#everyone who was ever a pope is going to hell

[dorbu]

losing my shit of this "is the pope a dictator" shit. like. YES. OF COURSE HE IS. THAT'S WHY THE OFFICE FUCKING EXISTS

[pedge-page]

Insatiable

Part 3/Finale to Cravings and Crash

Frankie Morales x F!Reader

Summary: Frankie and reader spend some time apart before realizing that’s actually really stupid—and solid communication happens for once :) 

Notes: it’s finally HERE! Thank you all so much again for your words of praise and keeping with these two absolute idiots in love. Honestly intended the first one to just be a one-off drabble throw away thought, but I’m glad everyone enjoyed it so much to ask for more! I’m spitting this out earlier than expected. Don’t know if I’ve done them reasonable justice but this is what I’ve got—hope you like it!

Warnings: unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, creampies, mentions of m oral, pussy eating king returns, cum eating, missionary, doggy, cowgirl, overstimulation, fingering, squirting, bit of possessive and jealous Frankie, mentions of drug use, drugs present, language

18+ ONLY

- - - - 

You had cried when you got in your car. And again when you went to your cousin’s house to crash until you signed your new lease. And then again every night for a week straight.

You had NEVER cried this hard over a boy before.

Except this wasn't some boy—this was Frankie. The guy who comforted you through all your dates that stood you up, and shitty boyfriends, albeit few, that left you feeling less than worthwhile. The same Frankie who stood around you like a guard dog when you went drinking together so no one would even think to slip something in your cup, but who YOU have to comfort during horror movies because he's a big scared kitten. Who lets you sleep on his shoulder for five hours in the car no matter how uncomfortable it was for him, never once moving, but still ate the food you didn't like off your plate "because he's a garbage dump who'd eat anything, even mold." 

The first guy to tell you that you were beautiful when you weren't even trying to impress him. Who brings a hair tie with him when you go to eat because you always forget yours and get your hair caught in your fork. Who pushed you to take charge of your life and break up with your loser first love, and it was the hardest and best decision you could have ever made.

And you know what? The ONLY guy who made you cum 9 fucking times the FIRST time he went down on you.

You called Santi that night because you needed to let loose, and the only other person you trusted to hold you up outside of Frankie was Pope.

“So how is he?” Santi asked, as you immediately double fisted your first two shots. 

"I don't wanna talk about him tonight."

Santi nods, eyes widening as you don’t even resist the bitter taste going down your throat. He holds his finger up towards the waitress to order 4 more glasses.

You really didn't want to think about Frankie. The more you thought about him, the more confused you felt, and you couldn't afford to be confused about your purpose in his life right now. You knew battling addiction isn’t a linear healing process. That it would get worse before it got better at times. You're his friend. You're helping him. That's it. 

Frankie spent a whole year being physically intimate with you, but never once asked or made a move for anything more emotionally. So why let yourself get carried away even thinking about something more?

To even consider if you wanted more...

You snatch the shot glass out of Santi's hand right before he was about to sip it and catapulted it down your throat, the burning sensation taking your mind out of the gutter.

Fuck Frankie for not keeping his shit together. Fuck him for being hot and cold. Fuck him for using you when that's exactly what you’re here for.

It's much easier to keep it all that way. Easy to encourage him with sex to avoid overthinking his intentions. Easier to constantly verbalize it, knowing he won’t deny it, as a means of reassurance to yourself. 

But absolutely fucking HELL he’s being so difficult lately. The sex—wasn’t just good. It was fucking phenomenal. you could physically see how much better he was just moments afterwards, even if you were blacking out and falling asleep not too long after. He was so hungry for it too, why deny? But he’d been holding back too much now—getting too tense, crashing, then stressed again. You needed to get things back on schedule with him so he’d be happy again.

And gentle, nurturing, innocent, sober you just wasn't doing the trick for him anymore.

You barely hear Santi over the pounding in your head: "When we was the last time you got laid? You need a distraction from your Fix-a-Fish hobby."

You gulp down the last of the vodka on the table, suppressing a slight burp.

"I'm 'bout to do both tonight."

That was 4 weeks ago. You didn’t achieve either that night.

Fish didn't seem too upset when you left, ultimately making the choice much easier. You looked so fucking stupid walking in there, basically demanding sex from him when he made it clear all year that you were only there for HIM and not the other way around. He didn’t want you like that. 

Good. Makes staying friends that much easier.

Or it did, for a little while. 

You couldn’t get over the way he made you feel when all was well—when he’d serenade you so easily in affection like Querida, Carino, Hermosa, and you could barely contain the butterflies in your stomach each time. You had never once heard him even refer to his dates or ex girlfriends in the same manner. It was both confusing and arousing. He treated you like a best friend some times, but adored you like a lover more. 

Hadn’t the man heard of friendship boundaries? Aside from the fact he made you orgasm every minute of the day, what was Frankie like as a lover? What more could he possibly do to cross that line?

Who the hell treats their friend like that?

That last month, however, felt more realistic. Grounded in the truth of your relation. You didn’t realize how much he had gotten to you with sweet words first that made the change in his attitude so unbearable. 

You wanted to go back to being selfish with his unbridled love.

You hadn’t gotten off in over a week, a new record. But as you lay in bed, conjuring any and all pornos, audio eroticas, pillows, aching fingers, even the dusty vibrator still wrapped in its new plastic, nothing was getting you to that same addictive feeling that Frankie gave you every single day.

You should have called him to return his shirt you had accidentally packed in your bag in a haste to get out of there. But it still smelled like him. You felt perverted getting wet just by holding it in your hands, but it was doing the trick, and finally you could touch yourself without additional lubricant assistance.

All the memories that tumbled from then on only made the ache between your legs worse: The first night, Frankie between your legs, begging you to let go so he could force more orgasms from your shaking body. “Doing s’good for me, cariño. Give me more, fucking starving” ; when he held you in his lap as you grind down on his bulge, his head buried under his shirt that you were wearing as his lapped at your nipples, “Don’t you dare hold back those beautiful moans, wanna hear you singing when I’m devouring you”; when he’d come home from work and didn’t say a word, just grabbed your wrist and lead you to his bedroom, lied on the bed, slapped your ass a few times to get you to straddle him higher, higher, until you were right over his lips. He didn’t even wait for your hesitation, immediately bringing your hips down and crashing his lips on your pussy, shaking his head like a mad scientist at work, hell bent on discovering what makes you cry faster.

You pulled your fingers away from your slick cunt. No amount of memory would compare to the real thing—and it wasn’t all the acts that you needed, but the intimacy, the familiarity that came from Frankie—THAT’S what always sent you over the edge.

It scared you.

Santi was half right. You did need to get laid. Needed someone who wasn’t Frankie to remind you that you don’t rely on him for some shit like getting off (although you had developed a keen preference by now). You needed a new hobby that wasn’t thinking about Frankie all the time. YOU needed a distraction.

He was half wrong, however, because you knew very well that you’d be drowning in lame date after lame lay a million times before you got over the addictive feeling of being around Fish this past year.

It never felt like a chore. Well, obviously, you were getting ate out like a Sunday brunch. But it was everything else that made you want to keep staying around, even after he maybe didn’t need you anymore.

You realized then that leaving was the best for you and him. You had somehow managed to score a  date tonight, the first one in over a year, with a James. Or Jonathan. Or Jimmy. Something J. I think.

I’m excited. I’m going on a date. I’m going to have fun. I’m excited. Im going on a date. Im going to have fun.

You didn’t even have the care to shave tonight before you begrudgingly left for dinner and a movie.

-

He couldn't say it then. Frankie remembered so vividly the image that he wishes he could forget: you standing there, so meek and vulnerable, spilling your tears as you tried to level your emotions with your feelings and confront the fucked up situation he put you in. Maybe if you had screamed, yelled at him and cussed him out for being such a dick, then he could have told you how he truly felt.

He was always better at being shouted at by others from being in the service. The guys would let their tempers soar and just shout, honesty tumbling through like a flood, and then everything would be out on the table, and shit would get DONE.

The apartment is unforgivably quiet and cold.

He's noticing little things you left behind: your nice moisturizer, expensive shampoo, a paper towel holder. He thinks you’re mocking him by leaving bits of you around his place, so he collects them in a bin and waits for you to come retrieve them. But you don't contact him for the first week.

He starts to think maybe you left those things for him. You bought all these things while you were here, forcing him to use them with you:

"Your face is as dry as a desert; you need moisturizer, not body lotion.”

"You can't use a 4 in one hair and body wash!"

"Who the fuck doesn't have a holder for their paper towels?"

It wasn't all just sex when you were here. He remembered coming in to the bathroom when your feet were soaking in the tub, and you explained you were rubbing your calluses off your feet. He joined you, sweats pulled up above his knee as you held him down to get the stone on his crusty feet, the whole time laughing and squirming because it tickled too much. He fell on his ass in the tub desperate to escape your strangely strong grip around his ankle, getting his clothes all wet.

And despite how well he had known you even before your arrangement, he continued to learn new things about you. Like you took night showers, and could only go to bed with your hair in braid. He'd come to see you, agitated in his room all morning, waiting for you to finally wake up so he could distract his craving. He’d walk into the kitchen where you were already cooking him breakfast, slip his arms around your hip, and pull your braids out lovingly to smell scent of your shampoo waft off in waves, closing his eyes and feeling his jitters dissipate, instantly calming him like no other remedy.

Found it funny that you couldn’t use a regular spoon for cereal, always replacing it with a tea spoon because the other ones are “too big” for your mouth to fully close around. A sentiment he suspected to be a load of BS when you had no problem swallowing his cock whole and then gulping down his cum without spilling a drop.

Or when you got red sauce all over the laundry and had to borrow Frankie's shirt to sleep in. He liked that you smelled like him, that it draped over you so pretty, and you'd never wear pants underneath. He'd put you in his lap and make you hold the shirt up with your teeth, showing off your perky tits. His thumb circled your hip bone, large hand clasping your waist to keep you upright while he'd kiss your nipples, and then make you both look down and watch as he rubbed his fingers through your folds, sucking the juices off as he finger fucked you over top him.

He can't help but feel his twitch of his cock stir in his pants at the thought.

Ok. Maybe the sexual parts were a big part—how could they not be? That’s all it was, at first. And he was able to pretend like it was too. But the more time he spent with you. The more time he got to really know you, live with you, breathe you in, unravel you and bind him to you so that you had no sanctuary untouched by him, it was all over before it began. 

He sat down with Pope a week after you left: 

“You look like shit.”

Frankie grumbled, shrugging it off. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten like he used to when you were around. His beard was growing in more patchy and less manicured than before.

“Have you talked to her since?”

“Don’t wanna talk about her tonight.”

Jesus, a broken record with these two, Santi thought. But he knew Fish much better, knew the exact reason why he called him out instead of all the boys together is precisely because he needed to get this off his chest. “She thought you were stressed, needed time. Clearly she was right.”

Frankie’s jaw clenched, teeth grinding so hard that he could form diamonds.

Santi cleared his throat, twirling the ice in his glass casually. “Course, I didn’t tell her you’re head over heels in love with her. Why didn’t you?”

He doesn’t deny it. Doesn’t think he could again. “Imagine how that would have gone? She was crying right there. Right in front of me, BECAUSE of me, after I’d treated her like shit for weeks until her breaking point. Would have given her some fucked up idea that that was my expression of loving her. If I’d said it then, she would never have believed me. Would have ruined everything. Including our friendship.” He pauses, staring down at his rough hands. “She deserves better,” he said weakly, more to convince himself than anyone else.

Santi leans back against the booth. He’d heard the Frankie pity train before, but this was much lower than usual. “And friendship is still good enough for you?”

“I’ll take whatever she’ll give me at this point. I can’t lose her.” 

“You can’t? Or don’t want to?”

Frankie thought about that for a while. He had realized too late he didn’t actually still need you. He hadn’t really “craved” cocaine like before. He no longer needed you tending to his every reaction, overly serving his necessities and desires, always a few steps away to brighten his smile, or warm the house with your laughter, your cooking, your terrible taste in movies, all for the sake of keeping him sane and sober.

But damn it all, he still wanted you.

Frankie goes 4 weeks of the hardest withdrawal of his life. You were right, he was getting better at not thinking about cocaine. But without you here, he's more agitated than before. It's not that he craves it now, but rather craves a substitute to get him through your absence.

He's itching for his phone, for the number of his dealer he should have blocked and deleted so long ago.

He shouldn't. It would devastate you. You'd think it's your fault because you weren't here to distract him, only making the whole lie he’s been telling himself that you could still be just friends more abundantly evident. Pushing that useless tale even further, rooting it in your mind.

 In truth, it is your fault that his entire happiness is now emotionally and physically tied to you, but he can't really blame you for leaving him since he's the big idiot. He had the entire year to make it right, damned be the consequences of your possible rejection.

He’s clenching his fist at his sides, debating whether to text his dealer. He doesn't even want that shit, at least not the way before. He just wants a distraction from the real aches that you've left behind.

And if he did... wouldn't you come back to him to make it right?

You’re so clear in his mind that doesn't even struggle, doesn't hesitate as he pays the money and carries the little pouch in his hands. He gets back to his apartment with vigorous haste, slamming the door behind him, and sits it on the coffee table, staring.

Even if you don't come back to him, getting just a little bit high would help take his mind off it all. He'd be able to stop thinking about you, even for just the night. Just to get some sleep.

Just to stop feeling.

He shakily tries to undo the tightly sealed bag, but few particle traces catch in his finger tips from outside the plastic, and he instantly wafts the infinitesimal scent of it on his finger tips. He stops, feeling something he's never felt before when staring down at the thing thats caused him so much trouble in his life:

Disgust.

-

You considered calling Frankie a million times, but how soon was too soon? Would he think you were just desperate to get ate out again? Would he deny you the second you wanted to see him, thinking it was just a booty call again? You had made some stupid choices, like going on a shitty date with a guy you weren’t even interested in, just to get over Frankie, so that you could avoid thinking about how badly you had shattered your friendship.

And going right back to being his friend, which included sharing one of your reckless decisions you make on your own, was one of them. He’d be interested in hearing about it, right?

You dial him up quickly.

You rock back and forth on your heels, unable to sit still.

The phone rings out to voicemail.

He’s never missed a phone call from you. Not even at 2am on a work night. He's never on his phone, and yet still always managed to answer your calls even if it’s on the last ring.

He's just avoiding you again. It's fine. Santi said he'll get over it eventually. That you’ve done enough worrying for him, and need to take care of yourself for a change.

You glance at the key he gave back to you, and not even a moment later, are soon slipping on shoes and heading out the door with it in hand.

-

You unlock the door and slowly walk in to the familiar layout of Frankie's apartment. It's entirely dark, curtains drawn save for a small crack in the shades. You call out his name tentatively, the eeriness of the place making you anxious. When you see the bathroom light on and door slightly ajar, hearing the rushing sink water running, you sigh relief.

Thank God.

You gently push open the door. "Fish?" You see him, heart skipping a beat at how much thinner, paler he looked now than before, eyes sunk from lack of sleep.

His eyes light up when he sees you, and your heart breaks at how different he looks but STILL has the brightest, softest, loving smile at you.

Your eyes drift down, smile fading, horror quickly overtaking your face at the unopened baggie of white powder sitting at the sink. And his face drops at the realization.

You take one step back, unable to close the gape in your lips, petrified. "Fish—I—holy fuck..."

You had never seen him doing it, never seen him freshly blown high from it. The closest you ever got was what the boys would tell you, or seeing the long aftermath of his crash. They were always first on the scene and quite frankly, ensured you were never the one to find in him these states. You had never been able to mentally prepare to have to handle it now.

"No—no no no! It's not, I didn’t, I didn't! Look—ok it looks like I did but I swear I haven't touched it. It’s still sealed! I’m. I'm dumping it down the toilet."

You don't trust his word, seeing as the bag is here, albeit fully wrapped up, seal unbroken like he said. But here, nonetheless. With him. In front of you with no denial that it was his. 

He gets on his knees and wraps his arms around your waist. “Please don’t leave me. I didn’t want you to leave the first time…”

“And it’s taking you being high right now to admit that?!”

I’m not high, seriously. Check me.” You peer down closer, and aside from his rampant heart beating against your leg and big round eyes, there’s no trace of smell or lingering white powder anywhere on him. But you’re hesitant.

“I bought it but then realized It wasn’t what I really wanted…”

He licks his lips quickly, his brown eyes pleading up to you, biceps flexing against your ribcage.

Your chest is pounding, the encasing feeling of Frankie refusing to let you back away making you feel like a trapped rabbit. 

“Please believe me,” he breathes.

"Your eyes are dilated as fuck Frankie!"

"That's because of you!"

You both hold your breath, a pregnant silence ringing in the air.

“I—I’m. Um. I meant." His eyes trail off sheepishly as a warm blush takes over his face. 

He stands up, rubbing the back of his head. He can tell you’re patiently waiting for him to get over his blubbering awkwardness so he can explain properly. To find the words he’s combing his brain for. And find them he did: 

"I miss you, Querida.”

He breathes slowly, time catching up and suddenly stopping. 

You glance toward the bag, still fearful that he had gotten to this point while you were gone. “Frankie. I’m—I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. For your needs—“

“I don’t need you to fix me. I haven’t craved that shit for a while, still don’t even now. I just wanted you here with me.” He snatches the baggie and chucks it in the toilet, immediately flushing it.

You want to say that might not be great for the plumbing, but Frankie’s hands are on yours, holding them securely to his chest. “I just want you. I should have said it before you walked away.  Should’ve said it a year ago, when I knew I didn’t want to pretend this was just some—some drug replacement.” He goes quieter. “I didn’t want this to be nothing. I thought when we had sex, maybe you’d feel the same, but you didn’t—”

“I was afraid about what would happen to you If our dynamic changed, Fish. I was worried it was just another high. So I tried to make things go back to how they were since it seemed to be working so well for you before,” you rambled. He can see the shininess in your eyes, feel how your body is no longer resisting him and instead, cradling his neck with affection, empathy, nurture, all the things he’d been depraved of for weeks. “But then it made everything worse and I didn’t know what to do—“

He cut you off, as if suddenly things didn’t line up. ”Why did you come back?"

