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violentdelightsandviolentends · 9 months

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Pity Party.

Synopsis - Carmy just wants to see you treated the way he thinks you deserve. He decides to take matters into his own hands.

Pairing - Carmen Berzatto x Female Roommate Reader

Word Count - 3k

Warnings - smut. cursing. alcohol mention. carmys filthy mouth.

Age Rating - 18+

Author's Note - hello hello hello!! i am back!! i had a wonderful vacation soaking up the sun, and i am feeling refreshed and ready to go. i have had so many ideas over the past few weeks, so i'm excited to get some of them written asap!! this was a fic that came to me randomly, as i was thinking about roommate!carmen and how much of a menace he'd be if you ever talked about other guys. this was written as a part of my carmen roommates collection. it doesn't follow on from Finders, Keepers or Sweet Dreams, but it does exist in the same universe - so you can decide if this takes place before or after!! as always, feel free to send me any ideas or thoughts or burning desires you have. so much love <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Series Masterlist. Masterlist. Inbox.

"You're back early."

Carmy had swung the door open, expecting to come home to an empty apartment. Instead, he's met with the sight of you, sitting on the couch, undoing the straps of your shoes.

"Fuckin' disaster," you mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

He breathes out a chuckle at the stormy look on your face. Carmy thinks you're cutest when you're angry. He aches to smooth the crease between your brows with his thumb.

"That bad?" he asks, taking a seat next you and kicking off his sneakers.

"You wouldn't even believe."

He rises and makes his way to the kitchen, filling the tea kettle and placing it on the stove top. Grabbing two mugs, he casts a glance over his shoulder at you, frowning at your body language. You look defeated.

Carmy steeps two cups of tea, placing one of them carefully into your waiting hands. He resumes his seat on the sofa, pressing his thigh against yours and turning to face you.

"You wanna talk about it?"

You think for a moment before replying.

"You're gonna laugh at me."

His face instantly crumples, confusion written all over it.

"I'll never laugh at you. I'll laugh with you, sure. But never at you."

He nudges your shoulder with his, urging you to go on.

"Okay, fine. The actual date was pretty good. He took me to that Italian place downtown-"

"Dolce Vita? Did you get the truffle pasta I told you about?" Carmy interrupts you before you can continue.

"Yes, oh my God. It was incredible. Do you think you can recreate it sometime?"

"Fuck yeah. They're pretty secretive with their recipes, but I think I can figure it out. You can help me if you want - I'm gonna need a sous chef."

He pulls a reluctant laugh from you, the sound echoing off the ceramic of your mugs. You both know that being the sous chef involves you sitting on the counter drinking wine while Carmy does all the work.

"Of course. I'll always be your sous chef."

"I'll hold you to that."

You smile at him gently, a little taken aback by the sincerity in his voice.

"Anyway. The dinner went great. He seemed super interested in me, asked me questions, told me about his job, his hobbies, his dog. He was hot, and good to talk to. I thought I'd hit the jackpot."

"And then?"

"And then we went back to his apartment. And it all went to shit."

He chuckles, blue eyes glinting in the moonlight.

"Tell me more."

"You really want to hear about all of this?"

It's not like you and Carmy aren't close. You absolutely are. It's just that there's always been this unspoken connection between the two of you. A bubbling, fiery attraction that you both shut down repeatedly, screwing the lid on tight whenever it rears its head. So, you tend to avoid talking to Carmy about dating. You're scared you'll accidentally blurt out the truth - you compare every single date to him.

"Of course I do."

His answer is so genuine it makes you ache. You continue, hesitantly.

"Well... things got a little... heavy. He wasn't a bad kisser, I guess... he just wasn't... a good one? He kept biting my lip super hard and it kinda hurt. Then he pulled my clothes off like a high schooler, and he's on top of me, and I'm waiting for him to sort of... do... anything? And then he's finished. Like, completely done. And then he has the nerve to ask me if I finished."

Carmy's mouth has fallen open, shock etched across his face. After a long, heavy pause, he speaks.

"What the fuck?"

You look at him for moment, before bursting into contagious laughter. He joins you, both of you with your heads thrown back, giggles reverberating around the lowlit room.

"I mean, seriously," he pants, still laughing. "What the fuck?"

"I didn't even answer him. I just put my clothes on, grabbed my bag and left without saying a word."

Every time you try to stifle your laughter, a giggle escapes. The situation wasn't funny at the time, but looking back, it's hilarious.

All of a sudden, you both go silent. You're deep in thought, reflecting on the seemingly never ending stream of bad dates that you've endured. Carmy is watching you intently, ocean blue eyes glued to your face.

"Fuck," you breathe. "This is kinda pathetic."

Carmy inhales deeply, and turns his body so it's facing yours on the couch.

"The way I see it," he begins, "you have two options."

You quirk a brow in confusion and stay quiet, waiting for him to explain.

"You can sit here feeling sorry for yourself, or, you can let me fuck you the way you deserve."

Your mouth falls open in shock at the exact same moment your brain seems to shut down. You can't think. You can't process his words. All you can focus on is the way he's staring at you. You suddenly feel hot under his gaze, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. A shiver runs down your spine, and you have to remind yourself to breathe.

"Wh-... what?" you choke out.

"You heard me, honey. You can wallow in your little pity party, or you can let me show you what it's like to be with someone who can actually make you come. Your choice."

His voice has dropped an octave lower than usual, the tone warm and honeyed. He's still staring at you, blue gaze unrelenting.

"Is this gonna fuck everything up between us?" you whisper hesitantly.

Carmy reaches out and places a gentle hand on your cheek, thumb stroking careful circles into your skin.

"I don't think anything can fuck up what we have," he murmurs. "You're the only thing in my life that makes sense."

His confession seems to sober you up, the honesty in his words snapping you back to your senses.

"Okay."

He almost does a double take at the sureness in your voice.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Put your money where your mouth is, Carmen."

"There she is," he chuckles. "You scared me when you went quiet for a second there."

"Well, if what you say is true, you're not gonna be able to shut me up for the night."

He laughs darkly, and slides closer to you slightly.

"Oh, honey. You're gonna wish you hadn't said that."

He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, tracing the journey of your neck with his fingertips. He rests his hand lightly at the base of your throat, the heavy weight of it making you pant.

"If there's any point where you don't like something, or you want me to slow down, just say so. Okay?"

You nod your head, entranced by the sudden dominance he's displaying. You've never seen this side of him before. You can't believe he's been hiding it this whole time.

"Words, pretty. Need to hear you say it."

"Yes. I understand. I'll tell you, I promise."

He doesn't say anything in reply, just smirks. He lets you sit in the silence for a moment too long, the anticipation slowly killing you.

"Please, Carmen," you breathe. "Please."

"Fuck," he groans, shuffling closer to you. "You sound so pretty when you beg."

Carmy leans in and kisses your cheek gently, testing the waters. He presses a kiss to your other cheek, and pulls back to watch for your reaction. When he's happy, he tilts forward and leaves a careful kiss on your chin, then your forehead, then both of your closed eyes, before kissing you on the side of your mouth. His closeness makes you whine, desperate for him to give you what you want.

Finally, he connects his lips to yours, starting off slow and tender. When you tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and try to pull him even closer, his resolve snaps. His tongue sweeps into your mouth, exploring eagerly. You clamber over him and climb into his lap, straddling his hips and pressing yourself into his body.

Carmy can't decide where to put his hands. He's grabbing at your waist, running his fingers up your back, pulling you into him by your ass. You're both groaning into each others mouths, enraptured by the other person and the all consuming way they kiss.

"Can I take this off?" he asks lowly, pulling at the hem of your dress.

Instead of answering, you pull it over your head, throwing it onto the floor in front of you.

"Fuck," he murmurs. "Most beautiful girl I've ever seen."

His hands are roaming all of your exposed skin, as if he can't get enough. He's terrified he won't ever get to see you like this again, so he's not going to waste a second.

You grind your hips down into his, eliciting a groan from the both of you. His hands tighten their grip on your waist, as he leans up to press open mouthed kisses to your jaw. Your fingers fly to the hem of his t shirt, pulling it off swiftly. You manage to shove his jeans down and off, before attempting to pull off his underwear. Carmy stops you in your tracks.

"Nuh uh," he tuts. "This is about you. Not me."

He pulls you off his lap gently and shuffles so his back is resting against the couch cushions. He spreads his legs wide, and gestures for you to sit between them. When you don't move, he looks at you carefully.

"Give me a color, pretty girl."

You take a deep breath, and smile at him softly.

"Green, Carmen. Promise."

You manoeuvre sideways, so you can place yourself with your back to his chest. He wraps his arms around you for a moment and holds you tightly, as if he's scared you'll disappear any second. You relax into his embrace, all the tension leaving your body. You have nothing to worry about. It's just you and Carmen, in the place you call home.

You drop your head back into Carmy's shoulder, and allow yourself to get lost in the feeling of his hands on your skin. He's begun tracing patterns down your arms, your sides, your stomach, until he reaches your underwear. He plays with the band, dipping his finger underneath in a feather light touch. Goose bumps rise across your body and you shiver, practically vibrating with need.

"Carmen," you whisper. "Don't tease."

"But that's half the fun," he murmurs into your ear, and you can hear the smile in his voice.

You can picture it perfectly, too. The way his eyes crinkle, the way his mouth curves, the way he bites his lip to stifle it. The image in your mind makes you melt into him further. You want to be as close to him as you physically can be. You'd completely disappear into him if you could.

He brings you back to reality by cupping you over your underwear, groaning when he feels the saturated material.

"Oh, pretty girl. Is this all for me? Fuck."

Suddenly, his game of teasing has lost all its fun. Carmy twists his fingers into your underwear and pulls them off in one swift movement, throwing them in the general direction of your dress on the floor. He places a hand on each of your thighs and spreads them apart, hooking them over his legs.

Carmy starts off slow, careful. He caresses over your skin, gentle and almost apprehensive. When he gets to your core, he swipes a finger through, testing the waters. When you buck your hips into his hand, he knows you're both on the same page.

"Just relax, okay? Gonna make you feel good."

His deep, smooth, whiskey like voice is doing nothing to help the heat bubbling in your stomach. You only whine in response, wiggling your hips to urge him to keep going.

Carmy throws one arm around your stomach, keeping you plastered to his body. You can feel him hot and hard against your back, and you so desperately want to feel him that your mouth is watering. You grind back into him, and he reads your mind.

"Not yet," he whispers. "This is about you, remember? Need to show you what you've been missing."

With that, he circles your clit with two fingers, slowly but surely. He revels in the noises you elicit. They're making him dizzy, disorientated. He never thought he'd be the one to pull a sound like that from you. He's quite convinced he's dreaming.

"Let me hear you. Don't hold back on me, okay?"

You nod your head frantically, willing to give him whatever he asks if you get what you want.

Carmy slips a finger into you slowly, moaning under his breath at your warmth. When he thinks you're ready, he adds a second finger, and sets a steady rhythm, trying to figure out what you like.

After he's set his pace, he starts to curl his fingers on the up stroke, grinning to himself when he finds the spot.

"Yeah? Right there? That's it, isn't it?"

You're nodding and shaking and pawing at his forearms, trying to tether yourself to reality in any way you can. You think you might be floating, on cloud 9, in some sort of euphoric trance. You can't believe no one's ever made you feel like this before. You're convinced no one ever will again.

Carmy quickens his pace and basks in the glory of your moans. He thinks this might be the most beautiful you've ever looked, spread out completely for him. Every inch of your skin is touching his, and it makes his heart skip a beat for a second.

He presses a kiss into your hair and keeps his mouth there, murmuring honeyed praises into your ear.

"Doin' so good for me."

"You got it, honey, that's it."

"Atta girl. Keep going. Almost there."

"You look so fuckin' pretty like this. Fuck. Gonna be thinking about this forever."

"I'll ruin you, baby. Nothing's ever gonna compare to this, to what we have."

All you can do is moan in response, his filthy words pushing you closer and closer to the edge. You're almost there, but something is stopping you. You whine in frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Carmy feels the tension suddenly grasp your muscles, and leans down to mutter to you softly.

"What is it, sweet girl? What do you need? Just tell me. Anything, and I'll give it to you."

You're not sure how much you trust your voice right now, so you decide to show him instead. You take the hand that he's using to hold you to him and move it up your body until it's resting against your throat. You tighten your fingers around his, and moan in response to the pressure.

"Oh, baby," he coos. "Filthy fuckin' girl. Here I thought you were so innocent, and this whole time you wanted to be choked like a whore?"

The way he degrades you so lovingly makes you mewl. You'd never ever trust anyone else to speak to you this way in such an intimate moment - but with Carmen, there's no hesitation. You know he's just telling you what you need to hear in the heat of the moment. And you love him for it.

"Fuck, Carmen," you manage to choke out. "Keep going. Don't stop, please."

"I'll do anything you want if you keep saying my name like that," he whispers.

"Carmen," you moan in response. "Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy Carmy."

You're chanting his name like a prayer. He's rutting into your back, hips grinding and circling in time with his fingers that are maintaining their steady rhythm. His fingers tighten around your throat as he crooks his digits just right, and the result is a devastating moan from you that Carmy wishes to have on repeat for the rest of his life.

"So close," you whisper hoarsely. "Harder."

Carmy uses his thumb to circle your clit with one hand, other hand pulling you by your neck back into him tightly. He grinds his hips dirtily into you, and the feeling of him so silky and warm against you is what sends you over the edge. The corners of your vision go white as you arch into him, head thrown backwards into his chest. The sounds you're making are so melodic, so borderline angelic that Carmy almost cries. Heaven, he thinks. This is salvation.

Carmy finishes with you, climaxing onto the soft skin of your back. You both relax simultaneously, chests heaving and panting. He removes his fingers gently and wraps both arms around you, pulling you into him tightly despite the mess. He reaches to brush the hair out of your face, and the gesture is so tender it makes your lip quiver.

"Thank you," you whisper after what feels like hours of comfortable silence.

"Sorry I called you a whore," he murmurs back.

You let out a surprised laugh, vibrating with amusement in his arms.

"I know you didn't mean it."

"I mean I did give you the best orgasm of your life, so... call it even?"

"You're forgiven," you chuckle. "Completely forgiven."

You trace gentle patterns over his forearms with your fingertips, following the black ink of his tattoos. He sighs in contentment and places a kiss into your hair, relaxing further into the couch.

You sit together like that for a while, neither of you too concerned with the time. It's not often you see Carmy so relaxed, so serene. You're enjoying it for as long as you can.

"We should clean up," he says quietly, eventually. "Sorry about the mess."

"It's okay. Worth it," you tease, pinching his thigh. He pinches your side in retaliation, which makes you jump.

"Come on, trouble."

He stands from the couch, never letting go of the grip he has on you. You have no choice but to stand with him, yelping as he half carries you through the apartment towards the shower.

The sounds of both of your laughter bounce off of the abandoned mugs of tea still sat on the coffee table, melodic and joyous. The moonlight seeps through the windows, illuminating the beginning of something special in the living room of your shared apartment.

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peaches-creek · 4 months

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When he walks through the door, you are cooking. Smells like something Italian but maybe not. He hears the bubbling of a pot and a searing of a pan. He crouches as he takes off his boots, caked in dirt and stinking of something foreign. He can’t greet you after a month like this, covered in grease and smelling of gunpowder and sweat. You heard him drop his duffle bag. He hears do drop the spoon you were using and the pitter-patter of your feet coming to greet him. Your smiling face turns the corner.

“You’re home.” You gently say as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him into your arms with his face in your neck. You pull his mask off and give a kiss to his temple.

“I smell.” He says.

“Everyone smells,” she quips, “lemme hold you for a minute.” He lets her do exactly that.

After a minute or so he tells her she needs to finish cooking, and that he needs to shower. They can have a meal together and then take a well deserved nap together.

While he’s in the shower he takes his time decompressing. Trying to become Simon after a month of being Lt. Ghost. He thinks of what you might be cooking instead of the mistake he made that almost costed Price his life. He uses your conditioner and gingerbread body wash, knowing that you wouldn’t mind. You never do. It shocks him, every time, when he thinks of how much you Love him. You know what he does, and you still call him your “cutie-patootie.”

By the time he’s out of the shower, dinner is on the table, warm and on his favorite blue plates. You made him lemon breaded chicken and garlic parmesan pasta, his second favorite dish, first being his mother’s meatloaf.

“You smell familiar.” You laugh.

“This smells great,” he states, “not as good as me though.”

You place a kiss on his lips.

“Okay now that you have kissed the chef, you may eat your meal.” You move to the other side of the table, sitting across from him.

“Catch me up, what did I miss?” He says.

You spend the next half an hour talking his ear off as he shovels food into his face. He prefers that, not only does he like hearing your voice but it also helps him settle in. Hearing all the things that you did around the house, putting up new pictures, the ones that you took when you guys went to see the Eiffel Tower. You also got a few new plants, and told him that you waited for him to get home so you could name them together. You also said how you started watching some new documentary that he had to see.

He spent his whole life moving from one place to another, barely living. Now he has you. You move him and he moves you. Once he was finished with his plate, you took it to the sink and placed it on top of the others, you can do those later, it’s time to put your man to bed. He deserves it.

