach for his belt, he surprises Steve and sinks to his knees too. He sits atop his boots, now face to face with his boyfriend, and reaches out gingerly to place a hand on Steve’s knee.

Steve eyes it for a moment. Is this the come on?

“Steve,” Eddie says gently. It reminds Steve of the tone one might have with an easily spooked animal, all comforting and soothing. “Do you even… want this? To have sex right now?”

It’s a strange question, Steve thinks. He frowns. This blowjob isn’t about him. “I think I’m confused,” He admits, forcing a chuckle to make it a little more casual. Then repeats the sentiment from earlier again. “I want to apologise.”

Eddie nods, harsh enough a curl untucks itself from behind his ear. “Yeah, sweetheart, you already did that. You apologised and I forgave you.”

Eddie doesn’t mention that all these extra things, the gifts and flowers, made him question the genuineness in Steve’s apology at first. Something tells him to dig a little deeper. Steve isn’t smarmy or cocky, he’s not sure that’ll be forgiven, he’s… confused.

But Steve nods. He’s following Eddie’s words so far. Something glitters inside him that he’s already back to sweetheart so soon. He hesitantly lays his own hand atop of Eddie’s, resting them both on his knee. Doesn’t speak. Doesn’t even know what to say. 

“So, I guess what I’m asking is… what is this?” Eddie waves his hand over Steve’s kneeled form.

The way he says it is still so concerned, which is so far from the usual eagerness Steve has come to know from him normally in these types of situations. Suddenly, knowing Eddie’s definitely not in the mood makes the whole thing a lot more embarrassing now.

“Christ, I wish I had known you wouldn’t want that now,” Steve forces another laugh, quiet, as he ducks his head down. Eddie doesn’t join in, just waits patiently.

“I was— y’know,” Steve waves a hand, gesturing to nothing. “Proving I was sorry. Making it up to you. Guess sex was the wrong idea there, sorry.”

He grimaces a bit, squeezes Eddie’s hand. Steve wonders how he’ll end up making it up to Eddie, if not this way. It’s always been this way.

Eddie doesn’t say anything, just stares at Steve with a perturbed expression on his face. If Steve had to guess, he’d say he almost— almost looks a bit sad.

“Stevie,” Eddie says, nudging closer. Both their knees are touching now. “You already apologised. I forgave you.”

He’s repeating things Steve already knows, so Steve nods. Then repeats the thing he’s heard a hundred times over, “Yeah, I know and now I need to prove how sorry I am.”

Eddie’s face crumples a bit, the frown line between his brows deepening. He seems to have hit some understanding, shuffling even closer to Steve. Any annoyance from a minute ago has leaked out of his body. He’s all comfort now, every soft part that Steve adores so much.

“No, you don’t.” Eddie says simply, words strong and sure. “I know that you’re sorry. You said so. That’s proof enough for me, sweetheart.”

Oh. That’s all there is to it, apparently.

Steve’s acutely aware that the emotion streaking through his chest is relief — relief that he doesn’t have to jump through hoops to gain anything back. Doesn’t have to open his mouth or spread his legs just to earn back his partners affections for a heat of the moment mistake.

He said he was sorry and Eddie forgave him. That’s it. That’s all it took. Like an ill-weighted scale, all the relief slides down into a strange hot shame. Oh god, he’s just come in and then— and Eddie hadn’t even— and Steve had thought—

“Oh, fuck, I’m sorry, that must’ve—“ Steve reels back, the embarrassment from earlier rearing up inside him close to pure mortification. He pulls his hand from Eddie’s grip, all of it suddenly wrong, so so wrong. “I’m sorry, that was so weird of me to offer—“

“Hey, hey, hey, no.” Eddie’s cutting in before Steve gets very far, firmly planting both hands onto Steve’s shoulders to keep him from receding any further. “Don’t apologise for that. That’s… Steve, will you look at me please?”

Nope, a small voice inside him answer, with a quiver. Looking at the trailer floor is so much easier than what Eddie’s asking.

There’s been many times where Steve has felt a bit dumb but this? This feels like a special kind of stupid. The word throbs in his chest painfully as he wonders how he’d got so turned around. He wants to apologise again.

“Stevie?” Eddie says his name again, a soft coo. One of the hands on Steve’s shoulders shifts, hesitating for a moment, before gingerly cradling his jaw. Steve lets Eddie tilt his face up, reluctantly dragging his gaze up to his boyfriend’s face.

Eddie is all sweetness, eyes soft and smile encouraging. It’s his tenderness that makes Steve exhale, a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding and he can’t help the way he sags just a bit and leans into Eddie’s hold.

Eddie gives a quiet hum. “No more apologies, okay?”

Steve nods, the motion a bit slow. It sort of feels as though it’s a little harder to move against gravity, like the air is thick molasses. He’s tired. Why is he so tired? He wonders if it’s the mountainous relief that’s still trickling out his body.

“We- we’ll need to talk about that later,” Eddie nods along to his words, voice all tender. The way he says it lets Steve know it’s not a bad thing. “But for now I think I’d just rather hold you. Can I do that?”

How backwards. Steve had come here to apologise, to make it up to Eddie, and now he’s the one being comforted. And yet, his nod comes much easier this time. It’s probably a bit too eager but Steve’s just about drowned in his embarrassment tonight so what’s some more?

Eddie’s hands move and grip Steve’s hands in his lap, giving a comforting squeeze— then waits, doesn’t move until Steve gives another squeeze back.

Then Eddie’s rising, standing up and pulling Steve up with him. It’s quiet, Steve hiding the tiny shake in his hands by squeezing Eddie’s hand so tight he won’t notice — til Eddie’s knees crack, terribly loud in the silence, and he whispers a loud, “Ow, fuck.”

Steve can’t help it, he laughs, the sound bursting out of him. Fuck, his boyfriend is an old man sometimes.

Then Eddie laughs too, that glorious sound that Steve could bottle and get drunk on and then they’re both laughing — and Eddie is tugging Steve into his bedroom, both of them collapsing into the creaky bed. The springs whine under their weight but it goes unheard.

Eddie does his best to bundle Steve in his arms, accidentally sticking his elbow into Steve’s side but it doesn’t even matter. Eddie cuddles are a fuckin’ delicacy as far Steve’s concerned— when he’s happy with the way he’s wrapped himself around Steve, full Koala style, he squeeezes.

It forces a pathetic sounding wheeze out from Steve, quickly spiralling into another laugh because who has ever loved him this way? This well? Between the threads of relief that pluck on his heartstrings is white hot love.

Steve already knows what’s coming next, what is always the second step in Eddie cuddles. Instead of hiding his face away into Eddie’s chest, like he’s done a thousand times before, he sticks his face out. Chin jutted out, face exposed, and ready for kisses.

Eddie doesn’t deny him. It’s a wet smush of quick kisses, on his cheeks, his nose, his eyelids — Eddie lets out little ‘mwahs’ as he goes, in a sickly sweet voice that Steve adores.

Faintly, inside his chest Steve’s heart sighs. Because no apology, no forgiveness, has ever been like this, this simple, this easy. Equal comfort — like Eddie was aware Steve had been suffering on the other end of the silent treatment, at regretting his own words.

Steve silently hopes it’ll always be this way, even though another part deeper down knows it’ll be. That arguments with Eddie might involve childish silent treatment, tongues poked out and boots stamped — but that apologies would never be a test. Never more than an honest admittance of regret in the form of words.

In the way Eddie presses a particularly slimy kiss against his cheek, hard enough it makes Steve’s cheek squish, he thinks he might not have to worry much at all.

tags: @disorganisedbee @estrellami-1 @moonshadows-13 @qubert18 @fxndom-hoe @nelotegreitic @justforthedead89 @avacrebs @yikes-a-bee @just-a-tiny-void @stevesbipanic @penny-lane-bitch @clarakeanen @weeennussy

[pekoehoneyncream]

Ghoaptober # 30

Prompt: Silence

Words: 1300~

TW: None (sfw)

This version of Ghoaptober was created by @spadesandshovels

The obligatory Soap gets told to shut up fic.

Enjoy!

Soap clenched his hands into the loose fabric at the knees of his trousers, fighting to not let his legs bounce. He’d woken up with energy to burn and had been excited to go on today’s mission, but he’d accidentally spoken over Price when their Captain was trying to give them a final debrief before heading out. A few times. Price hadn’t been cruel, but he had firmly asked Soap to keep mum until he was done speaking, and Soap always hated feeling like he was disappointing his team. 

The transport came to a stop with a dying screech of Military Grade brakes and the one-four-one piled out. 

“Alright, we’ve got four buildings to clear and all night to do it,” Price reiterated, “Let's get to it.”

There was a chorus of ‘Yessir’s and they headed out. 

Soap b-lined for the southernmost building that he was to clear, well it was less a b-line and more tactical crouch-running from cover to cover in the direction of the southernmost building, but it’s the thought that counts. 

“In position,” He radios in, and belatedly realizes that he’d accidentally cut into the middle of what Gaz was saying. He’d been so stuck in his own head that all the comm chatter had fallen into background noise. 

“MacTavish.” That single stern word from Price was worse than any screamed reprimand Soap had ever withstood.

“Sorry, Sir.” Soap winced. 

“Don’t do it again.” Price warned, then moved on, “Garrick, say again.”

An ugly feeling sloshed in Soap’s belly, he wanted to apologise again, to make them understand that it was an honest mistake, that he wasn’t trying to be disrespectful, but the need to keep quiet won. 

He couldn’t fuck it up more if he just shut up. 

It wasn’t an easy task, as innumerous behavioral evaluations and report cards dating back to pre-school can all attest. 

“John shows great potential as a student, but would benefit from improving his focus and listening skills in class.” 

“Candidate displays persistent inability to understand when to refrain from speaking; despite receiving numerous corrections.”

“Mactavish’s tendency to engage in excessive verbal commentary during briefings and team exercises detracts from operational efficiency. Increased discipline in his communication is recommended.” 

With a deep breath, Soap slid the sensitivity of his comm mic down, wishing it was push-to-talk, and proceeded into the building, idly listening to his teammates report as they cleared floors in their own buildings. 

A grunt exploded from his chest as he stepped into a room only to have something slam into his back, the feeling of a knife punching into his shoulder alerted him to the fact that it was a hostile. They must have been sneaking along behind him in the hall somehow. Soap dropped his gun to hang from its sling and grappled for the upper hand, ignoring the burn of the hunk of metal sunk into his shoulder. Arms tangled around his neck and he slammed himself backward, crushing the tango between himself and the hard wall to daze them. 

The tango was definitely dazed, but it was most likely by the way the building immediately started collapsing around their ears than anything Soap did. 

Soap knew there’d be no outrunning gravity, so -with much cursing- he huddled himself into the smallest ball he could, pulling his arms in tight to his chest and ducking his head between his knees an instant before the debris hit him. 

Ghost was worried. Johnny’s voice had sounded so small when he’d apologized, he wanted to check in, but couldn’t allow himself to become distracted on a mission. 

A sudden commotion crackled over the comms, there were a few words of barely audible vicious Scots Gaelic cursing, then a tremor ripped through the building Ghost was in. Sending it shaking like a house of cards one puff away from falling over. He reported that he was implementing an immediate evacuation, and by Price and Gaz’s quick agreeances they were in the same sinking boat as Ghost. As he moved towards the bottom floor, ear ringing squeals screamed over the comms and Ghost had to fight the urge to yank off his headset and pitch it out the earnest window. 

“Comms test. Sound off,” Price commanded. 

“Ghost here.” 

“Gaz here.”

The sound of a paper shredder trying its hand at singing opera ripped over the line and self preservation forced Ghost into joining Price and Gaz in demanding that Soap shut up and stop talking immediately. 

Pinching his nose, he blew hard in a desperate bid to banish the ringing from his ears, it faded but didn’t disappear and Ghost gave his head a hard shake. He swore that he could feel his eyes vibrating, but kept moving for the exit, occasionally stretching his jaw to pop his ears. 