You lick your lips, eyes unable to meet his. “Well I called, and you didn't answer. And I wanted to check up on you, and tell you... um—I mean I always tell you about… I went on a date, my first one in over a year."

Frankie's eyes blankly drift lower, down to your feet, his arms retreating. He takes an awkward step back. "How... how did it go?" He asks slowly, feeling the distance between the two of you growing again.

You throw your hands up in the air, unable to express yourself. “He was…Handsome. Funny. Charming. Paid for me, made me feel pretty, treated me real good—“

He nodded, unable to bring his eyes anywhere else but back to the back on the sink as he listened. “S’good. That’s what you deserve,” he says, jaw tensing.

“Yeah. Yeah it is what I deserve.” You pause, here goes everything. “Except the whole time, I hated the fact that he was nothing like you." 

Frankie’s attention darts back to you as you cup his scruffy face in your hands. "You're irritable, and sassy, and needy and clingy, and you pout when you don't get what you want. And you don't listen to me or stop when I tell you to stop—“

A roasting fest? Now?? “OK, That's, Jesus, I get it—“

"And I love all those things about you.” You hold his gaze, feeling his breath seize in his chest. “And I miss being here. I miss waking up with you every morning, and your smug face being the last I see before I go to sleep. And it took me until after I left to realize how I actually felt about you. This whole year with you has felt like this perfect—“

"High?"

Your brows furrow shyly. “I didn’t want to put it that way, for obvious reasons. But fuck it. Yes. I don’t—I don’t wanna let that go.”

His fingers tense around your waist, almost begging you to say it, spill it out for him and don’t hold back ever again. 

“You got me addicted to you, Francisco."

You aren't aware of how fast he moves, his hands grabbing your neck as he smashes his lips to yours. Your heart is beating out of your chest when he sucks every breath from you, barely separating from your lips to utter "I've waited—so long—for you—“ He hoists you up on his waist and brushes out of the bathroom with your legs wrapped securely around him, his kiss hot and full of passion the entire time. "Wanted you since you first let me have a taste of you.” He slams you on the bed, the familiarity of you two being in this exact situation settles on you. “Wanted you to want me. Want more.”

He continues to engulf your lips with his, his moans vibrating against your tongue. "I shouldn’t—“ he hastily bites your lip with a grunt “—shouldn't have pushed you away—treated you so bad.” He pauses his assault. “I was so scared you didn't want me like that. Couldn't handle pretending I could be okay with it.”

You place your hands on his chest, feeling the pounding of his heart matching yours. "Frankie, I want you."

"Good," he smiles, leaning up to remove his shirt over his shoulders. You whine at the sight. Draping himself over you, his lips never leave your body as he kisses down your chest then back to your lips. You’re unable to bring yourself to action as his body dictates both of your moves.

You feel his bulge pressing painfully against your core, eliciting an obscene moan from your throat. "Frankie—Let me take care—“

"No. Fuck no. I'm taking care of you tonight. And tomorrow, and every fuckin’ day after," he growls.

He kisses you once again but then slowly backs away. "Um, if... if you want that."

He feels your hand tangle in the hair behind his neck as you bring his face back to yours, teeth clashing for dominance. "I want it," you whisper, sucking his lower lip and biting it possessively.

His jaw hitches. “Prove it."

You unbutton your pants, taking his large hand and guiding it down your panties in haste. His digits make contact between your folds, the two of you sighing.

"Oh f-fuck. You want this, don't you?"

"Want you so bad, Frankie. It fucking hurts.”

His fingers dont leave your dripping cunt, spreading your slick around your swollen clit. His other rips your string underwear off with incredible strength. He then helps push your shirt over your head, and you immediately unclasp your bra. Frankie growls lowly at the sight of your perky breasts bouncing from their release. "Fuck, I missed these.” His mouth wraps around as much fat of your tit he could before biting, making you lurch. 

“I—I’m not gonna be slow—I wanted to—“

"Jesus Fish, I don’t care, just take me!"

He plunges two of his thick digits into your soaking heat, making your back arch off the bed. He takes the opportunity to suck a nipple back into his mouth, half his body hovering over you to keep your form perfectly positioned between his mouth and fingers. They teasingly thrust in and out slowly from your hole, intentionally dragging out his torture against you. "So mean to me, baby." His teeth nip at your nipple with a smug grin. "Takin’ my sweet little pussy away from me like that. I barely touched you and you're absolutely soaked. Were you wet on your way here?"

"Frankie I haven't... haven't been able to get off in weeks."

"How long?"

You moan out loud, eyes rolling back as your brain turns to mush. Your hand tries to guide his wrist faster but he slaps it away, continuing his teasing ministrations.

"Answer me!"

"Since the last time you touched me!" You cry.

He haults his movements. 

The girl who bragged about cumming an average of 6 times a day just grinding on a pillow, now telling him she hasn't been able to orgasm in a month, because of him.

Ohhhhhhh fuuuuccccckkkkkfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. “That why you went on your little date, huh?"

You nod shamefully.

"Did you fuck him?"

You whine, eyes burrowing in confusion that he still expected you have coherent thoughts while he had you in this compromising position, teetering on the brink of your much needed orgasm.

"Your date.” He repeats, his wrist slowing down entirely. “Did. You. Fuck. Him."

“No—no! I didn’t even let him kiss me goodnight. Couldn't even get wet for him, that's how bad—Frankie, fuck! please!—bad you've got me fucked up."

He speeds up his hands, satisfied with your confessions. They are thrusting perfectly in and out at record speeds as his jaw clenched around your tit, watching your eyes roll back as your first orgasm in WEEKS overwhelms you fast. You’re shaking violently, legs desperate to close but Frankie pries them open with his strong hand, continuing to dominate your cunt with his incessant fingers.

You feel something else coming as he continues to ram his wrist against you, fingers digging so deep, curling so effortlessly that you can’t stop the gush of liquid squirting out of you. “Oh shit, oh fuckfuckFUCK that’s it! That’s my girl, holy fuck yeah—yeah keep going, Cariño, so fucking good.” He continues to finger fuck you repeatedly, working you through it as your pussy continues to contract and release your spend.

You hardly have time to process your embarrassment as he's shifting below your hips, throwing your thighs over shoulder and giving your soaked pussy a longing look. Your clit twitches excitedly. Cool air is blown on it, making you fist his hair harder. He presses his large nose into you, inhaling your scent like bloodhound, growling like a man possessed at the sticky coating. "I fucking missed you, Hermosa," he groans, and his mouth latched right on to your pulsing cunt. You gasp, hands fisting his hair as he rolls your overstimulated clit with his tongue, jaw opening wide to practically swallow your pussy whole, sucking away everything you're giving him.

Whether he was talking to you or your pussy, it didn’t really matter to you. All you could process was the rough feeling of his fat tongue and scruffy face rubbing perfectly between your legs as Frankie got reacquainted with his former addiction. "FrankieFrankieFranke-ohFUCK!"

You can’t stop him, can’t even warn him as the overstimulation send you into a fit of gasps, cumming again, legs squeezing his head as painful pleasure courses through you. His upper back is littered in your scratches, the red marks raising his skin like tiger stripes.

You're struggling to catch your breath with ragged moans. He slows his licks to draw it out, letting your spasms pass. His sinful, lidded eyes have never left your face, absorbing every reaction from you, committing it to memory.

"You really have neglected this poor pussy," he teases, kissing your clit as his fingers begin to spread your glistening folds once again.

You can only nod, arms covering your face as he starts to rub the pad of his thumb on your swollen nub again. “It’s—not as good—unless it’s you.”

He grits his teeth in satisfaction. “S’okay. M’ gonna take care of you now. Gonna fuck you real soon."

You whine when he pushes his fingers back in to your tight heat.

"And then, when I’m done fucking you—We're gonna fuck again," he laughs.

You’re a bit frightened with how he’s looking at you: like he’s fucking possessed by a hungry, malicious demon.

He makes you cum on his fingers again, then his lips, then both at once. He’s pinning you down so harshly, you have no choice but to take the endless barrage of orgasms he’s forcing from you, almost as if he’s trying to make up for the time you two have been apart. 

By the time his tastebuds are content, he brings himself back up to you, messily kissing your lips so you taste yourself, his beard and stache now soaked in your cum and rubbing along your chin.

You gasp when you feel his hard cock sliding along your folds. He rolls his hips against you, your copious slick letting him glide effortlessly, tip nudging your clit.

“Frankie,” you warn, unable to handle his teasing now.

He grabs the base of his dick. “Beg. Beg me for it,” He commands with a godly voice you’d never heard him use before. He slaps the underside of his throbbing member repeatedly against your pussy with a taptaptaptap. “Tell me you want it.”

You don’t care for the fat tears spilling down your cheeks as you whine like a bitch in heat. “Fuckyou, Frankie,” you seethe, anger building with your desperation. “I fucking want it, want it so bad, want you to ruin me, please, Fish, fucking please put it in already!”

He grins, big and sadistic as he watches your face contort with the first push of his tip into your wetness. “Oh F—“ he breathes, eyes closing as your tight walls do their best to accomodate his size.

Your eyesight is blurry, waves of pleasure rolling throughout your entire body, delirious as he bottoms out. Where he belongs. Where he’s always meant to be.

He presses his forehead to you as his hips start rutting.

He’s hardly fucked you for a few seconds, but the pressure building inside of you, desperate for this moment again after months, isn’t giving you a choice to savor it. “Fish—fuckfuckfuckfuckFUCK! ‘M not gonna last!"

He growls excitedly, driving his cock more harshly into you, reaching that special spot he’s decided is only his to abuse. “It’s okay, babygirl. You cum for me. You're always so good at it."

And you are, you really are. “OH FUCK FRANKIE!” You scream. Your body agreeing with him so much that your abrupt orgasm squeezes around him so hard, his movements stop altogether.

“Oh shit—“ he hisses, your pussy greedily milking the cum right out of him. He only pauses for a moment, shaking over you for a moment as his first orgasm subsides before his hips are moving of their own accord, his cum forced out with each thrust.

“Keep goin’, pretty thing. Give me more,” he grunts. 

You nod deliriously, eyes rolled to the back of your skull as he pounds your battered puussy.

He pulls out, the sudden withdrawal making you whine with emptiness. He sinks to his knees again, yanking your knees up to your chest. Your pussy twitches, his cum spilling out and sinking down your ass.

He lets out of primal groan from the back of his throat before smashing his mouth on your cunt, sucking your clit and tongue fucking your hole like a cream filled pastry. You feel the descending bob of his Adam’s apple against your rear as he swallows the mixture of your cum, drinking it like liquid life from the source. “We taste—so—fucking—good, Princesa,” he taunts, tongue lapping your little clit in quick succession before shaking his head back and forth aggressively against your mound, smearing the obscene mixture across your folds and making a mess.

Oh fuck, he’s so gone.

He quickly gets on his knees, turning you over on your stomach like you weigh nothing. His hands grip around your hips, bringing them flush against his crotch again as you arch your back for him. He puts his palm on the small of your back, keeping you right there, pressed tight against him as his cock slides back into your eager and cum coated cunt.

“Fuck yeah,” he groans, setting a faster pace this time. You hadn't realized just how much Frankie was holding back the first time you had sex. He leans over your body, hands splayed past your shoulders, fisting the bed as he rails you deep, his thighs crashing against you with harsh slaps. Your temple lands against his cheek, meeting eye contact. He smiles, breath caught in his throat like running a mile at your fucked out expression. 

He continues to fuck you like an animal. A soft hand grips your chin lovingly, tilting your head further back so his lips meet yours with each punishing grind. You’re surprised by how much you love the hold he has on you, willingly submitting to him without being told. Drunk on each other’s lust.

You suck greedily around his tongue, hand reaching behind the two of you to play with his soft brown curls, refusing to let him leave your mouth. He stutters with a few more thrusts before halting, eyes scrunched closed. “AUUGHHH—haaaahh!” You feel the twitch of him inside you, draining his balls some more of his plentiful seed. 

“Fuck, fuck I love it when you cum inside me!” You confess. The action makes you fall forward, mouth burying into his pillows as you muffle your own cry of your release again.

He pulls out of you and flops to the bed. You think maybe he is done, after having cum twice now, bur Frankie is quick to bring you to straddle him, his dick never once softening as it presses incessantly to your entrance again. He licks his lips, watching his cum spill down your thighs, right to his creamy cock that refuses to fully part from you. 

“Frankie,” you moan, unsure if you can take him again.

“Want you just like this. Ride me,” he breathes. He’s covered in sweat, out of breath and shaking with a mix of exhaustion and adrenaline if it were possible. His hands gently wrap around your waist as he guides you. Eyes so lidded, transfixed on the area where your mound slowly swallows him again.

You’re nodding, body taking over all actions, completely starved for the man under you. 

He leans up to get a good look at you, taking it slow, burning this in head to remember.

"Thought about you... everyday.” He whispers, mouth parted in lust, gliding your hips along with steady rolls. “Couldn't sleep."

His hands down along the curve of your ass, to your thighs spread out over him, before rubbing up the length of your back, holding you as close to him as he can possibly bring you, your tits pressing against his chest. He struggles to breathe evenly as your creamy pussy continues to tighten around him each time he breaches you, the two of you moaning softly into each others’ open mouths. He occasionally catches your lips, slotting perfectly as you grind against him.

His mouth finds its way back down to your pebbled nipple, biting gently before kissing it better. He brings his face back to yours. “So perfect for me,” he whispers.

You start grinding on him more fervently, lifting yourself on your knees ever slightly and baring down on him. He grits his teeth, sinking further down into the bed, eyes never leaving you as his digs his nails into the meat of your hips, forcing you to bounce harder. 

“That’s it, baby. Ride me just like that. MY girl, my beautiful girl.”

You bite your lips, feelings your clit catch on his public hairs. The sloppy squelching of his cum being driven out of your heat by his thick cock is no match to the heavenly sounds you were making atop him. The vein in his neck strains like he’s suffocating himself from air, refusing to slow down, to take a break, to let go for even just a moment.

“More. Give me more,” you moan, confidence soaring as you feel him begin to meet your hips with every thrust. “I want all of you, Frankie.”

He shouts out, lifting you up, his feet digging into mattress as he fucks you from below. “Fuck, fuck!”

You want to throw your head back, ride out this high, but the dangerous allure of him watching you brings your focus down to him, watching the way the two of you are getting off to the other falling apart.

“Just like this. You n’ me. Want it just like this. Forever.” He mumbles repeatedly, ragged pants uneven as he fills you the way you had been unknowingly wanting for months.  

You feel the build of your umpteenth orgasm building in your lower tummy. “Frankie-F-Franke! I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Do it, Querida, do it f-for me.” He thinks he can starve off the low build of his third orgasm of the night, just enough to make you cum for him once more.

You feel the heavy knot in your stomach snap. With absolutely no hesitation, no doubt behind your word, you cry out, “I love you!” as you cum harder than any time before.

Lifting you both practically off the bed, Frankie’s hips seize, pressed so tightly against yours there was no room between you. He shouts loudly, animalistic, snarling with his teeth baring at you and 0 control left in him, immediately emptying his load deep inside with each heavy pulse of his cock against your cervix, painting your walls white with the last of his cum that his balls could give you.

You collapse on top of him, the two of you sucking  air like you were underwater for years. Neither of you say anything, covered in sweat and cum, but finally being able to relax from the pent up release that’s been building there far longer than it ever should have been.

His hand rests against your lower back, somehow pressing your naked body closer to his. 

“I love you,” you whisper again to his collarbone. He brings your eyes to his, and this time he knows you mean it.

-

Frankie wakes to a cold bed.

His arm reaches out subconsciously for your body, but only feels cool empty sheets at his side. His eyes fly open, head sitting upright as he scans his bedroom. There's no sign of you. None of your clothes are scattered on the floor, no immediate trace of your scent. He feels a strong pain in his chest suffocating and stabbing him all at once.

He lies back flat on his pillow, fingers rubbing his forehead. He has two thoughts: the first thought, the one he'd rather think is true, is that it was all dream. You hadn't come home to him.

Before he could bring himself to consider the pain of the second thought, the fear is instantly squashed when he hears the door creak open, your sweet soft smile and gentle eyes landing on him.

‘Hiiiii,” you whisper in a singsong, gentle morning voice. Tip toeing bare foot on the hardwood floor, he see’s you’re dressed in nothing but one of Frankies slightly torn over sized, faded band T shirts that swallows your body. Your bed head still evident, eyes baggy yet happy from the events of last night.

He didn't realize he had held his breath the moment before you walked in, afraid that rather than having dreamt it all, that it did happen, and you had left him anyway.

"I made you tea," you hummed, setting the two cups down by his bedside table.

Your ears go red at the image of him: sheet pulled half way up his hip, his bare chest and torso visible as he props himself up with his elbows to get a good look at you. And the WAY he's looking at you, like you’re the only thing that matters in the world, has you sheepishly avoiding his big brown pupils, sliding in to the covers and nuzzling your head against his shoulder.

He wraps his arms around you, unwilling to let you sneak off again. “Don’t wake up before me like that again.”

You giggle. “Frankie, it’s 4 in the afternoon.” 

He checks his digital clock by the bed, true to your word. You both had fucked so hard, so long last night that he didn’t even realize it was well into the morning by the time you had drifted to sleep. 

