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celenawrites · 11 months

Text

pretty when you cry

pairing - Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

word count - 2.4k

warnings - Ghost is a bit of a dick but he gets better, Reader is a bit of a crybaby here but it's just cuz she's very in tune with her emotions, Simon is emotionally constipated and cannot handle feelings, some fluff, heavy-ish (?) angst, open ending, etc.

Note - Kinda got tired of writing fluffy stuff all the time and my mental health is fraying atm, so I decided to (hopefully) hurt some folks with this little piece. Enjoy!

AO3 Version

Divider by @/firefly-graphics

You cry easy.

That's what Ghost thought of you when you first joined Task Force-141.

While he has always been skeptical of any new additions (often temporary) to the team he has come to love and trust after going through hell and back, Price was convinced that your impeccable record on stealth ops, your physical agility, and your skills as a sniper were much needed.

Reluctantly, Ghost silently accepts his Captain’s decision.

However, time and time again, your sensitive nature had him worried that you might prove to be a heavy liability to the team.

When you stub your toe against the leg of the table, you let out a few tears of frustration and pain, cursing everyone and their mothers while you hold your injured foot in the air as you comically jump around the kitchen, even though your lack of spatial awareness was to be blamed here. It is almost always a comical sight, Gaz rubbing your back in comfort while you curse and cry, failing to hide his amusement. Soap is not afraid to laugh at your face for it, while Price has this twinkle in his eye as he asks you to sit and eat something for breakfast.

Simon ignores the flutter in his stomach when you take a seat next to him on the table, your wet hair letting out wafts of jasmine - all for him to smell and keep to himself.

You cry when you accidentally let the door close on your pinky, dramatic hiccups leaving you as Soap ties up your little finger with white bandages, stroking your hair as he consoles you, "That's a brave lassie, yeah? You got this". (Soap has always been good with people, Simon notes.) Sometimes, Soap will be ‘kind enough’ to offer you to kiss your injuries better and you’d shove him, your face giving away the embarrassment and the humorous jest you feel around the demolition expert.

You weep uncontrollably when you watch Marley and Me with Gaz in the rec room. Price and Ghost had been passing by, discussing the aftermath of a mission they had just returned from when they heard loud sobs coming from the usually empty room. They peer in to find both of you huddled close in soft blankets, a bowl of popcorn propped up in your lap and a box of tissues in Gaz’s lap, as you munch on the buttery snack and cry over the adorable dog finally being put to rest. You lean into Gaz for comfort and Ghost wonders if you still smell of mud and caked blood like you did on the field.

Price decides to break up the party as he enters the room, clearing up his throat to grab the attention of his Sergeants. Your lip wobbles as he lightly scolds you, his brow laden with concern as he looks at you and tells you both to go get some much-needed rest. You pass him by as you leave the room, your hand being a feather’s touch away from his and he almost holds onto you. (He still has no idea why he almost reacted like that to you)

One time, Price had been sent to help Laswell out on a crucial mission and all you had accomplished during those three and a half weeks was mope around and wish your Captain were here. You’d be lying on the sofa in the common room and you’d whine to your companions. “I’m so bored. I miss Captain. I wish he was here”, you’d pout and Soap and Gaz would gang up on you, teasing you as they asked you whether you had some unresolved feelings for dear Price. (The idea of you coveting Price like a lover seemed ridiculous to him, really. You and the Captain? Not a chance)

And then there was that one time when you had to go on a solo mission (the first of you being on your own since you joined the task force, really) and when you had come back to him them, battered and bloodied and disheveled but still safe and sound and Price lets out a sigh of relief, his shoulders sagging as if all the weight of the world has disappeared now that you’re back home, back to your team (where you now rightfully belong). You rush to them, running as if you cannot close the distance between them fast enough, and Price hugs you with steady arms as he lets you cry into his shoulder, wetting his uniform as you all but sob in relief, leaning on your Captain for support as your legs turn like jelly, unable to support the weight of your weary body.

It must’ve been terrifying - being out there on the field, hostility and death surrounding you in all directions and the only person you could possibly rely on is yourself. Keeping yourself safe and sane as you navigate unknown terrain and fight off the monsters who wear the skins of humans and pollute the very Earth they have been raised on. Blood and gore and gunpowder clinging to you like a second skin as you pray to survive another night and make it back home safely. Back to your team.

Back to your kind captain, and sergeants you have befriended and a cold Lieutenant who sometimes fails to hide the care he carries for you in his brown eyes.

Price has a look of sympathy and understanding on his face as he drags you to the infirmary, even holding your trembling hand in his warm palm as you flinch at the sight of the large syringe needle and hiss in pain whenever the alcohol-soaked cotton is applied to your cuts. He soothes you with a gentle pat on your back, mindful of your treated injuries as he softly tells you to clean up and maybe get some much needed sleep, asking Gaz to supply you with something to eat before you doze off due to fatigue and the morphine still floating in your system.

Ghost found it annoying for the most part - sometimes snapping at you to "Shut up and focus" on bad days and while he’s still irked at the sentimentality you possess, something that he and his comrades have willingly allowed to wither and die in their souls, a small part of him - a part of him that still resembles who Simon was, a mimicry of the humanness he hasn’t felt in his dead soul for years, worried about you. Worried sick about you and your emotions and the lack of lid you have on it. Worried if he had been too harsh on you because he doesn’t do emotions, and clearly he is out of his depth when it comes to dealing with people, but especially when it comes to dealing with you.

He realizes he doesn’t mind you crying all that much.

You go out for drinks to celebrate your successful solo mission and you spend the time you had lost on the field with your teammates - you play billiards with Gaz against Soap and Ghost and lose sorely, and then you try out a peg of whiskey the Captain has ordered and Price laughs heartily as you sputter and whine as the drink burns your esophagus. You somehow convince Ghost to teach you how to throw darts and he tries to not lean into your warmth as he stands behind you, his gloved hand holding your wrist as he positions you and teaches you how to throw the wooden dart you hold between your smooth fingers, and tells you all he knows about making sure that the little thing hits the dartboard without fail.

Simon can smell your jasmine shampoo and your citrus perfume on you as he uses his hands to correct your posture. He can feel how soft and pliant you are under him, eager to obey and please him, and all he can think about is what it’d be like - being your confidante, being the voice of reason for you when you’re drowning in emotions, being a sturdy shoulder for you to cry on.

And he knows for a fact that you’d be all that and more in a heartbeat if he allowed you to.

You lean onto Simon for support, your head lolling onto his shoulder as he quietly guides you to your bedroom. You hum quietly as he carefully makes you lie down on your bed, removing your shoes for you and when you beg him to help you remove the little makeup you had applied for the night (Price blatantly ignoring the use of contraband because it’s you), he surprisingly complies. Years of applying camo paint on his face give him the needed experience around using micellar water and makeup wipes as he helps you prepare yourself for a night of mindless sleeping, which will be followed by a hangover in the morning plaguing almost all of them. (He swears he’ll force you to drink the ginger tea he’ll make, no matter how much you’d whine about it tasting ‘yucky’. He’d rather not have you hurling over everything like a cat with a persistent hairball stuck in its throat).

“I’m so happy”, you hum to yourself as Simon tilts your head up.

“Close your eyes, Sergeant”, he orders and you comply, feeling the soaked cotton pad rub against your eyelids as your Lieutenant removes your pink eye shadow. It’s a pretty color on you, Simon thinks but he never says it out loud.

You stay silent as he finishes up with your work, his calloused fingertips tilting and moving your head to look at any missed spots he might’ve overlooked in the dim bedroom light.

“All done”, he scruffs, getting up on his feet and he hears you call out to him as he leaves the room.

“What is it?” he asks, wishing to be in his warm bed on this cold night.

“Thank you, sir”, you say earnestly with your eyes shining with sincerity and an unrecognizable emotion.

Simon observes you - you lying on your bed in the clothes you wore to the bar, with most of your makeup removed and your eyes struggling to stay open as intoxication and tiredness tempt you to forget the world and sleep.

A moment too late, he asks you, “What are you thanking me for, rookie?”

Only to find you out cold.

He sighs, draping the thin blanket over your shivering body and leaving you alone in your room.

When you wake up the next day with a hangover headache, your makeup removed and your blanket draped over you tenderly, you make your way to the common kitchen and you ask your moody superior if he remembers anything from the night before - your hazy memory failing to cover the gaps in your memory.

He gruffly says out, “No” and then hands you a cup of ginger tea, looking at you intensely as he waits for you to whine about the bitter taste of the tea he’s made for you. Knowing it’s a lost fight, you let out an exasperated sigh and thank your Lieutenant for the hangover cure. He looks at you a beat too long before leaving you to your own devices, exiting the room, and going God knows where.

It takes him time, with all that he is and all that he has been through, to come to a new conclusion for his first impression of you. Steadily with time, Simon realizes that the reason you cry so easily is not because you're weak.

It’s because you’re brave.

Brave enough to express yourself and not fear rejection from others. Brave enough to show that you care, to show that you love life and people and everything life has to offer. Brave and kind and valiant in everything you do, Simon is almost jealous of your ability to be so open and free. He wonders what it would be like to let go and just allow himself to feel.

It’d probably drown him alive.

It might set him free.

He’d never get the chance to know though.

Now again, you sob as you put pressure on his abdomen wound as you talk to him with a wet, unstable voice, “Stay awake for me, Lt. We will all make it”. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself more than him. (You need that reassurance more than him anyway).

He’s sluggish, the blood loss and pain makes it hard for him to focus on your blurry face and the skull mask on his face doesn’t help him either. He’s immobile, despite trying his level best to raise his hand up so that he can wipe away the stray tears on your cheeks. He parts his lips to tell you to please stop crying, to tell you how he’s not worth the worry, he’s not worthy of your tears - not when he has vehemently admonished you for them all this time.

But all he can do is let out a low moan of pain, his eyes rolling back in his head. He can hear your voice, can hear the worry and fear and panic as you call out to him, but everything is hard and he can hear you but comprehending your words is near impossible with the ringing in his ears and the whirring of the helicopter that came in to rescue him and his team. He’s aware of his teammates sitting beside him - he can imagine their solemn faces as they cope with the possibility of him succumbing to his wounds before they make it back to safety. But he focuses on you instead - sweet, radiant you who worries about everyone and everything; who wears her heart on her sleeve and still holds onto the hope that he will make it out of this ordeal alive, even though he can feel his life slipping away from him like the sands of time.

Each breath of his is labored, and Simon wishes for nothing more than to wipe away your tears or to maybe hold your soft self against his injured body, cradling you close to his heart as he vows to survive this for you. Only for you.

Through black spots and dryness, he blinks up to look at you and he has this realization, a moment of pure ‘Eureka!’ as he observes your worsened state of being.

You have never been prettier than this instant, crying over him and praying to any kind of deity who’d grant him the boon of life.

Satisfied with his discovery and suddenly extremely tired, he allows himself to close his eyes, letting the fatigue win and the last thing he sees is you crying for him to stay alive and fight.

The last thing he hears is your sobs as you beg someone, anyone to save your Lieutenant.

Note -

Title is thanks to the song 'Pretty When You Cry' by Lana Del Rey, although I wasn't actually listening to the song while writing this.

#call of duty #cod #cod:mw2 #simon riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty fluff #call of duty angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon ghost riley fluff #call of duty headcanons #char.simon ghost riley

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adelheidvonschicksal · 4 months

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ᴄʜᴇʀʀʏ

Summary: You make for a good distraction when things get tough. Sukuna's fingers may be bitter, but your kisses are sweet.

Pairing: Itadori x GN!Reader

Tags: fluff, light angst, hurt and comfort, developing relationships, sfw

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The fingers of Sukuna are an ugly sight; burnt burgundy and twistedly decrepit, crowned with a pointed black nail that scratches at Itadori’s throat whenever he swallows one. The taste is even worse, akin to someone soaking an old cigar in cloudy mop water before clumsily preserving it in candle wax.

It takes all his strength to not pucker his face and dig his nails into the column of his neck whenever the soapy wax flavor hits his tongue. Every fiber of his body would react to reject the intrusion. The lingering aftertaste was another issue. He couldn’t erase it by scraping his tongue against his teeth; burying it with sweet or spicy foods after a mission only helped so much, leaving him to wait until it disappeared on its own as the hours past. He thought it would get easier every time; and for a while, it did.

Until it didn't.

He wanted to stop. But he couldn't stop, not after all this, not until he eats them all, not until he makes everyone's suffering mean something.

So, when he’s about to eat another finger after a grueling, emotionally draining late-evening mission, he braces himself.

As always, the flavor is waxxy, almost non-existent, then putrid when he accidentally bites down. His body knee jerks to react, gag reflex hiccuping and stomach bile rising to reject it, to tell him to spit it out. He closes his eyes tight and squeezes at his throat to loosen the straining muscles, begging his body to hurry up and accept it so it would end faster. Sukuna and everything that comes with eating these cursed objects. It doesn’t want to give in this time, and he squats as if it could help and also because he's so tired of this.

