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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 22 days

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'Fake' Feelings

Zuko x Reader

Summary- In a pinch, you have to pretend to be in a relationship with Zuko. Little do you know it was never pretend for Zuko.

A/N- HAPPY BIRTHDAY @thethreeeyed-raven!!!!! This isn't my typical fandom as y'all know. I wrote this as a birthday gift to my best best best online friend. SHE'S AWESOME. Go check her fics out <3<3! CONTAINS A SINGLE BAD WORD >:)

Word Count- 2,468

"Mai, I already told you. I can't be with you!" Zuko was getting frustrated. While he did love Mai at one point, that was a long time ago. Zuko was now the Fire Lord, their relationship seemed like ages ago.

"And why not Zuko? We've been through this a hundred times. You always come running back, you're so pathetic. May as well cut the middle part and we can act like nothing happened." She stepped closer, pressing herself on his arm. "Like we always do..."

Zuko had finally realized how Mai controlled him. When he was weaker he was naive, now he knew what he wanted. Someone who never put him down, someone who never called him 'Pathetic.'

You.

He immediately thought of you. How you were so strong, but never put others down to feel powerful. How you always spoke your mind, but only out of the kindness you hid deep down.

Your walls were built up so high, but he knew who you were. He knew how beautiful you were.

"I can't be with you because I'm dating someone else." The words left his mouth faster than he could think.

This stopped Mai in her tracks. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, you're not the only one I am allowed to go out with. We've been broken up for awhile now." Zuko was no longer on the defense, but the attack.

"You do know that I am the only one who could love you. Who could love a traitor, a banished prince. Who else, huh?" Her arms were crossed, a smirk on her face. She knew she outwitted him.

Releasing his bit lip, Zuko exclaims your name.

Her face dropped. She knew exactly who you were. She was furious.

"We'll see about that..." With that, she left the room.

You were on your way to visit Zuko, one of your closest friends, for a 'friend reunion' Sokka had planned. You were of course excited to see him after so long. Though, the ride on Appa was miserable. About a hundred "are we there yet"s and "I'm hungry"s from Sokka.

The five of you- Sokka, Toph, Katara, and Aang made it safely to The Fire Nation shortly.

Upon landing, a man in red robes greeted everyone.

"The Fire Lord sends his deepest regards, as he could not see to you himself. You are instructed to follow me to your rooms." He had a stoic expression, but you guessed he greeted people all the time.

Oh well, Zuko must be very busy as a Fire Lord. You were sad, but couldn't blame him.

What you didn't know was that Zuko was pacing his room, definitely not busy. In reality, he cleared his schedule as much as possible for the week you were all visiting.

How was he going to tell you? He was deeply embarrassed, not to mention Mai might try and pull something with you. He knew not to underestimate her.

The thought of her trying to hurt you was enough to rack up the nerve to confess. He just needed a moment alone with you.

A grand dinner was prepared for the Avatars arrival, the rest of you reaped the rewards of being his friends.

"This is SOO good!" Sokka exclaimed, "Zuko sure has a way with food....." He slammed a fist on the table, before quickly lifting more food to his mouth,

"Sokka, you know he has chefs who make the food, right? Please tell me you know that..." You deadpanned, looking at him.

"Uh... Yeah! Yeah, definitely...." He looked down, that was until a new voice appeared.

"Sokka, did you really think I cooked all this?" Zuko walked to the seat at the head of the table. You noticed you were sat to his right.

It was a Fire Nation tradition that the Lady of the house would sit to the right of the Lord... You brushed the thought off quickly, writing it all off as a coincidence.

"W-well I don't know! You've been working ALL DAY!" Sokka squawked.

The dinner went on smoothly, well as smoothly a dinner can go with this group. You could feel the servants and servers rolling their eyes at all the unprofessional comments, jokes, and laughter.

You didn't care, you were just happy Zuko was able to be himself.

Hours later, when everyone was worn out and had their stomachs filled, they started to head to bed.

You were one of the last to leave, having been helping tidy up as much as you could.

You thanked and farewelled the servers, trying your best to remember where your room was.

The Palace was much bigger than you remembered. The halls upon halls blurred together. You were soon lost.

Every direction you turned looked the same, you started to breathe heavy.

You could already see it, 'cause of death, starvation in the Fire Nation Palace.' Or maybe dehydration would take you quicker?

A man passed by, you were saved! Though, the closer you got the bigger his scowl grew.

"Excuse me, I think I'm lost. Can you help me?" You were nervous asking, it was so 'common' for someone to get lost in a palace. You were sure your cheeks were red.

His face was dark, his eyes covered by his demeanor. For some reason he seemed annoyed at you.

"Sir?"

A hand rested on your shoulder from behind. It started you, putting you into a 'fight mode.'

Turning around swiftly calmed your nerves as quickly as they came. It was Zuko.

"Can I help you?" Zuko was talking to the strange man, who was no longer so 'big and bad.'

"No Fire Lord Zuko, my apologies." He barred his head in a bow and left.

You had a small smile on your lips, "Thanks, he was starting to scare me." While you were positive you could have taken the man, you were tired and didn't really feel like fighting.

"Of course, I can show you to your room." He held his arm out, you took it.

The gesture was friendly, you told yourself. Nothing more.

You must have been lost for awhile, as it took a few minutes to get to your room. The small talk exchanged was nice, but something told you Zuko was hiding something.

At your door, he stopped. "Zuko, do you want to come in? You seem restless."

"Actually, I do have something to tell you..." The tone of his voice scared you.

"Oh, then please sit." He joined you on the edge of your end. The door shut behind you two.

You pushed a strand of hair back, nervously sitting. "What's wrong?"

"I'm not really sure how to tell you this... I really am ashamed to have to ask you for a really big favor..." You had seen him on edge a lot, he was quite the stressor. Nothing like this, though.

"Zuko, anything. What do you need me to do?" You questioned.

He looked down at his hands, "You can tell me. I'm in no position to judge you, you know that."

"I uh," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I told Mai that we were dating so she would stop trying to get with me." He spit out so fast you almost missed what he said.

"Oh."

Well that's not what you thought he would say...

"That's not the worst part." He lowered his face to his hands, "The ball in four days, well I told her you were going with me... She's got Ty Lee lining up suitor for her. Trying to make me mad. Also she uh, she's probably told everyone now..."

"Oh." You were at a loss for words.

"I... I don't know... I'm sorry. This is stupid, at the ball I'll tell everyone what happened. I am so, so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen! It just slipped out an-"

"Zuko."

"Yes?"

"What if you don't have to tell everyone?"

You hadn't looked at him since he started talking. Honestly, a night with Zuko at a ball? It sounded like a dream. Zuko was handsome, kind, generous, and you'd had a crush on him for months. You knew he wouldn't ever really date you... So you might as well seize the opportunity, right? What could go wrong!

The two of you decided it would be wise to not tell anyone else it was fake, as Sokka, Toph, and Aang had big mouths. They'd slip up sooner or later. As for Katara, she wouldn't have kept that big of a secret from Aang.

So, for the next few days you and Zuko spent every second together. At first, it was coming up with plans for the ball. It turned into getting more physically comfortable with each other. That eventually escalated to spilling each other's deepest secrets, ya know... just in case...

Even in four days, you found yourself going from a crush to madly in love. You found out his quirks, what made him tick, his hidden likes and dislikes. Not a second was spent apart.

The afternoon before the ball you were stressed. It had been easy up until the ball. You just had to be yourself around Zuko, now you had to pretend in front of hundreds...

Katara helped you pick out a beautiful red and black dress. To match Zuko's of course.

A big scene was planned out between the two of you, Zuko would introduce you to everyone in an announcement and you'd walk don't the grand starts arm in arm with him.

It was fun to imagine and talk about, but now the 'what ifs' were running wild.

You somehow made your way to Zuko's room, knocking hesitantly. He begrudgingly opened, but became excited when he saw you.

"Zuko, I'm terrified." He quickly guided you into his room.

"What happened?"

"What if I fall? What if no one likes me? It's a lot of steps it-" He cut you off.

"Hey, it's okay... We can throw everything out the window. Just saw the words."

You swallowed thick. "No, no just... Just promise you'll be there? For me?"

Your name was a whisper on his lips, "Ill always be here for you... Just imagines its only us up there... Just normal day."

You nodded, more relaxed knowing he'd be by your side through I tall. It also gave you a wicked feeling of comfort to know he was still willing to do whatever you preferred. He would have ended the lie immediately if you asked, but you wanted to be there for him as well. To make sure Mai would leave him alone.

The Palace was bustling with people, waiters, food, activities, and entertainment. It all came to an abrupt stop when Lord Zuko appeared.

It was comical, trumpets blared and all head turned.

"Fire Lord Zuko, accompanied by-" Your name seemed unreal on his lips. To be announced with a Fire Lord? You felt you didn't deserve it.

You slowly walked into view of everyone, whispers erupting. To be 'accompanied by' was essentially dating for Lords and Ladys.

All eyes were on you as you took Zuko's arm, walking down the steps. You felt light, your grip tightening on Zukos.

"Almost there, I'm right here." His words were all the comfort you needed.

Music resumed and the party goers continued their fun.

That was expect for one person. Mai. She marched up to you, her questioning eyes on guard. Watching her march over sparked a fury in you, the fire started and didn't stop until you spoke.

"Hello Mai. How can I help you? Is your father well, since he lost his job as Governor and all..." You passively aggressively asked, a mock frown on your face.

"What would you know about Governor dad's and all? You grew up poor." Damn, she got you there.

"I guess the difference in poor and rich is personality. Cause you don't have one..." You shrugged your shoulders at her, biting back a laugh.

"At least Zuko loved me for who I am, not who I was pretending to be." She remarked, not really knowing why Zuko loved her or you.

"Damn Mai, you must know a lot about pretending. Seeing as you're a two faced bitch. Should I go and tell Ty Lee you called her an 'easy bed'." A gasp left her lips in shock, how did you know she said that? Well, you wouldn't tell her, but a gossiping Fire Sage spilled the beans.

Zuko, who had been temporarily called away to exchange pleasantries with a Navy Captain, had returned.

"Mai, I see you've met my girlfriend." He said, snaking a hand around your waist. Chills were sent up your spine.

She gave a scoff, "It'll never last. You're only in it because he's the Fire Lord." She pointed to you, then him, "And you, you just seemed to pick up the next girl you saw laying around. Talk about a downgrade. When you get tired of her, i'll be waiting." She walked away.

"What is her problem!" You exclaimed, face hot with anger.

"Jealousy, I think." He said.

You turned to face him completely. "What for, she doesn't even seem to like you anymore?"

"Maybe cause you're prettier than her?" He said, not realizing his own words.

Your cheeks were now flushed for a different reason. You swiped your lips with your tongue before speaking, "Thank you..."

Hours of dancing, partying, and eating went by. Everyone bought the act easily, you and Zuko were naturals at dating. The fun died down, and many were starting to go back home.

Zuko walked you back to your room, hand in hand.

"Thank you. I really cannot thank you enough, just ask. Whatever you want is yours." Zuko said, still grasping your hands at your bedroom door.

"I don't need anything. This was really fun actually, I know you were just pretending... but i've had the best time the past five days."

"Pretend?" His face screwed up, like he was in denial.

You blinked a few times, own lip curling. "Well, I mean... You made it pretty clear this was all just an act. I-I am not hurt." You were, but wouldn't let him know.

"Words cannot express how genuine these days have been... Oh gosh, I haven't felt this free since I was a child." He pressed on, serious.

"Y-you mean, none of this has been fake to you?"

"Well, I know you signed up for 'fake'." He looked over you, face uncertain.

With a step forward you spoke, "This hasn't been fake for me either..."

"Really?" He pressed his chest to your slightly, hand wavering around your waist. "Because I don't think I could live if you're lying right now."

"Will this answer your questions?" You leaned up, closing the gap and kissing him.

A/N- Thank you for reading, I haven't fully watched ATLA In a little bit sorry if Zuko is OOC!! When it's not midnight and I'm not super tired, I will edit any mistakes!

#avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #avatar aang #Zuko x reader #prince zuko #zuko x y/n #zuko x reader #katara atla #mai atla #fire nation #azula

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astrobiscuits · 5 months

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Astro obs part 10 (mostly Saturn related lol)

🧸 Individuals with Sun trine/sextile Saturn tend to have a great relationship with their grandparents (if they were a part of their life, ofcours). They usually inherit lots of traits from their grandparents

🧸 Sun trine/sextile Saturn people also have a great moral compass and sense of justice. They follow rules and regulations and are well seen in society (unless Saturn is retrograde, then they still try their best to be exemplary, but they might fail from time to time)

🧸 Most Libra Moons i've met went to law school for their university degree

🧸 Saturn in 1st house people tend to look really good when they get older. When they are young, they might often look older than their age, but once their Saturn Return hits them, they age up like "fine wine" from that moment on

🧸 Saturn in 2nd house individuals literally fit the "old money" aesthetic. Often times they come from a wealthy family. If they don't, then they are very motivated to work hard and become millionares. Bonus points if their Saturn is at 28°/29°, as 28° signifies the household degree (being famously known for your family OR in your family) and 29° signifies long-term fame for completing a (often times) karmic cycle and reaping its rewards

🧸 Saturn in 4th house peeps have always felt like the black sheep of the family. Often times they end up abandoning family traditions in the pursuit of following their own individual path. Growing up, they have often felt lonely in their family and shy around people they weren't familiar with

🧸 Saturn in 5th house individuals take their hobbies and passions seriously. They could pursue one of their hobbies/passions as a career later on. Child prodigies tend to have this placement. If there are other planets in the 5th house, those can give hints on the "talent" (but in the case of Saturn here, it's not talent, just hard work)

For ex. Saturn and Venus in 5th house - pursuing art/fashion/make-up/singing/baking sweets as a career

Saturn and Mars in 5th house - pursuing martial arts/race car driving/working out as a career

Saturn, Mercury and Pluto in 5th house - pursuing drama writing as a career

The exception would be for Saturn and Jupiter in 5th house - these people tend to have multiple talents that they could turn into careers

🧸 Saturn in 5th house is also often an indicator of an unhappy childhood. This child felt like a lot of expectations and responsabilites were placed on him by his parents from an early age. Another meaning of this placements would be that Saturn in 5th house children were brought up by their grandparents

🧸 Those with Saturn in 11th house feel more comfortable befriending people who are older than them. They're also not very keen on the latest technologies and prefer sticking to the ideals of the past long gone (aka they love victorian era and prefer to live like they're a gal/man from the 19th century). They also tend to be interested in politics

🧸 Earth Venuses and the type of chocolate they love:

Taurus Venus - milk chocolate

Virgo Venus - white chocolate

Capricorn Venus - dark chocolate

🧸 Individuals with Chiron in 5th house tend to struggle with infertility issues from a young age

🧸 Uranus in 3rd house individuals prefer taking short-haul flights when travelling short distances, while Uranus in 9th house individuals prefer taking long-haul flights when travelling long distances

🧸 Neptune in 6th house people make great psychologists and psychiatrists!! Often times these people have had a long history of dealing with certain mental illnesses, but instead of wallowing in their pain, they are inspired to help others overcome their own issues. Their capacity to emphasize with people's emotions is heightened, as they tend to relate to many of their client's symptoms. These people are also fit as somnologists (sleep doctors)

🧸 The sad part of Neptune in 6th house is that they often have to deal with stomach issues :( Their digestive system is extra sensitive, so they need to be careful with what they eat

🧸 Wanna know if you're secretly Jewish? Check out asteroids Hebrewu (271763) and Israel (7507) in your natal chart and your family's natal charts. If you find atleast one of these asteroids aspecting the angles (ASC, DSC, IC, MC), Sun or Moon in your chart and your family's charts, then there's a high chance you've got Jewish ancestry

🧸 In synastry, if your Ascendant conjuncts another person's Ascendant (so your house cusps become overlays), it's very likely that you've experienced the same events during your lives. This person would be your mirrored soul, which can prove to bring a great understanding over oneself

🧸 While we're still talking about aspects in synastry, Moon conjunct Chiron is not for the weak ones!! The Chiron person must display a sense of maturity or atleast be emotionally evolved enough to be able to deal with the Moon person. Chiron can trigger Moon's childhood trauma on a subconscious level, while Moon can trigger Chiron's deepest wounds regarding their house's themes. They can either heal each other or wound each other even more. This conjunction requires a great deal of patience and understanding between Moon person and Chiron person

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seasonallyappropriategoth · 4 months

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"i'm a vampire" this "i'm a vampire that"

aside from the whole period sex and drinking her blood, let's talk about how oliver quick really was a vampire throughout saltburn. am i really going to do this? maybe. it might not be long, i do feel like death. maybe i'll even touch on the catton family being vampires.

alright. from the start we see oliver taking resources from felix under the guise of being poor. the cost of the drinks, the time, the emotional space. he leeches on, yearning for love. later we see that all of this has been set up by oliver himself to manufacture these circumstances. but that's only the beginning and one of the least viceral instances of him 'bleeding the life' from the family.

where we really see this begin is after he comes to saltburn. i'll go through it briefly for now but here we see oliver dividing and conquering, making quick work of the family. as he is yet to succeed in tangebly seducing felix, the true source of his psychosexual obsession/infatuation, he begins this work on the rest of the family. he starts w the mother and when that fails, he changes tact and sinks his teeth in emotionally. he lets her tell him of her worries and assures her that she is a good person. he charms the father by displaying interest in what is important to the family.

he then uses knowledge gained through her mother to get literal blood in his mouth when he romances her in the night. he uses his knowledge of her eating disorder and her family's inability to see her to fully lure her in and to once again sink his teeth in emotionally, as well as physically, drinking her blood while he dominates her.

next, he continues his conquering by driving a rift between felix and his cousin, alienating the family member who is not entranced by his lies. this is before he does physically charm him. all of this is before any killing starts. now that he's got his teeth in, let's talk about how he drains his victims.

for cousin dearest, oliver makes quick work of framing him for crimes against the family. when he comes back after being cast out, oliver then frames felix for an ultimate, unforgivable crime: killing the golden son. felix is left w no financial resources and no familial support but his impoverished mother. he gets off relatively lightly.

now onto literally sucking life. once his cover is blown and felix asks him to leave, oliver gives him a poisoned bottle. this is obviously w the intention of at least felix drinking it and succumbing. which he does. felix's death leaves the family unstable and vulnerable, first used to get rid of the cousin who sees through him and to continue to latch onto the mother as a surrogate son in a now joyless and lifeless house.

the sister sees through him and what does oliver do? assist in her suicide after her speech about how he is eating away at her family. specifically in the bathroom which oliver first physically consumed felix for the first time.

what does this leave? an even more desperate vacuum for now two stand in children. perhaps three if we are to count the cousin. Elspeth clings on to him and oliver sinks his teeth in tighter. so tightly, in fact, that mr catton pays oliver off to leave.

finally, when mr. catton is dead, oliver manufactures a reunion w elspeth and reaps the rewards of his former work. he is once again living off the catton family until the time comes for him to drain the life from it's last surviving member.

he is eventually left alone in their mansion, with all their resources, and their ghosts.