He lies back down in bed, encircling you to him again. He can more clearly see the damage of last night’s episode on you: bite marks along your tits, hickies against your inner thighs and swollen lips. he doesn’t even need to touch your pussy, feeling its puffy soreness pressing against his leg. He kisses you gently yet passionately this morning, cradling your head so you can’t back away. Not that you want to—he doesn’t feel any resistance in your movements as you devour his lips. 

“I love you,” he says clearly. He can feel the way your breath hitches, the blush on your cheeks at the confession. “I love you, and I’m so sorry it took me so long to say it. I’m sorry I caused you so much confusion and I—“

“Okay, Fish. It’s okay. I know.” You bite your lip, pushing your hand against his chest so that he’s lying down on his back. “But I’m not sure I forgive you just yet.”

A brief moment of confusion wracks his face before you’re clambering on top of him again, your naked lower body straddling his under the sheet. You fist the t shirt of your head, letting your soft supple breasts fall. Frankie immediately grabs them tenderly with both of his warm hands, his breath quickening. His length twitches, hard as a rock and pressing right against his lower stomach as you glide your slick folds along him.

“I think you should keep making it up to me.” You align the tip of his throbbing cock against your swollen entrance and sink down, hands seeking purchase on his chest, scratching the skin there as he fills your sore cunt, taking him down to the hilt in one go.

You let out the tiniest, sexiest whimper, and Frankie is ready to drop everything he’s ever owned just to hear it again. So smitten with you, he’s grinning harder than he has his entire life. Like a big dumb idiot.

Your big dumb idiot.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Querida: I love you.”

Tagging people who either requested a part 2/3 or directly requested to be tagged. At least what i can remember (sorry if I missed you!)

- - - -

Series masterlist

Series Taglist: @paleidiot @pedropascalsbbg @tonakings @nerdieforpedro @thewritermj @ahintofkiwistrawberry @perfectly-imperfect-me23 @sammy-4103 @survivingandenduring @millercontracting @emilyjustemily @boiistfu @pedritoferg @missladym1981 @titlee78 @fairytale07 @multiplefandomwritings @steviesimp @marisemonteiroo @dilfluverrrrrrr @howdigetinhere @jessthebaker

Permanent Taglist: @harriedandharassed 

[featherandferns]

F.W.B : where are they now?

jj maybank x fem!reader

content warning: mentions of sex; alcohol; violence

word count: 1.4k.

read F.W.B | Thank you so so much for 1000 followers!!! Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics so far…

You land on the mat with a smack. Blood fills your mouth, sticking to the guard, and you spit it onto the floor. It’s an ugly swirl of pink-ish saliva. The referee is going to start counting you down any minute. Your head is pounding, body aching, ears ringing. It’s one of the biggest matches of the school year so the room is packed to the brim. People are cheering and chanting and it creates a dichotomy of pandemonium. For you, it’s the biggest match of your career. The college that could supply you with your dream scholarship and ticket out of a trailer-park life has sent a scout here tonight. They’re here to see you. Clinging onto that, you rock onto your knees and spit once more. The ref has started to count. You close your eyes and try to steal yourself. That’s when you can make it out. 

JJ’s voice carries over everyone else's, singing to you like a siren. He’s hollering like someone’s house is on fire. 

“Come on, baby! Let’s go!” 

Your eyes shoot open and you seek him out. Front row - stood settled between the Pogues who are egging you on - JJ’s clapping his hands and nodding emphatically. He meets your gaze and it hardens you. Ignites you with newfound vigour. You grit your teeth and give him a barely-there nod, and then you’re hopping back onto your feet. A new wave of cheers crashes around you as rock on your toes and heels, readying your fists. You settle your gaze on your competitor. She isn’t that big. Isn’t that strong. You can take her. Picture her face morphing into Kelce’s. Into every person who’s ever wronged you, made fun of you, looked at you the wrong way. Growling, you waste no time in throwing the first punch the minute the ref allows. As your gloved fist meets her skin, you hear JJ shouting. 

“That’s what I’m talking about! Let’s go, mama!”

JJ’s endless support energises you for the rest of the night like an endless line of cocaine. And when your competitor finally taps out, on the brink of blacking out, and the ref holds your arm up in victory, JJ’s celebration is louder than an erupting volcano. 

The second you’re free from the ring he tackles you in a hug. 

“That was fucking insane, baby! God damn! That was hot as hell!”

You laugh as he practically wrestles you in his enthusiastic embrace. He breaks apart from you when you’re ushered into the changing rooms. You speed through the post-match clean-up and emerge in a pair of his sweats (tied double at the waist to keep them from falling down) and an oversized t-shirt from a competition you won a couple of years back. The look on JJ’s face would make someone think that you’re dressed to the nines for the Oscars, though.

He hooks an arm around your shoulder, grinning proud, and the two of you load into the Twinkie with the other Pogues who share their congrats on your win. You still haven’t shaken him when you pull up to the Chateau. Loud chatter warns of your coming as the six of you walk up. It looks the same as always aside from the makeshift banner hung along the porch. It’s made of an old fitted sheet; you can recognise JJ’s handwriting from a mile away. In his familiar scrawl, it reads Well Done to the Sexiest Girl on Earth. 

Amused, you look at JJ and quirk a brow. “Sexiest girl?”

“Just stating facts,” he shrugs with a grin. 

“He needed my help on how to spell it,” Pope chimes in as he walks past, heading for the cooler. JJ prods him in the chest before wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you against him. Leaning your head back against his chest, you sigh and let JJ sway you in his hold as the other four chatter. 

“That was a hell of a fight, huh?” JJ says, just loud enough for you to hear. 

Looking up at him, you find his eyes already trained down on you. Smiling, you reply, “I know. I’m pretty impressive.”

“And modest,” he says, squeezing your body teasingly. 

“And sexy, apparently,” you add, referring to his banner. 

“Like that’s a surprise?”

“Mm, you got a point,” you say, playing along. “You might’ve mentioned it a few times.”

“Happy to mention it a few more,” JJ grins boyishly, dipping his head down to meet your lips with his.

You easily twirl in his embrace, coiling your arms over his shoulders to deepen the kiss. His tongue shamelessly slips into your mouth and his fingers slide under your t-shirt. 

“Knock it off love birds,” Kiara calls. 

There’s no hurry to break apart. 

“You guys make me sick,” Pope mutters, collapsing into a chair. 

JJ gropes your ass before walking away just to irritate his friend further. Your cheeks flame hot despite biting back a smile. Your boyfriend flashes you a grin and tosses you a beer. The two of you settle into seats and join the conversation with the others. John B starts up the music and the six of you get to celebrating.

Beer pong and wrestling and impression-offs and dumb drinking games. You and JJ shotgun a beer and once downed, JJ slaps your hand into a bro-like hug and plants a kiss to your lips. The juxtaposition is the perfect summarisation of your dynamic. Jesting and casual in front of others, and sweet and sentimental behind closed doors. He knew the deepest and darkest parts of you, and you him. 

“Thank you,” you say to JJ at some point in the night. “For all this.”

“Course,” JJ replies. He says it like it’s obvious; like it’s ludicrous to think that he wouldn’t go all out to celebrate your success. 

Finishing your beer, you look around the night-casted scene and find your eyes settling on the banner once more. Something occurs to you and you begin to laugh. 

“Wait, what would you guys have done if I didn’t win?” you ask.

“I guess we would’ve taken that down,” John B says, nodding to the banner, “and made it a feel-better-soon party?”

“I mean, celebratory beer and sad-times beer are the same beer, so,” JJ agrees, tipping his bottle up as he makes his point. 

“We knew you were gonna win though,” Sarah says from John B’s lap. 

“The odds were literally stacked in your favour,” Kiara adds. “With the winning streak you’ve been on lately? Girl!”

“That’s actually a common misconception,” Pope says. Everyone groans and JJ tosses a handful of grass at him. “I’m just saying! It’s called hot-hand fallacy!”

“Dude. Not the time,” JJ says.

Pope shuts down his spiel with that. You shoot him an apologetic smile, appreciative of his Pope-like support. A yawn slips out and suddenly the exhaustion from your earlier fight hits at once. JJ seems to notice, always hyper-aware of you. 

“Wanna head home?”

“I’m beat,” is your reply. 

“A’right, we’re off,” JJ announces, finishing his drink with two swigs and ditching the can. He takes your hand to help you out of your seat and the two of you make your way to the drive. The others holler their farewells and final congratulations on your scholarship win. Their indefatigable conversing fades into the soundscape of the night as you and JJ walk back to your house, fingers intertwined. 

“So, college, huh?” he says. 

“College,” you hum. 

“What’d you think that’ll mean for us?” 

You smile and glance up at him, and for the first time in your life, realise that you’re not afraid of losing him. “Same thing as always. Great sex and great company.”

“Just in another city?”

“It’s only Raleigh,” you hum. “Two hour drive tops.” 

“Sides, not like I’ll be going to college anytime soon, so I can just come visit you,” JJ agrees. 

You nod and lean against his arm as the two of you continue to walk. “I love you, y’know? I wanna make this thing work.”

“It will,” JJ assures. “You’re the best sex I’ve ever had. I’ll chase that to Raleigh.”

“Spoken like a poet,” you sardonically return.

His ambush of wet kisses to your cheek has you laughing, pawing him away. His hand finds yours and the two of you finish the journey to your house, hearts intertwined like your fingers, the future unclear aside from the fact that you and JJ would face it together.     

[bumblesimagines]

i'm not in love with them. i have feelings for someone else, someone i can't have.

could you ever see yourself loving me?

- Sarah. Cameron

could you ever see yourself loving me?

i'm not in love with them. i have feelings for someone else, someone i can't have.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

potential sequel to this

They were so stupid.

Every single one of them. He wanted to strangle them, even JJ and especially John Booker Routledge. Their stupidity, their amazing talent at getting in trouble, the Routledge greed that ran strong. It pissed him off to no end, especially when they dragged his brother into their foolishness knowing their family history, knowing just about every cop in town knew their last name by heart. 

A ride that normally would've taken about nineteen minutes took (Y/N) just a little over five in his blind rage. His dirt bike skidded to a stop by the mobile home, kicking up leaves and dirt in its wake. He ripped the helmet off his head, jaw clenching and unclenching as he stormed up to the porch. No sign of the stupidly named van, but that never meant at least one Pogue wasn't lingering about. The door shook violently when he threw it open, startling the blonde lying on the couch. She blinked at him owlishly, slowly sitting up.

"(Y/N)? What are you-"

"Where's your latest boyfriend, Sarah?" He asked her, or more like snapped at her, one hand tightly clutching his helmet and the other shoving the front door open. Sarah stood up from the couch, slipping her phone in the back pocket of her shorts, her doe eyes flickering between him and the door. 

"Who are you talking about? John B? He's not here. He- He went to drop Kie off-" The Carrera House. He vaguely knew the address. (Y/N) hummed, brushing past her and making his way back toward the porch's door. Sarah scoffed softly, slapping her hand over his arm and grabbing hold of his sleeve. "Hey! What's your problem?" 

"My problem-" He whirled around to face her, getting right up in her face. Sarah blinked, her brows knitting further, but she remained stubbornly rooted in her spot. Fuckin' Camerons. "-is that you idiots are in trouble with Barry. I tell John B to drop this little treasure hunt and then, I get a call from my boss tellin' me that my brother and his stupid little friends jumped him."

"He tried robbing us!"

"It's the Cut, Sarah. Everyone steals shit from others. It's basic survival, which you wouldn't know a thing about, princess." (Y/N) hissed, inhaling a sharp breath and releasing it in a low groan. He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to cool his anger. "What are you doing here, Sarah?"

"We were hanging out-"

"No, what the fuck are you doing here? In the Cut with Routledge? Out of all the boys you could've chosen to rebound with, it had to be the dumbest one here? He's a Routledge, Sarah. They're not exactly known for being good husbands. Hell, Big John chased off his chick and blamed her for it. You're going to be fucking miserable, I'll tell you that much." He told her, turning on his heel and tugging the door open again, nearly pulling it off its already loosened hinges. "You were better off picking Pope or staying with Thornton." 

"I- I didn't pick anyone!" She shouted after him, the door creaking loudly when she opened it and followed him down the steps. He spared her a glance over his shoulder, wrapping a hand around one of the handles and quirking a brow at her when she grabbed the other one. "I'm not with John B, alright? I'm not in love with him. I have feelings for someone else, someone I can't have, by the looks of it."

(Y/N) stared at her, placing his helmet over the seat and cocking his head to the side. "Don't start, Sarah. You can't tell me you caught feelings after we slept together once."

"It was before that-"

"We never spoke before that!"

"That's not what I mean!" She huffed, running a frustrated hand through her hair, her shoulders rising and falling with a heavy exhale. Sarah looked away from him and groaned softly, pushing her hair away from her face again when it tumbled back over her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around herself, the leaves crunching loudly under her feet as she stepped away from him and the bike. "I-... I liked you before that." She admitted in a murmur.

"Oh, please, Sarah, could you ever see yourself loving me? Being in a relationship with me? You're just desperate to feel unique and different. Pop a xanny like the rest of your girlfriends or take some molly and you'll feel better, trust me." 

"You're a dick."

"And the sky's blue but what else is new?" (Y/N) swung his leg over the bike seat, tilting his helmet over and slipping it on. Sarah watched him with a frown, the wind gently ruffling her blonde locks. He revved the bike and glanced over his shoulder at the long dirt road. "Here's some advice, princess: don't toss shit away people would kill to have or you'll end up like the rest of us."

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Maybanks sister

Series masterlist , previous chapter

Taglist- @cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow

Part 2, Chapter 2- a not so fun sleepover

Summary: it is just your luck at this point. You and Kiara get caught by some weird people in the Barbados after finally getting off ‘poguelandia.’ You’re trapped with your psycho ex. Again. For a second time.

After what felt like a year, finally, someone had come to rescue you guys.

Now, you guys had been saved. You were thankful for whoever this dude was for picking you guys up, thankful to get off this damn island already.

“I got a little guide out in Saint Vincent. I was spotting fish.” He told you guys as you sat down in his plane.

“What were you spotting?” You asked the man, curious.

“You know, the usual. Wahoo.”

You quirked an eyebrow, JJ also seemed confused as he turned to you.

“Wahoo? In September?” You whispered to JJ. He had the same confused look.

“That doesn’t make sense.” He whispered back.

“I’d hang on to something. Gets a little spicy on takeoff.”

“Wahoo doesn’t run in September. Like ever.” You told them all quietly. “Kinda wish it did, cause then we’d have been eating it…” you trailed off. “It tastes so good.”

“Yeah. So whoever this dude is, he’s not a fisherman.” JJ spoke.

“Maybe the run just starts earlier out here.” Pope shrugged.

You tilted your head to the side. “In the carribean? Unlikely. They usually-“

“No, I know what this is. He’s working for my dad. And he’s probably been looking for us the entire time.” Sarah cut you off, everyone turning to her now.

“All right, we gotta find out.” JJ said. “Just gotta look for clues…”

You tapped on JJs shoulder, and pointed to a bag on the back of his seat.

“Hey, Jimmy.” John B spoke, distracting the man while JJ slowly reached for the bag, taking it and rummaging through everything. He opened a book and found a picture, a picture of the coastal venture.

He handed it to Sarah.

“So he was looking for us?” Cleo said.

“Exactly.”

“He’s working for my dad.”

“I say we all jump off.” You pointed down. The plane shook suddenly, you all grabbing on.

“Hey, yall better hold something we got some unexpected turbulence up here.”

“Guys, whatever it is, it’s happening fast. Look.”

Everyone looked out the window, seeing some land.

“That looks like Barbados. I’ve been there with Terrence.”

“Okay.. there’s 7 of us, one of him. You know my vote, we storm the cockpit.” Jj told everyone.

“Idiot. None of us know how to fly a damn plane.” You hit him in the arm.

“I’ve seen pope fly simulators.”

“Yeah, and I’ve flown the fucking Death Star on Lego Star Wars, doesn’t mean I can fly.” You shrugged.

“Well do you have an idea?” He turned to you.

“Something safe..?”

“Why don’t we just wait until the plane lands somewhere safe, and then we sneak out. And if someone comes to mess with us, we mad dog them.” Pope spoke.

“Yeah. I like that way better.” You nodded.

“I like the mad-dogging part.” Jj tilted his head.

“Just put that back. Put it back. Be cool.” Kiara told JJ, John B distracting him again so JJ could put the stuff back into the bag.

“I’ve been going since I was 18-“ he spoke, and heard a sudden noise. JJ had been caught.

“Hey man! What the hell are you doing?” He turned to JJ, slapping him away. “That’s mine! That’s my book, give it back!”

“Fly the plane! Please fly the plane. Please fly the plane.” Sarah said, the plane shaking. You were knocked straight into Cleo who helped you sit back up quickly.

The plane crashed into the water as he struggled to get it up. Everyone screaming as they fell into the back, you all piling on top of each other. The plane filled with water.

“Is everybody good?” You asked them, everyone coughing.

“Jj, wake up, man we gotta get out.” you helped him get up. John B shoved open the door, multiple people coming over.

“Oh no. They don’t look friendly.”

“No, they look very unfriendly!”

“We gotta go, come on.”

They all got out.

“Kie, go!” You told her.

“I’m coming. Go!”

“I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Guys, get out before it sinks!” JJ told you both. Kiara looked at you and back behind you, at the man sinking.

You groaned when she began to swim over, you following.

“Come on, you gotta hurry!”

They all shouted out you both. You helped Kiara get through the plane and unbuckled the man, helping her carry him through the window.

The others were all swimming now.

“Come on guys, hurry up! Hurry up!”

“We got you.” Kiara panted to him, the man unconscious as you both carried him to shore.

“Wait, where are they?” Jj asked, turning around.

“You guys, where the fuck are they?”

“They went the other way.”

You both brought him up to shore, Kiara coughing as you brought her close to you.

“Thank you.” The man told you both, awake now.

“You lied to us. Who are you?” Kiara asked, an Atv interrupting him.