“Okay now, let’s get you to bed.” You pull him up and drag him to your shared bed. It’s quite a funny thing to see, such a large man getting dragged through the halls just to be tucked into bed.

You reach your destination. You let go of his hand and pull the covers back. You settle yourself in first, waving your hand to tell him to come in. You then maneuver him to put his head on your chest.

“All settled in?” You ask. He nods his head. No words needed. He was exactly where he needed to be. You begin to rub his back as he slowly finds himself falling into a sweet sleep, courtesy of you.

#simon riley fluff #simon riley angst #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #cod x reader #cod mwii

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fizziepopangel · 2 months

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HuskerDust Headcanons (romantic)

Husk says “I love you” first. It’s not a big romantic thing, but to Angel Dust it means the world.

Angel and Husk were both quite affectionate with each other. The two can often be found cuddling in one of their bedrooms. Angel loves being held, but his favorite way for them to cuddle is actually having Husk lay on top of him since he finds the pressure grounding, and he’s found that scratching the cat demon’s back between his wings or scratching behind his ears while he’s tired and comfortable results in purring.

Angel steals Husk's hat every now and again.... Sometimes he steals it solely for the purpose of putting it on Fat Nuggets to take cute pictures of him in it.... While the pictures are adorable, this has resulted in the little pig occasionally taking it upon himself to steal the hell cat's hat, resulting in the man chasing the little creature around the hotel like a madman.

Husk becomes the father figure Fat Nuggets never had and Angel absolutely goes crazy for the relationship between his pet pig and boyfriend.

Although he doesn’t show it often, Husk does sometimes get overwhelmed, causing him to eventually break down in tears. During these episodes, Angel usually holds the grumpy drunk, rubbing his back and humming “Loser Baby” until he’s calmed down enough to talk, or until he’s fallen asleep.

Angel is a sucker for romance. He buys Husk flowers, makes big plans for their anniversary, makes long and mushy posts and posts cutesy pictures on his sinstagram, and goes all out for Husk’s birthday. Husk acts annoyed, but he secretly enjoys the little romantic gestures.

Despite not being the most romantic man, he does randomly grab Angel at random points while they’re together and begin dancing with the man, even humming or singing softly under his breath when Angel points out that there’s no music.

Charlie has so many candid photos of the couple being cute. She’s making a scrapbook for them for their anniversary

After Husk showed him the song, Angel plays “A Sunday Kind of Love" whenever their anniversary lands on a Sunday and makes Husk breakfast in bed as it plays. He calls it their song.

When Angel can, he does drag shows at one of his favorite clubs in downtown Pride. Husk goes to every one of Angel’s drag shows to watch him perform and despite his usual gruff demeanor, he cheers the loudest when his boyfriend is on stage.

After long, rough shoots in Valentino's studio, Angel usually comes back to the hotel exhausted and sore so he sits at the bar, sipping water and listening to Husk grumble about work until he falls asleep at the bar. Husk usually ends up carrying him to bed despite constantly grumbling about being "too old for this shit".

In the event that they both wanted to get married, both of these men would try to make the perfect plan to propose to the other.

In an attempt to be romantic, Husk would begrudgingly ask Alastor to help him make a nice Italian dinner and a cake to hide the ring in. He would be an anxious wreck through the whole dinner as Angel ate as he waited for dessert and the discovery of the ring within the cake.

Angel on the other hand would go the cheesier way of dressing Fat Nuggets up in a little tux and tying a ring around his neck with a bow and having him come up to Husk as the two had dessert with a sign that reads “Will you marry my daddy?”

In true romantic comedy fashion, Angel’s proposal pig would get to Husk right as Angel nearly choked on the ring Husk put into the cake. Of course, they would both say yes.

Despite not being the romantic in their relationship, Husk is a bit of a groom-zilla. It’s not really that he cares about flowers or color schemes or any of it, he’d be happy as long as he’s with the man he loves and their an open bar so he lets Angel handle it all for the most part…. But he does think Angel deserves the best and he’d be damned if he didn’t make sure that man’s day didn’t go absolutely perfectly.

Niffty makes Angel’s wedding dress, and although he will deny it, Husk does cry when he sees Angel in it.

Husk doesn't choose the first song they dance to, but he does request later in the night that the song Frank Sinatra’s “I Could Write a Book" be played so he can ask Angel to dance to that.

Husk recites his vows to Anthony, not Angel Dust.

#fizziepop thoughts #vivziepop #hazbin hotel #hazbin headcanons #all aongs are linked for you to listen #husk hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin hotel angel dust #husker x angel dust #fat nuggets #husk is fat nuggets second dad #frank sinatra #i could write a book #a sunday kind of love #etta james #loser baby #this is one of my favorite ships

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mypoisonedvine · 1 month

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𝐚 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | riley poole x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 - having a girlfriend who can decode secret messages comes in handy when you're a treasure hunter; and having a clingy, needy treasure hunter boyfriend can be annoying when you're trying to decode something, but you find a way to compromise.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 4.4k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - SMUT (18+ only, and honestly who under 18 is watching this 20 year old movie about the declaration of independence? regardless, minors go away), established relationship, free use kink, touch of dumbification kink, FLIP PHONES (oh the noughties nostalgia), a totally unnecessary plot because everyone deserves a dose of colonial american history with their filth, riley and reader being nerdlove goals

(honestly can't believe I actually wrote this but now that I did I'm like hold up... is this my new obsession??)

When Ben answered the door obviously not ready, and obviously surprised by Riley’s presence, it didn’t take a genius to put together that he’d forgotten about tonight— which Riley had sort of seen coming, with how many times this one thing had been put off or rescheduled at the last minute. One of the downsides of being a treasure hunter? Your coworkers tend to be somewhat… unreliable.

“Riley— what are you doing here?” Ben wondered.

“Warm greeting as always…” Riley sighed before answering the question: “I'm here to pick you up.”

Ben gave Riley an even more confused look.

“For dinner,” Riley added flatly. “At Talerico’s. To meet my—”

“To meet your new girlfriend, oh god,” Ben realized, “was that tonight?”

“No, it's tomorrow, I'm just picking you up twenty-four hours in advance,” Riley replied snarkily.

“I'm sorry, Riley,” Ben sighed, “I really— I do wanna meet her, Abigail did too— but I completely forgot— can we move this to another night?”

“Ben, we've moved this so many times that she's not even a new girlfriend anymore,” Riley sighed.

“I know, I know, but we can't tonight— Abigail just went out,” Ben justified.

“Where'd the missus go?”

“The library, she's trying to help me with something.”

“A clue? It's another clue, isn't it,” Riley realized, not trying very hard to hide his excitement.

“I was going to call you tomorrow,” Ben explained. “Come in, I’ll show you.”

After walking into Ben’s house and upstairs to the study, Riley wrinkled his brow when Ben handed him the coded message. “Well, that’s just a whole bunch of letters,” Riley noticed.

“Astute as always, Riley,” Ben frowned. “We found them in a journal that belonged to James Madison.”

“Why would James Madison write down a bunch of random letters in his journal?”

“No— each letter was underlined in a different entry. And, at the back, we found this,” Ben continued, showing Riley a scanned parchment.

“GABE FADECCE,” Riley read aloud, changing his mind a few times about the pronunciation. “It’s a name, right?”

“It must be,” Ben shrugged, “but we’ve been searching online for any evidence of a Fadecce family or a Gabriel that worked for or with Madison, and we haven’t found anyone. That’s what Abigail went to the library for.”

“It sounds Italian, could he be Italian?” Riley wondered as Ben set down the images with a sigh.

“I don’t know— possibly, but we’re at a dead end at this point,” Ben replied. “I’m sure we’d have a lot more to work with if we could decipher those letters from the journal entries, but we were up all night trying to figure it out—”

“Not what I’d be up all night doing with my girlfriend, but okay,” Riley interjected.

“And I haven’t gotten anywhere with it,” Ben concluded.

“Wait— you can't solve it?” Riley challenged with a smug grin. “The Ben Gates can't solve a clue?”

“It's not that I can't, it's just that a code like this requires a lot of time,” Ben explained. “I'm a historian, not a cryptographer.”

“We need a codebreaker,” Riley nodded thoughtfully, “somebody who can decode something this complex, and knows enough about the Founding Fathers to have some context for the message...” He tapped on his chin like he was really thinking about it, before proudly smiling and tilting his head in faux-realization. “Hey, how about a former intelligence agent who specialized in decryption, with a master's in world history and beautiful eyes that you can get lost in for hours?”

Ben raised an eyebrow at Riley. “Yes, that would be great— give or take the eyes thing— but where are you gonna find one of those?”

“At Talerico’s,” Riley announced, “waiting at a table for four.”

“Your girlfriend is a cryptographer?” Ben realized with wide eyes.

“I told you you'd like her,” Riley beamed.

Riley was engrossed in his game, furiously clicking the mouse and clacking at the keyboard before mumbling a curse of defeat and pulling the headset off; sighing, he turned around and looked over the back of the couch at you.

He'd only started playing the game because you weren't giving him attention, so it made sense that as soon as he died, he'd go back to bugging you. “Hey,” he greeted plainly, smiling yet clearly fighting the urge to pout.

You were laying on your stomach on the bed, half-dressed, looking at the pages Ben had given you and scribbling notes on a pad. “Hey,” you returned flatly after a pause, adjusting your reading glasses before taking a few more notes.

“You look cute doing that,” he hummed.

“Doing what?”

“Thinking.”

You frowned a little in concentration but didn't look away from your papers. “I like to think I'm always thinking…”

“No wonder you're so cute all the time then,” he cooed, leaning in closer and resting his chin in his hands.

He waited for a moment for you to keep the conversation going, but sighed when you simply continued working on the cipher without paying him any mind.

Getting off the couch with a sigh, he hopped onto the bed and laid beside you, making the mattress bounce a few times. He kept looking at you for a little while, eventually reaching out and rubbing your back for a moment, before sliding himself even closer to you and planting a kiss on your shoulder.

Even with ninety-five percent of your attention on the puzzle in front of you, you could still tell what sort of mood Riley was getting himself into. “Well, there is one thing that makes you stop thinking…” he recalled in a purr, nuzzling into the crook of your neck and giving you a teasing trail of kisses there.

You sighed a little and shrugged him away. “Riley, I need to focus.”

“Baaabe,” he pouted. “I can't help it, you're just so— how am I supposed to resist you like this?”

“I'm literally just laying here,” you noticed.

“You know what you do to me in those bifocals, sweetheart.”

You snorted and finally looked back at him, admiring the puppy dog eyes he was giving you— they almost always worked on you, and he knew it. Sighing in relent, you looked back at the pages in front of you. “I need to get this done, I promised your friend I would finish it in twenty-four hours,” you explained, “but you can go ahead.”

“Go ahead?” he repeated, confused.

“You can just use me, while I work,” you offered flippantly, hardly noticing the way his face turned red.

“R-right… I can just, um… use you. That's— okay, sure,” he coughed nervously.

“Just be quick,” you insisted.

“Yeah, that's a challenge,” he scoffed, shuffling on the bed to straddle your legs and run his hands over your back. “I, uh, like when you wear my shirts,” he informed you, as if feeling his erection press against your ass wasn’t enough of a clue.

“Just get on with it, please?” you groaned.

“Yeah, yeah— sorry…” he mumbled, moving his hands down to your panties which he traced slowly. “These are cute,” he noticed aloud anyways, and you sighed a bit to yourself as you realized how futile it was to try to keep him from talking. You were just going to have to tune him out to get this done.

His fingers shakily hooked into the elastic and pulled your panties down, a low hum echoing in his chest as he looked at you. Grabbing handfuls of your ass and kneading them gently, he mumbled something to himself that you weren’t really paying attention to— until he got your attention suddenly with a quick slap. “Hey!” you yelped, jumping slightly.

“Sorry, sorry,” he breathed through a grin, “couldn’t help myself. I-I won’t distract you anymore, okay? Just, you know, keep working…”

You did just that, of course, re-ordering the papers in your hand to look at the scanned back page again.

He went on mumbling to himself as he shoved his sweatpants down to his thighs to free his cock: “juuuust keep working,” he breathed.

He spit into his hand quickly and smeared it on himself, before nudging in between your legs and pressing himself to your opening.

Admittedly, you did react slightly when he pushed inside you— a wince from the stretch of it, especially without much preparation— but you managed to keep quiet and focus on your work again. “God, so tight,” he groaned, digging his fingers into your hips slightly as he slid deeper. “You're too good to me, baby…”

He pushed as deep as he could go, which was honestly a bit further than you expected at this angle, and leaned over you slightly as he started to move.

“You feel so good,” he praised through a heavy breath, not taking very long to savor the moment before picking up speed. You knew if you reacted too strongly to what he was doing, he'd notice instantly and start trying to pull you away from your work; so, you did your best to focus on the problem, even if you found yourself gripping the pages a bit tighter.

Even if your attention was straight ahead, you almost wished you could see him now— but then again, you had a pretty good idea of what you would see if you looked back: his mouth parted slightly with sighs of pleasure, a subtle pink flush across his face, his eyes going a little glassy as they drifted over you. In fact, you could sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially at those times that his fingers traced your back and hips.

Realizing something suddenly about the cipher in front of you, you put your pen between your teeth and pulled the cap off, biting down on it slightly to hold it in place so you could keep writing on the paper your other hand held. “Fuck, you're so hot,” Riley groaned, starting to thrust a bit more urgently. Resisting the urge to smile to yourself too much, you kept taking your notes and didn't especially pay attention to him behind you, even when his occasional whimpers started to grow louder.

For the most part, you were able to keep your focus. It wasn’t that Riley was especially easy to ignore— certainly not with him going just a bit faster with every thrust— but you were finally on a roll with this puzzle; maybe you would’ve already solved it if it weren’t for your boyfriend, even if he was a welcome distraction.

He panted with each movement, holding on tighter to your hips. “Fuck,” he whispered, leaning down after a moment to rest his forehead on your shoulder. Normally, you would have to stop yourself from reaching back to run your fingers through his hair, but you were too engrossed in your work; and it was a good thing, too, because if you’d done that he almost certainly would’ve grabbed the papers and tossed them away, impatiently demanding for you finish that later and let him finish now.

Instead, it seemed like the pace and intensity of both your decryption and his movements grew together: your writing was hurried while his thrusts were faster and harder suddenly, until you could hear skin hitting skin, his groans muffled slightly as they came out through his teeth.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, taking your pen away from the paper abruptly and looking at your work.

“Yeah, you like that?” he encouraged in a rough voice.

“Oh my god, I solved it,” you announced, hardly noticing how he'd misunderstood your exclamation.

That seemed to break him out of his focus for a moment, and he stopped moving as he leaned down over you, resting his chin on your shoulder to read the page you were holding. “At the place of eighty-five pleas, remove the Crucifiction keys,” he read aloud from the paper— once he managed to navigate your disorganized notes.

“It's a polyalphabetic substitution cipher,” you explained excitedly. “Once I realized the key word was his wife’s name it was relatively simple— aside from having to reverse engineer some Vignere tables—”

“But what does it mean?” he wondered. “What even is a Crucifiction key? Please don’t tell me Ben’s gonna rob some nuns.”

“This was Madison’s journal,” you recalled, “and he co-wrote the Federalist papers with Alexander Hamilton and John Jay— eighty-five pleas— but Hamilton wrote the majority in his home. I think we need to go to his estate, and see if they still have any of the instruments he owned.”

“Instruments?”

“The Crucifiction keys, that threw me off too,” you admitted, “but Hamilton was a pretty accomplished pianist— but he would’ve played the colonial precursor to the piano, the fortepiano, which was created by an Italian inventor named Cristofori. Cristo as in Christ, obviously, and fori meaning ‘holes’. The Crucifiction! The keys are piano keys!”

“But who’s Gabe Fadecce?” he pressed.

“It’s not a name,” you answered, “it’s a song. G, A, B, E, F…” you hummed each note as best you could recall. “If we start at the first key in the bass and take out the first G, A, and so on up the scales, I’m guessing there will be another clue beneath them, or on the back or something.”

“You're amazing,” he smiled, kissing you on the cheek proudly.

“I'll call Ben,” you decided, reaching to pick up your phone from nearby on the bed and flip it open; you hadn't even opened your contacts yet before Riley wrapped his hand around yours and— gently— pulled it away and closed it.

“I'll call Ben,” he offered, “later.”

You turned to look at him, and he smiled at you, though there was something softer and darker about his gaze as it fell slowly to your lips.

“You and I have unfinished business first,” he continued softly before kissing you with more patience than you expected from him after all that…

When he pulled away, you reached up to take off your glasses, but he clicked his tongue as he stopped your hand from moving any further.

“No no no, leave those on,” he encouraged. You grinned before he kissed you again, his weight sinking into your back as he slipped an arm around your shoulders. You moaned softly into the kiss when he started moving again; it was a relaxed pace, but with him draped over you like this, he seemed to go so much deeper.

When he pulled away, you found yourself leaning towards him for more— but he just smirked at you and propped himself upright again, starting to move faster behind you.

“Look back at me,” he requested in a softer voice, and when you turned to look over your shoulder at him behind you, you found him biting his lip at the sight. “Oh god,” he choked on a groan, meeting your gaze before shutting his eyes and tilting his head back. “Fuck, is it weird that you ignoring me kinda turned me on?”