#saltburn #felix catton #oliver quick #venetia catton #i literally cannot spell anyone's name #elspeth catton #anyway that was messy as fuck #best i can do rn but i was physically compelled #maybe next time will be on the cattons themselves leeching life #bc boy do i have things to say #kiss kiss #i am insane

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minnaci · 7 months

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🔮 LESSONS IN CONTROL

contents: ascended!astarion x gn!reader (tav), dubcon, hand-wavey mind control magic, heavy possessiveness, master/pet titles used, canon-typical objectification and condescension of tav/self-insert by ascended astarion, reader is needy and also smitten, fingering, penetrative sex (reader receiving in unspecified hole), praise kink, lovey dovey sex depending on ur interpretation of whether or not astarion genuinely loves tav/self-insert (if it helps, i wrote it with the mindset that he does love you)

a/n: wahoo!! second week let's go! please accept my first bg3 / astarion fic <3 he's so... so... i wanna kis his FACE!! as always, rbs & comments are appreciated!

you will never tire of the way that astarion looks at you, even now. there’s a covetous kind of adoration that shines in his eyes, a sort of smug, devoted possessiveness that makes your skin ache to be touched by him.

“there’s my little treat,” he purrs, welcoming you into his lap. his hands come up to rest on your hips, where they belong. “my sweet, darling pet… whatever is the matter?”

“i miss you.” you press up against him, petulant in the way you know he loves to indulge. “will you come to bed with me?”

“oh? surely, i have not been neglectful.” he doesn’t kiss you as much as he possesses you, licking into your mouth with a single-minded desire that makes your head spin. “after all, it was only last night that i took you until you could barely breathe from the pleasure.”

“but i could never have enough of you,” you say, punctuating your words with sweet kisses. “i’m addicted to you, master. i can’t help myself. whenever you’re not touching me, i ache for you.”

“needy,” he clicks his tongue. the taste of his condescension is sweet on your tongue. it drips over your skin, sticky and golden as honey. this is what you live for— this love, this obsession, this subjugation. “but far be it for me to deny you. where it is it that you ache, my dearest? is it… here?”

he dips his head, leaving a trail of warm, sloppy kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, down to your chest. the subtle point of a fang grazes against your nipple, and you gasp as his lips follow, suckling at your chest. neither of you have been warm-blooded or warm-bodied in centuries, but heat still shoots through your body at the way his mouth feels against your skin.

“l-lower, master— i need you, i—”

“lower?” his fingers trail down your stomach, slipping between your legs and rubbing at your leaking hole with well-practised grace. “here?”

“please, please stop teasing, master,” the words pour from you, a font of desperation. his presence is overwhelming in the best way. your chest heaves as you try to contain the abject desire that threatens to burst from your heart. “inside. i need you inside. please.”

his smile is a knife’s blade across his face— sharp, swift, satisfied. “how is it that you only grow more perfect for me with each and every day?”

if you were in your right mind, you might answer: of course you’re perfect for him. he’s molded you to fit his desires, rewarded you with pleasure beyond your wildest dreams in exchange for your submission. his love, his control— they’re one and the same.

love as subjugation. love so strong it rips you at the seams, remodels you in astarion’s image. this is what you crave. this is everything to you—

your mind goes blank as his finger breaches your hole. you’d prepared yourself for him— of course you had— and both you and your master reap the fruits of your labor. he makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat, feeling how pliant you are, how warm you are, and even the barest hint of his approval makes your head spin with heady bliss.

his fingers stretch you out, stroking along your sensitive walls and easily finding your favorite spots. you let out a soft, shuddery sigh, melting into astarion's shoulder as he fingers you open. he coos and curls his fingers just so— a reward for your easy submission.

ever since his ascension, astarion has changed— this much is undeniably true. what hasn't changed, though, is his uncanny ability to play your body like the finest of instruments. if he hadn't trained your hole so well, perhaps you'd be satisfied to sit on his fingers forever, drooling your brains out on the fine fabric of his regalia. as it is, your body hungers for more.

a wordless whine escapes your lips.

“i know, my sweet. i’ve been so mean, haven’t i? i said i would stop teasing, yet here you are, so horribly teased.” he gives you a few more indulgent thrusts, taking his time to enjoy every shudder and shiver he pulls from your willing body. “and you’ve been so patient, too. so perfect.”

he pulls his fingers from your body, making a deep, satisfied noise at the way your walls cling to him, as if loathe to let him go. you mourn the loss, soul singing a requiem. every moment that he is not inside of you is suffering.

“shh, i know. i know,” he hushes you, soothes you, gently caressing your skin. “let me make it up to you, my love. what does your little heart desire? just speak the words, and i shall give it to you.”

a reward. your master is gracious, kind, and perfect. even being in his presence is reward enough. but, if he truly wants to reward you… there is only one thing you crave. there is only one thing you have ever craved, and you know he craves it, too.

“control me, master,” you plead. “compel me. please. i want you to.”

“however could i say no?” something sweet and distinctly desirous shines in his eyes, and he captures your lips in a deep, drugging kiss. his control envelops you, familiar and warm as the olympian hearth. when he pulls back, you remain connected to him by a thin, shimmering strand of saliva, and by the twin sparks of lust that burn in your bellies. "my treasure."

his will wraps around you, diffuses through your limbs, and your mind quiets. there's nothing quite like this— this bliss, this pleasure. it makes you feel so, so good, just to submit, just to obey.

you feel his commands nudging at your mind, puppeting your body. saccharine devotion rises up within you, and you shudder with delight. so this is the game tonight— he wants you needy, wants you adoring, wants you fawning over his every move.

you'd give it to him even if you weren't under his thrall. such is the unconditional nature of your love. if he became a twisted, soulless version of himself, you would twist yourself to match him, and you'd pour enough soul into him to sustain him too.

"love me," he murmurs against the shell of your ear. "give me everything of you, and love me."

“yes,” you breathe, desperate supplication to the only god you know. if your master’s control had been any less potent, you would believe that you were acting of your own accord. but… this is good, too. just because he’s drawn the words from your lips doesn’t make them any less genuine. “i love you, astarion.”

“there’s my perfect little pet,” he says. something flashes across his face— something you don’t recognize, something that hints at regret. the urge to kiss the sadness from his expression is familiar, and not completely contrived. “i love you, too.”

his hands find your hips, and he finally, finally sinks inside of you. your eyes flutter shut, intent on luxuriating in this pleasure to the fullest. there is no greater joy than when astarion is inside of you, filling you, making you his. there is no greater glory than serving your master.

“astarion,” your breath catches in your throat as he rolls his hips up. his cock drags deliciously against your sensitive walls. he stimulates you mercilessly, making sure to pay attention to all of the spots that make you go weak and dizzy and pliable. you cling to him, melting against his shoulder as he thrusts up again and again and again. “i— i’m— astarion!”

“i’m here, little love,” he purrs. “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

“so good,” you say. it comes out as a soft little sob. “i— you— wait, astarion, i— oh!”

he shifts your weight in his lap, and the slightest change in angle lets him slip just a bit deeper. the tip of his cock kisses a painfully sensitive spot deep inside, and your eyes widen, shock quickly giving way to pleasure. he’s so deep. you’re so full.

“there it is,” he coos. “that’s right. look at you, taking me nice and deep. i can practically taste it, you know. how good you’re feeling.”

your body is his. he owns it. he controls it. the barest hint of a command nudges at the corner of your mind, and you let go of the lingering pain. your gaze goes unfocused, and your jaw slackens. you have never believed in an eternal paradise, but if you did, you think it might feel something like this.

“that’s it. you’re really feeling it now, aren’t you? just keep feeling good for me, darling.”

you slip in and out of lucidity, after that. your body is a livewire of sensations, melting under astarion’s gentle, sensual caresses. nothing matters besides him. it doesn’t even matter if you cum, though you’re sure you do. astarion would never let you feel anything but pleasure. he would never let you go unsatisfied. you love him, after all. this tender dance of flesh and bliss is what lovers do.

re-emerging into reality is like breaking through the fog of a lovely dream. you come to with your cheek resting against his chest, body clean and dry and delightfully sated. though you know he hasn’t had a pulse for several hundred years, you swear you hear the gentle thud of his heart beating as he traces absentminded patterns over your skin.

“did i love you well?”

“you were perfect.” a soft smile pulls at his lips. warmth floods your chest, followed by a pang of… of something. something aching, something hurt. you brush it aside. there is no room for hurt in his arms. you have loved him well. you have pleased him.

“thank you,” you murmur, a tender prayer against his skin. the last of his influence drains from your limbs, and you’re once again in full control of your own mind. the loss of his familiar presence in your mind hits you like waves crashing upon the shore. “i miss you already, master.”

he considers you with an inscrutable expression, and he sighs, warm and playfully exaggerated. again, you catch a hint of that odd, misplaced resignation. it almost makes you pout. is he unhappy with you after all? is he dissatisfied?

the need to reassure, to be reassured, drives you forward, and you pepper chaste kisses over the elegant curve of his jaw, the hollow of his throat. your sloppy adoration draws a soft laugh from his lips, and satisfaction settles in your heart once more.

“you’re so needy, darling,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours. “but i love you for it.”

the declaration soothes you— a healing balm for all of your little aches and pains. he always knows just what to say to keep you wrapped around his finger.

“i’d do anything for you,” you say, and you mean it. “i’d give anything for you. everything, all of me, for you.”

the words darken his gaze, snuffing out the spark of regret you’d sensed in his expression for good. your heart flutters. this is how your master should look— confident, powerful. satisfied. happy.

a smile curls, smoke from the ashes, on his lips. it’s sharp; it bleeds at the edges, dark and possessive. “i know, little love. all of you, for me. just as it should be.”

#writemin!#astarion x reader #astarion smut #bg3 x reader #bg3 smut #+astarion

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libraincarnate · 1 year

Text

astrology notes: 12 🏰

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences. above all this is just for fun. lastly, these may or may not apply to you but you might find something to be true about your friends, family, or lover. enjoy!

➷ capricorn/saturn doms: they absolutely won’t be an enabler. they’re big on competence and aren’t too fond of overdependent people. it’s lowkey repulsive to them when people won’t even bother trying, choose not to put in the work, or they always want/expect people to do things that they’re capable of doing for themselves. they value independence so they don’t just encourage others to be independent but they expect themselves to be independent and competent as well. otherwise they’ll put in the effort to learn. they hold themselves to the same standards they have for others.

➷ gemini in the 7th house, especially with inner planets or a stellium: for these natives, the person they end up marrying must be funny. might even be a deal breaker for them if their partner isn’t funny. they love to laugh, like to joke with they’re friends/loved ones, so they have to be able to laugh and joke with the person they’re going to spend the rest of their life with. may desire someone with a similar sense of humor. they bring an upbeat & lighthearted energy into their relationships and they need to be able to express themselves or feel comfortable enough to be themselves. communication is also of great importance in their relationships. they may want to text and talk to their favorite people all through out the day.

➷ saturn brings difficulties and challenges but there are also rewards. so if your saturn placement has only brought you trouble or hardship stay tuned to see the blessings in disguise, how/where your hard work pays off, how/where you’ll reap what you've sowed.

saturn in the 10th house - you may experience conflict with your bosses, those who are superior to you or have more authority than you. they may be condescending, a classist, a megalomaniac, or they held you back in some way. but you endure that mistreatment and later on you receive a promotion, you obtain a leadership position, maybe you take their spot. but in your new position you don’t treat your subordinates like your bosses or mentors have treated you. you’ve learned from that experience, you know what it’s like. you treat all your employees or the people working under you with the same respect, you consider and value their ideas, you give them opportunities or bonuses when deserved, they feel like you’re a good leader, they learn from you and may consider you the best boss they’ve ever had. as a result, this can contribute to a good reputation and can benefit your career.

saturn in the 2nd house - you may experience issues with your self-esteem. could be the type to look in the mirror and pick yourself apart. may be hard on yourself or too critical. perhaps you’ve been picked on or you’ve been belittled by others. but then you may start a career in the fashion/beauty industry, perhaps you become a model. because you worked through the issues that saturn presented you with regarding your confidence or your beauty, you’re now impervious to the critics, their words don’t get to you because you know yourself, you know what you’ve gone through to become a stronger person. the people who teased you now look at you with envy or admiration. you’re confident in front of casting directors, you have tough skin, you don’t compare yourself to other models, your confidence oozes through your magazine covers, you have a strong presence on the runway. and perhaps there’s a sense of professionalism about you that makes clients or designers come back for more, time after time, leading to longevity or an impressive resume or portfolio.

saturn in the 4th house - you may have been your own parent, probably felt like you had to raise yourself and your siblings. may have felt more like a parent to your parents than they were to you. you couldn’t depend on your family or mom so you we’re only able to depend on yourself. you had to be an adult when you were just a kid. your experiences here can make you feel reluctant to have children of your own. but if you do have end up having kids, you could make a great parent. yes saturn can be strict, and you may be a parent that emphasizes rules, respect, hard work, etc. but you’ll also give them the childhood experience you didn’t get to have. your upbringing/family life was hard so you want it to be better and smoother for them. they don’t have to feel the burdens of life and responsibilities so early and so harshly, they have someone they can depend on, a parent that’s always there for them. raising them to be awesome human beings with good morals, passing on the wisdom & life lessons you’ve gained, giving them the affection you didn’t receive, making home feel like a safe environment. you’re patient with them. the difficult times at home gave you experiences and lessons that make parenthood easier to handle. and that child or your children may help you heal you from those emotional wounds. you might look back on those tough times and be proud of yourself when you see the family you came from and the family you’ve created.

the themes of saturn may not always be fun but they’re necessary. and depending on the way saturn plays out in your chart, it may present you with things that you’ll later look back on and be grateful for.

➷ leo in the 12th house: may struggle with the idea of fame or popularity, shying away from the spotlight but lowkey wanting it, you daydream about getting compliments, being on stage, displaying the talents you very much have, the crowd cheering for you & enjoying your performance. egotistical thoughts & desires. struggling with self-expression, you stand out but want to hide, reminds me of this emoji 🎭, you appear happy & sunny on the outside but you feel dead inside, could express your pain through music, acting, or art. aware of the activity in your subconscious, introspective, humble, not boastful or flashy, proud of how you’ve faced adversity or overcame the suffering you experienced, you could be like a light to others who have faced similar experiences, potentially leading them out of their suffering. seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, you may have the tendency to remain hopeful despite everything you’ve endured.

➷ virgos remind me of cats because they’re always cleaning/grooming themselves. they constantly check their nails making sure they’re free of dirt & looking nice, they smell good, their clothes fit well and look presentable, primping their hair, making sure their skin isn’t dry/ashy, checking for nose/eye boogers, etc. idk about you guys but they’re the type of person i��d sleep with, like thank you for not being dusty and respecting me & my body. you guys know that saying “common sense isn’t so common” ? well neither is proper basic hygiene or cleanliness so i don't blame them for their tendencies.

➷ mercury dominants: probably good at typing and they type fast. may enjoy typing and testing their typing speed, trying to beat their previous wpm, and they may like writing by hand just because it can be calming. naturally good with their hands, sewing, cooking, building, doing hair, drawing, etc. random but probably good at untangling things like necklaces.

➷ mars in the 6th house: once they get going, they work nonstop. they want to get everything done at once. the type to do things one after another with short breaks or none at all. they may take on more than they can handle and force themselves to complete all their tasks but that’s because they can be so driven and hardworking. the types to take their work home with them. this can be detrimental for their health but for employers this is someone you’d most likely want to hire.

➷ your lilith sign may show you where you have scars (including surgery scars), where you often get cuts/wounds/pain, or the body part you obsess over because you see flaws:

gemini - hands, arms, shoulders

pisces - feet

capricorn - knees, joints

leo - heart, back, hair

cancer - chest/breasts

aries - head, face, eyes

➷ chiron in aquarius: may have experienced troubling friendships, or losing a lot of friends. loyal to a fault, you put great effort into your relationships, maybe you were more considerate, more eager to be their friend, and you’re probably a good, genuine friend but the love and energy you showed them wasn’t reciprocated or they suddenly turned on you.

➷ stewie from family guy has to have prominent capricorn & aquarius placements. he’s sarcastic, funny with a dry sense of humor, so damn smart, smarter than his peers, wise beyond his years, inventive, independent, ambitious, great with technology & he has so many cool devices & gadgets, he’s a baby but he’s mature, logical, and his personality makes him appear older than he looks. hmm, probably some scorpio or aries in his chart too because he’s also revengeful, holds grudges, strategic, driven, and can be violent. despite his possible aquarius placements, his main and constant friend has been the family dog brian who is mature and much older (56 in dog years) than stewie. he must have some stuff going on in his 4th house too, he basically hates his family & he's so mean to them, especially his mom 😂 maybe he has mars in his 4th house. he’s straightforward & tends to be condescending and harsh/rude. he also likes to be in control & he’s an initiator which may be due to the cardinal energy if he does any have capricorn and aries placements.

➷ gemini rising/mercury, sag rising/mercury: because you're so funny & sarcastic people may not take you or your words seriously because they always think you're joking. others can be shocked when you have to take it up a notch to show them you’re serious cause they don’t see that side of you often. your reaction is unexpected. but you also don't take life seriously either. with that being said, it’s rare to see these natives fuming especially with more reserved moon signs or those that like to be in control like capricorn, virgo, and scorpio moon.

➷ taurus in the 6th house: may be prone to procrastination and being messy. taurus is often described as lazy or not quick to act, so they might not be the types to put things back where they got it from or they clean up in a half-assed manner. and they’re stubborn so if they don’t want to do something or they want to do it later, it may be hard to dissuade them. i’ve also noticed they tend to have stable employment & this is partly due to their great work ethic and determination. they always have a job, if they’re unemployed it’s not for long, or they've worked at the same job for many years making it a huge part of their career and resume.

➷ pluto in the 7th house: may be possessive of their relationships. not just romantic relationships, but their relationships with those who are important or closest to them. best friend, family, etc. you’re their favorite person so they want to be your favorite person. if they have a best friend, they don't want that person to have other best friends, they want to be the closest person to them. i also think this stems from a place of control & fear. they don’t get close to a lot of people but they’ve opened up to a few selected people & shared some of their secrets with them, so they don’t want the people they’ve trusted to potentially share those things with others or to form stronger bonds with other people because they might leave them for someone else, and other reasons.

➷ 9th house ruler in the 5th house: sunday school teacher for children, arts/fashion school, may have played sports in college/university, a division 1 or 2 school maybe, a sports coach, possibly a hedonist, popular in school, interested in child development, learning could be something you enjoy, confident in your intelligence, creating and planning fun trips, proud of your academic achievements, lots of college parties & hookups, having a pleasurable and memorable college experience, the type to either put fun before their studies or to go to class late & still drunk from the night before but you excel anyways, inspired by different cultures, could be good at playing games like chess.

9th house ruler in the 8th house - religious trauma, a natural interest in the occult or esoteric spiritual practices, may study finance or business, well versed in psychology, may be a therapist, mortuary school, challenging the law, unpleasant or negative experiences with spirits, someone who possesses profound knowledge, people may ask you, “how do you know that stuff?” may teach others about sex & the reproductive systems like sexual education, sharing your knowledge about astrology, could have spiritual experiences with drugs or psychedelic plants like shrooms, cannabis, or ayahuasca.