“Oh God. You should get out of here.”

You stood up, helping Kiara up and both of you running away from the men.

“Oh my God. Oh my God.” JJ mumbled, watching.

You both looked around, a car pulling up. You both hid by a boat, before getting caught.

“They’re over here!”

You punched a man square in the face who tried to grab Kiara, sweeping his leg and making him fall before another caught your arm. And another grabbing Kiara as you thrashed and screamed.

“Get off!” You shouted, they both dragged you guys into their trucks as you struggled.

“What… what are we gonna do?” JJ asked, teary eyes. “We’re going after them, right?”

“What… what can we do?” John B spoke.

“Where are they talking them?”

“They’re all right there, they’re looking this way we gotta go.” Cleo said and began to swam. The other followed but Jj stayed behind for a moment.

“JJ come on. We can’t save them if we get caught.”

“We lost the others. We’ll keep searching.” You heard a voice over the man’s radio.

Kiara stayed in the bed of the truck, you looked around for a moment before jumping out and before you could even tell her to get out, you were being shouted at.

You ran away, as far as you could. But that wasn’t very far before they caught you again, one of them punching you and knocking you down, your cheek falling right back onto the sand.

“Jesus, dude! I’m gonna have a black fucking eye!” You shouted, groaning as they threw you back into the truck.

“Worth a shot, I guess.” You shrugged when Kiara looked at you in shock.

The pilot came up to the truck.

“We saved your life.” Kiara whispered to him.

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. I’m gonna try to help you, okay? I swear, I didn’t know it was gonna be like this. Look, if you don’t fight, if you just do what they say, these guys probably… they probably won’t hurt you.”

“Probably?” You recoiled, making a face at him.

“What did Ward promise you?” Kiara asked.

“Who? Hey, just take my advice, do what they say. Good luck.”

The man got back in the truck.

“All right, let’s go.”

- - - - ᨳ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ഒ - - - -

“Jesus, this dude is loaded.” You whispered to yourself when the truck drove up to the house. Kiara and you looked at each other worriedly as you were being walked in.

The house was huge, full of antiques and relics.

“Take them upstairs. The Orinoco room.” One women said, and you both were grabbed by the arm and dragged upstairs.

You shoved the dudes arm off you when you entered the room.

“Inside.”

“Why are we here? Who are you working for?”

“Dinner at eight. I’d clean up.”

“Just tell us what they want!-“ Kiara shouted, but the man shut the door in her face and the door locked.

“Great. This is fun. A little sleepover.”

Kiara looked out the window, and you looked at the dresses hanging up.

“At least they’ve got taste…?” You mumbled, flicking through the dresses. Two red dresses for each size.

“Pick your size.” The note read. You shrugged to yourself, grabbing one.

“Least it gets me out of these clothes.”

Later, the both of you were escorted downstairs.

“You know, this dress looks actually pretty good on me. Think they’ll let me keep it?” You asked Kiara when you walked downstairs, looking at yourself in a mirror.

“Why out of everyone to be stuck with did it have to be you?” She murmured.

“I’m offended. I think it’s a lot better than being struck with JJ. I’m just trying to lighten the mood.”

As you walked down and were directed into a room.

“Uh, excuse me?” Kiara said to a man, with a shaved head.

The man turned around, his eyes meeting yours first, his face falling.

“No, I knew you and Ward were behind this shit.” Kiara spoke, your mouth agape as you stared at him as in shock.

“What are you talking about? You guys trying to weasel in on my deal? Is that what’s going on?” He walked towards Kiara.

“No fucking way!” You shouted, turning on your heels, holding your hands up and beginning to walk out before a guard manhandled you inside, throwing you onto the floor. “Goddamnit!” You huffed.

“Is there like any other room I can be in? Specifically without him?” You asked the guard, before he slammed the door in your face.

“Seriously?” Rafe started. “You’re so fucking imm-“

“Yes, seriously! Last time I saw you was months ago, and you held a gun to my head and a knife to my throat! How am I immature?” You pointed at him, standing up and getting closer to him, shouting in his face now.

“I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know.” A man said. All of you turning to him now. He chuckled and turned.

“Who are you?” Rafe asked the man.

“Me? My name is Carlos Singh. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cameron. And Ms. Carrera and l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics of bringing you here.”

He turned his gaze to you.

“And I heard you’re a fighter. And a runner. Roughed up a few of my guys.” He chuckled. “All is forgiven. Please, come.” He motioned to the other room.

Kiara looked back at you.

“Sit down.”

Rafe looked at Kiara and at you, you sneered at him and walked behind Kiara, your arms crossed as you sat down on a chair.

“Rough tactics. What about me?” Rafe asked the man.

“Yes, Mr. Cameron. False pretenses. But, the ends justify the means, I’m afraid. Sit. Please.”

Rafe sat on a chair next to you, while you scooted over as far as you possibly could. He exhaled as he looked at you and back at the man.

“We have a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, fucking right we do.” You scoffed, leaning back in the chair.

- - - - ᨳ꒰ ୨୧ ꒱ഒ - - - -

“Hey. Hey!” He shouted, hanging on the closed door and messing with the doorknob.

“Oh my God, yeah I’m gonna lock myself in the bathroom, do not disturb me.” You murmured as the man shut the door, Kiara grabbing your wrist and stopping you.

“If I have to deal with him, so do you.”

You groaned. “It’s locked, you dumbass.” You told him when he tried to continue to get it open. Kiara and you walked towards the window, he followed.

“Get off me, man!” Portis shouted.

“Who the hell is that guy?” Rafe asked, watching the man be dragged.

“We know him. It’s Jimmy Portis. He was trying to help us.” Kiara whispered. Singh looked at the window, pulling out a gun.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Rafe spoke, the man dissapearing in the back. All you could hear was the gun firing.

Rafe swallowed, Kiara panted, your mouth hung open in shock.

“This diary. Hey, no bullshit.” He turned to you, “don’t bullshit me. Do you guys have it?”

“I don’t know anything about a damn diary!” You told him. “You sure you don’t?”

“I think I would know if I fucking-“ he started.

“Kie?” You turned to her, voice hopeful. She shook her head.

“No.”

“Well, it’s official. We’re all dying together.” You said with a groan, running a hand over your face.

“Nobodies dying.” Rafe said, glancing at you.

“Yeah? What’s your bright idea then, buzz?” You asked, your arms crossed.

Ouch, went straight for the haircut.

[jjclopelover]

How he talks to/about her v.s. How he talks to/about him

I'm back with more analysis' about JJPope and why it's better than anything either of them had with Kie.

Today I'm talking about JJ and how he speaks of and to them and why the difference in how he does it speaks VOLUMES.

JJ talking about Kie (S1): "Of course, I'm hitting on her. She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick, slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I tried it. Have you?"

JJ talking about Pope(S2): "Ain't all that bad. Just look at the guy over there. He would do anything for us. That's a Pouge if I've ever seen one. Bone-deep. That's just one man's opinion, though."

THE DIFFERENCE.

JJ talking to/about Pope:

"For once in your life, trust someone else."

~~~

"You're the golden boy."

~~~

Topper: "Hey, I just wanna make sure everyone here is okay with ending up in federal prison."

JJ: "Uh, if it gets to that, yeah, I'll do it for Pope."

~~~

"I'm here for you, Pope. Welcome to my world, okay?"

~~~

JJ talking to/about Kie:

"And you--I mean, you're already rich as fuck anyway. Why would you bother?"

~~~

"Okay. Not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kiara."

