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devnmon · 4 months ago

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Sheriff's Deputy Morgan

pics are mine, do not steal!

Summary: Arthur comes back to camp one day with a shiny new badge on his chest, and you can't take him seriously. Though you tease him constantly, he gets particularly fed up and finally puts you in your place.

Warnings: arthur's a lil mean but rightfully so, doggy style, unprotected piv (not recommended for irl experiences), teasing, creampie, orgasm denial if u squint

a/n: hi friends! i wrote this pretty quickly after starting yet another round of rdr2 and beginning ch3 again. idk what it wad this time that made the damn badge arthur wears so very attractive to me. i couldn’t help myself from making this a piece of absolute filth! if theres repeated dialogue or stuff, its from my very minimal editing. otherwise enjoy <3

wc: 3.2k

You were tired. Exhausted, worn down, and burnt out definitely were more accurate terms, but all your body could feel was drained. From Blackwater, to Horseshoe Overlook, to Clemen's Point. Would the running ever cease?

As the next morning sun rose across the vast lake, the temperature was already heating up by mid-morning. It was an uneventful day of mundane tasks with the other girls, until Dutch and Arthur returned to camp with shiny sheriff badges on their chest. To see those of all things accompany their outfits and not blood and bullet holes for once was indeed a surprise.

"Your cowboy a deputy now, huh?" Tilly began, glancing at you facing his direction.

"Shut up, Tilly. I'm sure that ain’t really what's happenin'..." you responded playfully, huffing a breath and abandoning the laundry you were in the middle of washing. Ms. Grimshaw's voice echoed in your ear the minute she saw you walking off, but your strides took you away from her just in time for you to make it to Arthur's tent.

Observing as he sat on his cot when you neared Arthur's tent, your eyes hadn't deceived you; Arthur was wearing a deputy badge, and that meant Dutch was wearing one too.

"Who in their right mind deputized you fools?" you laughed, catching the blues of the man before you. Arthur met your eye and smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck before standing up and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Well, it is lovely to see you too, darlin'." he drawled, pressing a quick kiss on your cheek. "And that would be the drunken sheriff in Rhodes. Seemed dumb enough, but it was Dutch's idea. So I couldn't exactly say no."

You grasped Arthur's forearms as they wrapped around you, moving you closer to him with that strength of his. The oaky aroma he always possessed surrounded you completely.

"Well, good thing you're not really employed by the government. Then we'd truly have an issue." you chuckled, spotting his chipped front tooth peeking out from between his lips while he smirked.

"Oh, yeah... you wouldn't get away with things that easily now, would ya?" Arthur spoke into your ear as his palms tightened around your waist.

"No, of course we wouldn't..." you replied, recalling the numerous times you'd teased your cowboy and left him high and dry. Your flirtatious quips always settled in a part of him he couldn't control. Arthur spent many evenings much too unsatisfied until he was able to get you alone. Left only with your words clouding his mind and half hard cock, he was more than sensitive once he was able to satisfy himself.

Arthur would have to wait until night fell to take care of his bothersome desires with you. He reckoned it frustrating when all you did was get away with it only because he allowed you to.

He had half the mind to take you where everyone could see and hear, but his pride was too much to bear losing, especially in front of the older members of camp.

“If we wasn’t in the middle of camp with pryin’ eyes and ears, I’d have you bent over an’ full of me already.” He growled, before you pulled him in for a passionate kiss and slipped through his grip to return to your chores.

Arthur has really got to stop letting this happen, scowling to himself as he watched you immerse sensibly back into your chores. He figured the rest of the day would pass by quicker if he did the same.

You knew nothing good came from teasing a man like Arthur to his breaking point, especially when he’s known for being able to take someone down if prompted. There was no question or doubt he was able to do the same to you.

Arthur’s strength is unmatched, he’s able to overpower you easily in most situations. Yet, he’s delicate– sensual and gentle with you. In a way, he let you get away with teasing him many times and was still fervent and carnal when giving you pleasure.

But recently… pushing his limits like this day after day was getting on his nerves. He tried his best to shove those feelings down but you didn’t ease up on him one bit.

Upon chopping wood and tending to the horses for the last hours of daylight, Arthur found himself catching your eye multiple times across camp. Your stares bore into him each time he would spot them, while watching you look away trying to feign innocence. Once he spotted you sitting around the campfire eating dinner, he figured that his opportunity to find a seat next to you for company.

“Well, hi there, darlin’.” Arthur spoke as he sat down, getting particularly close to your hips with his. The gruff sound of his voice was telling enough with the amount of looks he was giving you during the silence as the two of you ate.

“Hello, deputy Morgan.” you teased once again, taking no shame in staring him down while licking your spoon clean. Arthur cleared his throat tellingly, moving himself flush against your side.

“Now who told you to call me that?” he murmured lowly in your ear, a ghost of goosebumps covering the back of your neck.

“I was just doin’ as I’m seein’... Y’got that shiny badge, and you ain’t makin’ much use of it.” you practically whispered back in response.

“Oh.. should I? Be makin’ use of it?” The gruff of Arthur’s voice bewildered your mind, struggling to calm the hunger gnawing at your lower regions.

“Maybe you should… deputy. Before things get out of hand..” you snarked, dragging your eyes up and down his body. By the tone of your voice, Arthur could tell you weren’t done with whatever shenanigans planned. To let you spin a little yarn before taking control back had sincerely been his favorite part of his life with you. For you to play a little game just to get him to give himself over to you, each time overflowing with passion and hunger– he must really be smitten.

Dinnertime flew by, and once the first light of the moon covered the ground, mostly everyone in camp had settled down for the night. After practically gluing himself to the outside of camp to avoid everyone else, Arthur made his way back to his tent. Of course, once he approached, the first thing he saw was you rummaging through his satchel.

“Excuse me, miss?” Arthur spoke, placing his hands on his gunbelt, a typical deputy stance.

“Arthur– it’s not what it looks like…” you began, noting his stature and the way his eyes locked on your figure. His chest hair poked through the unbuttoned part of his shirt, reminding you what type of man you were dealing with– especially with that badge.

“That’s Deputy Morgan to you. Now, why don’t you tell me what you were really doin’ ‘round here.” He took a few steps closer, maintaining such intimidating posture above you.

“Um… I was just lookin’ for a few dollars. Treat myself to a drink or two. Nothin’ big.”

“And you couldn’t have just… asked for the money, huh doll?”

“Thought it would be embarrassing. ’M sorry, deputy..” you chuckled, spinning Arthur’s little spiel along.

“I’m afraid..” he stepped closer, “that ain’t good enough for me, sweetheart.” His natural tobacco and honey scent overloaded your senses, and all you could see, hear, and smell was him.

“Well… is there anythin’ I could do to make it alright? Wouldn’t want to leave one of the sheriff’s finest deputies unsatisfied..” His index finger hooked under your chin, lifting your eyes to catch his, blues darkened in the moonlight.

“Y’can start by makin’ eye contact when you speak to me, darlin’.” Arthur’s husky voice commanded, staring up at him like a deer in headlights.

“Yes, Deputy Morgan. What else can I… do for you?” His eye contact was intense and captivating, the beginning of a smirk making its way onto your lover’s face. Those perfectly imperfect teeth of his shone as they began to show themselves from between his lips.

“Finish what you started, pretty girl.” The other hand on his gunbelt unbuckled it in one motion, tossing it on the ground before undoing the button on his pants.

“Yes, sir, deputy Morgan…” Your genuine attraction to the man above you made your sultry voice that much more intoxicating for Arthur’s ears. He had half the mind to take what he wanted, but he knew you better than that. Plus, he loved your hands on him.

With a quick unzip and yank of his riding pants, Arthur’s length popped out of his undergarments and stood before you. There he stood, red and erect, swollen from being worked up all day long.

“It must be so difficult, walking around with this irritating you actin’ like everything’s alright.” One of your hands wrapped around the base of him, warm and throbbing in your grasp. Arthur growled at your contact and immediately removed your hand from him, and held it above your head before turning you to lay on your stomach.

“Arthur–”

“Hush, girl. You’ve been a pain in my ass all day long. Don’t think I deserve that, now do ya?” You silently shook your head, beginning to breathe heavily at his contact with your skin. That strength of his held both your arms in place, his strength overpowering you without breaking a sweat. Arthur used his other hand to yank your undergarments down your legs, before running his fingers through your folds. He chuckled at how soaked you were without even being touched.

“Feel that? ‘S just for you.”

“What’chu think suckin’ up to me’s gonna do, huh?”

“Nothin’... I just want you… bad.”

“Well if that hasn’t been abundantly clear to me all damn day, miss.” His tip prodded at your entrance teasingly. Arthur could tell you were clearly worked up in advance with the way he slotted himself through your folds with no resistance. Just the temptation to slip inside you in that moment controlled him like the wind to the rain and it took everything in him to resist. The groan of approval he let rumble through his chest and onto your back was enough for you to clench around nothing.

“Look at that. I ain’t even the one been doin’ the teasin’, and you’re a goddamn mess.”

“Believe it or not that damn badge has turned me on more than I can admit, sir…” you choked out, breathing heavily below him.

“I don’t recall giving you permission to speak, darling.”

“You ain’t even got any cuffs… some deputy you are…” you breathed, ending your words with a snark in your tone. Arthur scoffed, pushing into you completely to shut you up, hearing a whimper escape you. The cowboy was ruthless, slotting himself all the way until your pelvis was flush against his. Arthur’s body was hot and muscular against yours, his rugged figure locking you under him.

“What you got to say, huh? With the way y’re layin’ under me, you ain’t gonna be goin’ anywhere anytime soon. Now hush.”

You swallowed upon feeling every inch of him meld to your walls as you adjusted to his size. Out of reflex, you clenched around him, listening to him rummage around and grab something. The top of your head rested against Arthur’s pillow, his hand still restricting both of yours.

You could feel his hand begin to go sweaty until he replaced it with his other, rope in hand.

“Arthur– what’re you doin’?” you asked, squirming underneath him and breathing heavily against the tightness of the rope wrapping around your wrists. Once it was secured not too tightly, he’d tied you to the leg of his side table.

“Told you– ain’t goin’ nowhere. Now…” Arthur’s grip returned to your hips, pulling himself all the way out of you and thrusting back in completely. Every inch slid warm and welcomingly against your walls. “I’m gonna take my time with you, sweetheart. Show you how bad teasin’ someone like me can turn out for ya.”

Arthur sighed with pleasure with his cock twitching inside you, slick leaking out of your entrance. His warm hands caressed your waist desperately, gripping and sinking his fingers into your flesh.

“Mmh… please go faster, Arthur,” you know that pleading at this point would only piss him off more, but there wasn’t much else you could do whilst pinned underneath him.

“Nah, nah. You don’t get t’tell me how to fuck you. You made it very clear you ain’t interested in listenin’ to me when ya kept teasin’ me actin’ like I wouldn’t notice.” He pulls his hips away from yours for a moment, only to push all the way back in a bit harder than last time. You stifle a moan as his tip kisses the exact spot he knows drives you crazy.

One of his hands goes to grab your hair, twisting it around his palm a few times and pulling. Your head jerks upwards, his fullness pushing a bit more against that spongy spot.

“Y’know, it pains me to be like this, cause I ain’t ever seen someone as fine as you. Why you act like a brat all the time, I don’ know.” Arthur punctuated his sentences with movements of his hips– hard and rough into you. There’s something so filthy about the way he’s grunting in your ear while his hips press against yours so passionately.

“Jus’ want your attention, Mister Morgan. Can’t– mmmh… can’t take it when you walk around lookin’ the way you do. Fuck… and that badge– you don’ know what it does t’me.” Arthur’s chest grumbles with a deep chuckle, using his free hand to land a smack on your ass.

“Hm, well look where that’s gotten ya. Dirty girl. Had me all worked up, thinkin’ I’d be showin’ you who’s boss, but ya still got what’cha want.”

Every hard thrust had you clenching around him instinctively and sending you further into absolute bliss.

“You have… oh, right there Arthur–” Your breathy gasps and moans pair quite nicely with the feeling of your tight walls that meld to him every time he’s inside you. He’s not one to be short lived in bed, but the way you’re squeezing so hot around him and relishing in how good he makes you feel– he’s shot closer to release, rhythmic thrusts of his hips stuttering a bit.

“Ya really outdid yourself this time, sweetheart. Makin’ it hard for me to walk around camp without wantin’ to let everyone see what you do to me. But… I prefer this instead, havin’ you all to myself.” Arthur’s heavy breathing revealed how hot he’d been for you as you were for him.

He knows you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and does a damn good job of trying to contain himself. But the minute you start acting needy, he’s putty in your hands. Arthur’s self control goes out the window when your walls squeeze him, as if you could feel any damn better than you already do. Wet and pleading for only him, siphoning his willpower like a siren and never seeming like you’d ever stop having that effect on him.

He pistons himself inside you, hitting your most tender parts and feeling that wave of release curling up over his shoulder.

“Arthur, m’close…” your words come out so slurred that you’re not sure he even understood you. Though when his movements become much slower, when he’s pressing himself deeper into you each time, you know he’s prolonging it. Even if it’s just for a moment, Arthur wants to string you along like you’d done for days on end.

“Breathe, baby, you can hold out for me a little while longer, can’t ya?” Through your continuously stifled sounds, your head nods and somehow his thrusts become even more drawn out. Arthur’s sure he’s never going to see heaven, especially not when he bathes in this type of affection you give him and is hard pressed to say he’d find it anywhere else.

“Wanna come so bad, Arthur… promise I’ll never do it again,” your voice, high pitched and shaky, shot through him like a lightning bolt. Immediately pressing his back against yours, Arthur knows you can’t take any more.

“Prove it, honey. Come on, come for me. Be a good girl…” His fingers find your hardened nipple, pulling and twisting away while burying himself into you.

“Arthur– fuck, I’m gonna–” With his words, you gushed around him, slick painting his thighs like an art piece. Goosebumps coated your skin, walls fluttering with passion. Your release was enough to send him over the edge, hips stuttering with every second that passed.

His gruff voice spews a string of praises together, growling in your ear and losing himself in the pleasure.

So pretty filled up with me…

Fuck, you’re perfect every time.

Such a good girl.

And when he comes inside, paints your walls with his spend, his lips press against your neck fervently, till his breathing steadies again.

“Thank you, thankyouthankyou…” you mumbled, knees collapsing so you lay completely on his cot. Arthur’s weight lifts off your back, pulling himself out of you and pausing to take in the view of you. A bit of him slips out of you and down your leg, and it takes everything in him to not become hard and fuck you again. The sheen of sweat on your thighs glistens in the lantern light, and immediately reaches to untie your wrists, still attached to his bedside table before buttoning his pants back up.

“Here we go, sweetheart. Ya did so well f’me.” A sigh leaves your lungs before turning over to face him. His cheeks are flushed and his forehead is shiny with beads of sweat, but he couldn’t look more perfect in his afterglow.

“‘M sorry I made ya mad… You know I love you,” you drawled, that sweet voice of yours clouding his mind.

“Aw, I love ya too, baby. Sometimes, you just get on my damn nerves… teasin’ me like that ain’t good for a man’s head. ‘Specially not when I’m an honorary deputy of Lemoyne. But you jus’ like how the badge looks on me, don’t ya?” He sat down next to you, pushing a lock of hair out of your face.

“Can’t blame me if I say yes, very much so, Arthur.” Your hand cups his cheek, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

“Well, good thing pretty girls get off easy from the law. Least, that’s what I’ve heard.” Arthur licked his lips, smirking at your blushing reaction. Referencing that damn badge again, the thing that started this whole mess, you giggled.

“Well, I can’t promise to be on my best behavior, but I’d gladly be bossed around by Sheriff Arthur if it meant gettin’ you close to me.” You laid down, holding your hand out for him to join you.

“I’m already as close as can be, darlin’. How could I ever be closer?” His fingers intertwined with you, scooching up next to you while using his arm to pull you against his chest.

“Just like this.” your soft words lingered in the cool air as your eyes closed and the two of you drifted off to sleep. Arthur Morgan was one hell of an honorary deputy.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfic #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x fem!reader #ryesff #devnmonwrites #devnmon writes

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steviebbboi · 3 months ago

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Once Upon A Friendship

Pairing: Childhood Bestie!Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.6k~ guys i obviously have a problem, my fics just keep getting longer and longer and idk how to stop

Rating: Teens and up!

Disclaimer: Well, well, here we are~ submitting this lil ficlet for @witchywithwhiskey's Slasher Summer Writing Challenge using the following prompts: carnival/county fair + forced proximity + "You think that's blood?". & Because I also wanted to engage with our writers community even more cuz <3, -- I'm also submitting this to @the-slumberparty Sundae Bar challenge: Chocolate (secrets will be REVEALED), butter scotch (childhood friends and the feelz is real 🥹), french vanilla (cause forced proximity trope was inevitable for our reader), w/ toppings of chocolate syrup (established relationship), graham crackers (flashback-backstory heavy), and toasted almonds (🫣get ready for some angst).

Summary: Growing up together, you and Steve were inseparable. Where did it all go wrong?

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't cuteeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: Minors just be mindful that this has mentions of teenage sexual activity but not explicit (all age appropriate) but adding my warning below just in case, explicit language in few pieces of dialogue, ANGST with a happy ending, childhood besties to enemies/strangers, bucky, wanda, and nat are your besties too, steve is a shit communicator, both steve and reader are young and a bit naive, cheesiness ensues, fluff, work is not beta'd so any grammar mistake is my bad!!

*Any comments/reblogs are much appreciated and are so encouraging - more than you know. Pls don't hesitate to interact with me <3

“Argh, Wanda, no– I told you, I hate these things!” You whined despondently while grabbing at her arm.

“Look, you only have to go straight in and see it all the way through! It’s not like there’s any detours.” Wanda replied while giving you a deadpan look.

You returned the look with your own mocking face, “Wan, you know that isn’t the reason why I hate these things! They grab at you and try to scare you.” You shivered at the thought of one of the maze actors dragging you away somewhere where you couldn’t be found.

“Well…that is their job, y’know?” Wanda said, holding her chin in mock thought. You scoffed and shoved her playfully while she giggled at you.

“Plus, it’s so hot out! It’s probably so stuffy in there, especially if we go in with a random group.” You complained while attempting to fan yourself while holding your hair up off your neck. This summer was brutal, you couldn’t believe that anyone would be at the carnival fair today. But alas, everyone seems to want to enjoy the last throes of summer.

“We won’t go in with a random group - Nat said that they’re going to meet up with us before we go in.” Wanda said distractedly while taking out her phone, assuming that she was going to be checking in with Natasha.

Your brain took a second to process what she just said before you froze, your mouth agape, “Wait, ‘th-they’re’? Don’t tell me…”

Wanda stood ramrod still as if lightning just struck. The finger that was twirling her own hair froze its mindless motions as she stared at her phone unblinkingly as she realized her mistake.

“Argh, Wanda!” You hissed out and covered your face with both of your hands in genuine despair.

Wanda held a guilt-ridden expression, “Oh no, I’m so sorry, chip – I completely forgot that he would be coming-- honest!”

You released a heavy sigh and closed your eyes to mentally prepare yourself for dealing with the person that you despised the most in this world.

Steve Rogers. The bane of your existence.

Well, not really (-ish).

He also happened to be a guy that you have been crushing on since you were 10 years old.

Did he know this? No. But even if he did, you would be the last person on Earth that he would pick. How do you know this, do you ask?

You and Steve knew each other since you were basically in diapers. Alongside Bucky and Nat, the four of you grew up together. Although, that didn’t stop you from drawing the short end of the stick when dealing with your pre-pubescent teen years.

You were a late bloomer– while Nat developed boobs and became a natural flirt at 13 years of age, you were still dealing with the bullies at 13 years old whilst trying to navigate hormones, underdeveloped boobs and pre-teen acne. Bucky quickly developed a barely there mustache and a smirk that made all of the other girls swoon (though, you were convinced that it was really just for Natasha instead). And Steve…well, Steve was like you. Underdeveloped, skinny, no hair to be found on his face. He was as tall as you, and dealt with the bullies way worse off than you ever had to do.

But that didn’t stop you from falling in love with Steve Rogers.

Steve was one of your best friends. He always looked after you, whether it were mean girls coming to pick on you again or making sure that you got lunch together. You walked home together, stayed at each other’s houses to study or play video games. You developed a routine where one day in a week, you would order a chocolate chip milkshake while he got a vanilla whip at your local diner, and stayed there for hours just talking about your common interests together. Steve gave you your nickname, ‘chip,’ since he constantly made fun of the fact that you got the same milkshake everytime.

You also remember when the both of you decided to be each other’s first kiss. It was awkward and weirdly coordinated, but it was nice and you trusted each other. You both laughed afterwards and hugged, swearing to each other your friendship was still intact. When your parents would make playful jokes or tease you about when you and Steve were going to be a couple, you blushed and would shy away.

Where Steve was, you were there too.

You were basically inseparable as you both knew that you two were the underdogs of the group. Bucky and Nat quickly became the ‘It’ power couple as you all entered into highschool. Steve and you were the glue to your little gang and it just felt so nice to not be alone.

Thankfully, you were able to grow more into yourself by the time that you were 16 years old. Your skin cleared up a bit as you learned to develop a skin care routine, and your boobs started to actually look like there were two of them. Though, you never could quite get past the social isolations (despite the fact that your two best friends were the hottest and the most popular kids at school).

And while you changed a little bit, Steve…well– Steve changed alot. It was like one day he just woke up and became the guy that he was always meant to be. He started developing a build and grew a beard, had a huge growth spurt and joined the football team. He became strong and capable of anything. But, he was still Steve. He continued fighting for the ‘little guy’ even though he became on par with Bucky and Nat’s social class at school.

Unfortunately, with Steve’s new social status came the one thing that you couldn’t compete with: Sharon Carter.

Captain of the cheerleading team, it was almost natural for Steve and her to become a couple. You remembered the day that Steve and you hung out after school for your regular milkshake when he told you quietly that Sharon asked him out to the junior year annual dance. He blushed beautifully as he told his best friend the news, and you made sure to plaster on a fake smile and told him that you were happy for him.

After he took you home, you did your homework, took a shower– and as you got into bed, you cried yourself to sleep feeling utterly alone for the first time in your life.

Things changed after that. Steve couldn’t walk you home because he was walking Sharon home. He couldn’t play video games with you at yours because he was at Sharon’s. Then, he started canceling your daily milkshake hang outs.

“I’m sorry, Chip- I have practice to get to.”

“Sharon mentioned that she needed my help today. I’ll see you next week.”

But next week came and went, and still no Steve.

You quickly realized that Steve was blowing you off when you caught him making out with Sharon at the library in school when he told you the day before that he was going to be at football practice.

You didn’t mean to catch him at all - but you heard noises and glanced over to see him and Sharon behind the well-known ‘hook up’ section of the library. You squeaked in surprise since they were only half clothed, Steve with his shirt off and Sharon in only her bra. As you stood there shocked, you caught Steve’s widened eyes as they both turned to look at you. Sharon was pretty annoyed that you interrupted them (clocking her narrowed glare), but Steve at least had the decency to look embarrassed as they both put their clothes back on.

The shock of catching him in the act wasn’t as surprising (as much as it broke your heart, you knew that people in relationships would typically take it to that level fairly quickly). What was surprising was Steve’s reaction. You thought that maybe he would apologize for lying to you, or for blowing you off as many times as he did. But instead, he cleared his throat and his eyes became more stern as he didn’t say a word. He took Sharon’s hand in his and left.

You remembered standing there for another 5 minutes until you saw another couple glare at you as they took Steve and Sharon’s space. You didn’t even get what you came for– you walked straight home, crying, despondent over losing your best friend. (It was the movie scene where the side character gets discarded and cries silently in the rain - you felt so pathetic).

From that point forward, you didn’t bother texting Steve anymore. And he didn’t ever attempt to text you. He ignored you in the hallways and you didn’t ever look up at him when you would pass each other either.

Throughout all this, Nat and Bucky were there for you when you came to them about what happened and your waning friendship with Steve. Nat was pissed while Bucky looked confused as to how your friendship could change so quickly. Even though they were still close with Steve too, Nat and Bucky made sure to include you more during their hangouts or offer to take you home, which you felt grateful for, but it didn’t change the fact they had each other. And that you were still alone.

College was your wake up call to move on from Steve Rogers. You applied to universities that were all out of state, intentionally left your decision last minute so that no one could talk you out of it. Your parents didn’t approve but ultimately respected your decision.

You remembered graduation where all of your parents made you take a group photo on the bleachers. Nat and Bucky were on the higher step as you and Steve took the lower one. It was awkward as you two barely looked at each other, and fumbled on where to place your hands. It was Bucky who eventually groaned exasperatedly and placed your hand on Steve’s back while he placed his around your waist.

You recall the moment that really ended things between you and Steve, which was a party at one of Bucky's friends’ places. Nat and Bucky invited you to come in order to have your ‘last high school experience’ (whatever that meant). Unbeknownst to them, you were leaving the next day for settling in your new university halfway across the world.

The party was blasting obnoxious EDM and the house was littered with red solo cups and other kids yelling at each other as they played beer pong. Feeling so displaced, you took a beer and headed upstairs to look for an empty room.

Just your luck, you would enter the one that had Sharon (again, half-naked) on top of Steve (who was again, also shirtless) on the bed. You obviously interrupted them in the middle of something again. As they both turned to look at you, Sharon groaned your name in annoyance with an ‘ugh, seriously?!” and for you to ‘‘get out.’’ You couldn’t help but ignore her as you looked at Steve once more.

He had this same look of annoyance in his eyes as he sat up on the bed that was so unfamiliar. You’ve never seen Steve look at you like that before– as if you were a nuisance or some sort of insignificant thing. It was the same look that he gave you at the library. He became the bully that he used to protect you from when you were kids.

Something took over you in that moment where you felt your already fragile heart just shatter into several pieces. Though, somehow, all traces of self-pity and loneliness left your body as you coldly looked over at this stranger that you realized you maybe never really knew in the first place. In that moment, you tuned out Sharon’s nasty words, and only looked at Steve with an intentional, apathetic glint in your eyes.

The words just slipped out before you could even process them:

“I wish that I had never met you.”

You could mutedly hear Sharon scoff and give some sort of insult (you couldn’t really remember honestly) since the only thing that you waited for, and wanted to notice, was Steve’s reaction. You watched as the traces of annoyance in his eyes glazed out and changed into something that looked akin to shock, panic and something else that you couldn’t place.