Converging around the rubble that used to be the South building with Price and Gaz, Ghost felt spikes pushing free from the leaden ball of concern for Johnny that had been weighing down his gut. 

“Johnny?” 

Ghost’s brain eagerly twisted the screech he got over the comms in return into screams. 

“Soap, get off the comms!” Price snapped, his hand was hovering over his earpiece, visibly fighting to not rip it out of his ear.

Ghost shot a questioning look at the unflinching Gaz and the Sergeant obligingly tilted his head so Ghost could see that he’d dialed the incoming volume of his comms down to the bare minimum without turning them off entirely. 

“Soap, without using the comms, we need you to signal your location,” Price laid out slowly and clearly. 

A metallic banging started up, distressingly, coming from the midst of the rubble, after a moment it was clear that it was patterned. Ghost took off his headset to hear it more clearly, cocking his head as he tried to decode it. 

“It’s morse,” Gaz mumbled, straining his ears. 

“R.” Price muttered, “R, N.”

“I got Q,” Ghost added.

“R,N,Q?” Gaz questioned, “Wha-”

“QRN!” Price exclaimed triumphantly, “He’s using Q code,”

It’s been an age since Ghost brushed up his Q code, he knew the baby’s basics, but not the whole book. He wasn’t surprised that Johnny knew it, and was equally unsurprised that Price recognized it. Price loved languages and Johnny was a literal jack-of-all-trades, he knew a lot about a lot of things. 

“Yes. Soap you're only transmitting static.” Price radioed, “Are you receiving clear?”

More banging. The letter C this time. An affirmative. 

“Are you stuck?”

Another C.

“Are you hurt?”

Another C, followed by a negating N. 

Price looked to them in confusion at the mixed message, but Ghost and Gaz had no answers for him. 

“Say again, Soap.” 

There was a pause, then a much longer sequence. L. I. T. L. E.

“A little,” Price breathed the word with heavy relief, muttering to himself “Yes and no, means kinda. Alright. Okay” With another deep breath, he radioed back to Soap, cutting off the renewed banging that had started up in the pause. 

“Rog, Soap. You’re just stuck. You don’t need a medic?”

A clear N.

Ghost had started pacing around the edge of the collapse, trying to hone in on where Soap was signalling from. 

“Can you not speak?”

The first C had Ghost’s heart leaping out of his throat, but thankfully the clanging continued into a longer word. The surge of relief that hit Ghost made him a bit woozy. 

C.O.M.M

“Oh!” Gaz perked up, “Soap uses an hot throat mic, if he talks it’ll hit us with the feedback again.” 

Gaz had kindly transmitted his explanation over comms for Soap to hear as well and the other Sergeant banged out an agreeing C.

“Okay, Soap. Just keep making noise and we’ll find you.” Price assured. 

Soap breathed as deep a sigh of silent relief as the bit of scaffolding folded over his chest would allow, then took up smacking the rock in his hand against the beam with renewed vigor. He would have just reached up to switch off his outgoing comms and shouted for help, but his arms were firmly pinned at his sides by the same rude bit of scaffolding.

“Johnny,” The welcome sound of Ghost’s voice cut in, “Are you fucking tapping out Humpty Dumpty.”

Thank You For Reading!

Q code, is essentially just a bunch of standardized short hands for morse, QRN is "Are you troubled by static?".

I said in number 13 that I could not guarantee that would be the last time I dropped a building on Soap and here I am fulfilling it, because I am naught but a slave at Chekov's altar.

PekoeHoneynCream's Masterlist

[save-the-villainous-cat]

The secret relationship between a Hero and a Villain gets exposed to an enraged public and now they gotta go on an apology tour together

"There's been a severe and continuous lapse in my judge-"

"Don't you DARE fucking say that! My reputation is on the line!"

“This counts as community service, right?”

The hero took in a deep breath and finally managed to pull their eyes away from the piece of paper which had been given to them. It was a long apology, written for them by someone else. Meaningless words thrown into a pot and stirred.

More than frustrated the hero loathed the next speech, the next apology. They knew it was all politics, supposed to show around what kind of power they had over the villain. It was explained as a misunderstanding, as a scheme the hero had come up with to control the villain.

Which was a lie.

“Community service for you, yes. Though I doubt they will actually count it as such. You’ll go to jail. No doubt.”

“Eh. Amazing.” The villain looked through the drinks on the cart and hummed quietly. For quite a while both of them had decided to…take a break. The hero didn’t like it and they didn’t dare thinking about someone else. God, they didn’t want anyone else but the people were mad and the hero was too afraid of the public to stand up for their relationship.

The public really was a leviathan. An uncontrollable mass of complex human beings that wouldn’t stop once they found a reason to complain.

“I’ll try my best to bail you out. I never thought we would have to apologise for being in love.”

“I don’t think the people buy it anyway,” the villain said. They shrugged and found a bottle they liked. They turned around to their lover and smiled sheepishly. “Maybe I should try to sing my next apology.”

The hero sighed and pinched the bridge of their nose.

“Stop joking about this. I’ve told you my reputation is on the line.”

“We both know you don’t really care about that.” The villain turned the bottle in their hand, looking at it intensively as if it could turn into wine eventually. “You’re sick of your own obedience. Sacrificing yourself for the queen in the beehive — you’re tired of it eventually.”

“No, it’s the right thing to do. I have to set an example. I know it sounds odd…no one should apologise for being in love. But given the circumstances and who we are it’s relatively understandable,” the hero said. It was an easy lie. Obviously they hated this.

But they had to keep up the charade. Even in front of the villain.

“Hm. Keep telling yourself that.” Suddenly, the bottle was on the table and the villain’s fingers slid down the hero’s neck. Involuntarily, the hero’s eyes widened. They hadn’t actually touched the villain in a long time. “You can keep apologising all you want but you know it won’t change anything. People aren’t blind when it comes to love.”

“People are blind whenever they want to be.”

“That a confession?” The hero looked up at them, felt their cold fingers moving up and down.

“Merely an observation. They will devour us if we don’t repent.”

“I’d rather be devoured than let some…scum dictate my life.” They paused. “I love you. Is that so wrong?”

“Yes.” The hero swallowed. They weren’t in the mood for fighting. They were afraid of it, actually. Afraid that their mask would crack and splinter and that they would be tempted by the villain. That some brilliant scheme of theirs made the hero decide otherwise, made them run away or choose a different path. “Compassion towards the enemy is wrong. That’s what they think. That’s what they’re supposed to think.”

“And what do you think?”

Shit. The hero hadn’t paid enough attention. The villain got them.

The villain used their nails to scratch the hero’s neck gently.

“Am I a waste of your time?”

“No,” the hero whispered. “It’s…more difficult than that.”

“Oh, I am sure it is.” The villain let go of them and their attention jumped back to the bottle. “Just be careful that you don’t devour yourself. You know our end is always our own fault.”

They kissed the hero’s cheek gently and just for a moment, the hero allowed themselves to feel loved again.

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Stress Release | IDW Rodimus x f!robot reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 1100+

Warnings: Smut ( desk and rough interfacing ), dom reader, sub Rodimus, control play, mummy kink and licking. NSFW 18+.

Notes: This went completely different to what I had planned from the start but I'm honestly very happy how it turned out. First attempt in writing Hot Rod/Rodimus. I love that flame boy! Also taking notice I've been managing to keep my requests within 1k, for now at least. Enjoy this hot stuff. 🥰

☕ Coffee

"Desk. Now."

Rodimus had barged into your office so suddenly, barking the order so bluntly that it made you snort a giggle. He's horny. Your conjunx is always damn horny in the weirdest of times, you find it quite adorable.

"Why?" You choose to tease as you keep your focus on the data pad in your servos, pretending you didn't notice what the fuss was all about.

"You're kidding, right?" His wounded expression almost makes you cave, but not quite. "Look at me! I'm all heated up and it's bothering me. I need to frag, like right now. Magnus has been up my aft all day!" You have to cover your mouth to stop yourself from bursting out laughing from his poor choice of words. "Not like that! Come on! Just a quick frag, that's all I need."

"Is fragging all I'm good for?" You set the data pad aside and lean back in your chair, leg crossing over the other on top of your thigh as you gave a lingering intense stare at him.

His shoulders slump down, defeated and letting out a heavy vent. "N-no, no, of course not, you're so much more than that. Please I just....please?" You could hear him beg all day.

Standing up you slowly make your way around the table and sit on top of it. Rodimus smiles like a giddy sparkling and skips over to you, though you stop him with the end of your pede, sly smile on your face.

"Easy now cowboy. Mama would like an apology."

"For what? What did I do?"

"You were very rude just then, demanding me to get on the desk like a spoilt brat. Mama doesn't like it when you get all bossy." Your voice was like silk, smooth and tender, yet also very controlling that latches onto him in a vise grip. Rodimus knows what you're doing.

"Really? We're doing this now? Thought that game was only for inside our quarters."

"What's wrong? Afraid for anyone to see just how you fall apart under your mama? Besides, you love it, me being bossy. You can't help yourself."

Gently you rub his heated panel with your pede, earning a startled whimper from him, causing you to smirk softly from his falling apart reaction just by a simple rub. The guy had zero self control over himself sometimes.

When he doesn't say anything, you add on. "Now, are you going to behave?" Though you do enjoy him playing the spoilt brat, you were pretty eager for a good hard frag as well. You just need to teach him some manners first.

"Yes...mama." Rodimus meets your gaze, optics fuzzy and cheek plating heated with a pink hue, giving him such a soft cuteness.

"Good boy."

Moving your pede you move it up against his chassis and rest it in a good flexible position under his chin. One thing he loves about you is just how well you can flex and bend yourself.

"Lick. Apologise to your mama."

Rodimus always wants to please you, and he never fails. Leaning down, he drags his warm glossa against your pede, kissing and licking the area at your command, sliding his glossa over your wheel and making it swivel a little. You smile, giddy with pride, loving the sight of him wanting to keep you happy.

"I'm sorry, mama." He whispers, soft baby blue optics moving up to look at you in the most innocent and cutest way.

"You're forgiven, darling." You move your pede off and sit back down, thighs parted with panel cover retracted and revealing your already soaking valve. "Now, you're after some stress release?"

"Yes, please." He vented heavily, the sight of you almost makes him overload right there standing. "Please mama, I'm begging you."

"Since you asked so nicely." You purr out in delight before taking hold of his waist with both your pedes, tugging him closer against you and grinding yourself against his hot covering. "Come on big boy, fill your mama. Don't hold back."

His broad, goofy smile is something you'll always lust after. You watch as his panel retracts and his throbbing spike bobs out, intensely hot and screaming for action. He doesn't hold back and spreads your thighs even wider, pressing himself against you as you keep yourself on the desk, right before he bluntly thrusts his thick length into your waiting and eager valve.

The desk shakes as he impales you firmly without holding back, just as you commanded. There's no pause and he sets a rough pace, thrusting his cable into you through an intense rut that is boiling through him.

Tightening your thighs, you hold on while letting out rowdy moans that fill the room, mixing in with his rigid grunts and hitched vents. You feel every bumpy ridge running across your channel, pulsing wildly like a rapid fire, sending bursts and sparks up through your entire frame.

"So good! Roddy, oh frag!"

"Oh mama, fragging good mama!"

In the room, you both always got creative, to keep things spicy between you both and the thrill to keep on rolling. You loved him, so much. He deserved the best and you're happy to provide that however possible.

His servos hold firmly at your waist as he drags you back against him with each thrust delivered, your flooding lubricants pooling against the rocking desk and dripping down onto the floor between his thrusts, fragging you thoroughly, and grinding his pelvic plating against your sensitive node.

He buries his face against your neck, dentas nibbling against your neck cables and holding you close as you embrace his roaring heat, thighs clenching tightly as your valve does too, sucking him whole.

Rodimus has been fighting with himself and holding back for as long as possible, until he simply couldn't control it anymore.