9th house ruler in the 11th house - science over spirituality, studying politics, could like traveling or going on vacation with your friends, an atheist, could be the wisest one or religious one in your friend group, the friend people go to for advice, philanthropic/generous, might’ve gone to trade school, took online/virtual classes, received alternative education other than the traditional college/university, part of a sorority/fraternity, interested in astronomy, big dreams, wanting to make an impact in the world, possessing knowledge & ideas that could change the world in some way.

➷ empty 2nd house: may not have a lot of personal belongings, most of the things you have were given to you or someone purchased them for you, you can be low-maintenance, not really having any personal income, but you may have money from other sources like an inheritance or a benefactor, or you rely on your family or government assistant for your financial needs, others might pay your bills, may dislike shopping, might not cook often, a simple wardrobe, nothing too fancy, not materialistic, could be indifferent towards money, you’re not impressed by it.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #libraincarnate

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seleniangnosis · 4 months

Text

Pile I Pile II Pile III

What is the end of the year bringing to you? What is changing for you ? We all work hard each year to accomplish specific goals and whether it works as we planned or not, there is always something we can be proud of 🥀🧧

This is a general reading, so take what resonates and/or applies to your situation/ life circumstances ᝰ.ᐟ

Pile I

Hi there pile I and welcome to your reading 🥀🧧

Your main card here is 7 of wands here. You have put some effort into personal development I hear, you have faced setbacks or refusals in terms of making (maybe) a business connection, or collaborating with others. People you worked alongside with, or some around you, might have not fully supported you along the way.

What is changing this year for you has to do with personal power and achievements. You picked yourself up, stood your ground and didn't let disappointment make you give up. Rewards here I see being mostly "quiet ones". You recognising your own strength, being proud of yourself, more hopeful that no matter what you face, you can succeed and some financial abundance as well.

For some, I'm getting that people who harmed you, or are owning you something will pay back in some way, whether it is real money they own you, or a metaphorical "pay".

Your connection with other will improve too. Maybe you let those unsupportive people in 2023, and are ready to meet new people, new business partners.

You have overcome a lot this year, negative habits, negative people, and will reap the fruits of your own labour. People will learn not to take advantage of you anymore.

In fewer words, your 2024 will be about personal power, confidence and strength.

Thank you for reading, and wish you all the best in the upcoming year ✨️🫶🏻

Pile II

Hi there pile II and welcome to your reading 🥀🧧

When picking your cards I heard emotional stability for this pile, so for some of you this can be the main and actual theme.

You might have worked towards that for a long time, and it took a long time to reach this point, and now it finally here.

For others, and probably most of you, this is about security in general. You worked hard to live a more secure, happy and fulfilled life, and you will get to see this happening in the next year. You will see life with a new pair of eyes this year.

Your life will look better to you, and you will be more satisfied with different opportunities opening up, or simply by living in the comfort you wished to all this time. This will make you a person who can extend their hand to others as well, and maybe offer some help or advice, or be more present for those closest to you/ your family, spending some quality time with them, etc.

Thank you for reading, and wish you all the best in the upcoming year ✨️🫶🏻

Pile III

Hi there pile III and welcome to your reading 🥀🧧

Why is pile 3 always the cryptic one haha. My cards don't really want to give any specific details on what this is about, but I have big cards, and they show a drastic change, a new route, something you might have been waiting to happen.

Maybe there are different things each one of you wish to happen, so that's why my reading is so 'general'.

This could be about something you struggled with for a long time, or a person. It's something you wished and hoped for to happen, its a change that you ptobably won't see coming.

You will be a totally different person. There will be rapid growth and improvement with this new path.

I don't get much of this being about a person... but rather a choice you will make for your growth. It's possible that you will meet someone along the way, but I don't see something romantic in nature.

Most I can see is a choice, and then stability on the other side. You seem to have went through some disappointments and are done with this. New year new me really suits you ✨️.

Last thing I heard while doing your reading was " wait and you'll see!" ✨️☁️

Thank you for reading, and wish you all the best in the upcoming year ✨️🫶🏻

#tarot reading #pac reading #pick a card #pick a picture #tarot cards #tarotblr #tarotcommunity #pick a pile #tarot #tarot pac #tarot spreads

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lucid-loves · 3 months

Note

Hello

I have a request for ghost a one shot where the reader is a member of 141 and she falls for him

You got it! ❤

Come a Little Closer

Pairing: Ghost x 141!reader (fem!reader)

Word Count: 5.3k, One-Shot

CW: strong language, fluff, bullying, slight mention of violence, one-shot, clear attraction

Let me know if I missed any CWs.

Story Synopsis: You have just joined the 141 and getting to know the boys has been a lot of fun. The only one that you seem to be having trouble getting close to is Ghost. It doesn’t stop you from having a crush on him or trying to catch his attention any chance you get.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

“Welcome to Task Force 141! I’m sure that you will find this team much more fitting to work with given your skills.” Price congratulated you as he escorted you to the base’s leisure room. Many of the soldiers hung around there to relax with drinks, television, billiards, and other games. The 141 was no exception.

You had been struggling with your assigned team on base. Teamwork and trust wasn’t there. A lot of it stemmed from jealousy as you demonstrated much better skills then they had on missions. You usually ended up taking home all the glory. However, the full picture was that the others often made mistakes or overlooked things. It wasn’t your fault that you were a perfectionist when it came to your job.

They still tried to make your life on base difficult in petty ways. Trashing your room in the barracks, stealing your clothes while you showered, bumping into you on purpose. It was very clear that the team you were assigned to before was full of people that peaked in high school and thought that the military was an easy way to make money despite being intelligently average at best.

Not you, though. You worked hard. You dedicated your time to getting better each day. You stuck to your work with maturity. Thankfully, Price noticed this pretty quickly when he was looking at recruit files. Nothing out of pity either since he didn’t know about the bullying. You didn’t report any of the bullying to anyone in order to keep peace and establish your maturity.

And now, you are reaping the rewards. Being assigned to the 141 team was a fresh start. When you walked into the leisure room, almost everyone looked up at you. Women didn’t often come into the room because it resembled something more like a man-cave. Beer bottles everywhere, sports usually on the TV, and a strong, masculine energy that often made women too uncomfortable to visit.

You, on the other hand, found it exciting. You really wanted to hang with the big boys. Earn your place. Prove to everyone that you deserve to be on the base and a part of the 141 as their newest member. That started with getting to know your new teammates.

Gaz, Soap, and Ghost were surrounding a pool table, clearly in the middle of a game. Whoever was solids was getting absolutely destroyed. When Price and you got closer, they stood at attention. Price waved his hand, putting them at ease. “Men, this is our new member. She has incredible skills that are sure to add to our team’s strength. A sharp-shooter, highly intelligent, and great with hand-to-hand combat.”

You smiled brightly as you finally introduced yourself. It was time to make a great impression. Plus, you already felt like you could be yourself while doing it. “Y/n. Thank you for this opportunity. My condolences as well to you, Soap.”

Soap raised a brow in confusion, clearly not understanding what you were talking about. “Pardon?”

“Your loss. At billiards. What a brutal way to lose too. You might as well give up now and give Gaz the betting money.” You smirked, eyeing the expressions light up at your quick-wit and observation skills. Gaz and Soap were the only ones holding pool sticks. A couple bills rested on the side of the table. Their expressions before they noticed you and Price gave away who was winning and who was losing.

“Well, the newbie is sharp. You should listen to her while you still have your dignity, Johnny.” Gaz laughed, already accepting you fully into the team. Soap shot him a glare before turning to you with a mischievous look on his face.

“You think you can turn this game around for me, y/n?” He inquired, pool stick already being held out to you. Smiling like a kid on Christmas, you took the stick to play.

Kyle was quick to protest Soap’s sly move. “That’s cheating! Don’t make her do your dirty work for you, Soap. Just take the loss, bruv.”

You fished your wallet out from your back pocket, taking out a few bills of your own to add to the betting pool. “How about this? If I can beat Gaz by starting off with Soap’s miserable disadvantage, I get all the money. If I don’t, then Gaz takes all.”

Soap and Gaz looked to each other, and then to Ghost who just sat in his stool, overlooking the entire game as their referee in a sense. He’s been watching the situation unfold carefully even since you walked into the room. You caught his eye when you entered. Not many women were working at the base in general, let alone waltzing into a presumed boys-only club like you have always belonged. Not only that, your deduction skills were sharp. Your smile was optimistic. You seemed to have no fear in any of the changes you were going through.

Out of curiosity to see if you could put your money where your mouth was, he nodded. His deep, rich voice lit a little fire inside you as he finally spoke. “I’ll allow it.”

You took the stick from Soap and looked at the table, examining your situation entirely. Everything was considered as you planned your move. The position of your remaining balls, Gaz’s, even the weight of the stick in your hand. Doing the mental math, you carefully lined up a shot, your form perfect and deliberate. The margin of error wasn’t something to scoff at. You were a perfectionist when it came to your job, after all. This, you considered to be part of your job.

As you posed yourself on the table for the shot, Ghost couldn’t help but look over your form. Neither could most of the other guys in the room since women coming in was rare, but his opinion mattered the most. You were on his team now. He was going to be working with you nearly every day from here on out.

And damn, did you look fine bending over the table like that.

You took a deep breath as you struck the cue ball, having it hop over Gaz’s stripe in front of it to hit the solids behind. From the force, the solids scattered, three of them sinking based on pure luck. You stood up from your position, satisfied from your play. Bewildered expressions looked between you and the game. “Your move, Garrick.”

And just like that, you earned more respect from your team. Price chuckled at Kyle’s nervous look, now realizing that he was probably going to lose all his money if your skills and luck withstood for the rest of the game. It seemed like he had nothing to worry about when it came to you. You fit right in like a piece of their puzzle.

The following several weeks have been a blast for you. You have gotten close to your team in a way that made the base feel more like home to you. They helped you train, gave you pointers, invited you to meals, and played all the games you wanted to play. Except, they no longer wanted to put money on the table lest you rob them blind.

The relationship between everyone was a breath of fresh air for you as well. No fighting, no bullying, no arguments. They clearly respected each other. They respected you too. There was teasing a lot of the time, but it was all out of friendliness and brotherhood.

The only thing you were wary about was Ghost. You’ve caught him staring at you on occasion, his eyes giving nothing away once you noticed his gaze. He didn’t talk to you much either. But you knew that he noticed you. You knew when too, given that you were growing attracted to him.

Ghost has always been a legend around the base. He had impressive records of nearly every scoreboard around the training centers. Tales of his missions spread like wildfire each time he would return from deployment. The rest of the team was equally as impressive as well. Yet, there tended to be more of a buzz when it came to Ghost. Part of it was due to his expertise. Another part of it was the mystery of the skull mask he always wore. The last part of it was his physique. He was huge compared to a lot of the guys around here.

You were no exception to the admiration bandwagon. Seeing Ghost’s records and hearing the stories actually inspired you to hang in there with training. You aimed to be strong, resolute, and confident in work just as he is. However, that was purely a muse infatuation. Nothing more than looking at him as a prime example of what a soldier should be. Now, you began to see him differently.

It started with the little things. Subtle shifts in his body language, changes in tone when circumstances changed. You took notice of those things as a means to find a way into getting more friendly with him. As you continued to observe, however, you felt your body reacting more to his being. The way he towers over you with his massive frame. The way his muscles flex with each movement when you sparred. The way his fingers lightly brush against yours when you hand him completed paperwork.

There were moments of chivalry from Ghost too that never failed to make your heart hammer inside your chest. He’s caught you from losing your balance when you tried to reach for a file that was too high on a shelf a couple of times. His hands would instinctively grab your waist, pull you close to him, and anchor himself to stay steady from the force of your fall. He never failed to ask you if you were okay as well in that baritone voice you began to get butterflies from. It didn’t take long until he began reaching for things you needed for you after those instances.

Ghost has also taken up the habit of always opening the car door for you, making sure you could get your spot sitting in the middle without having to crawl over anyone. Even in instances of realistic training, having to rush into a vehicle as quickly as they could, Ghost always made sure the door was open for you to get in first. The close proximity to him given how small the backseat usually was contributed to your growing crush on him too.

On the surface, Ghost never seemed to mind helping you out. Many of his new habits were taken upon himself once he began working with you. Yet, he still never really talked much to you and you could never decipher his staring. It made you worried that he was growing resentment over feeling like he needed to help you out with the mundane.

Ghost still had a strong wall when it came to you. However, you were determined to break it down.

It was the first Saturday night back on base after a tense, two-week long deployment. For the first time, the 141 saw you in action. You picked things up quick, you followed orders to a tee, and you were spot-on with your sniper. It certainly helped the team get things done, but it didn’t stop the mission from being long and dangerous. There were a couple of medical scares, plenty of gunfire, and a few secrets revealed. It didn’t end until you put a bullet through the target’s brain.

So, the team wanted to decompress on their first Saturday back on base. They also wanted to congratulate you for getting the final snipe on the terrorist leader they were hunting. It was your first deployment with them, something that also deserved to be celebrated too.

The team headed out to a nearby bar. A hole-in-the-wall kind of place that not a lot of people knew about. A classic place with an old-school jukebox, war-plane memorabilia, and a simple bar menu. After buying you your first couple of drinks, the men began to disperse to socialize and see if they could get a little lucky tonight. All except for you and Ghost who sat quietly at the bar, drinks in hand. The silence between the two of you was awkward at first. At this point, you have never been in a casual setting alone with him. You were either working with him or the rest of the boys were with you.

However, to say nothing would be a wasted opportunity. Even if being alone with him made you feel gooey inside like a school-girl with her first crush, you still wanted to know him better. Soap had given you good information about him to use too.

Casually, you took a slow slip of your liquid courage. “Johnny says you have a good sense of humor.”

Underneath the mask, Ghost quirked a brow. He didn’t realize that you talked about him with his teammates when he wasn’t around. He wondered what else you talked about when he couldn’t be there with you. For now, he played along. “It’s dark humor. Probably not your cup of tea.”

When he looked at you, he saw a bright light. Clever, ambitious, brave. Ultimately sweet too. Along with him acting chivalrous for you, you have been considerate of him as well. You often brought tea to the team, but Ghost’s cup was always different. You always brought his favorite tea flavored exactly how he liked it. Everyone else liked theirs plain. He liked his with a little milk.

You have also tidied his desk a few times after he complained about not finding something he needed. He never knew how it would get so messy. Before he knew it, his desk would look like a tornado ran through it. However, you would straighten it just enough for him to find what he needs. Enough to jog his memory of where he put it down without having to look through unfamiliar organization.

In his mind, you were someone that needed to be protected for the darkness of the world. Starting with himself and his dark humor.

Still, you persisted. “Try me.”

Ghost looked at you for a moment, causing your heart to skip a beat. You could see him contemplating something. Fortunately, he let you have this one. After the past two weeks, you deserved just a little glimpse into who Ghost really was as a person. “Why don’t blind people skydive?”

“Why?” You grinned, eager to hear the punchline. Finally, you were talking with Ghost like this!

“Scare the shit out of their dogs.” He finished, taking a sip of his bourbon while waiting for your reaction. He expected you to scrunch your nose up in disgust or give a fake laugh just to humor him.

Instead, he was graced with your genuine laughter. You actually found the joke pretty hilarious. “Damn, that’s pretty good! Alright, I got one for you. Why did Sally fall off the swingset?”

A small smile crept along his face as you began your own joke. “Why?”

“She doesn’t have any arms. Here’s another one. Knock knock.” You continued, not feeling at all discouraged by his lack of laughter at the first joke. The second half was always better.

“Who’s there?” He followed along.

“Not Sally.” You finished, earning yourself an honest chuckle out of him. This was the first time you have seen him smile and laugh. The sight made you feel warm and fuzzy. Slowly, the crush you had was turning into something more. You actually imagined a future with him for a second.

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts, garnering your full, undivided attention just as he gave you his. “That was actually pretty funny. I’ll give you that one.”

Before Ghost knew it, his walls were crumbling down as you exchanged jokes and laughter with him. His own curiosity about you was turning into something that he didn’t think he would ever have for himself.

You and Ghost had been growing closer ever since breaking the ice at the bar. He felt more comfortable talking to you casually, you felt more comfortable asking for his help, and there was more peace within yourself as you learned that Ghost never harbored resentment towards you. He was just a little rough around the edges.

For some reason, that made him even more attractive to you. The thought that you have actually been able to get his guard down around you had you chipper than a songbird in the morning. You’ve been eating up his special attention too. Every time the team went out, Ghost and you would always find the time to talk. Just the two of you. It had you over the moon each time.

Despite your growing feelings, you kept them to yourself. You didn’t want to ruin the peace that you have so carefully inserted yourself into. You didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship with him as well. It took a lot of time to get to where you were at with him. Being open about your love for him wasn’t worth the risk.

However, it didn’t stop you from daydreaming. You often found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like if Ghost was your boyfriend. You haven’t seen his face yet or used his real name even though you already knew it. Yet, you knew that he was devilishly handsome and his name would feel incredibly on your lips. You wondered what kind of pet name he would pick out for you if he was the type.

You even thought about what he may be like between the sheets. It was hard not to imagine it when you sparred, feeling just how powerful he could be when it came to getting what he wanted.

Jesus, you were down so bad for him.

Your daydreaming continued as you showered in the community bathroom. It was late at night, most soldiers already turned in for the night. You had just gotten back from another great night at the bar with your team. Humming and bathing, you didn’t even notice the door to the bathrooms open up.

Once you were all done, you wrapped a towel around yourself and stepped out of the stall in order to grab your clothes. However, you were surprised to see that they were missing. This kind of thing hasn’t happened in a while. You nearly forgot that it did since you were having such a great time with your new team.

How could your old teammates still hate you after being gone already too? To even go as far as to pull this kind of shit again?

You sighed in frustration, looking around the bathroom to see if the culprits were still hanging around. When you found no one, you tightened the towel around your torso and prepared to head to your room as quickly and quietly as possible.

The barrick halls were quiet save for a few snores from behind locked doors. Your hair was dripping water along the beige tiles. The stone was cold under your bare feet. The halls seemed freshly waxed too. If you weren’t careful, you could genuinely fall and break your neck.

As you carefully made your way to your room, you could hear footsteps behind you. As soon as he called your name, your cheeks began to turn red in embarrassment.

Ghost was taken aback by your appearance. You were in nothing but a blue towel, dripping hair creating a slipping hazard in your path. In and outside of work, you were careful to keep up appearances. You didn’t seem like the type to shower and walk the halls nude.

It would be a lie if the only feeling he had was concern, though. At the same time, his feelings of attraction towards you began to stir. Something that has been getting harder to fight since meeting you.

You gave a nervous laugh, refusing to turn around to face him. This was mortifying. “H-Hey! I forgot my clothes back in my room. Guess I had one too many from earlier. My room isn’t much farther now. So. . . what are you doing here in this part of the barracks?”

From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a wallet. Your wallet. You haven’t even noticed that it was missing. “Found this in the backseat of the car. Figured that you would be missing it sooner rather than later.”