Satisfied with finally being able to impact him for once, and to let him know how much you hated him in that moment, you turned to leave determinedly– you were pretty sure that you heard him yell out your name before you left but you slammed the door hard, ran down the stairs, and out of the house until you made the trek home.

You told yourself that night, as angry tears fell out onto your pillow in your childhood bedroom, that you would move on from Steve Rogers. That you deserved more and that you were going to make space for yourself in your own way.

As you settled into your new apartment, met Wanda as your new roommate (and now your certified best friend), you received a call from Nat and a text from Bucky.

Natasha was, naturally, upset at you for leaving without telling her. She made you promise to never do that again and to come to her more when you needed her. You felt one piece of your heart pull together again at how sincere and emotional Nat was on the phone. You realized that you may have also neglected your best friend when you and Steve were close, and promised her on the phone to never let that happen again.

Bucky sent a text saying, “Dude, what the fuck,” which is pretty polite for him, considering the context. You apologized and explained to him your desire to build your own life and while he was still mad at you, he expressed his understanding and respect for your decision.

Bucky and your relationship was never very close like Steve’s and his was, but he always looked after you (in his own way). You felt protected by Bucky in ways that you couldn’t with anyone else, and you knew that he would always ultimately support you as he would his younger sister. He told you to text him if anyone were to bother you, and you promised that you would check in with him daily.

You did receive one text from Steve: “I’m sorry for everything, chip.” That was all he wrote.

You glared at your phone and deleted his text, so overwhelmed with your anger and determination to remove Steve Rogers from your life. It seemed as if your lack of response was enough for him to get the message that you were done since he didn’t text you since that day.

At Uni, you really grew and developed into yourself. You became involved in college campus life, got a job as a TA, had a boyfriend or two. You dated one guy for six months before calling it off since you were better off as friends, and any other flings that you’ve had were short-lived or just didn’t land well enough to be in a committed relationship.

But you learned alot from these relationships and ultimately felt grateful to connect with people as you proved to yourself that you were something without the people back home. That you were more than the girl who loved Steve Rogers. You were proud of yourself for that.

Flashforward to now, you’ve just finished your freshman year of college. You’re visiting home for the summer to visit your parents, and to visit Bucky and Natasha, both of them ultimately decided to attend one of the local colleges. You kept your promise with them and stayed close, and even brought Wanda back with you– since introducing her to them last week, she became fast friends with your childhood friends.

You haven’t really spoken to Steve since that last stint in high school. Considering that your two best friends were still close with him too, and your families were all close, you couldn’t exactly avoid him. But you never talked about what happened in highschool. At the chance that you would see and interact with each other, you would greet him politely even though there was still some animosity there.

Steve wasn’t outwardly mean or rude, and he would try to talk with you more than once before in the past year, but you were evasive everytime in avoiding anything deeper than a “hello, how are you doing?.” You would stuff down the guilt from his disappointed and hurt expressions as you actively avoided him. You brushed off your friends who were begging you to try to repair your friendship with Steve– and just go back to school, blissfully living in ignorance.

But now, as you stood in line awkwardly waiting for the Summer Queens County Fair’s haunted corn maze with Steve (your friends suddenly “needing” to get some drinks or go to the bathroom while Steve and you waited for tickets in line), you felt like you wanted to pass away from the how thick the tension filled the air.

You could practically feel Steve’s tense energy in attempting to engage you in conversation. And damn him, he looked good. His muscles looked even fuller as they were accentuated by a basic white tee, and his beard- argh, his beard- only made his features even more rugged and handsome.

You hated the way that he could still make your heart flutter, even after all this time had passed.

“So,” you almost jumped when he finally broke the silence. “How have you been, chip?”

You felt yourself take a minute to defrost your stiff and frozen body as you turned to look at him. You met his curious gaze and said blatantly, “I’ve been okay.”

Silence filled the space again as your bluntness seemed to envelop the air around you. “Uh, that’s good. Are you…–how are you finding your classes?”

You looked back at him with narrowed eyes and just felt a rush of frustration move through you seeing his eager expression, that puppy dog look that always made you feel empathy for him suddenly made you feel annoyed and impassive.

“We don’t have to do this, Steve.” You said to him bluntly while crossing your arms defensively.

Steve’s own eyes narrowed in confusion and he swallowed heavily. He seemed to be thrown off by your comment. “I’m just trying to get to know you again, chip–”

“Well, I don’t want you to get to know me, Steve, okay?!” You interrupted him as your voice raised before lowering in the latter half.

Looking up at him, you met his eyes for the third time that night, but what you didn’t expect to see was that he looked so crestfallen and sad.

The guilt that has built up over the past few years swooped in and rested heavily in your chest. Instantly regretting your outburst, you sighed, “Look, I just think that we may be better off just not talking to each other, okay. We don’t have to try to be friends again just because our friends forced us to finally interact with each other since highschool.”

Steve winced at your cutting words, and he still had this sadness on his face as he looked down at his feet before he said quietly, “I’m not trying to…–I just…it’s been a long time, chip. The last time that I saw you, with Sharon and with what you said, I–,” you both winced in that quick rehash of the incident. Steve finished with a weary sigh, “Honestly, I just miss you.”

You frowned when listening to his words as the sincerity behind it felt displaced, and out of nowhere. You also couldn't help but feel concerned as you really looked at him. Outwardly, Steve looked as put together as he usually did. But people weren’t used to seeing him the way that you had growing up.

Looking closer, his eyes weren’t as bright as they could be, and they looked tired. Slight dark circles were forming underneath his dim eyes, shading his fully bearded face that was just a tad unkempt. He looked like he hadn’t been sleeping well and his shoulders had a hunch to them that could be perceived as calmness when you knew that it more resembled a tiredness or despondence.

Your frown was still on your face as you elected to ignore his declaration of missing you and simply asked, “Are you okay, Stevie?”

At your question, Steve noticeably straightened up and his mouth parted in surprise that reflected in his eyes. You both stood there for a moment as you stared at him with concern and him looking at you with…mirth? With your lips pursed, you glanced at him with narrowed eyes at seeing the humor alight in his eyes, brightening them a bit more towards its familiar shade of cerulean blue.

“Okay, what just happened?” You asked suspiciously.

Steve’s eyes brightened more and the grin that was growing on his face grew even larger into a soft smile. “You called me Stevie.”

You lurched back a bit as you replayed the moment briefly in your head and stuttered a bit at the realization. You hadn’t meant to call him that at all, but when you saw that sad look on his face and the signs of it on his body, you couldn’t help but recall moments similar to when you were just kids, walking home, checking in with each other during similar moments, but experiencing these things together.

“Uh- I– I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you–,” You blushed and stuttered as you tried and failed at attempting to save your slip.

“No,” Steve interrupted you, his smile wilting a little bit. “Please, don’t apologize for that. I,– I miss us when we were just kids. Nobody calls me that anymore, well, beyond Nat and Buck, of course.” He said sheepishly while running his hand through his hair, disheveling it even more into a natural, annoyingly perfect quaff.

You gave him an assented hum and cleared your throat as you looked back down at your feet, giving the flattened grass an invisible kick. You both were quiet again but the awkward animosity wasn’t as present as it was before. You both shifted on your feet a bit more before glancing up at each other from time to time, barely missing each others’ eyes before finally, your gazes met each other at the right time.

He was looking at you differently– this time with that good-natured smile and levity in his eyes that glinted at you with that same ‘something else’ that you couldn’t quite put a finger on a year ago.

His small grin was reluctantly infectious as you felt your lips start to curve upwards as a response.

“Whatever.” You rolled your eyes trying to stuff down your smile as you replied with a cheap response. Memories surfaced again of your witty banter that you used to share that always started with Steve’s little smile, and you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh as you opened them again to meet his own humorous gaze.

Steve’s soft smile grew into a teasing smirk, “That’s good, at least I got a smile and a laugh from you before you start to avoid me again.”

You only gave him an incredulous look at how blatantly out of pocket that sounded before letting out a sudden, full belly-laugh with him. You couldn’t believe that you were laughing again with Steve Rogers.

You felt this feeling again too - it wasn’t heartbreak, but rather, the shattered pieces that were shoddily put together again throughout the years felt solidified just a little bit more.

The laughs died down and the both of you remained standing there with genuine grins on your face. Before you lost your nerve, you felt a sudden urge to have him listen to you, to hear you, and to understand what really happened between you two.

“Steve–,”

“Chip, I–”

You both looked at each other and laughed for a moment before he indicated for you to go first. His grin looked so boyish and sincere, you couldn’t help but smile back at him as you two were just high school kids in Brooklyn again. Comfortable and authentic, together.

About to open your mouth, you get interrupted again by the person that you least expected to see on your visit back home.

“Chip? Steve? Oh my gosh, is that you two? Wow, chip! Look at you, you certainly grew into yourself!” Sharon’s pitched voice pierced the mutual bubble that was starting to form between you and Steve and flattened its existence.

You gave her a quick glance over and were internally surprised to see that she seemed to be exactly the same. Her eyeliner framed her hazel brown eyes that were widened in what looked like surprise, and with a hint of condescension (cause why wouldn’t she look down upon you with all of that pity). Her blonde hair resting softly down her back as she stood there in her floral skirt, her friends right behind her glancing over at you and Steve disinterestedly.

You stood there and gave her a fake shoddy grin as you greeted her back politely. “Sharon, wow, hi.” Your monotonous tone couldn’t be covered up in time before the words left your mouth.

She only gave you a dull hum before she glanced over at Steve with a smirk. “Hi Steve, how are you?”

The curious part of you couldn’t help but try to catch Steve’s reaction to her presence. You had no idea where things left with them since you left that day, and you never bothered to ask your friends either. Assessing him, he was looking at her with a nonchalant expression, and you were unsure of how deliberate his reaction was as he made small talk with her.

Trying to gauge his expression, there wasn’t any sadness present in his eyes anymore, nor was there any mirth. But, you did notice a stiffness there. The corner of his eyes crinkled a little too harshly as he forced a polite smile onto his face. You could see his jaw clench as Sharon droned on about her college experience.

Time couldn’t erase the fact that you did know Steve Rogers for some time– and when he was uncomfortable, he wasn't able to hide it at all.

The theatrical tunes of the fair and the echoes of people screaming in mirth and laughter suddenly came back in as you hear the booth employee for the haunted corn maze (this line was way too long for what it was worth) call for you and Steve to step on up.

You couldn’t stifle the quiet mutter under your breath, “thank god” as a wave of relief flooded through your body at being able to escape the dangers that you just experienced as you turned around to follow the employee to the front of the maze. You didn’t even say bye to Sharon, and you didn’t even realize that your friends hadn’t returned from their supposed tasks.

Your mutter may have been louder than you thought as you heard a snort from beside you. Glancing over, Steve was looking down at you with a returned humor that you just rolled your eyes at him. “Well, it’s not like you wanted to be there anymore than I did. Your tells are still exactly the same, Stevie.” You said derisively.

Ignoring the harshness of your tone, Steve only smiled more as you slipped boundaries again. You only caught it when you saw that he was simply just staring at you in response. Only then did you catch it and you rolled your eyes again with a small smile. His smile grew more as he intentionally leaned and walked into your path as you both followed the employee. You stumbled to your left at his deliberate clumsiness and shoved him away from you playfully before you could stop yourself.

You’re teasing around with Steve Rogers. And reluctantly admitting, you weren’t unhappy about it.

You both continued to shove each other away as Steve kept teasing you until you reached the front of the maze. The employee turned to face you before you went inside to explain the rules and you were listening attentively until you heard a throat clear from behind you. Looking back, you see that it's Sharon and her friends.

Trying to, but unsuccessfully, cover your agape mouth at seeing that they were actually following behind you this entire time, you clenched your jaw with annoyance and turned to face forward again.

The despair that you felt come in earlier from Steve’s arrival has returned tenfold with Sharon’s presence. Paired with the fact that you’re being forced to have entered a haunted corn maze, your hackles rise angrily at the fact that you’re being forced into a situation with both Steve and Sharon that you didn’t even wanna be a witness to, AGAIN.

Feeling suddenly so tired and exhausted, you let out a despondent sigh, “Okay, are we doing this or what?” The employee merely raised their eyebrows before motioning you to move forward in the maze.

You could feel Steve’s eyes following you as he tried to walk next to you, but you could hear Sharon trying to engage with him again. You could hear him respond but you didn't really care anymore. You didn't mean to be rude, but you were feeling resentful of all of it again. Especially hearing Sharon’s whiny voice trying to speak with Steve right directly behind you, you once again felt utterly alone.

Torches and string lights lit up the corn maze. Although, the night sky was void of any lights or stars, which made the maze really feel like a maze– isolated and desolate. You could hear Sharon’s two friends in the back muttering that they were scared as they let out occasional, little screams at any sounds that could be heard (even if it was just the wind grazing the corn harshly, or honestly, the sounds of their own footsteps, ha.)

Feeling so bored and wanting to leave, you turned around to just go back when you saw Sharon holding on to Steve’s arm with a worried look on her face.

You were passing by some rows of hay with a sticky red substance spilling all over it when you heard Sharon’s small screech.

“Omg, you think that’s blood?,” She said with a genuinely worried tone.

You wanted to laugh so bad as you looked over at Steve, just in time to see the rolling of his eyes and heavy sigh. She seemed to be grasping onto him with an even tighter grip and although Steve wasn’t shaking her off, he did have that uncomfortable look on his face again.

His second aggravated sigh and furrowed brows gave away his annoyance as he attempted to subtly create some space between his body and her touch. You turned forward again as the laughter erupted in your throat, but you managed to stifle it in time with a pursed smile on your face at hearing Sharon’s affronted noise in response.

You could read a mean girl from far away at this point – Sharon’s attitude wasn’t lost on you nor was her sudden closeness with Steve. But it didn’t bother you as much as you thought it would, even if you found out that they were still together after high school. Honestly, a part of you felt satisfied that Steve, the one responsible for the existing tension between you in the first place, was finally just as uncomfortable as you were. To see Sharon offended and to see Steve’s discomfort made you feel a sense of justice and a resurged faith in good ol’ karma.

That pride you felt in being able to find your own comfort in your healing made you feel giddy. You weren’t in any sense of a relationship that held any drama. It felt good to know that the forced proximity didn’t just affect you at this moment. Yeah, sucks to suck, doesn’t it?

You flinched a few times as you continued walking throughout the maze with some actors coming out to scare you, but as you saw the glaring red Exit sign, you couldn’t wait to get outta there. Speed walking at this point, you were determined to walk out of this maze with your gaze forward, determined to not look back at the two sore points of the past few years.

You made it to the exit and sighed in relief. You were already a few paces away when you heard Steve call for you.

“Wait, chip! –”

The body is a wonder - your mind was so fixated on leaving but when you heard him call out for you, your mind flashed to the both of you waiting in line, flashed to the sounds of your laughter mixing together, the feeling of him leaning into you. You didn’t want to but, suddenly, your feet just stopped in place and you turned around to look over at him. Hope swelled in your chest…

And there was Steve. And Sharon. Kissing.

You inhaled deeply at the sight, not expecting to have caught them, yet again, mid-kiss. The tension knotting in your stomach finally exploded, and your stomach dropped making your feet feel so heavy. It was like watching a car crash happening in front of you - you felt fixated and couldn’t move, turn away. The hope that was swelling in your chest evaporated like mist, and you felt so foolish. The pieces that were somehow lodged together again from your earlier interaction broke into pieces, and felt grinded into dust. The wind took its opportune moment to breeze through your hair, and it almost felt like it intentionally took your longing for your best friend again with it.

Steve gripped Sharon’s arms harshly, shoving her away from him with an angry expression on his face. “Sharon, what the hell?!” He exclaimed. Turning away from Sharon and her pouted expression, his widened eyes frantically found yours.

Even a few feet away, the panic that you saw in them was familiar. You remember seeing it exactly when you had severed the existing relationship between you and Steve that night.

You couldn’t help your reactiveness– you were feeling so triggered by what you were witnessing. Your vision started to get blurry as you felt that familiar burning sensation building in your eyes. The panic in Steve’s eyes intensified at the sight, and when he made a move to step forward, your feet instinctively took one step back.

Completing the reenacted memory, you felt your mouth press into a hardened line as you met his gaze with a ferocious determination. Familiar numbness rose up and a lethargic apathy just washed over you. You bravely met his gaze and although the words weren’t being said, you and Steve both heard the words.

“I wish that I had never met you.”

The truth was, the anger and rage that you were feeling (and let’s be honest, the resentment that you suppressed and just gaslit yourself into reframing it as healing) was just the surface. Underneath, a deep and hollow feeling of just being unwanted and undesirable bubbled up with a vengeance. You didn’t wanna hear it, but you were tired, were abandoned by your friend(s), and energy depleted from tonight’s event. You knew you couldn’t be there any longer.

Your feet continued to step back slowly as you heard Steve asking for you to please wait - but then Sharon took his arm again needily and you took that as your opportunity to bolt.

You dropped your teary-eyed gaze away from his almost desperate looking one, mumbled out a quick excuse and left with a brisk nod. It was just like when you were 17 again, you heard Steve call out your name again but you don’t stop to look. You didn’t see him staring after you so longingly and looking so dejected, nor did you see him blatantly remove his arm from Sharon’s grip again while they hushed out intense looking whispers at each other.

The parking lot of the carnival was in sight as you wiped away the bitter tears from your face. You knew that leaving was immature of you, and you knew that you would disappoint your friends. You knew that you were breaking your promises to Nat and Bucky (and now Wanda) about talking with them before making any impulsive decisions.

You reached your old pick-up and opened the door harshly. The tears wouldn’t stop as you stood outside the car. Almost child-like, your hands curled into fists as you brought them to your eyes and just sobbed.

For a moment there, you thought that maybe…maybe you could start again. Maybe you and Steve could rekindle your friendship, or at least, talk things through. You thought that maybe you’d be able to continue laughing again. You shook your head, feeling so much pity for yourself.

Heaving out another wilted sigh, you closed your eyes and tilted your head back to allow the fresh winded air to dry your tears upon your chilled face. You needed time to think, and you knew exactly where you wanted to go, and what you needed.

The sweetness of the chocolate shavings melted in your mouth, leaving only the sugary taste behind. You took another sip of your milkshake and made sure to swipe some whipped cream from the top for an extra sweet finish.

The diner was mostly empty, spare a truck driver or two sitting by the bar tops. You mindlessly stir your milkshake some more with the plastic straw and couldn’t help but relieve another sigh from your body. You came to the diner for nostalgia’s sake, and a chocolate chip milkshake was always a huge dopamine boost for whenever you were feeling sad.

But this time, getting your favorite milkshake at the diner left more of a sour taste in your mouth as each sip just reminded you of Steve.

You decided that you would try to bring yourself to feeling better before you left for home, which meant drinking your milkshake, making small talk with Betty (the sweet, old waitress who has been giving you milkshakes for free since you were a teenager), and settling the grievances that you could actually fix.

You instantly texted Wanda to let you know that you had left the carnival, and that you hoped that she was having fun going to the bathroom for the past hour. Instantly receiving an apologetic text back for ditching you with Steve, you figured it was as good a time as any to also let her know that she would have to ride back with Bucky and Nat (given the fact that you also had basically left her there too). She sent you the mouth wide open face emoji, and you knew that you both could call it even.

Nat texted you a selfie of her and Bucky pouting remorsefully. It was enough to make you crack a grin (Bucky looked so ridiculous). You demurely sent them back a picture of your middle finger (because you were the bigger person of course), which only had her text back an apology with an IOU. You knew that they were only trying to be your friends, but at least you would have this photo as blackmail for future purposes.

You started to play a game on your phone mindlessly when you heard the door ring, indicating a new customer walking in. Not even looking up, you proceeded to win the next level of the game until someone set another chocolate chip milkshake down on your table.

“Oh, it’s okay, Bet, I didn’t want–,” you started to say as you looked up. But it wasn’t Betty who dropped off the milkshake.

It was Steve.

Your eyes widened a bit in just processing that he was actually there, standing in front of you. He actually came to find you? The scene from earlier was so crystal clear and akin to your high school memory, you were convinced that that would be it. As you sat there staring doe-eyed at Steve, the scene had felt like it glitched as it was now playing out differently than you had expected.

Heat rose to your cheeks as your gaze focused on Steve’s determined facial expression. You turned forward to face your new milkshake and deliberately avoided his narrowed gaze. You could feel him still staring at you and you shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t say anything but moved to sit across from you in the booth, heaving out a heavy sigh of his own as he did too.

You kept your eyes down as the both of you let the silence permeate the air around you. A few minutes passed before you were about to officially just get up and leave when Steve broke the silence first.

“I swear,” he turned to look over at you with an exasperated gaze. “I had no idea that she was going to be there.”

A disbelieving scoff came out of your mouth and you rolled your eyes blatantly. “Steve stop, again, you don’t have to do this – “

“Stop saying that, chip!” His voice was filled with a sternness that you couldn’t ignore. Your eyes widened at him as he continued, “I’m here because I want to be, okay? Not cause Bucky, or Nat, or your family told me to or forced me to. I found you - and I asked you to wait earlier and you ran away, again!”

A glare scrunched up your face as your fury rose up at the audacity of his scolding, “Excuse me?! I didn’t want to wait because I didn’t want to watch you and Sharon sucking each other’s faces off, again!” You flourished your mocking with a tight expression and only caused Steve to oppose you even more.

“She was the one who kissed me – I didn’t want to be there with her either. I haven’t even seen or spoken to Sharon since you left!” Steve blurted out.

Your heart felt like it was racing in your chest and your mind blanked at hearing Steve’s reveal as you tried to stutter out a response. “What– I don’t–,” words were hard. You thought that they were together for some time during the year in college. With the way that Sharon was acting, you assumed that they were still interacting with each other, somehow, at the very least.

Steve took advantage of your surprised silence and continued, “God, chip. After what happened at the party, I just…I realized then how much I hurt you.” He looked at you with such remorse as you just continued staring at him. The hardness that was built over the years was still surrounding you, trying to protect you, even if Steve was professing his regret.

“When I heard you say that you regretted having ever met me,” you both flinched at the words as he said them, “and this look in your eyes…it looked like you really despised me and I felt it and I just–,” Steve cut himself off with another flinch and pinched his eyes shut.

“I let it get to my head. When I made the team and when people started to pay attention to me, when those bullies stopped bothering me and actually invited me to things, I lost sight of what really mattered to me the most and that was you. I know that that is a stupid excuse, and that I was hurting you, even way before what happened at the party and I was dumb, immature, and just stupid, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, chip.” He spewed out the words faster than he could coherently process them but the sincerity could be heard in his rushed tone.

His downcast, teary eyed gaze met yours and you felt your breath hitch slightly at the sight. Growing up with Steve, he was always the formidable one. He was the one who reached out first to hold your hand if you cried. The one to maintain composure and calmness while you were the one who was more nervous and panicked. To see Steve so out of breath, wistful, and low-spirited was worrisome and unfamiliar to you.

You were at a loss for words as you tried your best to process his words. Steve bit his lip nervously as he tried to gauge your reaction. When you only met him with more silence, the despondent look in his face only grew, “Please. I completely understand if you still don’t want to be friends, and after this, I’ll completely leave you alone. But honestly, chip, I can’t leave knowing that you still hate me. I- I know that’s selfish, but I can’t.”

You moved your stare to blankly look at your melting milkshake, the whipped cream completely evaporated into the cold drink.

“You hurt me.” You blurted out.

Steve almost looked startled at hearing your voice after such a lingering silence. “I know, and I’m so sorry–.”

“No, Steve,” You interrupted him indignantly, “you hurt me.” The tears blurred your unseeing gaze again as you focused enough to meet his own. The whimper dislodged in your throat as you could no longer hide the suppressed pain.

Just like that, the both of you were 15 years old again. You were crying after being teased by other kids or bullied for your flaws, and Steve was there trying to console you. The impact of these experiences were a shared burden impenetrable to your friendship together.

The difference now is that, instead of your tears being spurred by the mean-spirited popular kids, Steve was the one who committed the offense, a betrayal that cut so deep and you were the only one to shoulder the burden.

Steve swallowed heavily as he blinked furiously to hold his own tears at bay. He seemed to understand what you were saying as his eyes glanced over the different features of your face. He knew all of your vulnerabilities and ignored, neglected his care of you by treating you the way that others had growing up. He abandoned you when you needed him the most, and he had to understand the severity of that in the same way that you tried to tell him then as you were now.

Steve exhaled deeply as he looked over at you. His still despondent eyes held a layer of genuine understanding as he apologized despairingly, “I’m so sorry.”

You sniffled as tears fell freely onto your cheeks, your puffy eyes and pained expression causing Steve to flinch in his own despondence. You brought a closed fist to your face again to wipe the tears and winced as you suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms envelop you in a soft embrace.

The tears only came down stronger at the feeling of hugging your best friend. Not feeling so alone anymore, your heart cried out with you in relief as you turned and tucked your face into his chest, your arms moved to clutch his back. Once you did, his embrace only became tighter as he squeezed you to him closer.

You both sat there for a while, just hugging, soft sobs falling from your lips while Steve continued to repeat quiet, but earnest, apologies. After a year of animosity, sadness, and unresolved hurt, the both of you silently agreed to let this moment just be.

Eventually, your tears stopped running so harshly and you sniffled back your snot-filled nose very charmingly as you reluctantly pulled away from his warmth. Steve still kept one muscular arm around your shoulder as you looked up at him hesitantly.

“Stevie?” You began to ask. Steve responded with a soft hum for you to continue while rubbing your shoulder soothingly. It didn’t even seem like he noticed that he was doing it.

Before you could lose your nerve, you meekly asked, “Why did you start pulling away from me when you started dating Sharon?”

Steve’s hand froze and he stilled as if he were preparing for the worst. He sighed while closing his eyes for a moment. Taking a breath, he opened them back up to look at you with a resolved and honest gaze.

“When I told you that Sharon asked me to the prom, I thought that would’ve been the moment that you told me that you liked me the same way that I liked you.”

Your heart thundered so loudly in your chest as you gave him a shocked, glazed over expression.

He liked you.

“But then you smiled at me, and you said that you were happy for me, and, I guess a part of me felt like I was foolish to have ever thought that you would actually like me more than a friend. I continued things with Sharon because I felt like I had to get over you.” He said regretfully.

You blinked up at him a few times before you asked dumbly, “And that’s why you were pulling away? The lies and the fake excuses, or why you ignored me when you were with Sharon?”

Steve flinched with each question as he confessed, “Yes. It was really immature of me to ignore you. If I could go back and do it over, I would in a heartbeat.” An intentional look sat on his face as he expressed his remorse.