"Mama...mama!" He chants, hips rutting firmly against you before overloading, his thrusts still present to make sure you overload yourself, which proved to be easier as you don't keep yourself lingering behind and let out a thundering mewl and clinging onto him.

Your overoad bursts out heavily, your hips still grinding against him as you ride it out as you both let your cooling fans kick in and vent through the intense frag you just had.

His spike remains inside, twitching madly, making you whimper through your desire and reach your servo up to caress his cheek plating. "You're so big Roddy, filling mama so much with your fluids. I think you'll spark me for sure this time."

The talk about sparklings has happened, but with different wars happening, it wasn't the best time to raise one. Though that doesn't slow either of you down from fragging. Anything could happen.

"Oh darling, I fragging love you so much!" Rodimus praises his worshipping over you before taking your face under his servos and kissing you passionately, devouring your lips and coiling his glossa with your own with an intense greed.

Moving away together you let out a silky giggle and nuzzle your face into his neck, embracing the hot mech you call your conjunx endura as you feel his spike nest comfortably inside you.

"I love you too, Roddy, my handosme hot flame."

[helpimhyperfixating]

Kinktober Day 3: Glove kink - Jotaro x Reader

Kinktober masterlist

CW: GN!reader, mafia leader Jotaro, fingering, beyond that it’s pretty much you get what the title says :)

Word Count: 1787

“No, darling.” Jotaro spoke, his smooth and deep voice commanding and reaching every part of the room, even if it was just you and him.

Panting softly, you looked up at the mafia leader, sitting in a neat suit, hands covered by black, latex half gloves that stretched around his fingers, leaving his palms exposed. A way for him to feel your warmth and skin without leaving fingerprints, he had said.

Your face felt flushed as you sat before him on your knees, completely naked while he remained fully dressed, his right hand holding your face, making sure you kept your eyes on him.

“We are going to do this my way, understood?” Jotaro spoke as he leaned in, squeezing your cheeks together while he analysed your face, waiting to see if you’ll give any objections. None came, making him lean back in his chair, seemingly satisfied while he let go of your face.

“Up.” The mafia boss spoke, patting his thigh in a clear command, the move causing his sleeve to ride up ever so slightly, revealing the purple and teal swirls inked onto his arm.

Swallowing softly, you blushed and got up, feeling more than exposed before him.

Jotaro Kujo, notorious leader of the Joestar family - your boss.

It was never meant to be like this, you simply wanted to get in, earn some good money, and get out. But life had a funny way of throwing a wrench in the wheel.

You’d fucked up. What was supposed to be an easy supply job had ended with you being robbed by another mafia gang - rivals. And while you’d gotten off unscathed, all the items had been stolen, and you’d gotten the attention of the man in charge.

Just fifteen minutes ago you’d been ordered into his office where he made you strip and sit before him on your knees, his form looming over you as he remained relaxed, his legs crossed.

Under his scrutiny you’d sat in silence, your head bowed down as you tried to think of anything to say to apologise, to make it right, to get out of the punishment that would assuredly follow. Yet when you finally began to speak your words of apology, he shut you up, placing both feet on the floor before you and grabbing your chin.

And now here you were, hugging your naked self as you slowly approached, glancing between his stern face and his lap where his hand still sat. Not even inviting you - no - commanding you to sit down.

Embarrassed and anxious, you turned your body to sit down sideways, trying to save at least a little decorum, but that had the mafia leader click his tongue in warning, causing you to freeze before you turned straight again, your face burning even brighter as you carefully lifted your leg, placing your knee next to his hip before mirroring with your other leg on his other side, slowly sitting yourself down to straddle him.

Awkward, you looked at him, only to see him looking at you, a single eyebrow raising and you suppressed a whimper, looking back down as you slowly shuffled forward, moving to actually straddle him instead of sitting on his knees like you were.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Jotaro spoke after a few seconds, your stomach nearly pressed into his from how close you now sat.

This time, it seemed like he did want an answer so you swallowed, agreeing softly. “No it wasn’t.”

Leaning back in his chair, Jotaro let his gaze run down your body, his hand coming up to rest on your side where his thumb rubbed back and forth across your stomach. It felt almost like he was determining quality of a meat.

“You know why you’re here, don’t you?” He asked and you looked down, nodding.

“It won’t happen again, I swear, I-“ Jotaro cut you off by grabbing your face once again, lifting it to look directly into your eyes while he squeezed your cheeks together - though it wasn’t rough or painful.

“I don’t like verbal apologies. They’re empty and useless.” The man mused, letting go of your cheeks to instead cup your chin, your heart hammering in your chest as you felt the cool texture of his half gloves on your skin. “This is your first offense so I’ll let you off with a warning.” He said, lifting your chin a bit while his thumb on your side now started tracing the space by your ribs. “I need your loyalty, however.”

Swallowing nervously, you looked into his eyes, his pupils slightly blown out while he gazed at you, a single strand of hair running past his forehead, breaking up his otherwise well put together appearance. He was expecting a show of said loyalty.

Shifting slightly on his lap, Jotaro’s eyes darkened even further if that were possible while you brought your hand up and took hold of his wrist by your chin.

You slowly tried to life his hand away from your chin and he let you, giving you confidence to continue on your path as you opened your mouth and took one of his gloved fingers into your mouth.

It was a strange texture as you lifted your tongue to wet the digit, seeing a flash in the raven’s eyes as he took over, pushing a second finger into your mouth, pushing down on your tongue before rubbing back and forth along the muscle, his thumb landing on your chin for leverage.

“There we go.” He praised, continuing to coat his fingers with your saliva until he pulled the digits out of your mouth, admiring the added shine to his glove.

Breathing softly but heavily, you were sitting there on his lap, waiting for any reaction as the mafia leader then gripped your waist tight with the hand that sat there, pulling your pelvis flush to his, your chests connected as he reached his right arm around your back, the palm of his hand gliding down your ass before he placed his wet fingers by your entrance, pushing in without warning.

Gasping, you clenched down around him, whimpering at the penetration while Jotaro gently shushed you, his lips right by your ear. “You’ll be good and take it, won’t you?” He asked and you nodded almost instantly, biting your lip. “Good and loyal, how I like.” He whispered, kissing right by your ear.

Slowly, he started moving his fingers, thrusting in and out of you, your saliva still coating the gloves and making the drag through your walls easy.

Panting, you were leaned up against his chest, your hands clenched into fists as you held them between his stomach and your own, wanting to cling to him but too nervous that he wouldn’t like it.

Jotaro was quick to fix that however, his lips right by your ear. “Hold onto me, sweet thing. I can tell you need it.” He hummed, seeming to truly be enjoying himself as he fingerfucked you, starting to go faster and faster, making sure to hit that one spot deep inside.

Moaning as he did, your hands unfurled as you clung to his jacket, his hand on your waist moving to sit right above your ass, beginning to rock your crotch into his while his fingers were still buried deep inside.

The smooth latex of the glove rubbed across that sweet spot in your walls, shallowly thrusting to keep as much contact as he could, rubbing back and forth while he rocked your front into the bulge in his expensive pants, making you leak all over it as you let out breathy moans.

“Sir-“ You whimpered out, feeling him speed up his thrusts, the sensation of his glove inside you turning you on way more than you’d cared to admit.

“Are you gonna cum?” He whispered into your ear, still rocking you into his own erection in time with his thrusts, making your moans grow and you nodded frantically, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach grow, steady and hard. “Keep rocking.” He ordered, pulling his left hand away from your back to instead place his fingers back at your mouth, waiting for you to obediently open up.

You did just that, rocking your hips like a bitch in heat while he kept thrusting his fingers deep inside you, his left hand now sticking three gloves fingers onto your tongue as you wrapped your lips around them and sucked.

Embarrassed, humiliated, yet so so aroused, you just turned your brain off, drooling around his fingers as you chased your orgasm, tasting and feeling the latex of his gloves, even smelling it as you let out a muffled moan.

Seeing your eyes go hazy as you sucked so greedily on his fingers, Jotaro grunted as he shifted in his seat, letting his head rest back against the chair as his mouth opened a little, your rocking turning him on more and more while he kept his right hand firmly where it was, bringing you to the brink of orgasm.

Feeling yourself approach climax, you began to whine more, little breathy noises of pleasure leaving you every time he thrusted his fingers in.

“There you go, let go.” Jotaro grunted, rubbing the digits in your mouth along your tongue, watching your drool coat his glove and down to the exposed part of his hand, making him shift his hips again as he cursed, his eyes transfixed on the way your lips wrapped around the latex.

With his shift however, his bulge pressed perfectly against you as you rocked your hips, together with his fingers hitting that sweet spot inside your walls. Sucking in a breath, you moaned as your walls clenched around him, sucking the digits in just that bit further as you orgasmed, the raven purposely curling his fingers inside you, making you buck your hips as you rode out the waves with muffled moans.

Only once your orgasm faded did Jotaro let up, pulling his fingers out of you and away from you completely, causing you to gasp in relief as you clung to his jacket still, panting to get your breath and composure back.

“You did well.”

His low voice brought you back down to earth as you looked up, seeing him looking down at you with the smallest of smirks.

“Thank you.” You whispered, casting your gaze down but Jotaro chuckled, placing his drool-slick finger under your chin to raise it, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I’ll know who to call when I need it, hm?” He asked and you blushed, feeling his bulge still pressed so firmly against you.

Yet still, you immediately knew that you would obey his every whim.

“Yes, sir.”

[hoedamn-eron]

baby, please - part 17

It's your first Christmas without your family, but Santiago makes it up to you.

Warnings: Mega heavy on Christmas talk. Mentions of pregnancy complications from the previous chapter. Mentions of shitty in-laws. Gabrielle isn't actually in it, but she's being a bit distant but you know. It's fine. Lot's of dialogue, again. Not proofread whatsoever. Santi and Frankie have an argument we're not privvy to. Word count: 4,724 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Apologies this is late, but here is Christmas with Santi! I did mention it in a post, but I'll mention it again here: please be aware that part 18 won't be posted until 11/01 (11th January) due to a busy Christmas period. I need to catch up with myself, and I start a new job in the New Year, so I won't be to write as much as I was able to before.

Edited because Gabs isn't married to Andy, she's married to Matthew 😂 it's Courtney who is married to Andy! Now I'm going to have to double check all of my chapters to see if everyone is married to the correct person 😂

Part 16 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 18

You’d been taking it easy since your stay at the hospital a few weeks ago.

You took less responsibilities at work (your friends wanted you to cut down on your hours, but you just couldn’t do that), and you begrudgingly accepted the help of others to help you pack for your move next month. Speaking of your friends, they’d been checking in on you multiple times a week, and every time, you tell them you’re fine. Really.

The twins were fine. You were fine. Everyone was fine.

“You have a case of placenta previa.”

You look at Dr Montgomery, confused, from your place on the ultrasound table. “What’s that?”

“Your placenta is low, and covering the cervix,” she replied, looking at the screen as she pressed a few keys on the keyboard, then moving the wand over your bump. “Usually, it’s detected at your 20-week ultrasound, but it must have been missed, especially since you’re having twins.”

“Is it...is everyone okay, is it dangerous?”

“It can be risky, but we’ll keep an eye on you,” Dr Montgomery said. “The bleeding was caused by this, and stress. You’ll need to come back for another ultrasound at 32 to 33 weeks. It may have moved on its own by then, but otherwise, we may have to look at a caesarean birth at 37 weeks.”

“What? No! I wanted to go as natural as possible,” you say, your eyes widening. You had a plan! “I can’t be out of commission for 6 weeks with twins!”

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not what you wanted, but I strongly advise you look into it,” she replies, giving you a sympathetic look before turning off the machine. “I also recommend you take it easy if you can. I’m not saying strict bed rest, but just...relax a bit more.”

So that’s what you’ve done...you’ve relaxed. You’ve downloaded a kick counting app, something you should have done a while ago, so you could count the kicks from the babies, just in case. So far, they’d been back to normal – and by ‘normal’, you mean they were using your bladder as a soccer ball, with a shot to the kidneys every now and then.