Now, you were hoping that someone would assassinate you to save you from embarrassment. Perhaps your white lie earlier was actually a little true. More importantly, it felt like Ghost was giving you no choice but to completely turn around. But, you couldn’t possibly face him like this. Face on fire, heart racing, breath shuttering. What started as a fun night was now one of your most humiliating ones.

“Thanks, Ghost. . . Do uh. . . Do you think you can hand it to me after I change?” You scrambled, trying to find the most graceful solution to your predicament. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see Ghost avert his gaze and give you a nod, trying to give you as much privacy as he could given the circumstances.

Awkwardly, he followed you to your room, trying not to completely violate you with his eyes. It was difficult trying to determine what was enough distance to put between the two of you. Ghost wanted to be right next to you, shielding you from the world as you were obviously very uncomfortable. At the same time, he didn’t want to upset you by crossing a boundary.

On top of that, he really wanted to see what was under that fluffy towel of yours. It was an involuntary thought, but he still felt horrible about it.

Finally, you approached your room and took out the key that you made a habit of hiding in your shower caddy rather than with your clothes. However, it became apparent that despite having locked the door, it didn’t stop anyone from invading your space.

When you opened the door and turned on the light, you revealed a complete disaster. Bedsheets ripped to shreds, mattress stained with beer, personal belongings destroyed. Even family pictures that you so delicately framed on your walls were scattered along the floor, broken glass everywhere. Your dresser had been rifled with as well, all of your clothes ruined from various stains, rips, and wrinkles.

Everything was damaged. All of it. And you didn’t understand why. It has never been this bad before. Why now?

When Ghost noticed that you haven’t walked into your room yet, frozen in a state of shock, he finally walked over. He nearly took a step back himself when he noticed all the damage. He’s never seen anything like this before. It made him upset immediately.

No, not just upset. Furious. How could anyone think this was okay? How could anyone do this to you?! Ghost clenched his fists and his jaw, trying not to explode with fury. At first, he wanted to make his anger be known for all the barracks to see. He wanted to call everyone out of their rooms and force a confession. He would then beat the absolute shit out of the culprit right in front of everyone.

However, that’s not what you needed right now. It’s probably not what you would’ve wanted either. Over the time he’s spent with you, he has realized that you preferred logical, calm, and peaceful solutions. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself or anyone else from calling attention to mistakes. You took care of things with grace. Yet now, you looked like you were going to fall apart.

Ghost was quick to realize that this wasn’t a sudden attack based on your expression. This was something that you have been dealing with for a while. It just got to its worst tonight. If he had to guess, he would guess that you hadn’t just forgotten your clothes back in your room either. He wouldn’t be surprised if they were stolen.

The fucking bullies were gonna make you walk around the whole base naked. Ghost really wanted to kill someone now.

But first, he had to take care of you. Swiftly, he removed his jacket and draped it over your shoulders, covering you up as best as he could. Your attention trained on the disaster that was your room slowly began to shift towards Ghost as the warmth of his jacket seeped into your chilly shoulders. Gingerly, he draped wrapped his arm around you, using his body to cover you up even more. “Let’s go, love. I’ll take care of you.”

Needing comfort, you followed Ghost closely, not minding at all how close he was pressed to you as you walked side by side. His warmth was welcomed as you shivered from the chill of being nude and the shock of losing your valuables. With the pace you kept up with, it didn’t take long for the both of you to approach the door to a different room across the base.

Ghost’s room.

He unlocked the door and ushered you in, making sure that no one saw you out in the hallways. Once the coast was clear, he closed the door and turned on the light. Compared to his desk, his room was pretty clean. His bed was made perfectly, his clothes were all put away, and his TV stand was free of clutter. The whole room smelled of him too. Teakwood, leather, and bourbon.

You almost couldn’t believe it. You were really inside of Ghost’s room, a place that not even the other 141 men have ever been in. As you looked around, Ghost went through his dresser for suitable clothes for you. Soon after he began looking, he picked out one of his shirts and adjustable pajama pants to wear. “Here. I’ll turn my back.”

Silently, you began to dress in his clothes, your senses flooding even more with everything that was Ghost. The t-shirt and pants were large on your frame, but they were warm and soft. It covered you well enough too. As soon as you were done, Ghost turned back around. Once he saw you, it was like his breath was stolen straight from his lungs. He didn’t think that you would look so good in his clothes. As oversized on you as they were, he still found it perfect.

He cleared his throat, regaining his composure at the sight of you. You yourself were feeling restless about being in his private space. The way he looked at you, the way he protected you, and the way he held you made you really realize that you definitely had more than a crush on him. You fell in love with him.

With each gesture that he made towards you, you fell even deeper for him. You could hardly find the words to say back when he spoke so softly towards you. “Take my bed tonight, love. We’ll get you squared away with a new room first thing tomorrow.”

Not wanting to make you feel more uncomfortable than you probably already were, Ghost attempted to make his way out. However, you grabbed the back of his shirt, making him freeze. You couldn’t just take his space without at least sharing some gratitude. You were grateful, and he deserved to know it. Besides that, you saw this as more of an opportunity to be with him. You were getting greedy. “Thank you, Simon. But. . . do you mind staying? If you want to leave after I fall asleep, that’s fine. I just. . . don’t want to be alone tonight.”

At the sound of his name upon your lips, he melted. He could feel all of his insides heat up as you said his real name. As dangerous as it was now to be alone with you, he could never say no. Not when you asked him like that.

“Get into bed. I’ll turn off the light.” He agreed. Relief washed over you as he reached for the light switch and waited. As soon as you got into his bed, cozied up in soft, clean sheets, the room went dark.

You could hear the shifting of clothes as he changed into something more comfortable. With the moonlight shining through the window, you could just make out his broad, bare chest, strong shoulders, and scars along his toned body. You hoped he didn’t notice you staring as he got changed, your gaze not even breaking once as he began unbuckling his belt. A part of you was hoping that he would crawl into bed with you half naked like that.

After he threw on some pajama pants and a cotton t-shirt, he reached for his mask. For a moment, he contemplated taking it off. You were still in the room with him after all. Was he ready to show you his face, even in the dark?

Finally, he decided that he was. Not just ready to show you, but ready to pursue you too. You’ve earned everything from him. His respect, his praise, his space, and his trust. You even earned his heart as he realized that he had fallen for you. His bright light. The perfect puzzle piece in his life. It was scary how seamless you seemed to insert yourself right into his life and his team. However, he wasn’t going to take it for granted. You belonged with them. With him.

Whoever wanted to mess with that was going to face Ghost’s wrath. Starting tomorrow after he helped you get a new room.

Now, he removed his mask, revealing how right you were about him being devilishly handsome. His defined jaw, his perfect lips, his silky blonde hair. You could shower it all with kisses if you could.

He got into bed with you after the mask was off, his body heat immediately warming up the bed. Still keeping some comfortable boundaries, Simon made sure to leave some space between the two of you. You didn’t mind it. You were just happy to have gotten this far with him. Perhaps having a romantic relationship with him wasn’t completely off the table after all.

When he finally settled in, you whispered good night. “Really, Simon, thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, love. Just try to sleep tonight.” He humbly brushed off, his heart bursting at the seams with how sweet you sounded in your gratitude. He couldn’t seem to stop himself from calling you by the new, truthful nickname either. Something that your own heart couldn’t get enough of.

It didn’t take you long to fall asleep, the comfort of Simon being with you like this much too nice to fight. Once he knew you were fast asleep, he began to try to rest as well. Eventually, he took the risk and wrapped his arms around you while he slept. He normally had a hard time sleeping. Nightmares usually kept him up. However, tonight was different. He felt more at ease with you even if you did make his heart race at the same time. For the first time in a long time, he managed to have a good night’s sleep.

All it took was to have you in his arms.

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ghcstao3 · 6 months

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If you can, will you be able to do a sugar daddy au! Of Ghostsoap? If that’s okay with you!!! :)

i think i can manage that. Possibly. hope this is alright :)

Despite managing to build a wealth Simon never could’ve imagined having as a child born into a lower class family, he still finds himself terribly frugal.

Which, he knows, isn’t inherently bad. But he has more money than he knows what to do with—even donating as much as possible, putting it towards his company, whatever—and his refusal to shake old habits only serves to make him feel more and more guilty about it.

Then comes along a certain John MacTavish. Simon never anticipated becoming some sort of… sugar daddy, in becoming rich, but something about Johnny makes him want to spend every last bit on the man.

John comes into his life unexpectedly. Being that Simon’s face is unknown to most, the public, anyone who isn’t his family or close friend, it’s no surprise that John doesn’t know who he is when sidling up to Simon at a bar—and Simon chooses to embrace that. Always does, because these things are never longterm.

He indulges in John’s flirting with ease—the man is handsome, young, charming. The drawl of his Scottish brogue more than pleasant on the ears. But there’s something different about the man—different enough to make Simon forgo the idea of booking a hotel room for where this night was surely going, and instead offer to take John home.

It’s the best decision he ever makes.

Simon quickly finds that there’s something addictive about John. And not just because of that night’s activities, no—the way he’s blunt but not rude, the way he’s terribly quick at being able to understand how to make a person comfortable, the way he doesn’t give two shits that Simon has money money.

But just because he doesn’t care certainly doesn’t mean he doesn’t reap the rewards, no—because, fuck, if Simon doesn’t love spending money on John. And though he argues the first time Simon buys him something relatively expensive, Simon can tell John kind of… relishes in it as well.

John mentions something he’s interested in offhand? Simon will get it to him the next day. John mentions wanting to get a gift for a friend’s birthday but not knowing if he can afford it? Simon hands John his credit card and tells him to get whatever he needs.

And the first time Simon is going away on a business trip since they get together? He leaves John an envelope with his own credit card attached to Simon’s accounts.

Being affluent helps with what some might called his generosity, but Simon just sees the gifts and vacations and general splurging on John as a necessity.

The idea of ever spending so much on himself and Simon might have a heart attack. But on John? It never even seems like enough.

#ask #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghost mw2 #soap mw2 #ghost x soap #soapghost #ghoap #ghostsoap #writing #alternate universe

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breelandwalker · 9 months

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Sturgeon Moon - August 1, 2023

Buckle up, witches - with two supermoons in store, August is gonna be a wild ride!

Sturgeon Supermoon - August 1, 2023

The Sturgeon Moon is the name given to the first full moon in August. The name comes from the plentiful numbers of sturgeon which appear around this time of year.

Sturgeons are living prehistoric relics, examples of which appear in the fossil record as far back as 200 million years ago. Today, they are endangered due to overfishing, pollution, and habitat loss, but giant sturgeons growing up to 12ft (3.65m) long were once a common sight in the Great Lakes and Lake Champlain in North America.

Other North American Indigenous names for this moon include Flying Up Moon (Cree), Corn Moon (Algonquin and Ojibwe), Harvest Moon (Dakota), Dry Moon (Catawba), Mountain Shadows Moon (Tlingit), and Black Cherries Moon (Assiniboine). European names for this moon include Haymaking Moon (Norse), Lightning Moon (English), and Grain Moon (Anglo-Saxon).

It's also interesting to note that in China, the seventh full moon of the lunar year is called the Hungry Ghost Moon, during which spirits of departed ancestors visit their relatives and homes, and trickster spirits may cause mayhem among the living if not properly appeased. Food offerings and incense are put out for ancestor spirits, families visit gravesites to offer prayers and site maintenance, and festival dances and floating lanterns celebrate the honored dead. In 2023, the Hungry Ghost Moon month will take place from August 16th to September 14th, beginning and ending on the new moons.

Blue Supermoon - August 30, 2023

Blue moons can occur when a full moon appears twice in a calendar month or four times in a season, as opposed to the usual three. August's Blue Supermoon is an example of the former, falling on the night of August 30-31 and peaking around 9:36pm EST.

This blue supermoon is especially notable, since it's the closest that our beloved satellite has been so far this year. The next time the moon will be this close to Earth again will be November 5, 2025, and we won't see another Blue Moon until August 19, 2024.

What Does It Mean For Witches?

Both blue moons and supermoons are particularly advantageous times for spellwork, especially that which involves the fulfillment of goals, desires, and wishes, or the culmination of long-term plans. It's also a great time to start new projects and set new goals for the fall and winter.

Blue moons carry your magical workings forward with a little dash of extra strength and vigor, and may provide extra clarity during divination or reflection. It's also the perfect time for spells related to second chances and abundance, drawing in that much-needed do-over or extra bit of luck or prosperity you've been needing.

What Witchy Things Can We Do?

In August, we harvest one set of crops and sow another, reaping the rewards of our previous efforts and planting the seeds of future success. Look back on the magical workings you've done so far this year - how are they working out? Have any of your spells manifested in especially notable results? Go back and add to your notes, making sure to record anything that worked particularly well.

Evaluate your progress and reflect on what you want to carry forward and what you might need to put on hold or just let go for the time being. If you're partial to divination, a reading may help to provide some additional clarity on your current status, as well as some perspective on the possibilities for the near future.

Celebrate the harvest of grain and corn with your favorite recipes or a summer picnic. This year's August moon falls on Lughnasadh, also called Lammas, and the baking of bread and corn cakes are traditional for this occasion. But don't just limit yourself to corn and wheat! Late summer fruits are also ripe and make a tasty addition to any table.

Set your intentions and your goals for the latter part of the year and start preparing for the autumn and winter. It may seem silly to prepare for the cold when the weather is still blazing hot, but it will be here before you know it. Take time for one more summer beach trip or camping excursion before the hustle and bustle of the fall sets in.

The observation of the blue moon as a magical occasion is a modern addition to witchcraft, but the lack of antiquity doesn't mean there's any shortage of metaphysical potential!

Dive into your stash of blue clothes and accessories for some color magic. (Blue is generally associated with peace, harmony, understanding, clarity, and truth.) Set out a big jug of potable water to catch the light of these double supermoons - it will be great for cleansing, protection, wish-making, and drinkable potion bases later!

All in all, August is supercharged with lunar energy and primed for magical workings, so make your spells count!

Happy Sturgeon Moon, witches! 🌕🐟

Further Reading:

Additional Lunar Calendar posts by Bree NicGarran

Sturgeon Full and Blue Moon: August 2023, The Old Farmer's Almanac.

Sturgeon Moon 2023: The Unique Supermoon Meaning of August, The Peculiar Brunette.

Blue Moon Meaning and Astonishing Spiritual Secrets in 2023, The Peculiar Brunette.

Hungry Ghost Festival, China Travel, June 20 2023.

Sturgeon, Wikipedia Article.

Lughnasadh, Wikipedia Article.

Everyday Moon Magic: Spells & Rituals for Abundant Living, Dorothy Morrison, Llewellyn Publications, 2004.

Image Credit: "Leaping Gulf Sturgeon," by Dawn Witherington

(If you're enjoying my content, please feel free to drop a little something in the tip jar or check out my published works on Amazon or in the Willow Wings Witch Shop. 😊)

#witch community #witchcraft #witchblr #lunar magic #full moon #Sturgeon Moon #moon magic #pagan #lunar calendar

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diazsdimples · 4 months

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Fuck It Friday!!

Tagged by the ever wonderful @theotherbuckley and @wikiangela 💙

Finally got more of the Eddie/Buck first meeting done! Hope you enjoy!

Buck lets his eyes travel over Eddie again (listen, the guy is hot and he just hugged Buck, he’s only human) and it’s then that he notices the LAFD Fire Academy logo on the back of his shirt. In the back of his head, he can hear Carrie’s voice excitedly saying, “his Daddy’s gonna be a firefighter too!”. “H-hey, are you at the academy?” Buck asks, twisting his fingers with a sudden wave of anxiety. Eddie quirks an eyebrow, which looks, frankly, adorable. “Yeah, why?” “Well I – uh – I just finished my probationary year with the 118 and was thinking if you ever needed any help, with like training or whatever, that I’d be happy to lend a hand?” Buck’s got no idea why his heart rate has suddenly ratcheted up in pace, but then Eddie looks at him with a sort of tentative hopefulness, as if he’s deciding if he allows himself to accept help for the first time in his life, and Buck’s stomach does some very unhelpful backflips. “You’re in the LAFD?” Eddie asks, “with the 118?” His brows furrow and Buck’s heart catches in his throat. Is this weird? Is Buck being too much? Eddie looks like he’s thinking and then suddenly his face clears, a grin breaking through and he points at Buck. “Wait a second, you’re Buckley?” It’s definitely not what Buck was expecting, and he stands there dumbfounded for a second before finding his voice. “Uh, yeah?” he says eloquently. Eddie tips back his head and laughs, and Buck’s more confused than ever. “Oh man, you’ve got quite the reputation at the academy Buck” Eddie chuckles. Buck’s pretty sure his brain has been replaced with a family of small crickets. A reputation? Doing what? He nervously thinks back to his early days with the 118, of how he’d steal fire trucks to sleep with women (hey, he couldn’t exactly bring them home, right? And a man has… urges) and wonders if that managed to trickle its way down to the academy. “Uh,” he laughs nervously, “what do you mean by a reputation? I didn’t –“ “You’ve got like, all the records on the scenarios and exercises, man, I’m constantly trying to beat them, but I just can’t get there. And now I know you did all that whilst also being a single father? Jesus.” The way Eddie’s looking at Buck, almost with a sort of reverence, is absolutely insane. He’s hugely relieved that Eddie wasn’t about to bring up his old nickname of “firehose” (coined by one of the other academy members after catching him in the showers with one of the guest speakers) and if he’s totally honest, just a tiny bit smug that no one else has managed to beat his records. “Well, ya know, work hard, reap the rewards, right?” he replies, instantly realising that he sounds like a cocky ass. “Right, right,” Eddie says distractedly, pulling out his phone. He looks back up at Buck, hesitating for a second, before stretching out his phone to him. “Hey do you think I could maybe get your number? I just – I could probably do with a bit of help with my certification tests, and if Christopher and Carrie are going to be friends then it might be –“ “Of course!” Buck grabs Eddie’s phone, maybe a little eagerly, and keys in his number. He contemplates setting his nickname to “Sexy Firefighter Dad” but decides against it. Makes him feel too old anyway, that’s something Bobby would go by. When he finally hands Eddie’s phone back to him, he’s blushing furiously. It’s been years since someone asked for his number for anything other than sexual. “Thanks man,” Eddie says appreciatively and Buck waves him off. “No problem. Who knows, we might end up real close.” He winks cheekily and is delighted to see Eddie’s cheeks pink up a little.

tagging @daffi-990 @watchyourbuck @hippolotamus @cal-daisies-and-briars @puppyboybuckley @disasterbuckdiaz @thewolvesof1998 @rainbow-nerdss @spotsandsocks @jesuisici33 @fortheloveofbuddie @wildlife4life @evanbegins @buckbuckgoose @bucksbackwardcap @exhuastedpigeon @tizniz @smilingbuckley @housewifebuck @steadfastsaturnsrings @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg and anyone else who wants to join

#btw I imagine all the mums at pickup watching this with interest #just ya know #cause they're hot #single dads au #single dad buck #buddie #eddie diaz #911 abc #911 buddie #evan buckley #911verse #911 fanfic

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alwaysbethewest · 1 year

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Triple Frontier fic: A Pilot for Christmas

It's @pedrostories Secret Santa day!! My assignment was for @frannyzooey, who requested domesticity, roommates-to-lovers, and fluff or smut 🥰 I had some of the most fun EVER writing this fic, so I hope it will make you smile, too, Kelli. Merry Christmas!! 🎄 Thank you to @mourningbirds1 and @fleetwoodmactshirt, both of whom I—not to be dramatic but—basically can't live without at this point, and at the very least couldn't have written this fic. And she's not a Pedro fan so I can't imagine she wants to be tagged in this, but thank you to my friend Alyssa for kindly helping me with one of the very few pieces of actual research I did for it.