You released another speechless hum in return, still processing that Steve liked you. In a spur of your own adrenaline running through your body, you suddenly disclosed, “Steve, I did like you the way that you liked me.”

Steve stilled and inhaled sharply, “...W-what do you mean?”

Mustering up your own fostered courage, you exhaled deeply and said, “I liked you too. But I was your best friend. I thought that you were the one who didn’t like me, so I thought that if I supported you in dating Sharon, I wouldn’t lose you completely.” You felt your face scrunch in confusion as how ridiculously unnecessary this entire separation was.

He only looked at you with incredulity as he realized, “So, because we couldn’t just buck up and tell each other honestly in that moment that we liked each other, we ended up losing each other anyways?”

“Ugh, what a mess.” You revered and knocked your forehead against his chest ashamedly. You both were quiet again as he resumed rubbing your shoulder calmingly.

“Chip?” Steve suddenly spoke out.

Raising your head up to look at him again, still cringing from such a huge misunderstanding, you gave him a soft hum to continue his inquiry.

Steve looked down into your eyes, making you feel mesmerized with how deeply he was gazing at you. From how close your faces were, you could really see the subtle hints of green in his blue eyes. There was still some grief there as you looked at each other but there was again, something else that you still couldn’t point out.

Noticing that unknowing glint in his eye for the second time that night, you questioned him curiously hoping to finally find out, “What is it?”

“I like you.”

Your breath hitched at his confession, his eyes filled with mirth again and an honesty that couldn’t be faked. Your thundering heart skipped a beat as you felt your own spirit restore within you. You could feel those pieces in your heart start to build again.

You looked back at him with such relief as Steve pulled you in closer, you took in another deep breath as you responded.

“I love you.”

His eyes immediately glowed with an infectious joy, a genuine laugh and smile graced his face as he got closer to you. You could hardly breathe as you returned his loving gaze, his nose nuzzled yours gently until the both of you met each other halfway in a tender, first kiss.

A/N: my cue to say: and they lived happily ever after! i would love to know what people thought, thanks for reading :)

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etherealising · 1 year ago

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chapter one | a berzatto family christmas

masterlist | next chapter ↣

pairing(s): carmen berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!michael berzatto x fem!reader : platonic!richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: you reunite with carmy years later at the berzatto family christmas party.

warnings: language (cursing), blasphemy, angst (maybe?), spoilers kinda (if you haven't seen season 2 don't read), the berzatto family, not dialogue heavy, very subtle hints to mikey being suicidal, probably ooc!characters, idk what else but if you find something let me know please! not beta’d and minimal editing so sorry for any mistakes. i also wrote this overstimulated on caffeine so if it doesn’t make sense or it’s repetitive then we know why : )

semantics: no use of Y/N: reader goes by the nickname Baby it has a backstory and its literally so simple, if this bothers you idk what to tell you, sorry : (

wc: 4.7k

You were standing on the sidewalk, nerves filling your body as you hyped yourself up to take the few steps left to the porch and ring the doorbell. You shouldn’t have been so nervous, you knew that but your mind was spinning with the myriad of scenarios both good and bad; that could play out once you stepped foot past the threshold. In all honesty, it wasn’t so much that you were nervous to enter the house itself, it was the fact that you’d be face to face with your childhood best friend for the first time in you didn’t even know how long. Maybe childhood best friend was a stretch you had only been introduced into each other's lives due to circumstance, and because of that forced proximity, you both took comfort in having someone stable around.

The two of you weren’t friends because you had chosen each other, or because you had met in kindergarten and shared toys in the sandbox because the other kids were stingy. No, you met because as a single mom, your mother needed all the shifts she could get even if that meant working the graveyard shift at the hospital, and only seeing you a handful of hours throughout the day because most times she was too dead on her feet to be conscious for more than a few hours. And when she could no longer pay the babysitter her next best option was the eccentric woman across the street who had children close in age with you.

Enter Donna Berzatto, a woman who came to feel like a second mom to you. It's not that she replaced your mom, no one could ever replace her, but she was the only real mother figure you knew for a time in your life. Who took you in as her own when your mother needed a new babysitter, and not just you but integrated your mom into the family as well, when she was spared the time off from nursing. Donna Berzatto who never sent you home empty-handed, and always made enough food for you and your mom to last throughout the week, just so your mother wouldn’t have to worry about fitting grocery shopping into her already hectic schedule. Donna Berzatto who, even when you were old enough to no longer need a babysitter, would send Carmy across the street to fetch you for family dinner, or even just invite you over because she thought you needed company.

Now that you were thinking about it, it seemed like you were more friends with his mom than you ever were with Carmen Berzatto. But then that would be a lie wouldn’t it?

You and Carmen Berzatto were friends due to circumstance, maybe even best friends. You weren’t just friends at his house, but you were school friends, you were everywhere friends. He really was your only true friend, of course, you had school friends, but that’s just what they were. You saw them Monday through Friday for a mandatory education, never an hour before school started or a minute after the final bell. Which didn’t necessarily bother you, but sometimes you longed for a weekend invitation to hang out, not that it ever came. And it wasn’t like you were shunned or unpopular in school, you were just average, you didn’t see a point in making friends with people you weren’t actually interested in befriending.

That’s what made Carmy so different, yes maybe you were only introduced due to circumstances but that didn’t stop the two of you from latching onto each other for dear life. Your mom always wondered how you two even established the friendship you did, with both of you being shy and never feeling the need to go out of your way to make friends. Include the fact that you had been neighbors practically your whole lives and never once taken an interest in each other aside from shy waves and curious childlike staring when either of you would be outside.

Your relationship with Carmen progressed as any childlike relationship would, you befriended each other, had your incessant petty arguments and fights, nothing ever serious enough to actually cause damage just childish antics. And it continued to progress through middle school and high school, the two of you were each other’s person, you just understood each other, the two of you let the other understand you, and wanted to be understood by each other.

You could also recall what you explain as a minute change in your friendship. As Senior year approached and you and Carmy continued to grow into yourselves, you developed a slight crush on the boy you had grown up with. It obviously wasn’t as small as you thought it was if you were standing in front of his childhood home giving yourself a pep talk just to ring the damn doorbell though was it?

The unsolicited card and wrapped present weighed heavy in your tote bag, as your breath was made visible by the chilly Chicago weather.

It was Christmas and for all intents and purposes you had been planning on mailing the present to Carmen’s New York address, but after visiting The Beef on your way back into town Mikey and Richie had let it slip that indeed the infamous Berzatto sibling would be gracing everyone with his presence this holiday season.

It was moments like these you wished you had picked up on the Berzatto family’s horrible smoking habit, thankfully your mom had taught you just how vital having functioning lungs was.

Your head shot up as the sound of loud rambunctious voices drew your attention to the front door opening and closing revealing a face you were all too familiar with and actually relieved to see. The oldest Berzatto brother stood on the porch, hands on his hips as he gave you a goofy smile. You could feel your lips stretching into a smile of your own, the infectious aura that Michael Berzatto exuded doing wonders to calm your racing mind.

“I know you didn’t come all this way just to stand outside staring at my family home like a fucking weirdo Baby.” Mikey’s smile grew in size as he teased you.

You rolled your eyes at the childhood nickname you wish hadn’t stuck as Mikey opened his arms to wrap you in one of his signature hugs. The two of you stood on the porch embracing each other for what felt like hours, you needed this hug as much as he needed it, you knew it and Mikey did too. That was the thing about you and Mikey although not blood-related it was as if your souls knew each other in a past life. Of the Berzatto siblings, Mikey was the last sibling you developed a relationship with. Growing up he was always just Carmy’s older brother but as you grew up surrounded by him, he became your surrogate older brother as well. And when Carmy dashed off to pursue his culinary dreams in New York, you and Mikey grew even closer.

You stepped back from the embrace, your eyes finding Mikey’s as he looked at you with a knowing glint in his eyes. “You not standing out here cause of a certain Chef in that house are ya?” Mikey asked, smirking down at you.

You chuckled “The only reason I come around anymore is for Mama Donna.” You joked doing a poor job to convince Mikey.

He nodded, tossing his head back with a laugh, “You were always a shit liar Baby. Carmy’s an idiot, don't let him ruin your Christmas.”

You let out a sigh head resting against Mikey’s chest as you tried to let his words soothe you even more, “He’s not ruining it, you just know things have been kind of stilted between us, and I don’t know this whole situation just feels awkward.”

You raised your head to look at Mikey again, “It’s awkward right? Am I making things awkward? I don’t wanna ruin Christmas Mikey, I know how your mom is and I know how Carmy is, I don’t wanna ambush him.”

The worry in your voice was evident as Mikey stood there listening to your ranting. His hand reached out as he used his thumb to massage away the frown between your eyebrows. “Calm down Baby, you know Ma is expecting you, and she wouldn’t take it well if you missed Christmas. She looks forward to seeing you every year, you give her a piece of Carmy when he can’t be fucking asked to come home and visit.” His hand moved down to cup the side of your neck rubbing soothing circles where his thumb rested, “Do it for Ma okay? Let Carmy be fucking wonder boy Carmy a’ight.”

You laughed nodding your head as best as you could with Mikey’s hand holding it, he smiled giving you one last hug before dropping his hand to grab your wrist and tug you into the house. You stopped him by placing a hand on his arm that was connected to yours.

“Hold on Mikey, I got you something.” You moved to start rummaging through your tote bag stalling because you were too nervous for his reaction to the present.

“Awe you didn’t have to get me nothing.” You turned back to him with the present in your hands as he held his own hands over his heart mockingly. You knew Mikey didn’t do well when it came to sentimental things and the best you would get out of him was a joke as opposed to anything else.

You laughed holding the rectangular wrapped present out to him, “I wanted to Mikey, don’t think of this as a gift, think of it uhh…as a show of appreciation yeah?” You nodded feeling your face heat up as you dropped your head so he couldn’t see how unsure you were about the gift.

He smiled, finding your shyness endearing before tearing into the neatly wrapped paper and revealing a frame, his hands engulfing it from end to end. He smiled looking at it before you saw confusion etch across his face, “This is great Baby, yeah but uh what the fuck am I looking at?”

You shove his shoulder before laughing at him and grabbing the frame out of his hands but holding it in front of your chest so he could still see its contents, “It's a trademark certification you dumbass, can’t you fucking read Mikey.” You joked to try and underestimate how big of a gift this was.

Mikey’s brows furrowed before he snatched the frame out of your hands to get a better look at the certificate sitting behind the glass, eyes snapping back up to your face with a look you couldn’t read. You shuffled your feet feeling like you overstepped a boundary you didn’t even know was between you and Mikey, “Don’t worry though I-I, put it in your name, it’s not like I trademarked it for myself or anything. I just know how much this means to you and I, I know shit has been tough lately and I’m sorry if you feel like I stepped on your toes but…Mikey, you deserve good things too okay?” You hadn’t meant to go on a rant, but you could feel the apprehension leaving you as you became passionate in every word you spoke.

“You deserve to be fucking happy Mikey, and I, I want you to know I fucking believe in you and I’m always in your corner. If it's-” You were cut off by Mikey clearing his throat, causing your eyes to snap back up to his, all the emotions he didn’t know how to translate into words swirling in his brown eyes, a small smile resting on his lips.

“Mikey-,” Before you could get another word out you were once again trapped in his comforting embrace, this hug conveying something completely different from the earlier one you shared. Mikey’s head tucked into your neck as you felt his uneasy breathing through your hands clutched around him. Mikey wasn’t the type to get emotional in front of other people, and feeling a tear of his smear against your cheek as he raised his head from your neck and settled his bearded cheek against yours, you weren’t sure if you had done the right thing by giving him the gift or not.

The two of you stood in silence as you allowed Mikey his moment, not wanting to make him feel insecure about you being present while he was being emotional. When he finally pulled away you could see the leftover sheen in his eyes. He tucked the framed certificate under his arm as both his hands reached up to grab your face in both of his hands, eyes finding yours, a whispered “thank you, baby,” leaving his lips as he placed a kiss on your forehead before he grabbed the frame again and wrapped you in another hug.

His head rested atop yours as your face rested against his chest, ear pressed against his beating heart. You lied, you thought the last hug was different, but no it was this hug that was different, while the second hug you shared in the span of 20 minutes was a hug of love and gratitude. This hug felt heavier, like there were things Mikey wanted to tell you but couldn’t, things he only felt he could convey through a hug, things you weren’t sure if you wanted to question or not.

It had been almost 20 minutes since Michael had escaped the house to do whatever the fuck it was he was doing outside. Carmy didn’t know and in all honesty he didn’t actually give a shit either, too busy helping Donna out in the kitchen to try to give any thoughts to whatever had grabbed Mikey’s attention.

He was focused in the corner of the kitchen making Tiff Sprite to help alleviate her nausea symptoms. Anyone else would have done their best to block out the rambunctious noises going on throughout the house, not Carmy though, the chaos fueled him, it grounded him. If the house was quiet it would have been too much for him, to be alone with his own thoughts ping-ponging around in his head, waiting for a chance to drown him. So if he had to listen to his mom list a plethora of things he needed to make sure happened for Christmas dinner to go off without a hitch while he was making Sprite from scratch, he welcomed it.

He finished his concoction just in time for Richie to walk through the kitchen, the older man trying to figure out how the fuck it was even possible to make Sprite from scratch. Gratefully taking the glass Carmy had offered to him, marveling at the carbonated drink in his hand.

Carmy nodded in his direction, “Yo Cousin, where the fuck is Mikey. He just fucking disappeared.” Carmy’s head swiveled around the kitchen double checking whether his brother was there or not, coming up empty in his search. Richie glanced up before settling his eyes back on the drink in his hand still doing the mental math to wrap his head around what the fuck Carmy just made.

Richie jutted his head in the direction of the front door, “Outside talking to Baby.” His eyes finally focused on Carmy’s in time to see the frown grace the younger man’s face, his eyebrows pinching together in agitation, annoyed that his brother was on a phone call rather than inside. Though that’s what Carmy told himself subconsciously he knew he was just annoyed at the fact that Mikey was even talking to you at all. Carmy didn’t think he was possessive but as you and Mikey grew closer through the years, he couldn’t help but feel miffed about the ever growing friendship between the two of you. You and your friendship with Carmy was the first thing in his life that he felt like was actually his and his alone.

It’s funny really for Carmy to think he has any sort of claim over you, or like the two of you were even really friends anymore. When he left Chicago to pursue his culinary dreams, he left you behind to, essentially ghosting the one real friend he did have. It’s not like he meant to, you two just went your separate ways after graduation, and he wasn’t even sure if there even was an “Us” when it came to the two of you anymore. If that was the case the only person he had to blame was himself, it was no fault of yours that your friendship had hit a plateau, Carmy hadn’t responded to a text of yours in years, and the fact that you still texted him to this day caused a slight pain in his chest as he stood in the middle of his mother’s kitchen, frown still etched into his features.

“He’s outside on the phone with Baby?” Carmy questioned the ache in his chest doing nothing to alleviate his irritation. It was Richie’s turn to frown reciprocating the same confused look Camry wore.

“What - No dickhead, he’s talking to Baby, like she’s right in fucking front of him and shit.” Richie swatted the side of Carmy’s head like a child. “Your moms invites her to every holiday, Cousin, and she comes every time.” Richie knew the last bit wasn’t necessary but felt Carmy rightfully deserved it, all anyone wanted from the youngest Berzatto was a visit.

“Dudes been out there for fucking ever though, those to idiots just standing outside like a bunch of fucking jackoffs.” Richie left the kitchen not waiting for Carmy to follow him before heading to the front door. He stopped moving the curtain on one of the side windows to spot two of the people he considered family. He let out a low whistle nudging Carmy’s shoulder who had finally joined his side nodding his head to the window.

“Get a load of these fucking losers hugging on the porch like they’re in some fucking Hallmark movie or some shit.” Richie laughed pointing at you and Mikey through the window. Carmy leaned closer to get a peak at what Richie was going on about.

Carmy hated to admit it, but Richie was right, the too of you looked like the happy couple who just saved a small town’s Christmas or whatever the fuck Hallmark movies were about. Mikey had finally separated himself from you long enough for Carmy to take in your features. He’d be lying if he said the years apart made him forget what you looked like. You were still the same girl he left in Chicago all those years ago except the wand of maturity had touched you, and in his opinion he thought you looked more beautiful than you had in high school.

Carmy was never one to pay too much attention to a woman’s features, and not because he didn’t care, it's just that he didn’t think it mattered. But as he drank in your form he learned in that exact moment why a woman might want people to notice the small things. Like the haircut you were sporting that Carmy felt shaped your face well, not that he knew shit about stuff like that, but he could appreciate art when he saw it. The outfit you picked out doing wonders to compliment your tall form and accentuate your legs. Carmy could look at you all day, scratch that he wanted to look at you all day.

He was torn from his reverie as Richie narrated the scene happening in front of them, “Aw look at these fuckers lookin all in love an shit.” He joked watching as Mikey slung his arm around you and led you towards the door, what looked to be a frame held in his other hand. The two of you walked side by side, your arm wrapped around his torso, hugging him into your side, Mikey’s head leaning slightly down to whisper something in your ear a small smile gracing your face as Mikey pressed his lips onto your temple lingering there for what Carmen swore was forever.

The tightness in his chest intensified tenfold as the realization of just how close you and Mikey had become sank into him. He didn’t know how to feel, his brain not even allowing any emotions to process, saving himself from any conclusions he might come to from a split second interaction.

Carmy left, he chose his path, he knew this, and he had no regrets he would pursue his dream every time the opportunity was presented. He just wished that, maybe if he held onto you as tightly as you still held onto him, it would’ve been him greeting you on the sidewalk on Christmas Day, being the sole object of your attention holding you close to his longing body. He knew overall the decisions he made regarding you were wrong, while he ignored your daily text and calls enough times for you to just resort to monthly check ins asking him about his endeavors and congratulations as you heard about his achievements in the culinary industry, he knew deep down that Mikey answered every text and call you sent his way, made it his mission to connect with you anytime you were back in Chicago.

Carmy couldn’t admit it to himself but deep down he knew his family saw spending time with you as a way to stay connected to him. You were the closest thing any of them still had to Carmy, and even though he had essentially cut you off from his life, his family loved you too much to allow Carmy’s shortcomings to affect their relationship with you.

He was broken from the recesses of his mind as Richie threw the door open stepping over the threshold raising his hands in the air to welcome you and Mikey into the house. The glass of Sprite still clutched in his left hand, a broad smile spread across his face as you left Mikey’s hold to greet Richie eyes not having spotted Carmy who was hidden behind Richie’s small frame.

Carmy’s first up close look at you in years were your hands wrapped around Richie’s torso as he pulled you into a hug, rocking the two of you back and forth, Richie let you go quickly turning his body back into the house “A’ight fuckers you can all stop pretending you care so much about Carmy and his little rat in the chef hat bullshit. We got the real deal here now, Baby's gracing us with her journalist presence.”

Carmy’s brows furrowed at Richie’s dig only slightly offended about being compared to a fictional character named after pasta, too caught up in allowing the sound of your laugh to grace his ears for the first time in what felt like forever. Mikey had finally caught up to you standing behind you with a hand placed on your shoulder, Carmy watched as his brother’s hand glided up and down your arm before giving your bicep a slight squeeze and nodding his head in Carmy’s direction.

If Carmy was being honest it was becoming increasingly difficult to quiet his mind that was eagerly trying to piece everything together. From yours and Mikey's prolonged moment on the porch, to the kiss he placed on your temple, add in Richie’s jokes and the almost constant physical contact between you and Mikey and Carmy was sure he figured shit out.

You looked to where Mikey motioned his head finally noticing Carmy’s figure standing there while Richie ran off towards the stairs after his impromptu introduction. Looking at Carmy was like being in a Time Machine, nothing had drastically changed, he looked more exhausted than what you remembered. But overall he was the same Carmy you parted ways with all those years ago.

A small smile graced your lips as you took him in, he was still your Carmy appearance wise, and right now for you that was all that mattered. You lifted your hand in a small wave gaining his attention, your smile growing wider as your eyes locked with his.

The clearing of a throat broke you from your thoughts, Mikey’s hand giving your shoulder a squeeze as he walked you two into the house before shutting the door behind him. As he finished he stood in front of you so that Carmy was partially covered from view by each brother in your line of vision though your focus was taken up by the eldest. He gave you a reassuring smile before gently knocking his fist against your chin and presumably turning to leave you and Carmy alone.

As Mikey walked past Carmy he gave him his signature grin and a wink before patting his shoulder as left to check on Donna in the kitchen and mingle with the other guests.

Carmy’s face was still set in the same frown it had been in when he first asked Richie where Mikey ran off to. You took a deep breath to settle your nerves before taking a step to close the gap between you, your hand reached out to gently squeeze Carmy’s arm though stopping in midair as you watched him subtly flinch. Your smile faltered, your hand finding its rightful place at your side. You looked up to see the apology in Carmy’s eyes, you did your best to brush the moment off, maybe you came on too strong, maybe it wasn’t fair that you were still pushing for a friendship when Carmy had given you all the reasons to stop trying, maybe the Carmy in front of you was a different Carmy to the one you used to know. Maybe the life where it was you and Carmy had finally taken its last breath and you were just too clingy and desperate to realize.

You cleared your throat trying to alleviate the lump forming from the thoughts that were racing through your brain. The small placating smile on your face there to stop you from having a full breakdown in the Berzatto’s foyer. “Its good to see you Carmen, I hope New York is treating you well.” You lips wrapped around the generic greeting forcing yourself not to say anything you might regret.

Carmy nodded his head rapidly accepting your lackluster words, his lips parting and closing all in the same breath. The man obviously had nothing to say to you, and maybe you just had to accept that. You stayed a moment longer cursing yourself for doing so as the air between you two filled with palpable tension.

“Baby, is that you? My goodness you look fucking gorgeous.” Half of Donna’s body had popped out of the kitchen finally gaining a spare moment to greet you. Her words mumbled through the cigarette between her lips, a ladle held in her right hand while the left was occupied by tongs. Her apron covered in all sorts of sauces and whatever the hell else your brain couldn’t even begin to discern.

You laughed half in amusement and half in relief, you weren’t sure how much longer you could stand there as Carmy burned holes in your body. You waved at Donna quickly, beginning to head towards her to join her in the kitchen. It wasn’t your first choice as an escape from Carmen but you’d rather try and help Donna finish preparing Christmas dinner than be around Carmy for another minute.

Donna waved the tongs in Carmy’s direction, “Jesus fucking Christ Carmen, take the girls bag and coat. Don’t just fuckin stand there.” She huffed eyes glaring the longer Carmen stayed glued to the spot. You handed him your tote as soon as his arm shot out and began hastily shimmying out of your jacket. You gave him a soft smile before laying the jacket on his awaiting arm.

You began to leave the foyer as Donna motioned for you to follow her, mentally preparing yourself for what you were about to walk into. A sudden thought occurred causing you to gently grip Carmy’s bicep as you were walking past him, “I uh, I actually bought you a Christmas present. So um, find me later yeah?” You smiled tilting your head slightly in questioning.

Carmen Berzatto graced you with a small smile, nodding back in agreement as you sent him one final nod and turned to enter the kitchen. The first positive emotion he granted you since you walked back into his life 30 minutes ago.

next chapter ↣

a/n: this is my first fic that i’m publishing and i genuinely have no clue what the fuck any of this is, : ) but nonetheless hope you all enjoy! or don’t i’m just a stranger on the internet. constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated though. please like, comment, reblog if this behemoth tickles your fancy!

also i write for fun/hobby and i'm such an inconsistent bitch so don't get your hopes too high, but this will potentially be a series idk yet though lol.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #the bear fic #michael berzatto #richie jerimovich #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #carmen berzatto angst #platonic!michael berzatto #all i ever knew only you ₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊#[aiekoy] 1

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ofswordsandpens · 11 months ago

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I've enjoyed episode 3 the most so far, but I think the show is still struggling to find a good balance between taking itself seriously and the absurdist humor that RR writes with. My main takeaways:

The Fight Scenes (or Lack Thereof?)

It seems very peculiar to me that the show is just speed running through its battle scenes. Again, it feels very much like the product of Disney trying to sanitize anything that's too extreme?

The trio fleeing from the kindly ones in the book ended with Percy taking control of the bus and then crashing it. It explodes. They lose all of their stuff (money, food). In the show, they simply bail out the back window. No true panic. No tension. Just, okay :) we're leaving now :)

The Medusa Scene. I'll speak more to this later, but in terms of the fight we get to see... well we get to see nothing. Apparently this fight required us to view it through the lens of the invisibility cap (ie. not at all),

I understand this show is intended for a younger audience, but the books are as well. Even the movies, which are pg, came up with better ways to show things without necessarily showing things. As a result, it feels like anything that might induce the slightest bit of tension or fear are sanded down and its honestly doing such a disservice to the books and the audience.

Medusa

I actually really liked this portrayal of Medusa. The 1950s housewife vibe landed well for me. And I loved the actress's voice -- very soft and soothing but always sounding as if she were just about to cry.

Also, I really liked her dialogue. Her digs at Athena and Poseidon were perfectly tragic.

That being said, I really prefer the trio's arrival to the emporium in the book. In the books, they've been wandering the woods and are lost and exhausted and hungry because of the battle/bus crash where they've lost all of their stuff. It almost feels like the emporium popping up "out of nowhere" was more of it finding them.

Meanwhile in the show, Grover finds it through scent on a satyr path and they immediately know its Medusa, which imo takes out so much of the fun of it all??? In the books, they dont know. Grover's just like, freaking the ever living fuck out, and clearly Percy and Annabeth have let him take sole custody of the shared brain cell, cause they're more concerned about getting some food than anything else

Just... RIP dumbass shenanigans

And honestly, I'm not really sure what necessitated the change here in the show (of them not being tricked). It would have been one thing if they were going to change Medusa entirely to not wanting to harm them at all, but imo, I think its arguable/evident that show Medusa was looking for an excuse to petrify Annabeth and Grover (at minimum) regardless of anything.

Honestly, I would have had the show loosely play it out as: book arrival (they dont know its Medusa), keep the dumbass energy and banter, the trio figures out it Medusa while they're eating, Medusa is the more sympathetic version we see in the show, regardless it still ends with the battle.

Also, I do mourn the book battle. The panic and absurdity is just handled better imo. Annabeth shoving them off the bench, Grover flopping all over the place with the shoes but actively getting a good few hits in, Percy having to use to the reflection to behead her... the #TeamWork was emphasized a little more there to me.

Characterization

I think the show is absolutely nailing certain parts of the characters.