Santi had arrived in the hospital just as Dr Montgomery had given you the okay to go home. Beth had left just after the results of your ultrasound (at your insistence), so you were packing your bag as Santi ran into your room, breathless and eyes wide. You’d looked at him with equally as wide eyes, before you hurriedly caught him up, telling him everything was okay, that you just needed to take it easy.

You introduced him to Dr Montgomery, who explained the situation a little better. It calmed Santi down a little, but you still noticed him tapping his foot as he nodded along, his hands resting on his hips as he listened intently. He kept glancing at you, as if you would collapse or suddenly disappear.

He gave you a lift home (in his truck) and insisted he stay for dinner. He cooked some food for the both of you, and you both ate on your couch, Santi wanting to know every detail to what happened. He apologised again and again for not being there, but you told him it was Thanksgiving weekend, you don’t blame him for not being there. No-one could predict what would have happened.

Dr Montgomery had booked you in for another scan a few days before Christmas. Santi insisted on going with you, which you were grateful for, of course. Unfortunately, your placenta hadn’t moved much, and you were booked in for a c-section for the end of January.

You sulked as you walked out of the hospital, pouting.

Santi gave you a small nudge, walking beside you. “Hey, it’s going to be okay.”

“I wanted to give birth naturally,” you mumble, as you both approach the truck.

Santi grabs your arm gently, stopping you as you stop at the bed of the truck. “I know it’s not what you wanted, and that does suck for you. I’m sorry. But Dr Montgomery said it was the safest option for you and them.”

You sighed. “I feel like it’s...it’s like I’m not...like I’ve already failed as a mother, by bringing them into the world that way.”

Santi looks at you, his eyes filled with empathy. He places a comforting hand on your shoulder. "Listen to me," he says, his voice soft but firm. "Having a c-section doesn't make you any less of a mother. What matters is that you and the babies are safe. That's the priority."

You lean against the truck, staring at the ground as a mix of emotions wash over you. "I just wanted everything to be perfect, you know? A beautiful, natural birth story to tell them when they're older."

Santi gently lifts your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Life never goes according to plan, especially when it comes to something as unpredictable as having kids. We should know.” he grins at you, wiggling his eyebrows a little.

You give a small laugh at his quip.

He continues. “But that doesn't lessen the love you have for them or the strength it takes to do what's best for their well-being." He pauses, before giving you a reassuring smile. "You're not failing as a mom. If anything, you're making the tough decisions now because you love them so much."

You take a deep breath, absorbing his words, before nodding. “Okay.”

Santi studies you for a moment. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a comforting hug, and you melt into him, allowing the warmth of his embrace to provide a momentary escape from the overwhelming emotions of your appointment with Dr Montgomery. "We'll get through this together.”

You nod against him, just holding him a little longer than necessary before pulling away. “Thank you.”

He gives another laugh. “Don’t thank me for speaking the truth, querida.”

You wipe away at the few stray tears in your eyes before turning to him. “Come on, I gotta get home. Help me get in this junk heap.”

“Hey, don’t insult my truck,” Santi says in mock offence, before he smirks and opens the door for you, and helps you climb in.

He drives you in silence as you talk to him about work, how you’ve taken a step back and you hate it but you’re willing to do it for less stress. Harriet was a little apprehensive when you told her, that she needed you on board for this newest client, that the product was about to launch but you didn’t back down. You told her that you weren’t backing away, but just taking on less of the load. Emily and Kelsie were happy to take some of the tasks; Hell, Kelsie was practically frothing at the mouth for the opportunity to add on some more responsibility than she already had. She told you herself she wanted most of the glory since this was her first big client.

“Bit of a shitty thing for Harriet to do, guilt trip you like that.”

You shrug. “That’s just Harriet. I’ve grown used to it,” you say. “Been there long enough.”

“Since graduation, right?”

You nod. “Yup.”

“Ever thought about leaving?”

Your eyes widened as you turn to look at him. “Why would I do that? I’ve built myself up, I have a relationship and reputation with clients.”

Santi shrugged nonchalantly, keeping his eyes on the road. “I dunno. Seems like you’re underappreciated and overworked, from what you’ve told me. Is there no other marketing firm in Florida?”

“There is - “

“Shop around,” Santi said, as if he wasn’t asking you to consider leaving the only current stability you had in your life right now. “See if anyone is hiring, for a better position or just to be treated a little better.”

“I think it’ll be the same everywhere,” you say, laughing a little.

Santi shrugged. “Just putting it out there.”

You nod. “I mean...I’ll think about it. Maybe after Christmas. Or after I’m back from maternity leave.”

It goes quiet again for a few minutes before Santi asks, “What are you doing for Christmas?”

You shrug. “I have no plans. Beth offered to have me over again, but I feel like I can’t keep intruding on their time.”

“If they’ve asked you to join them, I don’t think you’ll be intruding.”

Your family had still not contacted you. You had messaged the group chat again, accepting that there would probably be no reply still (and there wasn’t). You had another episode, alone this time, sitting on your couch late at night, stereotypically sobbing into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream as you watched Home Alone. It had been your favourite as a child, and something you had watched together with your family, after you’d put the decorations up. This year, you had no tree, no decorations, and you watched it alone.

It had been a sad night.

“You could always...” Santi said a little awkwardly, before clearing his throat. “You could always spend it with me. If you wanted. You don’t have to.”

You look at him with wide eyes, but Santi keeps his gaze on the road, an air of nervousness surrounding him. “You...want to spend Christmas with me?”

“I would have asked you to Thanksgiving but I didn’t...my sisters...”

“I wasn’t expecting you to invite me,” you said, sensing his anxiousness. “Please don’t think over on that.”

“I should have invited you - “

“Santiago,” you say, firmly, causing him to give a quick glance at you before looking back at the road, turning to your apartment’s street. “I am okay. We are okay. You were visiting your family for the first time in years. I didn’t need to be there.”

He goes silent, his jaw tensing like he wants to say something else, but he just sighs through his nose and gives a tight nod.

You reach over to give his hand a reassuring squeeze. “I would love to spend Christmas with you.”

“Have you spoken to Gabs recently?”

You look at Courtney with a confused look on your face as you reach for your water. “I mean, I spoke to her last week about the kids’ Christmas presents. Why?”

You and Courtney had met up for some last-minute Christmas shopping, and you stopped for some dinner before heading home. You had to admit, Gabrielle had been a little off when you spoke to her last week and you had asked if everything was okay, but she had just told you it was Christmas stress. It wasn’t so farfetched, Gabrielle hosted every year for her and Matthew’s families, so of course there was no reason to not believe her.

“Hm,” said Courtney, her brow furrowing. “She’s been a little…weird.”

You shrug. “I mean…she seemed off when I spoke to her, and I asked her about it but she said it was Christmas stress.”

Courtney shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. It’s just…bugging me.”

“We could talk to her about it,” you say. “But you know Gabs, she’ll come to us eventually when she’s ready to let us know what’s going on.”

Courtney shook her head for a moment before giving you a look. “You’re right. You’re right! I’m just worried about her.”

“She’ll be fine,” you say. “You know what she gets like at Christmas, she’s hosting for everyone. And you know Matthew’s family.” You give Courtney a pointed look.

Courtney pulled a face. “Yeah. They’re assholes to her. But she keeps hosting!”

“Look, we tell her this every year and you know what she says – “

“’It’s only once a year’,” you both say in unison.

“Exactly,” you say. “So she’ll probably be back to normal after Christmas.”

“Fine. Fine,” said Courtney. “Let’s talk about something else. Like how you’re spending Christmas with Santiago!”

“I am,” you say, feeling your cheeks warming slightly.

“I think that’s nice,” Courtney says. “You’re like...starting your family. Getting the traditions in.”

You nod. “Yeah, I think so too. If this is something we do every year, then best start now, right?”

“You going to his place?” Courtney asked, before thanking the waitress for bringing your food over.

You nod, also thanking the waitress. “It’ll be easier since most of my stuff is packed up now. Thanks again for that, by the way.”

“No problem,” Courtney said, digging into her food. She gives you a grin. “It’s exciting, but also a little sad. It’s the end of an era, but the start of a new one.”

“In a month’s time, I’m going to be a mom,” you say, your eyes wide as if you don’t quite believe it yourself. “How weird is that?”

“Stop it,” said Courtney. “Who knew you would be the next one to have a kid?”

You snort, tucking into your own food. “I don’t think anyone thought I would have a kid, full stop.”

“No,” said Courtney, shaking her head. “I think you would have. Just in ten years.”

“Well, life didn’t work out how I’d planned,” you said, laughing. “But it’s good. Life is good.”

“And you’re happy?” Courtney asked.

Were you? Happy? You go quiet as you think. Obviously, you hadn’t planned to get pregnant, and with twins for that matter, in your tiny one-bedroom apartment, or not be speaking to your parents, or be questioning your job. But here you were, about to finish the year with a new house, amazing friends, new babies, and Santi.

Oh, Santi.

You never thought you would have met someone like Santi, even though you both weren’t together-together. You were lucky to have him; most men after one-night-stands would have left by now, but not Santi. He was sticking around, and in it for the long run. And honestly, you know he wouldn’t feel the same way about you than you felt about him, but he loved you as a friend and the mother of his kids, and you adored that he wanted to help you raise these babies together.

You slowly smile and look at Courtney. “Yeah…yeah, I’m happy.”

You pull up outside Santi’s apartment, taking a deep breath before climbing out of the car. You'd been simultaneously looking forward to Christmas with Santi, and dreading Christmas with Santi. He told you that it was his first year spending it in Florida since returning from Colombia and warned you that his Christmas dinner would probably be something he could quickly rustle up and wasn’t too much hassle - ‘very non-traditional’ was what he said. You didn’t mind; the year had been incredibly ‘non-traditional’ for you anyway.

You make your way up to his apartment, a large bag of presents in your hand. You knock, biting your lip nervously as you waited for Santi to open the door. You look up as the door opens, and you give a laugh at Santi. He was wearing an obnoxiously bright red jumper with a Santa knitted into it, and a Santa hat, and was wearing his usual jeans. He had a bottle of beer in his hand.

He holds his arms out wide as he grins at you. “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas,” you say as you step inside, still laughing at his outfit.

Santi closes the door behind you before he brings you into a quick hug. “I don’t have much of an itinerary today, but Frankie and Sarah might stop by later with Sofía.”

You nod, pulling back from him. “That works out, actually, because I got something for Sofía,” you say, motioning to your bag.

Santi gives you a small, closed-lipped smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t,” you say. “I wanted to. They’re a big part of your life, therefore, they’ll be a big part of our kids’ lives.”

Santiago doesn’t say anything as you make your way into his living room, where he had a small Christmas tree in the corner, overly decorated. You hear Santi make his way into the kitchen as you took the presents out of bag and placed them underneath, smiling as the pile grew. You look up as Santi makes his way into the living room. “Some of these from your sisters?”

He nodded, handing you a can of Diet Coke. “Yeah. I saw them last week, dropped off gifts then. I just got off the phone with them, since my nieces had just opened their Barbie dolls, with their cars, and pets, and accessories...”

You giggled, opening the can. “There’s an awful lot of girls in your family.”

He nodded, grinning. “I have a few cousins who are guys, who had a few boys. I'm not totally overruled.”

You give a small laugh as you sip at your drink. “So, do you want to do presents now? Or later? We could eat first, if you wanted.”

“The empanadas are resting in the fridge, and I have mac and cheese in the slow cooker,” said Santi, taking a gulp at his almost forgotten beer. “Got all sorts of vegetables and potatoes roasting in my oven too.”

“Sounds like a feast,” you say. You could feel your mouth watering. “Maybe we could eat soon?” you give Santi a big smile.

He chuckles at you before nodding. “I’ll put the empanadas in.”