Title: A Pilot for Christmas Pairing: Frankie Morales/f!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4.8k Content/warnings: roommates to lovers, hot single dad Frankie, pining, yearning, lusting, questionable romance novel smut, compromising positions, sexual content, fade to black, food, domesticity. Unbetaed, so please let me know if you spot any typos/errors!

There’s a note for you on the kitchen table, written in Frankie’s even, boxy print: Mac + cheese + trees in fridge if you want some.

Your schedules never align on Wednesdays; your boss’s mandatory mid-week team meetings inevitably keep you late and Frankie is always on his way to Laura’s place by the time you get home. You haven’t met his ex-wife, but you think she must be nice enough since he’s usually in a good mood when he gets home from their weekly family dinners. They’re co-parenting, as he’d explained when you first moved in, and along with providing dinner on Wednesdays he does his part by taking their daughter on the weekends. He’s given you a break in the rent to make up for sharing your apartment with a three-year-old two days a week.

This is technically a sublet, and it’s technically temporary, but you get along well enough with Frankie that sometimes it feels a little like kismet. His old roommate had landed a contract overseas for a year just as you were moving to town, and a mutual friend had connected you. There are four months left on the contract, but you’d heard from the roommate recently that he was expecting the position to be renewed, so most likely you’ll get to stay longer if you want to. Nothing is official yet either way, and you’ve decided to give yourself another month before you start to worry about it.

Having the apartment to yourself once a week is the perfect opportunity to watch your favorite guilty pleasure TV shows without fear of male judgment—not that Frankie gets really rude about it but his silent raised eyebrow speaks volumes—and you happily warm up a bowl of macaroni and cheese and “trees” (broccoli; it turns out toddlers lose interest when you use the B-word) and settle in on the couch.

Living with Frankie has gone better than you’d feared it might. Knowing he was the friend of a friend of a friend had alleviated some of your anxiety about moving in with a stranger, and he’s turned out to be a mostly quiet, respectful roommate. After maintaining clear-cut boundaries for the first couple of weeks, you had both relaxed a little bit and settled into something of a shared routine. He likes to cook but doesn’t enjoy grocery shopping, so you often take his list along with your own to the store—and reap the rewards on nights like this when he keeps you well-fed. You both like to keep a tidy home, and neither of you minds the other person throwing in a few items when you’re doing a load of laundry. You’ve even mostly gotten over the embarrassment of the time Frankie had delicately handed you a pair of thong underwear he’d found trapped in the sleeve of one of his clean shirts. The barely-contained amusement on his face had haunted you for a full week.

When you’ve finished your dinner you pause the TV to go wash your bowl, and while you’re in the kitchen you take a few minutes to put away the dishes Frankie had left drying in the dish rack. It’s an easy symbiosis, you muse, a give-and-take that seems to suit you both. Underneath his note, you write back: Delicious!! Thank you, and sign it with a heart.

Most of the time your editing job allows you to maintain a reasonable work-life balance, but this month you’ve found yourself scrambling to get everything done before the upcoming holiday break. Your co-worker Deandra is off on an unexpected leave, and after taking on a share of her work on top of your own, the projects have started to form an intimidating pile. One Monday, two weeks before Christmas, you compromise your typical boundaries by logging back onto your laptop after dinner to work on a manuscript. Frankie is watching a game with the volume on low and it makes for comfortable background noise while you work from the opposite end of the couch.

Deandra’s specialty is romance, and while you’ve had to get used to covering a new genre, having some variety has been interesting. But a detail in this book is bothering you. You glance at Frankie, whose expression is quietly focused. His team is leading the scoreboard by a healthy margin. You don’t think he’ll mind a brief distraction.

“Hey. I could use your piloting expertise. Can I ask you a weird question?”

Frankie raises an eyebrow and shrugs his assent. “Go ahead.”

“Okay, so—is it logistically possible to have sex in a cockpit?”

You have his attention. He slowly turns his head to give you a long, wide-eyed look. After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes, contemplating. “What kind of aircraft are we talking?”

“Like a regular… A commercial passenger plane?”

He nods, pursing his mouth and tilting his head up so he can gaze off into space, like he’s visualizing it. He glances at you again.

“Two people?” he checks.

“Two—yes, it’s—” he’s surprised you a little, and you fumble for words. “It’s not a cockpit orgy,” you tell him.

He laughs. “Pilots like to party,” he says opaquely, and now you’re the one narrowing your eyes at him, but he’s ignoring your questioning look. “Okay, is it possible? Theoretically, sure. Especially if the other person is short. Is it comfortable, though?” He pulls a face. “It wouldn’t be my choice. It’s a cramped space. Someone’s gonna end up hitting their head, or accidentally kicking the instrument panel, or…” he trails off, shaking his head in disapproval. “It’s… inadvisable.”

“Got it. Thank you.” You make some notes in the Word document on your screen, still internally recovering from his follow-up question, and Frankie turns his attention back to the TV, where the opposing team is starting to close the lead.

You’re no prude, but the genre you usually work in fades to black more often than not, and this author’s penchant for smutty detail has you feeling slightly in over your head. You’ve made it past the cockpit quickie but four chapters later Frankie’s team is on the cusp of winning their game and your protagonist is finally about to have her tall, dark, and handsome pilot love interest in a real bed.

“This love scene is… really something,” you comment. Frankie looks over in interest.

“Read it to me.”

“It’s dirty,” you warn him.

Frankie smirks. “I think I can handle it.”

You take a breath and start to read aloud from the page: “Isabella’s heart raced in excitement. Roderick was standing so close she felt as though his breath was entering her lungs with every inhalation. He took her hand and pressed her palm to himself, making her feel his turgid cock stirring in his pants—Obviously that needs to go—”

“Which part, the turgid cock?” Frankie asks. “I like it.”

“You like it?” you ask, incredulous.

“What?” he says. “A guy can’t enjoy a turgid cock now?”

“Jesus,” you laugh. Your face is starting to feel warm. “Isabella’s petite hand could barely fit around Roderick’s girthy length and it made her whimper with arousal. Roderick smirked down at her. ‘I can’t wait to be inside you,’ he rasped hungrily. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her flush against his body. ‘Tell me you want it,’ he growled.” You glance at Frankie and see he’s got one arm slung across his chest and the other hand resting at his mouth, thumbnail running distractedly over his lips. He’s staring at the TV without really watching it, and after a moment of silence he finally blinks and meets your eyes again.

“It’s weird you get to read porn for work,” he says dryly, and you bury your face in your hands and laugh.

When the game ends, Frankie switches on an episode of Star Trek that he seems to be half watching while he does something on his phone. On your laptop screen, Roderick has you stymied.

Roderick’s muscular arms tossed Isabella onto the bed like she weighed nothing. “Ohhh,” she moaned. “Give it to me.”

“Give you what, baby?” he rasped. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Give me—” Her pale cheeks blushed prettily. How could she say it out loud? But he was looking at her with such lust in his eyes that she knew he only wanted to make sure she was ready to turn herself over to him, to let him use her any way he liked. The thought of it made her shiver with anticipation. “Give me your cock, Roderick. Make me yours.”

With a growl from deep in his chest, Roderick dragged her hips down the bed so that she was balancing on the edge, where his body loomed over hers. Turning her onto her side, he leaned down to nose under her ear, nipping at the delicate skin of her neck and making her moan. His broad hand clutched her thigh, maneuvering her leg to tuck her knee around his hips, and his other hand he ran tantalizingly down her back until he reached her other thigh. He opened her legs, like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking, and he straightened up, lifting her ankle to rest against his shoulder, and grinding his hard member against her core.

You go over the last few lines again, whispering the words under your breath to yourself as you try to picture the position. You feel like you need a diagram.

“I’m lost,” you declare.

Frankie glances up from his phone. “Hm?”

“I don’t understand where these limbs are going,” you tell him. “I don’t know if my brain just isn’t working because it’s 9 PM or if this passage needs rewriting. Or if this sex is too advanced for me.”

He laughs and makes a grabbing motion at your laptop. “Lemme see.”

You hand it over, standing up to stretch while he reads it to himself.

“‘He opened her legs like an explorer unveiling the treasure he’d been seeking,’” Frankie reads out dramatically. “Really?”

“Don’t get caught up in the simile,” you say. “Focus on the legs. Is that position even feasible? For someone who isn’t a contortionist?”

“Maybe in the next chapter they reveal she was raised in the circus,” he suggests, but he squints at the screen again, reading through the text. “I think I get it. It’s like—” He gestures with his arms, posing them to mimic Isabella’s legs. It’s borderline incomprehensible.

Later, you’ll blame the late hour and your overworked brain for what happens next. If you’d been running on all cylinders, you would have thought through the boundary-crossing implications of this and stopped yourself, but as it is you frown down at him and say, “Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come on,” you urge him, already heading down the hallway to your bedroom. He hesitates, but then follows a few paces behind, and it’s then—the moment he crosses the threshold behind you—that your brain finally catches up to your actions and you begin to realize this was a terrible, terrible idea.

But somehow, coming up with an excuse to turn back feels more mortifying than plowing forward. You sit on the edge of the bed, trying to focus on the matter at hand. Frankie is hanging back, but you give him an expectant look and he takes a step towards you. He clears his throat softly.

“On your side,” he says. It shouldn’t sound like a command—he offers it gently, a reminder of the scene you’re playing out—but something inside you can’t tell the difference and you feel a spot deep in your core go hollow and needy. You turn, obediently, and lay on your right side. He touches the knee of your right leg, urging you to pull it forward.

“This leg around me.”

He steps into the crook of your knee, between your thigh and your calf, and looks down at your other leg, tucked awkwardly between your bodies.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says, and you laugh out loud. The sound dies out when you feel his fingers firmly wrap around your ankle and slowly maneuver your left leg, straight in front of you and then pivoting towards the ceiling. You feel the stretch in your hips, your body turning to follow so you’re halfway between your back and your side. It’s awkward, and he must see your face twist in discomfort, because he stops midway through the movement and rests your foot on his left shoulder. His body is solid and warm against the back of your leg.

“I think in the book it was over here,” he says, tapping his right shoulder. “So maybe she is a contortionist.”

“Or I need to do more Pilates,” you lament. He looks amused.

“Does this position even make sense? Would this work for you?” you ask him, regretting the question as soon as it’s left your mouth. He blinks down at you and his eyes rake down the length of your body to where you’re tangled around him. His hand is still resting over your ankle.

“Your bed is too low,” he says.

It’s—You’d meant the question in a more hypothetical sense. With some other partner, in some other scenario, would this position work? The knowledge that he has taken in the question and assessed the situation—looked at your two bodies in relation to each other, here, in your room, and thought about whether he could fuck you like this—makes you lose your breath.

“Plus—” he continues. He nudges at you to roll you onto your back, carefully lowering your foot from his shoulder so he’s standing between your open legs, nothing between you but empty space and a secret, aching want. He leans in, bracing his hands flat on either side of your body, not touching you but close enough he would only have to lean in. “I like to be able to kiss someone when I make love to them,” he says softly.

He shoots you a smile that could almost be a smirk as he stands up and heads out of the room, leaving you clutching the duvet cover as the world around you tilts on its axis.

It’s not like you’ve never noticed Frankie is attractive. Anybody could see that he is. He’s boyishly cute when he’s playing around with his daughter, their matching, dimpled smiles on display; smoldering when he gets cleaned up to go out on the town with the guys, if a little less runway-ready the morning after; and confusingly, unrecognizably handsome on the occasions he goes clean-shaven. But he’s been so firmly relegated to “platonic male roommate” status since you moved in that you’ve never, even for a second, thought about pursuing anything more. Lusting after your roommate can only end in awkwardness and moving boxes.

So discovering that the man you live with isn’t just good-looking, but has the ability to leave you wet and aching with desire, without even trying, has you looking at everything through a new lens.

On Tuesday, mid-morning, your phone lights up with a text from him. It’s a picture of a small plane cockpit interior, just two seats and a display of navigational instruments.

See how tight she is? he’s written.

You blink at your phone. SHE??

…

She = the plane. Sorry, pilot speak.

Mortifying. You nearly pull up the local apartment rentals page on Craigslist right then and there. You dive into your work instead—not Deandra’s romance, but the grisly thriller in your regular docket. Roderick and Isabella need to give you some space this week. It’s not them, it’s you—and the images of Frankie and you in compromising positions that had popped into your mind when you attempted to pick back up the draft.

He’s like a specter, haunting you.

Wednesday evening is your night with the apartment to yourself, and you’ve never been happier to be alone. He’s left you dinner, again, and you almost don’t eat it on principle—you’ll have to get used to feeding yourself, after all, once he kicks you out for making it too blatantly obvious you want to jump him.

But it would be an actual crime to pass up his enchiladas. You savor the plate. Maybe he’ll give you the recipe as a parting gift, if you ask nicely.

You pour yourself a glass of wine and catch up on one of your shows, and some of the tension you’ve been holding starts to drain from your body. But underneath is a familiar, restless energy buzzing through you, desperate for a different outlet, that you can’t ignore.

You go to bed early. What you need is just a little quality time with yourself, to reconnect and remind your body that you’re perfectly capable of satisfying it on your own—or with the no-strings-attached assistance of a vibrator.

It’s a valiant, miserable attempt. Every tried and true fantasy keeps rerouting back to Frankie. You turn your toy to its highest setting and the sensation still pales in comparison to the thrill of his fingers wrapped securely around your ankle, the line of his body pressed against your legs, and his low, deadly voice telling you how to move.

You go to sleep more frustrated than when you started, only to dream of him. He’s hovering over you, pressing you into the bed, his hot mouth on your neck and sucking on your tits and working his way down to eat you out and bring an orgasm crashing through you—and you wake up at 3 AM with your cunt throbbing between your legs.

One of the things you’ll miss most about this place when you inevitably have to move out due to your incurable roommate attraction is the in-unit washer and dryer. Perhaps in solidarity with your own resolve and self-control, the dryer abruptly breaks in the middle of the week.

“Do you want me to call the landlord, or will you?” you ask Frankie, but he immediately shakes his head.

“Let me take a look at it,” he says.

You bite down on the inside of your cheek.

Two hours and one trip to a hardware store later, he’s on his knees in front of the machine, working quietly save for an occasional soft grunt of exertion when he has to fit something into place.

There’s a bare strip of skin on display where his shirt has ridden up, and a black waistband peeking out from under his jeans. Your mind drifts, imagining away the denim and picturing how the tight boxer briefs would cup his ass and grip his muscular thighs, until your own thighs are clenching and you force yourself to go clean the kitchen instead.

“I’m moving out,” you call over your shoulder as you go.

“I promise I can fix it,” he says, like he thinks you’re just fed up with one broken appliance, not your own internal breakdown.

If only.

It’s 7 AM Friday and you’re fixing your coffee when Frankie ambles into the kitchen, bare-chested and barefoot and wearing nothing more than a pair of low-slung pajama bottoms. If you allowed yourself to look, you would see the soft curve of his modest belly and the sparse line of hair trailing down to disappear enticingly under his waistband. His voice is early morning-deep when he mumbles a good morning. His hand steadies casually on your wrist when he stands next to you to grab a mug from the cupboard just to your left, and you hope he can’t feel your pulse quicken under his touch. When his coffee is ready and he takes his first sip, he lets out a satisfied groan. You want to die.

“You must be doing this on purpose,” you say, dismayed.

He blinks at you over the rim of his coffee cup. “Doing what?”

You gesture helplessly, at his naked chest and effortlessly rumpled bedhead. “Just—being all—”

He glances down at himself, then back at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being all…?”

“Just—sexy, I guess,” you finally admit.

For a moment, he looks surprised. Then an amused smile spreads slowly over his face and he takes a step towards you, clever eyes taking in how your body straightens and your breath picks up.

“I didn’t realize it bothered you,” he says. “Didn’t you say you were going to move out, anyway?”

“I am,” you say. “I can’t stand you anymore.”

He takes another step closer.

“Are you sure?” he asks. “I could give you a reason to stay.”

You slump against the counter at your back, helplessly wanting him.

“Please,” you tell him.

He touches you carefully, one hand skimming your hip and the other on your arm. He cocks his head, looking skeptical.

“You really think I’m sexy?” he asks.

You nod miserably. “It’s torture.”

He laughs and you are desperately endeared by the way it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle, and the hint of a dimple peeking out under his beard.

“I’m going to kiss you,” he says, and he leans in, and the touch of his lips to yours makes you feel like you’re floating, like your body might drift up to the sky if not for his sturdy frame anchoring you in place. Like your legs might give out, sending you sliding to the floor, except that he’s pressing close enough now that his body is touching yours, bending you back just enough to easily reach, and his hand has crept up from your arm to wrap around the back of your neck, holding you securely even as he finally pulls his mouth away, leaving you breathless and dazed.

You think you understand the overwrought prose of Deandra’s romances now.

“I can’t stand you either,” he says quietly. “You were torturing me the other night, with all the dirty talk from that book and then making me go to your room. Christ.”

“Sorry,” you say, not really meaning it. You’ve never felt this intoxicated this early in the morning. You’ve never looked into his eyes this close up. They’re a rich, deep brown that you feel halfway hypnotized by.

He glances away and must spot the microwave clock, because he pulls away with a look of regret. “I need to get ready for work.”

“Take a sick day,” you suggest.

He smiles ruefully and shakes his head. “I can’t,” he says. “But what would you do if I did?

You take a deep breath. Your eyes drop to his waist, and you touch your fingertips gingerly to the soft skin on display there. You lift your gaze to meet his own.

“I’d ask you to take me to bed,” you tell him.

He forces himself to leave. You watch his fingers clenching as he turns away, closing around the empty air as though he wishes it was you.

You go to your own room on unsteady legs and finish getting ready for work, thinking of Frankie’s mouth for your entire commute and almost missing your exit as a result. This time, opening Roderick and Isabella’s romance is a whole new kind of torture, and you end up claiming a headache by 3 o’clock to go home early, not caring if your boss can see through the lie.

Getting home early means you have plenty of time to shower and shave and moisturize with intent this time instead of your regular lazy girl morning routine. You’re soft and smooth and clean, in the kitchen making a snack of crackers and cheese to distract your anticipatory nerves, when Frankie comes home.

He gives you a small, familiar smile and sets a grocery bag on the counter between the two of you.

“You pick which comes first,” he says, nodding to the bag. He steals a cracker off your plate while you peer inside.

He’s brought you two pints of Ben & Jerry’s and one box of condoms.

“All the essentials,” you observe, and he grins. You pluck the condoms out of the bag and hand them to him meaningfully. His smile turns a little sly and he leans in and kisses you, too briefly for your liking, before pulling away again.

“I have to take a quick shower,” he says. “Wait for me?”