They've gotten Percy's anger and his derision towards the gods down. But, I think they're actually underscoring some of his, idk, sincerity? His kindness? It was the line "she met a pinecone's fate" that just rang off to me. While undoubtedly funny, it's just such a stark difference from his reaction to Thalia's story in the books, where he was unsettled by her fate and felt a sincere sympathy for her. The line in the show I assume is meant to criticize the gods, but still, it feels like it comes at the expense of the sensitivity that he has.

They've gotten Annabeth's bluntness, intelligence, pride, and superiority down cold. No question about it. But I feel like they just need to let her be more of a 12yo kid?

Like. In canon she and Percy banter and argue over the silliest of things. She plays hacky sack with Grover and Percy. She blushes and hyperventilates when Luke interacts with her. Episode 3 is like the first time we've gotten to see her do something remotely childish (buying all that candy) and I'm just dying for more of that!! She's not the "mom" of the group and she has her canon dumbass moments. I'm hoping more of this is captured moving forward. They've gotten a good start on the banter, but let Annabeth be more silly! Cause she is!

(Absolutely none of my personal qualms about the characterization are Walker or Leah's fault. They've done amazing. It's the writing/directing I'm side-eyeing).

OH! And I'm sorry but Percy being like "Annabeth we're going to bury medusa with your hat on" would have never ever flown with Annabeth. In no world.

But Grover eating them up at the end? Iconic. Good for him.

#pjo adaptation #pjo show crit #pjo

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mochamadeleines · 1 month ago

Text

Sins, Two Through Four <3

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Theyre nice, sure. Honeyed voices and beautiful eyes. But theyre just not for him. He prefers to stick with what he knows best. Messy, broken, women who are looking to distract themselves with him and his body. Sharp eyes topped with heavy eyeliner and eyeshadow. Women who know what to do with him.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that. (3.3k words)

tags!! 18+ javier peña x reader ! one shot! inoccent reader i guess?, no set era just vaguely somewhere in the late 80s early 90s :p, since its like entirely from his perspective hes only referred to as Javi and not javier sorry if that bothers u </3, corruption, religious allegories, steve and connie r there for five seconds, dubious I suppose cuz they be drinking, smut but its not like Good and its also there for about five second lolol.., p in v sex, blow jobs, rough sex, lots of depressing internal dialogue for javi Uhhhhhh, Sus thoughts abt causing harm to u I GUESS?? Toxic javi of course lol. kinda bad boy x good girl concept here but he wants to make u WORSE. mannn idk, some dom/sub dynamics if u squinttt

authors notes!! hi! Ok my first Javi fic LOOOOL been binging narcos and i had to take a break from my joel fic in the works to write this shit. I SPENT THE ENTIRE DAY PUMPING THIS OUT AHHHHH Beinf as that ive been working on it For One whole day it may not b my best work but i still had fun!! i kinda like the religious allegories Uhh IM NOT RELIGIOUS OR SCHOLARYLY OR ANYTHING so take whatever i reference with a grain of artsy salt.. enjoy!!!!

Javi doesnt do good girls. Literally and figuratively.

Hes been soiled by the world, therefore belongs with others whove met the same fate. But, hes okay with that.

That brings him to now, at this crowded bar with Steve, later Connie. And you, he guesses. Hes never met you but hes heard of you. Tonight youre tagging along so thats that.

Anyways, Steve is updating him on his daughter and something else about enrolling her in private school but New York City is wildly expensive. Javis caught the eye of a pretty brunette further away from the bar hes sitting at. Shes in a black miniskirt begging to get taken off.

“Stop eye-fuckin’ her, Im talkin’ to you.”

“Relax, Im listening.” Javi takes another drag from his cigarette, tapping away the ash into a tray.”Youre a hard worker, Im sure you can find a way to move up and earn a little more for Olivias private schooling.”

Steve sighs, nursing his beer as he thinks. “Maybe. Just dont wanna be away from her more than i have to be.”

“Mm.”

The brunette beckons him over, and Javi is already sliding off the stool to meet her. “Ill be r-”

“Steve!”

Connie is here, and so is her-

Friend?

Youre wearing a baby blue slip with sheer white tights and a thin, white cardigan. Youre pretty. Its only when you introduce yourself and he meets your eyes that hes sure. Youre good. And he doesnt do good. Youre not his type, Javi decides. Lame.

He moves down a seat so you can sit next to Connie whos also next to Steve, and you seem nervous. He gets the feeling you dont come out to places like this a lot. Its too.. Grungy. People smoke inside and get crazy drunk and dance. Probably not your speed. Youre easy to read.

Steve, “Remind me again how you know each other?”

“From work! Shes a nurse.” Connie smiles at Steve first, and then to you. A nurse, of course. Because youre good and its practically oozing off of you. Maybe hes wrong. He hopes hes wrong. Only because youre so pretty, with pretty pink blush and lipgloss.

You now, “I work in pediatrics.”

You work with children? Jesus christ.

You help people- help your community and take care of children. Javi had to watch children die, over and over, all too complicit each time it happens. No, youre not his type. Hes not into angels. Javi is far from holy and isnt about to desecrate you.

Then there's this feeling that starts to stir in his gut. An ugly feeling that wants to scratch through flesh and bone to get out. He takes the final drag of his cigarette before smushing it into the ashtray. Why do you bother him so much? Maybe its because upon your arrival that pretty brunette he was eyeing disappeared. A real shame.

But youre here, and your breasts are softly spilling over the neckline of your dress, and while the length is enough to cover your ass when youre standing, the way it looks while youre sitting is a whole different story. Youre good eye candy. Glass half full thinking.

He clears his throat. “How long-”

The bartender interrupts with a pearly smile. Hes asking if you want anything and hes obviously into you. Annoyingly so.

While youre ordering, Steve and Connie walk away to dance, and Connie stops by Javi, dipping her head to his ear. “Please, please dont fuck my friend.”

Ironic.

“Dont worry,” He leans his elbow on the counter, finishing the rest of his whiskey. “Shes not my type. Go have fun.”

You order three shots of vodka and apple juice. Its a little cute the way you hold your nose while you down each shot and chase it with some juice. Javis on his next glass of whiskey, watching how some of your drink rolls down your collar bone and into the valley of your breasts.

The sight of you is downright sinful. Its not fair.

“You need another shot or are you good now?”

Youre laughing, batting your hand dismissively. “No, No. Im good. I hate alcohol so I wanted to get this part over with and loosen up a little.”

“You dont have to drink it if you dont want to.”

“I like being drunk, just not drinking.”

“Fair enough.”

You fold your hands in your lap, and spin your seat side to side. “You were asking me something earlier?”

“How long have you been a nurse?”

“Three years now. I was working at a different hospital until recently. Thats how I met Connie.”

“Ah.”

“And you? What do you do?”

Javi lets the silence linger a bit. Fuck it. “Uh, CIA- but im retired now.”

“Oh- Yes! Right! Connie- She told me. Im sorry, you probably dont wanna talk about it.”

This is what makes his gums start itching. Most women- who are just as tragic as him- just bat their lashes and tell him its sexy he works for the government.

But you- Youre good. So you actually care about how hes feeling, and arent just trying to fuck him. Maybe that could change?- Ugh- No- no. Just no. Youll be ruined. Youd get dirty and thatd weigh him down like everything else does. Plus, Connie told him not to.

“Um. Have you done anything fun recently? Aside from all that?” Cute how you try to change the subject to spare his feelings.

Javi breaks open a new pack of cigarettes, slipping one out and putting it between his lips, then flicks his lighter on. Once, twice. A fifth time. No dice. The fucking thing ran out fluid.

“Fuck,” He grumbles.

“Ah! Hold on!”

An eyebrow is raised.

You dig through your purse, and pull out a disposable lighter. You thumb the sparkwheel a couple times to get the flame going.

“Do you mind?”

Javi hums no and leans forward. You do too, cupping your hand over the flame in case it goes out. It lights, and he gets a good drag in.

“Thank you.”

“Youre welcome.” And youre smiling again and Javi wants to shake you around and see where youre hiding your halo. Hes good at getting information out of people. He could get you to confess.

“Any reason you carry around a lighter?”

“Uhh. For medicinal purposes.”

“Cheeky.”

You spin in your chair once, all the way around then wobble when you stop. Javi shoots his arm out to grab yours and keep you steady.

“Careful.”

“Thanks.” A short breath. “Still think I need another shot?”

Javi smirks. “Oh, definitely.”

And youre ordering two shots. Bold.

“To answer your question, I havent done any fun things, no- Oh actually, you know what? I went to the art museum the other day.”

“The MET?”

“Mhm.”

“I went there a few months ago! Its beautiful isnt it? Do you have a favorite exhibit?”

“Probably European sculptures. The ones under the skylights were my favorite.”

“Yeah, those are beautiful.” You look off, dreamy.

Youre a childrens nurse, youre bad at drinking, you like art, and Javier feels sick just sitting next to you. Theres so much ugly out there, hes sure youre aware, and yet youre as bright as ever infront of him. Youd probably fit right in with The Triumph of the Church.

Theres only one word that can describe that ugly feeling swirling in him.

Envy. He wishes he could be as untouchable as you feel right now.

Theres a push and pull. He wants to taste your lips and roll up your dress and roughen you up, but he cant- he shouldnt. You dont deserve to get felt up by someone so unclean.

And yet,

Your beautiful smile, one that always reaches your eyes, and your precious laugh, and the way youve been nervously playing with your hands this entire time makes him want to break you. To rip those wings out and keep you from flying.

Javi really is devilish.

“Okay, shot time!” You push one of the glasses towards him.

“Im not taking a shot,” He takes another puff from the cigarette, then lets it rest on the ashtray.

“C’mon, Javier! Pleeeeeaaaase?”

“Javi.” He emphasizes.

“Okay.” You nod, “Javi, please?”

“Fine.”

Alright, alright. It didnt take much, but to be fair ‘please’ and ‘Javi’ just sound so good together when you say it.

Clink!

You count to three, and together you take the shot. Javi only grimaces at the taste and youre scrambling for the juice after letting go of your nose. Youre so damn messy about it too. Javi gets the bartender to get some napkins.

“I think I'm done,” You cough.

“I think youre done too.” He smiles, “Do you normally spill your drinks on yourself?”

You patiently hold still while Javi wipes down your mouth, then your chin, then your collarbone, careful to not get too close to your chest. He eyes the dainty necklace that carries your first name initial.

“Noooo, it all just happens so fast, you know? Oh! And thank you for cleaning me up.” Youre smacking your lips together, “Ah shit, my gloss.”

“Yeah, looks like you ate it all in the chaos.” He glances over at the four shot glasses, all stained.

You groan after digging through your purse. “Fuck, I left my compact at home.”

“Being a girl seems hard.”

“It is.” You sigh, albeit dramatic. “Ill be back.”

You slide off the stool and almost eat shit actually. At least Javi is there to catch you. Again. This might be a recurring theme tonight considering how many drinks you had. Must be a lightweight.

“Im sorry- Fuck, Im so sorry,” Youre laughing again, and it gets a laugh out of him too. Back on the stool you go.

“If you fall again Im not gonna catch you.”

“Thats okay, I wouldnt catch me either.”

Javi thinks for a moment, curious.

“I could, yknow, put the gloss on you. If you want.”

“Really? Youd do that?”

Your eyes are big and bright, lashes accentuated by your mascara. The way you look at him makes him feel oddly special. Its not sultry, or wanting. You have this natural allure to you. Angelic. That alone makes him want to touch you again. To yank you down from the clouds.

“Yeah, gimmie the gloss.”

You put it in his palm and lean towards him. Javi messes with the applicator, listening to the squish of product inside the tube. Seems easy enough.

Javi situates himself more comfortably in the chair, then holds your chin as he applies it. Youre well behaved the entire time, like he expected, except for the fact that you lost your balance again and gripped onto his thigh to keep you from falling. He clears his throat. There are blaring alarms in his head telling him to put distance between you both.

“Sorry.”

“Its alright. I dont mind.”

You swallow nervously. Any angel would be nervous if they were this close to an agent of hell. Get it? Agent?

Javi tucks away the fly aways first. The applicator swipes across your bottom lip, and hes squinting at the little sparkles in the gloss. Its a nice touch. His thumb rubs away any excess to keep it neat.

“Good job for not falling again.”

“I had some help.” And youre both grinning now.

“Mkay, all done.”

You smack your lips, nodding. “Thank you.”

This is the moment where Javi should let you go. He should excuse himself and find someone who isnt you, someone whos filthy just like him, and have them instead.

You tilt your head in his palm, letting him cradle your face.

But youre so pretty, and youre so sweet, and youre right there.

That feeling from earlier is bubbling up again, the need to ruin you. You might look prettier covered in bite marks and sweat, with your hair messed up and your recently applied gloss all gone. Again.

He shouldnt.

But then again, what are sinners even good for if not this? Converting others and carrying on the missions of the Devil himself, you know, the works. Fuck, its not like he wasnt doing it anyways. Shout out to the government.

Javi observes you, trying to make a decision. “Hey,”

“Hiii.”

“Can I take you home?”

Its was easy, and you were so well behaved about it too. You did a little nervous yapping on the way to his apartment but it was cute. He learned you had a pet cat, and he tells you about the dog he grew up with. You talk about the shitty weather recently and Javi tells you he got rained on and slipped going up the stairs. It settles your nerves. Good. His phone keeps ringing in the glove compartment, but he just tells you to ignore it. Steve no doubt.

He makes sure to hold your hand on the way up to his apartment, giving it a squeeze before he lets go to open the door.

Javi’s heart never usually pounds this hard bringing any woman to his place, and its downright sinnister how excited he is.

When the door closes, you both leave your shoes at the door.

“Want anything? I dont have any apple juice but I can give you orange juice? Water if you want that instead?”

“Orange juice sounds good.”

You begin to linger about his living room. Youre probably getting a feel for how impersonal it all is. Plain. His room is a bit more interesting, at least.

Javi hands you the glass and shucks off his leather jacket, draping it over one of the kitchen chairs.

The first time he kisses you, is while walking through to the entrance of his bedroom. One hand gripping your hip and the other cradling the back of your head. He swallows ever whimper, every sigh, every squeak until the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress. Javi pulls away, watching the string of spit snap and cling to your bottom lip.

“Are you good at following directions?”

“Yes-Yes. I am.” You choke out.

Now sat on the bed, “Great. On your knees then.”

Tonight, youre going to pray. Youre going to sing.

You hesitate to get down, but do it with no complaints. Javi stretches over to the bedside table, grabbing a spare pack of cigarettes and lighter.

Your eyes are on him, patiently waiting for another command.

He continues to smoke at a leisurely pace, petting your head and caressing the apples of your cheeks. Youre leaning into his hand affectionately again.

Youre hit with some of the excess smoke he breathes out, coughing a bit.

“Javi-”

“No more talking. Understand?”

A beat passes, and you nod again, only shuffling forward to rest your head on the inside of his thigh. Javi taps away the ash.

“Good girl.”

You stay down there for a little while, only squirming and wiggling to relieve the soreness settling into your knees. You dont talk, you dont whine, you dont go grabbing at him. You stay put because he didnt tell you to do anything else. Youre good. Angels are loyal to a fault.

When you do get a command, youre perking up like a dog. Cute. Javis telling you to take his cock out.

You go for it, and he tuts at you. “Do it slow.”

And so, youre doing it slowly now, pulling out the leather from under the buckle, opening it up and then popping open the button to his jeans. Your lips press into a thin line, looking up at him for reassurance.

“Go on.”

His zipper is pulled down at a snails pace, and your eyes widen at the lack of underwear. No surprise there. Javi sighs when you take him your hand.

He lets you feel him up curiously, your thumb wisping over his flushed tip, smearing along the white beads gathering there.

“Put it in your mouth.”

You stiffen, unsure. Javis reminded that youre good and you probably dont do this kind of thing a lot.

“Its not hard, nena. Promise. Want me to teach you?”

Youre nodding now, more eagerly.

“Start by kissing it.”

Tentatively, you kiss starting from the bottom up- That much you know how to do- So its a good start. He sighs out the last bit of smoke and stretches over to the bedside again to put out the cigarette.

After kissing, youre licking, and after licking, youre finally trying to swallow him. He groans, holding the back of your head and coaxing you to take more.

You gag, backing out to catch your breath then taking him in again.

“Jus’ like that- Fuck-”

And somehow the slight inexperience gives you the upperhand. You want to be good for him, and your clumsy hands are doing as much as they can to make up for your lack of deep-throating capabilities.

Its when you suck harshly on the head that he hunches forward with a gasp. “Yeah-Yes.”

You do it again, and again, and hes so fucking close now but he stops you. Not yet.

“You did good.” Javi reassures you. “Get up.”

You wobble up onto your feet and hes pulling you into a kiss, hands exploring you all over with urgency. He needs it now, to do what he wanted to do at the bar when he first started talking to you. He needs to drag you down with him.

Javi pulls your cardigan off, and then your dress, and as more layers of your clothing come off the more he cant wait. Youre moaning under his tongue, only squirming when he nips at the flesh of your torso, leaving a trail of blossoming bruises in his wake. He tells you to lay down and you follow accordingly.

Javi kisses up your stomach, and the junction between your neck and shoulder. You almost speak, almost. And it has his dick harder than he thought it could get. Youre still obeying. Fucking incredible.

He pulls your hips forward, making you whimper. A finger traces through your folds, and he practically gushes with pride just feeling what hes done to you so far. He hasnt even gotten to the best part.

“Talk to me,”

Youre babbling now, “K-Keep touching me- Dont stop. Please, Javi.” There it is again. ‘Please’ and ‘Javi’. He cant say no to someone whos been so reverent thus far.

He rewards you by tracing soft circles around your clit, watching the way your abdomen flexes at the pressure. The combination of nervousness and arousal has your thighs quaking around his forearm. You give in so easy.

Javi tells you to lay on your stomach, Then, hes pressing kisses up your spine to soothe you. To sedate you.

You practically crumble when his cock reaches all the way inside you. This is it. Hes going to rip those obnoxious fucking wings out of your back.

“Javi,” You wheeze, clawing at the sheets. His hand sits on the nape of your neck to keep you pinned down. Javi grunts, doubling forward over your back. Its almost like hes punishing your guts just because youre you.

He grabs your wrists instead, pulling them behind your back and anchoring himself with one hand. The other curls into your hair, yanking your head up from the pillow you covered in drool.

You sob, trembling when Javi buries himself to the hilt. Hes panting over your neck like a dog, licking and nipping there like one too.

“Thank you,” You sniffle, twisting your neck to get a glimpse of him. Your mascaras running down your face. Humble, even in the face of your own sacrilege.

Javi shushes you with a sloppy kiss. Hell only accept your thanks when hes finally run you dry.

Tonight is the night you fell from grace. All because of him.

#javier peña #narcos #pedro pascal #mocha writes #javier pena x reader #narcos fanfiction #smut #javier x reader #javier pena x you #oneshot #tired of over analyzing this so im just posting SIGHHSHSSS

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socheckitout-mikey · 2 years ago

Note

do u think u could do something where johnny and the reader aren't officially dating or anything but she keeps stealing and wearing his clothes, and the gang starts teasing them for it, which eventually leads to him actually asking her out? i'm sorry if this is too much or anything but thank you so much!!

ahhh this is so cute! idk how i missed this one. my apologies for taking so long writing it out. it came out waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoy what i came up with. (': <33 - mae

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Title: The Shirt Thief

Pairing: Johnny Cade x reader

Summary: A cold night with Johnny Cade in the vacant lot brings you an unusual sense of warmth in the form of his denim jacket. What starts off with said jacket, causes you to end up with multiple articles of Johnny's clothes. It all seems harmless until the gang starts digging their noses into Johnny's business. Are you guys friends or are you more than that?

Word Count: 9,472

Disclaimer: THIS IS EDITED! I fixed the spelling mistakes and some of the grammatical errors. I also added a few new things to it, mainly in dialogue. I hope you like it though! :)

Warnings: Mentions of abuse in Johnny's home (with his parents), animals hunting and fighting, Soc's bullying the reader - vice versa, almost attempted assault, the gang coming to the rescue, rough housing with the gang (banter mainly) and a whole lot of sass! Johnny is somewhat ooc here because he's more talkative and sassy, but it's just how the piece came along! Let me know if I forgot anything else.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The story of our pesky shirt thief begins in the vacant lot under the sparkling night sky. This night was a relatively clear one in the cusp of autumn’s frost. The full moon was ample, a stunning silver glow that hypnotically danced, shrouded slightly from the wispy clouds sent onward by the chilly fall wind. Amber, golden and burnt brick red crumpled leaves tumbled noisily across the sandy dirt in a mini whirlwind. A toasty fire was being nurtured timidly upon the outskirts of this deserted place, courtesy of Johnny Cade. Underneath the jagged canopy of an almost bare tree, losing its wrinkled leaves, our greasy raven haired boy’s fingers quivered around the spindly stick in his hand. Gave an experimental poke to the half snapped branch swarmed by the smouldering, orange flames. He did not shiver from the cold, but from rampant nerves that pertained to someone he was particularly fond of being there beside him. That person being you.

In a gloomy haze, stretched over sixteen years, the dependent vacant lot with all of its decaying junk left to rot had become his home away from home. It was somewhere he could come to in order to escape the harshness he had just down the street, riddled with its cluttered and intense violence. The one he had with his parents – if he could ever really call them that – had never been consumed with even an inkling of love or nurturing. It practically rotted away from the inside out with its creaky floorboards, dust riddled insides and the damp lining the walls like a thick winter scarf. A location where he was destined to be neglected in, for the only attention he obtained was to be hollered at by his mother when she was hacked off at whatever or whoever it was that particular time: Whereas his father brandished anything he could in hand to pelt him with. The thought made Johnny shudder, a sick nauseous feeling welling up inside of him. Slimy and cold.

However, not all was lost. There had been some silver linings in teaching him things such as love, loyalty and camaraderie: His gang of reliable buddies that would stretch to the ends of the Earth for him were the culprits. Although they had nothing too, they gave him everything he’d been missing. Well, almost everything. They were the sole reason he had not run away about a million times by now. They grounded him, created a net of safety and support that he never would have experienced otherwise if he had not been born in this very downtrodden neighbourhood. Yet they could not save him from everything – a harsh reality he came face to face with daily. Nothing and no one could ever replace the lacking love of his parents.

Nevertheless, the youthful greaser that looked as if he were a puppy that had been kicked one too many times had grown used to bumming around most nights on the busted leather car seat left to waste away in the lot. A frequent bed he now sat upon to gaze up at the glittering stars in the midnight haze of the dark sky. He pondered to himself, watching it while his most favourite person in the world sat off to his right. The silence between you both wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. Just off experiencing your own inner worlds whilst you enjoyed the other’s presence. Johnny wasn’t much of a talker as is. You understood the chips he had on the table and didn’t mind in the slightest, but you had your ways of getting him talking.

Despite the fact that he had a warmer and much more benevolent destination to crash at nightly: The Curtis House. He felt an immense pang of guilt and shame engulf him entirely at the thought of taking up that space. This house did not consume the same dreamy and abundant riches that one would desire at the core. Instead those fantasies were only destined for reality on the Wicked West Side of Tulsa, Oklahoma. “The home to the rich and greedy,” as Sodapop loved to put it.

Although the Curtis House lacked in material volume, it oozed a charm in its bare necessities and rundown appearance, with its peeling papered walls and well played piano that needed a miracle of tuning. What it lacked when it came to standardised beauty was made up for by its glowing warmth of love, companionship and acceptance of all the inhabitants that nestled under its rickety roof. It was a safe haven for anyone needing a place to lay low to avoid getting into trouble that could be avoided; a.k.a trouble with the law. Dallas and Steve were also regular inhabitants of the well loved couch perched up against the wall by the front door of the home: A product of powerful tempers that needed quenching. They found solace on that old, brown cushiony hunk of junk just as Johnny did when the nights grew too cold or unbearable on his lonesome.

Johnny stared up at Orion's Belt wondrously, remembering the time he'd heard Ponyboy rattle on about how he'd woken up to find the notorious Tim Shepard occupying his couch, reading the morning paper.

'Now, what in the hell was someone like Tim Shepard doin' on the Curtis’ couch?' Johnny thought silently.

Never had he bagged the likes of the eldest Shepard to reach out for a lifeline like that. It was almost unheard of, unfathomable. Tim was a handsome young man with a gnarly looking scar running from his temple to his chin. He was hard, cold and twisted. Jail, booze and all the criminal endeavours he had under his belt were like a morbid toolkit of how to be the best hoodlum out there. He looked about as capable of accepting charity as a lost soul in Hell. Then Johnny supposed that he never really knew him like Dally did. Johnny's silent disposition made it challenging for him to get close to anyone outside of his gang of buddies. Sometimes he preferred it this way, but usually he loathed it. Loneliness was easy in warping the soul of a good man.

From what Dally had told him of Tim Shepard, it'd be an immense knock to his swelling pride to reach out for help and have everyone aware of it. Inflated prides and fragile egos didn't do wonders for people with big mouths. Hence why Johnny kept his damn trap shut about it after Pony had told him.

'Man, he's gotta be pullin' my leg or somethin'.' He said internally before shaking his head.

Expelling a breath, Johnny settled back into the leather seat as comfortably as possible. He swore he'd get a bad back after opting to take the lumpy side of the car bench with the springs gnawing their way through. It had been the gentlemanly thing to do after all. He was a good guy with a good heart.

Warmth pervaded nicely from the reasonably sized fire he'd established in front of you both, but the chilly wind licked at any bare bits of skin daring to peer through tiny cracks in clothes. He hardly shivered outside of a nervous twitch. Perhaps that was only due to the fact he'd grown accustomed to the elements no matter the weather – unlike yourself.

Instead his charcoal eyes were doe-like, shakily flickering to his right where you sat. Only then in this moment did he fully come to the present moment, understanding the cold bit at your nose, ears and fingers in a way that looked cute. Yet despite your shivering that you so desperately attempted to hide, you sat there in all of your beautiful glory with only a few inches of space between you both. A comfortability you bathed in that seemed so raw, as if you were merely sitting on your living room couch with both of your knees and feet tucked under you and just off to the side. Peace prevailed from the tender smile gracing your features. A subconscious practice, you definitely seemed to be lost in your own thoughts. Johnny stared at you, and wondered what kind of movie was flashing behind those pretty eyes to have the sun dawn across your face like that. To him, all he could see was the vacant lot – a desolate place where only hoodlums would hang in droves, drawn in by its trashy grounds.