Suddenly, there’s a subtle sweetness, like fruit on the tongue, cutting through the taint. It’s an easy succor to chase and mold to while a comforting force travels up his neck and over his hands, gently forcing them to drop so it can replace them. This touch eventually settles under his bottom eyelids, smooth crescents drawing right along his cheekbones.

This taste is not exactly as strong as the sugar and spice that he normally uses to cover up the filthy flavor in his mouth but there’s something relaxing about the warmth that accompanies it and settles against his lips. Prayers answered, his clenching throat relaxes, allowing him to swallow, and his body quickly adapts to the new addition.

When the sensation stops, Itadori can finally open his eyes.

It’s you.

You’re here, kneeling in front of him and glowing against the dark backdrop of the night that you’re a little blinding to his lagging mind.

How could he forget that you came here with him?

There’s a soft silence flowing between you, and he only now notices that you’re holding his face. However, he doesn’t feel the need to make you let go as heat creeps up his skin and his heart begins to echo in his chest, temporarily numbing his mind from the sour aftereffects of eating Sukuna’s fingers.

“Better?” you ask with a small tilt of your head.

Itadori is caught off-guard by the question, feeling a bit dazed and more than a little confused.

“It’s…better,” he eventually mumbles so quietly that his voice gets buried under the breeze. “Thanks.”

His eyes drift lower on your face, finding your lips. He fights the blush threatening to overtake him as he takes in the reddish shine on your lips and pieces together what happened.

“Strawberry?” he hoarsely asks, half-jokingly and half because he feels as if he needs to say something, or else it would be awkward, wouldn’t it?

“Cherry, actually,” you correct with a tiny smile.

“Oh,” he exclaims, his cheeks still a pretty pink as he wonders if the kiss was something you wanted to do. He wonders why it made him feel so much better. He wonders if that would be something you do next time or if this was simply a one-off action thought of in the heat of the moment. He also wonders, for a moment, if he deserved it.

“Could you…” he begins then hesitates.

Is he even allowed to ask such a thing?

“Do that again?” He requests and shamefully palms at his chest for daring to ask for something so personal. “It’s uhm, the aftertaste.”

It’s partially the truth and partially because he wants to figure out why.

Nodding, you give in more readily than he expects and lean in to kiss him again. This time he dares to press the tip of his tongue against your lips, too nervous and confused to breach between them.

You’re right. It’s sweet, slightly tart, blatantly artificial, but so much better than anything else he can imagine right now. Yet he doesn't think it's the gloss causing his body to ease, if only a little.

When you pull away, he finds his mind finally catching up and blushes at the fact your lips are still so close to his. Exhaling slowly, he tries to ignore the dull ache still bubbling in his chest in exchange for thinking about the taste you left behind, the one that makes soft emotions emerge from his heart like a butterfly from its cocoon when he looks at you.

“Yeah…" he reinforces dreamily, letting the wind once again carry away his words, "It’s cherry.”

#itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #jjk x reader #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader #gender neutral reader #hurt/comfort

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grandlinedreams · 8 months

Note

what about ace waking in the night with you sobbing quietly in his arms, still trying to deal with the fact that he is here, with you, despite the marine ford incident? idk but just the idea of being so emotionally overwhelmed after seeing your partner almost die, and then him trying to comfort you warms my heart <33

PLEASE yes i can I was in my ace feelings today :')

[Heads up!: mention of Marineford, hurt/comfort]

"Thank-you for loving me."

You wake with a sharp inhale, cheeks wet and lips parted around a silent scream of Ace's name. It takes a long moment for you to register where you are, the room dark save for the spill of moonlight through the window.

You're not alone, either ㅡ there's a familiar set of arms wound around your waist, anchoring you to a body that always runs far warmer than your own.

Ace.

You stare at his face, relaxed in sleep ㅡ unaware that you've been woken from another nightmare about his death. A death narrowly avoided ㅡ you trace unbroken skin, shuddering at what could have been. He'd gotten lucky. He's here, alive, safe.

And yet you can't stop crying. You try to stay quiet, keep the shuddering hiccups soft ㅡ but either you're louder than you think or Ace isn't sleeping as well as he says he does, because he stirs.

"That nightmare again?" He asks softly, heart aching at the shine of tears on your cheeks, wondering how long you've been awake. You nod, reaching up to scrub at your eyes.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, voice wobbling. "I woke you up."

"Shh," Ace soothes, moving to tuck you further against him, humming as you cling to him. "It's okay. You're okay, I've got you."

Ace lets you cry. He hates it, hates that you're hurting like this ㅡ but he lets you cry until you have nothing left, rubbing your back as you shudder.

"It was just a bad dream, okay?" He kisses your shoulder, murmuring against your skin. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

"You don't know that," you protest weakly, even as you cling to him as tight as you can.

"No," Ace admits softly, adjusting enough to kiss your cheek, then your temple. "But we'll take it day by day, okay? We can do that."

You pull away enough to look at him properly, and his heart twinges at how tired you look. "I'm scared, Ace."

"Me too." He kisses your forehead. "We can be scared together." His lips ghost along the bridge of your nose. "But as I said, we take it day by day, step by step. Let's start by getting some sleep, okay?"

"Okay." Your voice is soft, a barely there whisper. But it's still an answer, and Ace rewards you with a proper kiss, soft and slow. "What if I have that nightmare again?"

"Then I'll be here to help you feel better," Ace answers, cuddling you him, bodies slotted together like puzzle pieces. "I'll be here for as long as I can, for as long as you want me."

#ㅡmine.#one piece x reader #one piece scenario #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ㅡanswered.#anonymous #–ml: ace.#welp im sad now time for bed #but also manifesting more ace requests

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hyukaslvr · 2 months

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strong enough | J. Jungkook (3)

<series masterlist

pairing: Jungkook x (f) reader

genre/tags: idol! Jungkook, idol! reader, idiot exes to lovers, slow burn ; k-drama feels (our beloved summer but not at the same time), angst, drama, fluff, smut

warnings: foul/explicit language, alcohol consumption, unhealthy coping mechanisms, feelings of helplessness, insecurities; commitment issues & emotionally constipated characters, panic attacks, reader is harsh towards Jungkook, Jungkook is a meanie!, mentions of old abuse (major trigger warning!!), talk about blood and wounds

w.c: aproxx 11.2

series summary: you and Jungkook have too many personal problems, during and after your relationship and it keeps getting brought up. you both had tried multiple times to ignore the fact you were both struggling mentally and physically due to your workplace, but you always run back to each other. maybe one day, one day you'll get back to each other, with all your problems handled, maybe not. all you want is for him to shine like he always does, all he wants is you.

a/n at very bottom!

To my love, my forever. You will soon find out the reason why I am the way am I. Give me some time, my love, I will express everything and more to you. Soon, you’ll have everything once I am able to love and care for myself the way I want to do to you. You deserve everything and more than what I could ever give you, and I will be there for you always. I may never give you this, I may never allow you to read this. But just know, you mean so much to me. Even if I’m a pain in the ass, or if I piss you off, you will always be the person who helped me want to change for the better. I know it may seem like i’m leaving you behind, but pushing you away is the best way for me and you to be able to find ourselves. Once we are settled and ready, I will never let you go, ever again. Mark my words, use them against me, but I know that once you let me in, I’ll never leave your side ever again. You’re my one and only, forever. You are my future, my light, the person who drags me to be right. You mean so much to me and more. But for now, let me go to become the one that deserves your love and wellbeing. Take care of yourself, Jungkook, you will do many good things in life, with or without me.

“i think you should give it to him,” one of your members slur out, making your already wobbly head tilt up to her as she hiccups for the 5th time that same hour, you sighed and your head pounded as your squinted tightly to look at her, “seriously! i think he would want closure that way,”

Jungkook definitely did. he knew that when you wrote letters, you meant every little thing. he knew something happened between you and your ex, his name is like a slap in the face to you, and he could always notice.

his hands started to shake as he continued to read your note, he didn’t know how you came all the way to his house just to ring the door bell and drop it off. he was even shocked to notice his name in your handwriting on the top of the note. he wasn’t mad about it, he was just so, so sad. his eyes burned as another drop fell onto his lap. Jungkook knew it was for the best, but why does it hurt so bad and why does he feel like he’ll never get better while you do?

Jungkook didn’t want to think that way, but he did. he always did, he hurts to see you go but hurts even more to see you shine without him. he kept all your little notes in a box, he was really considering giving it back to you since it was at some of your most vulnerable times. he wouldn’t want to keep these just in case he snoops through them, like he’s doing right now as he was putting the other note in there along with the tons of others.

one of them wrote a song that you made about him, him never leaving you and the way you love him. it breaks his heart more, knowing that you’re no longer around, and that he just keeps fucking up.

when you wake up the next morning, your hungover member told you about a box she found outside the door step with your name on it, your ears ring as you stand in front of the box sitting on your bed, biting the inside of your cheek because this was Jungkook’s box. it had a polaroid of the two of you with shots in your hands on his balcony last summer. it was his favorite picture of you both and wanted to keep it with all the letters you even written him.

you pace around your room for like and hour, biting your lip and running your hand through your hair to calm yourself down. it finally felt like you guys were officially over, no matter how many times you’ve broken up. when you opened it finally, there was a new one, one you definitely didn’t write. you don’t even remember going to his house and giving him the one you were gonna keep for your sake.

it was Jungkook’s hand writing, you knew it from the back of your palm, literally as you have a tattoo that he gave you himself. it read,

forever

and looking at it makes you sick. you felt like crap anytime you thought of him, what you had put him through, all the stuff he doesn’t know about you. you knew him so well, but did he actually even know you, truly? it made you want to cry, the tears lining your waterline and you fight the urge.

you give yourself time before opening up his letter, preparing yourself for the worst or to cry. when you start reading it, you felt like he was there with you. it felt as if he was pacing around your room, looking you dead in the eyes and telling you everything you’ve been wanting to hear, but at the wrong time.

I miss you a lot, I know I say that a lot, but it’s true. I’m glad you wrote me this, I’m glad you’re trying to find ways to open up to me, I’m glad you love me. You are my everything, I want what’s best for you, and if it’s not me then so be it. You deserve the whole fucking world, and I hope you know I tried so hard to give it to you. Maybe, in the long run, we can be happy together. Maybe we can be able to know each other truly, I always wanted to. I believe in right person, wrong time, because you’ll forever be my person, even if i’m not in the picture. I love you, ______, I always will.

you wanted to sob, you didn’t even know what to do. you had dropped the note off not expecting anything back, but getting everything back? even a letter from him, confessing how much he loves and cares for you. you didn’t know how to feel, if it was closure or not. to you, yours was supposed to be. his, his was a love letter, you’ll never let go of it.

you had one more promotion for you group, and you had to prepare in so many ways. you had to practice tons, and practing handling your emotions until you’re a zombie to what you truly feel, you couldn’t handle being around Jungkook for long. it’s crazy, how much you used to look at him thinking you’d never do anything to hurt him, yet you’re over here making him suffer because you are in your head. it tears at the deepest parts of you, and it makes you feel so much at once.

so when it came to the event, you felt your knees lock when you saw him sitting with his team. he looked breathtaking, and it sucks that you can’t look at him for long before you cry because he looks too good. Jungkook always looked good, but whenever you wanted to ignore him, it’s like he knows and wants to look that fine. you gulp hard because walking to over your assigned seats, a couple seats back behind them but at an angle to a way that you can see every part of Jungkook, his hands and thighs especially.

ones that put you through hell, sent you to another universe is what he would of said and has said before, smoking off your balcony as you sat on his lap with your legs shaking trying to not fall off. he laughed as he smacked your thighs, watching them shake more as you practically whine in soreness.

he took another puff off his cig before putting it down on his designated ash tray, but even knowing you didn’t smoke, he kissed you hard, forcing the hot smoke into your mouth and through your pipes, allowing him to do anything to you because you were obsessed with everything he did.

“fucked you out, huh, princess?” he said against your ear as he gave you a second to breathe, making you almost choke as his hand started to move down and between your thighs, giving them a squeeze before going deep between them to touch you where you shook the most.

let’s just say, the memory had your legs close tightly together. the thought of how much have gave you that night, it made you miss him even more for just taking care of you like he said he would. you could feel it starting to stick against your skin, immediately wanting to go to the bathroom.

you thought you were stable enough to walk down the stairs in front of all the idols and fans including, instead you almost dropped face first into the steps instead someone’s hand wrapped around your waist and around the inside of your thigh, gripping it hard as they held you from falling to your death infront of thousands of people.