You laughed a little, and shook your head. “No, that's fine… I can go back to it, if you want—”

“No, please— I still like you better like this,” he insisted. “I like how responsive you are.”

He ran his hand up your back and you shivered, rocking your hips up slightly as he ran his fingers over your hair before taking a hold of your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he breathed, something beautifully dark to his voice, “like that.”

He began to fuck you hard— not fast, but intense and deep and just the right amount of impatient— and you didn't even try to hold back the loud whine of pleasure that jumped from your chest. “Fuck,” you gasped, “oh my god, yes…”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged, watching with half-lidded eyes at the way you moved under him, your body naturally starting to rock back towards his. “Tell me how that feels.”

“Good,” you panted.

“But not good enough to distract you from your work, huh?” he challenged.

“Well, to be fair, nothing feels better than cracking a code,” you giggled.

“Oh, baby,” he groaned, putting his hands on either side of you on the bed so he could lean down and kiss your neck, only to bite it a second later— not too hard, but a little harder than just playful. You felt him smile when you yelped softly. “You’re trying to piss me off, right?”

“Maybe,” you shrugged a little bit.

He sat back up and pulled out of you unexpectedly, but thankfully explained himself before you would’ve likely let out a pathetic whine that he would’ve held against you. “Turn over,” he instructed, “and take that shirt off.”

You flipped onto your back with a smile; “I thought you liked how I look in your shirts,” you reminded him as he helped you pull it over your head and toss it aside.

“Yeah, but I like how you look without them even more,” he explained, running his hands along your sides before surprising you as he suddenly bent down to swirl his tongue around a hardening nipple.

“Fuck,” you gasped, grabbing onto his hair as he moved to the other, first with his eyes shut and then opening them to look up at you as your back arched.

“You’re so pretty,” he praised as his lips traveled to your neck; he yanked you closer by your hips, making you laugh slightly with surprise as you slid across the bed, though it turned into a moan when he thrust into you again in one go.

This time, he didn’t hold back at all: rough, needy, hungry. You moaned louder than you planned to, grabbing onto his shoulders through his t-shirt.

“Sorry,” he panted out through a thin laugh, “but I can’t slow down now— not after you drove me crazy like that. God, baby, you’re so fucking wet—”

You choked on the back of your own throat; you couldn’t help it, you just loved the way he said that.

“— this is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

“Uh huh,” you mumbled,

“You like when I use you, huh?” he taunted, and you bit your lip before nodding. “That’s pretty kinky, you know. Is that all you wanna be? A fucktoy?”

“Oh god,” you groaned, accidentally digging your nails into his shoulder, though he didn’t seem to mind.

“Want me to just fuck you whenever I feel like it, whatever you’re doing?” he continued.

“Yes,” you admitted in a hiss, head dropping back onto the bed.

“You're really trying to spoil me,” he cooed, leaning down to kiss your neck in between words. “Be careful what you wish for, sweetheart— I might end up fucking you five times a day. At least.”

You moaned lowly, feeling your muscles seize up on him briefly, making him laugh in the most condescending-yet-sexy way.

“Oh, fuck— you want that!” he realized, and his voice dropped to a low growl again as he thrusted even faster, teeth teasing your pulse. “You can never get enough, can you?”

Not that you ever really thought your response to that was going to be especially coherent… but the way you cried out totally gave yourself away; how had he made you so desperate so fast?!

“Oh, poor baby,” he offered pityingly, only to fuck you even faster until you whined pathetically. “You don’t wanna think, huh? Just wanna be my hole.”

“Y-yeah,” you gasped, “fuck…”

“You’re too fucking perfect, you know that?” he praised. “The only thing sexier than fucking you while you use that gorgeous brain of yours, is fucking you until you can’t.”

Your moan was sort of trapped in the back of your throat as you tried to swallow it down; you wished you had the wherewithal to hold it back better, but you weren’t really used to him talking like this. Normally he would just go on tangents of praise and begging (as needed), and even though it wasn’t your first glimpse of his more dominant side, this all felt a bit different. Even the way he was looking at you seemed different— a sort of pride in his eyes, pride in his own ability to turn you into a wet and whimpering mess.

“So fucking good,” he cooed, “you’re so good, baby— my good, dumb little fucktoy.”

“G-god,” you choked, holding on tighter to the sheets under you, trying to hold yourself together.

“You’d better come fast, ‘cause I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” he warned with a sigh— which would be a much more credible threat if he’d ever left you hanging. But no, those times Riley’s stamina hadn’t taken you all the way, he was more than happy to put his mouth on you and let it do the rest of the work.

This time, though, all he needed was a thumb drawing rough circles on your clit to help you along. You hadn’t even noticed how sensitive it had become, not until your back arched and a needy whine jumped from your chest. “Oh fuck, Riley, I’m close,” you yelped.

“Yeah?” he whined— actually, he repeated it a few times as he watched you get closer to your peak, but it was all falling on deaf ears as your moans got louder and louder.

“Yes!” you cried out, shaking under him; even with his weight pressing you down into the bed, it began to feel like you were floating somehow. It was one of those orgasms that left you a little numb, with little jolts of raw pleasure that were almost too much— but your only defense was holding tighter onto him, inside and out.

“O-oh god,” he choked weakly, the movement of his thumb slowing but his hips going faster than ever. “Fuck, fuck!”

He stopped all at once, burying himself in one last stroke as deep as he could reach, moaning lowly against the crook of your neck as he went mostly limp atop you.

After catching your breath for a few moments, you hummed softly in contentment and he carefully lifted himself up just to fall back down beside you on the bed. He looked at you with heavy eyes but a huge smile; “You wear me out, you know that?” he breathed, reaching up to move some hair stuck to your face.

“You distract me from my work, you know that?” you countered.

“Hey, you got it done,” he defended. “We’ll let Ben know as soon as I… you know, remember how to exist. And use cell phones.”

“And maybe after a shower…” you suggested. As soon as you saw the sparkle in Riley’s eye you added: “Separately. I’ll pass out before we can make it to dinner tonight if we just end up fucking again.”

“I mean, they’ve been putting off dinner for months— why can’t we blow them off for once?” he suggested with a smirk, moving closer to you on the bed.

“I thought I’d worn you out,” you remembered with a breathless laugh, and he wrapped an arm around you to pull you into him.

“You did,” he sighed against your neck, “I’m just… easily re-inspired.”

It was a good thing this place was mostly empty, since this was technically somewhat sensitive information, but you figured anyone who overheard wouldn’t know enough about the conversation to glean anything too significant. You found yourself rubbing your hands together under the table anxious as you watched Ben across from you, holding your work, and waited for his response.

“This is incredible,” Ben smiled as he read your decryption, making both you and Riley smile back with pride. “A polyalphabetic substitution cipher, I should’ve known.”

“Yeah, any idiot would’ve known that,” Riley joked flatly.

“Where’d you find this girl?” Ben asked him, and you glanced at your boyfriend to find a little flush on his cheeks.

“You know, the technical answer is that we met at a panel lecture proposing that certain ‘random’—” he accentuated the word with a sarcastic tone and air-quotes— “radio frequencies detected by military technology might be messages from extraterrestrials—”

Ben rolled his eyes even at the passing mention of one of Riley’s more absurd conspiracy theories.

“But,” Riley continued, “I have a theory that she was actually created in a lab, specifically for me, by a team of scientists with the inexplicable goal of making me happy.”

“Oh, come on,” you giggled nervously, shoving Riley on the shoulder but failing to stop him from giving you a kiss on your heated cheek.

“That line working on you really is a testament to the fact that you’re made for each other,” Ben offered, and you decided to ignore the backhanded element of the compliment because of your sense that there was something very genuine about it.

“Look who’s here,” Riley pointed towards the front door of the restaurant, over Ben’s shoulder, causing the latter to turn in his seat and look back. “Abigail, over here!”

She waved when she saw you, quickly approaching the table and taking her seat as she apologized for being tardy; “This is Dr. Abigail Chase,” Ben introduced her with a proud smile.

“Oh, don’t be so formal,” she gently scolded him (maybe everything she said sounded that nice with her accent, though), but she beamed as she grabbed your extended hand to shake it. “It’s so nice to meet you, finally— I’ve heard so much from Riley. He’s been bragging about you so much these past few months, I feel like I already know you!”

“Apparently he met her attending some panel about secret alien messages from space,” Ben told her with a smile and a yeah, I know, it’s crazy look in his eyes.

“Attending?” Riley repeated with a scoff. “We were both speakers!”

Abigail was a little better at hiding any judgmental instinct; “How perfect,” she announced sweetly.

“She’s a real whiz with decryption though— look at this,” Ben instructed, handing the (condensed) page of your notes over to Abigail, who took it and tilted her head as she read to herself.

“Wow,” she sighed, “you made quick work of it: Hamilton’s fortepiano? That must be in a museum somewhere.”

“It’s still in his home in New York,” you replied quickly, “we already looked into it.”

“Did you help her at all with the solve?” Ben asked Riley suddenly, who turned to you with a slightly mischievous look in his eyes.

“Uh,” he stalled before clearing his throat nervously, but never looking away from you— “y-yeah, I helped… in my own way.”

#riley poole x reader #riley poole smut #national treasure #justin bartha

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mistiell · 1 year

Text

Let me Wrap my Teeth Around the World

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Summary: Saturday finally rolls around and Spencer takes you out to dinner. When he drops your off at your apartment, you ask him to stay

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: Fluff, spencer being love drunk and adorable af, protected piv (18+)

A/N: PART 3!!! This is the last part for this mini series. Fair warning, this has not been proofread so I’ll probably come back to correct some things. Hope you guys like it!

Part 2

After four whole days, Saturday finally rolls around, and to say Spencer is nervous would be an understatement. He spent approximately sixty-seven hours, forty-two minutes, and twenty seconds attempting to come up with somewhere to take you, and he thinks he finally has a rather sound proof plan.

As he stands outside of your apartment, he goes over his plan once more in his head just as you open the door.

“Spence! Hey!” You greet him with a contagious smile before taking his hand to lead him inside. You look him up and down once before grinning puckishly at him, “Someone looks handsome.”

His face flushes red as he stutters out, “Th-Thanks.”

“I just have to grab my purse.” You smile kindly before skipping off towards your bedroom.

“Okay.” He nods, taking a moment to admire your decor. The first thing he notices is the scent of pumpkin spice hanging in the air, presumably from the recently extinguished candle sitting on your coffee table. The space is cluttered in a cosy, lived-in sort of way, with a fair amount of pillows settled on the couch and at least three different throw blankets stacked hanging over the back of an armchair. It’s very you, he thinks.

“Sorry for taking so long. Took me a second to find it.” You titter, and it’s now that he notices your outfit. You’re wearing a little black dress – something between formal and casual – that hugs your waist before tapering out at your hips to flow and fall to mid thigh. The sleeves are long and flowy, and the neckline shows off a fair bit of your chest — a detail he lingers on a little too long before hastily forcing his attention elsewhere.

When you look down at the ground and start fidgeting, he realises he hasn’t said anything, “You– you look gorgeous.”

“Thank you.” You smile shyly before taking his hand and tugging him out the door, “Now, c’mon! I want to know what you’ve got planned for us this evening.”

He follows you into the elevator down to the underground before taking the lead, opening the passenger side door to his car for you before climbing in on the other side.

“So,” You start as he shifts the car into gear and pulls out of his parking spot, “Where are we headed?”

“I thought we could go to that Italian place you liked the last time we went out with the team?” He suggests as he pulls out onto the street.

“Sounds good to me.” You reply, pulling at your dress as it rides up a little too high for your liking.

Spencer certainly isn’t complaining though. He’s got a great view of your thighs from here. When he dares to take his eyes off the road to glance at you out of the corner of his eye, of course.

The drive to the restaurant isn’t a long one and there’s an easy flow of idle chatter as he finds a parking spot before leading you inside.

The place is on the smaller side, a family owned business that’s been there since before either of you were born. The owner recognizes the two of you and smiles kindly as she shows you to a table.

As you skim the menu, you’re rambling about a TV show you’re currently obsessing over but, as hard as he tries, only half of him is listening. The other half is fantasising about ripping that dress off your body and ravishing you the way you deserve.

He shakes his head. Jesus, where’d that come from? He’s got to get a hold of himself.

“I don’t know if you’d really be interested in it, but maybe—,” You stop talking and when he realises he’s been staring at your chest, he knows he’s been caught. He goes bright red when you smirk, “See something you like, pretty boy?”

Fucking hell, you’re going to be the death of him. He swallows hard and smiles nervously, “Yeah, I do.”

Your gaze slides down his neck and seems to land on the sliver of his collar bone that’s visible beneath the sweater vest he’s wearing, and you look like you’re just about ready to pounce on him. Under the table, you use your foot to nudge at his ankle before reaching for his hand and raising it to kiss his knuckles, maintaining eye contact as you do. For such a sweet gesture, it feels intimate with the way you’re gazing at him through your lashes, your lips warm against his skin in a way that makes him shift a little in his seat. When you pull away, you don’t let go of his hand, instead letting them settle between you as you scrunch your nose playfully and stage whisper, “Me too.”

He fucking giggles.

It’s that flustered, I-cannot-believe-this-person-thinks-I’m-attractive kind of giggle. When someone’s just hit on you and you just can’t help but laugh a little to calm your racing heart.

You grin at the sound and he clears his throat, cheeks a bright crimson, “Th–Thanks y– Thank you.”

He sighs with a simper, a little more than embarrassed as he hides his face in his free hand. You laugh and gently take his wrist to pull his hand away. When he dares to look back up at you, your eyes are filled with such fondness that it makes him want to scream.

“Don’t hide from me.” You coo, brushing your thumb over his wrist, “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

He doesn’t know what to say, so he thanks you again.

“‘Course.” You smile just as the waiter returns with your drinks.

You both order and chat while you wait. He starts rambling on about a classic film he went to see once, one that was in russian and was nearly four hours long. He gets halfway through explaining the plot when he realises this is usually where someone else would cut him off, so instead, he does it himself. You notice the abrupt silence and swallow a bite of your food before cocking your head to the side, “Why’d you stop?”

“Oh, well,” No one’s ever asked him that before. They normally ask him to stop. Not why he stopped, “I didn’t want to bore you.”

“You weren’t. I enjoy listening to you.” You say casually, waiting for him to continue.

It takes him a moment to register that you’re being genuine, but once he does, he beams as he continues his explanation. You listen with rapt attention. You even ask him questions! He finds himself smiling so much his cheeks start to hurt.

When he’s finished, he asks you about the show you’d been talking about earlier and you grin, speaking excitedly and animatedly about the plot and characters. You’re careful not to spoil anything, just in case he decides to watch it — which he decided he would the moment he saw how you lit up when he mentioned it.

By the time the two of you are finished with dinner, the sun has set and the time is nearing seven thirty. Nearly an hour and a half has passed and he hadn’t even noticed. He’s quick to offer to pay the bill when it comes, which starts a very small back and forth between the two of you when you also insist on paying. Eventually, you compromise and decide to split it.

He opens the door for you before walking out behind you. The air has chilled, and when a breeze blows by, you shiver.

He quickly shrugs off his coat and holds it out to you, “Here.”

“Oh, you don’t have to.” He shakes his head and smiles kindly at you.

“I want to.”

You smile back and utter a soft, “Thank you.

He holds it open and lets you slip your arms into it, watching the way you wrap it securely around yourself and practically burrow into it fondly. Before you start walking, he offers his arm to you, “Shall we?”

Giggling, you slip your arm through his, “We shall.”

You squeeze at his bicep affectionately as you walk and he places his free hand on the back of yours.

When you get to his car, he opens the door for you again before climbing in himself. On the drive to your apartment, he can’t help but glance at you out of the corner of his eye again.

“Just can’t stop staring, huh?” You smirk and he immediately brings his eyes back to the road.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smiles and you laugh.

“Uh-huh. Sure you don’t.” Carefully, you take one of his hands off the wheel and hold it in your lap, playing with his fingers. He knows the distraction is dangerous, but he really doesn’t care at this point. You’ve got his hand in your lap, so close to your thighs that he can feel the heat radiating off of your skin, “I like when you stare, you know.” “Yeah?” Is all he can manage in response as you spread his fingers and place his open palm over your inner thigh.

“Yeah.” You whisper, and when he glances at you again, you’ve got a hunger in your eyes that makes him let out a shaky breath. He takes a chance, sliding his hand up the bottom of your dress to squeeze at the soft flesh that resides further up your thigh. You sigh, leaning your head back against the headrest as you idly drag your fingertips up and down the length of his forearm. He thinks he might pass out.

As he reaches your apartment building, he squeezes you before placing his hand back on the wheel to turn into the underground. He finds your visitor spot and parks the car, getting out to open the door for you. When you get to the elevator and finally reach the door to your apartment, you turn and tentatively take his hand.

“Would you, um,” You glance down at your shoes shyly, “Would you like to,” His heart races when you look up at him through your lashes, “come inside?”

His breath stutters in his chest and it takes him a moment to come back down to earth. Unfortunately, you take this as a rejection, pulling your hand away and smiling at him apologetically, “Sorry, you don’t have to, obviously. I just thought…Well, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I’ll–.”