"You starin' cuz I got somethin' on my mug or it's just that ugly?" You grinned like a chessy cat, turning to look him directly in the eye. Thinking that being a wise cracker was funny.

Damn you and your perceptiveness.

Instantaneously Johnny ripped his gaze from yours, stiff as a plank. Embarrassment dashed across every cell in his body and left his lungs flat of oxygen. Man, if he thought his usual heartbeat was fast, what was happening inside of his chest right then must have been the speed of goddamn light!

All he could do was stammer out, "U-u-uh n-n-neither!" The poor guy sounded like Porky The Pig.

Your eyelids fluttered in astonishment at the stuttering mess of a young man he was. So jumpy. A mouse scuttling around on sharp eggshells. Part of you would've felt proud of your handiwork if it had been anyone else, but it was Johnny, your best friend. "Awe shucks, Johnny-cake," you offered him sheepishly, "I didn't tell you to stop. I was just messin' with ya. Gotta keep you on your toes somehow."

Messing with him? That was evident. He wasn't cross with you for pulling on his leg, just bothered by himself for getting caught out in the act. "S'okay, I g-get it." He shrugged, trying to play it cool whilst he stared into the portal to the Underworld.

"Penny for your thoughts?" You tried again, bumping him softly with your shoulder.

"Nothin' much," He lied smoothly, picking at the hole in his tennis shoe.

"You sure you ain't developin' the cure for cancer or somethin'? You're pretty smart." You inquired with a cheeky beam.

"Shoot! Do I look like I know what two plus two equals?" Johnny was getting a little bit sassy.

"Okay okay, I get it. I'll back off." You chortled.

'Yeah, thank goodness for that…' Johnny thought to himself. Suddenly he was uneasy with the idea of you ever discovering his little moments of staring at you because he loved the way you looked in candid moments like this one just passed. How did one go about saying these kinds of things? Johnny didn't know a lick. He was a dejected lost cause in the romance department. An awkward bump on a log. Felt he looked cruddy right about now too so he scratched the back of his head fervently for a second. No one really gave him a second glance. He was invisible and too quiet to be noticed.

Yet he failed to realise that you noticed him.

His forlorn expression had been obscured by his shaggy bangs that hung on his forehead. In fact, they no longer existed. You watched him struggle with something akin to wrestling a twenty foot gator inside of that skull of his. It made you feel funny on the inside, as if you were to blame. Diligently Johnny picked up the jagged stick he'd used to poke the flames with earlier. Started drawing in the dusty cold dirt at his feet. Back and forth, left and right, then round and round. A tedious therapeutic cycle.

'Yup, he's off to the moon again.' You thought. 'I'll give him a sec to recoup. I think I made him short circuit a little too hard.'

Just then the bleakness of the night pressed its breathy lips against you. You shivered in response, huddling unconsciously to Johnny for his radiator heat. Part of him was shaking too. The flames jolted haphazardly. A violent twirl of dead leaves kicked up into the air before the wind relented altogether and they fluttered into the fire that engulfed them. It was a beautiful sight indeed, albeit destructive. The elements typically were unforgiving. That was the cycle of life. Mother Nature worked in wondrous ways that went beyond the mere perception of the human mind. Ever evolving and always there. It had put a smile on your face, and Johnny looked at you once more.

"Now, you wanna give me a penny for your thoughts?" He asked.

You slowly turned to look at him, your smile unwavering, "And cash in my trade secrets when you won't give me yours? That don't tally up to me."

Johnny shrugged, trying to hide a ghost of a smile on his features, "You just caught me off guard that's all…"

"Oooooh so I got the element of surprise on my side?" You wiggled your eyebrows. "Who knew I was mighty smooth!"

Johnny rolled his charcoal eyes, shook his head with a laugh, "Don't get too big headed now," he warned.

"Why, cuz I'll float away?"

"Naw," Johnny shook his head, "You sound like Two-bit."

Your countenance fell from grace then; all of the humour drained completely, replaced with a sulk. "Now you just went and ruined it."

Johnny laughed heartily, "I dunno why you got it against him, yn. It was only fifth grade-,"

"Don't remind me of fifth grade! He put gum in my hair and you saw it." You warned with a finger pointed at him. “I looked like a coconut headed bum for two years, Johnny Cade! Two years I ain’t ever gonna get back.”

"Alright, alright! Don't shoot." He mumbled with a half smirk on his face.

"And don't laugh either. Who's side are you on anyway?" You mumbled with your arms folded over your chest.

Johnny met his match in attempting to swallow the laughter down, "Who knew you were this much of a sore loser," with a shake of his head.

"Sore loser my ass…" You retorted, looking off to the side like a petulant child.

All Johnny could do was laugh.

The sourness of your mood forced you to realise the lateness of the night. The cold showed its first signs of frost that danced mistily away from the firelight. You quivered fully this time, rubbing your nimble hands up and down your arms. "Are you cold?" Johnny finally had the courage to ask.

"Uh-huh! But I'll be okay."

"You know you don't have to tough it out for me, right?" Johnny said sincerely. "You shoulda brought a coat. It's November not August."

"I forgot, mom." You mumbled wryly.

"Man, don't call me that. It sounds strange." He pulled a face as he spoke.

"And why not?" You demanded.

"Cuz you sound like T-," He began, but you cut him off.

"Don't even think about saying that name!"

Despite himself, Johnny was laughing something awful. A grin spread across his face akin to a mixture of pride and victory. He'd bested you in the end and even you knew it. "You asshole-," You muttered, but it all bled through into your own sense of laughter that mingled with his.

Then it seemed to die down, a comfortable glow encasing you both. In the midst of it you hardly realised Johnny shimmying beside you – too caught up in the afterglow. But then an uncanny warmth of freshly worn denim was draped over your shoulders. Ghosts of fingertips touched the nape of your neck as it was laid there. Your head turned to find Johnny retracting his hands shyly and passing it off without a word. The gesture touched you, made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

"Why?" Your better judgement couldn't stop the question from flying out of your mouth.

Johnny squirmed uncomfortably under your focused stare, "I dunno…" he shrugged. "You were cold and didn't have a jacket. It was the right thing to do I guess."

The right thing to do. It made you beam beautifully then. Johnny Cade was always doing the right thing. Well, maybe not all the time when he was with his buddies, but usually he did. A good guy with a good heart that made yours flutter at the touch. The act of giving you his most prized possession really touched you in ways that made your eyes begin to water. You needed a second to blink them back. Hoping he hadn't noticed. Luckily he hadn't.

You thanked him in the only way you knew how to, by leaning your head on his shoulder. He stiffened to the touch, unfamiliar with it. Johnny wasn't much of a hugger, so physical contact was reserved for special moments. He allowed it this time and you felt his body shake, unsure with what to do with himself. Your fingers wrapped around his bicep, a reassuring squeeze so light it helped him realise you weren't going to hurt him. You never could. He was too special, too gentle, but wild in his own way when he let himself out freely. Yet the person he was now, the boy that gave you his jacket and talked with you the most; that was your Johnny Cade.

"Thank you, Johnny-cake." You whispered into the air, gently holding his hand and squeezing softly. It was sweaty.

"D-don't mention it." He swallowed, giving you an experimental squeeze back. "It's just my jacket, softie."

"Who you callin' softie?" You look up at him with a cocked eyebrow.

"You."

Silence befell you, and it was laced in a tranquil dose. Hushed whispers reverberated off of the caverns in your hearts, growing more prominent. All the giggles filled with the springy frolicking of baby lambs. Clumsy and endearing. Johnny lit a fire in you unmatched and vice versa. Young love that was mutual, but unknown to the other. You stayed with him for quite some time, until he walked you home. You'd sent him off with a wave after him shyly telling you to keep it. Made him promise not to sleep out in the cold, and Johnny kept his word. Slunk all the way to the Curtis House three hours before sunup to fortunately find it free. Rest was his, all with a smile screwed on tightly to his features.

Many more instances of thievery occurred with your pesky little fingers and the growing feelings that possessed you like a restless spirit. Time spent with Johnny became your drug of choice, and you could not get enough of him. No funny business was happening, it was just your personalities melding well together. You brought out a sassy part to him, and surprisingly he could keep up with you. Each meeting was set in colder conditions than the last. Forcing Johnny to bring in what little reinforcements he had. You either seemed to forget a jacket or your layers weren't nearly enough. His jacket was a chameleon's skin, bouncing from his shoulders to yours. His shirts were a comforting reminder of him when he wasn't around – shields against the bleakness of winter. His grey sweatshirt was your favourite. Everything began to accumulate.

One day you were both coming from the tracks in the Shepard outfit where a little creek was running through another vacant lot by an old abandoned factory. The water was still frozen and the trees were barren. All sorts of junk stuck to the frosty ground. It was kind of niche-like, a quiet place that seemed abandoned when the sun shone its rays upon Tulsa. It had been an accidental find during a summer day the year before. A superb place to explore when things were warmer and less soggy. Though it was apparent that neither of you had the courage to explore the dangerous insides of the abandoned warehouse in its entirety. Anyone could be lurking there, boobietrapped the innards to protect their stashed hoards. So the pair of you stuck to the outskirts towards the vacant lot beside it.

There you both were, sat upon a crumpled wall, admiring a winter's afternoon like a pair of Humpty Dumpty’s. The sun was bright in the sky, threatening to melt the world entirely. The first inklings of spring graced reality. The robins were chirping, hopping around in search of food nearby. Adorable feathered critters, so fluffy. They reminded Johnny of Christmas as one turned its neck beside him, curiously looking up into his black eyes. Both were inquisitive of the other.

"He looks like you-," your half whisper broke out into the air too loudly. The disturbance made the robin jolt and fly off.

Johnny sighed, "Man, he got so close this time. You just had to go and ruin it didn't you?"

"I'm sorry. Was there a spiritual connection happening? How rude of me!" You gasped with a hand over your heart.

He shook his head, grinning because he wasn't angry about it at all. "He was a cute little guy though…"

"Hence why I said he looked like you." You clarified.

Johnny exploded with a blush, shaking his head again, "You must've hit your head when you fell on the ice earlier."

"My head is not any worse off than it was before, thank you very much!" You defended yourself.

"You know, the first sign of someone tellin’ porkies is denial, right?"

"I am not tellin’ porkies!"

"Are too-," Johnny countered, nudging you with his elbow.

"Am not!"

Falling back into that effortless banter made you both grin like chessy cats. It was silly, but very much needed. You knew Johnny got extra embarrassed whenever you'd start complimenting him, especially in the looks department. You didn't say these things just to throw him off, but because you truly meant them. Johnny was cute. One of the cutest guys you'd seen in a longtime. Maybe he wasn't moviestar handsome like Sodapop, but girls were missing out when they overlooked him. He had his own things to bring to the table; loyalty, kindness, abiding the law… Just to name a few. You suddenly shook these thoughts out of your head, deciding if you went too deeply down this path that it was best not to be done in Johnny’s presence. Lest you were to blabber about it like you'd done to your other friends who'd told you to ask him out already. They just didn't understand how delicate the matter was really. Johnny wouldn't say yes anyway.

"Hey look! Those cats are back," Johnny quietly hissed by your side, pulling you out of your daze.

You followed his line of sight and sure enough the two male felines were there. Lithe in nature and mean looking. A skinny orange tabby trotted forward, a snaggle tooth protruding from his mouth. By his side was his black Bombay counterpart, scraggy bodied with dirty fur and a distinct chip taken from his ear. They were silent, far from their former glory days when they knew what a good home was. The Bombay was a little bigger than his cheddar companion, and it was easily understood by any human looking in that a pact had been formed between them through a necessity to survive. The pair of you had spied them before, a distrusting set that initially hissed and growled. They were all claws and teeth so you kept your distance to avoid any surprise visits to the clinic. However now they seemed to tolerate your presence, acting as if the silence you exuded exempted your existence. Johnny and you admired them, goofy grins on your faces, because the cats were ready to commit their timely crime of hunting for some grub of the day. You knew who they reminded you of.

"Well if that ain't Dally and Tim," You consciously made the effort to whisper.

Johnny nodded in agreement, "Yeah, I can see it."

"Which one's which?" You asked, genuinely curious about Johnny's take.

He was reluctant to take his eyes off the cats, watching them begin prowling forth towards an unsuspecting robin. "Huh?" he hummed, finally looking at you just as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

"Which cat is Dally and which one is Tim? You know 'em better than I do." You pressed softly.

"Oh, that's easy, Dally's the ginger tabby and Tim's the Bombay." He offered with a nod of his head in the felines direction.

"What why?" You demanded it up at him.

“Well if we’re goin’ off their looks for a start, Tim looks like the Bombay cat. Guy is a real alley cat – got a lot of street smarts and carries himself well. Besides, he's tougher than a bag of nails.” Johnny did have a point – Tim looked just like that black cat with his curly jet hair.

Speaking of the black cat, it had entered a state of hunting, kneeling down with coiled taught muscles – just ready to pounce on that unsuspecting robin below, pecking at the seeds you and Johnny had left behind earlier. You hoped it wouldn’t be eaten, couldn’t stomach to see something so savage. However, you supposed that was only the way the circle of life worked.

“The orange tabby’s Dally cuz of that cool look in his eyes. The way he carries himself so freely. Out of the two, the tabby’s the one that’s in charge somehow. He writes the rules that the other cat’s always tryna best.” Johnny offered with a brief shrug before continuing, “Not that the black cat is following any rules. Both have minds of their own.”

Boy, you could really hear the way he admired Dallas Winston from the way he spoke about the orange tabby. It was wholesome. Dally was Johnny’s hero — the kid practically worshipped the ground the guy walked on. You didn’t see why. To you, Dallas Winston was a rotten hoodlum with a track record of breaking the law in every way, shape and form that he could. He frightened you like The Boogeyman had when you were nine. Where you both engaged with each other somewhat cordially, you preferred to keep your distance. You supposed that you had no room to judge after all. There was a deep friendship that had developed between him and Johnny; you’d seen it in Dally’s cold hard eyes… affection. It made you grin then, wondering if Johnny thought strangely of your heroes too.

“And both of them are jackasses.” You countered, bumping his shoulder mischievously.

Johnny laughed a little, looking at you for a few short moments. “Yeah alright, I’ll give you that.”

You liked the way he’d described the two though. It was a statement that fit the pair of hoodlums in a peapod together. Yet the orange tabby did appear to be the leader as it licked its wonky chops delectably. Inched closer by the second, a silent assassin to carry out its hunter gatherer lifestyle. It was intelligent, mimicking the movement of the robin that had caught onto it. It lured the bird on a swift and winding course, swiping for it good and hard but missed. Never mind. The robin fluttered up and into the line of sight of the black cat, a moment of fear in its beady eyes. Yet just as the night-like feline swept its razors at it, the robin burst into the air and flew off in the opposite direction. It had missed its meal by a feathers length. Every other robin in the vicinity flew off instantly, leaving the two cats dumbfounded.

In frustration, the orange tabby yowled and darted forth. Its clawed paw zipped out and popped the mouth of the black cat. The black cat hissed, stunned for a mere second before it lunged for the only comrade it had in this god forsaken world. The two tumbled together in an infuriated Halloween special of blurred fur. A gasp floated from your mouth as they rolled back and forth. A genuine cat fight unheard of. They sounded like two ghouls trying to out spook the other – alien and loud.

Johnny couldn’t help but laugh out of nervousness. He wasn’t trying to be cruel whatsoever. Didn’t like to see animals fighting and hurting each other, but it humoured some sick part of him. “Just like Dally and Tim, huh? Buddies one minute then at each other’s throats the next.”

“Amen to that.” You found the humour of the situation, only because it was too similar to the real life hoodlums you both knew.

You’d seen your fair share of those guys beefing it out in the past together in The Dingo parking lot, let alone practically in your own backyard. They were a strange duo – too competitive and cut from the same cloth. They’d never find another person just like them, that was for sure.

Just then an icy gust came throttling through the area, reminding you both that it was still winter. A tremor ran through the pair of you, and you huddled together for warmth. By now the cats had slumped off to their own corners of the lot, hissing and growling as they went. Sore egos and bodies made them sulk and mewl in the shade whilst they licked their wounds.

“Dammit-,” your teeth chattered, moving closer to Johnny. “March my ass…”

Johnny breathed a laugh, shaking his head. He scanned your features humorously, those bushy brows hidden by a thick blanket of his black greasy bangs that flopped onto his forehead.

“What?” You mumbled, your fingertips unconsciously reached for him in the space between you both. Johnny didn’t notice.

He stared at you for a good three seconds before opening his mouth to speak, “How can you be cold with all those layers you got on?”

“Well I mean it’s obvious, it’s winter.”

“Uh-huh-,” Johnny sassed, smirking slightly, “As if you ain’t wearin’ my shirt, my sweater and my jeans jacket too. Got the whole department store on your back.”

Abashment took hold of you as your gaze dropped down to inspect yourself. There was Johnny’s jacket on you, and underneath his tattered grey sweater, that black t-shirt poking up above the collar. And Johnny? He was adorned in a wrinkled white shirt with a blue and creamy egg yellow flannel over the top you guessed was one of the gang’s. Worn over that was Dally’s brown leather jacket with the cosy sheepskin lining. You pouted with a bruised ego, looking off to the side, “It’s not like you’re naked or nothin’…” you murmured petulantly.

Johnny chuckled breathily, your joined hands jostling as he tugged on it without any semblance of awareness, as if to gain your attention. “Not yet, but I’m gonna be! Man, do you know what I had to say to get this jacket from Dally?” He was teasing you.

“Mmmppppffff…” you grunted, crossing your legs on that wall.

“The guys are askin’ questions and I dunno what to tell ‘em any more!” His voice broke a bit before he continued, “Two thinks I’m preparin' to run down the centre of town butt naked!”

That made you burst out into fits of giggles. The thought was so unorthodox it was hilarious. “You’re tellin’ him that’s the truth right? God, could you imagine? I can see the news articles now: Johnny Cade, Teenage Delinquent Gone Buck Wild!” You beamed, throwing your free hand out to elaborate some unseen picture.

Johnny shook his head again, laughing with you, “Man, you’re just as bad as Soda!”

“I’m twice as good looking too!” You offered with all the cheekiness you could muster.

All he could offer was an entertained roll of his eyes. Your shoulders bumped together, old comrades turned into something more. His soft gaze fell onto your interwoven fingers, and his heart fluttered like dove wings. A widened gaze, then that notorious blush exploded under that tanned flesh. His mind was incapable of functioning. It was wholesome, but you read everything wrong. Made a move to release his hand and he stopped you.

"Don't." It was the strongest word you'd heard from him as he held your hand tighter than he ever had before. Not enough to hurt you, but to let you know it was real too.

"Y-you sure?" It was your turn to stutter.

The look he shared with you may have been wavering to some degree, but there was certainty in those eyes. His mouth opened to speak, "Yeah, I don't mind one bit."

I don't mind one bit. It ran round and round in your head. A starstruck expression invaded your beautiful countenance. The reassurance was a bonus that made your belly fill with a plethora of butterflies. Cloud nine had nothing on this moment.

Johnny explored the expressions flitting across your face with a newfound sense of wonder. That pleasant delight racing through you was infectious as you stared off into the junk riddled vacant lot, your mind preoccupied with his hand in yours. The sun dawned across your features once again, like that autumn night you'd spent with him in your neighbourhood's vacant lot. The understanding that he was the source of that made his belly squirm, a giddiness overcoming him. He could no longer deny the fondness he had for you so blatantly.

With him leaning a little closer to you, he whispered, "How about you give me at least some of my stuff back?"

"Mmmmm maybe,"

"yn-," there was an uncommon sense of sternness in his voice.

"But-," You tried objecting.

"No buts-," he rushed out with a shake of his head, "At least give me one! I've been wearing this shirt for three days now!" He was hilariously incredulous.

"Is that why you stink?" You taunted him.

"Not funny-," He made his best attempt to be cross with you.

"Okay, okay! I'll give them back." You said begrudgingly.

"You better bring the cavalry with how much you have stolen from me, you little shirt thief."

"In my defence, you did give them to me… But I'll have them for you next time I see you, scouts honour!" You spoke sincerely with your free hand held dramatically over your heart.

"Uh-huh, that's what you said last time and I still didn't get 'em back." He bantered.

"Well, that wasn't a real scout's honour." You admitted with a diffident rub to the back of your head.

"yn-," he shook his head.

"Hey! I'm serious this time."

"Good…" He trailed off, his other hand beginning to play with the rings banded around your fingers absentmindedly.

Blissfulness carried upon the wind, a promise of returning what wasn't yours already settled. Golden light broke through the clouds, catching Johnny in the face directly, which made him grimace evidently. You grew lost in his handsome physique, feeling the pad of his thumb drag up and down the back of your hand. The sensation was special, because Johnny had warmed up to you so much.

It was a lively Saturday night, and with the determined honour of a scout member, you showed up like clockwork with a bag filled with Johnny's things. It was just as the crowds at The Nightly Double encroached upon the Tulsa streets in boisterous droves. Everyone was high on the giddy delight of the movie they had just watched – the late night viewing of two specials before the drive-in closed its doors for the night. Previous arrangements with another friend had you missing out on the fun, but here you were wearing your very own leather jacket with Johnny's denim one bunched up nervously in the palms of your hands. Speaking of Johnny, he had tagged along with the gang – minus Darry, because movies seemed to bore the older man to death.

A pair of scrawny looking Socy guys stalked out of the front doors, acting like big shots, cutting in front of a dark green Corvair on its way out and into the oncoming traffic. The driver of the same social class hung out of the driver's window whilst his girl attempted to pull him back in.

"Hey watch it, wise guys! If you're lookin' to get your asses run over, then be my guests and step back in my line of sight!" He snarled aggressively before his girlfriend won the battle and pulled him back inside to tell him to "knock it off".

A line began to form behind them as the couple argued incessantly, presumably over the guy's foul temper. Car horns honked on the spring breeze, forcing the guy to nervously step on the gas. They almost crashed into a Chevy Impala before zipping off home. You could see the animated scowl of the girl refusing to talk to her boyfriend in the side view mirror as they retreated. She glowered at you as if you were the scum of the earth. It didn't make you feel too hot.

The two wisecracking Soc's cackled at their attempts at being hard, stalking forth when they caught sight of your lonesome form. Vile cackles were shot your way as they walked past you before deciding the better option was to encircle you like a couple of hammerhead sharks.

'Boy, these dingbats don't know what tree they're barking up.' You thought, stiffening your body up for any form of unexpected physical contact. You weren't gonna let yourself get blown over that easy.

"What's up, greaser? You lookin' to bum around on our streets?" The six foot tall pencil with the sour breath sneered down at you, bumping your shoulder, making a come around to your left. When he disappeared behind you, the other one with chestnut hair the texture of straw invaded your face.

"Yeah, who said you were allowed round these parts anyway?" He jeered, smacking his gum obnoxiously.

Typically these dorks wouldn't have been graced with so much of your attention, but being on your own with a whole sea of onlookers made you weary. However you sure didn't show it. No one was there to stand up for you so you had to do it yourself. All you could do was raise your eyebrows, feeling the burning sense of humiliation rise from the pits of hell beneath your feet. It felt toasty, but the wrong kind. A glower of pure vexation was sent up their way. 'Who are these cocky jackasses, anyway? I've got the same right to use these streets like anyone else!' You contemplated.

"Oh really? I never knew white trash chequerboards like yourselves owned the streets everybody walks on." Your lips flapped wryly before you could even say a word.

The entertained gazes of onlookers of every social class stopped to stare. Murmurs of speculation broke out: Two against one didn't typically seem like a fair fight, but with the sheer scrawniness of the socially elite, it seemed to look like the chips fell in your favour. Though you knew appearances could be deceiving, harbouring a surprising sense of physical strength.

In a rift of the crowd, six pairs of familiar eyes honed in on your shining moment of unprovoked confrontation.

"White trash chequerboards?!" The pencil growled out, sharing a glance with his straw haired counterpart. For the most part they were dumbfounded, not having expected you to stand up for yourself.

"If anyone's white trash, it's you, greaseball." The second one jutted his finger in your face.

Nothing about your countenance betrayed you. Cold and detached you stared at that finger in your face with a deep sense of boredom. Then an almost smug smirk etched your features as you stared up into his grey eyes.

"Oh my, my!" A dripping sense of mocking venom entered your tone. "Seems like I got more class than that finger you got pointed at me. Seriously, you got a licence to be armed with carryin' that thing? You better watch what you do with it before it falls into the wrong hands. You know, because with great power comes great responsibility and all." You were armed with so much sass it made you invincible.

The crowd surrounding you burst into a fit of laughter so potent that it burnt these punks into a startled pile of ash. The pair of Soc's were so vapid that they were a bore even to themselves, which is why they were acting out as if they were five times their sizes. You were lively, armed with a silver tongue that could slice just about anyone to pieces who tried to humiliate you.

"Oh yeah, you little punk?" The first one growled, invading all sense of your personal space.

You took one step back, your eyebrows raised, "It's his responsibility, not mine. Whatch'yu gettin' all riled up for, eh? Can't take a joke, Mister Funny?"

"I'll show you a joke when I knock your two front teeth out." He barked.

Oooh's and aaah's broke through the crowd on a symphony of guffawing. You cocked one eyebrow up at him, a cockiness overcoming you. What could you do otherwise? If no one had your back, you had to have your own. That was just the way the cookie crumbled when you were a greaser – if there was a cookie at all.

"Oooooh~ Don't threaten me with a good time, pencil dick." You snorted. "I will bend your ass like a goddamn pretzel before you can even have a chance to beg for your mommy to save you."

The two guys shared a look, the degradation burning their senses of pride to withering embers. Their faces were pinkened beyond recognition, boarding on a fiery red. Your insults only poured gasoline on the fires. They couldn't back out now with the engrossed mass around the three of you. Your body stiffened as they went to grab you, preparing yourself for a fight that would no doubt cause the fuzz to come shutting it down. The image of yourself being cuffed in the back of a cop car had you overcome with a sense of terror. You weren't made for jail with your sharp tongue and sass. Wouldn't last two seconds flat in a grim place like that.

Before any contact could occur, a boisterous New York accent throttled into the air, a familiar arm slinking over your shoulders, "Hey Dumb and Dumber, you really wanna go gettin' your asses handed to you by a girl in front of all of these people?" Dallas was snickering with a smoke hanging out of his mouth, leaning against you smoothly as he patted your upper arm, but he wasn't your only saviour.