You let out a sigh, turning to put away the ice cream. “Don’t take too long,” you joke, gesturing to the pints. “I’ve got two other men waiting for me.”

“Ha, ha,” he says, already halfway down the hall.

Out of the shower, he comes to you with damp hair curling softly around his head, dressed simply in a navy t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants, and looking so good you think you might combust. After a moment of flirtation—your room or mine?—you finally find yourself in his bedroom. He leans in to kiss you and he takes his time this time, cupping your face in his large hand, teasing gently at your mouth, sliding his tongue along yours to deepen the kiss. When he pulls away to trace his lips down your jawline, you take a breath to steady yourself—and then squint in confusion. There’s a familiar scent in his hair.

“Is that—did you use my shampoo?”

He goes still for a moment, caught, and then laughs.

“Mine ran out,” he admits, a little sheepishly. He pulls in closer, nosing at your neck. “Yours is nicer, anyway. I always like how it smells on you.”

“We can share,” you say generously. “I’ve never been one of those roommates who labels all their shit.”

“Good,” he murmurs, mouth hot against your collarbone. “‘Cause I also ate your leftovers.”

You make a sound of exasperation and he tackles you to the bed, promising apologetically that he’ll make it up to you. And then proceeds to do so.

Very thoroughly.

You awaken to find a note on the pillow next to you, in Frankie’s familiar printed handwriting: Going to pick up Baby M. See you soon.

You give yourself a minute to luxuriate in his bed, enjoying the calm, satiated feeling in your body, and the warm scent of him in the sheets, and then you straighten up his bedding and scurry back to your own room to get dressed before he arrives home with his daughter. You’re just pulling your shirt over your head when you hear their voices in the living room, and you go out to greet them. He’s juggling a Starbucks tray in one hand along with his keys and her travel bag. She’s munching contentedly on a snack and doing her part by carrying her favorite stuffed seal plushie.

Over her head, he shoots you a warm, intimate smile. You feel a giddy thrill bubble up in your chest and you grin back at him.

“We made a coffee run,” he says, nodding to the drinks. “Someone wanted a cake pop.” The toddler tips her face up to offer a beatific, icing-smudged smile. Frankie sets her bag on the couch and leads the three of you into the kitchen.

“That one is yours,” he tells you, pointing to one of the cups. Then, to her, “You want some real breakfast, mija?”

You look at the label on the drink and your jaw drops in surprise. “How did you know London Fogs are my favorite?”

He shrugs, like it’s not a big deal, but you catch a self-satisfied smile on his face as he turns away. “I notice things.”

He keeps a platonic distance while his daughter is in the kitchen but when she leaves to go put her stuffed animal away in her room, he pulls closer, nudging your hand with his. “You alright?” he murmurs.

You rub your thumb across his knuckles. “I’m really, really good.”

“I convince you not to move out?” he asks. You pretend to think about it.

“Almost. I think you could tip the balance if you make me some eggs.”

He clicks his tongue in affirmation. “Got it.”

Later, when the three of you have settled at the breakfast table with piles of fluffy scrambled eggs and buttered toast, his face changes like he’s just remembered something.

“Hey, how did that book end up, with Roderick and what’s-her-name?” he asks you, taking a sip of his coffee. “You never mentioned it after Monday night.”

You haven’t actually made it to the end yet, but you already know the answer.

“They lived happily ever after,” you tell him. “It’s a staple of the genre. The couple always has a happy ending.”

“Huh,” he says. He gives you a small, private smile, and taps his foot against yours, out of sight under the table. “That’s good to hear.”

#pedrostoriesgift22 #pedrostories #my fic #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal #triple frontier #francisco morales

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chichiscloset · 1 year

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What "Levelling Up" Means To Me

Levelling up means knowing what you want and being bold enough to ask for it

One of my favorite sayings is:

"You don't get what you deserve, you get what you are willing to accept."

Relationships, business negotiations, and friendships are all affected by this. There's no point in settling in life, ladies. If you’re constantly putting your best foot forward and not reaping the rewards, that you need, it’s time to switch things up. The people that make the most significant changes in their lives are the people that decide to.

You can reach your goals by getting a mentor or coach, as this will assist you. As long as you have access to the internet, you can do this for free. The internet provides multiple opportunities for mentorship through social media platforms such as YouTube or Instagram. If you're a post+ member my inline worksheets and 1-1 coaching will be up and available by November 27th!

Levelling up means creating healthy boundaries

In multiple interviews, Ciara has detailed what her life was like before her relationship with Russell Wilson. She talked about the challenges of becoming a single mother after a toxic relationship and how that helped her develop better boundaries. Read our blog post on boundaries we must set in realationships here!

Healthy boundaries allow you to be accepting of others without selling yourself short.Creating boundaries is as easy as setting out what you will and won’t accept from the people in your life.

Do you have a girlfriend that only wants to talk about herself for hours on the phone? If so, it might be a good idea to establish a specific amount of time that you will talk with her during the week and keep fat it at that.

Are people constantly taking your kindness for granted? If so, healthy boundaries might look like distancing yourself from people that always take but never give. Boundaries are the secret to peace of mind and the cornerstone of emotional well-being.

Take action!

Using your three closest friends and family members as examples, I encourage you to evaluate your boundaries this week. Does anything need to change? If so, you know what to do. Let's level up!

Want more blog posts on Levelling up? Click here!

Want more blog posts on Femininity? Click here!

Want me blog posts on Wellness? Click here!

We Just created a mailling list! Get notified about exclusive content + Free level up PDF checklist!

Click the Link here to view✨

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nayatarot777 · 11 months

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what’s in store for the coming week? ~ mon 5th june - sun 11th june (2023)

check out my patreon if you’re interested in weekly readings (posted every sunday and applicable to sun, moon, and rising) for all 12 individual zodiac signs {aries-pisces}. the weekly zodiac readings for this upcoming week is currently up now ☺️🫶🏾

check out my pinned post if you’re interested in a personal reading 💗

• pile one •

cards: queen of wands, page of cups, strength

you guys are stepping into boss energy, i heard. and this might come as a surprise to yourself as well as other people. you’re going to be reaping the rewards of all of your hard work - especially if this is self-development work. with the page of cups, i’m hearing that the feeling of love towards yourself is going to come as a surprise to you and really allow you to overcome self-doubt, control your ego (especially the parts of you that are usually quite self destructive), and embody true confidence. your ego isn’t controlling you anymore - you have control over it now. this confidence may even be from the proposition of a date from someone else. you’re showing up as extremely attractive and independent, and because of this independence, you’re attracting a lot of surprises for yourself. i’m also seeing that you’re putting more faith into your intuition that you’re going to be hearing loud and clear, due to the fact that you have more trust in yourself.

• pile two •

cards: the fool, 5 of swords, the hanged man

you guys are about to just jump into something new. this could be something that other people have advised you against, but you’re ignoring their unsolicited advice and opinions and going within to listen to yourself. for some of you, i’m also seeing you see some of these people in a completely different light and realising that they may have tried to actually sabotage a brand new beginning for you. the audacity 🤨. you’re coming to the realisation that there’s no point in explaining yourself to people who aren’t willing to even listen to your point of view. you’re realising that you need to change the way that you think towards yourself, the way that you communicate with these people, and the trust that you have in yourself (just like pile one). the fool card is showing that you’re starting a brand new journey for yourself - regardless of how other people feel about it.

• pile three •

cards: the moon, king of wands, 9 of cups

this is kind of a funny message, but you might not even realise that the fruits of your labour are allowing you to sit in complete emotional fulfilment within yourself and your accomplishments. you could be distracted by something that is currently (or will very soon) confuse you. maybe something that your intuition is telling you about or something that seems quite secretive/hidden that you’re trying to figure out. specifically about whether or not you should be confident moving towards whatever this moon represents. this could also be a fire sign masculine being a bit secretive or suspicious to you, but there’s something about you feeling completely comfortable around this masculine. and for others of you, i’m seeing you not realising that a goal that you had set for yourself in the past has actually been achieved by you already and you’re enjoying the results of the goal that you haven’t even realised that you’ve achieved. there’s also some advice to be lead by your intuition.

#psychic readings #tarot reading #pick a card #pac #pick a photo #divination #tarot #pick a picture #pac reading

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bi-writes · 10 months

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what never left us | j.m.

there isn't a place dark enough to hide the things i've done for you.

type: one-shot, written in third person (no use of y/n) pairing: dark!joel miller x dark!afab!fem!reader word count: 11.7k (oops, strap in) warnings: implied age gap, extremely mature language and content, extremely mature written sexual content (see details below the cut), 🔞⚠️ summary: it isn't your fault that nobody understands how far you'll go for him; it isn't your fault that they don't understand what he is to you. complete masterlist

detailed warnings: extremely dark content ahead. includes themes of extreme violence and murder + sexual, emotional, and physical manipulation. read at your own discretion.

It was not quite clear when she realized she was not like other little girls. Her earliest memories were not the same as other women. She had no memory of life before, of dollhouses and pink tutus. She only had recollections of still-hot gun barrels and the stray bullets they left behind; she only truly remembered the pink that blood became when washed away by rainwater, and how it could stain canvas shoes the same color if she stuck out her foot to meet the flowing trails.

She had not been interested in the things that other little girls were interested in. She didn’t want to play pretend. She didn’t feel like braiding her hair or coloring pictures or reading stories. She was only fascinated by what was. By reality. By the things that shaped the world, and not the things that existed in fantasy. The scars on her fingertips from touching the sharp edges of blades too often attested too well to that fact.

The only thing she found she had in common with some other girls, finally, was the way her eyes followed other boys. She did not fawn over them as some others had. Some of them had been pretty, had smiles that were attractive, but this was where she again realized she was not the same as anyone else. Where others saw the possibility of romance, of love, of the idea of forever in one other person, she thought practically. The first boy she ever kissed was willing to trade the kiss for a box of ammo. The transaction had seemed agreeable to her then. She never saw affection or love the same way again.

Touch was a deal, a trade. It was not gentle or kind, it did not signify love or warmth or tenderness. She learned very quickly that in this new world, in the only world she had ever known, touch was scarce and a useful bartering tool. She could use it to her advantage, trick men into thinking they had control, kiss them until they dropped their guard and reap the rewards of their lust-clouded minds.

Perhaps that was why to show affection, she thought violence was her truest option.

But there was nothing romantic about this. If she looked up and tried to forget what laid underneath her, she might pretend; if the only thing in her view was the sky, then perhaps she could play along with the idea that it was just another day. But the shielded view was brief, and when her eyes dropped back to the body beneath her, all she could really do was wrench the hatchet out of the girl’s neck and clean it off against the fabric of their shirt.

The girl was pretty. She had long hair, glassy eyes, and pouty lips. She thought maybe those lips were what drew him to her. They resembled her own, the curve of them just round enough to almost look like they belonged to her. She bent down, fishing through the girl’s pockets, finding crumpled rations in one and a few pieces of contraband in another—cigarettes, a few batteries, and a tube of 20 year-old lip gloss. She clenched her jaw at the sight of it. It was strawberry flavored, and when she popped the cap open on it, she smelled the moldy, sickly artificial candy flavoring that she had noticed against the collar of his shirt just a few hours ago.

She wondered if he knew what he smelled like. She wondered if he knew she was observant enough to smell something different on him. Something new. Unwelcome. She wondered if he knew and chose not to change his shirt or decided to see how she reacted. She wondered if he knew at all how much she felt, and how easily she let it consume her entire being.

No. He was a man. He definitely had not thought that far.

She tossed the lip gloss back on top of her, standing up straight as she slipped the hatchet back into its place on her belt. She rolled her neck out, taking a few glances at her surroundings before leaving the girl to rot in a forgotten corner of the city.

No one would find her. Not for many days, at least. Perhaps it would be the smell that they would follow to her. Or maybe the rats would discover the girl first and cover her tracks better than time could.

It was dark, much too dark. It was too far past curfew to be able to use the excuses she normally used; it was too long after work shifts to pretend an extra shift ran over, and it was too early to be on her way to a morning one. So, she kept to the alleys, taking cover in doorways when she noticed lights flooding through the streets. She was small enough to fit into hidden spaces, and she used it to her advantage, slipping between buildings barely making noise. Going through undetected, being able to disappear into a crowd, blending in and fitting in and being unseen was her specialty; no one could hide better, and no one could get their hands on what she could.

Smuggling was all she knew. Since she was small, growing up on the overgrown city streets meant learning how to survive. She was not able to work enough to live, but she found that as a child, she could get through places that adults could not. With this knowledge and just a bit of bravery, she learned how to move through the city in corridors and through spaces that only she knew of. If someone needed something hidden, it would not be seen until asked for again. If someone needed something taken from one end of the city to another, she would get it there every time. She was resourceful, determined, and too good at what she did.

Even as she grew, she kept these routes to herself, even made new ones when others seemed to follow her tracks, earning herself an unrivaled reputation that too many people needed in the city to ever try and stop her. She knew many, many people; but there was only one man that she ever cared to learn the name of.

Joel.

He had heard from a friend of a friend about what it was that she did. Hiding, disappearing, moving things around, it was what he needed, and he needed the best. It was just another job, taking a bag from him, not asking questions or looking inside of it, and taking it to a secure location before dropping it off somewhere very specific on the west side of the city.

But sometimes jobs got messy. She didn’t lose the bag. She hadn’t looked inside. She hadn’t left the package in the wrong place. No, she just let the job get personal.

She was a bullet that he never saw coming. The first moment he laid eyes on her, he knew she was nothing but trouble. Such pretty features she had; he couldn’t stop looking at her. Hair lovely enough to pull. Greedy lips. Eyes he could get lost in. Figure-hugging denim, with enough pockets for her to hide something dangerous. And her voice—a siren song, a soft beckoning, a sound that he would never forget again.

The look in her eyes when he met her gaze for the first time told him she was thinking just the same thing. It was hard not to. There were men, and then there was Joel. All hard lines and words that stung like venom, but she liked them that way. And so she had smiled, wet her bottom lip, and purred as she took the contraband from him—tell me where you want it. In lieu of payment, she found herself tangled between the sheets of his bed, waking up to the sight of him counting the ration cards on the table and nodding for her to leave.

She had left. But it didn’t mean she stopped coming back.

She wanted to feel bad for sleeping with him. She wanted to regret every time she left his apartment with a shakiness in her step from how rough his touch had gotten. She wanted to take herself seriously when she promised that one more night was all she needed, and then she would never come back, but she always ended up right back where she started.

It was simple; she could not stay away from him, and he would not turn her away. There was a kind of satisfaction that came with ending up in his bed. Joel had his own reputation. He was good at what he did, too, and his name was enough to make others nervous. Joel could get his hands on things that no one else could; cigarettes, drugs, even books or the nostalgia of a certain candy for the right price. He ran his business like he fucked her—quiet, deliberate, easy.

He was not known to be a kind man. Often, she heard groups talk about him with distaste, complaining about the sway of prices in contraband or how they met the wrong end of his fist for trying to undercut him. She even heard a woman cry at the way he had killed her partner, but she just licked her lips at the thought, thinking the woman had been holding back part of the story, maybe perhaps a moment when her partner tried to hold a gun up to Joel’s head and cut their deal short. Joel was not a man someone tried to subdue; he was too good at reading the room, at handling himself around a gun, at using the rough timber of his voice to make others shake under his tense gaze.

And because of this, she felt her own power in the way she could have him underneath her any night she liked. What started out as a business transaction turned into genuine attraction, into learning what his kisses felt like and how warm his hands were on her bare skin and how nice his voice sounded as it spewed profanities into her ear. She was satiated inside having influence over a feared, unruly, unforgiving man, one at her beck and call. Joel was hers. He belonged to no one else.

She just wish he understood that. Then she wouldn’t have had to dirty her favorite weapon and dull its edge. Maybe, just maybe, that girl would still be so pretty.

When she shut the door to her apartment and turned on the lights, she bit back a smile at the sight in front of her. He was there, taking up her space, legs spread as he sat at her kitchen table and sipped liquor from a chipped glass. She realized early on that Joel had no clue how attractive he really was. He had no idea how the solidness of him was enough to have her on her knees; he had no idea that the low tone of his voice could get her off alone, and that there was no other living thing in this Godforsaken world that could handle her body the way he could. She put down her backpack, making her way to him, surprised but not unwelcoming of him waiting for her like this.

She stopped in front of him, expecting him to stand and kiss her and manhandle her into her bedroom, but he just sat there still, his jaw hard and tight as he moved the glass around in his hand and watched the liquor swirl with the movement.

“Where were you?” He asked. Her excited expression faded into something a bit dismal, and she tried to not let the annoyance show on her face. She made her way into her kitchen, opening one of the cabinets and taking out her own glass. She took a seat across from him at the table, tipping the bottle over and letting the clicking of glass against glass make up the only response to his question. She took a long sip of the drink, letting it burn her throat nicely before looking at him again.

He was staring right back at her, glaring almost. Joel could be mean; he often was, even to her, but she had learned to ignore this behavior. He was mean to everyone. He was mean and cruel and impatient, but she liked that about him. It meant there was no room for fluff, for nothingness. It was all or nothing with him, and she never liked to prolong a chase. She was quite content to let him have what it was he wanted.

“I don’t have to tell you that,” she said matter-of-factly.

“No?” He tilted his head to the side, laughing even, but it was dry and humorless. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be. Answer my fucking question.”

She tipped her head back, downing the rest of her drink before standing. She shook her hair out of the style she had put it in that morning, shaking it out before starting for her bedroom.

She didn’t make it very far. Just as quickly as she had started to walk away from him, he had caught her by the arm and slammed her up against the wall, towering over her with his height and broadness. She grunted a bit as her head hit the surface roughly, biting her tongue to not spit in his face in protest. She stared up at him angrily, but he put a forearm to her neck, holding her eyes to his so he could stare right back.

“Tell me where you were,” he muttered. “I ain’t askin’.”

She tilted her head to the side, gritting her teeth as she struggled against his obvious strength. She tried to turn her head to the side, but he pressed his arm against her throat harder, forcing her chin up just to breathe.

“What did I say?” He snapped. “Tell me.”

“Or what?” She shot back, a sick smile ghosting her face as she coughed a bit against him. “What are you gonna do, Joel? Hit me?” She snickered a bit, shaking her head as much as his grip allowed. “You won’t.” She leaned forward as much as she could, but it was close enough for her breath to warm his jaw. “You know I’d like it too much.”

He let his arm fall, his hand wrapping around the expanse of her throat and pushing her head back into the wall. She let out a hard breath at the new hold, but he was in control. He was too strong to fight against, but there was a gnawing in her belly that didn’t want to fight against this. If anything, his angry eyes were pretty, and his touch was hot, and his commanding voice was making her head dizzy with filthy thoughts. His intimidation was not having the effects he desired; he should’ve known better, should’ve known that they wouldn’t work on her at all.

“Listen to me—” He choked her a bit, almost lifting her up off her feet as he pressed her as hard as he could into the wood behind her. “If I find out you were up to no good, you won’t like what happens. I fucking mean it.”

“Yeah?” She let out with a strained breath. “You think I—You think I care, Joel?” She smiled again, a sickly sweet one that made his entire body feel hot with indifference. “If you’re going to try and scare me, you could at least not lie to me.”