He doesn’t let you go any further, stepping into your space and pressing his lips to yours. He’s not about to let another misunderstanding pull you away from him. When he pulls back, he cups your cheek and strokes a line with his thumb from the corner of your eye, to your temple, and back, “I’d love to.”

You smile, quickly opening the door to your apartment and pulling him through. Shrugging off his jacket, you hang it up on your coat rack as he slips off his shoes. You struggle to get your heels off, so he kneels to undo to clasp and slip them off for you.

“Such a gentleman.” You hum as he stands back up after placing your shoes under your coats, threading your fingers in the hairs closest to his ears. His hands gravitate to your waist as you press yourself against him, leaning up to peck his lips, his jaw, before opening your mouth to roll your tongue against the sensitive skin of his pulse point, drawing a deep, shuddering sigh from his lungs. Your teeth scrape against his jaw and he can hear your breath fanning hot against his neck. He swears under his breath and you chuckle, pulling away only to take his wrists and guide him down the hall towards your bedroom.

Before you have a chance to sit, he hooks his arm around you and pulls you back to him. He captures your lips again and slides his hand up your thighs and your dress to grasp at your waist, relishing in the way your skin feels under his hands. He only breaks the kiss to ask, “Can I take this off?”

“You can take off as much as you want, handsome.” You pant and he grins, slipping your dress off before taking a moment to unabashedly ogle you.

“You are…” There are so many things he could say. Beautiful. Gorgeous. Ethereal. None of them would do you justice, “Wow.”

You giggle, and he finds himself mesmerised by the way your shoulders shake and your stomach contracts with the motion, “I’ve never known you as a man of few words, Doctor Reid.”

“I guess you just have that effect on me.” He smiles as you move to fiddle with his belt, swiftly pulling his pants down his legs and letting him lean on you a little as he steps out of them. You make quick work of his sweater vest and button down after that, leaving him standing there in his boxers, nearly bare to you. He gets a little anxious when you don’t say anything at first, but when he takes the time to actually look at the way you’re staring at him, he realises you’re just as in awe of him as he is of you.

Taking you in his arms again, he walks you backwards until the backs of your knees hit the bed, letting you shimmy up the mattress until your head rests comfortably on your pillows. You open your arms to him, parting your thighs to let him slot himself snuggly in between. Gripping your hips, he spreads his knees and — with a strength that surprises both of you — tugs you towards him so that your heat is flush with his bulge. You gasp at the sudden manhandling, but don’t seem upset. In fact, if he had to describe it, you look like you want to eat him.

He bends at the waist, sliding his hands down the backs of your thighs and holding them against his sides as he leans down to kiss you again. One hand finds his back while the other finds his hair, tugging and earning a groan in response. He’d be content to sit there and kiss you for hours, but as you grind against him, sighing into his mouth, it’s clear you’re eager to have more of him.

Letting go of your thighs, he carefully wedges his fingers between you and the mattress to guide your back into a high enough arch that he can unclasp your bra. It takes him a couple tries, throughout which you kiss at his jaw in a lovely — but also rather unhelpful — way, but he gets it and slips it off, tossing it off to some unknown corner of the room. His hands stay safely on your sides for a moment as he glances up at you, waiting until you nod before he palms at your breast, leaning down to suck a few hickeys into the skin of your neck as he rolls your nipple between his fingers. You half sigh, half moan next to his ear and he rolls his hips into yours involuntarily, making you wrap your legs around his lower back to keep him where he is.

“‘M not goin’ anywhere, lovely.” He mumbles against your skin, rolling his hips again as you grind down to meet him.

He shifts his attention lower for a moment, marking up your chest a little before pulling away, sitting back on his heels to admire his work. Dragging his fingertips over the freshly made hickeys and down the valley of your breasts, he can feel your heart beating hard and fast against your ribs. A little lower and he splays his palm over the soft flesh of your stomach. He can feel your heart there, too. He lowers his head to mouth at your sternum, and the vibrations reverberate against his lips and tongue in a steady lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

He kisses and sucks a trail down your stomach, stopping a moment to nip at the swell of your abdomen before kissing at your skin apologetically when you gasp and tug on his hair. Hooking his fingers under your panties, he slips them off before biting at the meat of your inner thighs, soothing the area with his tongue before repeating the process a little further up.

“Spence,” You pant, and he hums, looking up at you from his place between your thighs, “Please.”

“Please what?” He asks cheekily, chuckling when you huff at him in frustration.

“Touch me.” You sigh, and he feels a little lightheaded, “Please.”

He dips his tongue into the well of slick at your entrance before dragging his tongue up to swirl around your clit. You choke on his name, arching your back and tugging on his hair. He lays there, eating at you like a man starved, sucking and rolling his tongue against you in a way that has you bucking your hips so much that he has to hook an arm around your thighs to hold them down. Slowly, he slips two fingers into you, earning a hissed, “Fuck” that has him rutting into the mattress. He curls his fingers and you use his hair as leverage to pull him closer.

His name sounds like music on your lips, lyrics strung together by breathy swears and blending into a chorus of moans. He finds when he flicks his tongue and curls his fingers a certain way, he can get you to whine all breathy and high pitched. He finds your body is his instrument. Your voice, his muse.

He feels you clench around his fingers, thighs trembling and breath speeding up as you get closer, and closer, before tipping over the edge with a loud, “Oh, shit!”

He lets go of your hips and slows his pace a little to let you use him to ride out your high, only stopping when you go lax beneath him and tug him away by his hair. He takes a moment to wipe his lips with the back of his hand before you pull him up your body to kiss him slow and sweet. Your hand travels to fiddle with the hem of his boxers, and he takes your wrist, looking at you rather seriously.

“Are you sure?” He asks, searching your eyes for any sort of hesitation and finding none.

You nod and peck his lips once before locking eyes with him, “Positive.”

“Okay.” He kisses you once more before sliding his boxers down his legs. As he gets them off his ankles and makes it back onto his knees, you lean over to your side table and quickly pull out a condom, opening it and passing it to him. He’s quick to roll it on before diving back into you, guiding you to lay back against your pillows. He kisses you once, twice, before dropping his forehead to your shoulder as he aligns himself with you. He pushes in slowly, bracing himself on his elbow and he lets out a wrecked moan next to your ear. When he bottoms out, he gives you a moment to adjust, waiting until you’re ready.

You roll your hips with a whiny little, “Spence.” and he sees stars. He goes slow, tries to be gentle, grinding his hips into yours and splitting you open slowly. His head is filled with the scent of you, the sound of you, the feel of you. When he said he wanted to drown in you, he meant it. He isn’t a religious man by any means, but if it meant worshipping at your feet and allowing him the privilege of being yours, he’d abandon his principles and repent in an instant.

“Harder.” You beg, and he bends to your will, setting a near back breaking pace.

He keeps the grinding motion, but the force at which his hips hit yours have you digging your nails into his back and throwing your head back. His mouth finds the side of your larynx, tongue laving over the area before he latches his lips to your skin and sucks another bruise into it.

The room is filled with your sinful noises, moans and the sound of skin on skin as his hips snap against yours so hard that he worries for a moment that you might bruise.

That thought is gone as quick as it comes when you moan out, “Fuck, just like that.”

That familiar coil winds up in his abdomen and warmth spreads from his thighs to his toes. You flutter around him, and he knows that you’re getting close too. His fingers find your clit, rubbing tight circles over the little bundle of nerves until your legs tremble and his name falls from your lips like a prayer, cunt spasming around him until he’s reaching his high too. He whimpers as he spills into the condom, body going rigid before he lets his upper body rest fully on you.

There’s a moment where he just sits there, sweaty torso flush with yours as he presses his ear against your chest to listen to your heart slow. You run your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp as you let him place a few sweet kisses to the curve of your breast.

“You wanna stay the night?” You ask softly and he nods.

He sits up to pull the condom off, tying it up and tossing it into the bin beside your bed before noticing the blissed out haze you’re in, “You want to have a shower?”

“Mm-mm.” You hum, holding your arms out to him.

“Okay.” He whispers as he flops onto the mattress beside you, pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips to your hairline. You sigh, nuzzling your nose against the divot where his collar bones meet. It isn’t long before your breaths even out and he isn’t far behind, the sound of your breathing coaxing him into a haze. The last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep is where he’s taking you on your next few dates.

———————————————————————

Taglist:

@fandomscombine @ivyflowers13 @nataratacat

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

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dimepdf · 2 years

Note

pleaseee i think we all deserve a joseph quinn “wired interview” fic :))

WIRED INTERVIEW. + JOSEPH QUINN

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? [ ❥ ] synopsis. one of Joseph's first interviews following the premiere of the new season and his public disclosure of his relationship. author's note. tis my birthday!

[ ❥ ] pairing. joseph quinn x reader

[ ❥ ] word count. 1.5k

[ ❥ ] genre and warnings. Fluff, actor!reader, black coded, based this from Kim and Pete’s relationship, Joseph being smitten, literally just fluff series masterlist.

Y/N L/N & joseph quinn Answer the Web's Most Searched Questions | WIRED

The interview starts off pretty tame. The couple that sat in the white room in front of the camera beamed with perfect happy smiles.

Joseph could not help but to touch Y/n in any way that he could.

Many of the fans suspect that his love language might have been touch from the complications and tiktoks of the male always reaching to hug/grab/hold the woman.

Joe wasn’t shy about his smitten state over Y/n that festered throughout the young years of the actors knowing each other. I

f there's one thing that the internet has been talking about since the opening week of Stranger Things releasing their new anticipated season, it's the new couple on set: Y/n L/N and Joseph Quinn’s rumored relationship.

After the pair met in the following year for the production of season four of Stranger Things, they've been spotted together a number of times, including the very adorable trending clips of them trending of the pair being more than friendly, begging the question from their fans: are they an item?

Just weeks after the release of the new season, Joseph and Y/n were spotted holding hands during an outing in NYC on what seemed to be a double date with their co-stars Natalia Dyer and Charlie Heaton at a pricey restaurant in the city.

Photos of the pair caused fans to speculate that maybe it just wasn't their characters that had a connection as well, though a source told People at the time, "Since we’re like one big close-knit circle of friends just being friends, it might come off that way to other people."

Following the many sightings, Joseph and Y/n were reported to have gone on a more private dinner date at another iconic Italian eatery, Campania's, in New York's Staten Island.

A source told Page Six, "Y/n arranged a dinner on the rooftop privately," adding that they didn't bring security with them and "quietly were able to sneak in and out."

A report from E! at the time also revealed why Joseph apparently likes Y/n, saying, "Y/n is a very down-to-earth person, who seems very grounded and humble every time that they hang out."

People reported that Joseph and Y/n were seen mingling a lot together during the after party of the Stranger Things watch party. Sources show proof of the pair together in almost every video that was posted from the small party that was attended mostly by the cast and production along with friends.

A source told People at the time that the couple was "always together." It was a "big night for them," another source told E! News. "But it seemed like they were in their own universe." The source also said the two didn’t want to be perceived as a couple in public. "They were careful not to show too much PDA with so many eyes around."

With the entirety of the entire internet (including Dojacat) wondering what was going on between the pair, Joseph decided to settle things earlier this week, during his current appearance at Comic Con, where a fan asked the long awaited question about the situation.

"I think everyone just wants to know—me mostly because, hello, you’re both so fine—but is it really just a rumor or are you and Y/N really an item?" The fan asked as the audience voiced their approval of the question. "Or is it all just, like, really good PR? You have to be honest."

Joseph couldn't seem to contain his blushful glance as he playfully fauxed an eye roll, dramatically leaning back from his chair as the crowd seemed to get louder with anticipation of his answer before responding: "I'm more offended honestly that you guys think it was all just a PR stunt."

Understandably, the crowd completely lost it for a moment before Joseph finally said, "I mean, we made out that one time in public and the next day she was just scrolling through twitter and all the replies were just like "guys, they're just besties, calm the hell down" and I’ve never been more concerned because we weren't even trying to hide it, it was more just waiting until everyone caught on."

Over on social media, the fans could not contain their excitement over the topic of conversation. "Love a black woman to infinity to infinity!!" said one twitter user with the clip of the reveal, with another adding, "I know I'm biting her fucking pillow and peeling back her fucking wig because of this one lmaooo."

Joseph and Y/n just keep getting cuter and cuter since their relationship became public. Finally, the actors share their first ever pictures together as a couple.

Y/n posted to her instagram page a grid of pictures that left fans in a frenzy. The spam of posts featuring Joseph and her wrapped in each other's embrace during the start of the new season's long production revealed to fans the long timeline of their relationship.

The pictures in question are captioned: "I'm sorry that you seemed to be confused…" Many suspect that the caption was to shade Doja Cat, the artist getting into quite a situation with Y/n’s younger costar Noah Schnapp, after taking to Instagram Live to publicly post their Instagram direct message conversation in a since-deleted TikTok.

In the exchange, the rapper asked the actor to help set her up with his co-star Joseph Quinn, which Y/n/L/n seemed to not take much interest in.

Click to view video

“Okay well you have to say it,” Y/n gestured with her ombre french tip nails, adjusting her brown wrap halter top from the hem that snug onto her brown skin just perfectly. Joseph gave a sort of side glance to the woman as his eyebrows creased.

“Cause’ It’ll sound better coming from you.” The whine in Y/ns voice was clear, not it an annoyed way just in the way of being playful when behind the camera a slight hesitation in leaning into his immediate touch.

“Honey, I think you sound just fine.” He reached to squeeze the plush on the woman's thigh, the high of her olive green mini skirt that covered only her middle thigh.

“Oh fuck off—hello, im Y/n L/n and this is,” the pair giggled at the drastic and dramatic mood switch that conterted Y/n features, the woman raising her hand to cover her smile subconsiously as she laughed brightly.

“Joseph Quinn.” Joseph answered with his voice peaking into a more gentle softer tone because of the laughter.

“And today we’re doing the wired autocomplete interview!”

Autocomplete suggests the most common searches on the internet.

So WIRED asked Joseph and Y/n L/n some of the internet’s burning questions.

The video cuts to Joseph sitting with his legs folded, the white board littered with questions perched on to the start of his knee joint, which formed a bend.

Setting the board at an angle so it was sort of presented to Y/n as she sat a little off to the side, the questions all started with her name as she slouched into a more comfortable sitting posture to subconsciously lean more into Joseph as the interview continued.

"How old was Y/n in the Bruno Mars video?" the first question shot off as Joseph peeled the paper away, revealing the answer as he flipped the strip from his bed of his thumb.

His dark brown eyes glistened under the studio light as he glanced at the woman with a content smile, watching the start of a smile creep onto her glossed lips, Y/n glancing up at the ceiling in thought. "I was like, 21ish when I recorded the song."

"Can I just say how cool it is that you’ve casually been just a song for such an amazing artist?" Joseph interpreted as Y/n giggled at the compliment, her shoulders bouncing with her laughter as he added. "Like how many people can just casually say, "Oh yeah, I was in a Bruno Mars and Anderson Paak music video?" That's insane to me."

"Does Y/n…play the drums?" the question making Joseph's lips pout out as he menetally recalled the many times he would beg you to play the drums for him after seeing the dedication you put into learning the instrument for the show, your character being the outcast with big round glasses but a killer drumming skill, your average height being just below Sadie Sinks, giving you an advantage to be in the younger iconic cast, being an award-winning favorite when introduced in the second season.

"Uh, yes? Kind of, not as much as outside of the show, but I still had to learn a lot for the show." She was fidgeting with the underside of her nails. "It's sort of annoying sometimes though, because I really love having a decent nail length and I remember having a really cute nail set during production and the stylist was just like, "yeah, rip those off for me." I’ve never been more pissed."

"Who is Y/n L/n dating?" The question led the couple to smile at each other, Y/n leaving a gestured thumb to her boyfriend of almost 3 years.

[ ❥ ] taglist. @prettyeyedmaureen @torynicholsgf @bucky-daddy-barnes @eldriidd @ycarlii @guitarromantic @sh3lov3dyou @lafresamilk @loveshineslikethesky @haechaniebom @hello-1000 @vxid42 @biggestslutever @spenglerslime @eddiesbitchx @slvdsjjk @stitched-mouth @misaamaneswifey @kiszkathecook @imahoforthings @kyyellaxi @eichenhouseproperty @hotgirlsshareaccounts @ran-rap

@lloromanic-png @avasjunkpile @punkrockcrocks @first-edition-dumpster-fire @batmetallady @woahhhfidget @ireadstoriesnotmakethem @notsoshynomore @the-night-owl-blr @1efleur @todoroki-slut @mjauqeen @scarlet-kazuha @lattayhottay16 @astralwaifu @prettyplant0 @imliterallygonnagetviolent @strangerthanfanfiction713 @graktung @sughcashsaiki @fzzybrain @caseket @spiritualwhore444 @xoxo-dede @sapppy-cocktail @joyrubyjanee

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rosepascal · 1 year

Text

Superficial Shit || Eddie Munson x Reader

summary: Eddie doesn't care about Valentines day but you do.

warnings: Eddies a bit clueless, miscommunication, angst to fluff.

a/n: low key this is based off a shitty ex except this ends much happier lmaoo. Anyways Happy Valentines Day!! I hope you have a great day and remember you deserve only the best!