The other five lean and hard looking members of the Curtis gang had rolled up in all of their greasy headed glory. Pony and Johnny were Dally's flanks whilst Sodapop and Steve jammed themselves on either side of the pathetic turkeys that had bothered you. Two-bit prowled like a cat, that smug, wild grin carved onto his handsome features. The oldest of the six came in the centre of the perpetrators, an arm slung on each of their shoulders. It was overly friendly, even for Two.

"Well, well, well, if it ain't the socially elite barking up a tree they didn't know was a mountain! I'd get your eyes checked if I were you." He laughed, squeezing them together under his impressive arms. The others joined in.

"I think it's time these tuff lookin' sons of bitches got in the ring with the big shots." Steve yipped sarcastically, clapping the straw haired guy on the back a little too roughly.

"Lookin' like a bunch of heavyweight champs, am I right?" Soda leered, his once kind blue eyes filled with a mischievous malice.

The two Soc's looked at each other, realising they'd made a mistake in targeting you. "We don't want any trouble." The first one said, fumbling.

"Yeah! We was only just jokin' around." The other made a pitiful attempt at joining in on the laughter.

"Oh really now?" Dally quipped through dragon's breath, plucking his smoke from his lips and wiping the back of his index finger under his nose like he was annoyed. "I call bullshit, beanpole. Ain't that right, Johnny?" Dally asked Johnny, motioning towards him.

With a black gaze as cold as obsidian, Johnny nodded his head, "Sure thing, Dally." He refused to take his gaze off of the perpetrators who recognised that hoodlum's menacing name anywhere.

"Pony?" Dally turned, looking over your head at the fourteen year old greaser with the greyish green eyes. He put that smoke back in between his lips and inhaled sharply.

"Yup!" Pony popped the 'p' at the end of the word.

"Great, it's settled!" Dally exclaimed, pulling his arm from over your shoulders and rubbing his hands together like a fly with an evil plan. He stepped forward, his face a mere couple of inches from theirs. "You dumbasses get to go toe to toe with me for fucking with the wrong person, and then my buddies will have what's left of you. How do you like the sound of that?"

The way Dally seethed it even had you shaking in your boots. There was almost a sense of honour riding on your guts. It wasn't everyday that Dallas Winston was standing up for you, but when it happened you took it willingly. The two guys had become pale ghosts, shuddering with sweat dewing their foreheads. Dally meant those words, but it seemed he was mainly toying with them. So were the rest of the gang too. With matching Cheshire grins plastered on their faces they watched as the two shoved past Soda, tripping over the boot Johnny had stuck out and shot in through an opening in the crowd to salvation. Sent to faceplant on the ground with a series of laughter as the drama seemed to be over for the most part and people lost interest.

"Where are you goin'? Wait until we set her on ya!" Sodapop called, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders.

"Yeah, she may seem like she’s all bark, but she's got one hell of a bite!" Steve cackled.

Lost in an ocean of chaos, Johnny's inquiry of concern for you slithered back down his throat. He bled into the background, admiring the way your eyes rolled as the wisecracking descended upon you.

"The hell was that, kid?" Dally said between inhaling his smoke. Rubbing the top of your head with his ringed fingers awarded him with a generous shove from you. His treatment hurt, but he was happy to see you, which was unusual.

"Get offa me-," You grunted and he eventually relented.

Before Steve could chime in about you being a smart ass or wandering around on your lonesome, your most dreaded member of the gang came blundering on over. A half drunken stupor holding him up by some invisible string, "Haha! Where did you learn to talk like that? Dare I say you got some inspiration from somebody in particular?" He waggled his eyebrows at you.

"Oh, well ain't those the biggest words you’ve ever said! Ugh, don’t make me sick, two cents." You bit at him.

"Eh, at least I'm worth somethin' in this world." He chuckled, clapping your shoulder.

"That was meant to be an insult." You retorted.

"Really? That's a whole compliment and a half!" He exclaimed with his arms thrown up.

"Yeah yn, I sure can hear the church bells ringin' right now!" Soda grinned at you, cupping his free hand over his ear. In fact, to seal the deal he wrapped his arm around your shoulders as the seven of you began walking to your neighbourhood.

Steve came up on the other side, walking the tight line of the curb, "From haters to lovers!" He beamed, spreading his palms out in the open space before you like he was presenting a far away picture. "It all started when you were in fifth grade and he was in sixth, gum to the hair, a pop to the mouth and the rest was history!"

Johnny listened and observed, laughing halfheartedly along with his buddies. Something about Soda's and Steve's words tugged on his heartstrings in a plucking fashion. It was uncomfortable and didn't sit right with him. Yet he couldn't be too mopey about it, it wasn't like anybody knew his growing feelings for you. By now there was a confusion in your friendship, as if all these special moments you'd experienced together had evolved the friendship into something else. He was afraid of what that meant. Things would never be the same ever again, and he found himself eyeing up the bag full of his clothes on your shoulder and his jeans jacket wadded into your hand.

Well, at least your promise had been genuine this time.

If you weren't riled up before you were now. A sucker punch to the gut was minutely dodged by Steve, who hopped to safety behind Dallas like a kangaroo. Being surrounded by people you knew was nice as the mood settled somewhat. Johnny found his natural place to the left of you, keeping in time with your easy pace.

Sodapop raised his eyebrows and asked the question everyone had been wondering, "Hey yn, what were you doing there all alone?"

"Ain't that Steve's line?" You quipped.

“Gettin’ to be more and more like Ponyboy everyday, yn!” Steve warned, messing up Pony’s hair for comedic relief.

Pony was certainly not pleased, pulling his comb out of his back pocket and using the sideview mirror of a car to fix his hair in the dark. “Stupid Steve…” grumbled past his lips.

“What was that?” Steve barked next to Soda.

“Nothin’, said I looked stupid…” He lied with burnt cheeks and ears to match.

"That's what I thought, little guy." Steve stared at him.

Once the commotion had somewhat settled Dally eyed you up and spoke through his smoke, “Soda’s got a point. What were you doing there?” He noticed that bag over your shoulder and whistled, “Did your goody two shoes ass get kicked out or are you just droppin’ by to bid your farewells on us common folk before you skip town?”

Put on the spot, you hesitated for a second, “Uh, I just came to see Johnny.”

“With the entire mall's inventory?” Two grinned wickedly, pressing for more information. "Johnny's become quite the charity case lately." He teased, noogying Johnny playfully who shrugged him off with a small laugh.

“Hey wait a sec, isn't that Johnny’s jeans jacket?” Pony spoke up once his precious hair had been rearranged.

Dallas’s pesky fingers swiped the jacket in your hands with a mind of his own – and like a chimp, he examined its authentication closely. The five other members gathered around him as if he held the fifth wonder, which left you and Johnny with the liberation of simultaneously backing up at the edges of the throng. “You wanna make a break for it?” You hissed your suggestion at Johnny, who nodded his head.

That’s when five heads whipped up with dumbfounded expressions. This was Johnny’s jacket! The one he said he’d lost. Soda’s eyes were the first to eye up that bag strapped to your shoulder, a familiar grey sweater poking out through the zipper that wouldn't close properly. “Hold on one stinkin’ minute.” Realisation hit him with a dopey grin.

Two caught on next, his hand grasping the bag strap and pulling it from your shoulder. In the same motion he’d freed the grey sweater from the confines, only to find more clothes underneath. “Haha!” He cackled noisily, “You’re the one who’s been swiping his clothes? You sly fox!”

“Johnny and yn sitting in a tree-,” Steve cackled, only to get cut off by Dally who smacked him in the chest.

“What are you man, four?”

“Four?! I’ll show you four!”

“Oh glory-,” You mumbled, looking at Johnny, “I think I made a mistake.”

“You think?” He hissed, his tone was somewhat biting, looking scared stiff for the incoming of terrible teasing.

"Johnny's got a girlfriend! Johnny's got a girlfriend!" Soda and Two started chanting, patting and shaking their pal with enthusiasm. It wasn't long before the other three started in on it too. The chant of the year belted out from strong chests on shrill wails of hyena laughter.

"Check him out, famous ladies man! I knew you had it in ya Johnny." Dally clapped his back.

"Should've known you were stealing my girl, Johnny." Two teased. "You can have her the first five days of the week, but I call dibs on weekends! That's when she gets extra sassy."

"In your dreams, two shits." You barked.

"I dream of sixth grade every night!" Two swooned, making you laugh.

Johnny was as red as a beet, even Ponyboy couldn’t contain his laughter. 'Boy, do we have something to tell Darry!' Pony's and Soda's eyes gleamed dazzlingly.

"Eh, guess you won't be needing this!" Dally grinned from behind you both, softly tugging on his leather jacket Johnny was wearing. In one fell swoop it was off of his shoulders and draped over Dally’s humble forearm.

“Here you go, young sire!” Sodapop bowed with a roll of his hand, an English accent flawlessly executed.

In came Steve on one knee, holding up the humble denim article he'd swiped from Dally's pesky digits. “Oh Johnny, with all of my love for you, will you take this humble offer?” he exclaimed dramatically.

Johnny snatched the jacket from Steve’s gripey hands, along with the bag of his shirts you’d brought along from Two-bit. He was embarrassed, that was evident. Wished you’d done this at a different time, but hey, duty called; a promise was a promise. Scout’s honour, right?

Without even thinking he grabbed your hand in his, reeling you away from the madness, all sassy. “Alright, that’s enough now!”

A chorus of wolf whistles expelled into the air. Wildness evident in the five guys who'd grown up with the both of you. They were just playing of course, excited that Johnny finally had a lady in hand. It wasn't often the raven haired greaser picked someone up, let alone initiated any physical contact – romantically of course. Johnny had always been quite reserved, but here he was taking the initiative, pulling you around in the opposite direction of them. Surprisingly assertive despite him shaking like a goddamn ghost.

You guys got maybe a few feet away when Dallas called out on the wind, “Hey yn, you better not be takin’ off the clothes on Johnny's body or he’ll be arrested for public indecency!”

"I said that's enough!" Johnny called back, heat vivid on his cheeks.

With that you both escaped around the next corner, the gang's calls and laughter fading into the background. Dipped into an alleyway to lose them for good. Glory knew they'd follow you both, and Johnny couldn't bear the thought of that. There was exhilaration in your chests. Johnny's hand was hot and sweaty in yours when you wound onto Pickett and Sutton. The air felt tight and you were afraid you'd just made an inconsolable mess of everything.

“Honest to God Johnny, that wasn’t planned-,”

He was sour, scrunching up his face, “Shoulda just let you keep these things.” He said with a smile pulling up the corners of his mouth. “They looked better on you anyway.”

“Johnny Cade,” you gasped, stopping in the middle of the street, the yellow light from above illuminating you both, “was that you flirting with me?”

Albeit clumsy, he was endearing. “Maybe, I dunno.” His cheesy grin warmed your heart.

All you could do was gawk at him.

“Look, all I know is that I kinda don’t mind you stealing my crap, okay?”

“So I have special authority to steal? What is this, a secret mission for your girlfriend?” You grasped onto his arm, leaning into him.

Girlfriend settled in the air in a peculiar fashion. It had never been uttered before, you both had just been friends up until this point. The confusion between you both seemed to fizzle away. The term sounded right. Johnny didn't want to be your friend any more, the guy on the sidelines dreaming of being with you. He swallowed thickly, looking at you.

"I'm sorry I-," he cut you short.

"Nah don't be." He shook his head softly.

"So uh," you breathed a laugh, "that means we're like dating? " You tested the word on your tongue.

He exploded with a blush, and a sense of pride swelled in your heart. "Y-yeah-," he nodded softly.

It went quiet, but nothing was awkward about it. Two hearts galloped like wild horses through summer filled fields. You found the courage to speak first, whispering mischievously into his ear, "So what about that secret mission?"

Johnny rolled his eyes, but breathy humour expelled from his lips, “Operation Shirt Thief!” He said in his best movie man trailer voice.

You burst out in a fit of giggles, the walk home feeling bountiful and warm.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

please like, reblog and follow for more!

requests: closed!

#johnnycade #johnny cade #johnny cade x reader #johnny cade imagines #johnny cade headcanons #the outsiders #the outsiders imagines #the outsiders headcanons #the outsiders x reader #the outsiders johnny cade #the outsiders johnny cade x reader #the outsiders johnny cade imagines #the outsiders johnny cade headcanons #i hope you enjoyed!!

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katyspersonal · 1 month ago

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Idk if you have enough to say since he’s a fairly minor character but can you give thoughts on the Hornsent (NPC)? I love him so much and I absolutely agree that he’s a huge parallel to Marika herself and I wanna hear more of your thoughts on that and him in general!

Hey, he is not THAT minor! xD All seven NPCs that were attracted by Miquella and are our guides through SOTE's lore are pretty much in the spotlight! Elden Ring's story just has these important Demigods and characters more strongly involved with them that their gravity makes it harder to focus on the Little Guy 😔 (and all Thiollier fans laughed sfdhfdh)

Okay so uhhh, I will post observations and thoughts in order, because yeah, with this guy you sort of need to pay attention twice or something?

1) He originates from Belurat

The kind of mask he is wearing could've created some confusion, but "the tower" exclusively refers to Belurat in the lore!

Freyja states this much at the beginning, and it is admittedly easy to forget because most likely you check this dialogue just on the first playthrough and before what 'tower' is clicks properly.. but yeah!

A more bold evidence here is that Hornsent will recognise the meal that is trademark of Belurat!

2) Don't be confused though, Grandam is not his mother!

He states in dialogues upon being killed by Leda and if he was not summoned to fight Messmer that his child, wife and mother were killed during Crusade!

2.1) He doesn't mention father nor gender of a child, though?

I think this on itself is interesting, and opens a bit more for potential backstory! His father might have been dead before the Crusade, or... maybe even divorced. x) Or maybe, he survived the Crusade, like Hornsent himself, but perished for another reason; maybe old age, maybe even upon seeking revenge as well? It would still make sense for him to not mention his father even then, because he would not count as massacred IN purge of the Tower!

Saying 'child', not 'son' or 'daughter', also gave me a kinda fucked up idea, listen! What if this means something? For example, his wife was merely pregnant, or the purge happened at the time when she just gave a birth, so he never learned whether it was a son or a daughter? I know I should not make it even darker than it already was, and it is probably just to specify the 'status' (he does say 'wife' rather than calling her by the name, after all)... But imagine...

In any case, his child was still very little! In Japanese he refers to his child as '幼子よ', and I checked... Yeah, it refers to basically an infant, it seems!

3) He is very reluctant to make a connection, even under spell!

After Tarnished gives him the Scorpion Stew, he gives them Furnace Visage (useful item for killing two Furnace Golems that can't be killed normally and to "wake up" one blocking the way in Ruins of Unte). His motivation is, "I desire not to be in your debt"!

And he refuses if you try to give him another Scorpion Stew:

The last phrase (お前と、慣れ合うつもりもな…) is more accurately says something like "I have no intention of getting used to you"! The only thing Miquella's spell did was to give him hope, but he can't open up even to "comrades"!

4) He is not likely to be a potentate, despite his mask!

He is wearing the mask that is otherwise worn by potentates, however, there is something else about potentates:

By the practice of his village of birth! It looks like this is basically a "family business" inherited through generations, something Hornsent already is probably excluded from, since he is one of the people of Belurat!

I think the simpler explanation for why he has this mask is not its context but its practical purpose: "to ward off thoughts and distractions (from his honorable quest of revenge)"! He must remain focused on vengeance; no friends, no falling into despair, no "wax nostalgic 'bout days gone by"... I also played around with the idea that this mask was from his mysterious never-mentioned father rather than something he picked somewhere! Maybe he was one of those Potentate barbarians that somehow climbed social ladder a bit by marrying a woman from Belurat! Don't know whether it is something possible in this society, it is hard to tell :p

Hornsent also doesn't use trademark weapon of Potentates, their butchering knife, but his weapon Falx - something created with the purpose of vengeance! I think it implies that he was not even a fighter before, and only started to wield weapon to begin with FOR vengeance!

4.1) He must not oblivious to where it comes from, though, so what does it say about his character?

Regardless of whether the mask comes from, I doubt he doesn't know its actual origin! I am positive that the people who executed Shamans are long ago dead, but the practice itself is alive. Besides, even Hornsent themselves get this treatment if they've convicted:

So you'd wonder what he is feeling avenging "his beloved people" who put other people in jars, and whether there is some hypocrisy, right? Well, I THOUGHT there was some awareness:

It makes it sound as though he is, at the same time, aware that his folks are not perfect either, and believes in Miquella's new world to fix their flawed, even barbaric culture as well, right? I double checked for Japanese text, and I do not really see it as translation mistake?

ミケラが、その誓いを違えず、一族をも救う神となるのなら

一族を、救って…

In Japanese, he uses 救, which means to 'save' or religious kind of 'salvation'! To 'redeem' doesn't seem to be too far removed from original meaning, but I'd say this gives off more of the vibe of 'salvation' that is justice for the martyred, for those who were murdered unfairly! Justice of God upon sinners and to help out the victims, rather than the 'cleanse our sins' kind of 'salvation'!

Maybe I am looking at it through the wrong angle, but I also kind of like this interpretation more! He is not exactly in the mindset to question imperfections or straight up hazardous religious practices of his nation when the wound of losing his own family, and countless other families being burnt in "cleansing" is what defines his whole life now! Hornsent culture deserves to be criticised, but it is not his priority for the long time now, maybe never again, and it is fair enough!

^ Another line pointing towards him certainly not having "criticism" towards his clan nor intending to, as this is translated very plainly:

…よくも、我らを汚物と呼んだものだどちらが真に汚物なのか、自分でも知っていただろうに！

5) He disrespects Leda without crossing her boundaries

He never once addresses her by name! It is not just how he is, as he addresses not just Miquella by name, but also Marika and Messmer, his sworn enemies! However, Leda he addresses only as:

The thing is, she is not just Leda, she is Lady Leda! She has the title by her knightly status, and calling her by the name is something reserved only to either close people or those who wants to be an asshole on purpose x)

He surely would not call her Lady, and it could be not quite personal but just because he chronically dislikes Tarnished! But he also would not shorten the mental distance between them by using her name without honorfic. I think it is a neat detail!

6) He doesn't use the flasks to heal!

I actually only learned it from @slavonicrhapsody here ( x ) as I was not paying attention, but, yeah! Developers actually bothered to differentiate him by not having him use flasks, a thing of the Erdtree, that fits the lore!

7) His invasion location might be not coincidental!

Hornsent still invades us even if we helped him to complete his revenge upon Messmer because FromSLOP hates us and our desired bonds with the characters in case you haven't noticed that upon finding dead bodies of Ansbach and Thiollier lmao. But his invasion location is particularly quite close where Romina is, and in the place full of Scarlet Rot+! And Romina is herself form Belurat!

Perhaps, even though he called us a "comrade-in-arms", maybe meeting her made him turn upon us after all? Sure, he does say that after all, he doesn't wish Miquella's help but only vengeance upon everyone under Erdtree, but come on, dude, we are friends now!

But maybe meeting another Belurat survivor face to face after a long time knocked him back to his previous mindset harder, and he decided that "no, not a single person of Marika's world deserves to be spared, not even my comrade that helped me"! As opposed to just thinking up of a change of a heart on his own! It is one thing to keep the 'idea' of victims he is avenging in his mind as his compass, but another to meet one face-to-face, to see her living in the ruins now and latching onto twisted Eldrich God of endless death-and-rebirth that was not meant to be released similarly to Formless Mother! This is a far cry from Hornsent's religion and their worship of Divine Beasts from Heaven, Romina is "ruined" and so is the nature itself in some way, and it is all Messmer's and Marika's fault...

8) Another nameless character!

There are other characters in Elden Ring who abandon their names and instead take up titles that reflect their new purpose (like Dung Eater or Goldmask)! I can only assume that he forsaken his name, instead simply using title of his nation as one, after he lost his family. "The man I used to be died in the fires with them" kind of thing...

This is just an idea that I like, but I think if he was to ever find new relationship, he'd allow this person to refer him by the name or a nickname they pick for him! But he never wants to use his former name again. He might try to start a new life in the best case scenario, but never repair anything from the former one. Things once broken... you know.

9) You KNOW where his mapping skills come from!

He doesn't just also follow Miquella, but is an invaluable help to the team in picking and mapping his exact traces! He has been pursuing Messmer and his forces before in vengeance, and needless to mention that the size of Elden Ring's world is only scaled down for the sake of a videogame not making your brain AND computer explode x) He for sure needed a lot of spyoning, researching and seeking to both find his ways and not prematurely die.

I just think it works better if he lived comfortably in Belurat, a pretty high-class place, and HAD to develop both fighting and mapping skills as a response to his trauma and craving for revenge... I know there ARE military forces in Belurat too, but he is not exactly an armoured warrior, nor a Curseblade. And think about tragic drastic change of a character.... Miquella's charm sort of put those developed skills to a good use.

10) I am not sure what to think of his face data!

(From video by Zullie the Witch ( x )) I just had a flashback in black-and-white filter to the guy that passionately tried to prove us with the foam at his mouth that Fromsoft was super lazy, and honestly... all his arguments were super wrong, yet he never would mention something like THIS! You can absolutely tell that developers created one of these characters first, and then made the other one atop of these sliders instead of making a new one. 🙄

@slavonicrhapsody suggested that burnt marks on Hornsent's face could be from him surviving the purge, and I totally like this idea! Them making a unique character first with clear idea in mind and then remembering "ah, shoot, right we need a few annoying invader NPCs too" makes more sense! Especially since Potentates invaders are all generic, without variants! Basically, I think Hornsent holds priority in this kind of face data for obvious reasons, but, god, if they picked another type of beard, why not remove burnt marks? 🙄🙄 #FromSLOP

__________________

Tbh I already liked this character instantly upon first jumping into DLC! According to my friend @val-of-the-north people were thinking he was kind of an dick, which apparently absolutely went over my head as I didn't feel this way? Maybe it is because I am both familiar with distrusting other people as person with PTSD and not familiar with "being polite" as a concept as an autist lol dhsfh

I just found him intriguing, but his monologue after being summoned for Messmer scared me a little bit. The way he grows more obsessed with revenge, and doesn't intend to stop only at people who were actually guilty... Fun fact: I've summoned him on Messmer's arena by pure accident! XD I didn't know it could be done, I just randomly saw a summon sign while running from Messmer all over the place fhshfds Apparently it was a good call, because most people skipped this turn of character on their first play?

Also unpopular opinion, but I think him being "unlikeable" on some sort of objective level is good? I feel very strongly about the whole mindset of 'only feeling compassion for the 'good victim'' that lingers in society. Like... gooooood forbid if the victim becomes angry, or ends up hurting the world back, or otherwise develops the unlikeable traits, right? Only soft "likeable" victims that just weep and clearly never did anything wrong before OR after their trauma deserve compassion, right? (Slavonic I am using all my willpower to not link your post about Beebus rn fsdhfdhs) I think Hornsent developing negatively as a person is good and realistic. I praised the base game for how Dung Eater and Mohg were executed (not everyone who opposes the oppressive system or was a victim of it is automatically a good person), but Hornsent is not even a villain, and it is even better! He is "not good victim", and it doesn't mean that he doesn't deserve sympathy and recovery!

At the same time, really good character in his function, to show how revenge will only endlessly create more revenge infinitely! I think he deserves better than being automatically written down over what his mask item is given all the other context, and he definitely deserves all the "I can fix him" Tarnished bitches. 😔😔😔

#thank you for asking!! also gooooood sorry it took me so long I am awful with asks #elden ring #hornsent #vengeance-seeking hornsent #elden ring observation #elden ring reference #elden ring headcanons #ask replies

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misty-zzz · 15 days ago

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i know i just posted an ii theory,,, yesterday, BUT i have another one,,,, :3

so i feel like this is something that ive not really ever hear anyone talk about. maybe when the episode was first released, but idk. so if that is so, then whoopsies

anyways its mephone3gs' audio logs

(first off i would love these as a fictional podcast as a fictional podcast enthusiast myself)

ill go through them which one are the easiest to figure out to the hardest (im not adding the last one, thats just a reminder for himself)

obviously, the Adv_Log is the only one we hear. its 3gs when he goes to get the shimmer eggs.

the extra memory recording seems to be like a back up thing - i guess

the study (and JESUS, a four hour study with no breaks???) is a recording for his studies. considering this is before the shimmers attack, i would believe this time was to research and study about the shimmers, so yknow, they can figure out the best way to take eggs WITHOUT getting killed (guess that 4 hours went to nothing)

the lecture, this very well could be just like a school lecture, yknow taking notes and stuff but,,,, this is seemingly right after the shimmers, and what seems to be his most recent recording. i think this was cobs scolding 3gs for letting something like having two other mephones dying, and only being able to get one egg. and then immediately putting him in the supply closet! (although, i have no idea what the title "Charge" means,,, if you have anything about that, then go ahead)

and then lastly, the one that has been scratching my brain the most - Nouveau.

most of yall may not know what this means (let alone, be able to pronounce this). basically the definition is "something newly created". now what does this mean with mephone3gs? I HAVE NO IDEA. i thought it was smth with melife, but that was created by the shimmer egg, plus melife is a mephone4+ thing. and my friend thought it was when he was first created, but obviously theres more audio logs before this (he didnt see that) and i dont think cobs would immediately send him to a suicide mission, he would train him. so WHAT DOES THIS MEANNNN???? is it another meapple product that was introduced at the time? what is in the four minutes and forty eight seconds of dialogue (or monologue, who knows) of something newly created, WHATTTTTTT. and i did more research on what the word ment, and all i know its deprived from the french word for new and its mainly used for rich people. and yeah, cobs is rich. so like i guess theres a connection there,,, BUT IDKKK,,, please help

#osc #ii #inanimate insanity #ii theory #ii mephone3gs #mephone3gs #inanimate insanity mephone3gs #ii 3gs #SOBS WHAT DOES THIS MEANN

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sapphichotmess · 6 months ago

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Absolutely Smitten

Modern!Ellie Williams x Plus Size!f!Reader (not really specified but that’s what I write)

Name inspired by Dodie’s song Absolutely Smitten

Even though this is not 18+, I am an 18+ blog, mdni

read the second part here!!

Warnings/Tags: horrendous writing (not edited) with very little dialogue (idk how to human), fluff, meet cute, rushed ending, reader is able-bodied

~2.7k words

I am up to doing more parts of this! Maybe?

The melted-butter-colored morning sun filters through the windows of a quaint bakery, casting a warm glow across the wooden-floored interior. Birds chirp their songs, squirrels scutter up trees, causing the rustling of leaves, and an owl up too late calls out one last time. Such a beautiful sight is cause for a relaxing morning.

“Fuck!”