“your shoes too big for you, baby?”

you really thought you were going crazy, that his presence was just teasing you. but as your eyes dragged themselves down to the hand around the inside of your thigh, you weren’t going crazy. the tattoos proving who the man really was and how his thumb was very close to your throbbing clit. you shivered before quicking bowing at him once you leave his grip and speed walking towards the exit.

the moment you got alone in a hallway, you looked around before pulling out your phone to text your leader where you were going to be, the bathroom, before you hear a door open behind you. you go to put your phone away, but a tight grip around your waist turns you towards the person, your phone falling on to the floor and your mouth to open up, perfect for the attacker to kiss you hard.

another hand grabs your hair and you immediately knew who it was based on the way he was holding you. he knew, and knew it was because of him. that’s all your thought about when his lips were softly against yours, until you felt his hands creeping up. he just knew how to distract you from the facts and knows how to get you to enjoy his attack.

“can we talk soon, princess?” he whispers lowly in your ear once he pulls away from your now desperate lips trying to reach his. you whimper at the nickname, one that just rolls off his tongue in such a degrading way, he grabs your chin softly, turning your face to face him. his eyes invited yours, and the longer you looked into them, the more you felt entranced by him.

“talk about what?” you sighed into his hold, which he notices and gives you your favorite smile in the whole world. it hard to ignore his hands gripping your waist, your hands clinging onto his dress shirt as he holds you, you didn’t expect to be in this position.

“we will talk later tonight, i’ll pick you up?”

“how, with what car-”

“i’ll figure it out, anything for you,” he presses his forehead against yours, making your eyes squeeze shut as he lets out a little chuckle because of your reaction to his proximity being so close to you, you could almost feel his breath against your lips. “you know i’ll do whatever i need to do to see you, i will figure out a way to see you later tonight, bunny, i promise,” he kisses your nose softly before letting you go without your even realizing he picked up your phone for you, a smile across his face as you nodded your head for him.

Jungkook didn’t give you a time, or a place to when he was going to pick you up. before you left the event, you had asked him what he was planning on doing with you and he just told you that you’ll have to wait and find out. Jungkook knew how to make you worry about what could happen. what should you even wear? is he taking me somewhere to eat? it’s kinda late for that-

doink

something just hit your window as you were pulling your pants up, you almost tripped in shock but managed to pull them up and fix yourself before going to your window. there he was, the man of your dreams, the love of your life, standing down there searching for more rocks to toss at your window.

you cracked your dorm room window open, not even wanting to question how he managed to get over the brick wall to get into the dorms, and he smiles when he sees your head peaking from the bottom of the window. he pats his hands on his thighs while you watch him with curiosity.

“get down here bunny, we have a lot to do tonight,” he stood up straight, hands put in his pockets as he stared off at you. you would of jumped right there into his arms after that nickname, you almost whined before nodding your head like an idiot and shutting your window.

you managed to sneak out, grabbed your shoes at the front and headed out from the back blind spot and running to where Jungkook stood, his hands tucked in his pockets to stay warm. his left arm raised so you could wrap your arm around it, a habit of the both of you. you just ignored the bad feelings and wrapped your arm around his, feeling his arm tighten around yours as you both started to walk to the car.

“you gonna tell me where we’re going, Jeon?” you tilt your head, your left knee against his center console as your left side rested on his passenger seat. his hand slid up to your knee, leaving you in shock as he gripped it in warning.

“stop asking questions, baby,” he tapped his finger on your knee, not even bothering to look your way. you huffed as you closed your eyes, trying to ignore his thumb moving against your thigh now, his hand resting against it too.

“Jungkook, you know we can be doing this again. i know you remember what happened last time,” you warned, your head felt like it was spinning, none of this felt real. Jungkook bit his lip ring in thought, he just wanted to talk to you and apologize. he always wants to talk to you even if he’s been rude.

“______, what do you think i’m going to do to you tonight?” he spoke deeply, it sent waves through your spine, and down to your poor kitty. it’s crazy, what this big eyed man can do to you with only his hand on your thigh while he speaks to you like your his.

“i- i don’t know, what are you asking me? i’m just confused why you’re doing this-”

“what do you want me to do to you tonight, baby? is there something else bothering you that only i can fix?” his hand rubs your inner thigh, occasionally softly squeezing the skin closest to where you needed help the most. “i’ll do whatever you want me to do to you, you just have to speak up, darling. is that okay? can you do that for me, princess?”

you almost moaned, gasping at his eagerness to help you with whatever you want, and you knew he meant that. “Jungkook, we can’t be doing thing again, as much as we want to-”

“fuck that and fuck no contact, we were doing good as fuck the last time we were friends. can we not be friends, baby?”

“that’s why! you keep calling me my favorites, you can’t do that to me..” you whined, you wanted to hide away as he giggled at how you whined. when the car slowly starts to come to a stop, you got reminded that the whole time you were talking to him, getting teased by him, he was driving. “Jungkook… where are we?”

“let me help you out and show you,” he smiled, and you just knew that you had to trust him, why? because he’s Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t you trust the love of your life?

when he open your door, hand already reaching for his as he helped you out of the car, the smell of salt hit your face in a whiff, making you smile at the moment you had at this beach with Jungkook. but why here? why did he want to talk here?

you didn’t trust your voice, watching his open his back door to grab a blanket and cigs, which you thought he quit, with a lighter and a flashlight. you didn’t say a word as you hugged onto his arm as he walked to a specific place, your guys place. the place where he gave you head for the very first time, you found sand up there for at least a day after that.

“do you trust me, sugar?” Jungkook asked you, tugging you to sit next to him on the blanket over the cold sand at the dark lonely beach. it’s like he knew what you were worried about, could you trust him again? it’s not like he broke your trust, it’s about you trusting yourself around him. if anything besides talking happens tonight, and you guys become exactly what you were afraid of becoming, you won’t know what to do with yourself.

it’s a bit selfish you thought, as his hand rested against your shoulder as you snuggled against his neck, breathing in only Jungkook and a little bit of salt. you loved this, but it couldn’t get any farther than this. just small, and slight, touches and sometimes kisses, only at certain times. the sound of the waves crashing tingled your ears, debating if you should listen to his heartbeat or not.

“do you know why i want you out here with me tonight, baby?” his voice vibrated your cheek as he spoke, his fingers gliding against the thin fabric of your long sleeved shirt. you hummed, you felt him swallow before you moved your head to face him.

“i wouldn’t have asked you that a million times in the car, Jungkook,” he smiles when your eyes finally reach his. he used to ask you, what did you see when you looked into his eyes? you usually just laughed it off or ignored the question, but now you think you know the questions answer. Home. in other words, Jungkook was your confort, the one you would go to, the one who makes you feel the safest, the one who keeps you feeling warm. Jungkook was your favorite.

Jungkook leans in, you can almost feel his breath against the wind, you almost forget where you are when you look deeply into his eyes. he leans so close to you that you could almost kiss him. you feel his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you closer- and closer to him, until your hovering above him.

you looked down at him, his hand sliding down your waist and on to your thigh to swing your leg over his body. he’s got you now, almost spread wide for him as his eyes glazed your entire body, making your shiver.

“let’s that about why you were so wet when i caught you from eating shit in front of everyone today, huh? or maybe… why you’re so wet right now, was it from the car ride? you just couldn’t wait, hm? baby?” he smacked your thigh, and you almost whimper at his words, “sit down on me, love. you know you want to. i’ll do anything you want me to, just let me in this one or more times and you won’t regret it this time,”

oh boy, you were in for a ride. baby, princess, sugar, darling, bunny, love. hearing that one burned, deeply in two places. your poor heart as you feel his hands grip your sides, and your poor throbbing cunt that it about to get slammed onto his hard on resting below you. either or, you know you’re safe and whatever happens can be dealt with. why? because you’re with Jeon Jungkook, why wouldn’t it be fine?

a/n: holy shit, this took forever and i sincerely apologize!! i love how this episode turned out and i will give you guys a slight warning! spicy scenes are coming up and I’m not backing down from this. it will be the dirtiest, most greatest- yeah! anyways, thank you for your patience, i love you all🥹

taglist: @loumin908 @heartjiminie @cuntessaiii @parkinglot-nights @minsoa97kor @jkgirlfr @lavendersugarplum @gaebestie @whoa-jo @kp0pficdump @yunholuv @skzthinker @shwkoqp18 @veemegatron @kaiparkerwifes @alextgef @nerdycheol @nightappple @nlr1606 @chl0buggy

if your tag isn’t gray, please fix your settings so i can tag you next time love!

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voidpacifist · 9 months

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I have a new brainworm about steve harrington that I need (NEED!!) to share

imagine this for me: it's 1983. nothing eventful happens, at least in the supernatural sense. steve and nancy still date, he still drops his terrible friends when he realizes they're not gonna support him if it doesn't fit their agenda, he still accidentally becomes close to a bunch of seventh graders when nance asks him if he can babysit--

(not that he'd ever say no to her, but it's not what he envisioned the summer of '84 to be like, okay?)

--and overall, things are relatively normal for him. his parents continue to be absent, but they still get excited for him when they learn he has a girlfriend or won a new award at the end of the school year for something sporty or what have you. they're not bad people, they just don't know how to be good parents. and they're always, always away.

but the thing about 1983, is that his final interaction with tommy before he "broke up" their friendship by dating someone kind and sweet and "perfect" like nancy, was him getting absolutely wailed on. enough that he went to the hospital with a severe concussion and some damage to his optic nerve. the doctors told him he already has something going on with his vision to begin with, probably a genetic disease passed down from one of his folks, that increase his chances of going blind earlier in life. meaning, if push came to shove, his vision could go entirely if he got into any more scruples with ex-friends or people who just generally disliked him.

and then lucas sinclair asks him for dating advice, because he likes max mayfield, the new girl in his class, and ultimately it lands steve being the chauffeur for their first date just days after halloween in 1984. by now, he and nancy have broken up — they weren't emotionally available in the ways they needed to be with one another, and steve knows his dream of the future is different from her own. this time, there's no speech about bullshit or faking it. they simply both know that their expiration is upon them and call it quits.

(it still hurts, but he told lucas to shoot his shot, because if there's anything he's learned by dating nancy wheeler, it's that projecting his heartbreak and hurt onto others is a gateway to toxicity in the water; and by god he is not sabotaging this kids emotional maturity, okay? okay)

so he takes the kids to bennys burgers, because lucas insists it's "cool enough" for this girl, and he doesn't want to overdo it by going somewhere too fancy. but when steve returns to pick them up, there's a hiccup in the plan.

billy, maxs step-brother and steve's most recent bother at school, is there, gearing up to try and scare lucas off, or do something worse. steve, anointed babysitter and generally protective friend, steps in without hesitation. the fight that results makes the local news. steve lands in the hospital again.

his vision doesn't go completely, but it goes enough. enough that he can't drive, enough that he'll have to find large print books or simply relearn to read altogether in braille. enough that he's advised to get a cane or a guide dog. enough that, when all is said and done, his old life has been completely upended.

jonathan--

(the same jonathan who has now swept nancy off her feet the way steve used to)

--surprisingly, is the one who ends up getting close to steve after this. he tells steve about what it was like when will was found after being missing for a week, about how he knows it isn't the same, but that he relates to the feeling of oh god, everythings different and nothing I used to have is coming back. he doesn't divulge on the details, but steve knows he's serious about understanding the feeling.

even more surprising is nancy, who commands him every day that god dammit steve, your life is not coming back unless you take it back yourself and then reassures him in the same breath that he's not weak for needing help doing so.

and then the kids join in too. and steve harrington isnt a king anymore of anything, but he's the king of his own life, he's the king of himself. he starts going back to school even when he feels embarrassed to be there, like he's an imposter or ill equipped. he starts going to public places just to meet poorly concealed whispers with something friendly and witty in return. he starts taking his power back in a way that never needs to hurt anyone, that never needs to hurt himself.

he also discovers he loves bright colors — neons and pinks and reds especially. he takes a trip with nancy and barb one day to indy on some sort of girls trip (they've long since made up since the first house party, and barb latches onto steve as a best friend shockingly fast in the wake of his and tommy's split), and it's there that he meets someone punk for the first time. he develops a fixation on the colored hair, the leather and spikes and denim with safety pins in it. he badgers the girls about teaching him how to wear eyeliner.

it's his gateway into punk style, which is then a further path into the subculture itself, into colored laces and battle vests and the politics and social aspects. steve takes to it like a fish to water.

the name steve harrington used to mean something entirely different. even though he calls his parents every day since the incident, even though they've been back to see him multiple times, even though they've tried to be present in their strange, semi-absent way, they still haven't seen him since his transformation from local jock to local punk.

needless to say, he spends a lot more time educating them about his "waywardness" and a lot less time actually excitedly telling them about the next color of his hair. but the harringtons aren't unaware — they can see how while this may be a creative way for steve to begin expressing and discovering himself, it's also an armor. no one really wants to fuck with someone who will trip you with his cane if you're being an asshole, someone who wears a lot of spikes and other sharp objects on their body for fun.

so they let it be. and they stay a little longer, this time.

this shift doesn't go unnoticed by the local gossips, but it also doesn't go unnoticed by the "freaks and geeks" at school. he develops, quite by accident, a reputation that rivals that of the king of freaks at hawkins. eddie munson wears the title proudly, clings to it with every antic and every quip that feeds into the rumors about him. but he respects what it took for steve to get here.

so he invites him along to a hellfire session. which turns into two. which turns into steve becoming a party member, which turns into him excitedly telling the kids he babysits that he gets it now, that yes, they can absolutely host their games at his house as long as they have rides back home.

but as he and eddie get closer as friends, eddie notices that as well as steve has done accepting himself as he is, he still misses the things he used to do without thinking much about needing sight to do it. contact sports and movies and other very visually inclined things. and listen, eddie's happy that steve has renounced the toxic social scene of jockdom, he really is, but he also recognizes a guy who misses pieces of his old life.