Eddie, oh Eddie. You knew from the start that he didn't exactly believe in traditional things. He didn't fit in so why would he ever want to. But Valentines day was approaching fast and you had hoped that maybe he'd wanted to do something.

Nothing fancy, maybe a movie or dinner or even just a drive around Hawkins. You didn't want to admit it to him but this was your first Valentines where you actually had a Valentine and you wanted it to be special.

But when you walked into lunch your hopes were shattered. The cafeteria was decorated in pink and red and all of Hellfire seemed to be annoyed by it.

"Yet another stupid holiday that's only existence is to get innocent suckers into buying cheap flowers and chocolate." You hear Eddie say as he stands up, preaching to Hellfire.

Your face falls as you hear the rest of them laugh with him. Except Dustin who just rolled his eyes. He sent Suzie a bouquet of flowers and a new radio with your help. At least someone had an ounce of romance in them this time.

"Hey sweetheart," Eddie lights up when he sees you. Pulling out the chair next to him you sit down and he slings his arm around you. He presses a kiss to your temple and you smile even if you're feeling sad.

"Doesn't all the pink make you sick?" Eddie scrunches up his nose.

"Not really," You say simply, not wanting to show how disappointed you really were. Unfortunately he notices right away that somethings wrong.

"What's wrong?" You huff and stab your lunch with your fork. What's wrong? Really Eddie?

"Nothing."

"Don't tell me you're into all this superficial shit." You hear the rest of the table suck in a breath. You scoff and push his hand off your shoulder.

"Maybe I am." You stand up, your plastic chair scraping against the floor. Eddie falters as you shove your lunch into the trash and hurry out the cafeteria doors.

"You messed up man." Dustin says and Eddie glares at him.

"Thanks Henderson." He says flatly.

You don't care that you have one more class today you were too upset to go. Why would "conforming" be so bad for one day? Especially on the day where you're supposed to be expressing your love to someone else.

"Sweetheart!" You hear Eddie call your name but you keep walking.

"Hey! Please don't walk away from me!" With a frustrated sigh you turn and face him. He almost trips as he tries to stop.

"Baby, I'm sorry I-I didn't know you were interested in all that."

"Is it that bad Eddie? Maybe I want to be some innocent sucker for one day. Maybe I wanted flowers and chocolate and to go on a cheesy date with my boyfriend!" Eddie's face falls as he can see just how upset he made you.

"It's my first Valentines with someone and it's, I don't know." The outburst felt good but now all you wanted was to just go home and sleep.

"W-We can still do something, I uh, I can get us a reservation and we can go to that fancy Italian place." Eddie panics as he tries to salvage the whole situation. Guilt flooding his brain, you just look so, sad and it's his fault.

"It's fine Eddie." You play with the strap of your backpack, avoiding looking at him by staring at the ground.

"I'll see you on Monday." You turn and walk away, hoping that Eddie doesn't follow this time.

He didn't.

You woke up on Valentines day filled with dread. At least it wasn't a school day. You spent the day in your room doing homework and listening to the radio. Your parents had gone for the weekend for Valentines, so you're really all alone today. A knock on your window makes you jump.

"Eddie?" You ask, confused why he's at your window. Opening the window he tumbles in and jumps back up to his feet.

"What are you doing here?" He holds out a small red rose and a chocolate bar.

"I need to apologize. Also I'm sorry but this is all they had at the store. Turns out trying to buy shit last minute is not a good idea." You take the rose and the chocolate and sit on your bed.

"It's okay Eds."

"No it's not." He sighs and rubs his hands together nervously.

"I'm really, really sorry sweetheart. I've never understood Valentines day." He begins to pace across your floor.

" Why celebrate a holiday that makes people feel bad when they don't get anything or have to spend it alone you know? So I got used to not caring about it and then I met you and jesus I love you so much and I've never had a girlfriend before and I just." He takes a breath and kneels down to take your hands in his.

"I don't need a day to tell the world I'm in love with you." Your heart melts and you lean in and kiss him.

"I'm sorry I ruined Valentines day. I should have talked to you about it because you deserve more than a flower and a candy bar."

"I don't need a fancy dinner or an expensive gift. I just want you Eds." You gently caress his face and he leans into your hand.

"I love you." He gently pushes you back onto your bed and kisses you passionately. Moving his lips down to kiss along your jaw and neck.

"Valentines isn't over yet you know..So how about a movie and I make you my famous Munson popcorn." Eddie wiggles his eyebrows making you burst out laughing.

"Eddie, putting M&M's into your popcorn isn't special." You tease and he gasps dramatically.

"Ouch sweetheart," He takes your hand and leads you down the stairs. Stopping only to kiss you again and again and one more time for good measure.

"I love you." He says lovingly. "I love you too Eddie, now how about we watch Pretty in Pink again!" Eddie grimaces but caves easily.

"Anything for you sweetheart. Anything."

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine

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ihavemanyhusbands · 5 months

Text

I Found My Love in Portofino

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

Also on AO3

Summary: Despite your promise to stay away, the lure of Portofino -- and who you might find there -- is too irresistible. Part 2 to The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

WC: 5.3k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, semi-public sex, mentions of violence, play fighting, breaking shit all over the place, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), angst (but there’s a happy ending dw), I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

------

Sunshine, a gorgeous view, and the fragrant smell of the sea. What more could you possibly need?

Some dignity, perhaps.

But maybe you’d lost all of it on the other side of the world almost a year ago, buried under many layers of snow. Along with one too many promises you weren’t certain you could keep.

Then again, you’d desperately wanted a vacation somewhere warm, hadn’t you? And Portofino was beautiful that time of year, undeniably so. It was nearly impossible to resist its allure.

All you had to do was keep to yourself and not let your eyes wander in search of a familiar silhouette. Eat some amazing food, drink some great wine, and maybe brush up on your Italian. Nothing else. How hard could it be, really?

A few days had already passed with no issues, but at all times, there was the slightest prickle of awareness at the back of your neck. But still, you didn’t search.

At least you were slowly building a nice tan, which was long overdue. You’d spent most of your days at the beach, alternating between dips in the ocean and sprawling out on a towel to air dry. It was as close as you’d gotten to true peace in a long time.

Sometimes, when the waves rolled over you, they felt like a lover’s embrace. Powerful and all-consuming, right on the verge of being agonizing. The familiarity of this feeling and these sudden romantic notions were irritating, but you were always a creature of incandescent want. A fatal flaw, most likely.

When the sun began to set, hunger was the only thing that could pull you away. You’d found a place that you liked, which was perhaps a little too pricey, but the view was unbeatable and the food was definitely worth coming back for. On top of that, you felt like you deserved to spoil yourself at least a little bit.

You sat at your usual table, a salty breeze tussling your hair. A passing waiter smiled and nodded at you, already knowing your order. You smiled back, pushing your sunglasses atop your head.

The world was awash in golden light, the waves glittering like a dream in which swimmers basked. For a moment, as you stared off into the middle distance, your mind was blissfully blank. Not a worry to ruin things.

But then suddenly…

“Your champagne, signorina,” a voice said as an empty flute was set on the table. “And may I just add… you look ravishing when you are so relaxed. It really does suit you.”

You whipped around immediately, eyes widening and heart thumping like a war drum.

“You!” You hissed through clenched teeth, gripping your dinner knife.

Duncan, disguised as a waiter, smiled at you impishly as he poured the champagne. He was the picture of calm, unbothered by the real threat of another stab from you.

“I know you must’ve missed me terribly, but let’s not make a scene now,” he said easily. “I suppose your busy schedule had an opening after all?”

“I happen to like Italy, if you have to know,” you huffed, grabbing the flute and taking a sip. “I told you I wasn’t going to look for you, and I didn’t. You found me.”

“You made it rather easy, but I let you have a few days.”

You gestured at his attire. “And this is how you chose to approach. Real sneaky of you.”

His grin only broadened. “What can I say? I wanted to serve you.”

Annoyance flared to life inside of you, but it was paired with a familiar feeling that made you tightly cross your legs. You pursed your lips for a moment, but you didn’t really want to give him the satisfaction of seeing he was getting to you.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair with an equally sly grin and said, “So do it, then. You can only keep me waiting for so long…”

He nodded once, straightening up. “Right away. I’ll be back in a moment.”

As he walked away, your body relaxed and you let out a long exhale. Running a hand down your face in frustration, you chastised yourself again for not steeling your will more in the time you were apart. You glanced over your shoulder to make sure he wasn’t watching you and slumped in your chair.

A few restless minutes passed as you waited, but still he didn’t return. You drummed your fingers on the table as your impatience grew into frustration. Then you figured, this was probably his plan, right? To try and get under your skin as much as possible, make up for lost time. It definitely seemed to be his favorite activity. Or one of them, at least.

Fuck it. Who said you couldn’t retaliate just a little bit?

You downed the champagne in one go, perhaps for courage, perhaps just because you needed a reason to justify your recklessness. Standing, you made your way inside under the pretense of going to the restroom. You hadn’t really planned what you were going to do, but still you wandered by the kitchen.

From what you could see, he wasn’t there, which made you frown in confusion. It wasn’t a big establishment, so there weren’t many places where he could be. Half-dejected, you walked into the single-stall bathroom… and immediately the door slammed shut behind you, lock clicking into place.

Before you could process anything, strong arms enveloped you, pulling you against a solid chest. Duncan put a finger to his lips in a motion for silence, right before he threw himself on you, claiming your mouth. You practically melted against him, any sort of animosity you held forgotten for a moment.

But then, when the shock passed, you kissed him back roughly. You tugged at his hair and bit his bottom lip, letting him retaliate by pressing you against the wall, as if punishing both him and yourself for caving so easily to your desires.

“Already breaking promises, huh?” he said between kisses, chuckling as your hands briskly tried to undo his pants.

“Shut up,” you grumbled. “Or I’m gonna put your mouth to better use this time.”

“That reminds me…”

Abruptly, he gathered you in his arms and set you on the edge of the sink. He kneeled in front of you, reaching past the edge of your sundress and tugging loose the strings of your bikini bottom.

“I did say I would serve you,” he grinned, scooting closer and placing your legs on his shoulders. “Let’s see if you’ll be able to keep quiet now.”

You couldn’t keep your chest from heaving as he fully removed the fabric, tossing it to one side. He kissed his way up your inner thigh, his scruff lightly tickling the sensitive flesh. You suppressed a small shudder, readjusting your position.

As his tongue dipped directly into the source of your ache — the best way to properly savor you — you held onto his head with one hand and gripped the edge of the sink with the other. He groaned, breath hot against you, and trailed his tongue up to your clit.

He guided himself by your reactions — the small spasms of your muscles, your hitching breaths and the subtle hums of your concealed moans. He barely came up for air, content with the possibility of asphyxiation if it meant he’d never get the taste of you out of his mouth.

The precise, relentless way in which he pleased you nearly drove you to madness. His tongue circled around your clit slowly, almost teasingly, but whenever you were about to voice his frustration, he did the complete opposite to keep you on the edge. You looked down and met his gaze for a moment, fire burning in his eyes. The intensity of it made your pussy clench around his fingers, which he’d just added into the mix.

Your back arched, head resting against the mirror behind you. Your eyes were closed in bliss, knees drawing together around his head as you felt the beginning of an orgasm forming.

“Yes…” you sighed. “Yes! Right there!”

And that was all he needed to hear to ramp up the intensity further. Your body trembled, sweat-slick hand almost slipping off the porcelain. Your spine arched further, as if possessed, and a ragged moan escaped you as you came undone. Pleasure felt electric as it swept over you, and he moaned along with you as he helped you ride it out all the way.

As you were left panting heavily, limbs still shaky, he pulled back to look at you and licked his lips. You brought your legs off his shoulders and he stood in order to undo his pants, the hard imprint of his cock straining against the fabric almost painfully. Once it was free, he spat in his hand and stroked himself to spread the saliva.

“Get inside me,” you pleaded quietly, urging him closer, eyes still shiny with want. “Please, fuck, I need you inside me.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist this time and he guided himself into you slowly. He muttered your name under his breath as he bottomed out, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss the way he seemed to fully envelop you. The heat emanating from him, his smell flooding your nostrils, and even the stretch of him inside you was divine… But you weren’t able to dwell on these thoughts as he began to move.

His large hands held you up by your hips as he pounded into you, no longer holding back. It seemed he had missed you just as much, and all he could do was make up for lost time.

He leaned down once more to kiss you as it became harder for you to contain your noises. More of your weight, combined with his, was leaning on the sink by then. As he hit that spot inside you that made your body jerk, you heard a crack.

You tried to ignore it for a moment as his movements turned erratic, grip tightening on your skin. He grunted with each thrust, snapping his hips roughly as you clawed at his shoulders.

Then his whole body tensed, and he pressed all the way into you in one final thrust. The sound that left him was nearly animalistic as he spilled his release inside of you… and it was at that moment that the sink gave out completely.

The porcelain loudly shattered against the linoleum floor as it broke off the wall. The newly exposed pipe gushed water, the puddle quickly spreading. Duncan caught you in his arms before you could fall as well, stumbling a little as he adjusted his position.

“Shit, that was my bad…” he panted. “I got a little carried away.”

The two of you dissolved into a fit of nervous laughter as the reality of the situation really settled in. Reflexively, you had wrapped your arms around his neck, your faces close together.

You could feel his pulse was just as hurried as yours, both of you still coming down from your highs. You avoided prolonged eye contact as you drew away with an amused grin, smacking his arm.

“Real smooth, breaking shit on your first day on the job,” you said.

He started to laugh, but suddenly, there was loud knocking on the door. A voice called in Italian to ask if everything was okay, the doorknob jiggling to no avail. You and Duncan looked at each other in a millisecond of panic before hastily starting to re-dress.

“Fuck, we have to get out of here,” you hissed as he helped you onto your feet, holding you for a moment as your legs wobbled. “Can’t we have a reunion where we don’t wreak havoc for once?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head as he buttoned up his pants. “I don’t think it’s possible.”

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, intent on assessing your options. The banging at the door didn’t stop, and you figured soon enough they’d get a key to open it. There was a window that seemed large enough for you to fit through, but you weren’t sure Duncan’s large frame would make the cut.

“One moment please! Everything’s fine!” You yelled back before turning to Duncan and lowering your voice. “I just realized I forgot my stuff out there.”

“I’ll go get it,” he said, ushering you towards the window and handing you your bikini bottoms. “I’ll meet you outside.”

You nodded, appreciative and just slightly flustered at the idea of having to sneak out commando while you were still holding in his… Well, that was probably the least of your worries at that very moment. One thing at a time.

“Try to leave them some money, too. We’ve done enough damage.”

He snorted. “Just wait ‘til we get to the hotel.”

You bit back your retort and instead focused on climbing out of the window without leaving a snail trail. Glancing around to make sure you were alone, you made your way to the front of the restaurant surreptitiously. Twice you had to stop and hide as you neared passerby, still jittery with adrenaline.

It was a thrill that felt both agonizing and yet somehow very arousing. You waited in a side alley, clamping your thighs together as you leaned against the wall. You just hoped Duncan wouldn’t get himself in deeper shit and take more drastic measures. He wasn’t charming enough to get out of trouble with just words, as you were well aware.

Finally, he emerged from the restaurant after what seemed like forever, dressed in casual clothes. You lifted your arm so he could see where you were, and he hurried over.

“How did you—” you began to ask, but you were interrupted by him clasping your wrist and dragging you away.

“Don’t ask,” he said. “But just so you know, I did get a couple of high-fives on my way out.”

—————————-

As it turned out, Duncan had been staying at the hotel next to yours. You had to stop to get his luggage first since he’d checked out of his room that morning, already having assumed he’d be staying with you.

You’d raised your eyebrows and scoffed at his overconfidence. Of course, you should’ve expected something like that to happen, but you’d been too caught up on whether you’d actually run into him or not.

The casualness between you felt strange, particularly given your history. He was definitely more at ease than he’d been a year ago, but uneasiness was like second nature to you. Sure, you were enjoying this new dynamic with him so far, but you weren’t sure how far was too far.

Fucking was one thing, but being on vacation together… You shook your spiraling thoughts out of your head as you led him through your hotel and up to your room. One thing at a time.

“And what would you have done if I decided not to give you the time of day?” You asked as you swiped the keycard to your room. “Sleep on a bench somewhere?”

“Oh please, haven’t I proven to be irresistible?” He said, tilting his head to the side as he smiled slyly.

“Yeah, well, I’m not covering the hotel costs for both of us, just so you know.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he wasn’t actually offended. “I can pay you with my body, that should be more than enough.”

You bit down an amused grin and said nothing, instead turning on the lights and showing him where he could put his stuff. He set it all down without real care as you began undressing, making him freeze on the spot.

But you weren’t trying to seduce him, at least not then, for there was only one thing on your mind. Your skin felt sticky with sea salt and sweat, your hair was all tangled by the wind, and there was still that little problem between your legs to take care of.

“Care to rinse off, then? I know I need to,” you said, casually stepping into the bathroom. “Shower’s got room for two.”

You got in before hearing his response, starting by washing your hair under the stream of hot water. As you were rinsing off the shampoo, eyes closed, you heard him get in. Your other senses were all too aware of his nearness, making you jump a little at an unexpected touch on your hand.