You curse as the all-too-familiar clatter of metal hitting the floor pierces the peaceful atmosphere of the bakery, abruptly drawing your attention away from the serene scene outside. Your brain still wanders as your non-stick shoes squeak on the tile flooring of the bakery, and it doesn’t catch up until you’re nearly toe-to-toe with disaster. Flour dusts otherwise pristine countertops like a fresh layer of snow and cascades like a white waterfall onto the floor. Bread dough clings stubbornly to multiple places in the kitchen: the countertop, the edges of the mixing bowl, and even the crevices between the tiles on the floor. Amidst the mess stood the culprit—a temperamental mixer that seemed to have a mind of its own recently.

"Of all the mornings for this to happen," you mutter, placing one hand on your head and one on your hip in frustration. This wasn't how you envisioned starting your day, but in the unforgiving world of small business ownership, setbacks like this were all too common.

With a resigned sigh, you set to work cleaning up the sticky, floury mess. You grab a towel and begin trying to wipe down the countertops first. The flour wipes off easily, some getting caught in the towel and some falling to the floor to be swept up. However, the dough sticks to the granite countertops no matter what you do. Your brows pinch in and your lips pull down at the edges as you realize that the dough is proving to be far more stubborn than anticipated. You try scraping it off with the edge of the towel, but it only smears and clings to the counter. Each attempt to remove it seems futile, making your blood boil.

Glancing over at the mixer, you can't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards the outdated piece of shit equipment. It had been a constant source of trouble lately, breaking down at the most inconvenient times and causing endless headaches.

Shaking your head at yourself for being mad at a machine, you step back, put your hands on your wide hips, and let out a controlled breath. You have to figure out how to fix this. And fast. Your bakery opens in—you look up to a clock and read the hands—shit! It opens in three hours!

Looking over the kitchen, you contemplate what you should do, trying to find an approach to cleaning up and getting a new batch of dough ready in three hours. As you focus on the mixer-made mess, inspiration strikes, and you bustle around to find a small bowl and a sponge, filling the bowl up with warm water. Your chest never rises, and you take slow, deliberate steps toward the mess with the full bowl, hoping it doesn’t tip and make an even bigger mess. When you make it to your destination, you dampen the sponge and gently dab at the dough, hoping that the moisture will help loosen its grip on the countertop.

To your relief, the tactic seems to work, albeit slowly. The dough begins to soften under the gentle pressure of the sponge, gradually loosening its hold on the granite surface. With careful persistence, you continue to work, methodically removing the stubborn remnants of dough until the countertops are once again clean and smooth. Once the dough is removed from the countertop, you get on your hands and knees to begin scrubbing it from the floor. This takes only a few minutes with the sponge and hot water. Finally, once all the pesky dough is removed from each and every nook and cranny, you grab the broom and start sweeping the flour from the floor.

As you sweep, your mind drifts to the tasks still left to do before opening time. Glancing at the clock, you realize you have less than three hours left. You nearly drop the broom from shock, not realizing that 30 minutes had gone by—you still need to get the new dough ready and finish the rest of the opening tasks.

Owning and managing this bakery by yourself is fucking difficult but you love it.

The aroma of fresh coffee fills the air as you start brewing a batch, ensuring that your customers will have their caffeine fix ready when the doors open. Meanwhile, you preheat the oven and begin preparing the day's first batch of pastries, expertly shaping dough into delicate croissants and twisting it into intricate shapes and florets for cinnamon rolls.

Trays of pastries fill the shelves, their golden crusts glistening invitingly in the soft morning light, now higher in the sky. The sound of the oven timer beeping signals that the first batch of cinnamon rolls is ready, and you quickly remove them from the heat, the tantalizing scent of warm cinnamon, brown butter, caramelized brown sugar, and yeasty bread filling the air.

With the rolls cooling on the counter, you turn your attention to the display case, arranging everything with steady hands and care to showcase their deliciousness to potential customers. The final touches are added—a dusting of powdered sugar here, a drizzle of simple syrup there—before you step back to admire your handiwork with a satisfied smile.

With only minutes to spare before opening time, you quickly tidy up the kitchen, wiping down countertops and washing dishes with practiced efficiency. The last of the flour is swept away, leaving the floor sparkling clean and ready to welcome customers.

Finally, shoes squeaking, you make it to the front entrance to unlock the door and flip the ‘closed’ sign to ‘open.’

But as you turn to walk back behind the counter, you hear a familiar bell ring.

The bell hanging above the door you just unlocked. The one you still stand in front of, back turned.

Suddenly, the floor is flying towards you, just a blur of dark hardwood before your eyes flutter closed, and all you can see is darkness.

When your eyes flutter open, pain explodes through your body, your eyebrows scrunching and eyes clenched back shut. Your chest heaves with labored breaths and your heart races like it’s trying to break from your ribcage. Stars dance behind your eyelids as you struggle to regain your bearings, disoriented and dazed from the sudden fall.

What the fuck just happened?

Slowly, agonizingly, you manage to push yourself into a sitting position, blinking away the haze of confusion to assess the damage. Your head throbs with each accelerated heartbeat, a dull ache spreading through your limbs as you tentatively move to check for visible injuries. But before you can fully process what has just happened, a shadow falls over you, and a voice cuts through the fog of pain and confusion.

"Shit, I'm so sorry! Are you okay?"

The raspy voice is laced with concern, tinged with a hint of panic, and it takes a moment for the words to register. When they do, you turn to see a figure kneeling beside you, their features blurred by the remnants of your fall.

Struggling to focus and blinking hard to try and clear your vision, you manage to make out a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you, filled with genuine worry, auburn eyebrows drawn in, causing worry lines to appear between them. As your vision fully clears, the face comes into sharper focus, and you realize that you've never seen this person before.

She sports a somewhat slender jawline, high cheekbones, proportional top and bottom lips—both somewhat plush—and fair skin smattered with freckles the looked like an artist took their brush and flung paint at them.

Despite the pain pulsing through your head and the disorientation of the fall, you find yourself momentarily captivated by the stranger's striking features. There's an undeniable warmth in her pale green gaze, a kindness that puts you at ease in spite of the awkwardness of the situation. Her eyebrows are still pulled together, the sight of the lines in between them making you want to reach out and smooth them away.

She cocks her head slightly, her short auburn hair swishing with the movement and catching a ray of sun, turning slightly red—the color reminds you of a brown border collie’s fur. As you follow the movement with your eyes, you register her earlier question. With pain still throbbing in your head you manage a weak nod, unable to find your voice amidst the chaos of the moment. The stranger's expression softens with relief at your response, the worry lines between her brows fading, and she reaches out a hand to help you to your feet.

"Here, let me help you up," she offers, her voice gentle as she assists you in standing. "I really didn't mean to slam the door like that. Are you sure you're okay?"

You manage another slight nod, though the throbbing in your head protests with each movement. Your eyes swim and something roils in your stomach, nausea curling up your esophagus. Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself with the captivating stranger's support, her hands gently holding you around waist height so as to not make you uncomfortable.

Well, fall would be an understatement—it was more like a push to the floor.

Assaulted by your own door.

God, could this morning get any worse?

As you gain footing, knees no longer shaking—though if you keep looking into those eyes, they might start all over again—the stranger lets go of you, her right hand swiping over the top of her nose before both hands are tucked in her pockets. A soft blush spreads on her cheeks, moving up from her neck all the way into her hairline.

She still seems concerned, though, softly asking, "Are you sure you're okay?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips at her sheepish expression. "I think so," you manage to reply, your voice faint but steady. "Just a bit shaken up, I guess."

The stranger nods in understanding, her expression softening with relief, though the blush stays. "I'm glad to hear that," she says, her tone genuine. "I really didn't mean to barrel into you with the door like that. I was just in a hurry, and… well, I guess I wasn't paying attention."

Despite the circumstances, you can't help but chuckle breathlessly at her admission. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin widening, cheeks pushing up and making your eyes squint. "Just a little stumble, that's all."

With a shared laugh, the tension and awkwardness between you begin to bleed from the atmosphere. The stranger offers you a warm smile, straight white teeth glittering in the mid-morning sunlight, and a glimmer of amusement dancing in her eyes.

"By the way," she says, extending a slightly shaking hand towards you, "I'm Ellie. Ellie Williams."

You grasp her hand in a firm shake, a sense of gratitude washing over you at the charming introduction. You were nervous standing here in front of this… piece of art sculpted by the likes of Michelangelo, and you knew you would have stumbled and made a fool while introducing yourself. Besides, her slight awkwardness is cute.

You give her your name back, saying, "Nice to meet you, Ellie," with a small grin, the remnants of a chuckle still lingering in the back of your throat, threatening to creep up as she shuffles on her feet awkwardly. “Though I don’t know if it is very nice since you kind of slammed into me with a door…”

She jerks as though hit with something, eyebrows shooting up and eyes widening in shock. Her face darkens more, further showcasing freckles artistically splattered across her face. She stammers out another apology, her words tumbling over each other in her rush to express her regret.

"I-I'm so sorry," she says, her voice wavering with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to... I mean, I've been wanting to come into the bakery for a while now, and I guess I got a little too excited, and..."

Her words trail off into awkward silence as mortification registers on her face, her shoulders folding up towards her ears. She shifts on her feet uncomfortably, unable to meet your gaze. It's clear that Ellie is flustered, her cheeks flushed the deepest red you’ve ever seen as she struggles to articulate her thoughts.

Despite your lips turning up into a slight smile and choking on the giggles that tried to escape at the poor girl, you can't help but feel a surge of sympathy for her. "No harm done," you assure her, your grin softening. "Just a little unexpected introduction, that's all."

Ellie's shoulders relax slightly at your words, a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Thank you," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

As Ellie continues to fidget nervously, hand dragging over her nose again, you sense that there's more to her awkwardness than meets the eye. So, you offer her a kind word of reassurance. "You know," you begin, "you're always welcome here at the bakery. No need to rush next time."

At your invitation, Ellie's eyes light up with gratitude, looking more like an excited dog by the minute. "Thank you," she says, her voice light and filled with genuine appreciation as she bounces on her heels, her auburn hair dancing with her movement.

Feeling your cheeks heat at the depth of her stare, you find yourself fidgeting this time. There's something about Ellie's enthusiasm that's infectious, drawing you in despite the lingering discomfort from your fall.

Before you can gather your thoughts, Ellie reaches for a nearby pcake display, her eyes alight with anticipation. "I think I'll take one of these," she says, pointing to a freshly baked red velvet cupcake nestled among its companions.

You watch as she pays for her purchase, a sense of admiration growing within you for her unbridled enthusiasm. Despite the chaos of the morning, Ellie's presence has brought a ray of sunshine into your day, and you find yourself feeling grateful for the chance encounter.

Taking a moment to appreciate the way she lights up the room with her infectious energy, you can't help but wonder about the person behind the cheerful facade. There's a warmth in her eyes and a genuineness in her smile that speaks volumes, leaving you intrigued and wanting to learn more about her. And there's an undeniable chemistry between you, a connection that feels both unexpected and strangely familiar.

So, you summon up your courage to do something probably wholly unprofessional as a business owner. You take a deep breath and meet Ellie's green gaze head-on. "Hey, um, would it be okay if I got your number?" you ask, your voice tentative but earnest.

Ellie's eyes widen in surprise at your request, but her smile only grows wider. "Of course!" she exclaims with a small scoff-like laugh, her enthusiasm bubbling over. "I'd love that."

With a sense of relief flooding through you, you fumble for your phone, fingers trembling slightly as you input Ellie's number. As you exchange contact information, a sense of excitement blooms within you, fueled by the prospect of getting to know Ellie better.

With a final exchange of smiles and promises to stay in touch, you bid Ellie farewell, watching as she heads off down the street with a spring in her step. As you turn back to the bakery, a sense of anticipation fills your chest, mingled with the lingering ache of your fall.

With a final nod of assurance to yourself, you straighten up and take a step forward. Despite the unexpected start to your encounter, there's something strangely comforting about Ellie's presence—as if fate had intervened to bring you together in that moment of chaos.

taglist

@les4elliewilliams @abbyshands

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the-suns-a-tube · 1 year ago

Text

How much of Jonny's backstory I think is true:

This is what Jonny has to say about his backstory:

"Seriously? Fine. I was born a few hundred years ago on New Texas. Don’t bother looking for it, I made it up. I think. It’s the story, though, and that’s what matters. Standard ne’erdowell youth: cards, whiskey, women and murder. I’m told I had a good heart, but the Doc dealt with that after the whole patricide thing."

What I think is true:

-Jonny Grew up on a Texas like planet

-Jonny killed his father

-There was a casino in the story involved somewhere

What I think is untrue:

-Any of the dialogue. Jonny definitely rewrote everything to have better flow, be more dramatic, and make himself sound cooler.

-That Jonny's Father forgave him. I think Jonny had retold what he wants to have happened. Bonus Points for trans jonny, If he is trans I dont think his father accepted him as his son. The "I forgive you, Son." would be jonny's imagining of what happened.

I don't think jonny even remembers what really happened, and what bits are real and what bits he made up. Its been so long of him telling his rewritten story, what really happened has been lost to him, not entirely on accident either.

What I'm not sure about:

One Eyed Jack. He could have been a real person, or he could have been a symbolic character Jonny made up to represent multiple people. Or he could be taking the place of Carmilla in the story, and maybe it was Carmilla who convinced him to kill his dad. The One Eye symbolism is there.

Again, Jonny doesn't seem to even remember. "New Texas. Don't bother looking for it, I made it up. I think" and "I'm told I had a good heart."

and the

"Standard ne’erdowell youth: cards, whiskey, women and murder."

Cards ✅

Whiskey ✅

Murder ✅

Women (?)

There aren't really any women in his youth that we know of. Carmilla only came in later, so the only thing we have is his Mother who I think was a Tailor (am i remembering that right? idk where I saw that) and Himself, if you have the afab jonny hc. But the women thing sorta implies that he was having relations with women, so perhaps that was another thing that his father disagreed with? Im totally speculating here, but if his dad found out that he, being afab, had been going out with women, he perhaps did not react well to that, either hurting jonny, hurting jonny's partner, or separating them. Perhaps Jonny Killed his dad in self defense or in revenge?

Ok Ok im going to formulate a narrative of what I personally think happened:

-Jonny was born afab on a backwater planet possibly named New Texas

-He grew up with his emotional abstinence mother and either physically or emotionally abusive father

-Started hanging out at the local casino, where he can present as male. Hangs around with the prostitutes and working women, maybe even gets a job bartending or something.

-falls in love with one of the working women

-His dad finds out about the sapphic looking relationship/presenting male stuff and freaks out, going after the woman for corrupting the "Nice Christian Girl" he wanted his daughter to be.

-His Father does something about it, and arranges for the woman to be sent away, killed, or married off.

-Jonny goes to the casino looking for her, only to have One Eyed jack tell him what happened in a not so subtle ploy to get Jonny to get rid of his dad for him.

-Jonny is unsure, but goes after his dad, getting into a fight that ends with Billy dead and Jonny sobbing on the floor

-Carmilla finds Jonny, offers to take him with her. With his partner gone, Jonny has nothing left, and agrees. But he wants to have one last farewell to the casino.

-Either carmilla tips him off or he figures it out himself, but One Eyed Jack helped orchestrate the killing or sending away of the Working Woman in his employ,

-Jonny realizes Jack never wanted to help him, he just wanted someone to do his killing for him.

-Jonny burns down the casino and leaves with Carmilla.

I think him being motivated by a lost lover makes a lot of sense with the whole "used to have a good heart" thing. Jonny is very romantic in his storytelling, even when the couple always tragically dies. I think he chose to write her out of his past because it was too painful for him, and he didn't want a reminder that he used to have a heart. He has blocked it out, and now genuinely doesn't remember anything other than how he wrote the song.

What do yall think?

#the mechanisms #the mechs #sunny tube mech spec #jonny d'ville

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girlboybug · 2 years ago

Note

writing request for a smut fic with established relationship with javi x reader? dialogue prompt: javi: “he looked at you funny” reader: “i didn’t know you were the jealous type..”

OOO i like this muahaha >:) i hope you enjoy hehe, thank u for requesting!! <3

art deco

"shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure. baby you're so ghetto, you're lookin' to score."

or the one where jealousy happens to be a good look on javi.

what’s playing 🎧 : art deco by lana del rey

content warnings : SMUT, jealous!javi, blowjobs, face fucking, car sex, semi public sex (?), unprotected sex (extremely unwise w javi idk wtf he got goin on down there), creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, themes of slut shaming, threats of exhibitionism, threats of restraints e.g cuffs, brat tamer!javi (been dying to write that)

trigger warnings : mentions/threats of gun usage, alcohol, both reader and javier are tipsy at best, if there is anything i missed pls lmk!

word count : 4k

a/n : im pulling SO MUCH out my ass w this bc i havent finished narcos and only rlly pay attention when pedro or boyd is on screen and even tho im half mexican my ass cannot speak spanish for the life of me teehee sorry yall

you’re a bad actor.

you’re also bad at lying and honestly, just generally bad at the things javier happens to be especially good at.

but that’s okay, javier likes you like that. it’s refreshing, endearing, to be with someone who hasn’t gotten good at lying or pretending to be someone they’re not. and actually, he’s currently watching you fail at that right now.

you’re at the bar, swirling around your drink that he bought for you, pretending to not notice the way he’s eyeing you from across the club. he thinks it's cute how you keep stealing glances at him, giggling to yourself whenever he catches you.

you two do this little song and dance every now and then, it keeps things exciting and fun, and you never have complaints about it.

you pretend to be the single, bored girl sitting alone at the bar, and javier just so happens to swoop in, introducing himself as the man who’s been ordering drinks for you all night, ready to charm you into his bed for the night. it’s stupid when you say it out loud, but the way he fucks you when you do this little act makes it seem like the best goddamn idea he’s ever come up with.

it’s harmless fun between a couple, and the tension you two create throughout the night is always a recipe for mind blowing sex. however, it seems things are going a bit off script tonight.

a man invites himself to the empty barstool beside you that was reserved for javier, but he’s oblivious to the little game you’re playing right now. “hi there,” he says, grinning, and you try your best to hold back a long sigh while you greet him back politely.

javier’s hand tightens around the beer he’s got, wishing the neck of the bottle belonged to the man staring you down. he decides he’ll keep watch for awhile, he trusts you, and wants to see how this’ll play out, despite his patience already wearing dangerously thin.

“can i buy you another drink?” he asks, motioning towards the dwindling liquid in your glass. its not a difficult question, but the answer isn’t coming to you like it should be.

you are playing the role of a single woman tonight, and you won’t let anything go further with this guy than receiving a free drink.

eh. why not?

“yeah, sure, thank you.” you smile back, and he hurriedly calls over the bartender, asking for two glasses of whatever it is you ordered. javier shifts in his seat, his jaw coming down harder than it was just a moment ago as he watches you share a drink with someone that isn’t him.

javier follows his wandering eyes, how they trail up and down your figure, making it obvious he’s wondering what you’ve got on underneath.

javier wants to walk up to him to tell him how he knows what you’ve got under that dress, because he picked it out.

god, this night fuckin’ sucks so far.

“i noticed you for awhile now, what’re you doin’ here all alone?” he asks, and you get a little nervous with the way he gets closer to you. “i’m just waiting for my boyfriend to show up.” you answer, deciding the single woman role didn’t feel as fun anymore.

“ahh, i see.” he replies, and you expect him to scoot farther from you, or better yet, leave. but much to your dismay, he stays.

“it’s just,” he starts, and you glance down at your shoes, saying a silent prayer for him to get on with what he’s got to say before he leaves you alone for good.

“you’ve been here for awhile now, you sure he’s comin’ honey?” he questions you, faux concern in his voice and you close your eyes for a moment to hide the way they roll at him.

“yeah, i’m sure.” you reply curtly. “how about i keep you some company while you wait for him then, how’s that sound?” he gets closer than you would’ve liked, boldly resting his arm around your shoulders, and yep, that’ll do it.

javier’s beer clatters down onto his table as he shoots up from his seat, stalking over to you. he’s quick to join you, standing tall behind your seated figure, his strong chest a familiar surface against your back.

“uh who’re you–”

“her boyfriend.” he answers, eyes lowered testingly, practically itching for him to give him a reason to swing. “hi baby,” you beam, turning around and craning your neck up to give him a kiss. he leans down, holding your chin while he kisses you.

with your lips still connected, he stares at the scoffing man that just sits and watches.

“yeah well i wasn’t the one who kept her waiting all night so why don’t you get lost? we were havin’ a conversation, weren’t we sweetheart?” he looks at you as if you’d actually agree, and you open your mouth to defend javier, but he doesn’t need you to, he’s more than eager to put this guy back in his place.

he steps away from behind your back, moving right in front of you now, leaning in close to the man. he reaches around to his lower back, sliding his gun to the side of his waist before he’s got it in his clutch, pressing it to the man’s ribs.

“you have 3 seconds to get the fuck out my face before i stop being so polite.” he whispers in his ear, and the man stiffens with immediate fear once he registers what’s being pointed at him.

he swivels out of the stool, hastily hopping out to make his way out the club all together. javier turns back to you once he’s out of his field of vision, expecting a profuse thank you javi, but he gets quite the opposite.

“what the hell was that?” you question, sounding angry, and uh oh, you saw that.

“baby,” he starts off but you just huff, climbing off the stool. “that was way too far,” you point at him and he sighs, holding your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to settle your irritation down.

“but he was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t see the way he was looking at you–”

“and what way was he looking at me for you to pull a gun out on him?” you whisper yell and he starts to join you in your frustration.

“he looked at you…funny, like he was just thinking about fucking you the entire time.” he sounds upset that he even has to explain himself to you about this, and you catch it, deciding to throw it back at him when you turn on your heel to leave.

he growls with annoyance as he follows you out the club, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn back and look at him.

you exhale sharply, looking up at him, switching your weight onto your left foot. “i knew you could be a little…impulsive sometimes but jesus jav, i didn’t realize you were the jealous type that would do something so…stupid.”

his annoyance is fast to turn into a hard glare, and you see the sudden shift, instantly feeling regretful. he purses his lips to the side, laughing dryly. “stupid huh?” he clicks his tongue and you shake your head, walking closer to him now.

“javi, i’m sorry,” you try to remedy the mess of this situation, but unlucky for you, what little patience he was holding onto is now gone.

he grabs the hand of yours that’s reaching towards his jaw, he isn’t in the mood for it. he pulls you along by your wrist to the parking lot.

“yeah, you’re about to be baby,” he mutters, and your heart picks up, your heel clad feet in turn picking up speed to keep up with him.

he ushers you into his backseat, slamming the door behind you once you’re both in. he tugs you into his lap, your legs on either side of him, your knees making contact with the cold vinyl. his hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it hard.

you gasp a little, arching into his chest. the second you move in closer, his lips are on your’s. it’s not gentle, it’s not slow paced, and it’s not soft, no, that’s for when you’re good. and you’ve been anything but.

you’re grinding in his lap, his growing bulge feels perfect right up against your dampening panty clad cunt, too perfect that you can’t stop yourself. you’re moaning in his mouth, struggling to keep up the pace and intensity in the way his lips are moving with your’s.

he tastes like beer and cigarettes, smells like it too, with traces of his cologne that you love. he’s like paradise incarnate and you want to live in him forever.

when he pulls away you're left panting in his hold, lips parted, brushing against each other, stealing the other person’s breaths. “you know,” he sighs lowly, his words trailing up your spine, leaving shivers in their wake.

“just because i let you pretend you’re single for the night doesn’t mean you actually are,” he says, and he sounds serious, but there’s something hidden in his air, something challenging, like he wants you to argue just so he can put you right back where you belong.

you nod heavily like he speaks words of righteousness, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i know javi, i know,” you pepper his face in kisses, but he remains still, outwardly unphased.

“guess you just got too excited at the thought of bein’ a slut huh?” he breathes out flicking a brow at you, keeping you in close when you try to inch away from him at his accusations.

“i’m not a slut–” he unfolds your offended arms, hands leaving your wrists to hold your thighs that rest on either side of his lap. “no baby it’s alright, s’not a totally bad thing. i like sluts. they let you do whatever you want to ‘em,” he grips your thighs, forcefully sliding you off his lap and letting you land down on your knees before him. you gasp, holding onto his legs for steadiness.

“and they let you all while tryin’ to convince you they aren’t sluts. isn’t that funny? he chuckles, caressing your cheek, peering down at you while he does so.

“javi,” you say, you don’t know what to say next, the only certainty that remains is that his name never sounds wrong coming from you.

“if you wanna be a slut so bad then go ahead, i won’t stop you.” he shrugs, leaning back into the seat, arms stretched out beside him. you swallow away your stuttering, running your hands up and down your thighs. “what do you want me to do?” you ask smally, looking up at him from under your lashes.

he readjusts, lifting his hips in the air, settling back down closer to you. he tilts his head, eyes flickering from his crotch back to your gaze, “what sluts do best baby.” he says under a gravelly breath. your thighs close just a little tighter at that, feeling eager to oblige to his insinuations.

you unzip his levi’s, unbuttoning them before you’re pulling him from out his boxers, throat getting tight at the way he pulses in your hands. precum is already beading at his tip, and you lean forward, flicking your tongue over it. he hisses quietly, a hand coming behind your neck.

your lips envelope the tip, shutting your eyes when you trail down until you can’t take any more of him down your throat. he groans, throwing his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth. you gag around him, hand trembling while you try to jerk off what you can’t fit into your mouth.

he rolls his head forward, holding you by the back of your head, starting to thrust further in, chuckling to himself at the way you gag. he lets you slide off him, jerking his slick cock off while you catch your breath.

you’re staring at each other in the thick air, the night breeze sneaking in from the cracked windows, making your nipples perk from behind your lacy bra.

the moon glimmers through the side window facing javier, and it panels his cheekbone, across his jaw and down his chin, trickling over the curve of his collarbones.

he looks so beautiful like this, sitting tall in front of you, looking at you like he could tear you apart with one hand, jaw clenching when your thumb slides over the head of his cock.

the way he’s looking at you elicits a reaction from your body before your mind can reach it. you lean back down, taking him deeper into your mouth.

you don’t mind the way he keeps your head still, using your mouth the way he likes.

he fucks your mouth like he wants to prove a point, and at this moment he doesn’t even know what the point is, he hardly even remembers where he’s currently at, the only thing that makes sense is how fucking good you’re taking him down your throat.

you’re being so good, so perfectly compliant for him, and what’s fueling you is the tingles exploding between your thighs at the way he’s using you.

the grunting utterances of your name in his spewing breaths adds propellent to the roaring fire building in your lower tummy.

his groans get a little airier, picking up in quantity, coming out one after the other, fucking your mouth so deep your nose brushes against the brown curls sitting just above his cock. “look at me,” he instructs through gritted teeth, and you listen, blinking away your teary eyes to look up at him.

he sends one, two, three, hard thrusts into your mouth before he pulls out, resting the tip over your lips. he pants to himself, shutting his eyes closed while you take this time to do the same and catch your own breath. “what’s wrong?” you sound a little rasped, and he can’t fight the smug look on his face at your voice.