~~~

"Hell of a job melting it down, Dr.Frankenstein."

~~~

(I don't need to put anymore as all of JJ's quotes for Kie are from the first half of S1 lol.)

As you can see, JJ speaks highly of Pope and lowly of Kie. He sees being a pouge as a badge of honor and gave Pope the highest honor. He sees Pope as someone he can relate too and shares a deep connection too.

He doesn't see that with Kie.

And I hear Jiara stans saying "What about S3? He was so worried about her and went back to get her!"

And to that, I say, "Yeah...cuz it's JJ."

His number one trait as a character is his loyalty. It's his best trait as it shows how much he will do for his friends. But also his worst trait as he puts his friends over his own being and in the end it only hurts him.

JJ would have reacted the same if it was anyone else in that situation.

Like when John B was a wanted criminal, JJ did anything for him. (risking to get arrested himself, shooting cops, and being by his side when he was on the run)

Or when Sarah is dealing with Ward or Rafe, JJ is always watching over her. (running after a car that held a drugged Sarah unconscious in the back, jumping in a shipping crate to get her and the cross back, staying by her side, and keeping an eye on her when John B was found guilty in court.)

And even Cleo who just joined the crew, JJ makes sure to treat her like the rest of the pouges. (like when he praised her for convincing Pope's parents to let him go to South America)

And we all know that he would do the same if not more for Pope. (going to jail for him, almost getting arrested for him again, taking over an entire boat of men to get his cross plus Sarah, risking being seen with him at Midsummers when he was supposed to be undercover, taking a beating from his dad for him, fighting for him at the outdoor movie, being super protective about him anytime he was around Limbrey and Renfield, keeping the secret that Pope was the one who actually sunk the boat and lying to the others, bringing Pope to his cousin Ricky's house to save his life even tho Ricky was still pissed at him for stealing his ambulance.)

And many, MANY, more.

The way we are introduced to JJ who loves and protects Pope but pushes Kie aside

versus

The way they "built up" S3 JJ for a toxic relationship with Kie but as a result of that he has to push Pope aside.

The writers and creators gave us s1 JJ, that's how his character was made and supposed to be portrayed. S3 JJ was built off toxic fans who threatened their way into an unfortunate canon ship.

Toxic stans = Toxic ship.

You Jiara stans wonder why JJ felt out of character, or why the Jiara chemistry felt forced or fake. That's because it was.

You can't force chemistry.

All the OBX cast did chemistry reads to see which duos worked together as a couple and which didn't. But the one duo that did not do a chemistry read was JJ and Kie (Rudy and Madi)

why?

because the creators saw no need. as they weren't even thinking of getting those two characters together. JJ was supposed to end up with Cleo. That was one of the many reasons Cleo came back as a main character.

What they would do with Kie and Pope, I don't know and I don't care. But Any ending would have been better than canon Jiara.

Anywaysssss

JJ treats Pope like he's his partner

and

JJ treats Kie like she's his sister

But let's be honest...we all see that, don't we?

Editor's note: Sry this took so long lol, life's been busy :)

[outerbankspov]

Forbidden love.

- warning: fluff, supportive best friends, jealous kie..

Requested by- @giannadrichardson-blog 💋

.. When you hear “kook and pogue” all you think is the rivalry between the two groups who live on the opposite side of one island, dating one another is FORBIDDEN. So why is y/n bailing JJ Maybank out of the county jail. “J you can’t keep doing this baby” you tell him as he leads you to the side of the station and kisses your neck. “Come on, I’m sure it turns you on when you bail me out of jail.” He mumbled. “Not my bank account. Come on” you kiss him And quickly went inside your car. Getting situated you look at him. You secretly love bailing him out.

“Take me to yours?” He says. You smile and agreed. God you love him so much and it’s so bad that you do because he’s a kook. Everyone wants you to date the kook king Rafe Cameron but he is your beloved best friend since diapers and surprisingly he’s okay with you and JJ because he wants you happy and he quoted. “No one is better than me on this island so go for it”. You would Just role your eyes at his self centered self.

Once you get home JJ’s eyes lighten when he sees his dirt bike sitting in her driveway. “Baby…. How in the hell?” You look at him and gives him a kiss to distract his mind. “Come on” you say as you get out the car and drags him with you. “Stay the night” you begin as you give him the best puppy dog eyes. “Baby….” He groans already knowing he’ll say yes because he loves you too much. “Okay deal.” He walks up close to you and starts kissing your soft lips and groans when they finally touch.

JJ lays on your bed and pulls you with him, chin resting on his chest. “Do you ever think about how different our life’s would be if everyone knew about us?” You ask as he massages your head, relaxing you. He hums And looks up onto the ceiling. “I do, and baby believe me when I say I want to go public more then ever.” He begins as he moves and places you onto his lap, pushing your long hair behind your ear and pulling your lip out from underneath your top one. “I wish we can-”

“DUDE COME ON!” Pope yells as John b takes his blunt while driving. “What?” He laughs while smiling at pope. “Guys?” Kiara begins. They all look to their left to see JJ’s dirk bike in a kook’s drive way. Y/N DRIVE WAY. “No fucking way. That can’t be” Kiara says almost sounding jealous. John B And pope look at one another and immediately knew what to say. 

“Maybe it’s not even his. A lot of these kooks like to copy us yuh know?”

“Maybe it’s someone else’s!” Pope joins along for what John B has said. Trying to not get her worked up. “Let’s just go to the wreck, I’m starving” John B says And drives away fast.

-

“So, how about you take me outside And watch me catch a sun tan ?” You smirk knowing JJ loves to see u in your bathing suits and sundresses. “Say no more” he grins and you smile. A little later JJ was chasing you because you had his hat. Bare feet on the fresh cut grass. “JJ wait-” he picks you up and spins you around. “Did I ever tell you how hot your hands are” you smile as he wraps his arms around your waist. John B And pope decided to circle back after dropping Kiara home and see JJ and Y/N almost acting…. In love?

“No fucking way” pope says looking in shocked.

“He did it! That pussy. John B laughs as he watches His best friend look incredibly happy with Y/N. He knows how it feels, he has a Y/N and that’s Sarah for him. He knows how it feels to fall in love with someone who’s forbidden to be with.

[spitinsideme]

so since everyone in the nun x demon au is a nun excluding caine (and whoever is the demon)

what does that mean for the male characters?

I looked it up and it seems nun is a mostly feminine term, what I could find was the terms monk and friar.

help me in going into an autistic spiral I need answers.

the autistic people alwyas making me explain aus i made bwcause i found hot and sexy 💔💔 im giving you more lore i guess .. i rven looked up toles in the church for this

caine is the deacon !! head of the church, the big guy

kinger is likr .. a pope, hes a pope go kinger

pomni and nun are both just nuns

jax and zooble are NOT nuns !!! i decided it now afteri got an ask by someoe sayong they csnt see jax as a man of god and neither can i, also, youre right nun id like a feminine term. jax and zooble are demons !! will you ever see them as demon ? probaly mot, i dont care enough for them to draw them, but theyre demons ljttle devils

ragatha is like the big demon, like she has more poerr than jax and zooble, hierachy in hell idontknow but shes like satan ypuget me ? and jax and zooble are jsut the devils who do her bidding kind of things i think because i want to make her a leader

[pedroscurls]

Third Time’s A Charm (Part 17).

Character(s): Frankie “Catfish” Morales and Reader (female, second person POV)  Summary: Frankie settles his divorce with Victoria, and he asks you a very important question. Word Count: 4,545 Author's Note: I just want to express my gratitude for everyone that has read, commented, and liked this story. Truly, it means so much to me. This story was so very special to me (and my first ever Frankie Morales multi-chaptered story) and I can’t wait to write more of him. We’ve got an epilogue left and this story will come to an end... I’m sad to see it end, but excited to see what other stories I write for this character. (also this is the ring if you wanted to see what it would look like) Warning: smut!!! (truly just very sensual p in v sex)

Frankie was exhausted. Finally, after six months of hell with Victoria and her lawyer, they had finalized their divorce. Frankie no longer wanted to fight with her, settling on allowing her to keep the house and everything else that came with it. He wanted to cut ties with her, to just start fresh in this new chapter of his life, and he didn’t want any reminder of her or the memories they shared. That isn’t to say that Victoria made it easy. In fact, the past six months were brutal with her bringing up the fact that he was an addict who was currently on probation. It hurt; she knew exactly where to dig the knife further and further until he couldn’t take it anymore.

But whenever Frankie wanted to react, wanted to scream and yell and tell Victoria how much of a bitch she was, he held his tongue. He kept quiet, only speaking to his lawyer and addressing Victoria when it was absolutely necessary and he noticed how it angered Victoria when she realized that she wasn’t going to get the reaction out of him like she had planned. That, at least, satisfied Frankie. To know that Victoria was no longer going to win, that she didn’t have any power over him like she used to, and it gave Frankie the confidence to keep showing up, to finalize this divorce so that he could continue on with his life and never have to look back. 

The day the divorce was finalized, Frankie immediately called the guys to tell them the good news. He knew he should have called you first, but he had other plans in mind that required Benny, Will, and Santiago’s help. He climbed into his truck, letting out a relieved breath as he removed his tie and undid a few buttons at the top of his shirt. 

“Congratulations, hermano,” Santiago said over the phone. 

“Thanks, Pope. I feel like a brand new man.” 

Santiago laughed. “So, what’s next?” 

“Can you and the rest of the guys meet me? I’ll text you the address.”

“You’re not going home to celebrate with the missus?” Santiago teased.

Frankie chuckled. “Not yet. I want to do something first and I need your guys’ help.”

“Is it–”

“Just meet me, Pope.” Frankie smiled. He hung up the phone and sent the address to Santiago. Frankie pulled out of the parking spot and began making his way towards a store that you always liked to visit. He had told you months before that he didn’t want to waste anymore time and now that his divorce was finalized, Frankie wanted to make it official. He knew what your answer would be, but he wanted to make it meaningful, wanted to show you how much he truly loved you, and how excited he was to move forward with you as his wife. 

Wife. It brought a smile to his face. You had always been the one that lingered in the back of his mind. The first time you two were together, Frankie was overwhelmed and truthfully fearful about how much he felt for you– he had fallen for you so fast and so hard and he hadn’t ever felt that way before. To this day, he still couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have you in his life. You were so kind, so understanding and with such a big heart that he constantly wondered what good karma he did in his life to deserve you. Of all the things he had done, he never truly felt like he deserved you. 

You were so good and he was just… not. 

But you always made sure to show him just how special he was. You always looked at him with such soft and warm eyes that Frankie never wanted to disappoint you, never wanted to hurt you; he wanted to be a good, and better, man for you. 

He knew that being in a relationship with him wasn’t easy and that dealing with someone like him took a certain kind of patience and empathy, but with you? It was easy. You never put any pressure on him to talk about the things that bothered him, never told him to just get over it… Instead, you constantly reminded him that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d always be by his side, even if it meant that it hurt you. You were his anchor, his light at the end of the tunnel… You kept him grounded and reminded him that while days can be tough, you were still going to stick by his side no matter what, and that always brought him comfort. 

As he pulled up to the jewelry store, he saw Benny, Santiago, and Will leaning against their cars. With a smile on his face, Frankie pulled into the spot next to them and climbed out of his truck. He removed his suit jacket, now clad in just suit pants and a white button-up with the buttons undone at the top and the sleeves folded to his elbows. 

“Fish, congrats, man,” Benny said, pulling him into a hug. “We’re so happy for you.”

“Thanks, Ben,” Frankie smiled, giving the younger man a hug and pulling away. “I want to do this right and I want you guys to be part of it.” 

“We’re gonna get the most perfect ring,” Benny winked. “She’s gonna love it.”

“And we already got her ring size,” Will grinned. 

“You have an idea of what you’re looking for, Fish?” Santiago asked.

Frankie smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got an idea. Let’s head inside.”

Once the four of them stepped inside, one of the workers approached them with a smile. Frankie let out a breath as he looked around the display cases, biting his lower lip. 

“Hi there,” the woman said with a smile. “Is there anything specific you guys are looking for?” 

Frankie looked at her and nodded. “A 1.5 carat oval diamond with an 18k yellow gold band? Maybe with some extra small diamonds on the band too?” 

The woman smiled. “Of course, follow me.” 

“You put a lot of thought into this,” Benny teased. “1.5 carat? 18k yellow gold?” 

Frankie rolled his eyes, followed by laughter from Will and Santiago. “I just want her to have the best.” 

“We’re just teasing,” Santiago laughed. “I mean, we didn’t even come with you the first time around.”

“I didn’t put much thought into that one,” he admitted. “But I want her to look at the ring and just–”

“We get it, Fish,” Will smiled. “She deserves the best of the best. If you know what you’re looking for, it makes this a bit easier.” 

Frankie smiled, watching the jeweler pull out several choice rings to display in front of him. He bit his lower lip, looking at each one intently until one caught his eye. The moment he looked at it, he imagined it sitting on your finger and a broad smile lined his lips.

“That one’s perfect.” 

The woman smiled and gently handed it to Frankie. The guys were all standing near him, looking over his shoulder at the ring that was now in Frankie’s hands. It was delicate, not too over the top, but was flashy enough to show just how beautiful and special it was. It was perfect for you and Frankie nodded to himself.

“That’s– She’s gonna love that one, Fish,” Santiago smiled. 

Will nodded in agreement. “Oh, she’s definitely going to cry.”

“Because of the ring or because Fish is gonna propose?” Benny chuckled.

“Probably all of the above,” Will smiled. 

“Es perfecto, hermano,” Santiago said. 

“I think so too,” Frankie smiled. “Can we get this one?”

“Of course. What’s her size?” 

Frankie looked over at the guys. 

“Six and a half,” Benny said. 

“Do you guys have that right now or would we have to place an order and pick it up at a different time?” Frankie asked. 

“Let me go and check.” 

Once the worker left, Frankie smiled and looked down at the ring. “If they have it in her size, I’m proposing tonight.” 

Santiago grinned. “How are you gonna propose?”

“On one knee?” Frankie replied.

“Okay, smartass,” Benny laughed. 

“I was thinking of taking her to the beach,” Frankie smiled. “Maybe during sunset and then just… Asking her to spend the rest of her life with me.” 

“Always the secret romantic,” Will said with a smile. 

—

Frankie walked into the apartment and saw you in the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of water. He let his eyes rake over your frame, taking note of your casual loungewear of shorts and one of his t-shirts. He smiled to himself; Frankie always loved seeing you in his clothes. 

“Hermosa,” he called out, walking towards you.

You looked up at him and smiled, bringing the glass of water to your lips. “How’d it go, my love?” 

Frankie wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you to him. You set aside your glass and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “I’m divorced. Officially.” 

“So, it’s me and you from now on?”

Frankie nodded. “Last chance to back out.”

You rolled your eyes playfully and leaned up to peck his lips. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me.”

“Oh, you promise?” He grinned. “Because I kind of like the sound of that.”

“Kind of?” you said with a pout.

Frankie let out a quiet chuckle and kissed your forehead. “Maybe just a bit.” 

“Fine, I’ll take it,” you teased. 

Frankie smiled, pulling back to look down at you. “Look at you, wearing my shirt.”

“Mmm, I like wearing your clothes.”

“I like seeing you in my clothes, hermosa.”

You bit your lower lip, bringing your hands to rest on his chest. You tilted your head and leaned up on your toes to place a soft kiss on his lips. “Keep that up and we’re gonna have to go into the bedroom.”

Frankie grinned against you, his hands resting on your waist. “Can I take you out first? To celebrate?” 

“You sure you don’t wanna stay in?” You asked, pulling back from him. “I don’t mind–”

“How about we grab some burgers and head to the beach?”

Your eyes lit up and a broad smile lined your lips. “And watch the sunset?” you asked.

Frankie nodded. “It’s been a while since we’ve done that and I figured–”

“Yes,” you interrupted. “Absolutely, yes.”

“Let me get out of these clothes and then we can head out.” Frankie placed a gentle kiss on your forehead before pulling away from you. “Can you wear this though?” 

“What? Shorts and your shirt?” 

Frankie nodded with a smile. “Please?” 

“Only because you asked so nicely,” you chuckled. “And because it’s comfy.” 

“I’ll bring a sweater for you in case you get cold too.”

“You just want me in all your clothes, huh?”

Frankie laughed. “I’d very much prefer you without any clothes, but–”

“Okay, get ready or else we’ll never leave.” you said with a smile, gently pushing him for him to turn around and make his way to the bedroom. 

While Frankie was changing into much more comfortable clothes, you let out a relieved breath. You had seen how the effect this divorce had on Frankie; some days were rougher than others, but only because Victoria made it a point to make it difficult for him. You could see that he was constantly in thought, especially on days where he would come home quiet and to himself. Part of you had wanted to confront Victoria and tell her to grow up and deal with this like an adult, but you decided that she was just a waste of time and she wasn’t worthy of yours. 

You had gotten a job a month after losing the one at the university. You were working at a community college, teaching literature to students who were only there for a general ed requirement. It was different and nothing like what you were used to when you were working at the university, but you were still grateful for the opportunity to have a job, still teaching a subject that you loved. It also helped that you had Frankie to come home to every day. 

You were excited, hopeful for your future with Frankie. It finally felt like all the pieces were coming together, that now you both had the chance to be with each other like you were supposed to be. Frankie always gave you butterflies, no matter what he was doing, and whenever he looked at you, you always felt your heart skip a beat. You knew that he was the man you were meant to be with, the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with, and it felt good knowing that you now had the opportunity to be with him, forever. He had practically implied that he was going to marry you and while he hadn’t proposed yet, it still excited you to know that it was going to happen at any moment. 

With your back facing the hallway, you gasped when you felt Frankie gently smack your backside. You turned around and looked up at him, biting your lower lip almost instantly at the sight of him. He was wearing a denim button-up shirt with the sleeves folded to his elbows and a dark t-shirt underneath with a pair of jeans, and as always, he was wearing his Standard Heating Oil hat. He smiled at you mischievously and wrapped an arm around your waist to bring you flush against him.

“You slap me again and I’m taking you to the bedroom,” you warned.

Frankie ran his tongue across his lower lip and winked. “Don’t tempt me with a good time.” 

You smiled, moving your hands to his shoulders. “How about we get some food, watch the sunset, and then come back home for some–”

“Fun?” he grinned.

“Exactly,” you smiled, pecking his lips. “I love you.”

Frankie smiled. “I love you too, hermosa. Let’s go.” 

—

You were both now sitting on the sand with a hamburger in each of your hands. The sun hadn’t yet begun to set, so you both were leaning against each other, taking a bite of your food. You always felt like the beach was a place where you and Frankie went to when the reality of life became too much; the beach and the sunset always managed to keep you both grounded, to remind you both to slow down and breathe. 

“I can’t finish my food,” you said with a sigh. “It’s too much.”

Frankie chuckled, finishing his food and taking your burger in his hands. “It’s a good thing I’m here then, aren’t I?” 

“It’s why I keep you around,” you teased. 

“And here I thought you kept me around because you love me, hermosa.”

“Eh, maybe just a little bit.” you grinned, looking over at him. Frankie chuckled and took a couple of bites of your burger before wrapping it back up to put back in the bag. He wrapped his arm around you, feeling you lean against his side as the sun slowly began to set. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing the crown of your head. “For sticking by me, hermosa.”

You looked up at him and smiled, pecking his lips. “I told you I’d always be here and I never break my promises.” 

Frankie smiled to himself. The sun was beginning to set and was casting a perfect glow around you and Frankie felt like he had fallen in love all over again. He used his free hand to rest over his pocket, feeling the velvet box inside before he stood up, taking you with him. 

“Dance with me?” Frankie asked, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Always,” you smiled. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, swaying side to side with him to the sounds of waves and distant laughter. You were looking deeply into his eyes, biting your lower lip as you leaned up to peck his lips. “I’m just so happy…”

“Me too, hermosa,” he whispered, leaning down to rest his forehead against yours. “It’s always been you… And I’m sorry that it’s taken this long.” 

“The things that happened, were meant to happen,” you replied. “Because at the end of it all, we found our way back to each other.” 

Frankie let out a contented sigh. “I was so hesitant when Santiago told me he was setting me up,” he said with a quiet chuckle. “I fought him on it for weeks, but we both know how persistent he can be…”

You listened, biting your lower lip as your bodies continued to sway with one another. “Oh, I know it,” you giggled. 

“But when I saw you for the first time…” Frankie smiled. “I knew I was done for. Your big eyes looked at me in a way that no one ever had before,” he admitted. “You looked at me like I mattered… That no matter what I had done in my life preceding you, it didn’t define me.”