You nod as Santi disappeared back through the kitchen. You look at the presents, and the small tree, and the fact that his living room was bare of any other decorations. Your mind wandered to the fact that this was his first Christmas since settling down, that he was in an actual home and not in a shack or seedy motel somewhere in South America. You really appreciated that he offered you his place for the day, that he’d gone out of his way – and his comfort zone – to bring you into his space again.

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

You look up at him, blinking in confusion before you realise you were crying. You give a small laugh of slight embarrassment. “I didn’t realise I was crying, I'm sorry.”

“Don’t apologise, cariño,” he said, taking a seat next to you on the floor, giving you a concerned look as he rested his hand in the middle of your back. “Is there anything I can do for you? I knew today would be difficult, I don’t want you to be here if you don’t want to be - “

“No, Santi, really, I'm fine,” you say, cutting him off. “I’m just hormonal. I cry at everything.”

He hesitated for a moment before asking, “I don’t want you to feel obligated to be here, just because I asked - “

“I want to be here, Santi,” you say, reaching over and squeezing his hand that was still wrapped around a beer. “Really, I’m fine. I just...I like that I'm here, you know? I like that you want me here.”

Santi paused for a moment, looking at you before he gives a grin. “Of course, I want you here.”

You give another weak laugh. “Okay then.”

You help him in the kitchen with the food, and of course as soon as you sit down to eat, Frankie and Sarah make their way through with Sofía, profusely apologising for interrupting for not texting beforehand. Santi told them it was fine, and after a few hugs and a quick catch up between you and the Morales’, you all sit to have something to eat.

You get to know the Morales’ a little more intimately than you did on Halloween; you were in a smaller setting with fewer people, and Sarah wasn’t so distracted by the other guests. She was fun, and loud, and someone you could see getting along with for a long time. Frankie was the opposite; quiet, and observant, but you could see how much he opened up to Santi. He wasn’t rude to you at all, including you in the conversation when he could, and you could see why Santi loved him so much.

And then there was Sofía, who giggled at everything you said, and kept trying to steal the mac and cheese on your plate, even though Sarah kept adding more to her plate. You didn’t mind, but Sarah insisted she stop doing it (“It’s becoming a whole thing, we’re trying to nip it in the bud now, while we can!”). When you all finished dinner, you offered to do the dishes, but you were rebuffed when you were lead into the living room, Santi quickly clearing up the plates, saying he’d ‘deal with them later’.

Sarah plonks you down in the armchair by the tree before she hands you an envelope. “This is more for when the babies are here than right now, but it’s valid for three years.”

You look at her in confusion before you open the envelope, mouth falling open as you take a look at the expensive gift voucher. “Sarah, I can’t accept this!”

“Oh sure you can,” she says, waving you off.

You thank her profusely, before you lean down and grab a few boxes from under the tree. “I got some things for Sofía – “

“You didn’t have to do that!” cried Sarah.

“Don’t be silly, here,” you say, handing the toddler the boxes, who took more interest in the wrapping paper than the actual present.

As you and Sarah sit, you look up for Santi and Frankie, who were strangely quiet. You’re taken aback to find them stood close together, quietly arguing with one another. Frankie was pointing at Santi’s chest and saying something too quiet for you to hear, but it was filled with anger, nonetheless. Santi merely argued back.

You look away, putting a mental note in it. You’ll ask Santi about it later.

As Sofía played with the wooden doctor’s set, and the baby doll that you’d gotten along with it, you chatted to Sarah before Frankie finally made his way over. “I think we oughta go.”

Sarah nodded. “Shoot, you’re right, we promised we’d see your mom like, an hour ago.”

As they gather their things and say their goodbyes (Santi and Frankie were still tense), you and Santi were left alone. You look around and sigh, before looking back at him. “What was that about?”

“What?” Santi asked, going around the living room and collecting wrapping paper, avoiding eye contact.

“You and Frankie, what were you arguing about?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Santi, shaking his head. “Something stupid with Benny, you know how it is.”

You don’t feel like he’s telling you the truth, but you know if you pry, Santi is more likely to close up. You slowly nod at him. “Okay. Sure, yeah.”

He finally looks at you and gives you a tight smile. “Everything is okay, hermosa.”

You hesitate before nodding then glancing at the presents under the tree. “I think we should do our gifts now.”

“Okay,” Santi said, before patting you on the back as he passed you to go back into the kitchen, tossing the papers away.

You settle on the floor by the tree, and lean over and grab a few gifts, placing them by Santi as he joined you moments later. “I didn’t go overboard - “

“I don’t believe that,” Santi said from his own place under the tree before he pulled out a small box, wrapped somewhat neatly, and placing it in front of you. “Now, this doesn’t look like a lot but - “

“Stop, Santi, it’s fine,” you say. “It’s about the sentiment.”

Santi nodded, before going quiet, glancing at you at the present. You grin and nod to him. “You go first.”

He gives a small laugh before nodding at the boxes in front of him. “Any particular order?”

“Nope,” you reply.

Like a child, Santi didn’t have to be told twice. He immediately tore into the gifts, smiling widely at the new shirts you’d bought him, and a nice watch. He immediately put it on, before admiring it.

“This is nice,” he said, still admiring it.

“I know you like swimming, so it’s waterproof too,” you say. “And it tracks your exercise. Since you refuse to get an Apple Watch, I went for the next best thing.”

“Thank you, hermosa,” he says, before opening his last gift. He pauses as he looks down at the strap for a guitar.

“I know you’ve been trying to get back into it, and I know your current strap is falling apart,” you say, smiling. “I thought you could do with an upgrade. And look!” you pull the strap from the wrapping before finding the end and pointing. “I have it engraved with your initials.”

“This is…this is great, cariño. Thank you,” he said, before he stands quickly and leaves the room. He comes back a few moments later, guitar in hand as he settles back on the floor with you, practically ripping off the old strap. He puts on the new one, and why he was fiddling with it, he pushed the small box towards you. “Like I said, it’s not a lot…”

“Santi, please,” you say as you open the gift. You pause at the sight of the Tiffany box, glancing up at Santi who was now looking at your nervously.

You open the Tiffany box, to find a silver chain-link bracelet, with a charm of a Christmas tree hanging off it. You gingerly take it out the box, looking at it more closely.

“I have more charms, but I can’t give them to you yet,” he said. “I got the tree because it’s…it’s our first Christmas together.”

Oh my God, you might burst into tears.

No, actually, you’re already crying.

“Santiago,” you say, in a high-pitched cry, looking at the bracelet, at the delicate green charm of the Christmas tree.

“Oh, no,” he said, scootching over to you and bringing you into his arms, where you sobbed into shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you cry. If you don’t like it – “

“Don’t like it!?” you cry, pushing away from him, looking between him and the bracelet. “I love it. Put it on me!” you shove it at him before presenting your wrist to him.

Santi chuckled as he shook his head in disbelief, carefully fastening the bracelet around your wrist before he gave a soft kiss to the warmth of your skin. Your heartbeat loudly in your ears as Santi gave your wrist a squeeze and he looked at you with a warm smile on his face. You look at the bracelet, the charm sitting pretty. You smiled widely at it, tears still falling down your cheeks.

“Please, stop crying,” laughed Santi, reaching up to wipe your years away.

“I can’t,” you say, laughing back as you look at him. “I’m pregnant, and hormonal, and you got me a really nice, sappy gift. I love it.”

“Good. I’m glad.” He goes quiet for a moment before he swallows nervously. “I…”

You look at him as he goes quiet. “Yeah?”

The two of you just staring at each other. Eyes locked onto his, you search for the words that seem to linger unspoken on his lips. There's a certain vulnerability in his silence, a hesitance that hangs in the air like the delicate balance before a confession.

"What is it?" you prompt again gently, your heart quickening in anticipation.

His eyes flicker nervously, and you can almost sense the internal struggle within him. It's as if he's wavering on the edge of an abyss, grappling with emotions that have finally found their way to the surface. Could he…could he be trying to say what you think he…

He takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the weight of his unspoken words. You can feel the gravity of the moment, the tension building between you two, as if the universe itself is holding its breath in anticipation of what he's about to say.

“The next charm you’ll get is in a few weeks, at the baby shower,” Santi finally said, after a long pause.

Oh. That wasn’t what you expected at all. You were –

Wait.

You pause, your brow furrowing as you look at him, tears finally stilling. “The what?”

Santi freezes, his face falling as he looks at you. “Oh, shit.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland, @itsmytimetoodream

[writingsofwesteros]

so i’ve never seen you writing fro cersei so feel free to ignore this request if you don’t like it.

i was thinking mother in low cersei punishing reader, margaery’s little sister, because she’s going to marry tommen. she just wants the best for his son and she’s ready to remind her of her position even if she’ll be future queen. maybe then cersei will try to correct her more times just for fun. she likes her all bothered, humiliated and also a little bit pleasured.

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

The Queen mother’s delicate fingers moved through your long, thick brown locks as you looked innocently through the mirror to her. “Thank you for helping me.” You whispered; the quiet had you growing nervous as well as being in the room with the famous Lioness. Gods, you wished your sister was in your place.

“Hmm, my son deserves the best.” Cersei whispered; enjoying how tense you were a little more than she should. The lioness had enjoyed the sight of your bitch of a grandmother as her face fell when the Queen picked you. The sweet, innocent rose with no thorns that would be so easy to manipulate.

You chewed on your plump, bottom lip nervously at her words. You did not believe you were the best and something inside you thought the Queen did not either. “It would seem I have my work cut out in making you the best.” She purred into your ear and watched as you gulped at her closeness.

Her hand gently rested on your shoulder that the beautiful blue, highgarden style sat with. It showed off your smooth skin that the Queen was now stroking. “I am sure you will not disappoint me.” Cersei hummed as her hand moved over your shoulder now and down the valley of your breasts.

A shiver ran down your spine as your eyes widened at her touch. Goosebumps quickly rushed over your soft skin. “Hmm, will you?” She whispered; her soft lips brushing against your ear as she cupped one of your ample breasts. “Cersei…” You whimpered out in shock; your lips parting. 

Her fingers brushed against your easily pebbling nipple as you began to move in your seat, trying to hide from her. “Shh, pretty one.” Cersei hummed, slowly moving around the table. “Let us make you presentable.” She purred and watched in delight as a blush made its way over your cheeks.

Her hand moved onto your thigh now and you nearly jumped. The act had her chuckling as she leaned closer. “You will be good, will you not?” Cersei whispered as you lost yourself in her eyes for a moment before finding the strength to nod your head. “Yes, promise..” You whispered out; her hand slowly moving higher.

She watched as your pretty little eyes widened in anticipation before she slowly leaned in. Her soft lips brushing against yours. You were shocked and whined as her tongue moved in. You clumsily tried to pull away but her free hand moved to the back of your neck and pulled you closer.

“It seems I will have to teach you to kiss.” The queen hummed as she leaned away. Your eyes glazed over as you stared at her in shock. She took that moment to move her hand in between your legs. “Oh, at least you get wet.” She taunted you as your legs clamped together; trapping her.

Her chuckles echoed around the room as her knuckles brushed against your weeping, bare folds. “If I didn't know better, I would say you wanted this.” Cersei purred, pushing her knuckle against your clit that had you jolting from the chair. Your eyes still wide as you not so gracefully moved to stand. 

All Cerise did was smirk at you; her soaked fingers moving to her mouth and her tongue moved over them.

~

“I do apologise, my Lord, I’m sure the little rose will remember your name next time.” Cersei purred to the man in front of her. Gods, you had not even noticed his presence. How could you when the Queen’s fingers were stuffed inside your weeping pussy and had been since the feast had started. 

“Say sorry.” She whispered into your ear; her fingers pushing deeper as she leaned close. “..Apologies..I..I hope you enjoy your evening.” You babbled out. Your cheeks flushed as you stuttered but it seemed to be enough for the man who only bowed his head before turning around.

“It seems I have my work cut out for me.” Cersei whispered into your ear and watched in delight at your humiliation. Gods, you were so fun to play with. She had chosen well. “I believe we might need some lessons.” She continued to whisper; her fingers began to move now whilst her thumb brushed over your clit.