“as much as i’d like to let you continue, i got better things planned baby,” he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you back up into his lap.

he pushes your dress up, exhaling when he sees how wet you are in the panties he picked out for you. “javi, i didn’t bring any condoms, do you have one?” you press your hands to his chest, momentarily halting him, and he looks at you, scoffing quietly.

“huh. sluts don’t usually care about that kinda thing.” he rubs the head of his cock over your clothed clit, watching your lowered eyes fully shut, a moan slipping out at his ministrations, proving him right. “s’not gonna fit like this,” your whimper when he moves your panties to the side, flicking himself up and down your folds. “it will baby, i’ll make it fit.” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

you rarely ever got on top, he was always very adamant about taking care of you, whether that means you’re on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders or you with your wrists being hoisted by his tight grip while he fucks you senseless.

the constant is, he’s always on top.

he’s big, no matter the position he’s got you in, it’s always a stretch he has to ease you into. which is why you’re typically reluctant to get on top, but right now he isn’t asking, he’s telling.

“javi, s’not gonna go in like this,” you whimper nervously, curling into his chest. head on his shoulder. he rolls his eyes, fingers gliding right over your clit to shut you up. and it works, naturally, he chuckles.

your breath gets faster when he swirls over your clit with his fingers, squirming around in his lap. he holds himself from the base of his cock, circling over your fluttering hole. your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his hair.

he starts crowning into you, pushing in the fat head of his cock, pausing the breath in the middle of your throat. it rumbles out as a pained moan when he continues pushing in. “god javi,” you whine, legs on either side of him flexing with nerves at the intrusion.

“doin’ all the work for you baby, jus’ take it for me,” he mutters in your ear, his mustache tickling your jaw while he rubs your clit to ease you into it.

“actin’ like i haven’t fucked this pussy before, know you can handle it, sè una niña grande para mí,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, and you melt, nodding desperately. “i am,” you mumble, bracing yourself for when he bottoms out inside you. he thrusts upward, holding you by the fat your ass, pulling you down onto him.

the air is knocked out your lungs, and all you can do is hold on to his leather clad shoulders for dear life. your hips start moving in sync, rolling into each other, and you feel insane, it feels so good, you start thinking maybe you’ll do this more often.

the sting from the stretch subsides soon, but the feeling of being full stays, and you keep it, loving how good it feels. the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, bobbing up into your throat and you fall apart, fucking yourself on him, addicted to the way he hits every little spot inside you that you need.

you’re moaning, panting loudly in his ear, and he eats every single one of them up, gripping your hips when he guides you down onto him. kisses lay wetly across the side of his neck, teeth graze over his ear, praises of how fucking big he is, and how good he feels inside you, relay to him over and over, making his cock twitch when he picks up the pace in his thrusts.

“you’re so nice while i fuck you baby, maybe this is how i should shut you up more often huh?” he teases, but you don’t care, you’d start arguments with him if it meant he’d always feel this good in you.

“in so deep,” you whimper more to yourself but he hears you, he hears it all. he hears how fucking soaked you are around him, hears every little breath, every little moan that comes out of you.

he smacks over your ass, chuckling to himself when you whine and clamp down around him. “maybe i should go find that guy huh?” he leans forward, lips on your shoulder when he ruts up into you deeper, right there to hold you closer when you keen into him at the hard thrust.

“ ‘should find him and fuck you in front of him, show him how its done, what do you think of that baby?” he grunts, hands tightening over your hips.

you just moan, babbling something incoherent when you grind down onto him, his words acting as a lighter underneath the growing flame while you bounce on him. you squeeze around him, your body unashamed of how much you like the idea of such a dirty act.

he feels the way you clamp down around him, chuckling breathlessly, his hand traveling behind your neck to force you to look at him. “or maybe it’s you who’d like that,” he taunts, expecting a shy shake of your head, but you just nod, trying to meet his thrusts. "i'll do whatever you want javi," you whimper pathetically, and god, that does something to him.

"know you will, so sweet baby," he groans, leaning back to watch where you both meet, loving the sight of his cock entering and disappearing into your cunt.

you tug at the hair from the back of his head, messily kissing all over his jaw and cheek, and he takes it all, adoring how clingy you are with him right now. he pulls the front of your dress down, hooking his fingers under the cups of your bra and groaning to himself when he sees your tits, pretty and pert under the bra, he of course, picked out for you.

black see-through lace, his favorite.

"gonna be the death of me, mi vida," he murmurs to himself, latching his hot eager mouth over them. he assaults the soft skin with his tongue, teeth grazing over your sensitive nipples, a smirk forming around the flesh when he teases the ghost of a bite, wanting to laugh when you squirm and arch your back at his actions.

his fingers find their place back to your clit, rubbing over the nerves like clockwork, syncing the way you bounce on him with harder thrusts, making the pleasure surrounding you inescapable.

breathing is getting harder, but it feels unimportant, everything does when it comes to javi. in this moment if he told you to stop breathing altogether you honestly just might listen to him.

but it's so much so soon, and you want to hold onto the moment for as long as you can, enjoy each stroke of his cock deep inside you longer, and if he keeps touching you like this, you know you won't last. you paw at his hand, trying to push the relentless wrist away. "no more javi, m'gonna cum too fast please," you whimper, but he doesn't agree. you're finished when he's finished.

"do i need to cuff you to the headrest or are you gonna keep those hands to yourself?" he spits, sounding harsh, sounding serious. you whine like a wounded puppy, shaking that empty little head of yours.

"but javi," he grabs your chin, guiding your gaze downward when he moves his jacket to the side, revealing the cuffs that hang from his belt loops. "think i'm kiddin'? hands to yourself or around me. otherwise you get these. your choice," he's still inside you, and you can't take it, you throw your arms around him, hugging him close while trying to get him to move again.

"gonna be good, gonna listen, m'sorry, please move javi, please?"

he senses your desperation, and gives in, continuing his thrusts. you sigh in relief, following the way his hips piston up into you with your own.

"can i touch you?" you whisper, unsure if you're allowed to, but javier relents, nodding with a kiss to your neck. you slide his jacket off eagerly, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before your hands are running along the warm skin of his shoulders, squeezing them when he thrusts right there.

your hands drag down his chest, nails lightly digging into his tanned skin when your head falls back, rising and falling up and down on his cock. his mouth is on you again, tongue swirling over the curve of your chest, gripping them roughly in his wide palms.

he watches you from this view, how you lose yourself when he's got his cock in you, and he thinks maybe he should have encouraged you to ride him earlier.

he's getting close, watching you has only pulled him closer to the end, his cock twitching the more he imagines how good you'd look dripping in his cum. he imagines your trembling thighs being parted by his hands, your abused hole just leaking and leaking from his cum.

"m'close, gonna let me finish inside mi vida?" he grunts, and you nod heavily, clamping harder down around him when he asks. "please, please javi," you beg, and who is he to deny you?

his fingers run around your clit once more, those tight circles from the pads of his fingers bring you right there alongside with him, moaning his name in an incomprehensible voice while his face rests in the crook of your neck, bouncing you on top of him.

"always wanted to cum in you baby, always wanted to fill you up nice an' good —fuck—, make you fuckin' full of me, just know you'd look so fuckin' good just drippin– shit," you're squeezing him like you never have before, his confessions, the ferver in the way he fucks you is just too much, your body acts before you can even process what’s happening.

you cum all around his cock, and the pulsing of your walls, the whimpers of his name from your pretty lips is all he needs to join you in your blinding orgasm. he's cumming inside you, grunting your name and how fuckin' good you are for him, his mouth hot on your neck while he fucks you through your shared orgasms.

he doesn't let up on your clit until the pleasure bleeds into pain, and you can't take it. with heavy breaths you collapse in his arms, panting like you've just ran a marathon, sweaty forehead resting on the cool leather of the seat.

he gently shifts your hips backward, looking down at his cum that pours out of you. he likes the mess, likes how your cunt looks when he rubs his cum across your throbbing clit, you jump at the stimulation, begging him in a tired voice, no more javi.

he listens, taking sympathy on your spent body. he puts your panties back over you, tucking himself away before he repositions you so you're properly sitting in his lap, letting your legs stretch across the rest of the backseat.

"you okay mi bebita?" he murmurs softly, and you hum a sleepy yes, still buzzing from your orgasm. "still mad?" he asks jokingly, pulling a hazy giggle from you.

“i think you just fucked any anger i had left out of me." he laughs proudly at that, rubbing your back. "yeah? maybe that's how we should settle all our fights then."

#javier pena x reader #javier pena narcos #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena #narcos #narcos fanfiction #javier peña #javier pena fic #javier pena x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #javier pena smut #narcos smut #narcos netflix #requested #requests open #open requests #reqs open #javier peña x reader

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judasalicent · 3 months ago

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disclaimer: i don't actually think rhaenyra and alicent's deaths will be faked in hotd

wait wait wait wait… so laenor fakes his death… supposedly being burnt alive… then runs away on a boat across the narrow sea with his gay lover… fleeing a war of dragons… i don’t see the writers faking alicent/rhaenyra’s deaths in hotd, but exploring laenor’s part in the larger context of the story introduces some interesting ideas. by s2, it seems laenor has died (or travelled too far and severed the psychic link he had with seasmoke lol). his involvement in the story is seemingly over, meaning we can consider what his role meant in the larger scheme of things.

as of s2, the only impact laenor has had on the story, post-“death,” is addam/the sowing, but laenor’s departure obviously references alicent and rhaenyra; the escape closely resembles rhaenyra’s dialogue in the godswood in s1ep1 and the story of nymeria on the torn book page. i think there is a clear connection between these ideas. laenor and qarl’s escape could be foreshadowing an escape attempt by rhaenyra and alicent. also, if laenor has truly died, his “death” would also be foreshadowing rhaenyra’s actual death via dragonfire.

but, and i truly believe this to be super unlikely, laenor and qarl’s escape attempt was a success, and rhaenyra and alicent’s deaths will be faked. i keep thinking of grrm’s “butterflies,” and while one of those is certainly nettles, ryan changing the way a dragon bonds to its master would definitely piss grrm off. the idea behind this change could be that laenor’s connection to seasmoke was severed, not because he died, but because he abandoned the dragon/the idea of targaryenism/the violence of the war, and in doing so, he lost access to this part of himself, and seasmoke sought out a new rider.

another thing that makes me wonder about a faked deaths is septanyra. in f&b, the only instance of alicent explicitly interacting with a septa is on her death bed. by s2ep3, rhaenyra knows that she can sneak into the city as a septa, and in f&b, alicent is alone with a septa in her final hours. obviously septanyra could also just be setting up alicent dying of fever and hallucinating rhaenyra, but it could also be a part of an escape plan: alicent feigning illness in order to sneak away.

i don’t really like the idea of faked deaths; i think it would be more meaningful if rhaenyra and alicent’s love is forgotten to history, remembered only by them, a tragedy, etc., but a faked death ending is fun to think about theoretically lol. i just think laenor’s escape and its, in my opinion, obvious connection to alicent and rhaenyra’s old (and current) dream is interesting.

idk if we should really trust grrm’s threat of “butterflies” considering the maelor stuff was so unserious, but he made it out like there were “worse things to come” ahaha. messing with dragon bonding would definitely make him mad, and rhaenyra/alicent not dying would also piss him off. he’s really adamant about the disinherited women part of the dance, and i don’t think he’d appreciate the story being turned into one of gay liberation. too bad for him though, because regardless of whether or not rhaenyra and alicent’s deaths are faked, i’m 80% sure this will end as a story about gay liberation ahahaha.

#hotd #rhaneyra targaryen #alicent hightower #rhaenicent #house of the dragon #hotd spoilers

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ariundercovers · 1 year ago

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A Fork in the Road (When Paths Cross, Pt II-Javi Peña x Reader)

Pairing: Javier Peña x Afab!Reader (No use of y/n!)

Length: ~3k words

Series Summary: Chucho's been like a father figure to you since he helped you out of a sticky situation on your second day in Laredo. What happens when you finally meet his son, the former-DEA agent, who just happens to ignite you in a way that you haven't felt before?

Chapter Summary: The next morning. Chucho, water, and a promise.

Chapter Warnings: explicit 18+ graphic descriptions of sexual acts, fingering, hand jobs, mutual masturbation, Chucho being a Little Shit, Javi being a needy demon, spanish nicknames, idk what else its honestly pretty chill

a/n: Huge shoutout to my spouse who assisted me GREATLY with the Chucho/Javi/Reader breakfast dialogue. There was so much I wanted to convey there and it required a lot of finesse. He was instrumental in getting it there.

If you're so inclined, please drop a like and a reply/reblog! I live for your feeback, and it keeps me going and keeps me writing. Did you like it? love it? hate it? I want to hear all of your thoughts!

PREVIOUS PART (I) HERE

NEXT PART (III) HERE

You wake up in nearly the same position you fell asleep in, minus one large man behind you that you’re not entirely sure whether you imagined or not. As you blink your bleary eyes open, you recognize finally that you’re not in your apartment, and certainly not in your own bedroom.

Oh, right. So… it wasn’t a dream, afterall.

You stretch your limbs out wide for a long moment, sitting up onto your forearms just as the door is opening. You pray that it’s not Chucho, and thank fuck, it isn’t. It’s Javi, holding two mugs of coffee. He smiles at you and hands you one that seems to already have cream in it.

“Seemed like the cream-and-sugar kind of gal. If I’m wrong, I’ll take that one and fix this one up for you however you like.” You smile widely back at him and bring the cup to your lips, the smell alone waking you up a bit.

“No, this is perfect, Javi. Thank you.” He nods, perches on the edge of the bed, and watches you as you sip the coffee in your hands. “Is Chucho up yet?”

“No, too early still. Why? Worried about him seeing you?” You shrug in response, not wanting to admit it, but you know he’s right.

“Alright. You’ve got two options. You can run out of here quickly before he sees you, or you can stay and suffer through it so I can make you a proper breakfast.”

You smile softly and look up at him from where your face is buried in the mug. “And what’s your take on a proper breakfast, exactly?”

“Pancakes and scrambled eggs. It’s about all I can make, so that’s your highest offer.”

You laugh in response and sip your coffee once more. “Yeah. That sounds perfect, actually. I’ll stay.” You’re a pair of consenting adults, anyway. What does it really matter if Chucho finds out? You’re not a teenager, and he’s not your dad.

Except, he really has been like a father to you since you got here. You’re certain Javi wouldn’t lie about whether or not Chucho would be mad about it, though, so you do your best to let it roll over you and move along.

Javi nods back at you with a little lopsided grin on his face and stands up, brushing off his jeans briefly. Then he’s taking a few steps to close the distance between you and leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll get started then. Join me whenever you want. And feel free to grab a shirt, or sweatpants, or whatever you want from my dresser if it's more comfortable. Open invitation.” You watch him as he leaves, bringing the coffee to your lips again as you sigh.

This is not how you expected your weekend to start out.

Half of a coffee mug and one quick clothing change later, you find yourself plodding into the kitchen from down the hall, one of Javi’s t-shirts pulled over your head and your coffee, half-drunk, safely held in two hands. Javi is, as he said he would be, diligently working on making a mess of the kitchen. You can’t help but smile at the easiness of it, setting your mug down on the table.

“Can I help?”

He shakes his head ‘no,’ but doesn’t turn to you as he continues. “Never. I’m making breakfast for you, not with you.” He turns then and smirks at seeing you in one of his shirts - it sets off a pang of possessiveness in his chest that comes out of nowhere. “Done soon, promise.”

You sit and watch him for a few more minutes, the domesticity granting you a peacefulness that you haven’t often felt since moving here. You watch him move back and forth from the fridge to the stove, eventually making up two plates of food and bringing them over to set one in front of each of you.

“Thank you for this, Javi, it’s very sweet of you.”

“It’s nothing, really. Just tryin’ to treat you right. Plus, Chucho would kill me if he found out I sent you out of here without some food in your belly.” You chuckle at that, as you can imagine it easily. Chucho does always seem to have a touch of a temper, and a keen ability to push Javi’s buttons with expert technique, as he demonstrated last night. He’s also strangely protective of you, for a reason you can’t quite place.

“Thank you, anyway. I appreciate it. And the coffee. And the shirt, actually.” You offer him a genuine smile and then turn to your plate, digging into the array he’s laid out for you. It’s shockingly well-made, which only surprises you because you can’t really picture him as much of a home chef.

You’re both working your way through your plates when you hear the floorboards creaking down the hallway and your head snaps in the direction of Chucho’s room. Your head turns just in time for him to emerge from his room, one brow quirked up at you as he makes immediate eye contact.

Ah. So that eyebrow is genetic, in fact.

You shoot him an uneasy smile as you feel a heat rise to your cheeks, a bit embarrassed at being caught. You can’t help it - it feels like being caught by your own father.

“Mornin’, Pops.”

“Javier,” he responds, deadpan, looking Javi directly in the eye. The heat in your cheeks deepens as Chucho walks over to the stove, starting to fix himself a plate, as well. You and Javi sit in a stunned silence, bodies rigid with the palpable tension between you all. Chucho sighs, still facing the oven, and adds, “so… we’re having breakfast as well as dinner, now?”

You can’t see it, but he has a smirk that rivals Javi’s on his face as he speaks. You snort, placing your coffee mug down before addressing him directly.

“How could I resist a home-cooked meal from Javi himself?”

He turns with his plate now full, and heads toward the two of you. You can see the smile on his face as he walks up behind Javier. “I hope his cooking doesn’t scare you off of our standing dinner dates.”

Javi looks over at you with a wicked smirk and replies, “Oh no, I am certainly countin’ on those to continue,” and then, as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Chucho is smacking him in the head, cursing him under his breath. Javi rubs at the back of his head instinctually with a nervous chuckle and Chucho takes a seat at the head of the table, eyes darting back and forth between you two for a moment.

“Listen, I’m not one to get in the way of things. Treat each other right and I’ve got no opposition. We’re all adults here.”

You heave out a sigh of relief, grateful for the confirmation that he isn’t actually upset with you. You were feeling like a teenager getting caught red-handed with a pack of condoms by your parents.

“You got it, Pops,” Javi responds, and you turn to offer him a gentle look before shifting your attention back to your plate. Something warm blooms in your chest as you consider the exchange.

The three of you finish eating in a comfortable silence before Chucho excuses himself to go off and start the day’s work on the ranch. Javi takes your plate to the sink and when he comes back, he holds his hand out for yours, helping you out of your chair. You walk back to his room together and you start to gather up your things quickly, feeling once again like you’ve overstayed your welcome somehow. Plus, you need to get home and take a shower, brush your teeth, all the things you usually would have done by this point in the morning

“Muñeca, what’s the rush for?” Your head pops up to look at Javi, propped up against the edge of his desk with one foot crossed over the other. You take a deep breath before you respond.

“Just feel like I need to get out of your hair. Also, I need to change, and shower, and brush my teeth, and all the other stuff I do in the morning.” Shrugging, you go back to gathering your things, but you hear him shift and then in just a few steps bring his body within such close of a distance you think you can feel his body heat through the air between you. He tucks a finger under your chin and lifts, forcing you to stand upright as he tugs your head into alignment so that he can look into your eyes.

“At least half of those things, you can do here, instead. Don’t really want to let you go just yet, darlin’.” You’re lost to his gaze, blinking up at him with wide eyes.

“And what are you suggesting, Javi?” He leans down and brushes your lips with his, pulling you into a much tighter embrace as his other hand snakes its way around your hips.

“You said you need a shower, didn’t you? Then shower with me, muñequita. We’ve got running water, too.” You giggle slightly, leaning up just enough to peck him on the lips.

“Well… since you put it like that…” Your hands find their way to his waist, fingers catching in his belt loops as you tug, trying to pull his hips in, against yours. His hand shifts from your chin to wrap into your hair at the back of your head, tugging lightly to expose your neck, where he promptly attaches his lips and teeth to. You groan, letting your head loll to the side as you close your eyes and let him lavish you with the attention of his mouth.

He pulls you toward the door, breaking apart only long enough to lead you straight across the hallway and into the bathroom. He sets you back against the countertop, arms caging you in as he leans in for a much softer kiss than the ones you’ve shared so far. It makes your head spin, twists your insides into a knot, and short circuits your brain for a moment.

When he finally pulls away, you’re breathless, pupils blown out wide and mouth hanging open as you gape up at him. His lips twist into a mischievous smile as he stares at you, his fingers fiddling with the edge of his shirt, still tugged tightly onto your upper body. He eases it over your head, dropping it onto the counter, and reaches for your jeans, deftly unfastening them so you can shimmy them down your body, as well. His shirt comes off, then, his own belt and jeans, and suddenly you’re standing in front of each other in just your underwear.

Javi turns to turn on the shower, letting the water heat up while he puts his hands all over you - sliding up and down your torso, chest, and ass. Gripping the meat of your ass tightly in two large palms, he presses your hips into his again and you can feel his nearly hard cock jabbing into your hip.

“See what you do to me, muñeca? All it takes is looking at you.” You smile back at the praise and run your hands along his arms, winding them around behind his neck as he leans in to kiss you. He checks the temperature of the water quickly and then leads you in, holding your hand as you step over the tub edge and under the spray. You have to admit, it feels nice, and it’s even nicer when he steps in front of you and floods your vision with the broad expanse of his naked torso.

You take your time washing one another, lathering and scrubbing and rinsing in tandem as your hands work all along each other’s skin. It’s such a basic but intimate action that it makes your heart swell to be able to do it, and sets off a pang in your chest when you remember you just met this man last night.

How in the world did he have you falling so head over heels already?

Organically, your gentle scrubbing and lathering hands turn slowly into more sensual touches. Javi’s fingers reach for your ass and inner thighs, hitching one of your legs up into the crook of his elbow.

“Let me feel you, baby,” he drawls, head dipping to mouth at your throat as his fingertips tease at your wet folds. You push your hips into his hand in response and his middle finger finds your clit, drawing little circles around it as you moan softly.

“Fuck, Javi, okay.” Your hands shift then, one moving to rest on his chest as the other reaches for his cock, settling in a loose fist at the base as you start to stroke him with a matching intensity to his lazy circles on your clit. He groans into you ear and presses his finger a little more directly before sliding it down to your entrance and pressing in. His thumb finds your clit again and you can’t help the little whine you let out in response.

“Love all those little sounds you give me, muñequita. Every one of them goes straight to my cock.” He chuckles, nipping at your throat and then your jaw as he pumps his finger in and out of you, eventually adding a second finger. Your strokes along his length quicken, squeezing tighter and adding a little twist to it each time you make your way back up to the head. He moans deeply right into your ear and your eyes close softly, lost in the feeling of it.

With your back pressed up against the cool tile of the shower and the heat of his body pressed against you, it’s not long before he has you shattering into oblivion for him, cumming hard on his fingers as he works you right through your orgasm. As soon as you’re back in your own body a bit, your focus shifts to getting him off, hand diligently stroking his cock, thumb swiping over the reddened tip, until he’s cumming too, shooting bright white streaks all across your belly.

You giggle a little bit and he lets go of your leg as you stand. “I think this shower served the opposite purpose. Now I need to wash myself all over again.” He offers a chuckle as he eases you back to standing, breath still heaving in and out.

“Don’t worry. I’ll help you with that, promise. But give me a minute.” He leans in to kiss you again, though this time is totally different than the way he kissed you against the counter. it’s slow, sweet, gentle, even, his hands rubbing soothing circles over your skin.

When Javi pulls away, he reaches up for the shower head and bring it between the two of you, rinsing off your stomach and himself with the warm water before replacing it and grabbing the soap. Just as he said he would, he carefully lathers you both up before directing you back under the spray and then himself. His lips find yours once more before he winks at you.

“Ready? I’ll give you a new shirt and stop holding you hostage here when we get out. Promise.” Another quick kiss from Javi lets him reach around you and turn off the spray, then turning and helping you back out of the tub. He steps out himself and gathers up two towels, wrapping one around your shoulders before he towels off his hair and his own body.

You take your time drying off and dressing, pausing every once and a while to offer each other gentle kisses and easy smiles. Things between you feel almost too easy, too natural. Togetherness comes to the two of you like second nature. If you knew any better, you’d probably be unnerved by it all, but you don’t, so you soak it in, instead.

Javi leads you back across the hall and, as promised, offers you a clean shirt and a peck on the cheek. He gets himself dressed and helps you gather your things, walking you out into the living room, where Chucho is back from feeding the animals and sitting in his leather chair for a few minutes of rest. Javi leads you to the front door, unlocking it and opening it for the two of you to walk out.

Chucho looks over to you with that signature eyebrow quirk and pipes in, “Same time next week?” You let out a little nervous laugh and you can feel the telltale searing heat work its way back into your cheeks.

“Yeah. Same time next week,” you respond, even more heat blooming in your cheeks, and Javi leads you out of the house. He walks you the whole way to your car with a gentle hand at your lower back, leading you along until you’re at the driver side door and he’s pressing your back up against it, leaning into you.

“I had so much fun with you, muñequita,” he whispers into your ear before nipping lightly at your earlobe. “Thank you.”

That same heat which had only just started to dissipate rises to your cheeks again, and a breath catches in your throat. Swallowing thickly, you look up at him with a small groan and smile back at him.

“I did, too, Javi. you don’t have to thank me.” He shoots back a matching smile and lifts your chin to press a sweet kiss onto your lips.

“Well, I’m thanking you anyway.” He pauses for a beat before he continues. “What do you think about dinner later this week, just the two of us? Or lunch. Anything you want. No Pops invited.” Your smile grows wider as his thumb brushes gently along your cheekbone.

“Yeah? I’d like that a lot, actually.”

He kisses you one more time before taking a step back and shoving his hands in his pockets so he isn’t tempted to keep taking and taking. “Well… It’s a date, then?”

You nod and a light chuckle slips out that you didn’t expect.

“Yeah. It’s a date.”

~~~ a/n: don't forget to like/reply/reblog! I love to hear from you!

#writing #no beta we die like men #javi peña smut #javi peña fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javi peña x reader #javier peña #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal

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