You felt tears stinging your eyes, staring up at him. “I was so nervous,” you smiled. “You were so handsome and I thought you were way out of my league.”

Frankie rolled his eyes playfully. “You’re the one out of my league, hermosa.” He pecked your lips softly and continued. “Pope knew exactly what he was doing when he set us up,” Frankie chuckled. “Because he knew, before the both of us, that we were meant to be with each other. You’re my other half, hermosa. I’ve told you plenty of times that you make me want to be a better man and I mean every single word.” 

You bit your lower lip as you both stopped swaying, still just holding each other and taking comfort in being in each other’s arms. 

“And I told you that I don’t want to waste any more time…” he began, pulling away to grab the box from his pocket before he knelt down on one knee. Frankie had removed his hat and looked up at you, seeing the smile lining your lips as you wiped at your eyes. 

“Frankie…” 

“I can’t imagine my life without you. I’m not going to promise that it’s going to be easy, but I will promise that I’ll be by your side no matter what. I promise to fight for us, no matter how hard it gets. From the moment we met, it was always you.” Frankie then opened the velvet box to reveal the engagement ring he had chosen with the guys earlier that day. 

“I love you so much, hermosa. I want to spend the rest of my life with you… I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning and the last thing I see when I go to sleep. I want to continue to laugh with you, to cry, to make more memories with you…”

You gasped at the ring, the sun hitting it just right to cast a twinkle against the diamond. 

“Yes!” you said immediately. “Yes, yes.” Tears were falling from your eyes as you wiped them away with a quiet chuckle. 

“I didn’t ask yet,” Frankie smiled. 

“Oh–”

“Will you marry me, hermosa?” he interrupted, staring up at you with those deep brown eyes that you had fallen in love with all those years ago. 

“Yes, yes, yes,” you repeated, kneeling down in front of him and wrapping your arms around his shoulders to press your lips against his. Immediately, you moved your lips with his, smiling against him. Frankie had to pull away enough to take your left hand once he took the ring from the box. He looked down at your hand and slowly slid the ring onto your ring finger, smiling instantly. 

“Perfect fit,” he whispered. 

“I love you,” you said, pecking his lips. You looked down at the ring and smiled to yourself, tears still trickling down your cheeks. It was a yellow gold band with several small diamonds with an oval diamond on topic, sparkling against the setting sun. “It’s so beautiful, Frankie.”

“You like it?” he asked, biting his lower lip. 

“I love it, but you know me… I would’ve been happy with anything.” 

Frankie smiled, pecking your lips softly before he stood up with you. “I know, but you deserve something as beautiful as you and the minute I saw this ring, I knew it belonged to you.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you whispered. 

“Funny you should say that,” Frankie said quietly, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Because I feel the same way and…” he whispered, “I think you saved me, hermosa.” 

You bit your lower lip, shaking your head. “You saved yourself, Frankie,” you whispered, running your hands along his arms. “I was just here so you didn’t lose your way.” 

Frankie sighed contentedly, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re my dream come true, hermosa. You have no idea how much I love you…”

“Oh, I’ve got some idea,” you teased, lifting your hand to show him the ring. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Frankie.”

“Let’s go home and celebrate?” he winked, wiggling his brows together. 

“Yes, please,” you grinned. 

—

Once back at the apartment, Frankie was quick to lead you down the hall and towards the bedroom. His hands were on your waist, peppering kisses along your neck as he pressed himself against you. You leaned back against him, resting your head against his chest to expose more of your neck for him. 

You couldn’t believe it. It still felt so surreal to know that you were now Frankie’s fiancée and you couldn’t wait to just spend the rest of your life with him. Your best memories were with Frankie and despite all of the challenges you both faced, you were just so happy to finally get another chance with him. 

Frankie’s hands moving underneath your shirt brought you out of your thoughts, feeling his rough fingertips graze upwards to brush his thumbs against each nipple. You arched your back against him, biting your lower lip at the sensation.

“You weren’t wearing a bra?” he whispered against you. 

“I never do whenever I wear your shirts,” you replied, letting out a quiet whimper. 

“Fuck me,” Frankie groaned, turning you around and slowly lifting the shirt over your head to reveal your bare front. Frankie licked his lips at the sight of you, gently backing you towards the mattress. Once you felt the edge of the bed hit your knees, you fell back onto it with Frankie climbing on top of you. 

Frankie moved his hands to your shorts, gently pulling them down your legs until you were now completely naked below him. He pulled back enough to let his eyes take you in, growling at the sight as he stood to undo his pants, kicking them off to the side. Frankie pulled off his denim button up, followed by shirt until he was clad in only his boxers. His manhood was pressing against the thin fabric and he brought a hand down to squeeze himself, his eyes focused solely on you. 

“Get over here,” you whispered, parting your legs. 

Frankie licked his lips, watching as your spread legs exposed your sex. He pushed down his boxers, letting out a quiet breath at the relieved pressure before he climbed back on the bed, settling himself between your legs. Frankie couldn’t wait; he didn’t want to take his time like he normally did. Instead, he just wanted to revel in the feel of you wrapped around him. 

“Frankie, please,” you whimpered, feeling the head of his member brush against your opening.

He smiled, grasping his member and slowly pushing past your folds. Frankie kept his eyes on you, watching as you let out a quiet moan. He saw you move your hands to his chest, his eyes catching a glint of your ring and he smiled to himself, pushing further into you as your tight and warm walls wrapped around his manhood like a vice.

“Fuck, hermosa,” Frankie whispered, his hands resting at either side of your head. Slowly, he pulled his hips back only to push back into you, continuing the slow thrusts. 

“Frankie,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist. His slow movements were just as effective as his rough and fast thrusts, but this felt more intimate. Your eyes were locked onto his, the sounds of your moans mixing in with his as the feel of his member continued to slide in and out of your depths. 

He lowered himself to rest his forehead against yours, lips brushing against you ever so slightly as his movements picked up. Frankie always loved to hear the sounds of your moans, the way his name escaped your lips; he took pride in knowing that he knew how to make you feel good and now he was going to get to do it for the rest of his life. 

“I love you,” he whispered against you, moving both hands to grip your hips as his own drove into you repeatedly. 

“Oh god, Frankie,” you moaned as your eyes fell shut at the feeling of getting closer and closer to your climax. Frankie just knew exactly what to say and what to do to get you to the edge of your orgasm and this time was no different. Your bodies moved in tandem with one another, breaths against each other’s lips, moans escaping quietly. “I love you too,” you whispered back, your fingernails digging into his skin at his upper back. 

Frankie groaned against you, pecking your lips lightly before he buried his face against the crook of your neck, rolling his hips against yours. His fingertips dug into your hips as he felt your walls slowly begin to tighten even further around his manhood, throbbing against you. He knew you were close, so he gently nipped at your skin along the side of your neck as he pulled out to his tip only to slam into you. He repeated this motion several times, the sound of skin slapping against one another beginning to echo off the four walls of the bedroom. 

“Frankie!” you moaned loudly, tightening your legs around his hips to keep him still as you reached your high. 

Frankie let out a moan, feeling your walls milk his manhood to his own release. He pulled back enough to look down at you, gripping your hips as he began to quicken his own movements. He watched as your body bounced against his own with his rapid thrusts, becoming more erratic. 

“Fuck,” he growled. “Fuck, hermosa,” he moaned, slamming into you once more as he released in your depths. His body shook slightly and he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. 

You smiled to yourself, running your fingertips lightly along your back, brushing against the scratches you left. Frankie shuddered against you and pulled back to peck your lips, looking deeply into your eyes. 

“You and me forever?” you asked with hopeful eyes. 

Frankie brought a hand to brush his thumb across your cheek and whispered quietly, said quietly, “Forever, hermosa.”

---

Epilogue.

Taglist: @harriedandharassed, @tanzthompson, @casa-boiardi. @bitchwitch1981. @painitemoondust, @pedritosdarling, @vanemando15, @kittenlittle24​, @gracie7209​, @your-voice-is-mellifluous​, @mikeyswifie

[isawken]

Damn I would also love to be assigned a American state in place of my Australian one! (Y'all's state name are sick honestly.)

hell yes let's go!! i bequeath unto you, the great state of...

here's some 'tucky fun facts!

-kentucky is home to Mammoth Cave system, which is the longest in the whole earth, which is fucking insane. this shit is 83 sq miles/214 sq km!!! i'm terrified by the thought!!!

-in addition to the natural holes, we got manmade ones too. kentucky is prime coal minin' country. any and all mentions of coal and/or mining must elicit a deep sorrow from your soul

-kentucky has a super varied history of indigenous peoples but the most well-known are the Shawnee, Osage, Chickasaw, and Cherokee. there was apparently a rumor that native peoples never lived in kentucky, just used it as a hunting ground, but that's been proven to be false. there's been settlements here for over 10K years!

-i hope you like bourbon cus baby, it's alllll over here. one of my favorite drinks of all time is basil hayden, but maker's mark is fine too. if you ever get the chance to indulge in genuine small batch or home made moonshine that's even better

-the guy who is the logo of KFC did just straight up look like that. like that is a 1:1 of what that dude's appearance was. KFC is fine, but be sure to get visibly irritated if someone expresses that yeah, they've totally had real 'tucky fried chicken, but then admit it was just from KFC

-i'm sorry, but you have to get into bluegrass, at least a little. if you wanna ease into the country/bg genre in general, start with hometown boy tyler childers. if you wanna get into the thick, check out other hometown boy roscoe holcomb.

-eastern kentucky is lucky enough to be situated in Appalachia, which is essentially just what we call a chunk of the appalachian mountain range! you may know this mountain range as being older than literal bones. the appalachians are sacred. the appalachians are deep and dark and thick and they will love you, but just keep that head o yours on a swivel

-bigfoot has been sighted in kentucky (as with most US states) but the real MVPs imo are the hopkinsville goblins. also the pope lick monster. mostly just cus the name let's be real here

-you want to eat a hot brown. everyone wants to eat a hot brown. do not question why it's called a hot brown. just enjoy. the hot brown

and here's your complimentary badge and "_____ MENTIONED" meme!

[backtothefanfiction]

All The Good Girls Go To Hell | TF!Boys Mafia AU ~ Part TWO

Summary: Phoenix has one last night of freedom before she is forced to go to work for her dad. What better way to spend it than a night on the town? Maybe taking home one of the guys she knows will only wind up Pope... or hopefully get her closer to bedding the man himself?

Warnings: 18+ Only, (Mature Content), Dark Mafia Romance Au, broken family, unhinged female rage, AFAB, OFC, Mixed POV, objectification of the female body, drug and alcohol used, smut, bondage, dom!reader, oral (m!recieving)

Word Count: 5.2k+

A/N: I am sorry this took so long to get done and posted. I also know I could have gone further into things at the end of this chapter but it felt like it ended there for me and it'll give us a place to start in chapter three. Once again we are gonna jump around to a few different character's perspectives. As always if you enjoy please give feedback and reblog, it means a lot. Also I'm posting this without doing a final proofread so may still contain some errors, but hopefully not. Enjoy!

TWO

PHOENIX

I haven’t been back in this room for years. Although I was bounced around boarding schools since I was 12, I still came home for the holidays and most weekends- my bedroom becoming a shrine to all the things I loved as a teenage girl. Hunky male actors (who we’re definitely way too old for me) cover my walls. All the half page and sometimes double spread posters from the centerfolds of my favorite magazines. Whatever space lay between was covered in doodles- made by sharpies- in an ever decreasing interest in becoming an artist.

My en-suite cupboards are filled with a plethora of half used bottles of crazy color, that are sat tempting me in my post break up adrenaline. They are probably long past their best before date and not that effective. At least that’s what I tell myself as I’m getting out the old tupperware pots still waiting under the desk and begin dumping out colors. I’ve only really got enough pink and blue to do half my head, so decide to split my hair in half straight down the middle and do a half and half ombré with the two colors a la Harley Quinn. But when my eyes fall on the toxic neon yellow shade, I know I have to find a way to work it in too. So instead of taking the pink and blue right down to the very ends of my hair, I decide to put the yellow on there instead. 

I’m sat on top of my old hand-me-down four poster bed, reading one of the old teen magazines (that have been kept in a box under my bed all these years) whilst my hair develops, when my Dad finally comes up to find me.

“What in hell’s name have you done to your head?” He says, stopping short in the doorway when he takes in the sight of me.

“What can I say? I was bored.” I say bluntly, barely looking up from between the glossy pages of the magazine.

“Give me that.” He says, stepping forward and snatching it out of my hands.

“Hey- I was reading that!” I protest, but he cuts me off.

“You’re 26 Phoenix, it’s time you start acting like it.”

I genuinely look at him shocked. After all these years he’s finally decided to grow a backbone and discipline me. “Woooow.” I begin to sass him when I spot  Ez over my Father’s shoulder, encouraging me to stop.

“Enjoy your last night of freedom Phoenix, because come tomorrow night you’re going to work with Archie.” my old man continues.

My attention snaps back to him so fast I almost give myself whiplash. “What!”

“Don’t give me that shit. You’re back living under my roof, you pay your way like everyone else in this house.”

“What, even Marina?” I snark, knowing she’s never done a single day’s work in years.

“Yes, actually.” my Dad retorts, “She helps me with the books.”

“Yeah, I bet she does.” I roll my eyes.

“Look, you don’t like it- maybe you shouldn’t have set fire to your life all over again. Jesus!” He turns on his heels, growing exasperated with me. “Your shift starts at 7 tomorrow. You can get a ride with Archie.” my Dad barks before he storms out the room without shutting the door behind him.

“I told you, you’ve really done it this time.” Ez chastises me from the open doorway.

“Oh shut up.” I say, getting up from the bed and slamming the door in his face.

I want to scream the word ‘FUCK’ for the whole house to hear, but I don’t want to give them the satisfaction. Only I would get cheated on and then punished for it. 

My fingers instead rub at my eyes. ‘Fuck this shit,’ I think to myself, storming over to my closet. I fling the doors open and survey what I have to work with. Most of it is from when I was 17 and near anorexic. It takes a few passes back and forth between items before I decide on a couple of items and choose to get a little crafty with them.

An hour later I’ve washed out my hair and styled it, throwing on a full face of makeup- complete with glitter and a dark lip- I now don an outfit made up of two spliced shirts, the front an old silver sequin shirt I’ve cut into a square and then fixed to the straps of a black spaghetti strap top. It hangs low enough to just about cover my pleather hotpants covered ass. My bra and tits are almost completely on display, but it’s just the bait I need to not have to buy a single drink tonight. Given that my Dad runs Medusa’s as well, I won’t even have to pay to get in.

I shove on a pair of bejeweled silver ankle boots to match the makeshift dress I’ve scraped together and throw on my old faithful leather jacket- once an oversized fit, that now fits perfectly- and I’m ready to go.

“Hey, give me a lift down to the club.” I say, knocking on Deano’s door frame two rooms down.

He barely looks away from his TV where he’s in the middle of a racing game. His fingers, glued to the controller in his hand, twiddle the joists and the tires from the car on the screen, screech through the sound system he has hooked up. “What’s in it for me?” 

“I’ll finally introduce you to Lucy.”

“How do you know she’ll be there?”

“It’s a Friday night. She’ll be there.”

“Phe, you haven’t been down to Medusa’s for years,” there’s a beep from the TV as he pauses the game to finally look at me, “how are you so sure- Dad is gonna kill you before he lets you go out dressed like that.” he says.

“Well I wasn’t planning on giving him a fashion show before we left.” I sigh, crossing my arms and legs, leaning my body against the door frame. “Besides, he’s the one who said this was my last night of freedom and I don’t plan on spending it sitting on my bed in my joggers 

watching reruns of the old house wives.”

“Fine.” he sighs, rubbing at his face, “But you’re messaging Lucy to make sure she’s gonna be there.” He points at me.

“Doing it now.” I say, reaching into my jacket pocket for my phone and typing out a hasty message to my old partner in crime. “Get dressed.” I bark at him.

“So bossy.” 

“Yep. And don’t you forget it.”

FRANKIE

Although most of the people in the clubbing business are in their 40s and 50s, the actual clubbing lifestyle is not suited for anyone over 35. Unless you are a woman in your 40s that is. (You’ll be surprised at the amount of middle aged Mom’s who band together and make a big deal about going out at least once a month, so that they can hold on to some semblance of themselves and their youth- especially if they have kids.)

No. If I had it my way, I would definitely not be spending my Friday night at a club full of sweaty twenty something year olds, all scantily clad or greasy and sleazy, trying to make a pass at anything else that walks or even just looks too long in their direction.  I can’t say the same about Benny though- but he is and always has been the baby of our little quartet. The man still hasn’t yet hit 40, so this ideally is still his game; and out of all of the clubs we’ve bought over the last few years, Medusa’s is without a doubt his favorite.  Marble stone statues dotted about the place, a large spray painted mural of the lady herself, complete with 3D gold fiberglass snakes that protrude from her head and red lights in her eyes. 

It’s also where most of the rich kids in town come to spend their money, so it always turns a pretty profit; not just from the booze, but also the amount of drugs that are bought and exchanged in the toilets. All of it our gear of course. 

Even when we aren’t dropping by for an inspection, Ben will still opt to spend most of his nights here sampling the merchandise, before taking home the prettiest young thing in a skirt he can find at the end of the night. That poor creature will then wake up at the penthouse the following morning and attempt to slip out before anyone else notices her. Unfortunately though, I’m an early riser and usually already sat having my morning coffee in the kitchen in my t-shirt and underwear, so a clean and easy get away very rarely happens.

We’ve barely made it through the door for the evening when he’s already eyeing up some girl dancing around a pole on top of one of the platforms. She’s barely wearing any clothes and has pink and blue hair, definitely Benny’s type. He’s always been fond of something a little more reckless and different- like him. He’s practically salivating as he comes to a stop to stare at her across the top of a couple of booths.

“Don’t even think about it.” Pope’s serious voice cuts through Benny’s thoughts. It has us all looking then.

Pope has never been one to make a comment or cock block any of us for that matter. He’s always said, what we do in our own time is none of his business; but the mere sight of this chick has him growing tight. 

Benny looks like he’s about to protest, his hands rising into the air to indicate back to the chick in a ‘oh come on, how can you say no to that’ kind of way- and I don’t really blame him; this chick’s even got my eyes lingering to places they shouldn’t. But Pope’s face remains firm. “I’m serious Ben, you don’t want to touch that,” he says. “And that goes for all of you.” He adds quickly, seeing the way both William and myself also seem to be taking her in. Because it’s true, she really is like nothing else here. The way she’s dressed, her colorful hair, her confidence- it’s magnetic. 

She sways her hips more, a naughty smile on her face. She knows we’re looking. But her eyes don’t linger on us. They linger on Pope. 

“You know each other?” I ask, observing the obvious.

“She’s David’s kid.” He states as if he’s already exhausted by her. By us. By this whole conversation.

“The fire starter?” Will chimes in. He seems to be eyeing her up with a whole new kind of appreciation now.

“Fire starter?” Benny’s ears prick up and he begins to bounce on the balls of his feet, palms rubbing together as if he’s gearing up for a competition.

“I told you Ben, hands off.” Pope says again. “Now come on. We’ve got work to do.” He says and continues to walk towards the back of the club to a raised seating area that’s reserved only for us.

“Yeah, yeah.” Benny sasses back to him, but leans into me, nudging my shoulder with his as he says, “what’s he gonna do?” He nods in David’s daughter's direction, before giving me a mischievous smirk.

PHOENIX

In all fairness, this so-called ‘last night of freedom’ was turning into a bit of a dud until they walked in. There was no real entertainment. It was boring. Predictable.

Lucy was indeed at the club as predicted, flanked by a couple of nobody guys already hovering around her like mosquitoes, despite the fact she didn’t seem to give a single one of them the time of day. My brother of course quickly joined their ranks. No- she was far more focused on doing blow at the table with her “girls” (I’d never met them before… couldn’t even remember their names), but I joined nonetheless. After all, Lucy was loaded. 

She worked as one of those so-called “influencers”. She was constantly charging companies upwards of 10 grand a post, claiming it was such hard work to take a picture and write the perfect caption for her 1 million followers who only followed her for her looks, not her substance- of which she had very little.

So I made small talk, bumped a couple of lines and downed the complimentary bottles of bubbly that kept being brought to her booth and over all, tried to block out the mind numbing monotony of the whole situation. I only started dancing on the table to give myself something to do- but then my new buddy and his friends walked in. Gods he was more handsome and mysterious under the cover of night- and his friends weren’t bad looking either. 