When you were able to open your eyes again, you saw he was washing himself. The way the soap suds slid down his muscles made you swallow hard, and he was smiling deviously when you moved to let him rinse off. He sighed with contentment at the water’s warmth, slicking his hair back, and you couldn’t help but keep ogling him.

Maybe he wasn’t so wrong about being irresistible… He really was beautiful.

When he turned around, you quickly averted your gaze and reached for the bar of soap, but he shook his head. “Allow me.”

He lathered some soap between his hands, taking it upon himself to wash your body. He kept eye contact as he started with your shoulders and arms, moving slowly but purposefully. Your limbs were loose as you let him keep going, adjusting you this way and that so he didn’t miss a spot.

Even as he reached more sensitive areas, his touch was tender rather than lascivious. Looking at the scars on each other was like a trip down memory lane, but it wasn’t a bitter remembrance. In fact, you felt yourself softening, almost vulnerable. So much stubbornness, so much time wasted, but it all had somehow led to such an intimate moment.

When he was done, you rewarded him with a soft kiss, more chaste than anything you’d had so far. You shut off the water and both of you got out to dry off quietly. It felt like talking might burst the bubble of… whatever feeling the two of you were so precariously sharing at that moment.

An idea struck you then, and you discarded your towel somewhere along the way. He watched as you opened the sliding doors to the private balcony, the faint light silhouetting you.

Up there, the faint roar of the ocean could still be heard. It was moonlight’s turn to glitter in the dark waves, but you put your back to the view as you gave him an inviting look.

Truth be told, you wanted to indulge in him as much as you could. A sense of urgency accompanied your arousal, like the opportunity might not come around again. Was it a sign? Could it be fate’s way of making you say goodbye?

The thought scared you more than you were willing to admit, so you decided to be mindless once again. You let the sea breeze envelop you once again, but soon after his arms took place, drawing you into his warmth. He searched your face for something, but you averted your gaze as you ran your hands up and down his chest.

“You’re quiet,” he noted. “You haven’t even threatened to kill me at least once since we got here.”

You shrugged, going on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck. “Does it matter?”

“Well, you know the violence is what gets me going…” he said with a smirk, but you could still see some concern in his eyes.

You kissed his bottom lip enticingly, returning the smirk. “Let’s tear each other apart, then. For good this time.”

And so he cupped the back of your head and crushed his lips against yours. The kiss was sloppy and desperate, tongues dragging against each other. You reached between your bodies to touch him, fingers grazing the velvety underside of his hardening cock.

For a moment he lost himself to your touch, mindlessly chasing your lips as you withdrew, teasing him. You stroked the head with the tips of your fingers, and his hips bucked in search of more friction.

“Not gonna be so easy now,” you chastised playfully. “Gotta earn your stay.”

He gripped your hair, pulling your head back to expose your neck. His free hand roamed up your chest, splaying over your sternum and feeling your quickening heartbeat. He bent down to kiss your neck and collarbones, humming in fiendish delight as he heard your soft moan.

“You little devil,” he murmured. “You should know I won’t make it easy for you either.”

And so commenced a battle for dominance, in which the two of you did not play fair. You practically tackled him back onto the sunbed, frantically trying to pin his arms down. Your thighs pressed against his sides tightly, holding him in place.

He had a great view of you from that angle, so he got easily distracted, his struggles weakening. But just when you thought you had him, he suddenly grabbed your wrists and managed to flip you under him. You blinked up at him in momentary surprise, but then scoffed.

Your legs and arms wrapped around him as you tried to crush him in a bear hug. You felt his erection pressed against your abdomen, and he grunted with the effort of trying to wriggle from your grasp.

Despite the exertion from wrestling each other, you found yourself smiling, genuinely having a good time. Your cheeks were flushed and you were panting heavily. He kissed all over your face, perhaps in an attempt to distract you, but you gave in amiably for the time being.

“Where’s your knife now?” He murmured against your skin, taunting, his breath close to your ear.

But instead of responding, you pulled his head back by the hair and brought your lips to his. Your other hand rested on his throat, like a silent threat, but it was just a little too tender to actually be one.

The stars wheeled across the sky unnoticed, as the two of you were too wrapped up in a frenzy of desire, all restraints loosened. Eager hands and eager mouths, the violent delicacy of your bodies curled around each other like snakes. Everything else truly ceased to exist.

Not much of the hotel room was spared either, lamps knocked over, framed artwork half shattered on the floor, and different things haphazardly strewn about. At last, the bed became the lion’s den, where the last of the raging fire simmered out, leading into a sated slumber.

You awoke before him, too restless from an influx of dreams you couldn’t make heads or tails of. The early morning had a melancholic blue tint to it, barely illuminating the room. You watched him for a moment, trying to burn him into memory as you followed the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Keeping your thoughts at bay was becoming harder by the minute, especially wrapped up in his warmth and his smell. Suddenly, you couldn’t bear being in the bed anymore. You left a featherlight kiss on his shoulder before sliding out as quietly as you could. A certain bitterness slid down the back of your throat as you gathered clothes, padding over to the bathroom and dressing mechanically.

Any sort of logic or reasoning seemed to have left you as well, since you were prepared to flee with just what you were wearing. In that moment, you believed perhaps you could outrun the consequences, and yourself in the process.

But just as you opened the bathroom door and took one step out, you heard the clicking drag of metal and felt the coolness of it closing in around your wrist. You looked down to find yourself handcuffed to Duncan, who was only partially dressed. He looked at you intensely, knowingly even, pinning you in place. Your heart leaped to your throat, stopping any words you might want to say.

“I told you I wouldn’t make it easy either,” he said, his voice devoid of any humor.

He reached out with his free hand, but you weaved away from it like a skittish stray dog that’d been kicked too many times in its life. Your immediate response was a punch that he took in stride. In fact, he let you try and shove him, although the handcuffs would take you along with him. Your frustration only grew, and this time fighting him was different, more desperate – like a cornered animal.

“When are you going to stop fighting your desires?” He asked firmly, seizing your other wrist. “You can’t just run away this time. You owe me that much.”

“Duncan, please,” you said softly, looking down.

“Please, what?” He pressed.

“Why are we kidding ourselves?” You sighed. “We’re just horny and really fucking lonely…and I guess it helps that we understand each other. But we both know it can’t go beyond that.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t exactly have a profession that allows commitment…” you said, but he only stared, forcing you to continue. “What if they decided to assign us to kill each other?”

“I would gladly fake my death for you.”

You pursed your lips, forcing down the tears that once again crawled up your throat. Damn him and the way he made butterflies flutter around your stomach!

“But I won’t let it come to that,” he added. “I’ve already decided to retire early.”

You looked up at him in disbelief, eyes wide. “Really? Just like that?”

“Well I’ve wanted out for some time, but you kind of… helped me make up my mind,” he said, searching your eyes to try and solve the riddle of your feelings.

“And you thought, what? That I would quit too?”

He shook his head. “No. What you do is up to you. All I want is a quiet life, and to settle in one place so you’ll always know where I am.”

“Okay, and what if I have to be gone for a long time? Won’t you get lonely?” You asked, a painful spasm in your chest as you thought about it further. “What if you meet someone else? I mean, hell, I don’t even really know what it is you want with me…”

He frowned, truly unable to fathom your stubbornness. “Are you fucking serious right now? We’re handcuffed together. Do I have to spell it out further?”

Again, you sighed in frustration, closing your eyes for a moment. You hadn’t felt such a strong connection with someone in a long time, especially since you believed you were better off alone. Those you were close to could invariably become collateral, and that was one thing you simply couldn’t stomach.

And when you’d said that you understood each other, that had been the truth. Not many – if anyone at all – that weren’t in the business could understand your lifestyle. The guilt that came in waves, threatening to pull you under. The sleepless nights, the mastery of clinical detachment, the constant need to hide and stay vigilant. It was certainly not easy, but you’d simply gotten used to it over time.

But that didn’t mean you weren’t tired of living that way. Still, you hesitated, feeling yourself toe closer to the edge of the cliff.

“What if it’s just the excitement?” You asked, opening your eyes once more.

“It’s been years now… if it had died out, so would we,” he sighed, seeming a little aggrieved. “Or what? You don’t believe love and violence intersect?”

“Love!” You gasped, all pretenses shattered now that one of you had finally said that word. “That’s…”

“Is that what scares you most?”

After a moment’s hesitation, where you fidgeted uncomfortably, you shook your head. “I’m barely evenly acquainted with it, but it’s enough for me to know it doesn’t prevent someone from leaving.”

He nodded once in understanding, not having an argument for that. “And you think I’m an expert on it?”

You shrugged, not entirely sure of his romantic history. Still, you could at least tell that it had not been kind to him either. He pulled you closer, lacing his fingers through yours as if the cuffs weren’t enough to keep you.

“Despite it all, haven’t we inevitably found a way back to each other? Sure, the flame that kept drawing us at first might have been hatred, but pettiness could only take us so far…” He straightened so you could appraise him better, gesturing to himself. “I proudly wear the scars you have given me, and I would welcome many more.”

Your vision became blurry all of a sudden, though you couldn’t understand why. At least not until you felt a tear streaming down your cheek, which you wiped away defiantly. He rested his chin atop your head as you leaned against his arm, not looking at him.

“And if you think I will break your heart, what guarantee do I have you won’t break mine first?”

“You don’t,” you admitted honestly, which maybe was the whole point.

“And yet, it is still yours to break.”

You chuckled, but it sounded more like a choked sob. “You’re killing me, old man. What am I to do with so much?”

“You don’t have to carry it all on your own,” he said, bringing his free hand to your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze.

His expression was fully unguarded, like an open book for you to read. There was a vast depth there that seemed to invite you to uncover it, should you actually take the chance.

And beneath it all, a most desperate hope. One you could recognize, for you had seen it in your own eyes before. It struck you like an arrow, knocking the breath out of you.

One of the deadliest men on Earth utterly undone by one of the most common afflictions — that of the heart. Love.

It was a gift, a real promise beyond what words could express.

And so, you decided to let yourself fall.

The words left you before you could stop them. “I’m going to retire, too.”

He blinked in surprise, but you barreled on. “It’s not a life I want to keep living. It’s not life at all, really. I was just never really sure if there was anything else for me. But now, nothing is waiting for me out there anymore… I have all I want standing right here next to me.”

Oh, how his eyes brightened at your words. Like the sun rising over the horizon, bringing a new dawn. He wiped your damp cheeks, even if a smile had already spread across your face. Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest like a caged bird as he kissed you. It was sweet and unhurried, the culmination of all the yearning and long-repressed desire.

“And what happens now?” You asked softly.

“Anything we want. The world is our oyster,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “You know, there are lots of beautiful chapels around here.”

You scoffed. “Be serious right now!”

“I am being serious.”

You smacked his arm and rolled your eyes, but still felt a swell of giddiness in your chest. “Don’t push your luck, old geezer”

“Can you please come back to bed now? We really should get more sleep,” he said, tugging you along with him.

“Can you at least uncuff us first?”

“No.”

----

#polar fanfiction #the black kaiser x reader #duncan vizla x reader #the black kaiser fanfiction #duncan vizla fanfiction #minors dni

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 5 months

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Eddie Munson's family dinner

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 23

Prompt: Uncle Wayne adopts Steve

Rated: M

CW: nudity

Tags: Modern AU; Rockstar Eddie; Royal Steve; Established relationship

Notes: Continued from days 11 and 14. I can't get this AU outta my head, halp!

Eddie can't recall the first time he saw Steve.

In all likelihood, he was two years old and Steve a tiny, wrinkly baby. His face was all over the news in the days and weeks following his birth, after all. Cradled in his mother's arms, staring bleary-eyed into the world as newborns tend to do - only that in his case, the entire world was staring back. The birth of the King's and Queen's first child had been long-awaited after all, a once-in-a-generation event.

In the years that followed, Steve was always just … kind of there. A strange-but-familiar boy who kept popping up on TV and the front pages of magazines, living a life so different they may as well have been from different planets.

Eddie still remembers fixing dinner in the trailer's tiny kitchen one night, news droning in the background.

"Poor kid," Wayne grumbled.

Eddie, sixteen and a giant shithead at the time, paused in putting the plates down on the table and glanced up to follow his uncle's gaze to the TV.

"Oh yeah, woe is him. Must be so fucking hard, living in a palace. Having an army of servants to wipe your ass and shit."

On the TV, the Prince sat between his parents at some sports event or other, a tiny carbon copy of his father with his Italian suit and carefully styled hair. Clapping at all the right times, face a polite, empty mask of a smile.

Wayne huffed. "Ain't no kid deserve that kinda shit. Always under scrutiny, paraded around like some trained dog."

Eddie rolled his eyes and changed the topic and they didn't talk about it any further.

Wayne's plates are still the same ones that Eddie was putting on the table all those years ago. Eddie has offered time and again to buy something new, but the stubborn old shit won't have it. Insists that Eddie already bought him a whole-ass house with the money from that first record deal, a car after the second, he won't die of a chipped plate or ten, thank you very much. He'll just have to get him new ones for Christmas, he guesses.

"This is delicious, Mr Munson," Steve is saying. He's sitting next to Eddie, back ramrod straight, elbows at a perfect angle, dissecting the meatloaf with careful precision.

Like some trained dog.

"My mom's recipe," Wayne hums, but then he sets down his own cutlery, expression serious. "Now … what are your intentions with my nephew?"

Eddie flushes about twenty shades of crimson. Incidentally, so does Steve.

"I …" he sputters, all traces of composure suddenly gone. "Well, I like Eddie a lot."

"I figured …" Behind Wayne's beard, his mouth twitches. "Seeing how you're wearing his clothes and all."

Steve blinks down at himself. They make sure to keep it low-profile when they're together. The paparazzi never sleep, after all, and they've both had their fair share of run-ins with the fuckers in the past. Which is why he's wearing a red-and-black flannel he stole from Eddie, faded and soft from too many cycles in the wash. Eddie wants to burn all the Italian suits in the world, wrap him up in soft and comfy clothes always.

"Um …" Steve says.

Wayne smiles.

"Relax, son, I'm pulling your leg." If he notices how Steve tenses at the word son, he graciously ignores it. "Now are ya gonna take my boy's hand, or what?"

Steve gapes.

"Might as well," Eddie winks, takes the knife from Steve’s limp fingers and entwines their hands. "He'll just keep nagging until he gets what he wants."

Their gazes lock and Steve smiles. Not a mask. The real one. The one where his eyes light up and he looks five years younger. The one that Eddie is rapidly becoming addicted to.

He turns back to eating his dinner one-handed and remembers another boy, a boy from a very different planet, getting coaxed out of his shell over the same plates, the same meatloaf.

Fuck the plates, he decides. Wayne is getting a whole damn kitchen for Christmas, whether he likes it or not.

"He's a great guy, your uncle," Steve mutters into Eddie’s chest later that night. They're all curled up in Eddie’s bed and he's naked except for the flannel. He claims it's to ward off the cold air seeping in through the open window, and Eddie isn't about to argue. Not when the sight does things to him.

"Sort of thought he was gonna hate me," Steve continues, and Eddie hums quizzically.

"Why's that?"

"Hm, let's see …" Steve's brow crinkles in mock-thought. "He raised the guy who wrote two top-ten songs about how much the monarchy sucks, that could've been a hint."

"Nah," Eddie chuckles. "Guy would've adopted you as a kid, if he could've. He's always loved you, way-"

Large hazel eyes blink up at him and the words get stuck in his throat.

Because he hasn't said it yet, even though he's rapidly coming to accept that it's true.

Way before I did.

"And apart from that," he says instead, "if you marry me, I'll be a princess. What parent doesn't want that for their kid?"

"Hold your horses," Steve grumbles, but his eyes are sparkling again. "We can't get married if your uncle adopts me."

"Shame," Eddie quips and presses him down into the pillows. "Would've loved to wear a tiara on stage, that sounds like a killer look."

Eddie doesn’t recall the first time he saw Steve, but he doesn’t really think it matters. Not when he gets to see the real him now, with no-one else watching. Blushing and naked, lips kissed pink, glowing with happiness.

It's an image he's sure he won't forget.

All my holiday drabbles

#steddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddie holiday drabbles #hype's holiday drabbles

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a-dinosaur-a-day · 10 months

Text

Tumblr, We Need To Talk

So multiple times now, posts that I have written, completely free of any sense of anger at all, have been interpreted by folks here - not just as angry - but as malicious. It has now happened enough times that we need to address the biases at hand here.

I am three things that are relevant for this discussion: I am Jewish. I am Italian. And I am Scottish.

These are three cultures that feature "loudness" as a positive trait. What do I mean by that?

I mean arguing, debate, discussion at my home growing up was louder than a kindergarten field trip to the zoo. Louder than a metal concert's mosh pit. Louder than the conure room at a bird shelter.

I am a loud, boisterous person. That's just who I am. With those three cultural backgrounds, I can't even help it. On more than one occasion, someone has interpreted my tendency for the dramatic, my eagerness, and my enthusiasm as being "too much". In fact, it is quite a point of trauma for me, the number of times that specific rejection has occurred.