(he finds himself missing his old life, the life before wayne, all the time, just for the parts that didn't hurt him)

so eddie, much to steves surprise, suggests he try joining the swim team for the final quarter of his senior year. and hey, fuck it, what can it hurt? he's already a nerd now as well as a punk as well as disabled — he can go for one more oddball, not-quite-jock occupation. the coach has several stipulations, all of which steve takes in stride.

he's granted a tryout. he doesn't make it on.

eddie, in his wildest nightmares, doesn't touch sports. he's already athletic in other regards, naturally good at sprinting and lifting heavy things from taking equipment to and from band practice. he doesn't think he actually needs sports, but he's willing to go with steve to lake jordan to keep practicing. he's seen how stubborn harrington is, and he's not about to stop it.

eventually, they do these laps across the lake and back (it's a pretty small lake) just to get high once they're done. and fuck, if steve can swim the length of the lake, he can get a job at the new starcourt mall. and he does. he's there at scoops ahoy the bare minimum of hours they're required to give him to technically say he's employed, but at least he has work. his friends visit him there after their own jobs are done for the day, and eddie consistently shows up just to bug him.

robin, his coworker, is impressed and startled by this version of steve. she'd say she doesn't trust it, but there's nothing to trust really, about the shock of bright green hair or the way his eyes aren't actually that focused looking, or about the way he casually tells stories about getting high and swimming the length of lake jordan. not to mention, the chemistry he can't physically or metaphorically see between him and eddie is laughable to her, and entirely too obvious.

she ends up with one bad trip from the wrong dealer, and steve stays with her through the comedown, and she realizes she would probably die for him, because he sits there and listens to her buzzed ramble about tammy thompson and his bagel crumbs and other dumb shit from when he was still in high school. he's the first person she's ever come out to, and she's the first person he's ever thought could be a soulmate, the kind he'd never give his body but would marry in a heartbeat if she asked him.

he tells her about billy. she tells him about her mother. they tell each other a lot of secrets, more than he's ever told jonathan and nancy, or barb, or even eddie.

and then their workplace gets set on fire from a gas leak after hours. they pack up and go to family video, because they're a package deal. it's barb being on the crew that convinces keith to let steve take the job, and he has a new shtick joking about being a blind guy who likes movies.

then eddie probably takes him to one or two or maybe five. then they maybe make out after one of their swims. then steve starts going to eddies shows at the hideout, starts going with him damn near everywhere, and this was the kind of companionship he needed from the get go but didn't have. the kind where they support each other's interests without changing themselves for it, the kind where there is love born from fierce and unwavering friendship, the kind where loyalty is unquestionable but agreeing all the time is optional. and god.

steve harrington has been blind for a year. and he wears metal in his face and color in his hair. and he and his friends gather for movies just for the enjoyment of it. and he swims the lakes of hawkins with his boyfriend. and he plays dungeons and dragons with the kids who haven't let go of him just yet. and his parents aren't who he needs them to be yet, but they're trying. everyones trying. and eveyrone is enough.

and he's enough, at the end of the day.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #stranger things #blind steve harrington #steddie ficlet #steve harrington brainworm #drabble #sort of

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upsidedownwithsteve · 2 years

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dad!Eddie Munson x fem!reader [917 words]

Living in a trailer whilst pregnant wasn’t exactly what you had planned out. Living in a trailer whilst pregnant and having your boyfriends uncle as a roommate wasn’t all that great either.

But then again, having a baby at twenty three hadn’t really been all that high on your to do list. But condoms split, conversations were had in Eddie’s arms under bed sheets and life got a little more exciting.

You weren’t far off from being able to afford a place of your own, a little apartment that you and Eddie could call home. A space for a crib, a little room for Eddie’s guitars to hang, your desk and books underneath. And until then, Wayne tried his best to help in every and all ways, bringing home pregnancy books that Janet, the garage’s secretary gave him to loan to you, helping Eddie save up some more cash by giving him extra shifts.

You didn’t want to sound ungrateful, but you liked it best when Wayne took off for a day or two, spending his weekends out of town on fishing trips with his old college buddies, four of them leaving in the truck with their lines, two tents and a cooler full of beer.

Those were the days you knew you could come home from work and really relax, the less clothing the better, ‘cause as the weeks went on your stomach grew, going from pudgy to hard, faint lines stretching over your skin as if to say, ‘look! Look at what I’m making!”

And as incredible as that was, your jeans didn’t really fit anymore.

You were only around two months, almost two and a half, but the whole job of growing a little human inside of you whilst you also worked your actual job was starting to take its toll. Your feet ached, your muscles hurt and you spent the best part of the morning eyeing the bathroom door, wondering if your breakfast was going to be rejected by what you assumed was going to be your very fussy child.

So by six o’clock, you were walking through the door and you wanted to cry at how the whole trailer smelled like lavender and honey, the sound of the bath tap bubbling into the tub.

Eddie appeared at the sound of the door opening and closing, head poking out of the bathroom and grinning at your watery eyes.

“Baby,” he greeted, knowing how to read you. “Baby.”

“You’re running me a bath?” You sniffed, eyes wide and lips pouting. You were very happy about that, Eddie knew, despite the way your voice wavered. “And you tidied the kitchen?”

You almost hiccuped. The boy was trying his best not to laugh, knowing that it would only set you off even more, pregnancy making you emotionally susceptible to kind gestures and light teasing.

Eddie called you his little minefield.

“There’s even a little somethin’ for you in the fridge,” the boy hummed, greeting you properly by cupping your warm cheeks in his hands, squishing them fondly before dropping a kiss to your lips. “Hi, sweetheart.”

“M&M’s?” You asked softly.

“The biggest bag I could find,” Eddie answered. But he was coaxing you past the fridge and towards the bathroom, where sweet smelling steam was melting out of the door. “But first, your bath, princess.”

Bubbles and foam almost overflowed the tub, sweet smelling and making the air warm. Eddie whistled as you stripped, grinning when you flushed and tried to frown, holding your outstretched hand to help you in.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Eddie,” you said mournfully as you sank into the hot water, sighing at the way it nipped a little, wrestling out the knots in your back. “I look like someone stuck a bike pump in me.”

You were exaggerating, you knew that. You were nowhere near as big as you knew you were going to get, but your ankles were swollen and your tummy felt tighter than it did last week, your belly button sticking out for the first time ever.

The boy tutted, moving to sit on the tiles by the tub, an arm dropping into the suds to find a leg. His fingers curled around your calf, soft and affectionate as he traced lines along the tired muscles there.

“Don’t make me argue with a pregnant lady,” he commented mildly, “you’re fuckin’ beautiful. My pretty, pretty girl.”

You sunk a little further into the bubbles, eyes turning softer at his words. Eddie was gazing down at you, brown eyes doting.

“You spoil me,” you told him and he could hear the thanks there, the sweetness, the sincerity.

The tap dripped, some bubbles fizzed and Eddie hummed, a low soft laugh.

“You’re carrying my hellspawn, baby,” he told you, his palm soothing it’s way up your leg. He found the dough of your inner thigh and squeezed, hand moving upupup until it cupped the swell of your belly. “Runnin’ you a bath is the least I could do.”

You snorted, foamy bubbles blowing into the air at your huff. “S’not a hellspawn.”

Eddie’s brows rose into his curls, a smile stretching prettily over his face. He looked at you disbelievingly. “No?” He mused. “I’ll be sure to remember that when little Beelzebub is kicking your bladder at four am.”

You pouted, hand reaching out to poke at the boy’s chin, smiling when he pretended to bite at your finger.

“Fine,” you relented. “They’re not a hellspawn, right now. They do want M&M’s though.”

#dad!eddie munson #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic

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marchoftimes · 24 days

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Venus square Moon

Venus is our relationships with others; our style of loving and ways of creating interpersonal relationships, and our moon can basically show how we function in and navigate these relationships on a psychological level and what our core needs are. With these planets squaring each other, this can show that at some point in their lives the person with this aspect has gone through emotionally painful connections. Because of this, it can make people have a hard time moving on from the hiccups in their romantic lives. They tend to carry baggage from one relationship to the other to the point where they feel the need to give up altogether when it comes to love. I’ve seen this aspect in a lot of people who had turbulent love lives especially in the first half of their lives. They can blindly jump into relationships because they feel so good in the moment and tend to forget to ask themselves if what the other person embodies, or what qualities they have is what they want for the long term. The moon is a fluctuating planet, so what it is that these people are looking for, especially in romantic relationships often changes. One with a venus-moon square must determine is whether or not the person they're involved with can provide their fundamental needs in the relationship.

Another thing I've seen with this aspect is self sabotage in relationships. Knowing something isn’t working out yet staying complacent because the process of leaving is much too hard, staying in an unfulfilling relationship because they don’t want to hurt the other person’s feelings, desiring love so badly yet running for the hills when someone enters their life, not emotionally opening up because of past relationship wounds, etc. The person with this aspect almost feels apprehensive/hesitant when it comes to forming intimate relationships because of everything else that comes with it because of the baggage they carry from relationship to relationship. In relationships you may find yourself overly compromising with your partners as well. Make sure you're not being overly considerate or overextending yourself just to make the other people in your life happy. By doing that, you’re only abandoning your own needs. These folks have giant hearts and want to be loved so badly, but because of that, they’d be willing to sacrifice their own autonomy or needs for another person’s, or completely refrain from developing intimate connections despite their desires due to the cyclical disappointments they seem to face in their relationships.

#venus square moon #moon square venus #moon #venus #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astro community #m

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honeyedmiller · 5 months

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Law of Attraction — Chapter Five: Saudade

series masterlist | previous chapter | epilogue

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: professor!joel, professor x student relations, plus size!reader, unresolved feelings at first, angst, lots of emotions, joel is an idiot (in love), flashbacks of sex, shower head masturbation, light alcohol consumption, brief pov swapping, teensy bit of fluff, there won’t be a super happy ending quite yet. no use of y/n.

word count: 4.2k

chapter synopsis: moving on has proven to be a lot harder than you’d both anticipated. when more feelings bubble to the surface, it may be too late to act upon them.

divider by @saradika-graphics

sau·da·de – /souˈdädə/ (noun): an emotional state of melancholic or profoundly nostalgic longing for a beloved yet absent something or someone.

Adrienne had come home that night to find you agonizingly sobbing on your bedroom floor. The fight that ended things with Joel felt like it’d ripped your heart out as a whole, sewing your ribcage airtight so you could barely fucking breathe.

She sat on the floor and consoled you, shushing you as you cried into her neck. You felt like a fucking wreck, stuck in the abyss of darkness that had consumed you wholly after he walked out of the front door.

After your cries dwindled down into sporadic hiccups, you finally came clean to her about everything: how you’d been feeling the past month and a half, what Tess had told you, and how your breakdown was a result of holding back your true feelings for far too long.

Adrienne couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She wasn’t mad at you in any sense of the matter, and she didn’t parade around with a sickeningly mockful ‘I told you so.’ She was infuriated with Joel.

Because, for fuck’s sake, how could he have suggested this whole ordeal with you knowing he didn’t have his shit resolved yet? If he still had uncharted feelings about the situation with his goddamn ex, he should’ve never touched you in the first place.

A woman, so eager and bright and full of free spirit, had been dwindled down to be filled with hopeless despair—light dulled and spirit trapped in the confines of what could’ve been.

It’d been a month since that very day, and you were slowly starting to feel like yourself again.

Tess kept her end of her promise, putting in a good word with the Los Angeles police department as they were in need of a forensic technician. The head of the forensics team had interviewed you over the phone for half an hour before deciding she wanted to meet you in person and talk about what the job would entail in greater detail. She said, in her own words, she needed some ‘fresh minds on her team.’

You were excited to go back home to visit your folks in the midst of this trip. You needed to create new memories, good memories this trip, because last time you were on the west coast you were getting relentlessly fucked by your former professor, accepting his offer to be friends with benefits.

You swore to yourself you’d never put yourself in such a situation ever again.