“I wonder..will you need lessons in the bedroom too.” She purred and pinched your clit without warning. A sharp cry escaped you as you reached to cling to the table in front of you. Thankfully, the music of the feast was loud and attentions were elsewhere whilst unfortunately for you, the Queen’s attention was for you only.

“Please…please stop..” You whispered to her. Soft whimpers escaped you when her fingers curled. A spot she touched had you gasping for air as she fiercely pushed against it again and again. “Oh, there it is.” Cersei hummed, leaning in as if to whisper into your ear as she cheekily added a third finger.

You stretched so prettily as your hand reached for her own. If you were stronger, you would have tried to push her away. But all you could do was whimper and take what she gave you. “Good girl…you are going to cum in front of all these people, my pretty little whore.” Cersei hummed.

You hated how it was her words that pushed you over the edge. Her fingers continued to fuck you as you squirted around them. Her palm hit your clit with each move that had you rocking against her. Your legs were shaking now whilst her knuckles moved to pinch your clit again and again.

“Lady Tyrell, may I have this dance…” Your eyes widened at the sound of your husband to be. “Of course she would, darling.” Cersei hummed and not so gently removed her soaked fingers. “Go on then..” She whispered, leaning back into her seat as if nothing had happened. 

She watched in delight as you struggled to stand up. “It seems she’s had some wine.” Cersei giggled whilst Tommen took with a gentle smile and brought you to him. Your inner thighs are completely soaked with your wetness as you rested your head on his shoulder. Your eyes caught sight of Cersei sucking on her fingers.

[cass1opi4]

Hi! I've never seen a reader with Tourette's, do you think you could write a spiderman|peter Parker x m! Reader where they're on a mission and the reader's tics give away their location? That would be awesome <3

double trouble | peter parker

a peter parker x reader

he/him pronouns

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like a real person. his whole life, he’d been spoken to with pity - or bullied and provoked. no middle ground. either people would purposely trigger his tics, finding humour in the condition that had come upon him at seven, or tiptoed around him, walked on eggshells after knowing about his tourettes.

the boy sat beside him had never, not once, dared to do either. partially because he somehow had yet to clock onto the repetitive behaviours, yet also partially because it was not who he was as a person to judge someone because of such a thing.

he talked to y/n like he was normal. because he was in fact almost completely normal, bar the ability to literally move things with his mind. “we can talk about anything, right?” he spoke, unsure about whether or not he should bring up his thoughts.

“of course.” peter nodded, turning his head away from the sunset and toward his friend. “whats going on in the head of yours?”

“i..” he sighed “i feel like my entire life - everybody else has been in on some massive inside joke that only i’m not apart of.” it didn’t make sense, yet at the same time it made perfect sense. “it feels as if they all know something i don’t, and because of that everybody finds a way to point out my cluelessness.”

peter took the words in for a second, before agreeing “i feel that, i feel crazy sometimes.” y/n ushered him to continue “somehow people always find something in me they don’t like, which is messed up because i try my best to do everything right - but it feels so easy to fail.”

“thats why your dad left!” the boy instantly regretted the statement, following it up with a rushed apology, being interrupted by his friend.

“thats why yo momma love me more.” he shrugged simply, smug smile on his face, a gasp left y/n’s mouth.

“my momma dead.” he frowned, peters face dropped, fear filling his face “she isnt! i saw her this morning!”

“thank fuck.” he sighed “do you remember when i first found out about your tics? that was funny.”

y/n laughed “i do.. you were so freaked out.”

the two were hidden behind a wall, listening in on a conversation - well. one of them was. whilst peter was hyper-focused on the talking going on right next to them, y/n was in his own head about everything, focusing so hard on not blurting out anything that could ruin the mission. though, his tics were like coughs - the more you focused on not coughing, the more likely you were to grow your need to do so.

his heart was beating so hard he could hear it in his head, and unfortunately, this distracted his thoughts. “penis parker!” he belted out, eyes widening after he did so. “fuck.” he sighed, being shot at. he floated a desk, throwing it at the group of bad guys before gripping onto peter as the boy webbed out of there.

“what the fuck?!” he yelled once they got to safety, dragging his hands across his face as he ripped of his mask “how did you even find that out? how-“

“you’re peter?!” y/n gasped, mouth agape. now peter was even more lost. if he’d just outed himself for no reason, why did the other boy shout out such a condescending statement? “i- er..”

“why would you do that?” peter looked hurt, watching y/n pull off his gas-mask and frown. “y/n? what?!”

“i have tourettes.. i- i like, say things that are out of control. sometimes my brain and my body don’t communicate that great, i dont want to do or say these things, but i just do? i’m really sorry.”

“why are you sorry about that? if you can’t control it you shouldn’t have to apologise about it.” peter spoke “im sorry for freaking out, i honestly had no idea - kinda thought you were just being mean..”

“a lot of people assume so.”

the sky was now dark, void of stars thanks to the light pollution in new york, but the scene was still strangely beautiful. the new found silence between the two was nice, not an uncomfortable one, just two friends reminiscing on one of their first missions together.

peter hesitated to break the silence, not sure if his next statement would mean enough to ruin such a nice moment between them.

“can i say something weird?” he asked, watching his best friend nod, yet let out a rather contradicting ‘nuh-uh.’ “i.. getting to know you this past year or so has been what i’d consider the best part of my life. you’re so good.. in everything you do, you’re so good. i don’t think ive ever met a person who balances kind, handsome and funny as well as you do. i just.. i dont know. i-“

“are you confessing to me right now, parker?” y/n grinned, praying his assumption was correct, if he was wrong he’d deem it the most embarrassing interaction known to man.

peter bit his lip, nodding. “yeah, i am. i’m sorry.” his eyes shifted from the sky, locking eyes with, what he considered to be, an even more breath-taking sight. “you’re just so.. you. and i like that. in a world of people all trying to be the same you get to be you.”

“i’m so glad i have you in my life.” y/n thought aloud, moving his hand slightly to touch with peter’s “penis parker! you treat me like a person. and you’re so fucking unreal, you look hot doing everything- which is weird, because most people have at least one thing they look disgusting doing. but, god, even the way you eat pizza knocks me the fuck out.”

peter just smiled to himself, leaning his head on y/n’s shoulder, earning an arm wrapped around his shoulder, and a small kiss on the head.

for the first time in what felt like his whole life, y/n had finally felt like more than a person. he felt loved.

˚₊‧꒰ა . ——— ˗ˏˋ ✮ ˎˊ˗ ——— ˖ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

HI SKIBIDISSSS, im so sorry this is rushed i really want to go play royale high bc im brainrotted beyond belief unfortunately. im also just so out of writing motivation that writing feels like a choreeee. im ALSO sorry if this has inaccuracies! i have a friend with tourettes and got their help with a few traits in this. though, in my friends words their tourettes “isnt severe and mainly vocal.” so base it on that. thankyou for reading!!! sorry its short.

[a-lesbianshadowinthenight]

there’s something about how jess and lupe gravitate towards each other immediately and understand each other with so little words exchanged. something about how they balance each other out. how they use their different worldview’s and perspective to strengthen their relationship rather than drive them apart that’s so so dear to me

jess immediately clocking lupe and not getting offended when lupe thinks it’s a dumb question

lupe not knowing where moosejaw is and jess begrudgingly amending it to canada

that could have easily become a situation where two people would have written off the other person

but they saw something in the other that they recognise in themselves that made them decide that they wanted to stick together

the way jess goes straight to lupe when beverley is explaining the house rules and lupe immediately complains to jess about the no pants rule

the way lupe’s voice goes from angry to soft in the locker room when she notices jess is upset about having to wear a dress, lupe comforting them because she knows

lupe not finding jess’ ‘sinking boat’ analogy weird and instead asking her to give specific details, the way you can tell she finds jess interesting

jess being the only one to second lupe when the rest of the team wrote her off as a bad fit to be coach

jess being happy to see lupe having confidence again (let’s not forget them biting their lip about it too, um okay loverboy)

jess taking the piss out of lupe to try and break her out of her bad mood (‘did that help?’ ‘…..yeah’) (ps also made lupe wanna kiss her. this is canon idc)

the fact that you can see they still seem to be seen near each other even after the fight incident, jess is behind lupe when carson is trying to be a stricter coach, when they’re still mad at lupe

the way they can disagree, get angry over things they don’t understand, and they hear each other out. jess starts out ripping into lupe about fighting amongst the team, only to realise they hadn’t seen it from lupe’s perspective

jess not needing an apology from lupe about the black eye (idk if lupe caused it directly or indirectly, but jess arguably blames her for it at first) because she now sees it from lupe’s side

jess understanding and then apologising in their own way, getting the whole team toasting lupe when they know she’d felt excluded in the past, showing lupe that they have her back in doing so

lupe knowing jess is sorry without them having to say it, understanding the implied meaning of jess’ toast. you can see by her reaction that she appreciates it (also loverboy over here blushing about it, i see you lupe)

arguably, the little nod lupe does after she thanks jess for the toast could be interpreted as her telling jess she understands it and they’re cool

the way they move past it and it’s water under the bridge, they’re back to being ‘brothers’

jess not being afraid to call lupe out on being hard on esti, challenging her when she pretends not to care that esti has run away. jess sees right through lupe’s facade, and witnessing that plus esti’s conversation with lupe in the car (even though she doesn’t know what esti is saying) knows that lupe needs to sort her shit out with esti, and orchestrates a situation where they can do it, without forcing lupe

lupe knowing exactly what jess did and instead of being angry is actually lowkey impressed (and a little turned on let’s not lie)

the fact that they both automatically run towards each other on the pitch when they get a home run or win and run into each others’ arms (lupe’s dorky grin is so adorable and sorry not platonic at all, that’s a smile you give someone when ur in loveeeee)

just the whole bar scene. they’re so in sync with each other, finishing each others’ sentences, teaching carson about gay culture together, the easy camaraderie of the arm wrestling (the kisses on the cheek!!!!!!!! twice!!!!! the second one where they’re both smiling!!!!!!) both of them automatically leaning towards saying no to carson when she asks if they’ve been with women here

i also think they very openly talk about their hookups together based off lupe showing jess her hickeys, and lupe telling jess veronica is a biter. i also think they would be each others wingmen (also think if/when they fuck each other they would have threesomes lmao)

(i also think they would tease each other for their very poor flirting skills)

them talking about sticking together on the off season and going to new york together (although i still can’t decide how their conversation indicates that, or the scene i’m thinking of isn’t the right one idk)

anyways tldr: they became unlikely but also inevitably each others person and challenge each other to be better, they’re a good team, they have great chemistry that draws them together. they are soulmates

[finniestoncrane]

rogues giving aftercare after going too hard on their partner sldhfkakhshsiwNcbaheiiwgxak

Aftercare

Rogues Headcanons yeah yeah yeah ok i'm going to make even the nastier babies sweet and soft for this one, as a treat for myself lmao 💜 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: suggestive stuff, sweetness, mentions of rough sex

scarecrow

his aftercare extends to him staying around and not disappearing

he's a busy boy, he has people to terrorise and revenge to achieve

but if you need him to, he'll stay for a few minutes and hold you

if you're lucky he might even tell you that you did a good job

special move: tough love. it's good to be afraid sometimes

mad hatter

difficult one, because jervis falls asleep almost immediately

but it's because he puts so much effort in!