But to me, I wasn't doing anything wrong! I was acting as my family acted, as people from my culture acted, as those around me in other situations acted. In Judaism, arguing is even seen as emotion-free, because interpersonal debate is how we learn and grow. Even the most stringent and austere Jewish groups will feature a loudly arguing table of scholars in the Beit Midrash. Italian dinners are filled with singing and shouting for joy. Being Scottish means yelling at everything and then yelling at it again. This was, and is, my life. It was loud. It was emotional. It was excitement.

Online, tone indicators are even worse, with many people easily being misunderstood in a given situation. Hell, there are probably those of you reading this now who are reading a higher level of emotion and anger into my words than is actually there. That added complication has now lead to multiple occurrences of this misunderstanding.

This isn't limited to the cultures I come from, of course! The anger and excitement and enthusiasm found in Black culture has been weaponized against it for as long as racism has existed (y'all can ask @ladyraekingmaker more about that). In fact, lower class Black Women in the United States were often perceived negatively for being loud and having their private lives carried out in public (because they did not have access to private spaces). Same for different cultural norms in other places, from Persia/Iran to parts of Latin America and more.

Indeed, loudness, anger, and tone are heavily tied to how different cultures are perceived. Calmness, stoicism, and a lack of "emotionalness" is a highlight of WASPy cultures, famously - "white anglo-saxon protestant" if you're not familiar. Being more "low key" and less expressive was considered high class, being less so was low class. And that still continues today - from the snide comments of tumblr anon's and ex friends, to the literal policing of impoverished communites of color for their celebrations and community gatherings.

The perception of emotion and passion as a "bad" thing is 100% tied to white supremacy. Full stop. In fact, policing people for being "angry" at certain things was a great way to shut down discussion of many important issues, that deserved anger - things like racism, sexism, and homophobia. Anger is a good, important, and necessary emotion - and being emotional in general is a way many people use to emphasize their own points and indicate how much they care about a subject. It's necessary, and it's good. Anger, emotion, excitement, these are good things.

It is better for someone to be angry and up front with you, allowing you to learn and grow as a person, than to bullshit you and mollycoddle you into a state of complacency.

So, that means that for many people reading this, you probably never really thought of how your reaction to loud, or emotional, or dramatic, or excitable people was related to upholding social norms. That's okay! It's not a big deal! We are all born with blind spots and things we are ignorant of that we have to understand and tackle. Growing up is something we never stop doing.

But I'm not magically going to stop being excitable, loud, and emotional. And I'm not going to magically stop being myself. While in person, my tone and facial expressions would help others to at least see that I am not mad but excited; here, you're going to have to take me at my word.

If I am angry, you will know it. It will be extremely, painfully obvious. I might even explicitly say it. But the fact remains is that, every time I have gotten (frankly, condescending) anons in my inbox telling me to "calm down", I haven't been angry at all. And that is a cultural bias a lot of you have to examine in yourselves. By policing how people - not just me - on how they talk and express themselves, you are upholding white supremacy. And you need to stop.

I am too much for some people. That's okay! If I am, you are free to go. No one has to follow me. But I am not going to minimize myself just to make some people comfortable, especially when I am doing nothing wrong. And if you continue to insist that I am, you are missing the point of this post.

Stop worshiping the empty alter of stoicism, of emotionlessness, of quietude. It's not how most humans act. And it shouldn't be, because emotions exist for a reason. That reason? Is communication.

And if you're still not convinced, just get invited to a Pesach seder. Good luck with that being anything close to "calm".

~ Meig

#emotion #logic #cultural differences #white supremacy #tone policing #not dinosaurs #this post is cosigned by my friend who is a cultural historian thanks

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cupid-styles · 7 months

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Need💳💥that💳💥 jealousy 💥💳 part💥💳 now💥💳(with love)

(with love) ur so cute gjerktej I couldn't resist writing it and I hope you like it ! :)

part of the ymls universe ! read the original here

word count: 862

content warnings: pregnant y/n, baby talk, harry being a himbo idiot

. . .

Y/N isn't quite sure how she ended up in this position.

One minute, the cute barista at her local coffee shop asked her out on a date and slipped her his number. (It was a sweet move, she has to admit, and it made her stomach do a flip in a way that she hasn't felt in awhile... not since she and Harry slept together two months ago or so, but she would never willingly admit that.) The next minute, they're on the date, grabbing dinner at a quaint Italian spot in his part of the city, and it's going... terribly.

It turns out he's some poor excuse for an indie wannabe, only talks about himself, and even tried to get her to have a glass of wine despite Y/N's disclosure that she's pregnant. It's all entirely too uncomfortable, and she can feel her phone vibrating in her pocket nearly every five minutes — the first and second times she checked it with an apology to... whatever his name was, concerned that a friend or family member needed something, only to find that it was just Harry blowing up her phone.

are you there? where did he take you?

if im thinking of the same guy, he's not even that cute, you deserve better

also he better not drink and drive, there's precious cargo to take care of

lmk if you need me to bail you out early

She tries ignoring his constant texts, even considers putting her phone on do not disturb, but she can't tell which is worse — the man sitting across from her that's making painful attempts at conversation, or the father of her baby who is clearly on a jealousy kick right now.

When her date is four glasses of wine in and asks how they'll be splitting the bill, Y/N unofficially decides that Harry isn't the worst part of the night.

With a grimace, she throws some cash down on the table and heads to the bathroom without a goodbye. When she's safely alone in a stall, she takes a deep breath and presses Harry's contact, only for him to pick up after one ring.

"Hey," she greets, trying to hide the way her voice wobbles, "I need you to come pick me up."

"Why? Is everything okay? Is the baby alright?"

She sighs, lifting her hand to run it through her hair. "Yeah, the baby is fine. I just need a ride."

She can hear some shuffling in the background and assumes he's getting ready to leave his place. "Why? Didn't he drive you there?"

"No, I took an Uber and I don't want to spend more money on this poor excuse of a date," she mutters grumpily, "Save your celebrations, I'm not in the mood."

A beat. And then, "I would never celebrate something making you upset, Y/N."

She shrugs, even though she knows he can't see it.

"Whatever. You're right, he wasn't that cute, and he made me split the bill with him and tried to get me to drink."

"What?"

"It's fine, I'm okay," she quickly backtracks with a shake of her head, "Just come get me. Please."

. . .

Harry runs two red lights, cuts off four cars, and imagines multiple different ways he wants to hurt the guy Y/N went out with.

(Realistically, he could never fight anyone, but he does contemplate filing an anonymous complaint with his boss at the coffee shop.)

A 25 minute drive is slimmed down to a 17 minute one thanks to the traffic laws he breaks, and he's prepared to march into the restaurant to find Y/N, but she's already sitting outside. He sighs at the sight of her on the bench, cradling her small bump with her jacket wrapped tightly around her form.

"Why didn't you wait inside for me?" he asks when she opens the passenger side door.

"I just started my second trimester, let me have some independence while I can." she grumbles, slamming the door and buckling herself in.

He's silent at that, putting the car back in drive. He hates that she had a bad night, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't somewhat happy things didn't go well. The jealousy threatening to crawl out of him makes him embarrassed, and he knows Y/N would only yell at him if she figured out how he really felt.

The rest of the drive is quiet. He glances over occasionally to make sure she's doing alright, but every time he looks, she's staring out the window and slowly rubbing her bump.

As Harry pulls into a spot outside of her house, she clears her throat.

"Do you... do you wanna come in?" she asks, staring down into her lap, "Not for anything weird but, like... to hang out, or whatever."

He nods, his heart warming slightly. "Yeah. Actually, when you called, I was reading one of those parenting books I got and it said it would be helpful to start singing and talking to the baby so they recognize my voice."

She laughs lightly and resists the urge to tease him. "Okay," she says with a small smile, unbuckling her seatbelt, "You can come in and... sing to my stomach."

He presses his lips together so she doesn't see the grin threatening to appear.

"Thanks, Y/N."

#writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles #ymls concept

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navstuffs · 10 months

Note

Yknow sometimes I wonder when Leon will get that dinner of his. A blurb or just add on to how a nice comfy dinner with Leon would be nice. I think as long as the meal is pretty filling he’d enjoy it.

Plus get a nice desert with his dear reader😋

taking Leon to get what he always deserves is one of my fav things to write for him. thank you so much for requesting me to write this, and i hope you enjoy it!

requests for leon/carlos are open! you can request them individually or in a poly with reader! | my leon's masterlist

You had heard about Leon's fame for inviting people to dinner before you got to work with him. Have you heard the best defense is the attack? So, of course, you took the initiative and invited him first before Agent Kennedy could even pop out the famous question. His surprised face made it all worth it, and you had to bite your lips to not laugh at his face.

"You want to take me on a dinner?" Leon wonders, his voice half shocked or half scared. You had never seen Leon Kennedy that stunned, not even while facing the terrors of bioterrorism, and something inside of you seemed to light up.

"Yeah. I wouldn't call it a date just yet." You decide to tease him a little further just to see his reaction.

Leon brought his hand to rub his neck, his blue eyes looking anywhere but your face. Is it your impression, or is THE Leon Kennedy blushing? Oh no, he is, the faint rouge color spreading over his cheeks, for more he is trying to hide with his darker golden locks covering his face. You want to ask if the cat cut his tongue, and Leon finally answers an embarrassed "yes," and you think you saw a small smile on the corner of his mouth.

So fast forward to Saturday night, you two are sitting at the table of the famous Mario's Cuisine, one of your favorite spots for Italian food. You tell yourself that it is not a date as Leon passes his eyes over the menu. He doesn't look too overly dressed, although the smell of his cologne has never been this strong before.

After your orders are taken, there is just silence at the table. You observe all the other couples on their romantic dates night, talking, laughing, and staring at each other romantically. You decide any conversation would be good at this point.

"So what do you think? Nice place, huh?"

"Yeah, Italian food. One of my favorite foods. Never been here, though."

"Oh, you will love it!" You exclaim, overly exaggerating with your hands. Not that you are getting nervous now, but you probably are, observing the candles flickering before you. "So, mhm, I just want to clarify something, by the way."

"Yeah? What is it?"

Before you can explain this isn't exactly a date, or you never would want to make him uncomfortable, the waitress returns with the wine, smiling ear to ear. You sigh, thanking, and the conversation dies down again.

You can feel Leon scanning you, wanting to say something, but he just can't bring himself to articulate. He is nervous, rubbing his hands over the table, hoping you haven't noticed yet. Before you can think this was all a mistake Leon gathers his courage to ask, his voice unsure.

"So, do you like Italian food?"

You stare at him for a second before chuckling. He smirks back, relieved. Until the food arrives, you two are in a very heated debate over Italian food: red or white wine? Lasagna or spaghetti? Meatball pasta or fettuccine alfredo? It is interesting to learn how much Leon and you love food and how much he actually knows about cooking.

"Wow, you know a lot, Leon!" You exclaim, astonished, and he stares at you back, pretending to be offended.

"What, you think I am an idiot who can't cook? I could cook for you anything you want!"

Leon seems to realize too late what he said, grabbing his almost empty cup of wine and turning at once. Before you can answer, the food is finally there, and you see Leon's eyes glow toward his plate. You decide to ignore his proposal, not considering it seriously as well. He just said it because he was excited, you tell yourself.

You two eat, debating the flavors and how good it is. Leon praises you for your choice of plate, redeeming you now to be a food lover like him.

"Well, that is for sure an honor, thank you," You chuckle, bowing your head down in a sign of respect.

Leon doesn't answer, just staring at you. There is something different in his eyes, a particular emotional expression you had never seen before, and you think there is some sauce in your shirt.

"Something wrong?" You wonder, cleaning your face.

"Thank you. For bringing me here." He simply says, low enough for you to hear. You feel a chill down your spine because Leon has never been so emotional as right now. You gulp before you answer.

"Sure? Of course! I have other restaurants to take you if you want."

"I'd love—"

A beautiful tiramisu is placed in front of both of you, interrupting Leon. The waitress leaves, wishing you a good meal. You grab your spoon, wondering if Leon will continue his sentence, but he seems too focused on his own desert.

When dinner ends, and Leon pays over your protests ("I invited you, let me pay, Leon!"), you exclaim you will be paying for the next one, and he doesn't really answer, looking down. When you two are already out of the restaurant, Leon turns to you, a peculiar expression on his face.

"Thank you for this. For inviting me... it was perfect."

"You welcome, anytime."

You two stare at each other without saying anything for a moment before exchanging awkward goodbye. Leon watches you go to your car before he turns away, hands in his pocket. He walks a few steps to his motorcycle before hearing hushed footsteps. Leon turns to find you, breathless.

"I am sorry, Leon, but would you like to go on other dinners with me? More like a date? Could it be a lunch date also?" Leon blinks his mouth, half open. His whole face goes red as he opens a big smile that illuminates his whole face.

"I'd love to."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #I FINISHED WRITING/EDITING THIS DRUNK i have no idea how this turned out I AM SORRY FOR ANY MISTAKES #it was so fun writing this THANK YOU SO MUCH!

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creedslove · 11 months

Text

DESERVE IT - PART FOURTEEN

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Dinner goes wrong when Murphy can't control his anger over Javi's association with Los Pepes and uses you as a way to offend him. Javier isn't pleased and ends up taking out on you

Warnings: incorrect narcos plot, angst, hurt, offense, asshole!steve murphy, asshole!javier peña, mentions of break up, insinuations of cheating, smut, oral sex (f!receiving)

A/N: Hi besties, I hope you will like this chapter. I don't know how I feel about it, I liked some parts and hated other parts, but I feel it was necessary to the story and well asshole!javi is back, so enjoy!!! 🥺

• PART ONE TO THIRTEEN ON MY MASTERLIST

5k words

Olivia chewed her food slowly, her content face as she savored the mashed potatoes and well-cooked veggies and very so often shot you and Javi adorable little smiles. She was an adorable child, eating her own food which you also prepared, while the adults enjoyed their Italian and the bottles of wine.

You had already finished one with Connie before the boys arrived, so you really knew you should stop yourself right there. You definitely didn't want to wake up vomiting all your way to work, you were definitely not ready to have Javier holding your hair back while you emptied your stomach in front of him. You knew he would do it without complaining, just as you would do it for him if he ever needed it, but you got really embarrassed at the thought of it. It wasn't a very sexy image. You were also in no mood to face any pregnancy jokes, because it seemed women were only designed to have one condition which implied growing a child in their womb, especially at your work environment where it was dominated mostly by men and their narrow points of view or women like Colleen who would love to overhear a juicy gossip and spread it through the country even if it had no proof of it being real.

And the third reason was because death would probably be sweeter than facing a hangover in the Colombian heat.

So when Murphy offered you another glass, you politely declined, helping yourself to another slice of lasagna, hoping you could filter the alcohol in your blood by putting something in your stomach.

He shot a glance and raised the bottle at Javi who also shook his head, which you thought was odd. Javier Peña never refused a chance to get intoxicated in alcohol.

You went back to focusing on Connie's story, though Javier's hand was restless on your thigh. That wasn't common of him either. Of course he had the habit of touching you, but he usually just rested his hand on your skin, however, you could feel how he squeezed your thigh softly, you didn't mind it at all, but you knew him enough to tell it wasn't normal. There was something bothering him, but not only him, Steve was also bothered, angry even, as he very often made snarky remarks towards your boyfriend. It wasn't unusual for the two agents to have conflicts concerning work, both of them were stubborn as a mule and if they didn't agree on something, things could get bad between them, but at the same time, they always managed to leave their work beefs at work, so whatever happened must've really angered Steve.

Javi took a deep breath, side glancing at you as you ate. He was hoping you would be satisfied enough so he could come up with any excuse to go home, at the same time he didn't want to rush you, it wasn't your fault he was a dumbass who only took bad decisions in life, well, not only bad ones, you were the living proof Javier could get some things right, but other than you, the rest was just a long shot.

When Steve mentioned something about work, Javi began to restlessly trace patterns on your skin. It was as if he had gotten into a nervous state, though you didn't get what exactly happened, it was like the two of them had an inside joke going on, one that was not funny at all.

You then remembered your interaction earlier that morning, when you put on his shirt and Javi had told you he was going to wear that during his meeting with Messina and you immediately relaxed at the same time you felt your cheeks and the tips of your ears heating up at the immediate memory that flooded you of what came after he had mentioned the shirt. The way he'd gripped your neck, touched you and filled you up with every inch of himself. It felt like you had been lost in paradise. Also, it became a fair assumption the discomfort between the two agents was their boss's doing. She must have been feral on them during their meeting and Murphy probably blamed it on Javier, or Javier blamed it on Murphy like they usually did.

The tension you felt dissolved completely and you actually enjoyed your boyfriend's little touches under the table, they weren't erotic, - Javier wouldn't do that. Yes, he was the kind of guy who would definitely finger you under the table in a crowded place, but no, he would never even consider doing that if there were any kids nearby. But the touches were intimate, affectionate. You bit your lips, pretending you were listening to every single sentence in that conversation, but in reality you were trying to distinguish what exactly Javier's finger was invisibly drawing on your skin, you could feel steady lines, following a rhythm order and you couldn't help but smile big when you finally broke the code.

That's what his fingers traced on your thigh.