It humiliated you, made you feel foolish, hurt you—the list goes on—but it also taught you. It taught you patience, it taught you resilience, and it taught you the hardships of two emotionally damaged people trying to mold into one.

You’ll admit, you did miss Joel. Not in the same way you did when it hurt at first, but more so in a way that made you miss the familiarity that floated in the air every time you two were around each other. When you weren’t wracking your brain about your feelings for him, being around him was just… easy.

He was obviously super intelligible, always had something insightful to say, he was funny, and he actually listened to you in the aspect of daily life. He made you feel seen, which is something you don’t get often with people.

When your feelings for him weren’t harboring into the depths of your heart, a swirl of anticipation always clutched at you to be around him. You really did miss him.

You also missed the sex.

The price that it came with was hefty, but god—you missed the scrape of his facial hair against your trembling thighs, the thickness of his fingers scissoring in and out of you while praising how ‘fuckin’ perfect your pussy is’, his hot tongue swirling against your aching core with a shit-eating grin plastered to his lips as you came undone, his sweet-talking mouth that praised every single inch of your body, and his cock that seemed to connect you two and made it so goddamn difficult to tell where he ended and you began.

A knock on your bedroom door jostles you from your thoughts, and you turn to see Adrienne standing there with a smile on her face.

“You ready for tomorrow?” She asks, stepping into your room. She sits down next to your open luggage, reaching down to toy with the frayed knee on one of your packed jeans.

“I am. I’m excited. I always love going back home.”

And it was true. Texas had grown on you, but California would forever be your home. You missed the sunny weather and the near-constant blue skies.

“So,” She starts, laying both of her hands in her lap. “If you do get the offer, which I’m sure you will, I could find a job out there too. We could move together, you know, so you wouldn’t have to move back in with your parents.” She shrugs, as if what she proposed was the most nonchalant thing ever.

“Adri, are you serious?”

She smiles and nods her head. “Yeah, I mean, I’ve lived in Texas my whole life. You know how bad I’ve wanted to get out for some time now, so I figured this would be the perfect opportunity.”

You shoved your suitcase further up the bed so you could sit next to her, wrapping your arms around her.

“I’d love it if we moved together, Adri. Truth be told I really wasn’t sure how I was going to navigate life without you being in a different state. Probably would’ve gone fucking insane.”

You both laugh as she reciprocates the affection.

“Can’t get rid of me that easily, babe.” And for that, you were so grateful to have someone like her in your corner. Sometimes it felt like it was you and her against the world.

“Did you finish grading yet?” Tess asks Joel, crossing one leg over the other as she leans back in her chair. The restaurant they were in was relatively quiet, considering it was only the afternoon.

“I did. Wasn’t too bad.” Joel shrugged, cutting into his steak.

“Mm. That’s good. So what do you plan on doing now that you’re a free man for two and a half months?”

Joel’s heart sinks. He should be enjoying his vacation wrapped up in you, but because his pride got in the way, he lost you to something that meant a lot to him. He didn’t deserve your forgiveness, but he was hoping he’d be able to gain it someday.

“Nothin’.” He’s curt with his answer, and Tess knows him all too well.

“You’re thinking about her, aren’t you?”

”Why does it matter, Tess?” Joel’s exasperated at this point, really not in the mood to hear I told you so from his best friend. He knows he fucked up. He reminds himself that every single day when he goes to text you, fingers hovering over the keyboard because he doesn’t know the right thing to say. I’m sorry. I’m an asshole. I want you.

But it’s too late.

“Joel,” Tess sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not gonna say what you think I’m gonna say, but I do have one question.”

Joel looks up at her, her green eyes sincere.

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you fight harder for her?”

Joel wasn’t expecting that. That question was like a punch to the gut, knocking the air out of his lungs. Because, honestly, why didn’t he?

He shrugged at her.

He thinks it’d be easier to lie and say it was the age difference and you used to be his student and it’d be this whole weird thing, but Tess would see right through him. He knows exactly why, though.

He was terrified.

Terrified of getting too attached, terrified of getting hurt, terrified of admitting he was falling in love with you.

You just graduated. You’re just starting your life as a free woman. He didn’t want to be the one to hold you back.

He knows you can find someone so much better than him. Someone closer in age, someone that won’t dick you over or spring an awful proposal onto you like he did. Someone who could actually give you what you deserved, which was the whole goddamn world.

But what he didn’t know was that he had ruined every single man for you, ever. Nobody could compare to him.

There’s no way he’d ever get to know that though, because he fucking had you. And then he lost you.

The June sun was hot on your back as you unloaded your luggage from the back of your Uber. You had taken an early flight, so it was only around noon when you got to your parents’ house. You unlocked the front door and slipped off your sandals, wheeling your luggage into the living room, only to be met with silence.

“Mom? Dad?” You called out. More silence. You furrowed your brows and walked further into the house and into the kitchen, stopping when you saw a neon post-it slapped onto the middle of your fridge.

‘Hey sweetie, you’ll probably arrive home around noon, which means dad is still at work and I’ll be running some errands. Picking up some stuff from the grocery store, too. Making chicken parm tonight. Can’t wait to see you!

Love mom.’

You smile at her note before rolling your suitcase to your old room, deciding to shower first and then settle in.

Exhaustion consumes your body as the inviting droplets of water roll down your skin, warm water relaxing your aching muscles. You were nervous about meeting the head of forensics in two days. This could be a life-altering career for you, and you wanted nothing more.

Except for Joel, maybe, the depths of your mind sneer at you. You roll your eyes at yourself, ignoring that part of you that fucking aches for him on a near-constant basis. You failed, though. The ache was so bad that it had manifested itself into a pulsating, needy pang between your legs. You sighed as you snatched the shower head from its holder and lowered it between your flesh, warm water gliding over your throbbing cunt with the right amount of pressure.

God, missing him was already becoming too much.

You didn’t intend to fall asleep after your shower, but your bed was so comfy and you wanted to escape your overactive mind for a bit—so you slipped into a comfortable slumber. Your mom knocked on your door to wake you up, letting you know that dinner was almost done.

Dinner was full of catching up with your parents. It was nice to spend some time with them again. You hadn’t seen them since you graduated, and before that, Christmas break. It was harder to catch flights back to California just for the hell of it when you were in school, and now, you’re looking at the prospect of being a full-fledged Californian once more.

You were helping your mom clean up the kitchen, working off your post-meal coma that was surging over your body.

“Hey honey, are you okay?” Your mom asks as you dry the last of the dishes. You look at her perplexedly, not expecting that question at all.

“What do you mean?” You ask, putting away the dried dish.

“It’s just,” She starts, pursing her lips and sighing. “I don’t know, you seem different? I guess? It’s like you’re you but the real you isn’t really… there. Saw it at graduation too. The sadness in your eyes…” She trails off, looking at you with a bit of unease.

You didn’t think it’d be that noticeable, but things scarcely get past your mother.

You were almost thirty years old. Surely she wouldn’t be pissed at you for sleeping with your former professor, now, would she?

“I’ll tell you about it,” You say, eyes landing on a bottle of Pinot Grigio. “We might need this, though.” You snatch the bottle off the counter and grab two wine glasses, leading her out to the padded lounge chairs on the back patio.

She pours two hefty glasses, because the look on your face tells her everything she needs to know: it’s going to be a hell of a story.

And so you proceeded to tell her everything, aside from where you two had sex. She definitely didn’t need to know about you getting fucked by him in his office, bent over his desk as he—

“Wow. That’s… a lot.” She says, drinking in all of the information you threw her way.

“You’re not upset with me?” You ask, hiding a wobbling bottom lip behind your glass of wine. The lump in your throat made it harder for you to swallow the smooth drink.

“Honey, you’re a grown woman. You know what’s right from wrong, albeit I think you should’ve at least waited until after you graduated, as far as I’m concerned, it was two adults consenting to participate in adult activities.” She shrugs, and you sigh in relief.

“I promise I wasn’t sleeping with him for my grades or anything. I was already one of his top students before it all began.” You huff a laugh, and your mom shakes her head.

“That thought didn’t cross my mind once, sweetheart. It’s not you. It’s not your character,” She sips her wine with a meek hum, brows pinching together. “I don’t like what he did to you, though.” She shakes her head, looking at you.

“I agreed to it, though. Part of it is my fault for not telling him how I felt. I knew what I felt for him and I hadn’t voiced it once to him, so he was unaware.”

And you wondered now if things would’ve been different had you told him how you really felt.

His words, seared into your brain at this point, always repeated themselves: ‘It’s not my fault I didn’t live up to the expectations of myself that you created in your head.’

Maybe you wouldn’t have made those expectations up if you just fucking told him.

“He still shouldn’t have used you as a pawn to distract himself from his unresolved feelings about the thing with his ex.” She says, and you know she’s right. Adrienne said something similar to you not even three weeks ago.

“Yeah.” Was all you could muster up, swirling your wine around your glass.

“Do you think you have it in your heart to ever forgive him?” She asks, and your stomach twists into a knot. You’d never even thought about forgiving him. It was still too fresh of an open wound, one you were desperately trying to heal and close.

“Maybe someday.” It was an honest answer.

And that’s all you could really give her.

The next day, your mom had graciously decided to take you out for a little distraction from life as you knew it.

She took you for a drive down PCH in your dad’s beloved cherry red ‘65 Ford Mustang convertible, which is exactly what you needed. The sun was beaming brightly down on you both, the top down allowing the hot wind to wildly whip at your face. You leaned your crossed arms on top of the passenger door, laying your head down as you closed your eyes to enjoy the moment of serenity.

You missed home so much. You didn’t even want to go back to Texas, but you’d know by the end of the week if you were coming back here permanently or not. You figured you’d need to construct a plan B just in case this job didn’t end up working out, but you’d figure that out soon.

Right now, you just wanted to enjoy the summer sun and the time with your mom and the freeness you felt now that your mom knew everything.

The day went by quickly much to your disadvantage. You were nervous for what tomorrow would bring, hoping to god that you were impressive enough for them to at least consider you to be a part of the forensics team.

And you went into the huge facility the next day with a smile plastered on your face, showing you were genuinely happy to be there and how much you’d love the job. You hoped you weren’t being overeager.

The head of the forensics team, Margot, seemed to take a liking to you. She asked how you knew Tess, and you told her you met at the criminal justice expo a couple of months back.

It wasn’t a lie, but you didn’t want Joel to be a part of the conversation whatsoever, so you naturally skipped over the part that you met her through him.

Margot gave you a run-down of how things worked in that particular department, showing you the ins and outs of the place. She showed you all of the equipment and how it worked; what different positions in the job entailed; and what she was expecting of you, were you to be hired.

The prospect of you working on the forensics team for the LAPD had your stomach doing somersaults, and you had to constantly remind yourself that it wasn’t reality for you yet. You couldn’t get too ahead of yourself.

You thanked Margot for her time as she promised she’d keep in touch and let you know about the position by the end of the week at latest.

You got home that evening and Adrienne FaceTimed you right away. You felt like it went well, though you couldn’t be one hundred percent sure. Margot was a sweet woman, but her mannerisms gave very little away. All you could do at this point was just hope for the best.

That’s all you seemed you could really do right now in life, anyway.

Just hope for the best.

You got the job.

The call came in around ten in the morning on your way to the airport to fly back to Austin. You couldn’t believe it.

It’s like everything in your life was slowly clicking back into place, one by one.

You’d worked so hard in school, but you genuinely couldn’t have done this without Tess. You had to call and let her know.

You scrolled through your contacts and clicked her name, and within three rings she answered.

“Hello?”

”Hey, Tess. I have some great news.” Your voice is giddy and you couldn’t contain your excitement.

“I think I might know what it is.” She teased, prompting you to tell her.

“I got the job!”

“I knew you would, sweetheart, congratulations. We should get a drink to celebrate. Make it a whole thing.” Her voice rings with sincerity, and you can’t seem to wipe the smile from your face.

“Love to. I don’t start until late August, so I have a month and a half to pack and move.”

“That’s great! If you need help, Misty and I wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

“Thanks Tess. And thank you so much for putting in a word for me. I wouldn’t have gotten this job without you.”

“You did all of the hard work. I was just a referencer.” She laughs, and you can’t help but beam.

“Hey I gotta go, my flight is being called to board. But I’ll see you real soon.” You say, and hear her chuckle on the other end of the line.

“See you soon, sweetheart.”

A month and a half passed by in the blink of an eye. You and Adrienne were leaving tomorrow to head for California with all your stuff in tow.

It felt so surreal, leaving Texas behind to start something new for yourself—something you worked so hard for. Adrienne couldn’t have been more supportive of you starting anew, which is why she insisted you both invite your friends to a local bar as a last hoorah before you took off in the morning.

You were all smiles tonight, taking a couple of shots with friends before settling on a Cosmo to babysit for awhile.