and you know he would never do anything to hurt you

so it's easy enough to forgive him and take comfort in holding him

special move: being painfully cute

zsasz

good form and good practice in everything he does

meticulous and methodical to the point of unfeeling, almost

his aftercare is as thorough as everything else he does

and it's guaranteed to satisfy your need for comfort

special move: intense eye contact while he reassures you

poison ivy

she'll quietly reassure you, firm, but honest and caring

she's instantly trustworthy and believable, she cares from the heart

and you won't have to worry about it happening twice

she's keen to nourish a relationship, emotionally and physically

special move: using vines like a weighted blanket to calm you

riddler

eddie would definitely find it hard to admit that he was too hard

or that he did anything wrong in the first place

and forget about an apology, he's never said sorry for anything

but he'll make an effort to let you bask in his glory through hugs

special move: detailed feedback, essay format, with grades

mr freeze

guilt, so much guilt

he would feel absolutely terrible

so you're getting praised and soothed to the extreme

he can't cause any more pain to a loved one

special move: placing his hands on sore spots and cooling them

bane

so... he never means to be rough, but it's hard to guage it

his size makes it difficult for him to realise what's 'hard'

but he's got a soft, soft heart for you so aftercare is a definite

he'll say sweet things to you in spanish while he holds you tight

special move: the bear hug to end all bear hugs

harley quinn

get ready to be loved and squeazed until it hurts

she's a bit frenetic, a bit feral, kinda rough and tumble

so she can definitely get carried away

luckily her aftercare is just as passionate and thorough

special move: smooshing your face in her hands and praising you

two face

ok so really it's more that harvey is having to apologise for two face

because while harvey likes it a bit rough, he's restrained

and he never means to hurt you, unlike his partner in crime

who is a hedonistic sadist in bed sometimes

special move: letting you fiddle with his coin while he praises you

penguin

ozzie can get carried away admittedly

but he's always ready with sweet words and praise for afterwards

plenty of hugs and kisses and reminders that you're great

plus, it's almost bribe levels of spoiling with gifts too

special move: sugar daddy shopping spree as an apology

[chaerssss]

Ꭼᥒᥴhᥲᥒtꫀd ੈ✩‧₊˚

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:- ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴀᴠᴇʟ, ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀꜱ ᴛᴏ ʟᴏᴠᴇʀꜱ,ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ꜱᴇᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ, ᴀ ᴛᴇᴇɴꜱʏ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ɢʟᴏᴏᴍ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ:- ɪᴅᴏʟ!ꜱᴀɴ x ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ!ʏ/ɴ

ꜱᴏɴɢ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ:- ᴇɴᴄʜᴀɴᴛᴇᴅ (ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ), ᴏɴʟʏ (ʟᴇᴇ ʜɪ), ᴀɴɢᴇʟ (ᴛʀᴏʏ ꜱɪᴠᴀɴ), ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ (ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ)

ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ:- 15ᴋ

┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓🌸┏━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┓

All the streets had now started to look alike. With a map in your hand, you tried to read it but ended up regretting not paying attention in geography. Now, it would be easy if only you knew a few people or the language. However, nothing is helping today. Not the weather, not the maps or the Google translator. You took a deep sigh as you ran a hand down your face due to the frustration. It's Brussels, How is it that all the people you find our either tourists or non-English speakers. "I should prepare for the sarcastic comments dad's going to throw on me.." you mumbled, predicting your future because your father had recommended you to take language lessons. But, you were too stubborn and look where it got you. Its better to buckle up to hear the 'Told you so's'.

Not giving up, you walked away from the protection of the awning of an aesthetically pleasing shop. It was still drizzling but it was better than the previous downpour. Your head moved around in every direction and so did your eyes, trying to find someone, anyone! You were so invested in the search you didn't realise you were walking into someone from behind. But, you did realise....after you had bumped.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I wasn't looking.." you turned to apologise, you kept bowing and uttering words of apologies in both french and English. You didn't halt until the feeling of the raindrops hitting your skin stopped. And you looked up to find a black umbrella over your head. It was held by a man...An insanely gorgeous man.

Your eyes fell upon him. A person...no no no, A god if you had to describe him more specifically. Or someone who was sculpted by the gods themselves. The sharp jawline, high cheekbones, chiseled face. Every feature giving balance to his face. His eyes were adorned by spectacles, you weren't sure if they were real or not but his eyes. Sharp eyes, and yet soft eyes started at you and it felt like you were losing your breath just standing there.

"You look like you're lost..." His lips uttered. But you were so lost in his eyes that you hadn't noticed him speaking. It was all in slow motion, and your jaw was open the whole time. Gosh, could you be more of an embarrassment, you thought. "Hey..." The strange man spoke again. "Yes! I'm sorry, I'm just..yeah I'm lost and...you speak English so thank heavens!" The man chuckled a bit at your explaination. "So, how can I help you?" He questioned. "Um...could you help me find the palace? I'm just so confused there're so many street names here and I'm...yeah. I'm muddled."

"Well, that's a coincidence because I'm walking to the Royal palace as well. And, i do know the location...the only thing I didn't have was a companion." The corner of his lips turned up as he said those words. Really smooth huh? You couldn't help but mirror his reaction. "I'd be happy to volunteer." You extended your hand, "I'm Y/n." and he held your hand, "I'm San." You both stood there for a while, holding hands, smiling, a little to out of your minds, staring at each other.

"Ahem." San cleared his throat, "So..shall we?"

The next thing you know is you're exploring the streets that seemed bewildering a few seconds ago. San, seemed to know a lot of things and places. You were curious if maybe he lived here but it turned out he was just another tourist, trying to make memories. But alone. Just like you.

Having a single umbrella was quite the inconvenience. First, the proximity, oh lord. Second, heartbeat. Yes. This has never happened before. Your heart would never behave like this on any occasion let alone meeting a guy. What was different today?...Maybe him? His cologne?...It gave of an earthly fragrance, like when it rains. Or was it the weather? Maybe, it was the weather. Despite excusing your feelings, you were still staring at him. He's even stunning from the side! Your eyes then went down his neck...then to his arms...no, his biceps. Although, the coat he was wearing was thick, it couldn't hide his build.

"Should we stop for an ice-cream?" His honey-like voice pulled you out of your thoughts. "Sure, but I'm paying."

"Of course, you have to pay." San joked as he took out his credit card...a black card?!?! Holy munchkins, he's rich? You wondered. "No no no no. I said I'll pay. You already helped me before. So let me do something for you." You tried to stop him. "Alright..get me a mint chocolate." You cracked ur neck when you turned your head towards him because "mint-chocolate??" You said aloud, unintentionally because sometimes your tongue and brain do not synchronise. "Yes, why?" He questioned with those innocent eyes staring right at ya! "No, I mean...haha. i meant, mint chocolate? I was confirming." You tried to shrug it off with an awkward laugh.

"Oh you're terrible at lying." San burst into fits of laughter as he saw your acting skills. "Were you teasing me?" You pouted. "No, i wasn't joking. I actually like mint-chocolate and trust me, you're not the first person to judge me on this. I have been judged by...a married couple." San replied

You exhaled because of San's chill demeanour. That's how you spent the rest of the evening. Going to museums, street stalls, the palace, random fountains. You were starting to enjoy his presence. Initially, you wanted to travel the world alone. Because you believed, having someone with you would only awaken your mother instincts and you'd want to take care of them instead of enjoying the vacation. Honestly, it was lonely. Until you met this man.

"I am on a vacation as well. So what's the career you're pursuing?" San questioned while sipping on his coffee. "Oh, I'm a doctor." San choked on his coffee. You were greeted with his wide eyes. "What is so surprising about that?" You smiled. "I don't know either. But, it must be tiring right?" He said. You leaned your hands back on ridge of the roof of an abandoned house, "Yeah...it is. You meet with so many people. To some, you deliver good news...and to others, the bitter truth." You replied as you stared in the sky filled with clouds, moon and stars barely visible. The cold wind splashed over your face but you enjoyed it. You found comfort in it.

San on the other hand, couldn't resist gazing at you. Your eyes, especially. How they expressed the emotions you held in you heart. Then, your smile. It did something to him. He couldn't quite point out what this feeling was but whenever you smiled, it was as if flowers bloomed and you shined among them. "So how come you're alone?"

"...i don't know actually. Maybe it's because I want to be alone for once in a while. But..it turned out to be quite lonesome. Honestly, it has always been like this. I want to find something...just for me. I want to cherish that alone time so much and I do...I do very much but in the head i crave for some affection. Doesn't matter what but... affection. You know, it had been such a long-"

You are interuppted by San's arms around you. His hands pat your head. And you realised he was trying to comfort you. You were startled, but it was so warm. His embrace felt like your blankets at home. Fuzzy and warm. However, there was something more to it. His left hand then slid to your back and provided the most gentle rubs. So, you closed your eyes as you nuzzled into his chest. So... comfortable...

You have no idea what happened after that but the next day you found yourself on a completely strange bed and a foreign setting. It was all confusing until San came out of the bathroom. "I almost thought I got kidnapped.."

"Thank you for thinking so highly of me but you passed out." San taunted. "Passed out? Oh please, i had the best sleep in years.." you wondered aloud once again, catching San off-gaurd. "Oh..." And you noticed he had a tank top on..."oh." You were sure he had a nice body but holy banoly this was beyond your imagination. And his messy bed hair were a cherry on top. "So...you wouldn't mind if we hugged again, right?"

There it was again, that feeling of your heart racing like a horse. The surroundings suddenly felt so quite, the only thing you were worried about was if he heard the beating of your heart. "um..." And now you were tongue tied. Great.

"I'll take that as a yes. Well nevermind about that, i have plans for today, so let's get ready. Quick!"

Being with a person was actually much better than you had thought. Or maybe it was just because it was San. Days went by and you guys didn't waste any of them. You could say this was the most you had been outside your house. And about your relationship with San...it was blossoming. From bumping into each other to walking down the streets of Brussels while holding hands to barging into each other's hotels. If you told your parents about it, they'd probably advice to maintain distance from a 'strange guy'. However, that was thing about him. It was the fact that with him you enjoyed things 100 times more and how he was so kind and caring. He didn't feel strange at all. If there was something that you found weird was sometimes people would take pictures of him from afar or ask to take selfies with him. Maybe it was because of how beautiful of a man he is. But...could it be that he is famous?

"No...I'm just a normal guy. Escaping the worries of my world as much as I love and adore it."

So, in a matter of weeks you had made a connection with a strange guy. Where you didn't shy away from holding his hand, or telling him your embarassing stories, eating with him till you were completely stuffed, clicking pictures with the weirdest poses or listening to music by sharing earphones while sitting on a bench in a foreign country.

Should I be worried of this connection?

The next day was rather quiet. Because you hadn't had a single call from San. But you were seriously concerned why you were waiting for him to call you. So you decided to ring up the only person you would trust with this. Your best friend.

"Oh my God you're in love!! Send his picture alright?" She squeled. "oh c'mon this can't be love....maybe a fling?"

"No! It is definitely not a fling. Let me prove it to you." She said confidently.

"Does he make you feel threatened?" She questioned, "what absolutely not!" Your best friend continued, "so how does he make you feel then?"

"...He makes me feel comfortable and...wanted. He always looks at me with those eyes of his, so sharp and yet so soft. He cares for me so much. He makes sure I've eaten, a sometimes he wipes my face when I eat, he values my choices but what truly incites me is when he holds my hand, he tells me how it fits perfectly in his. Or how he thinks I should be casted in movies when I completely disagree....and, he hasn't called me today. In dreading to hear his voice. You don't think he's gone do you?"

"...do you still think it's a fling?"

As soon as your call with your bestfriend finished, San's name shined bright on your phone screen. If this was happiness you were feeling right now, then you were sure you could explode. You obliged to what he had said over the call, to meet him at the same location you met for the first time. And just as you were about to leave, you got back in once again, just to look in the mirror and fix yourself just for the last time. With a deep breath you left.

It was sunny out. No clouds, or wind. A clear sky. Just like your first time around here your head went in all directions, trying to find one particular person this time.

Ah, there he is.

Your eyes fall at the man who was just another tourist a few days ago and now he seems like someone you're not ready to leave. There he stood in a white and black cardigan, a little big for his body which covered his bulk. However, his collarbones were left exposed. His hair were down, and he looked mesmerizing so effortlessly. The sun did him a favour you thought. "Y/n!" He caught you attention as he jogged towards you.