“And you could try and not make fucking messes that I gotta clean up,” he growled. His eyes trailed a bit down her face, along her jaw. He lifted his thumb up, touching a speckle of something on her neck and watching it smear across her skin. Blood, still wet, painting her throat eerily. “What…what did you do?”

She felt his grip loosen just enough, and she let her eyes fall down the expanse of his face before settling on his lips. She stared at them, watching as he breathed steadily. They were a bit dry, a bit chapped, and she wanted to hydrate them, swallow him in kisses and let the night melt into morning into another forgotten day.

“Strawberry,” she whispered, licking her lips slowly.

“What?”

“It was strawberry,” she said again, a bit louder. “Strawberry lip gloss.”

Silence, and she scoffed a bit.

“I thought it was cherry,” she added, a terrifying smile on her face. Eyes sparkling with nothing but mischief, a sickening amount of enjoyment and satisfaction swimming in the depths of them. “But it was fucking strawberry…”

She finally let her eyes slowly rise to meet his, and she tilted her head to the side. She stood up on her toes, her nose touching his, their faces close enough that they could breathe each other in.

“Was it worth it, Joel?” She asked, putting a hand to his chest. “Tell me. How did she feel?”

He let her go finally, his features knitting together. A clear frown came over his face, and he stepped back from her. He still had a hand on her throat, but it laid there with no force, just holding her there. His eyes moved over her face, trying to discern what it was that she was saying. She looked so calm, too calm, and that smile on her was making him feel more uneasy with every passing second. He said her name, but his voice was so low, uncertain.

“What did you do?” He asked again. “What the fuck did you do?”

She put her hands on his chest, caressing the warmth of him for a moment. She leaned up on her toes more, her lips just barely grazing his, and he followed her instinctively, leaning towards her to try and close the space. Instead of giving in, she drew her head back just enough to deny him and pushed roughly on his chest, shoving him backwards with a grunt. She slipped the hatchet from her belt, putting the sharp edge to the middle of his chest, keeping him at a distance.

It was almost poetic, holding him there with the same blade that had sunk so deep into that girl’s carotid artery. She remembered her eyes as the life left them. She had watched as the blood that was supposed to be pumping into her pretty little brain spilled out onto the cracked floor instead, feeding nothing but air until she stilled and never moved. For someone that had gotten close to Joel, she remembered thinking that someone with so little fight in them didn’t deserve to be in his vicinity, in his circle, to breathe the same air as he did. The girl wasn’t worthy. She didn’t know how to survive. She would never have lasted, anyways.

Disposable. Naïve. Weak.

But worst of all, in my way.

“I should be asking you that question,” she murmured darkly. She let the blade drag up his chest, along the column of his throat, until it sat on the edge of his jaw. She let it dig in just slightly, forcing a low growl from him as a small bead of blood followed the invisible trail she had traced with her hatchet. She met his eyes, smiling again. “But it’s okay, Joel. I fixed things. You’ll learn.”

Because you’ll be sorry if you don’t.

She came close to him again, leaning up and putting her lips to his. Against his better judgment, he leaned closer, giving into her just like he always did. She licked into his mouth, letting the kiss warm him everywhere in all the wrong ways, and she tasted something so dirty on him. She was sure he must have tasted the same thing on her because he was desperate to keep her close, to keep kissing her, to get lost in the essence of her as he normally did. She bit down on his lip hard, drawing a hiss from him, and she pulled away slowly.

She whined with satisfaction, knowing she had him exactly where she wanted him. Staring up at him, into those sad eyes, she could see no matter how much blood she had on her hands, he would end up right here, following her lips and desperate for her to touch him in any way she desired. She separated Joel from other men because of how she craved him constantly, but she was always put at ease to know she could play him just like any other.

“Now…” She stepped back, letting her hand holding the weapon lower as she tossed it onto the table beside her. “Unless you’re going to join me—” She nodded her head to the bathroom, where a cold shower was waiting for her, “—you can let yourself out.”

She didn’t look back as she made her way into the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror as she heard the front door of her apartment slam shut. She smiled anyways, smoothing a hand over her neck, watching the splatters of crimson smooth over her in strange, abstract lines.

She was so pretty.

He would come back. He always did.

His name was Brian.

I think.

He was new. He had a lopsided grin on his face, an easy demeanor, and he sipped alcohol with a slight wince, meaning he had yet to really get used to the bitter taste of whiskey. He was young, but he was just like the rest of them. She guessed he had grown up amongst the groups that ran the city. He had the stench of a boy dressing up like a man, and he had an eerie confidence in his eyes. He knew nothing of how things really worked, but he believed he did, and that was why he was talking to her in a husky voice, letting his lips graze the shell of her ear as he talked sweetness into it.

Her nails drew lines against the skin of his exposed forearm. She was staring up at him, pretending to listen to what he was saying, a little smile on her face. She looked sweet, as she always did, but he had no idea the thoughts that ran through her head. He had no idea that all she was thinking about was the contraband he had promised her, and how much more she could get out of him if she batted her lashes a bit more.

He was a man that responded to her advances. This was the trade, this was the deal, and he was falling into her waiting arms. A carnivorous plant perhaps, flashing and beautiful with a sickly sweet aroma, all too wonderful until they realized the sweetness would stick them to her, and they would have nowhere to run as she ate them right up.

There was nothing she wouldn’t do to get ahead. There was no person she wouldn’t step on. There was no place dark enough to hide the red on her ledger. She had no remorse for the things she had done, and she never would.

The noise around the speakeasy was low and buzzing, and the lights were dim enough to hide the way Brian’s hands smoothed up the skin of her thighs, but her eyes were adjusted enough to meet a certain man’s gaze from across the room. At the sight of him, she leaned in, letting the stranger crowd her space, his breath warm against her cheek, her smile coy and dark and hiding her true intentions.

Joel could see right through her. He had others around him, others wanting his attention, his opinion, his time, but he couldn’t concentrate on them. His eyes were fixed on where she sat at the bar. The boy was too close to her, he knew that much. He couldn’t see underneath the bar, but he imagined that there were unwanted hands in places that only he was allowed to touch. It was infuriating how she provoked him. She knew he was there now, he had locked eyes with her, and she seemed to be urging his anger to bubble up to the surface. She seemed to want him to lose his temper, to lose his composure, to stride over and slam that kid’s face against the counter until he had no teeth left to chew his food.

She wanted Joel to be mean. She liked when Joel was mean. He had heard her say it before, heard her moan it in his ear as he practically choked her into oblivion against the wall of his bedroom. She liked Joel when he was mean, and he could only guess that at this moment, she wanted Joel to be mean for her. He clutched a lukewarm beer tight, turning away from her. She was doing this on purpose. He did not want to entertain her irritable advances.

But, God, it was so hard to focus on anything except for her. She had taken her jacket off now, revealing a black tank top that revealed all her pretty skin. She was sweating a bit in the dark summer heat, and her chest was glistening with a slight sheen, drawing eyes exactly where she wanted them. She was too good at this, too good at playing the stupid, gullible woman. She was too good at hiding how dangerous she was. She was too good at letting men think she would coo and lick and kiss when in reality, she would bite their heads off as soon as she got them alone.

She liked biting. The taste of blood only fueled the hunger in her.

But then she were gone. She had disappeared into a small corner somewhere, leaving the boy to sit at the bar and order her another drink. Joel found himself moving through the crowd, weaving between bodies until he put his empty bottle down on the wood counter and motioned for another.

“Ought’a be careful with that girl,” Joel said finally as he waited for his drink. The kid lifted his head a bit, turning to face him. He raised a brow, looking Joel up and down before shrugging.

“What, you speak for her or somethin’?”

“Reckon nobody does,” Joel muttered. “Nobody can.”

He was wrong, but he didn’t really know he was wrong.

The kid had the audacity to stand up straighter, moving a little closer to Joel, glaring a bit.

“I don’t think it’s any of your business what we do, man,” he warned. “So why don’t you fuck off before you really piss me off, yeah?”

Joel didn’t even flinch, turning his head to look at him. He narrowed his eyes, clenching his jaw just enough to show his irritation.

“All I said was t’be careful with her. Rest is up to you,” Joel finished, taking his new drink off the counter and taking a long sip of it. The kid leaned forward a bit more, shaking his head.

“Listen, man, I don’t know who the fuck you are or what your problem is, but fuck off,” he said lowly. “I don’t know who she is to you, but she sure isn’t with you, so I’m gonna take her out back, have my fucking way with her, and you’re gonna leave us alone. Because if I see your fucking face again, I won’t hesitate.”

Joel just smirked a bit, shaking his head before taking another sip of his drink. The boy had no idea who she was; he was so new that he had yet to learn her name, and it would be a mistake he would never forget, a lesson he would remember forever. She was all sharp nails and teeth, camouflaged in figure-hugging jeans and a beautiful smile, and the boy would learn too late how volatile she really was.

“Keep telling yourself that, kid.”

As Joel made his way back to his old spot on the other end of the room, he passed right by her. She let her hand catch his arm, dragging along the length of it. Her fingers brushed through his, almost intertwining, before making her way to her seat. He followed her figure as she took a seat again, whispering in the boy’s ear, something that made the kid smile and nod his head to the door behind her. She slid off the stool, her hand in his as they both disappeared out the back. Her eyes found Joel’s, and all she did was lick her lips visibly before the door shut behind them.

She knew he would follow. She knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself. She knew he would open the back door just a bit, just to watch her as she took the package from the boy towering over her. She pocketed it, staring up at him as she slipped the small package into her bra, a sultry smile on her face as he got close to her. Leaning down to whisper in her ear, two hands gripping her waist and shoving her into the hard brick of the wall behind her. She made a small sound of protest, but Joel knew she was playing a part. It was too easy, the kid was too comfortable; besides, Joel couldn’t remember the last time a man other than himself got the upper hand on her.

She sucked in a warm breath when she felt his two hands grip her ass possessively, forcing her to spin around and slamming her face into the rough wall behind her. She felt the rubble cut her face a bit, but she wasn’t worried at all by the compromising position. She could see Joel, staring from the crack in the door, and as the kid’s hands wandered to the front of her jeans, the door was kicked open hard, smacking against the wall behind it as Joel dumped the beer still left in the bottle and smashed the glass against the back of the boy’s head.

She smiled a bit, turning around slowly. The bottle made a sickening crunch when it shattered against the back of the boy’s head; his knees buckled instinctively, and he clutched the opposite wall for balance as he tried to regain his focus. She leaned against the wall as she watched Joel pick up the kid by the collar of his shirt and slam him against the brick over and over and over again. One large hand fisted through his short hair, using it as leverage to bring his face down against the rough, cracked surface of the wall. The sounds were unforgiving; bone crunching, struggling and pained breaths, the clatter of teeth as they fell against the pavement, hurried and spit apologetic words for mercy.

She let her fingers drag down the back of her neck, over her chest, and she bit her lip hard to keep from letting out a satisfied whine as she watched this man lose all of his constraint, all of his control, all of his poise just for her.

Just for her. All for her. Anything for her.

She had never seen this look in his eyes. Joel was hovering over her, staring down at her as he took shallow, angry breaths, finally letting the broken beer bottle fall to the ground with a loud clunk. She took her bottom lip between her teeth again, her eyes falling over his face in the low light of the street. His features were lit only by moonlight, but it didn’t hide the depth of his disapproval. It took everything in her not to let out a sound as he raised a hand to put a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face up to his to bring her just that much closer.

“Is this what you fucking wanted?” He asked. His voice was a rumbling, deep whisper, and if she was anyone else, it would’ve terrified her. Instead, she just met his eyes easily, wetting her lips and letting a little laugh slip out. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Huh? Is this what you wanted?!”

She shrugged a bit, not cowering even a little under his hard glare. She seemed to enjoy it, too much for his liking.

“I mean…I’m not thrilled…” She sighed deeply, looking down where the body laid beneath their feet. “It’s gonna be a pain in the ass to find another contact.”

Joel gripped her face harshly, his large hand suffocating most of her face as he squished it hard, making her look at him.

“That’s what you’re fucking worried about? Not having a goddamn contact?” He scoffed. “You don’t wanna talk about how you fucking let this boy put his hands on you? And that you didn’t do a damn thing about it?”

She shrugged again.

“You were here,” she said easily. “I knew you’d take care of it. You always do.”

Take care of it.

She knew Joel would not be able to help himself. She knew he would lose his temper just at the thought, and she knew what he might do when he saw it with his own eyes. She let it happen; she enjoyed it.

“You knew I’d kill the fucking kid—” Joel pressed his forehead to hers, unsure whether he should kill her, too, or kiss her. “—you knew what I might do. That’s why you did it.” He smoothed his hand up her face, across her cheek, into her hair. She let out a soft whine as he tugged harshly on it, his fingers tangled between the strands. “You don’t even fucking care.”

She shook her head, agreeing with him. It was true. She didn’t care. The boy was nobody, not to her. He didn’t matter. He was blood and flesh and uselessness, and nothing about him mattered. If anything, he would do more good fertilizing the dirt beneath him.

That’s what he was to her. That’s what everyone was to her, except for Joel. They were beneath her; blips on the same timeline as her, molded skin and pulp and bone and thoughts that would never mean anything. They either served her a use, or they were simply disposable.

“You’re right, I don’t care,” she echoed. “He’s nothing, Joel.”

Joel swallowed hard, pulling back to look at her. She stared up at him just the same. He dragged a thumb over her wet bottom lip, tracing the skin there. He shook his head slightly, his face almost saddening at the sight of her. She was too pretty for the twisted thoughts inside of her head. She was too beautiful to think so little of others, but he couldn’t help himself when it came to her. The possessiveness, the need, it fed the demons that lived in him, and he could feel them growing. She was no good for him; in fact, she would probably be the death of him, but he liked the feelings that scorched his insides when he did things for her.

Dirtying hands, wringing necks, forcing broken glass into soft flesh—doing it with purpose had only made the violence easier. This was not romance, it was evil, pure death and smoke and malice that would fester the longer Joel stayed by her side. Everyone thought it was Joel blackening her insides. They had no idea how torn apart she was from the inside out, and how her pretty features only made the vicious woman inside of her that much easier to ignore.

If they could see what swirled in her eyes now, they would hide in their brick houses. If they knew the kind of blood she had on her hands, they would never make the mistake of crossing her again. If they knew how easily she decided life and death, they would probably hang her.

“You killed that girl,” Joel accused her lowly. “Didn’t you?”

She tilted her head to the side slightly, parting her lips and letting out a soft breath.

“What girl?”

She grunted as Joel yanked at her hair, pulling at it hard enough to make her head throb.

“Don’t play games with me,” he commanded. “I know it was you.”

“You’ll have to be more specific, Joel,” she cooed, smiling up at him. “You know me. A lot of girls cross me. A lot of girls try and take what’s mine. It’s not my fault they have no idea what’s coming.”

It’s not my fault they don’t understand how far I’ll go just to prove a fucking point.

She spat out the last sentence, gritting her teeth as her eyes darkened. He pursed his lips, letting go of her only to nod down the alleyway.

He was motioning for her to start moving, and she did so without protest. She could feel his eyes boring a hole into her back, and every so often, she made sure to shake her hair out a bit and let her hips move with her slow steps. It was dark, and she had to keep to the shadows, and when the sound of a truck passing forced them to hide, she made sure to press her back to the front of him as they both used the backside of the building they were passing through as cover. He let out a sound of disapproval, but his hand still came up to hold her waist, and there was no mistaking the feeling of him against her.

Joel might’ve been a steel wall of hardened resolve, but he had his weaknesses. He was still a man, after all.

And God, what a man he was. As soon as the apartment door shut behind her, he was on her. Filthy, bloodied hands in her hair, lips biting into hers, knee shoving her legs apart as she used the wall to balance herself. She let her eyes flutter shut, savoring the taste of beer and warmth and maybe stale cigarettes. He tasted good, just like he always did, and she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she sunk her weight down onto his thigh, dragging her hips in eager grinds. The friction of the denim of her jeans against his felt too good, and she let her voice spill satisfied whines and gasps into his ear whenever their lips parted.

“Can’t fucking believe you—” Joel muttered between kisses. “—there’s something so fucking wrong with you—” She slipped her tongue into his mouth, covering his lips with hers, giving him nothing but sloppy, wet kisses that was making it hard for him to breathe. She put both hands on his chest finally, pushing him back and off of her, staring up at him with a little smile as she forced him to walk backwards until his knees hit the back of the couch. She rested both hands on either side of him as she dropped herself into his lap. “You’re not listening to a goddamn word I’m saying—”

She kissed him again, swallowing his words, letting them die on his tongue as she guided both of his hands to grab both sides of her ass and squeeze. She moaned into his mouth, letting her senses be consumed by him.

The touch of him, his touch on her, leaving nothing but hot, wet skin in their wake. The way he smelled, a bit like fire, maybe blood, something so him and so dark and so utterly good that her mouth was watering. The taste of him, so bitter and tangy. The sound of his gruff voice, groaning and grunting and whispering filthy words as she dragged her hips just how he liked. And fuck, the sight of him—brown eyes blown wide with desire, the filth and grime of today’s work enveloping her as his arms covered her in their security. He was a man too overwhelming to take in all at once, but she was trying, and it was killing her.

How could he not see that she was the only one that could handle him? How could he not see that there wasn’t another woman in this entire fucked-up world that could understand him the way she could?

How can he not understand that he’s mine?

She pulled away from his kiss reluctantly, but her lips found the edge of his jaw. She lapped at the skin under it, dragging her touch up to just under his ear, just where he liked. She found the hollow with her tongue, the place that made him hiss and grit his teeth and buck his hips up into hers, and she delved into the space there with as much fervor as her swollen lips allowed. She pulled a harsh groan from him, his hands slipping up her waist, her top coming with it to reveal her bare skin underneath. She let him lift the fabric over her head and toss it aside, and she adjusted the bra she wore, letting his eyes wander low and admire the sight.

“You’re gawking,” she panted, putting a hand to his chest. She tilted her head to the side, bringing her other hand up and running her fingers along the edge of the dark material, his eyes following eagerly. She leaned in, to talk into the skin of his cheek. “You can touch, Joel. You can rip it off of me…you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours…” She sat up in his lap, and he mouthed at the skin of her breasts spilling out of her bra, wet kisses that were making her realize she was soaking through her jeans now. “You can take whatever you want from me, Joel. You don’t even have to ask.”

It was true. She never wanted him to ask. Sometimes, she would stare at him from across a room and wish that he could saunter over and just take her against the wall she leaned against. She wished he would bend her over her kitchen table and not give her any warning before burying himself so deep, she felt him in her guts. She prayed that he would wake her up with a hand on her throat, his teeth against her ear, and his hips drilling into hers as his way of fucking a good morning into her.

I wish he would see that everything I am belongs to him, and that all I want is for him to just take and take and take from me.

She fiddled with her belt as Joel took care of her bra, tossing it aside. She liked how he paid such attention to her bare skin, how he kissed and sucked and breathed against the precious parts of her now exposed for him to taste. He lifted her hips to slide her jeans off, nearly ripping her panties as she tried to take those off just as eagerly. She was completely bare, naked in his lap, but she made no move to undress him.