You even invited Tess and Misty, wanting to say ‘see you later’ instead of ‘goodbye’, because you ultimately knew you’d be seeing them again.

And, deep down, a part of you wishes you could physically say goodbye to Joel. Thank him for everything he’s taught you—inside and outside of the classroom—and put your past with him completely behind you.

You didn’t want to go to California with any loose ends, because again, the whole purpose was to start fresh.

You didn’t dwell on it too much. You were there to celebrate with your friends and have a good time… which you were, until the man that had been lingering in the back of your mind for two and a half months unexpectedly made an appearance.

You were talking with Adrienne, Tess and Misty before all three of them went silent, eyes averting behind you. You looked at them with confusion before turning around, heart dropping to your stomach.

Joel.

“What’s he doing here?” Panic seized your body, not expecting to see him at all. The part of you that wanted to say goodbye was relieved to see him, and the other part of you—the part that craved him for so long, wishing everything was different—was mortified.

“I actually invited him.” Adrienne said, sympathy in her eyes as you furrowed your brows.

“What—?”

“Just- just hear him out, okay?” She asks, and you place your watered-down Cosmo on the sticky bar top, giving her an unsure look before turning around to face him. He didn’t look much different, but his eyes were tired.

A pang of hurt seized your chest, and you swallowed harshly before making your way to him.

“Joel.” You sound breathless. Your eyes must’ve been wide and strewn with confusion.

He offers a small, lopsided smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Hey. Can we talk?” He asks, voice sounding a bit unsure, a trait that’s very unlike Joel.

You nod, and he jerks his head toward the bar door to walk outside. Your shoes scuff over the pavement, humid summer night air sticking tackily to your body. The sounds of Life in the Fast Lane by the Eagles fades into the background with all of the chatty patrons of the bar, leaving the distant call of the cicadas to become the forefront of noise in the night.

“So,” You begin, not exactly sure what he wants to talk about.

“Couple of things. First and foremost, I wanna apologize to you, darlin.’ For every single thing that’s happened. You were a student of mine and I shouldn’t have—” He swallows, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have done anything with you then. ‘N I most certainly shouldn’t’ve offered that stupid fuckin’ friends with benefits bullshit to you.” His eyes are trained on his worn out boots, hands knotting behind his back.

“Joel—”

“Darlin’, you deserved so much better. I want you to know that I was never ashamed to be with you. You’re gorgeous, your body is beautiful, you’re so brilliant. Everythin’ about you is a dream. I was selfish and I was terrified of gettin’ hurt again. I spent so long building up walls to protect myself ‘n my peace, and then you came into my life chippin’ away at it so easily. I didn’t know what to do, so I panicked. Kept pullin’ you in and pushin’ you away so I wouldn’t be the one that ended up hurt. But I hurt you in the end and I can’t tell you how fuckin’ sorry I am.”

His dark gaze is locked on you then, and you feel the backs of your eyes burning, tears threatening to spill to the forefront. You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? It’s not every day you get a heartfelt apology from a man who really did a fucking number on you.

“What’s the second thing?” Your voice is meek, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s hesitant at first, but he sighs as he takes a small step toward you.

“I really fuckin’ miss you.” His eyes were full of sadness, regret, anguish. All telltale to you that he was being completely sincere.

You didn’t want to give in. You didn’t want it to be that easy, answering his beck and call. But it was Joel— the man who made you feel things nobody else has, the man who frustrated you and liberated you simultaneously, the man who fucking ruined every single man for you ever again.

You were a strong woman. You knew that. He knew that. But Joel had chipped away at your walls, too.

Eye for an eye.

“I miss you too,” You whisper, tears on your waterline now. “But I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“Sweetheart,” Joel coos, reaching out for you. It took you a second, but you willingly let yourself succumb to the warm, familiar embrace of the man that you so desperately, secretly longed for all this time. “I promise you I won’t hurt you again. Cross my heart ‘n hope to die.” Joel’s voice holds so much promise.

Everything felt okay again. It felt right as you buried your face into his neck, clutching fistfuls of the soft material of his shirt.

And then it hit you—

“Joel,” You gasp, sad tears streaming down your face endlessly, body wracked with broken sobs. “I’m moving to LA. I leave for California tomorrow.”

Joel’s face falters, tears in his eyes as he pulls you into him tighter, kissing your temple as you both stand in the parking lot, sobs joining the song of cicadas.

What you’d lost once was in your grip again, only for it to slip through your fingers like sand—twelve hundred miles soon to be separating what could’ve been.

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @punkshort ; @nostalxgic ; @tinygarbage ; @harriedandharassed ; @pamasaur ; @bastardmandennis ; @cool-iguana ; @untamedheart81

#fic: law of attraction #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #professor!joel miller #professor!joel #professor miller #joel miller fic #joel miller series #joel miller au #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller imagines #joel miller x f!reader #professor joel x plus size!reader #honeyedmiller

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tategaminu · 1 month

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SOOO the title for 05X6 dropped and I'm going feral

Be prepared to hear my long ass theory about this episode and why it will be the rayllum fully gets back together episode (I'm annoying)

Of course we already know season 6 will mirror S3 or at least that's what it looks like. "Moonless Night" is episode 5‚ the same one when Callum and Rayla first got together‚ just as 4 had the title of the place they reach. (The Midnight Desert‚ The Starcrapper)

I have to add‚ just as season 3 had Nyx‚ there's this sky girl called Astrid who may act as the Nyx parallel‚ who knows.

I don't use Discord but my info provider (hello there) told me Devon said episode five would be emotionally heavy and a favourite. A person said ep2 of season 5 were their favourite because the cute rayllum moments and Devon said "until 5 of 6" 🧐

Aparently, it was confirmed by writers this episode would DESTROY people KILL EVEN, well maybe not that but you get me. We know how emotional these two blorbos are for each other right? and we for them. In Discord, a person said ep2 of season 5 were their favourite because the cute rayllum moments and Devon said "until 5 of 6" 🧐

Now let's go to the juicy part. The title. This title is absolutely loaded. like wth. We all know whose favourite girl is related to the moon right? of course we are worried. But I think she's gonna be ok, in the end at least, let me explain.

Of course I'm asuming this scene from the teaser may be from episode 5. We see Callum falling in a moonless night but I'm guessing the title isn't that literal. I think Callum is falling emotionally and literally just as he has before for Rayla. He fell in love with her‚ he fell off a cliff for her and then fell emotionally when she left. The sky he is in is dark‚ no moon‚ representing his own mental state without Rayla. Rayla left him at night just as Callum is falling in the night (omg)

Callum had a moonless night every day for two years because his guiding moon wasn't in his life. I think they may talk about it or it will affect Callum in this episode some way.

Note that the teaser opens with this scene, next we have Aaravos saying "we are all of us, stardust, held together by love for an instant"

(wow subtle foreshadowing you guys)

and the teaser ends with Callum losing his love wings. The wings he got for her. Basically opening with a rayllum scene and closing with a "rayllum" scene ya know

In Chasing Shadows Rayla specifically mentions the stars in his eyes‚ when he does the big speech:

Now‚ what do I think will happen?

EP3: They visit the Silvergroove? just like in ep 3x3. Maybe visit Ethari? "heeey your husband is alive ok bye". My own guess is that they will get the boat from the leaked scene there since there are moon animals in that thing and reach the frozen ship with that.

Ep4: they reach destination and meet the sky elves, Astrid included, with no hiccups. ba dum tss

Ep5: Basically 05x3 but different and sexier

Whatever Callum is about to do I highly doubt Rayla will agree with it because you know how they are (me getting hurt is ok but not you). He convinces her like he did in TTM‚

But this time Rayla is the one to say it

I think that even if Callum promises he will be ok‚ he will have a "I want you to know" moment again and that may lead to talking about her leaving. This may derive into a kinda argument. Callum and Rayla can't continue their talk because they get interrumped (once again) but the memories of a broken heart and feelings affects him badly. He's just emotionally distraught and loses his love wings because whatever. I doubt Rayla isn't seeing any of this, you know how she is. She didn't spend 7 hours watching him sleep to actually not watch this like c'mon

This time Rayla may be the one saving Callum from falling (literally and metaphorically). Now yeah Rayla can't fly but maybeeee

A: she calls out for his name, "waking" him up

B: she just jumps (im going for this one) like Callum did for her. She jumps, not knowing if it's going to work, wakes him up after catching him‚ Callum is able to get his wings back and fly them both into safety, Callum gets his love wings again for her but this time she's being the savior (in the most part). Maybe even completing whatever mission they ask as well. TOGETHER.

After this we may get a Rayla is a hero speech or this time Callum is a hero speech, I don't know‚ I think it would be more fitting if it's from Callum and the hero Callum speech is from Rayla to her parents. Whateve, they finally have their three sesaon dragged conversation and they both kiss like in S3 but maybe reversed this time (Rayla kissing first and apologizing and Callum kissing her next) and they fully come back together :'). I dont think we will get an I love you until ep 9 but we won't really need it here right? we already know!

The episode ends with them kissing under the moon. Moonless Night ending with with a moon night (metaforically and literally)

Now‚ this is just my own guess and it sounds very very self-indulgent (heh) but a girl can dream

#i may be wrong but my heart is in the right place and thats what matters #listen im still fangirling #THE TITLE JOAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH #now even if they get back together here i dont think this will the fully “i forgive her” i think that will be in ep 9 with the love confess #after something bad happens ya knowpossesion #listen im not a meta blog sorry if this doesnt make sense but im going rabid and needed to do this #rayllum #tdp #the dragon prince #tdp theory #tdpredictions #rayla #callum #tdp s6 spoilers #tdp s6

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amomentsescape · 8 months

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Fake Friends Will Get Their Ends

Freddy Krueger x Reader

Summary: After learning their friends have been lying to them this whole time, Freddy steps in to comfort Reader.

Warnings: Cussing, hurt-comfort, Reader talks badly about themselves

Word Count: 548

A/N: The tone of this one is a little more serious than how I wrote for Freddy before. I just wanted to switch things up a bit this time around!

You are the strongest person Freddy knows. It's why he was drawn to you in the first place.

So when you came home in tears after a night out with your friends, he was immediately concerned.

It takes a lot for Freddy to become serious, so seeing the frown on his face made you want to cry even harder.

"What's wrong?" he urged, letting you drop into his arms.

"Th-those liars," you hiccuped. It made you feel pathetic that you couldn't even speak to him normally through all the crying.

"Who?" His voice was gentle, but there was clearly a darkness brewing beneath it all.

You took a few moments to try and gather yourself, wanting to actually form coherent sentences.

You nuzzled into his body further, not wanting him to see you like this.

"My friends," you finally mustered. "Well, I thought they were my friends."

Freddy stayed silent in hopes you would elaborate further.

"Th-they-" you paused and took a deep breath in. "They've been talking shit a-about me this whole time. They never cared about me. They just enjoyed having someone to hate on."

The tears began to flow again, causing you to tilt your head down in hopes they would stop.

However, Freddy forced you to look up at him as he scanned your soaked face. His eyes narrowed a bit.

"You're the only one I hate seeing like this," he rasped quietly.

He raised his knifed glove up and softly moved the hair away from your forehead with the back of the blades. Something about the cold metal against your flushed skin helped calm you down a bit.

"I suppose I should pay them a visit tonight, hmm?"

You shook your head much to Freddy's dismay.

"Please, d-don't. Some pathetic part of me still cares-"

"Don't use that word. I wouldn't be here if that was true."

You nodded and wiped some of the tears from your face. "But please don't kill them Freddy. Promise me you won't."

He let out a deep sigh and clenched his teeth together. You could tell he wanted to argue with you on this one.

"Freddy, promise me."

He finally met your gaze and huffed before silently agreeing.

"Thank you," you whispered.

You hugged him tightly, thankful for his protectiveness over you.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were back in your own bed, pillow still a bit damp from crying yourself to sleep.

You didn't even recall saying goodbye to Freddy last night, but you supposed you were just too emotionally drained to remember.

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and unlocked the screen.

However, you were met with dozens upon dozens of messages from each of your so-called "friends."

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

Each message was made up of erratic apologies and begs for forgiveness.

You sat up in bed and immediately thought of Freddy. You sighed in annoyance.

Well, he did what you asked. He didn't kill them, but whatever happened last night may have honestly been worse.

You could have sworn you heard Freddy's laugh outside in the early morning air.

What a caring asshole.