"Hey..." You greeted him with a smile. But something was off today. The atmosphere was somehow more heavy than the usual meet-ups. "Um..i knew this day would come but...this is a little earlier than expected." He chuckled while refusing to make eye contact. You tucked a hair strand behind your ear, "I'm...ready for whatever it is." You tried disguising your fragile hope into strength.

"I have to leave today. My work schedule changed." There they were, the words you knew were coming but begged for the universe to let it be anything else but San leaving you. "So, you're leaving?" You choked out.

"Hey... let's meet again. Here. Let's meet again like strangers who were lost." San said staring deep into your eyes and you know they're being filled with tears because so are yours and no matter how much you try to resist them, they will fall. San's hands came to cup your cheeks, "You know, i truly came here for an escape. I tried to run away from all the things that were bothering me. I thought it'd be okay to leave for once, to enjoy being alone and my company." He paused to take in a deep breath.

"But...you were right, it does get lonely. Even though I'm trying to find the purpose of my life and following what I truly wanted it does get lonely. Even though, i have an amazing family and friends. But you know what that where you come in. You complete the part of 'being lonely'. You fill in that empty space of mine...called heart." He wiped the tears that were now running down your cheeks.

"So wait for me...wait for me Y/n. I'll come back i promise." He extended his little finger and you entangled yours with his and your thumbs touched, "I promise! With a stamp on it." Your voice barely clear, "San, i was enchanted to meet you." You wiped down his tears and kissed him. You were on your tiptoes and his lips were on yours, his hands cupping your cheeks so gently, as though you'd break. The kiss felt like an orchestral climax of a complicated music piece. You were sure you heard the violins and the piano.

I don't want to leave. Please don't leave.

"Stay." Your tongue betrayed you yet again. "I love you."

San touched his forehead with your yours, "I love you too."

You were at the airport, with your luggages ready to leave. A few changes were made in the trip, your wallpaper wasn't a picture of you anymore, it was San. Your wrist wasn't empty anymore, instead, it was adorned with a bracelet, gifted to you by San and your heart wasn't a lonely place anymore because it was invaded by...San.

The other thing that's weird is your best friend calling you for like the 15th time this morning, you couldn't pick up the rest because you were getting ready. So now you had to. "Hello?"

"Why won't you pick the phone up?"

"Sorry, i was getting ready to leave for the airport."

"Are you sure you sent me the correct picture? I mean is he the guy you met in Brussels?"

"Yes...why?"

"What was his name?"

"San."

"....do you know his last name?"

"No...in fact i didn't even get his number."

"...Y/n. The person you met was Choi San. He is a celebrity. A k-pop idol in South Korea. From the boy group Ateez."

"...what?"

┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛🌸┗━•❃°•°❀°•°❃•━┛

[onetimetwotimesthreetimess]

this not the weirdest thing i ever send ask to you but what if shrek forever after malec au they got into a really big fight and magnus said something along the line of "wish I never marry/met you" and bam his magic lash out and turn it into reality

“Why does everything have to turn into an argument with you?”

“I’m sorry being with me is so difficult for you, Alexander.”

Alec groans loudly, “That’s not what I meant and you know that. Stop twisting my words.”

“I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Magnus—“

“I am miserable here,” Magnus yells. “I am so fucking miserable here and you know that.”

Alec sighs as he moves closer to his husband. He takes Magnus’s hand in his and rubs over his knuckles.

“Baby, I know. But it’s getting better. Things are changing.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

Alec runs his hand over his face in frustration. “I know today was a shitty day but you’re blowing things out of proportion. I—“

Magnus steps back, anger written all over his place. “How dare you say that after how your council behaved with me?”

“Have you forgotten that I did take your stand or what? I fought with them, Magnus. I told them that that language would not be tolerated against my husband,” Alec yells back, never one to back down.

“I deserve respect as a person, Alexander. Not just your husband,” Magnus says tiredly. “Your council stepped down because I’m the inquisitor’s husband. But what about the other warlocks? What about Magnus Bane? They will never respect me as a warlock, Alec.”

He knows Alec fought back but it’s not enough. It’s not enough after the words that were thrown at him. Not after the disdain on everyone’s faces.

Magnus isn’t new to the discrimination and the disdain and hatred. But just because it’s familiar, doesn’t mean it’s easy.

“These are old, stuck up assholes, Magnus. These are hundred year old traditions and it’ll take time to change them, I—“

Magnus’s voice is thunderous as he replies, “I am four hundred years old, Alec. So, you do not need to tell me how difficult it is for traditions to change. How long it takes for someone to let go of their hate. Or pain. It took a lot out of me to move to fucking Idris with you but I did. For you.”

“I didn’t ask you to do that. I didn’t ask you to leave Brooklyn for me. I didn’t ask you to change your life and I’m sick and tired of you holding against me,” Everything stuns the second the words are out of Alec’s mouth. He sees Alec’s face turn into horror as the reality of the words hit him.

“I came for you,” Magnus whispers but his voice is loud enough in the silence of the room. “Because I love you. And I thought we deserved to be together after all that we went through.”

“Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“

Magnus raises a hand to stop Alec from apologising.

He doesn’t care for apologies right now.

He wants Alec to hurt.

“And maybe things are changing and the world would look a lot different if I’d just wait but what if I don’t fucking want to, Alec?” He breathes. “What if I don’t want to or shouldn’t have to suffer. I have had enough.”

“Magnus—“

“You don’t get to stand here infront of me and tell me that I’m blowing things out of proportion when since the second I’ve stepped in this city, all I’ve received is hate and snide remarks. I have heard everything and more than you will ever know. About how I’ve corrupted you. Or cursed you. And ruined you and I have listened to every single one of them so that we get to fight for a better world but I am done,” Magnus roars and steps back.

“I was wrong to believe that love is stronger than anything else,” Magnus exhales before he takes the final blow. Before he says the things he knows will hurt Alec the most. “I wish I had never married you then I wouldn’t be in all this pain.”

_______________________________________________

He stretches his body as the sun shines through the curtains and disrupts his sleep.

Magnus groans as he hides his face in the pillow beneath him. He lets out his hand on the other side of the bed but it comes up empty. Magnus opens his eyes and frowns to find nobody on the other side.

Confusion flood him as Magnus doesn’t remember anyone being there the previous night either so he’s not sure why he expected someone to be there.

He just did.

Weird.

He can’t go back to sleep after that so he decides to start his day a bit early.

Magnus pours coffee for him and it tastes not that great. Then he magics coffee from his favorite cafe in Berlin and it still tastes weird. It’s not bad—it’s just not that great.

Even the shower doesn’t feel that great. It’s weird when there are two vanities in the washroom but he knows he redecorates his house all the sound so ignores it as well.

A couple hours later, Magnus portals to the institute. He had to rework the wards.

It’s always nice to meet Isabelle too. Jace though, the Jury is out on that one.

There’s another Lightwood sibling but Magnus has never met him. He’s just transferred from Idris.

Magnus imagines him being the biggest dick.

“Magnus!!”

He turns to find Isabelle Lightwood, with a beaming smile on his face.

“Isabelle, hi darling.”

“I want you to meet someone,” Isabelle says before she turns.

Magnus’s mouth open as his eyes land on the beautiful man right next to Isabelle. He’s a walking dream and everything Magnus likes in a man. Tall, dark and handsome.

“Hey,” the man says hesitantly. “I’m Alec Lightwood.”

“The new head?” Magnus asks as he offers his hand. “I’m Magnus Bane.”

“Co-head.”

“Hmmm. And is Alec short for something?”

The man blushes and something flips inside his chest. He’s not sure what. But there’s been a void inside of him since he woke up today. Like right was left and left was right. Like how it would feel if everything tilted to a 17 degree angle. Right now, the world feels back on its axis but that void remains.

“Alexander. But no one calls ne that,” Alec replies.

Magnus smiles back. “And who is this Co-head?”

All blush and smile leaves Alec’s face and there’s emptiness on it as he replies. “My wife. Lydia.”

And Magnus feels that for some inexplicable reason, the world will never feel right again.

Part II

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hi. I'm back for your integration). This time to an episode from the first season when Tim visits Isabel on Valentine's Day.

Why do you think Tim was the first to talk about divorce?

I remember when I first viewed it, it surprised me. He waited for her, fought for her, endured this nightmare and it seems he still loved her. Isabelle apologized, talked about the past. She tried to understand herself and explain to him why it happened. I don't think she's thought about the future yet. And then he offers to divorce. Does he no longer see a future together?

I can only explain this by the fact that Tim, having heard how Isabel felt his pressure on her, that she did not meet his expectations, decides to rid her of herself. (I wonder, by the way, if this is objective or just her feelings, interpretation or just excuses)

Sorry for the mistakes and hopefully not too confusing, English is not my native language.

This is a delicate (and complicated) subject so I hope I'm not saying anything wrong or offensive here. And as always, this is only my interpretation.

The way I see it, when Tim went to the rehab facility to see Isabel, he didn't know what to expect, what her state of mind would be. Hence why he admitted almost turning away twice. What he did know was that he wanted his wife back, that he loved her… But as he had learned the hard way, that might not be sufficient. Still, I don't think he was envisaging divorcing her. It's only once she opened up about the pressure she felt when they were married that he considered it.

At first, Isabel was simply trying to make amends, apologise for all the things she did. It's actually part of the 12-steps program, which supports recovery from substance disorders. Step 09 is about making direct amends to the people you've harmed. Now, I don't know if she was at that stage already but her wording was very similar. Here's what she says : "I don't want to talk about it, either, but it's part of my recovery. […] The whole point is to make amends with the people that I've hurt. And I hurt you most of all". She wanted to acknowledge all the hurt she inflicted… But he wasn't really listening. From what we saw, Tim had a major blindspot regarding Isabel's addiction, where he blamed everything on the drugs. That was his coping mechanism. But it skewed his perspective as well, as Lucy tried to tell him, calling him out on this several times. In his mind, Isabel didn't do the lying, the cheating… It was the drugs. He was compartmentalising. And now that she was in recovery, he thought everything would go back to normal.

Unfortunately, this isn't as black and white. She was under the influence, but she also did those things. And most importantly : she may be in recovery, but addiction can last a lifetime. This is a disease, it doesn't go away just like that. So while she might no longer be using drugs, she was still an addict. He needed to accept that if he wanted them to move forward. But instead, he was unintentionally dismissing what she was saying - something he tends to do when he gets uncomfortable. He wasn't ready to address any of that and she got frustrated, unloading on him, telling him how she used to feel this pressure to live up to his standards. So once he understood there were deeper issues in their marriage that might have contributed to her addiction, his blinders came off. He felt he was at least partially responsible for her addiction.

Now, I don't really think she was trying to blame him at first. She genuinely wanted to apologise and was not skirting responsibility, even when Tim was offering her an easy way out. This tells me that she was sincere in her approach. I also doubt she wanted to divorce him. Addicts are usually asked to refrain from making life-altering decisions like this in their first year, to avoid any major change that could trigger a relapse (and I'm glad the show didn't go there by the way). The problem was that Tim got caught off-guard. He had no idea what he was walking into and as a result, didn't have time to prepare himself. You can't force someone to talk about something so sensitive or accept your apologies. The other person has a right to know first and to choose whether they are ready to discuss this.

Like I said earlier, Isabel got frustrated when he was deflecting and she vented out. And whether that was her intent or not, she did place some of the blame for her addiction on Tim. Deserved or not. In 5.20, she implied there were things from her past she was running away from, developing unhealthy coping mechanisms in the process... So there were clearly other factors at the very least. But regardless, this whole conversation really highlighted the dissonance and the breakdown of communication in their marriage. Because he was never aware of how she felt while they were together. She never told him how she was always afraid of disappointing him. Anyhow, Tim internalised what she said and took on the blame placed on him. Hence why he decided to divorce her. If he could be a potential trigger for her, then staying married would do her more harm than good. He would always be a reminder to that low point. So he did what he thought was best for Isabel's well-being. It wasn't for him. It was for her.

(Don't you worry or apologise about your English - I'm not a native speaker either!)