They all wore some version of an all black uniform; casual suits with half open button downs, black T-shirts and leather jackets. I didn’t know which one I wanted to sink my newly single teeth into first, because let’s face it, I’d happily fuck each and every one of them… maybe even twice… or maybe even more than one of them at the same time.

It’s clear the biggest guy wants me too, the way he stands staring, his tongue practically lolling out of his mouth as he salivates, his eyes taking me in like I’m already his favorite meal and he can’t wait to chow down. No doubt he’d take me for the ride of my life, if I let him, but it’d be too easy. I love a challenge and the way Pope has his eyes on me, I really can’t resist. 

As he ushers them to move on, taking the lead as they make their way towards a VIP booth up a couple steps over to the far left of the DJ booth, giving them the perfect view to survey their goods, my mind begins to whir as quickly as my limbs swing around the pole in my hands. I watch tentatively from a distance, taking mental notes of every little thing he does. The way he runs his hands back through his tight curls when he becomes stressed. The way he struggles to relax, always sitting further forward, reaching for his phone or something on the table, or if that fails, fiddling with the buttons of his open blazer as his fist rests against his hip.

He’s uptight that’s for sure. Typical business type who likes to be in control and run the show. If I’m gonna wear him down, it’s gonna take time and not just on the side lines working in this club, but I have to penetrate his inner circle. As I slump back down next to Lucy in the booth, I slowly realize what I have to do. It’s just like in the olden days, if you wanted to bed the King, you had to get yourself in with someone lower down in his court and work your way up- and I knew just who to start with.

BENNY

I knew Pope had said no, but when had that ever stopped me before? He knew what I was like. Knew I’d rather act now and enjoy myself and deal with the consequences later. Besides, it didn’t matter whose kid she was, if she was in here, she was clearly legal and the way she’s been eyeing me up since we sat down, clearly meant she wants this too. She’s firmly placing herself down on the table- and damn- if that isn’t that most appealing slice of cherry pie I have ever seen.

Actually scratch that, she looks like the embodiment of one of those slushies you can get down at the 7/11 and all the guys know the blue raspberry, cherry mix is my favorite.

“Yo! Ben!” My brother snaps his fingers in front of my eyes, breaking me once again from my fixation and fantasies. “Brother, have you been listening to a word Pope just said?”

“Yeah, of course.” I bristle, but in all honesty, I haven’t got a fucking clue.

“Oh really. Go on then,” he presses me, as Pope and Frankie stand and begin to leave the booth, making their way over to the bar, “tell me what he just said.”

“Something about going and checking in with the team leader that’s on tonight to check about sales or something.” I murmur my reply.

“Lucky guess.” My brother says, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, why did you call her the fire starter?” I turn and ask him. He’s got that look on his face and struggles to meet my eyes, because he knows it’s a bad idea to answer my question and supply me with no doubt deadly information, but he also knows I’ll just keep asking or find it even more of an intriguing game if he doesn’t.

“She set fire to her school.” He finally says, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a stick of gum, unwrapping it and placing it in his mouth. I’ve never understood his obsession with the stuff, but then again, I’ve never understood why he’s such a neat freak either. And to be honest, given my brother's near compulsive need to always have minty fresh breath (despite the fact I know he ain’t been kissing no girls in a long time- not since Kylie broke up with him) I’d probably place my bets on the two things being linked. “Oh and she set her fiancé’s bed on fire when she found him in bed with another girl. Or should I say ex-fiancé now.” Will continued as he chewed down on his gum.

His words had my eyes growing wide. “No, Ben, don’t even think about it.” He chastises me.

“What?” I say indignantly. “How do you know what I was thinking?” I ask him.

“Because I know you. You’re probably wondering what it’s gonna take for her to set you on fire.” I can’t help the small grunt that escapes me as I cross my arms and spread my legs, sitting myself back in the booth. “Yeah- exactly.” My brother says with his know it all attitude. 

I hate it when he does that. He pretends like he’s all high and mighty, but I know for a fact he checked her out too, when we first arrived. And I know he would definitely hit that if given the chance. No doubt she’d be too much for his uptight ass though. But then again, I think to myself as my eyes glance back across the room to her as she gets back up from her seat to begin dancing and wrapping herself seductively around that pole again, maybe that’s exactly what he needs to loosen him up a bit. But given the way she’s currently eyeballing me, there’s no way I’m letting him tap that before me.

PHOENIX

I take my time as I wait for the rest of them to finish up for the night and leave- knowing all too well that Benny would stay behind. Between drinks, and the odd extra sniff of blow off the back of one of Lucy’s guy friends’ hands, me and my target for the night have been eye fucking each other like it’s a sport. At 1am he approached the bar. At 1:15 a pink and blue bubblegum flavored drink made its way over to me. It didn’t take two guesses to work out who had sent it- but the bartender told me anyway. 

I raised it in his direction, with a polite smile of thanks, before I seductively brought the straw to my lips. I kept eye contact with him as I began to suck it down and he gave me the dirtiest smirk, before he turned his attention back to Pope and the rest of their group. When I flashed a look towards the elder gentleman he quickly turned his eyes back away from me, but unfortunately for him he wasn’t quick enough for me to not see the look of contempt in his eyes. Oh yeah, this was gonna be fun.

It was another hour and a half before the rest of them left. At this point Lucy was too far gone. Half of her mates had disappeared. There was only one other girl left at the table with us who was talking to my brother, whilst two other guys who had been thirsting over Lucy all night, finally seized their moment.

“We’re gonna take her home.” one of them shouted as the other attempted to pull a very inebriated Lucy out of the booth. I thought for sure Deano would protest being the sober one and designated driver, but he was far too wrapped up in the red head sat next to him; who also seemed fairly sober considering the state the rest of our group had been getting in most of the night.

Overall though, I couldn’t care less- I had my eyes on my own prize. 

The tall fair haired man finally began to make his way over to me now his companions had officially left the building. He looked like he could be a boxer… or a football player. As he got closer I noticed his eyes were a piercing baby blue. 

“Benny.” He said, holding his hand out to me.

“Phoenix.” I replied with a smile in the corner of my lips, taking his hand carefully in my own and giving it a shake. I noticed Deano notice him and bristle slightly, it was clear he wanted to say something, but the way Benny turned his eye on him, he quickly lost his nerve.

“Deano.” Benny said, laying on the charm.

My brother swallowed hard. “Benny.” He said a little tightly.

“Here-“ Benny said to Dean, slipping a hand into the inside pocket of his blazer, “why don’t you two go treat yourself to a couple of drinks on me,” he said, pulling out a money clip. He peeled off a couple of bills, handing them over to my brother, before he slipped the money back into his pocket. Deano gave me a small reluctant and protective look, but when he looked back to Benny, he knew not to protest- after all he did work for him and knew not to get on Ben’s bad side.

“Come on, Isla.” He said to the red headed girl beside him, offering her his hand before leading her over to the bar.

As Benny sat himself down next to me in the booth, I couldn’t help but smirk. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Deano that scared of anyone.” 

Ben let out a scoff, “Nahh.” He said, denying the claim with a small wave of his hand. “It’s nothing really. Dean’s a good guy. I fought him once actually.”

My brow furrowed at the piece of information- so he was a boxer. “Really?” I pondered.

“Ehh just a small little work match.” He said, sitting himself back and smoothing out his trousers. “We’ve got this boxing gym down near the docks. Some of the guys like to go down there sometimes, let off a little steam.”

“Does Pope go?”

“Pope?” His brow furrowed slightly, but his tone was one of surprise. “Nahh… nah.” He said, shaking his head. “My brother and Frankie do sometimes, more to support me and just watch, but no- Pope doesn’t really go there. It’s not really his thing.”

I pause for a moment, just to take in the information. “So what does he do to let off steam then? I mean, the man seems pretty uptight.” I say the second part of the sentence lightly, I don’t want Benny thinking I’m only using him for information about his Boss.

“To be honest… I don’t really know.” Ben confides in you. “I mean, I come here and do my boxing, my brother likes his bikes. Frankie likes to take off into the woods and go fishing. But Pope, honestly, I don’t know.” He goes quiet then. He’s contemplative, as if he’s never really put much thought into it before. I shuffle myself slightly next to him and he quickly snaps back out of it though. “What about you?” He turns his head and asks me, his eyes raking over me and lingering over my chest on the way. “What do you like to do to let off steam?”

☆

I’m barely thinking about how I just ditched my brother, leaving him alone at the club without even saying goodbye, as Benny slams my back into the door to the penthouse apartment. His lips have been on mine since the elevator doors closed. When the bell dinged to signal we had reached the top floor, we hadn’t even parted; he hooked his large hands underneath my ass and lifted me up, my legs and arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders and hips as I allowed him to carry me like a literal child to the door.

He propped me against it with his hips as he fumbled in his pockets looking for a key card. “Wait, wait, wait…” he said against my lips as he reluctantly parted from them, “just give me a… second.” He said as he finally located the card and held it to the small black box beside the door. There was a beep and the tiny light went green as the door went click. “There we go.” He muttered to himself, pulling on the door handle and pushing it open before latching his lips back onto mine and taking me inside. 

He carried me over to the kitchen island, where he finally put me down atop the cold marble countertop, parting with me for only a moment so that he could take off his, no doubt expensive, designer blazer and hand it over the back of one of the bar stools at the end of the island. The quick break allowed me to survey the room in the city lights that streamed in through the large floor to ceiling windows that lined the far left wall and wrapped around the side of the stairs at the end of the large open plan living space, that no doubt lead up to the bedrooms.

“Is anyone else home?” I asked breathlessly, as he moved back around the island to nestle himself between my legs, his large palms sliding up and down my bare legs.

He shook his head, a small glint of excitement in his eyes. “No, my brother and Frankie had business to attend to.” He explained, his eyes moving up and down my body, taking me in like I was a meal, as he spoke. “They won’t be back for at least another couple of hours.” As soon as he finished his sentence, he immediately began to attack my lips with his own again. 

It was thrilling to finally kiss another man after being with Freddie for nearly five years, even his Ben’s lips were a little rougher. It was clear already that Benny was all about force; his job, his muscles, the boxing, his kissing- and although in the right person a little force in sex can be a good thing, I knew sex with Benny would no doubt be fast hard and over way too soon before my orgasm had even had a chance to build. But I’d been watching him all night, saw that look in his eye when he first saw me. Noticed the double take he did when his brother no doubt told him who I was and what I’d done. I’d seen that hunger in him grow and I knew what he truly wanted.

I broke my lips from his, feigning the need to take a breather; and to my delight, felt his lips begin to travel down my neck instead, affording me a chance to look over his shoulder towards the dining table right in front of the window and formulate a plan. I slowly began to walk my fingers down his chest, making a path right for his belt. My lips attached themselves to his once more in an attempt to distract as I began to push him back, hopping down from the counter as I walked him slowly backwards towards the table, carefully maneuvering him around it in front of the large window that overlooked the city. I gently hooked my toes around the chair leg at my side, pushing it out from under the table and shifting it to just the right position behind him, all the while my fingers worked to undo his belt. He smiled against my lips with a knowing chuff as I swiftly pulled the belt from the loops, the metal of the buckle jangling in my grasp.

I met his eyes with a devilish look as I pulled away from him, gently nibbling on my lower lip and he grunted slightly in anticipation. However that grunt turned into a small moan as I pushed him back down into the chair and sat myself on top of him. I could already feel how hard he was in his slacks, eager to get inside me. 

He reached his arms around my back as he tried to grind up into my sex, but I shook my head. “Nuh, uh, uh.” I chastised him, reaching behind me for his wrists. At my words, he pouted, but that childlike look of wonder quickly returned to his eyes when I moved his arms behind his back and began to wrap his belt around them, fastening them tightly into place, before I stood up and began to step back from him.

“What ya gonna do fire starter?” Benny asked me teasingly as I began to sway my hips back and forth; looking him up and down, taking in the sight before me.

“Who, me?” I teased as I slowly began to lift up my top to reveal myself to him.

“You gonna set me on fire too?” He asked almost excitedly.

“Maybe… someday.” I said, as I began to slide my shorts down, leaving them in a puddle of fabric on the floor with my top. Now stood only in my underwear and heels, I began to slowly walk towards him again. “But tonight…” I teased as I circled him, my finger dragging across his chest, up across the back of his shoulders and back again. When I was back in front of him I slowly began to drop to my knees before him, my hands sliding up his thighs and back down again as I parted his knees, “-tonight,” I said again, my fingers beginning to inch back up towards the opening of his slack, “I think I’m just gonna blow-” I unbuttoned his trousers, pulling the fabric and forcing the zip open, “your-” I reached my hands in below his waistband and pulled out his cock, it was so hard and thick just the sight of it made me begin to salivate. “Mind.” I finally said as I wrapped my lips around his cock, my tongue swirling around his tip, making him moan loudly into the dark room.

________________________________

Tag List (if you want to be added, you have to tell me in writing)

@casa-boiardi @southernbe @littlenosoul @movievillainess721 @pastawench @littlemisspascal

[daisychainsandbowties]

Soooo... what are your thoughts on a split in the OCS after the events of Season 1? I mean, Ava wasn't super popular in the OCS/those in-the-know since she was "the one who ran away", and Beatrice and Cam essentially went rogue when they helped her escape Crimson at the Cat's Cradle. So why would anyone believe her telling them that Adriel and his story were all a lie, when he himself is there claiming to be an Angel, returned to save humanity? (it's not like they can see the wraith demons at his command)

Duretti (if he doesn't bury his head in the ground) and Superion can support Ava's claims, but it's still the word of a non-believer against the guy centuries worth of their teachings claim is an angel.

It would also make the massacre of the OCS members even more devastating if their numbers had already been whittled down due to divided loyalties, only to have those who remained loyal to the Warrior Nun be slaughtered by double agents who truly believed in Adriel.

(also, felt it was kinda weird when pretty much all the uniformed FBC people were dudes)

(furthermore thinking on how much would've been added if Lilith's family sided with Adriel, and how much that would have influenced her decisions)

god this is so intriguing. when you think about it… the whole Lore of the ocs is based on the angel Adriel giving up his halo to save a dying human woman. if he wants it back… well, who are they to deny him? and thinking on the temptation to have it be over. most of the ocs have watched their friends die, their sisters thrown at the problem of evil until they’re no longer useful cannon-fodder.

god’s angel appears and tells you to put down your sword… damn, maybe that’s what you do.

on the other hand i feel like… probably out of everyone on the planet it’s the ocs sisters who’d have reason to side-eye adriel the hardest. sure, ava’s an unknown, but mother superion? mary? beatrice the golden child of the ocs? of course looking at it a different way what you have is a disgraced ex-halo-bearer, a usurping non-believer, and beatrice who was sent away by duretti & refused to go. sure, duretti is the pope, but individual orders obey the vatican in theory, but in practice things are more complex. and for the ocs, who have always acted as a shadow organisation, the ability to… well… disregard vatican oversight is probably a baked-in thing.

i feel like the split would be extreme. those who want to believe in adriel vs those who are dedicated to the mission: to keep hell the fuck off of earth, keep people safe from the influence of demons.

there’s good reason to be skeptical of adriel’s claims. he was buried under the vatican, the latin on the wall said ‘please don’t touch this ever. let what’s dead rest’ etc etc. seemed like just a thing you might put on a tomb, but the whole 'live specimen inside' thing might give pause. either we believe that st peter gives what the vatican decides legitimacy or we trust an angel as the unilateral word of god. the bible says maybe don’t do that.

ESPECIALLY if they saw footage of Adriel infecting a whole courtyard of bystanders with demons, i think most of the ocs would trust in what duretti & superion told them. god can speak from the mouth of a heretic (ava), and there’s plenty of ammunition in catholic theology for fallen angels/ agents of the devil/ the devil usually comes in disguise.

they know that Bad Shit is leaking in from some hellscape (most of them likely assume it’s captial-letter Hell) and now the long-lost author of their order appears and attacks (apparently kills) mary in broad daylight? they might be devout but they’re also in the know in a way that few people are, and i think the ocs by its nature is insular. i think mostly these girls come for the service to god & stay for each other, die for each other.

a schism is certainly possible (ahem, not unprecedented in christianity) but i think the ocs sisters trust each other. i think the way that mary died might move them. vincent’s betrayal too. does that look like the work of god? again, immense skepticism over any person claiming to be a mouthpiece for god.

BUT i see you about the idea that literally a handful of traitors would be enough. and that feels so plausible as to be almost guaranteed. sisters tired of fighting a battle of attrition with their bodies, ppl like crimson, the ones who just want it to be over. we really only learn that the ocs was compromised (and i’m inclined to think not by vincent because damn guys u would have done the smart thing & called bust on every safe-house vincent knew about, right??)

the idea that the way the ocs tosses spent sisters aside leads to its near-annihilation is… compelling.

& 🫠 lilith’s family turning on the ocs. i mean, they’d be hand-in-hand with lilith there, no? she sides with adriel. really & truly she IS our example of a girl who is all but tossed aside when she’s not useful. lost, alone, feeling monstrous, she turns to adriel because he can bear to look at her.

you’re so right that there’s so much to be said for the ocs as an organisation that literally chews up & spits out its soldiers. it’s a war machine & so despite superion & shannon & mary trying so hard to make it human and caring and good - i mean, the institution is… well… an Institution. it doesn’t have a heart.

& i think that’s what ava brings to it, what she shows them. that

1. you have to try to stop the cycle of violence. you have to at least try.

and 2. making an army out of lost girls is dangerous. like bea, they’ll throw themselves at danger; like lilith, they’ll throw themselves at death.

just… thinking of shannon & her ghost. how angry she is at the whole circus. of mary & her quiet sadness, so long in the making that her sorrow feels worn even when it’s new.

thinking of ava as a thesis in how you really fight back the darkness

by being the light

[obxologies]

Just thoughts: I've read fics, where rafe and the reader are always in a love triangle with either, JJ, John. B, Pope... or even his sister, Sarah, but how would you think he'd fair against Kiara? I mean, she's got her shit together. She's hella attractive. She's passionate about animals and their safety (as well as her friends, bcuz let's be honest, they're always getting into shit). She's everything that he's not and on top of that, a Pogue and because of that, I'd think he'll be pretty gutted, thinking he'd lose, the only good in his life, out to her.

now i wanna write a full fic for this...😏

rafe finally found something stable and constant in his life. he met kook!reader through sarah and she was just so sweet and she cared so much about him. how could he not fall in love? she changed him. she found the good in him and helped him bring it out for everyone to see. he was happy for once. then she meet someone, a pogue. of course, the girl who first stole his sister and pushed her into the life of a pogue was now trying to steal his girl. one of the only people who truly mattered to him. he couldn't let that happen. but she seemed so happy to have found kiara. kiara liked all the same things she did. she never turned her down to dance at a party. she woke up early in the mornings to go help kook!reader walk around the beach and pick up trash. she had things to input into kook!reader's rants about the poor treatment of their planet. she was everything rafe wasn't. how was he possibly supposed to pull her away from her?

kiara couldn't believe kook!reader was real. she was everything kiara wanted. she was beautiful and she was the sweetest person she had ever met in all of her 16 years of living. she was in the middle of scolding people for throwing their trash on the beach when kiara first saw her. she watched her admiring her behavior. oh, she needed to meet her. she frowned when she saw rafe cameron walk up to the girl with an amused smirk. he shook his head and helped her grab the trash thrown onto the ground. what the fuck? oh no. she's rafe's girlfriend? how the hell did someone like rafe cameron manage to get with her? sure maybe she should've backed off when she realized they were dating. and she was going to, really, but she was just too perfect for her. how was she possibly supposed to just let rafe cameron have her?