#slashers #slasher imagines #slashers x reader #slasher fandom #slashers preference #freddy krueger x reader #freddy krueger #a nightmare on elm street

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thebearer · 10 months

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Though Ronan’s named after lip I feel like he’d be the complete opposite in some areas. Like he isn’t as “tough” as his brothers and he’s more emotionally in tune. He’s the first to apologize when he’s hurt someone’s feelings, he’s the one to give hugs to people on bad days. I feel like he’d be the one to kickstart yours and lip’s discovery into a sort of “gentle” parenting vibe where you aren’t laid back but at the same time you let your kids express their emotional needs and boundaries

he's definitely softer than your other boys. he's just more emotionally intuitive, which you're thankful for because he is so sweet. he was a snuggler big time as a baby and toddler, always wanting to be held and coddled. not that your other boys didn't, but not the that extent (jude...especially not. the second he could toddle he wanted to be free and run).

he's just very sensitive, which lip struggles with. everything about lip is relatively rough. his demeanor, the way he grew up, just everything. he's not very good at being soft and sweet and caring. he can be, of course, he just feels like it's more of a chore.

he struggled with it, especially because ronan was a cryer. he crid at movies, when he couldn't get his shoes on, when his brothers took his toys, when he just felt like it. lip would get so frustrated. "why are you cryin'? seriously? you gotta be tougher than that." he tried that approximately one time before you nearly ripped his head off.

he felt so guilty afterwards, trying his hardest to be calmer. you had made a good point. "he's a baby, lip, jesus." you snapped, rolling your eyes at him. "he cries because he doesn't know how to express his fuckin' emotions. clearly you don't either. you better work on that before you every try to yell at my baby again. you hear me?"

lip was furious but he knew you were right. it was hard undoing methods that were ground into his head. he thought back to how he grew up, when frank would be high or drunk or both and ian would cry. he'd tell him to "be a man" or "quit bein' a fuckin' sissy cryin' all the time". monica had never came to ian's rescue like that. she was usually too fucked up to even try. fiona would try to console ian when they got in private, tell him just not to cry in front of frank, wait until they were alone. it always made lip so angry that he had to do that, made him want to punch frank in his face, even as a child. and now, he's doing the same thing.

lip was damned and determined to break that cycle, with all his boys. and he'd done very good, but he still had slip ups like this. slip ups where he got frustrated and just snapped.

he worked hard at it, at this new kind of parenting. ronan cried one day, frustrated he couldn't find his toy, so just sitting on the ground and sobbing helplessly. you watched lip carefully while he approached him.

"hey, ro, c'mon, what's the matter?" lip tried softly, crouching down to his level.

"i-i-i-i can't fi-i-i-ind my-y toy-y-y." ronan wailed, big tears streaming down his face.

"ok, well, why don't i help you, ok? i'll help you try to find it. would that make you feel better?" lip tried, a little unsure, a little awkward, but it seemed to work. ronan's cries quieted, nodding while he clung to lip's chest, soft hiccuping cries while they looked for the spiderman figurine until they found it.

lip returned triumphantly, grinning at you proudly. "good job, gallagher." you muttered, pressing a kiss to his lips.

"yeah? 's nothin'. not too bad." lip shrugged, trying to contain his own pride.

you hugged him around his waist, beaming at him gently. he was a good dad, really.

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000marie198 · 1 year

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There is another artistically incredible thing I noticed abt the first Httyd movie.

The movie, it's from Hiccup's perspective. And it conveys his perspective throughout, in details both subtle and clear.

Like the Book of Dragons clip; Chilling and terrific with sound effects and feels induced exactly as Hiccup was imagining it. That scene alone gives me the shivers and the way it ends on Night Fury (I absolutely love the fear inducing Night Fury theme from the first movie). I've been noticing that every single piece of score fit the emotions and situation Hiccup was in, affirming his perspective, his experiences, conveyed through the movie as if they were the viewers' own. And that scene when Hiccup is listening to his father speak just before entering the arena to face Hookfang, the way the lighting and expressions and sound of Stoick's voice was set apart from everything and felt resonated, Hiccup's dread and anticipation and anxiety and worry and fear were palpable. He was planning to do the exact opposite of what his father, the one he's been trying to make proud his entire life, was hoping and oof that few seconds HURT!

And with how the background score and scenes were animated so splendidly, there's one very subtle but greatly well integrated detail I just have to mention

If we take a note of all the dragons throughout the movie, there's a gradual pattern. The movie starts and every dragon looks wild and dangerous and animalistic. Beastly and emotionless, except for displaying an urge to cause harm or look vicious.

Aside from Hookfang. Every other dragon didn't look nearly as expressive and clear in intention as Hookfang did. And if you notice, he was the only dragon in the beginning of the movie whom Hiccup made a direct encounter with and sassed at. We saw Hookfang being angry and vicious and even worried and scared when he ran out of firepower and got captured, he seemed to display emotions more clearly than any other dragon. But he was also the only dragon so far Hiccup had a direct communicative encounter with. The movie is from Hiccup's perspective and we saw Hookfang from Hiccup's perspective.

But! It gets better. If you notice or think about it, try to remember the details in the movie with respect to the dragons, all the dragons earlier on looked wild and deadly and nothing else. Just wild and dangerous and vicious, the opinion every viking has on them, the opinion Hiccup during those earlier moments had on them.

But then he met Toothless. And it all began to change. Notice how the dragons seem to become more and more expressive and emotionally intelligent or humanly as Hiccup and Toothless' friendship proceeds to grow. How the snappy Terrible Terrors would gradually start to look like small little dragons who are mischievous and naughty and silly little guys, how the quick and swift Deadly Nadder started to look like a playful and curious friend, how the once sneaky and scary Zippleback who seemed to set it's target on everyone and everything became expressive and displayed worry and fear, how the powerful and dangerous Gronkle gradually started to look more kind and friendly and sleepy etc.

This happened with literally every single dragon during the movie. The more Hiccup began to understand them and got closer to Toothless and realized they are living beings who have individual personalities and feelings and are misunderstood, the more these mighty creatures felt more alive and expressive to the viewers. And this was done without the slightest change in the dragons' models or designs. They conveyed Hiccup's perspective splendidly throughout the movie.

Point in case;

Httyd 1 is a cinematic masterpiece

#httyd 1 #how to train your dragon #httyd hiccup #httyd toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock lll #hiccup haddock #toothless #httyd hookfang #hookfang #httyd stormfly #barf and belch #stormfly #httyd meatlug #meatlug #httyd analysis #analysis

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suspiciouslackofclowns · 3 months

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It’s hard to be strong, sometimes.

“Nothing’s gonna fix me.”

Billy can do the heavy lifting. Can pull the freight with nothing but the sweat on his back to show for it.

“I’m jus’ gonna hurt forever.”

But this?

He isn’t strong enough for this.

“You aren’t,” he coos. “I won’t let you.”

A strained little sob hiccups out of Steve, and he simply shakes his head. The veins running up the length of his neck thump fast with his pulse, rising to the surface of his flushed skin. Tense and angry, like his eyebrows, pinched together harshly no matter how much Billy shushes and croons at him.

He’s got Steve’s face buried in his chest, shirt completely damp around the collar, and Steve’s fists tangles weakly at the sides.

Right now is probably the calmest he’s been all afternoon since this started.

Billy buries his nose in Steve’s hair and closes his eyes, arms wrapped softly around him. Grounding him in place. Smoothing carefully over his back, wary of pressing lest he cause another river of tears.

“Why does something that’s supposed to help hurt so bad?” Steve whines.

As much as Billy wants to squeeze him as tight as he can, he doesn’t. Instead settles one of his hands against Steve’s head, holding his cheek to his chest and gently stroking his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know,” Billy admits. “Sometimes stuff doesn’t work, and you find out the shitty way.”

Steve huffs and makes a frustrated, pained sound into Billy’s shirt that’s followed by a warm wetness soaking into the fabric. Billy shushes into his hair again.

He wishes he could take the ache away. Wishes he could, even for just a moment, see what it feels like.

What could hurt so fucking bad that it has Steve crumbling into a mess of throaty sobs? Steve, who has been knocked around like a ragdoll and simply dusted himself off after?

“‘M gonna hurt forever,” he whines again.

Digs his forehead into Billy’s chest, shifting and rocking himself softly on top of him like he’s trying to physically shake the pain off, and Billy urges him to lie still with a gentle hand on his back.

“You won’t, it’ll pass.”

He tries to say it with certainty, but there’s a slight rasp in his voice to match the mist gathering in his eyes. Even when he gets Steve to fall still again.

“It hurts.”

“What hurts?”

A shaky sob leaves Steve’s lips as he curls his fingers tighter in Billy’s shirt at his sides.

“Everything,” he urges.

Presses himself down hard, muscles tense, like he’s trying to smother himself. Billy keeps his hand smoothing delicately up and down his back.

“I know, baby. Just breathe, okay? Can you do that for me?”

Steve’s muscles shake from the effort, but he eventually listens. Inhales a shallow breath and sighs it out, drawing another one in as slow as he can manage with his elevated heart rate.

It takes a few moments, but his grip eventually eases again. He sniffles and nudges his face against Billy’s ruined shirt, huffing softly.

“It hurts,” he rasps, voice just above a whisper.

“I know, Stevie.” Billy noses a kiss into the brunet’s hair. “I know.”

They lay there like that for a while. Steve eventually tires himself out, nodding off on top of Billy even though he’s still crying. Too emotionally and physically exhausted to stay awake through the pain.

Billy just holds him. Lays his head back on the pillow once Steve’s breathing finally evens out and exhales a long sigh.

He might not be strong enough to fix Steve, because most medications aren’t even strong enough for that.

He supposes that being strong enough to love Steve will suffice, though.

Then at least he doesn’t have to suffer it alone.

#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #disabled steve harrington #autistic steve harrington #chronic pain #meltdown #hurt/comfort #anyways always read the side effects on your meds guys #who knew pain killers could *cause* pain? I sure didn’t #vent fic #ficlet #unedited #my writing

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pedrostylez · 4 months

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How The Crow Flies - pt. 8

Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover

Word count: 3.4k

Chapter Summary: You return to the apartment Javier set you up in, and find him waiting for you

Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Hurt feelings, mentions of violence, hitting, slapping, mean words (again we got a Capricorn reader who maybe feels bad for putting Javi in this situation) mentions of fucking others, some jealousy, Javi big time emotionally damaged, shower fingering sort of smut as a way to make it up to reader, DUBCON mentions and references

A/N: Thank you guys for being patient. Honestly, February has been one of the worst months ever for me on a personal level, and so writing has both been difficult and all I would rather do. I'm thinking about how best to write the next 2 chapters, and part of me thinks I can really just have it be 1 more...we will see! If I have missed any tags for trigger warnings, please let me know and I will fix it. Thank you for reading!!!

Taglist: @thevoiceinyourheadx @suzdin @survivingandenduring @bariskaplans @inept-the-magnificent @casa-boiardi @paleidiot @darkheartgatita @missladym1981 @mellymbee

It’s all mostly a blur.

Driving up to the apartment and noticing Javier’s vehicle parked in the driveway. The tuft of his hair poking over the top of his seat, lolled to one side as if he was asleep.

The sun on your face as you slide sunglasses over your eyes, warming your skin as you unlock the front door.

The way Javier’s car door shuts behind him, calling your name and following you into the apartment. It’s like you barely hear him call your name as he trails you up to the doorway.

Staring at Javier and seeing only Frankie, wondering what he is doing in the moment is the only thing you can think about. The ghost feeling of Frankie’s lips on yours as he whispered a goodbye to you just a few hours ago. His smile as he pulled you back to him, telling you to not come back to the jungle unless it was to “ruin these assholes’ day.” The way his thumb and finger pinched gently at your chin when you rolled your eyes; the way he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth until he finally leaned in to kiss you again.

You couldn’t get those things out of your head. Swirling, swirling, swirling around as you walked around your apartment and began sliding things into cardboard boxes.

The way Javier asks where you have been doesn’t really register.

No, nothing is really memorable until his fingers grasp around your wrist and spin you around to face him. His eyes, not trained on your face but on your shirt, welling with tears. “What happened to you?”

It was all just noise until he says that. You blink, shaking your head and pulling your wrist out of his grip. He follows you, hesitant but determined as he speaks again. “Please, hermosa I-I’ve been so worried–”

“You blew my cover.” It spills out of your mouth, holding your hand up toward his chest to silently tell him to stop moving.

He pauses, visibly paling and mouth agape like a fish. It was hard to surprise him–you had come to know that over the months of working with him. Right now, you have somehow done so, his eyes searching yours desperately for an answer.

He blindly is reaching for the wall behind him, his knuckles flushing white as he squeezes at the door frame his hand landed on. “What?” He hiccups, looking you over and eyes continuously going to your shirt-over and over and over.

You set the cardboard box down in your hands-half full of the trinkets he had told you to decorate with. You have this urge to suddenly go back to your own apartment. “You called me so many times that I was cornered, and I had to say who I was to not have my neck sliced open.”

It feels like a bit of an exaggeration at this moment, especially after this morning with Frankie. But it is the truth-you do not doubt that if you hadn’t said who you were, that Frankie would have killed you in that moment.

Javier’s eyes flash back to your shirt again, and you finally look down. You find your shirt stained with dried blood, likely from the cuts that Frankie put there. “Did…d-did you get hurt?” His voice is barely above a whisper, hands releasing the door frame to run through his hair.