It was so silly and childish, and yet a sweet reminder of your relationship. He marked you as his even unconsciously. You couldn't lie at all, it felt pretty good.

Olivia yawned big and felt her little eyes closing on their own as sleep became so intense she couldn't keep her little head from hanging low. Connie chuckled as she noticed her daughter being so sleepy and immediately got up, picking her up gently and disappearing into one of the rooms of the apartment.

Murphy took the opportunity his wife and daughter weren't in the room any longer and smirked as he raised yet another glass of wine towards you before killing it in one sip.

"So, Y/N… you and Javi are a thing, for real now, huh? Remember just how a few months ago he was a real dick to you? He treated you like absolute shit and even fucked a hooker that looked just like you, or so I heard…" he laughed softly "good thing you are a real sweet thing and you can overcome those ups and downs in your relationship, because trust me, sweetie, I'll really need this resilience"

Just as shock was everything that went through your body, anger was the only thing that ran through Javier's veins. You both could tell Steve was drunk from the amount of wine he'd had, but he should've known better than to bring shit up like that. It was none of his business, and still quite of a gray area for the two of you as you had pretty much ignored it and pretended it never happened, when in reality you just hoped everyone else would do the same. It had already been pretty humiliating and painful as it was and you definitely didn't need anyone, let alone Steve bringing that up.

Javier slammed his hands on the table, immediately getting up and pointing a finger at Steve's temporary madness. It was one thing if he was pissed off at him. If he wanted to punch Javier in the face he could even do it and Javi would definitely not give two shits about it, but teasing you and bringing you into that situation, that was too much for him.

"Shut the fuck up right now, Steve. Why are you even saying shit like that? I made a lot of mistakes but this is none of your fucking business, I don't talk about your personal life, so why are you doing this to us? To her?" He pointed at you, as you kept your head low, you felt so ashamed at that moment, still clueless to why such thing had been brought up like that, but Steve didn't care at all.

"Sorry Y/N, didn't mean to embarrass you, but I was also wondering if you know your wonderful boyfriend is being threatened by the head of the Los Pepes death squad? Do you know she has promised to end his career in the DEA by going to the american press?" He asked "can you believe that?"

You didn't say anything at the same time Javier's voice filled the room initiating an argument with Steve, hoping he would stop talking.

"Here's a great idea, Jav… instead of jeopardizing our entire mission, you could give in to your impulses and fuck Judy, maybe it will help us all… I'm sure Y/N wouldn't mind, deep down she knows she can't expect much from you… or maybe she would understand perfectly, I'm sure she would take this bullet for the team"

You didn't know why Steve was acting that way, why he was suddenly so angry, you could understand his frustration, of course but it didn't explain why he decided to use you as a target to hit Javier. He could have just talked about his posture as a cop, insist on argumenting how wrong associating with that squad was, but using personal elements to provoke Javier was too much.

"Why are you doing this Steve?" You finally raised your head and stared at him, your cheeks already wet with tears you couldn't control at the anger and shame of being treated that way by someone you thought was your friend.

You could have raised your voice, defended Javier, defended your relationship with him, but you felt so weak and small at that moment, as if you were just a stupid little girl who fell for the Romeo's cheap tricks. You knew you couldn't let Javier's past intrude your relationship, he had changed, he wasn't that jerk anymore, he was a good man, actually he had always been a good man but he didn't believe in himself. You believed in him and that made him believe as well, and that was why your relationship was working so perfectly, but no one, and especially no one you considered a friend had the right to bring those things up. It was mean, hurtful and you felt you couldn't stay there any longer. If Murphy had a problem with Javier, he should solve it with him, and not drag you into the eye of the storm.

You got up and grabbed your coat, walking to the door at the same time Connie returned from the room and watched the warzone her dining room became. She didn't understand why Javier was screaming at Steve at the same time her husband pointed at you and mumbled something she couldn't actually understand and you cried, but she knew it wasn't good.

She called your name, trying to make you stop, wanting to talk to you and ask you what was going on, but you turned your back to everyone and walked away, running downstairs and locking yourself up in your apartment.

Javier on the other hand was livid, he wanted nothing more than throw punches at Steve, he didn't understand where that attack came from, Javi knew he had all the right to be pissed at the Los Pepes association but that should have been handled in the office and not during a double dinner date, and not by attacking and teasing his girlfriend. Javi also knew it was the only way he would get a reaction from him. If Steve had said anything about Javier, he would have probably shrugged it off, but the moment he brought you into the deal then Javi got angry. To the point he didn't know any better and finally punched his friend, feeling Murphy's face under his fist and blood immediately soaking his pained knuckles. He didn't want things to go like that, but it was partially if not mostly Steve's fault for acting like a dick around them all.

Murphy immediately fought back, throwing a punch at Javi, who groaned and was ready to get back at the other man once more if it weren't for Connie screaming for them to stop. She was terrified, in all the years they'd been together, she'd never seen her husband act like that and especially not towards his partner.

She desperately asked them to stop, but Steve seemed to only had fallen back into his senses when Olivia also screamed in fear, so scared at the commotion happening in the living room and snapping her away from her sweet dreams.

Murphy finally stopped and looked at his wife's shocked face, then looked back at Peña, who was panting and wiping the sweat off his face.

"See the shit you did, Javier? You can never do anything right!" He said angrily and paced the living room, "my daughter's crying now, scared because of your fucking scene!!! Not that you understand what that means, because you are never gonna have that, Javier. Never! You'll screw up just like you did with your job, I don't even know why you still try it!"

•••

Javier immediately left the apartment and ran downstairs, the whole environment was suffocating him, but not as much as Steve's words. He knew people didn't take him seriously, not his friends, not his partners at work, not his hometown and not even his dad. And he never really cared about it, or the part of him that actually cared was long gone and buried. It was easier to handle things that way, Javier taught himself.

But lately he had learned to trust a little more in himself, because you had faith in him, you were the only good thing he had in life and he hated himself to be brutally reminded he didn't deserve you like that, he hated how you left the room crying, disappointment after disappointment. Of course to some extent blaming it on Steve was the logical attitude, but if it weren't for himself, there would be nothing Steve could have used against you. He had done all those things, he had humiliated you with a fucking prostitute, not only that, one that looked just like you, it was disgusting and low, and he honestly didn't know why or how you had forgiven him.

Even if the whole death squad drama didn't happen, you would still have to face shame for the rest of your life just because of the mere fact of being with him. It didn't matter where you went, if it was Colombia or Laredo, people would always point fingers at you, whispering and laughing at the fact you chose Javier Peña.

He wanted to disappear at that moment, it weighed so heavy in his chest, he felt so guilty and ashamed of himself.

At the same time he needed to see you, he wanted to avoid you. He hoped you weren't so upset, so broken at what happened, you were such a strong girl, but even he could tell Steve stroked a delicate point.

He stood in front of his apartment and opened the door, walking inside and calling your name, having no answer and swallowing hard, as he knew instantly you were back at your place. He ran his hand through his hair and sighed deeply, a bad feeling taking over him as his heart raced at the absence of you.

He turned around and went for your apartment instead, an anger filling his body, running through his veins. He knew he couldn't just aim his anger with Steve at you nor his self-hatred, but god, it made his blood boil not to find you there. All that talk about love, partnership and understanding just went to shit because of Steve's tantrum?

He didn't knock, instead he used his own key and burst the door open, making you jump off the couch startled. You sniffed as your eyes were red and puffy, being obvious you'd been crying for the past half an hour.

You looked at him, not liking how dark his expression was, he wasn't looking at you with soft, loving eyes, you could see the burning rage and you didn't know what else had happened, but you trusted he wasn't going to be childish and take it on you.

"What now?" He asked and folded his arms "is it because of Judy and her threats? Or is it still because of the hooker?" He asked annoyed and looked at you up and down. He was just so angry, at any other time, he would have wrapped his arms around your body, pulled you closer and made you forget all about what was hurting you, but at that moment, Javier's feelings were a turmoil and he couldn't control them.

You dried your tears and walked to him "why are you being so rude? It's not my fault" you said and stared at him, why Javier was snapping like that was beyond you.

Javier scoffed and shook his head "I'm not being rude, I just asked you a question, are you gonna cry about that too, Y/N? I thought all that talk about forgiving and believing I was a better man was real, but every single time something about my past comes up you're gonna cry like that?" He was visibly impatient at the same time he was willing to give everything in order to shut himself up before he could screw things up.

You frowned and shook your head "yeah, I meant all that when I said I believed you, and that I trusted you could be a better man, Javi… you are a good man" you said "but this is not the way of talking to me, it hurts Javi… I don't hold it against you, but it does hurt… it is something you did to hurt my feelings and you knew it… and now with Los Pepes… you are in danger, your career Javi… what if they try to kill you?" You blinked some more tears, but his expression was indecipherable.

He scoffed again and looked at you

"It doesn't make any sense, there's nothing any of us can do about it, cariño. I've always been a bad guy, too bad you couldn't see it, or you saw it and that was why you liked it so much"

Come on, Javier, don't say it.

He begged himself and bit his lower lip softly

"I don't think this will work, Y/N…"

You shook your head and took a step closer to Javier, he couldn't just regress to what he was before, no, you two had made such progress, you were so in love with each other, he couldn't just do what you thought he was about to.

"What are you talking about, Javi? It is working between us" you said as your breath accelerated and the blood in your ears almost made it hard for you to hear.

"It is working, but it's not gonna work in the long run Y/N"

"Are you breaking up with me?" Your voice cracked as you stared into his eyes.

No, never. He thought. He couldn't hold himself back now, he had made so much progress he was just so happy, he just wanted to fall on his knees and show you he was yours and only yours. But he didn't.

"Fuck this"

He said and turned around, walking out the door.

•••

You didn't keep track of how long you were crying by yourself. You couldn't believe and wrap your head around what happened. Just as you had got Javi, you had made plans with him, you had envisioned and fantasized a life of happiness and love with him, moving into his ranch, living your life next to him, maybe getting married one day and even maybe bringing a baby into the picture, all of that, it seemed so real to you and just like that he walked away from you.

Anyone could see it coming, but you couldn't, because they didn't know Javi the way you did, they didn't love him the way you did and they didn't know he loved you the way you did. He was so affectionate, so in love, always in need of touching and feeling you next to himself, he couldn't just walk away from you. Yeah, what had happened was bad, but all the path you walked together couldn't be undone just by one simple occasion. Steve's words couldn't be that powerful, could they? Or Javi wouldn't just break your heart with that stupid excuse of keeping you safe or because he knew you deserved better. That grew old, you didn't buy anymore. One part of you didn't believe your Javi, your lovely handsome boyfriend would ever do that, but on the other hand that was exactly what it looked like. He had just walked away with no further explanation.

You felt so lost, so alone as if the ground had disappeared off your feet and you desperately needed to find a grip back to reality. The beautiful moment you lived with him couldn't be over just yet, you couldn't accept that was ever all you would get of him because the cold truth snapped you away from the fairytale you lived for the past two months.

Those two months of pure happiness and bliss, of affection and amazing sex couldn't be the only thing to your relationship with Javi, because you were certain those two months would ruin the rest of your life, you would never be able to be happy again.

You desperately felt the need of being close to him, even if he had just left you wanted to feel his warmth, his embrace, smell his cologne, you wanted to cup his cheeks and make sure he was real, he was still yours.

So you didn't think twice before walking into his apartment. It was where you were supposed to be sleeping, where you should be tangling yourself into his body in bed, naked, rapid breathing and rhythm moves bringing the two of you to the bliss you craved so much with your man. Everything about that place hurt when you stepped inside. It had become so cozy, your true home, more than your own apartment and yet, the desperate possibility of not having free access to it every single day just made your heart tighten in your chest.

You didn't know where Javi went, a teeny tiny little part of your brain tried haunting you, planting the jealousy and anxiety seed, reminding you of all the shady sketchy places he often went to to pick up women before getting with you, but you quickly dismissed it. You had hopes it wasn't nothing but a misunderstanding, and even if it weren't, you thought Javier was better than that. Chances were he just went out to some bar to get drunk and forget that night ever existed, and it was what you should do too. If he had the right to low-key break up with you and go get drunk, then you also had the right to forget.

With the exception you we're already tipsy from all the wine you had had earlier, before everything went to shit, and that you were in Colombia and that was definitely not a safe place for a woman to walk alone at night.

Also, the fact you weren't a DEA agent carrying a gun for protection weighed on it.

A gun.

A gut feeling told you to immediately look for Javi's badge and gun, if he had left them at home, it meant he left for a bar or somewhere else, though you really didn't want to even think of that hypothesis.

You shook your head and got off his bed, going to the safe place he kept them both and opened it, finding it completely empty.

Your mouth went completely dry.

He had taken his gun and that could only mean problem.

When Javier drove back home he wanted to punch and kick himself for being that stupid. He couldn't even begin to explain to himself all the things he did wrong. Was it jeopardizing a whole investigation by allowing a death squad to finish the enemies they had in common? Was it letting his temper get in the way of his friendship? Yeah, Steve was a douche and he deserved that punch, not only for himself but for embarrassing you like that. As Javi had thought over and over: Steve could have talked about anything about Javier, but not about you. Not when you were so good to them, not when you were his girlfriend and Steve's friend. It was mean, cruel even and also a cowardly move coming from him. But now, thinking clearer, Javier knew he could have handled things better, maybe he could have just left and let the soberness of morning light handle the situation better. It would've been wiser to do that.

But out of all the bad things Javier did that night, definitely his attempt of pushing you away was the cherry on top of the cake.

He didn't know what had got into him, the whole situation led him to an unbelievable anger, one he should have aimed at anyone but you, because you were the only good thing in his life, you were the one who made it all worth it, you were the one he loved and wanted to have a future with.

And yet, he acted like a real bastard. He purposely hurt you, he left you in the dark and now he was terrified you had taken things to the letter, he just didn't know what he was going to do if you walked out of his life. If you did it, he would deserve it, but he was sure he would die.

Javi parked and got out of the car, his head pounding at the adrenaline and the booze, the punch, the stress and the fear of being alone. He sighed, he shouldn't have done any of the things he did that night, especially not after he grabbed his gun and left, but he saw no other way out. Javier took a look at your apartment door, you were probably there, asleep or crying yourself to sleep, as everything was dark and silent, so he just entered his place, knowing it would be just as dark and empty as it was the first day he moved in.

And you were there.

You were there as if nothing had happened, as if you hadn't been treated like shit by Steve first and then by Javier himself. He just couldn't believe it.

"Y/N…" he whispered and walked to you, seeing your puffy eyes, the tears caused by him, still present. You were still wearing the same dress as earlier, and god, you looked gorgeous, he wished he had told you before. When you were still having dinner with your friends, when he had his hand on your thigh, tracing his own name on your skin.

You didn't move, as you watched him walk towards you, you didn't see the storm in his eyes anymore, but you didn't see the joy in them, they were empty, sad… red.. was Javier tearing up? No, you must've been seeing things, you had never seen Javi cry.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of disappointment in himself, he knew what that scene looked like, even if he still carried his badge and gun, anyone who'd met him before would've guess he had taken a quick trip to a brothel and he felt ashamed of that, of himself and the fact people would always either laugh at you or would pity you for it.

"You're probably thinking I went to a whorehouse or something… Y/N I-"

You cut him off, shaking your head and whispering no repeatedly. Even if, yes, for a split second your anxiety made you consider the hypothesis, but you dismissed it right away, others could think whatever they wanted of Javi, but you knew him. You trusted him.

"No, Javi… I think better of you, I think the world of you and I trust you you wouldn't do this to me"

And that broke Javi.

Because you were too kind, you were too good for him, you were everything he didn't deserve it.

You always assumed the best of him, and he could never find anyone better than you. He wasn't in a whorehouse, he was at a whore's house. He went over to Judy Mocada's and against any better judgment he pointed a gun at her head, how her sicarios didn't kill him on the act, he would never know, but she thought it was intriguing, amusing even. What made a DEA agent hold her at gunpoint in the middle of the night definitely caught her attention.

He had made her an offer, she agreed and he needed to wait for her at the Embassy the next day. A part of him knew it was easy, too easy, actually, but he didn't care at that moment. In fact, he felt he should've blown up her head when he had the chance to.

And then he just wanted to go home and pick up the pieces of what he'd shattered.

And there you were, being too kind to him, being too loving, too affectionate. It just showed him little of a person he really was.

And standing right next to you, Javi felt onto his knees. His head looking up at you, all the love and admiration back in those beautiful brown eyes, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer.

"Soy un perro a tus pies"

Javier told you, his breathing was uneven as he waited for an answer that never came. You didn't have words to tell him, after all that happened in just one night you didn't know what to say. So instead, he decided to apologize to you in the best way he knew, the way he could speak beautifully without any words.

He sank his face into your core, lifting your dress up and quickly pulling your panties to the side. He lips didn't tease when they wrapped around your clit and sucked on it, feeling your characteristic warmth, your taste, and when your moans filled the room and your fingers ran through his hair, tugging and gripping at them, he thought that maybe and just maybe things would be alright again.

_____

A/N: it was a hard chapter to write, but it felt necessary to the story, I didn't want to ruin Javi's character development but I also wanted to show that deep down he is still the same insecure handsome broken agent we came to love 🥺🥺🥺

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