[halfmoth-halfman]

mother mothie i am asking you very nicely to please pretty please put the writing tools down !! i don’t have enough money to pay for an extra therapy session!!!

on a real note

my god. the whole dynamic between canary and adler ??? perf. perf. down to a tea perfect, my own daddy issues are going crazy. i think it’s very important that it’s adler who reminds canary that she needs to feel this hate, she obviously has loads of issues with him about his parenting but i think it had to be him to remind her she’s a fighter. that she’s an adler and she should kick some ass.

i feel really bad for canary though, adler clearly and very horribly blames canary for her mothers death which clearly was adlers fault 😐 projecting much russel????

graves needs to get slapped, he needs to be put in his place by canary. i want her lovely healed self to stroll into the police station with shepherd there and be like ‘i’m not dead bitch!!’ and get john out of there. but also how does that work????? if johns arrested for her murder, that means that graves has spun the lie that canary’s dead. which she’s clearly not? does that mean he just shot her and left???

coward behaviour icl 😫

i’m so sorry i’m rambling but that was a masterpiece of a chapter; literal art.

you’re feeding us so good mother mothie and it was totally worth waking up at 6am to read after it was published 4am in my time zone 🩷🩷

– 🪼

asdfklsajdf i'm sorry 😂

i think i said this in another ask, but i imagine canary and adler to have a very olivia pope/papa pope from scandal kind of dynamic. i think really it only could've come from adler. he raised her, he knows her best, what makes her tick, how to get under her skin. he's the only one who she would listen to, albeit reluctantly, about getting her revenge. and despite her problems with him, she knows on some level that he's right; she's an adler, and she should be giving everyone hell.

to me, adler is very much a "don't dwell on your problems, figure out how to solve them and move on" kind of guy, and that extends to his wife's death. he needs to keep going and move on, so instead of taking responsibility and mourning properly, he channeled his feelings into blame on his daughter and moved on. he knows it's wrong, but he needed it to be true to be able to keep going.

graves needs to on his knees begging for his life tbh, that man has been nothing but trouble. it'll be interesting to see where canary goes from here, because her not being dead is sure to cause all kinds of chaos and problems but that can be used to her advantage if she plays it smart. having the element of surprise is a pretty big advantage for her.

don't ever apologize for rambling, i love the long messages and all of the theories!!! it's what i'm here for: to feed y'all and give you tons of anxiety ;)

[goldeneyedgirl]

TwiFicmas23 Day 5: Smoke & Mirrors

Good evening!

Tonight is a snippet from an upcoming one-shot, Smoke & Mirrors. It's a canon AU where Alice ended up going South as soon as she wakes up, and ends up being a competing Southern Warlord. It's meant to be a fun little one shot, set around Breaking Dawn, but needs major edits and rewrites, so I thought a snippet from the OG draft might be fun.

I'm half asleep, so I'll bid you all adieu and I hope you enjoy this!

smoke & mirrors.

Here’s the thing about the Southern Wars.

You ended up knowing everyone who lives long enough. Jasper knows Matteo, Carmela, and Rodrigo far better than he’d like to know people he tried to kill for half a century. He knows Lyric from Baja is a chameleon who wefts and weaves herself into whatever army holds the strongest territory; he knows Tomas as someone who really needs to be put down for good but he’s just so likeable everyone ignores his less appealing ‘hobbies’. And Katya who has fought for seventy years yet never actually killed anyone (Matteo is a soft-touch when it comes to Katya, that’s an open secret.)

At any one time, he knows someone who can kill, kidnap, rob, acquire, destroy, or duplicate anything in the known world. He tries to keep most of that close to the vest, preferring for the Cullens not to know that if shit comes to shove, he can have Bella abducted and in a safe house in less than 12 hours without a single trace, let alone anyone linking it to the Cullens. 

Hell, if Carlisle ever wanted a Pope’s skull to adorn his study, he knows a guy. It would cost a pretty penny and probably take the best part of a month, but he could make it happen. The same way he’s gotten more than just Cullen paperwork from Jenks; or that at least sixty percent of the cash he’s allocated annually goes towards helping those same old ‘friends’. 

It should also be noted that ‘friends’ is used ironically - other than Peter or Charlotte, any one of those people would kill him without a second thought if he was no longer useful. He feels the same about them. At a certain point, all the shit they went through and survived created some strange kind of respect and understanding. Veterans on opposing sides of a war. 

(It also needs to be noted that for all of the shit that has rained down on the family since Bella Swan tripped and stumbled into their lives, that he probably could have called in a favour for an extra set of hands. But Peter and Charlotte were unavailable, and calling in that kind of favour set a precedent he hadn’t wanted to deal with at the time, so he’d kept quiet and gotten the job done himself.)

Which is just a fancy way to say that when Irina bursts in and admits she told the fuckin’ Volturi about Renesmee, the Immortal Child, he’s already flipping through his mental Rolodex of assets to get them out of this mess. It’s a more practical option than, say, snapping Irina into bite-sized pieces to give her time to think about her actions. 

This is a problem. A big one. The more he thinks about it, the worse it gets. 

It’s the first public trial that the Volturi has held since the Wars (he was only a few years out of being a newborn, and he barely remembers in it through the haze of bloodlust and irritation, trying to keep the freshest newborns contained and civil as the Kings ruled Helena a dangerous criminal and scorched the entire coven from existence. He remembers Maria being quiet for a few days afterwards, but the specifics of the entire event were lost to him.) 

And that trial was only Caius, Aro, Dimitri, and the Twins. The Cullens’ charges (exposing themselves with the van incident, telling Bella, Edward’s attempt at exposing himself in Volterra, the whole Victoria debacle, waiting more than a year to change Bella, Charlie Swan, and now a hybrid child) were… difficult to challenge. 

The entire court was coming. 

(Sometimes he wonders if his role in this family has become that of the fixer. The one that is constantly bailing out the sinking ship, patching holes, and making sure all arms and legs are inside the proverbial vehicle - St Cloud, Dell Rapids, Senoia… Thirty years of that and, well, he’s getting tired.)

He gets up and disappears when Irina arrives, make-up smeared and emotions pinging off the walls like super balls, even though he knows what’s coming. He can practically sense it now. 

(The thing about the Southern Wars is that, even after you turn your back on it, you never seem to stop fighting some kind of battle.)

//

It’s less than six hours before everyone has to be informed of Irina’s faux pas, and it goes about as well as Jasper expected. 

He sits on the stairs as Edward and Rose and Carlisle argue, Jacob making unhelpful comments as he eats some vile human snack, and Irina looks vaguely ill and he wonders what the fuck Irina was thinking. If she wanted answers, justice, she should have come straight to the Cullens. This wasn’t so much as overkill, as nuking the planet from space after an oil spill. 

(He also wants to know how exactly she left Volterra to warn them. Did Aro dismiss her? Send her? Did she just slip out and hope no one noticed?)

The rot is truly set in with the Volturi; he’s heard Maria’s rants about them, about how power curdles and corrupts. How it becomes less about protection and more about control. And when you have vaults and vaults of money and jewels and artwork and books, you look for something much, much rarer and unique to collect. Something that cannot be bought or stolen. They are no one’s benevolent overlords, no loving fathers of their people - they are a bullet fired wildly into a crowd, striking down the slow, the ignorant, and the vulnerable. 

Very, very rarely do the actually guilty fall. That’s why this is such a bitter pill to swallow, such a disaster - Aro is coming for a trial, with the biggest audience he can find, to cull the Cullens and pick over the carcass. Justice and honesty and truth have no place here. 

(Helena was no criminal. Just trying to salvage a terrible situation her very best. Whomever fed her to the wolves was more of a criminal than Helena ever came close to being. She was nobody’s enemy.)

This is bad, very bad.   

Emmett comes over to him, his normally jovial expression replaced with something that was both tired and solemn.

“This is a mess,” Emmett says, and that’s his brother. Always the diplomat. 

This isn’t a mess. He can clean up messes. 

He offers a nod, and they both look over as Rosalie sends something flying - an ugly ceramic egg the size of a soccer ball that is nobody’s favourite, so the only one who flinches is Jacob. 

“We don’t have many options,” he finally says, and he feels the flutter of Emmett’s hope and relief against him; this is what his brother wants. Jasper’s bailed them out of the last… three of Edward’s debacles, of course the family veteran has an escape hatch already planned and built, a way that they get to keep their heads. 

(He wants to warn Emmett, the eternal optimist that he’s really only flipping names over in his head, working out who will give them the best advantage. Who owes him and who he already owes and who is nearby and who he can get in touch with the fastest. Do they need witnesses or an army or some combination of both?  There are a million balls in the air, even though the answer is right there because he wants to double check and make sure that he hasn’t missed anything - a better choice.)

He heaves a breath and he doesn’t want to do this. 

Of all the old friends he could call on, she’s the name that is right below Maria’s on the list of people he doesn’t want to owe a favour to. Calling her or Maria in right now is the equivalent of hitting the big red self-destruct button. 

But he continues to roll that choice around in his mind and it’s the right choice. She’s the right choice. 

And even if he thinks that a couple of decades in the catacombs of Volterra would teach Edward and Bella to be a hell of a lot less selfish and self-absorbed (and let the kid be raised by someone with a little more life experience, like Rose or Esme), the rest of the family doesn’t deserve to go down with them. Stupidity isn’t a crime. Carlisle’s love for his son isn’t a crime. 

“Let me make a call.”

—

Peter is glad to hear from him right up until Jasper explains why he’s calling - Edward, the child, Irina, the Volturi. 

“Is now a good time to mention that Yuri’s set-up camp permanently?” Peter asks, the strain in his voice obvious. 

No. No it’s absolutely not, but it puts more pieces into place, that maybe the Volturi are looking for more than to simply put the Cullens into their place. Yuri’s little clan of followers that ebbs and flows have transitioned from Hong Kong to Tokyo to Osaka. One of the great smugglers, he’d done deals with Maria for centuries and the fact that Yuri has left his home for America implies many, many things about the Volturi’s reach. 

He wonders if Li Jie is even still in China. If Li Jie has fallen, that would explain a lot. 

(Politics is a dirty word in their world. Carlisle refuses to engage in it, and he understands - sort of. For all their 

“He run into any kind of trouble?” He finally asks. 

“Not that he mentioned. Just said something about American hospitality. Just a heads up - he might need papers or shit. Where do you need me?”

That was Peter - and Charlotte - in a nutshell. There was nothing they wouldn’t drop to help, to swoop in with an extra set of hands. 

“I need you to track someone down for me,” he says, leaning against the wall. “We’ll need you at the trial, but there’s someone who I need to make sure this…” Doesn’t turn into an irreversible shit-show. Remember when Carmela tried to take Baja, Peter? That’s small potatoes compared to what the Cullens have brought down around our ears. We need a hail-Mary, miracle kind of help.

He explains what he needs carefully; what direction he thinks might work the best. He’s going to need to blackmail and bribe Tomas to make an appearance because if it comes to a fight, Tomas will go down with teeth and nails still slashing and take a very pretty pound of flesh with him. 

Peter is silent on the other end of the phone. “Major, you’re asking for a miracle,” he says finally. “No one has heard from her since she fucked off. If she’s still alive, she can’t possibly be in the US anymore. And I can tell you that she’s been written off as dead for decades by almost everyone.”

“I don’t believe that.” He can’t. Both Plan A and Plan B involve her presence, no one ever wielded an army like she did. He needs her insight, he needs her skill, and he needs her reputation. “And neither do you.”

Silence and the sound of someone fumbling at the phone.

“Jasper.” Charlotte’s on the phone now. “Peter’s being dramatic, we can look but we’re going to need…”

“I’ll transfer the cash straight away. We need the fastest possible turn around, Char. We don’t have enough time.”

Charlotte sighs. “We’ll do our best, Major.”

—

It’s two days later when some semblance of… well, not a plan, but a direction is coming together. Tracking down the right people was half the battle, but he was nearly certain that he’d get confirmation today. 

The rest of the family knew he was working on something, some way to get them out of this mess that wouldn’t humiliate Aro, or call into question the validity of the laws as a whole. Carlisle was very clear that they didn’t want some kind of political uprising or rebellion. Just enough time to explain Bella’s pregnancy, confirm that it was entirely unplanned and not some kind of master plan, and part as friends. 

Jasper wasn’t holding out much hope for that last part. 

Gathered around the dining room table - the family’s war room, when such a thing was needed. Jacob was somehow still eating, and Irina had remained in Forks  - she had clearly decided that Carlisle’s brand of ‘I’m not mad, just Disappointed’ was preferential to going back to Alaska, where Tanya and Eleazar would be waiting to rip her a new asshole - proverbially - for going anywhere near Italy. Let alone without even talking to the Cullens before she started throwing around wild accusations. 

It had been a long week that was only going to get longer - which he could see in the tension of the rest of the family.

“The first thing you need to accept is that this isn’t a trial.” His voice is flat and unfriendly. The child is cradled awkwardly in Edward’s arms, holding onto some mercifully silent toy, fixated on it. He absently wonders if drowning it in the bathtub would be a suitable penance to stop Aro in his tracks. 

But the look in Edward’s eyes at that stray thought is enough. And then Jasper wonders, idly, if this devotion and attachment to the child will last; after all, vampires don’t have offspring. They have no instinct for a dependent child - the connection between a vampire and their creator was nothing like that of parent and child (especially an infant), nor was the connection between coven members. There was every chance that any maternal connection to Renesmee that Bella had would fade after her newborn year, and decay the further she left her humanity behind. 

If they survive this, it’ll be an interesting case study, if nothing else. 

“There is every reason to assume that this ‘visit’ is intended to be an execution,” Jasper continues, and Esme flinches. “I can’t predict whether Aro will opt to sentence some of us, or all of us, or what his plan is. But the plan is for someone to die for this. To put us in our place. That is why he’s bringing an audience - to bear witness to our crimes. And before you say it Rose, we’re guilty by association - the fact we didn’t eliminate Bella after the van accident is a crime in Aro’s view.”

Rosalie frowned, and he could taste her worry on the air. 

“Our best course of action is to gather our own witnesses so that the trial is fair,” he continued. “That the baby is not an Immortal Child, but someone who grows and evolves, and therefore can change and learn. And to remind all three of the Kings that Aro was aware of the van accident, Bella’s knowledge of us, and the incident with James when she was in Volterra. We were given permission to continue as we were to minimise notice from the community. We weren’t charged with any crimes then, and it would look… unseemly to retroactively charge us now.”

“So what do we do?” Jacob asks. Irina looks strained, her hands teasing at a piece of ribbon. 

“I have a contact that I will be reaching out to,” he said grimly. “She’ll be an asset if she’s willing to help us and if I can find her - she’ll have contacts to other potential witnesses, insight into this visit from the Volturi, and stand as a completely neutral witness.” 

“And a Southern Warlord,” Edward sounds aghast, and Bella scoops up the child, her hand smoothing down the red curls. “You’re bringing one of them here?”

“You aren’t considering bringing Maria to Forks?” Carlisle asked uneasily. 

“That would be…” Rosalie began, already getting agitated. 

“A slaughter,” Edward finished, and Jasper resisted the urge to roll his eyes at them. As if Maria didn’t have the control to move about the human world; generally, Maria only pulled a ‘Calgary’ when she was trying to make a point. 

“It’s not Maria,” he said through clenched teeth. “I have some old contacts from the South who can assist us. I’ll need to be in Louisiana by Saturday morning to try and convince her.”

Carlisle still looked uneasy but Rosalie had backed off. Edward was still scowling. 

“If you prefer, I can just drown it and hope that buys us some grace?” Jasper said, his tone prickly, and both Bella and Jacob let out sounds of horror - Bella thrusting the baby at Esme to try and approach Jasper with violence in her eyes, but Edward grabbed her before she could get any closer. 

“That was unnecessary,” Esme said disapprovingly, her hand cupping the back of the child’s head. 

“And dramatic,” Edward is gritting his teeth and resisting the urge to punch Jasper himself. 

“I am trying to protect us,” Jasper replied shortly. “I am trying to get us out of this with minimal loss of life. Frankly, I don’t have much hope for Irina or Edward or Bella or … Renesmee, but if there is the slimmest possible chance that I can keep the rest of you alive and free, I will take it.”

Silence. 

“I can get you a flight to New Orleans Friday night,” Rosalie said, and that thread of fear was back. 

“Make it two,” Edward said, releasing Bella. “I’ll come with you."

“No.” Jasper said.

“Jasper, it might be wiser to go in pairs,” Carlisle said. “In these circumstances, I don’t think setting off alone is ideal.”

“No. It’s a bad idea.”

“Yes. You said it yourself - we have to convince her. If I know what she’s thinking, we can use it. And I want to meet our ‘saviour’,” Edward said, sarcasm and irritation pouring off him. 

“She’s not known for playing nice with others, Edward,” Jasper felt tired, as if his brother was being as difficult as he knew how to be on purpose. “And she can sniff out an agenda before you’ve even opened your mouth. If you want someone to accompany me, Emmett’s the best choice.” Emmett wore his emotions on his sleeve, and the most complex agenda his brother had ever had was to replace Rosalie’s ruined Louboutins before she noticed they’d been destroyed. 

Hell, he’d probably befriend her, and that could only help their cause. 

“Edward is the best choice,” Carlisle said reluctantly. “He can give us insight, even if she refuses to help.”

Carlisle’s not wrong and Jasper hates it. She’s going to need delicate handling, and Edward rarely takes advice from anyone who isn’t Carlisle. The absolutely last thing they need is for Edward to make demands or threats and piss her off. Then they’ll be dealing with an angry veteran and the Volturi. 

“Fine.” His tone is enough to let everyone at the table that he is not happy. “But I need to take the lead. Pissing her off with just make more trouble for us. And if we fuck this up, Maria is our next option. And you know Maria will want her pound of flesh if it works out in our favour.”

That is a proper threat, a tangible one that the entire family sans Bella feels the weight of; Irina looks wary and Jacob looks confused.  

“We will follow your lead, Jasper,” Carlisle says finally, with resignation. “Edward will go with you.”

“The rest of you should reach out to any friends we have. Anyone who will witness the trial. No one is obliged to fight on our behalf or even stay - but they can meet Renesmee and see that she isn’t an Immortal Child. That we did not break the laws.” 

He looks at them. “This isn’t so much about Renesmee or Edward and Bella. This is about the Volturi exerting their power. There is no justice in the Volturi, not anymore.”

[kraekat29]

Suburban Legends- Chapter Eleven

A couple days later everyone was in the house, Ruby was helping the twins with their words while JJ laid on the couch, watching her.

Kiara sat up abruptly on the other couch, her laptop nearly tumbling to the ground, gaining the attention of everyone.

It turns out archeologists had finally excavated the cave where John B and Sarah had found El Dorado.

And with that they were back in the g-game, ready to do business with the old man they had met eighteen months ago.

Ruby sat beside JJ on the Pogue, her cheek resting against his bicep, occasionally leaving a kiss on his arm.

“Do we know of anyone who’s ever been over here?” John B asked, everyone shaking their heads no, “I’m sure Sarah does” Pope said, earning a confused look from Sarah.

“Uh no.. you’ve heard about the stories surrounding this place.. about the daughter..” Sarah said, “yeah, I heard she drowned with her baby” JJ said.

“That’s more believable than her being possessed” Ruby countered, nuzzling her cheek against his bicep.

“And then I heard it was all bullshit. Because what?” Pope said, earning a few hums of agreement.

As soon as they docked Ruby felt it, this place had a swarm of dark energy around it, she looked over at Kiara who nodded, confirming that she felt it too.

JJ picked up Ruby and helped her off of the boat, gently setting her on her feet before grabbing her hand, guiding her to the front with him, the two of them leading the group.

She looked around the property as the man led them to the house, the feeling she had was only getting stronger and it made her skin prickle uncomfortably.

Ruby looked back at Sarah who had the same anxious look as her, the two sharing an understanding to bolt the second things got crazy.

JJ maneuvered Ruby behind him as they got onto the front porch, squeezing her hand three times to which she returned.

He raised his hand and used the door knocker to knock on the door, the sound echoing through the eerily quiet atmosphere.

JJ turned around and looked at the group, raising his eyebrow, “maybe nobody’s home?” He said, “maybe we should just go..” Ruby offered, tugging gently on his hand.

He shook his head and knocked again, once more the sound echoing in the quiet, sending a feeling of unease through everyone.

“Yeah I’m with Ruby. Let’s get the hell out of here” Sarah said, “I agree, I don’t like any of this” Kiara added.

JJ quickly shushed everyone as the door opened, a man coming out- Ruby eyed him skeptically, something about him seemed familiar but she couldn’t quite place it.

JJ turned around and gave Ruby a reassuring smile, grabbing her hand and leading them into the house.

God she didn’t have a good feeling about this.