You look back down to the task at hand, placing drinking glasses into the box. This overwhelming feeling of annoyance starts to course through you, hands beginning to shake as you stack each glass. The clinking, the piercing sound of glass on glass starts to rub at your bones unpleasantly.

You close your eyes to try and recenter yourself, Javier’s pleas fading to the background again as he asks more questions. A loud crash has you opening your eyes again, glass shattered at your feet from where you’ve missed the box. Breaths come heavy, your chest rising and falling more rapidly as your anger comes to a head. “I had a fucking knife held to my throat because of you.”

It comes barreling out of your mouth, the same way you said your cover was blown, but more angry. You’ve whirled around to him, clenching your jaw and lifting a shaking finger. “And it’s your fucking fault!”

Javier shakes his head adamantly, sniffling and blinking rapid to hold back tears. Brokenly, he asks for you to wait, to hold on before flying completely off the handle.

You can’t help how you’re still shaking with anger, stepping forward to give Javi a shove to step away from you. “You called me so many times that I was backed into a corner, had a knife held to my throat!”

“Please, baby you weren’t coming home–”

“I had to say I was DEA! This is your fault! You called when Frankie–”

“Frankie?” His hands have clasped around your wrists now, the sadness and worry swiped away from his face in an instant. You realize your mistake, naming Frankie out loud as the person that discovered who you were, instead of one of the security guards. “What the fuck was Frankie doing keeping you an extra day? What were you doing together?”

You scoff, attempting to pull away from him but his grip tightens. Javi’s eyes are wild with anger, searching for answers he still can’t seem to find. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

“It is my fucking business when you’re getting threatened by some drug addict that was practically fired out of his little squad he was in with Santiago Pope.” He snarls, releasing your wrists and looking around your apartment, pacing. “Really? None of my concern? Are you fucking serious right now?”

“I’ve gotten a lot of information from him.” You attempt to sound secure in your answer, clearing your throat to have it come out louder than before. You didn’t know that about Frankie. “He wouldn’t have known or found out if you hadn’t been calling me over and over.”

Javi has the audacity to begin laughing, scratching at the back of his neck and glaring in your direction. “What, do you keep me as ‘PENA DEA’ on that phone? Are you that fucking stupid?” He’s reaching into his back pocket for his cigarettes and lighting one, blowing smoke directly in your face to piss you off.

You reel back, surprise overtaking your insecurity about Frankie’s past with another slew of anger. “Are you stupid enough to call me over and over and not think that maybe I was busy gathering information? Like that maybe they are getting raided today? Right now!”

Javi stubs out the cigarette on the counter, watching the plastic burn slightly before throwing it into the sink. “Right now?” He asks, watching your single nod in defiance. He runs his hands through his hair again, not able to hold back the groan of frustration. “And you didn’t think to come back sooner? To call me on the way? You waited until you were here?”

“They aren’t after what we’re after–”

“Stechner has been on my ass since I’ve had you on this. He’s sniffing around for a mistake, and you’re prancing around being an actual fucking whore?” He yells, face heated and eyes wide to take you in.

And what can you do, exactly? Lie and have it be another argument? Not say the truth and have him know that you have, in fact, been sleeping with your own informant? Instead of a shrug, or an apology, or an admittance, you pull out the only thing in your arsenal that you can think of. “How is that any different than what you did before?”

He shouts as if pained by your words, hunching over himself before standing straight to point a finger at you. “I can’t believe you!”

Now it’s your turn to laugh, your hand rubbing at your forehead. “What were you actually fucking expecting right now, Javi? You asked me to sleep around with men for information that wasn’t even part of an active mission. And then you blew my cover, and had the audacity to yell at me!” You screech back.

When he doesn’t respond immediately you’re back to pushing him, wanting him out of your space. You want him to leave, to leave you alone.

To his credit, Javier takes your shoves, your slaps, and only closes his eyes to breathe deeply through his nose. You wonder briefly if you are going to leave a bruise on him.

He opens his eyes and stares at you, waiting patiently for your shoves to reduce to almost nothing. When he speaks it comes out calm, ready to try again. “You could have called me. Before you stayed the extra night, after he held a knife to your throat-you should have called me if you needed me.”

If you needed me. “I don’t need you.”

The pain in his eyes is apparent, reaching for you again to hold you steady against him. He furrows his brows, shaking his head and desperate to get his point across to you. “You don’t get it.”

You shut your eyes, refusing to look at him. He gives you a small shake, sighing deeply.”You don’t understand how terrified I was? After we fought you haven’t spoken to me, or called me back and I’ve been barely holding it together.” You go to interrupt him, but he continues. “I thought I lost you last night. Thought you were trapped, or hurt and…I shouldn’t have called you so much that it put you in danger, but if you had just told me what was going on–”

He sighs heavily, clasping a hand around the back of your neck to hold you still as his forehead presses to yours. “I need you.” A whimper bubbles out of your chest, listening to his rough swallow. “This isn’t about the money, or the side mission. I need you; do you understand?”

You open your eyes, watering and wide as you stare him down. You’re searching, trying to see if he’s lying. “You can’t guilt trip me.”

Javier holds his breath, pulling you impossibly closer. Your chest is pressed to his, and you’re sure that he can feel your heartbeat through the layers of clothing, pounding. “I’m not. Please, hermosa hear me.”

It’s quiet between you, your breath puffing over his face in humid clouds. You soften slowly, tension leaving your body until you’re leaning all your weight against him. You can’t help it; you’re trying to understand. He was concerned, worried, not thinking as a boss, but as someone that cares for you. He sighs, wrapping his arms around your shoulders to hold you close to him. “I thought I lost you, baby. I’m sorry.”

You’re silent for a while longer, nodding when you finally decide. “I’m sorry.” You whisper against his chest, hands grabbing at the fabric. “I should have called you back.”

Javi hums, rubbing his hand down your spine gently. You pull away from him, sniffling and looking up to his face. “There’s a whole team of them…just raiding the place for money. There won’t be any proof they were there.”

Javier nods, pressing a kiss to your forehead in acceptance. “Let them take the money.”

Javier ushered you out of the apartment quickly, packing what boxes you’ve started into the back of his car and promising to stop by at a later time to get the rest of it.

He’s such a fuck up.

He thought he could handle this months ago, when he first met you and got you involved in this side mission. He thought that you would give some intel, they would do a raid, and that would be the end of it.

He was sorely mistaken.

You’re next to him in his car as he pulls away from the apartment, and his hand slips over yours. You’re stiff for a moment before looking over at him and sighing, squeezing his fingers in reassurance. “You’ll never have to do that again.” He promises, and he’s not sure if he’s promising never to do undercover again, or to being away from him.

He doesn’t want to define it in case you don’t want the latter.

Javi keeps quiet when you don’t respond, squeezing the meat of your palm in his and rushing to his own apartment. He hadn’t told you explicitly but he was not going to leave you alone to your own devices; the dried blood on your shirt had him spiraling enough that he wanted to watch over you tonight.

He has so many things he wants to say, but none of them come out as he unlocks his door and takes your bag for you. He wants to ask if you’re actually okay, if this is what you expected, if you were still mad at him. Were you just appeasing him to stop arguing, or were you genuinely sorry? What happened with Frankie beyond a knife to your throat that made you not tell him what was going on?

None of it comes out as you tell him quietly that you are going to take a shower. He just nods, watching you step away from him and shut the door softly behind you. No, nothing comes out of his mouth until a few minutes later after the water has started, that he hears deep breaths and sniffles echoing off the tile.

He didn’t want to push you, but the sound of you crying was something he couldn’t handle. It urged him forward, lightly knocking on the door and calling your name. When you don’t respond he opens the door, eyes falling to your defeated figure in the stream of water.

“Are you alright, hermosa?” He asks, watching as you step away from the water to glance at him. Your eyes are red, waterlogged and shivering as you nod at him.

“Y-yes. Yeah.” You sniffle, shaking the water from your head and attempting to cover yourself. “I’m fine.”

Javier pauses, stepping forward to close the bathroom door behind him. It’s hot in the bathroom, humid clouds floating from the shower head to him and fogging the mirror. It makes it harder to breathe, but he doesn’t mind if he gets to be closer to you. Javier observes you, not letting his eyes wander much until you face him fully. He can’t help but let his eyes fall to the neat lines across your chest and collarbone, red and angry staring back at him. “What’s that?”

You look down like you weren’t aware you had cuts on your chest, dumbfounded for a moment before you give a noncommittal shrug. “Just a few scratches.”

Javi shakes his head, stepping toward the glass shower door and popping it open. A closer look is all he tells himself, just to inspect that they are fine and that you won’t die from bleeding out in the middle of the night, or of infection at a later date.

His hand reaches out tentatively, running his finger across one of the marks and looking up to your face to watch for a reaction. When you don’t have one, he sighs and let’s his eyes settle on yours. “I’m sorry.” He whispers, his thumb drifting up to the skin covering your pulse, rubbing back and forth as soothingly as possible.

“You don’t need to be.” you say just as quietly, lifting a hand and resting it on his chest. The water on your hand seeps through his shirt, leaving a hot brand on his skin.

Javi’s throat closes, emotions running high. “I should have protected you.”

You shake your head, chastising him. “There was nothing more you could have done, Javi.”

He winces, pressing himself further against you. His shirt is fully soaked now, but he doesn’t care. “I shouldn’t have let you go in the jungle.”

“It’s okay, Javi.” You pat at his chest, pulling your hand away as if you’re only just now realizing that you’ve gotten his clothing wet. His own covers yours, bringing it back to the imprint you’ve left–he wants to feel you against him.

“Please, forgive me.” He begs; he knows he’s begging. He doesn’t beg as far as he is concerned, but something in him is crumbling. He leans forward and presses his lips to your skin, above your brow, your cheekbone, your jaw. He breathes heavily in your ear, shutting his eyes tightly.

He feels your slight nod, a quiet “I forgive you, Javi.” and he’s choked up with tears. He’s rushing to join you in the shower, a couple buttons popping off his shirt as it slides down his arms, your fingers going for the button of his jeans.

Once he’s fully naked and pressed against you, the water is beating down on his back, your fingers drawing gentle shapes up his spine and his face resting against your shoulder. If he opens his eyes, he can see the cuts directly in front of him, and it makes him shutter more. “I’ll make it right, I promise.”

“There’s nothing to make right.” You sigh, tapping with only your index finger as you think. “We’ll raid Lorea, and it will be over.”

He nods, pressing his lips to your collarbone and feeling the mark from Frankie’s knife. He wants to punch himself for not telling you sooner about what he found out. About how Fransisco Morales was a drug addict, that he was not mentally in the right place the last time he was in the military. It feels suffocating, knowing that you had been around him, speaking to him, fucking him.

How did it all go so wrong?

His hands drift from your shoulder blades, down to your hips and give you a squeeze. “Let me make it up to you.” He gruffs, finally making eye contact with you. He sees your confusion, your sudden realization of what he means.

“You…you don’t have to.” You say quietly, letting his fingers drift to the curve of your stomach. Watching him, carefully assessing.

“I want to. If you want me to?” He watches your pupils blow wide, interest peaking as his thumb brushes through the patch of hair above your center, moving down, down, down.

You sigh heavily, swallowing and nodding again. Javier is convinced that if he can make you feel good like he knows he can, then maybe you’ll actually start to forgive him. Even if it’s slowly. His fingers drift between your folds, up and down as lightly as possible. You squirm against him, spreading your legs just enough to let his knee hold one to the side.

Javi looks down, leaning a bit away to get a better look at you while his other hand is still wrapped around the back of your neck, soothing circles into your jaw. “You’re so pretty, baby.” Javier growls through clenched teeth, letting a finger swipe quick circles over your clit.

You pant, reaching a hand out to his bicep and squeezing. No response, just the acknowledgement of your moan is all that he needs.

A single finger is pressed into you, curling over and over as his eyes flick back up to yours. He’s desperate to watch you unfold, feel you pulse around a finger, anything to give him the approval, the want that he desires.

You’re quick to finish, his thumb brushing back and forth over your clit while his finger curls inside of you, his eyes on yours as he talks you to completion. “So fucking perfect, in my place, taking what you want from me.” He whispers, pressing his lips to yours as if to seal the deal between you.

When he pulls away, your eyes opening and half lidded in exhaustion, he reaches for the shower knob and turns it off. Javi helps you out of the shower, drying the both of you efficiently before guiding you into his bedroom where he’s already placed out clothes for you to sleep in. “I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need something, okay? Get some rest.”

He waits for your small smile and nod, hanging by the door for a moment to see his shirt fall over your torso before heading to the kitchen. He planned to stay up for the rest of the evening and through the night, planning this raid on Lorea and letting you finally get some rest.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #frankie morales #javier peña #javier pena narcos #javier pena fic #javier pena fanfic #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you

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