There was something so enticing in the air. Joel, fully clothed and letting his hands wander and squeeze and grope and touch her everywhere, while all she could do was whine and tug on his curls and lick over his lips—it created a power dynamic that had her leaking onto his jeans, darkening the denim until he hissed, feeling the damp fabric against his skin. She cupped his face in her hands, kissing him hotly, begging him with soft words not to move away from her, to hold her tighter, to fuck her silly.

She gripped his shoulders tight, starting to pant with need as she rocked her hips into him with more force. He had barely ghosted a few fingers over her, but she was eager to come, in any way he would let her, and as he sat back with a smug look on his face, she realized he wanted her to ride him just like this, to get herself off pathetically fast without even seeing any part of him naked. She felt the denim smooth against her pulsing clit, and it only drove her hips faster against his, her face dropping to rest in the crook of his neck as she chased what she could only hope was her first high of the night.

Soft, wet, palpitating, every part of her aching with need, he could feel it. As she found her breath again, just after wetting his lap with her bliss, he had shoved two fingers deep into her, thick digits spreading her open and making her whine with overstimulation. He fit his thumb over her clit, watching her jaw go slack as she let her hips chase his hand. She was just reacting, her body absentmindedly following his every move, responding to him as he knew she would, and it was raw and wretched and pulling at every part of her.

But it was an act. It was a show. She was just pretending. Even though it looked every bit like she was just the submissive, pathetic, whining, pretty girl Joel was fucking at the moment, she knew that she had this man wound so tightly around her finger. Although he spoke the filthiest words and was making her wet his hand with need, he was hers to do with in any way she wanted. All she had to do was bat her lashes, kiss him soft, and beg, and he would give her whatever she asked for.

Whatever I want, whatever I need, whatever it is that my little heart desires—he will do it for me. And it won’t matter who has to die or who he has to hurt or who he has to step over to get it.

As much as it seemed Joel overpowered her, she was the one who painted the picture. Whispering in his ear, guiding his hands, telling him what he needed to hear. He could growl in her ear all he liked, but it never convinced her otherwise. She knew this was true; even despite what he knew about her, even despite all the lies she told, he was still here. He was kissing her, pumping his fingers inside of her and drawing soft moans from her, and she knew he would give into her like he always did.

Joel could pretend he was done with her as much as he liked; but he would come back for her eventually.

“Please—” She begged, throwing her hips down against his hand, feeling full but not full enough. “Please, Joel…I need more…”

“Now you’re begging?” He scoffed, sucking roughly on the edge of her jaw. “Now you wanna listen to me? Is that it, sweetheart?” She nodded in response, whining, pawing at his shoulders to get herself even closer, melt into him if it was possible. “Maybe you don’t deserve it.”

“Joel—!” She gasped, shaking her head. “I-I do…I do!” She brought his lips back to hers, breathing in his groans as she let her hands wander between their bodies, her hands finding the outline of him and squeezing eagerly. “I do deserve it…”

If it was possible, his eyes darkened, a black hue of anger and lust that made her heartbeat pick up faster. He tilted his head to the side, leaning close, his lips kissing just under her ear, mouthing there as he curled his fingers and shoved his fingers so deep, she stifled a scream. His other hand tangled into her hair, gripping her tight, making sure she understood that she was at his mercy, and not her own.

“Listen here—” He tugged on her hair until her eyes met his, and she let out a gentle sob of need. “Look at me—there you go, give me those eyes—” He put her forehead to his, and she spread her palms against his chest, feeling the warmth and broad expanse of him. “If you think for one second that you deserve more, you’ve got it all wrong.” He licked over his bottom lip, shaking his head. “I know what you did. I know that it was you.”

She arched her back, pressing her bare chest to his own, his flannel feeling so soft against her hot skin. She tried to grind her hips, but his other hand dropped from the back of her neck to her waist, keeping her still.

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t fucking lie to me,” he snapped. “You’re not sorry.”

She let out a shaky breath, shaking her head.

“I’m not sorry for doing it,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for making you upset.” She cupped his cheeks, kissing him warmly, using her weight to push him back against the couch. As they kissed, she felt his grip loosen just enough, and she moved her hips again. His fingers flexed inside of her, his thumb finding her clit and making her moan softly with relief. “I’m sorry for making a mess, Joel. I’m sorry for making you mad…” She moved her hips a bit faster, riding his fingers as her apology, giving him the moans he wanted to hear and drenching his lap to show him how sorry she really was. “I-I’m sorry for letting him touch me…”

“Fuck—” He kissed her back eagerly, trying to find serenity here. It was impossible with her. She was all heat and fire, all bite and sharp edges. There was no calm with her, no peace. Chaos followed her, and sex was a vice that she used with fervor. She didn’t know who she was if she wasn’t running. She had no idea what life was like without risk, without blood, without the good, bad things that had her on an adrenaline high constantly. If she came down, if she stilled for even a second, Joel feared what might be left of her. He feared he might not recognize her. He feared that without her pretty face painted with that sick, sweet smile, he might not like who remained.

Reluctantly, she pried his hand from between her legs. She slipped dirty fingers between her lips, licking her arousal off his calloused hand. She kept her eyes on his as she ran her tongue over his knuckles. They were bruised, split probably from wrenching answers from some poor soul or perhaps the boy he had pried off of her, and she soothed the bite of his wounds with wet kisses and her soft tongue. She let his hand go, letting her own slip between their bodies and work on his confining belt.

“Now you listen, Joel,” she murmured, undoing the buckle, listening to the metal clink as she loosened the denim around his waist. “If I ever find out about anyone else touching you, I won’t hesitate to do it again—” She cupped him roughly, drawing a grunt from him, and she smiled darkly. “You can’t hide anything from me. And you’re stupid if you think you can—” She swiped a thumb over the tip of him, spreading the slight dampness there over him. “—and I’ll kill every woman in this God-awful place just to prove my point.”

She kissed him, letting her tongue find his. She lowered herself in his lap, the heaviness of him in her hand making her feel even warmer inside. She let go of him, putting both hands on his shoulders as she sat down on him, feeling him slip between her folds. She grinded down against him, smoothing her slick over him and watching his face twist with need and want and rising anger at her words.

She gripped his jaw roughly, gritting her teeth.

“You’re mine, Joel—” She put her thumb to his bottom lip, forcing his mouth open. She gathered wetness in her mouth, leaning forward and spitting right onto his tongue. His eyes were blown wide, pupils dilated as he swallowed the spit she gave him easily. It tasted like her, like the cunt he adored too much, and if he wasn’t so embarrassingly hard between her folds, he knew he wouldn’t hesitate to put his face between her thighs. She was such a filthy, sweet, delectable woman for him, and it twisted his insides in terrifyingly good ways. “—and I’ll kill you, too, if you don’t stop testing my fucking patience.”

This was what really drove her crazy. They were fabric cut from the same cloth, two sides of the same coin. Instead of soothing the fires inside of her, he set them ablaze. The kiss they shared was all teeth, all bite, all rough breaths and filthy curses. They were both fighting for control over each other.

He pressed her into the couch, her back against the worn cushions. He gripped her hard, one hand on the back of her neck and the other gripping the outside of her thigh, her legs wrapped around his waist as he finally sunk into her with no warning. She let out a gentle cry of relief, enveloping him and squeezing around him as he buried himself until his hips were pressed to hers, his mouth at her jaw as he gave her no time to adjust. The feeling of him filling her to the brim, stretching her in every good way, would never be enough. She needed more, needed him inside of her, tangled around her, filling all her senses until it was all she knew.

“Can’t even call you a good girl—” Joel grunted, beginning a grueling pace as he fucked her into the couch, not letting up for even a moment. She wrapped her arms around his neck, arching her back, trying to meet his thrusts with equal power, but it wasn’t fair. Joel was too hard, too rough, too overpowering, and she was failing as she tried to keep up with him. “Cause you’re not—you’re not a fucking good girl—”

She mewled, pressing her lips to his, trying to drink in his words and taste them and kiss him until he couldn’t breathe. She arched her back more, pressing herself tight against him, and she moaned as he mouthed at her breasts, sucking the skin there and leaving soft bruises as he dragged his teeth against her.

“You’re always up to no good,” he kept growling. She panted, dropping her head back a bit as he kept up his pace. His hips were hitting her hard, punctuated by his words, and she closed her eyes to savor the stretch, the roughness, the perfection of his cock molding her insides to his. The squelch of skin on skin was so lewd, but it only made her wetter. “Always gettin’ into trouble…my pretty girl—”

My. Mine. She’s mine.

She was sin in one woman. She was the personification of every horrid, murderous thought Joel had ever had. She was the embodiment of his nightmares, the devil in disguise, the incarnation of the scars on his heart and the blood under his fingernails and the notches on his belt and the tick, tick, tick of the timer on his inner clock, the one he knew would break when he went just too far. Maybe that was why he loved her so much. Maybe that was why every part of her made him hot and bothered and needy. Maybe that was why Joel could not stay away from her.

Maybe that was why no matter what atrocity she committed, he never saw her as anything but his, and his only. He never saw her as tainted. Or evil. Or impure. She was just his, and that was enough.

That was perfect.

Perfection.

That was what her cunt had to be. It was perfection. Joel would drown in it if she wanted him to, if she allowed him to. He thought, selfishly, that relinquishing breath just for one more taste of her would be a kinder death than the one that probably waited for him. He thought about this as he nudged her head back onto the arm of the couch, going for the warm skin of her neck, biting it, kissing it. He wanted to bruise her and mark her, so darkly that she would find them in the mirror days from now and think of him.

He didn’t stop her as she threw her arms around his neck and brought their lips back together. She was whispering softly between kisses and whines, rocking her hips against his with just as much force. They were sloppy together. He had both hands on her hips, manhandling her taut flesh as he drove her body back to his again and again and again. She was so wet, dripping between them, a weeping cry from her own body that told him she needed him so badly, she would do anything to have him.

“Oh, now you’re quiet, honey?” He muttered in her ear, reaching up and putting his hand around her neck again. She sputtered as he sat back on his heels, yanking her with him, holding her up in his lap as he brought her body down on him over and over again. He looked up at her, at the pretty bounce of her on top of him, limp to his touch and crying for him. “Look at you—” he groaned, feeling the walls of her clench and squeeze and suck him in, telling him all too well how much she liked this, “—can’t even fucking speak—ugh—” he kissed her hard, “—have I fucked the brat out of you yet?”

“Joel—please—” she begged, letting out a soft sob of relief as his thrusts got shallower, faster. “O-Oh…” She put her hands on his face, cupping his cheeks, feeling the scratch of his beard rough against her palms. She met his eyes, could see the shine and the darkness of them, and she leaned forward to kiss him softly. Despite the grueling pace Joel had set, despite the bruising smack of his hips against hers, her kiss was delicate and sweet, taking his breath away. She was too good at that, at making him feel. “Joel…” She sniffled, tears coming down her face at how good he felt. “Joel, I need you…”

She was so pretty. It was all he could think about. He caged over her again against the cushions, this time with his lips against hers and his body towering over her, the warmth of him and space of him enveloping her. He wasn’t fucking her anymore, this was something else. He hiked her legs around his hips, grinding deep, his pace slow but his thrusts just as heavy. She needed him. Just a few words, spoken through her lips, and Joel was soft. Petting her tangled hair, kissing her warmly, pressing his cock deep into her and staying there for just a few moments before pulling out slightly and doing it all over again. He drew long, relaxed moans from her, and he breathed deeply as he thought about how much her cunt felt like heaven.

He didn’t know how it was possible. She was not an angel, anything but; everything she touched blackened to its core. But he couldn’t think of another word to call her, to call this. He only felt this searing pleasure in his dreams.

And buried between her legs.

“I-I love you, Joel,” she purred, arching her back. Her chest pressed to his, and he couldn’t help but dip his head and lick the sheen of sweet that had gathered between her breasts. Salty, dirty, entirely her, and he dipped his head again to suck her breast into his mouth and smooth his tongue over her nipple. She cradled his head to her chest, panting now, her thighs shaking a bit as she met his eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, a haze in them that was cloudy and drunk with bliss. There was lust, more than anything else. If there was love there, Joel had no idea; he had never seen what loved looked like in her eyes.

He didn’t think it was possible for her to love anything. And perhaps it wasn’t. She thought it was love. To her, nothing else could explain how she behaved around him. The obsession with him, the possessiveness that overcame her, the protectiveness she felt whenever he came home with new wounds that would scar, the revenge she sought when anyone touched him. She didn’t care whether those touches were warm or kind. He was hers, and she would make them sorry for putting their hands on him.

She tugged his face back to her, feeling that coil in her belly tighten and tighten. She put her forehead to his, licking over his bottom lip before kissing him hard. One hand slid to press between his shoulder blades, the other pushed against his lower back, a silent gesture to get him as close to her as possible.

His breaths became more broken and shallower. She arched her back into him, pebbled nipples poking him as he snaked an arm under her and used this new position as leverage to fuck up into her at a quicker, more aggressive pace. He punched into her again and again, quickening with every breath as he chased the mind-numbing feeling that was growing in him. She squeezed him, her entire body trembling slightly as she tried to take every thrust, but they were both losing to each other, in the feeling of one another. She gripped his biceps now, her nails digging in hard enough to elicit a harsh hiss from him. She could feel blood, but it didn’t faze her—she wanted to mark him, scar him, until no other woman could have him like this.

If another woman held him there, they’d feel her hands, where her nails dug into him, and they’d know they were preying on another woman’s territory—one they would not live to speak of. She thought of this as he fucked her into a pleasure-drunk headspace, her high blinding her. She didn’t even register the scream that left her until Joel was kissing her quiet, swallowing the sounds, drinking in the cries of her ecstasy and tasting her mewls. It was like her cunt was taunting him, begging him, scolding him for not coming just yet—it took only another whimper of his name for him to collapse on top of her in a fit of groans.

She thought she might have come again when he did, it felt so good. Her thighs shook, her body molding to his as she felt him sinking deeper into her, so snug, his spent trapped in her as they both refused to move away from each other. When he tried to move off of her, she kissed him, making a soft sound of protest and keeping him close.

“Don’t go—” she gasped, slipping one hand low and gripping the back of his thigh, coaxing him to slide deep again and settle there. “Fuck—” She craned her neck to bury her face into the side of his, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. She chased the closeness of him, the muskiness that the air around him held. She never wanted to leave this place. She wanted to stay here forever, Joel cock-deep inside of her, and she wanted him to keep her here and never let her leave. She wanted him to chain her ankles to this place and force her to stay, naked and waiting. She wanted him to use her, to never let her go, to be selfish and mean and merciless with her until she was nothing but his, his, his.

She wanted to forget her name. She wanted to lose her memories of the outside world and confine them to these four walls. She wanted to kill the sad things inside of her and focus only on the pleasure and the love and the unforgiving warmth that settled inside of her whenever she was underneath him like this.

She wanted to sink her teeth into his flesh and bite it, sustain herself only on Joel and whatever he would feed her. Because she knew she was dying inside, and only this feeling could save her.

She could not explain why she felt nothing inside when she did the things she did. She was not sorry for anything. She felt no regret or shame or sorrow. She didn’t think she could’ve done things differently or spoken softer or spared any more lives. The only time she felt even remotely human was like this—with Joel connected to her in the most intimate way possible. Then, for a few moments, she felt warm in her chest. She felt vulnerable. She felt new—as if she had been born again and was learning the differences between happy and sad, angry and alone, deep love and utter hatred. She felt all of those things with him and nowhere else, and she would fight tooth and nail to keep him here, with her, always.

There was no one she wouldn’t kill for him. No one she wouldn’t torture, no one she wouldn’t crush under her booted toes. In fact, she would take pleasure in it. She would seek out the feeling. Just like she did with the pretty girls that put their hands on him. Just like she would again.

Because she knew it would happen again. She didn’t know when or how or why, but she knew there would be more girls that would try and lure him in, more men that would try and cross him, but she would be ready for them. Because he was all hers.

They would learn quickly what that meant and the distance she would go to keep it that way.

She turned over, in bed now, laying on her back, her head settling against the pillow. He was turned to face her, their eyes meeting for just a moment before they went back to looking over each other. She reached over gently, her scarred knuckles meeting his cheek and running slowly down the skin there. Her eyes were soft, softer than he had ever seen before. She was looking over him, studying him in the light of the moon, letting herself commit the moment to memory. Something about it felt romantic; something about this made her feel something akin to emotion. She thought maybe this was why she cared too much for him.

He was the only man who had ever made her feel anything at all.

“So is this how it’s gonna be?” He asked lowly. His voice was gravelly and quiet, but it was still heavy with feeling. She met his eyes, her thumb circling over the apple of his cheek. “You don’t like how someone acts ‘round me, and you just…get rid of ‘em?”

She turned more, fully facing him, letting her thumb roam to trace the line of his nose.

“This isn’t…you,” he said finally, and this got a reaction from her. She laughed a bit, bitterly, shaking her head.

“Then you have no idea who I really am, Joel,” she murmured. She let her thumb fall to trace his upper lip gently. “I don’t think I’ve ever been anyone else. If you didn’t know that by now, then you haven’t really been paying attention.”

She leaned forward and kissed him softly, closing her eyes gently, breathing in the Joel that remained in the early hours of the morning.

“And I know that it’s you, too.”

“Wasn’t always me,” he muttered. When she opened her eyes, she saw a flicker of something in the way he looked away from her. Guilt. Abandonment, maybe. It was the faraway of losing something he had tried to hold onto. “Whatever I am now…wasn’t always me.”

She shook her head, leaning her head to rest against his shoulder.

“If you think…the way the world is now to blame for who we are, you’re wrong, Joel,” she said softly. “I don’t remember what it was like. Before.” She put her hand in his, intertwining their fingers. “I’ve always been like this. And so have you.” He moved his head to look at her, frowning, and she shrugged simply. “The before…all it did was hide you.”

Joel looked away, back to the ceiling. She was right. As much as he wanted to think otherwise, to believe that the end of the world was to blame for the man that he had become, the thought would be wrong. Inside of him had always been the man he was. The man that made the tough decisions. The man that killed someone before dinner and fucked the woman he loved later that same day. The man that bartered and tortured and murdered and crushed and fought like hell—this man was someone that had always lived inside of him—judge, jury, and executioner. There had just never been an opportunity for that man to come apart, to come alive, to manifest itself into the hungry, angry thing that clung to him now, the man that had never left him. Unlike her, the man he was had been dormant, hiding among the memories of his daughter and the life he once loved. She had always been this way; she never had a need to hide her ugly thoughts away, it was a person that had never left her. They thrived. They kept her alive.

A soft kiss to the side of his face made him blink the thoughts away. Another kiss brought him back to earth.

“I love you, Joel,” she whispered. “I love you more than anything.”

But now he believed her. In her own sick, twisted way, she did love him. In the horrid things that lived in her head, he was there, bubbly and bright and bathed in pretty lights. She was not good for him. She would turn him black and blue inside, she would take all the good that still rested in him, and she would bury it deep.

And selfishly, he wanted to do the same to her. So, “me…me, too, darlin’,” was what he said back to her. Because—fuck—if anyone was going to truly ruin her, it was going to be him.

He would make sure of that.

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