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wtftarot · 2 months

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PAC: Judgment

This one is going to be fucking intense, y'all. The Judgement card calls shit the fuck out. The Judgement card isn't judgemental though. It's all about self-reflection, taking a good, hard look in the mirror, and suspending your self-criticism so you can see yourself honestly. It can talk about a reckoning of biblical proportions, things being brought to the surface and nothing will ever be the same.

That being said this reading is for entertainment purposes ONLY and is not a substitute for professional advice in any capacity. Remember, use common sense, and don't be a dumbass.

Masterlist

Pick The Flag, The Angel, or because some of y’all’s guides have a sense of humor The Ass. And head on to your reading.

THIS IS THE JUDGMENT CARD. IT IS A TOUGH LOVE READING. IF THAT IS NOT WHAT YOU FEEL YOU NEED OR ARE IN GOOD HEADSPACE FOR, THIS ISN'T THE READING FOR YOU. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

The Horn

Ten of wands, Five of Cups, The Hanged Man, Five of Swords, Death Rx, Nine of Swords, Ace of Cups Rx, Eight of Cups Rx, Seven of Cups Rx, The Fool, and The Six of Wands.

Is it loud where y'all are at? Or is there usually a lot of noise going on where you're at? I don't think that has anything to do with the reading, just something I'm picking up on. Y'all know the Judgment card is not gonna pull any punches right? And you're ready for that? Alright then, y'all are stuck in the past and it's fuckin you over. I'm getting specifically that y'all replay embarrassing memories or replay times you fucked up over and over in your head and beat yourself up over them. Now most people do that to a degree, y'all though? Y'all do it a fuck ton. You need to stop beating yourself up for past shit. You don't have to start singing your own praises or whatever, just learning to stop that train of thought when it comes up would do wonders for you. I kept pulling cards for y'all because they felt empty, that's the only way I can describe it. Y'all are so fucking drained. It's like y'all are hanging around a well that's been dry for a while, but you won't leave cause what if you go looking and never find another one? THE WELL IS FUCKIN DRY SWEETIE. You refuse to let go of the past because what if the future is worse? Or what if you never find that again? Honey, I'm gonna give it to you straight (or bi?) By holding onto the past you are guaranteeing that the future will be worse. Hanging around a dusty ass well is worse than going looking for another one, full stop. I gotta be honest, it doesn't even look like you were happy with what you're holding on to. None of the cards talk about a happy past. I keep getting this imagery of ghosts haunting an abandoned house, but it feels like you're the ghost haunting your past. There's a vibe here too, that y'all are waiting for something to rush in and change things. Like some sorta lightning strike, epiphany, huge catalyst event that's like NOW, my life can start. Sweetie, that's you. You are the change maker in your life. I understand there's a fuck ton in life that's outside of our control, I get that. That's not what this reading is talking about. It's talking about how the choices you are making are keeping you stuck. How YOU are the catalyst for change in your life. Even small steps in the right direction will make a huge difference Your reading started with the Ten of Wands and ended with the Six. The imagery on them is really beautiful for this reading. In the deck I'm using, the Ten/Wands is depicted as ten sticks all tangled together, it feels like being stuck in a dark underbrush. The Six/Wands shows a blue butterfly flying out of a dark underbrush. You have the power to move toward a brighter future. You just need to take that power into your hands and stop trying to go back to the past. I believe in y'all.

Random ass vibes: enchiladas, butterflies, 888, pop-punk, 21, pink, pastel goth

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Angel

Seven/Cups, Knight/Cups Rx, Queen/Wands Rx, Eight/Swords Rx, Six/Swords, Wheel of Fortune Rx, Ace of Cups.

I'm seeing a watercolor painting of mountains. Someone painting scenery on a road-trip. This energy feels very soft, not gentle though. Like a cat that's cuddly but will tear you to shreds the second the mood strikes them. I feel like if you picked this group, you are one tough nut to crack. You've either had a rough life so far, are a rough person or both. Probably both. There's a softness that's calling you. A softer life coming your way, you probably feel it or have seen signs about it. It's freaking you the fuck out though ain't it? This life that you're being called to embrace, "being welcomed into" I'm hearing, is so soft and free and you've never felt that have you? It's terrifying. Honey. I fucking get y'all, I get this group wholefuckinheartedly. Y'all may be scared that this softer life will make you lose your instincts, that you will go soft and helpless. I think that's why the cat analogy came up, you won't lose it, babe don't worry. You won't be de-clawed just because you find a safe lap to curl up in. I'm feeling that the people that will come in with this softer life will love your edges and teeth. Knowing you will have their back when shit hits the fan will make them feel so safe with you and vis versa. Cause believe me they will have your back just as you do theirs. This energy is dark and intense and soft and warm all at once. It's so fuckin beautiful. Here's the catch, cause you knew it was coming: You have to start creating room for this softer energy. You have to start being softer with yourself, not judging yourself for wanting that softness. Stop ridiculing soft things, open things. I know you can take the hard times in stride but stop making yourself. Just because you can handle the hard shit doesn't mean you have to all the time. There is so much ease with this energy, it's just like a whisper in my ear. This is a time of rest coming to you but you have to kinda train yourself a bit for it, teach yourself that these things are okay. Otherwise, you may just lose your shit cause it's so fuckin foreign to you. (I keep seeing a flash of a long caption on instagram?? I don't know what that means at all, I hope it clicks for one of y'all. ) I keep getting the sense that y'all are worried about losing who you are if you embrace this energy, you won't. That intensity? The claws? The smartass mouth and edge? All yours to keep. We don't lose the night and storms when spring comes now do we? The only difference now is that you'll have a shoulder to lean on and will have moments of peace. BUT you have to stop judging yourself for even thinking about a softer way, seriously. How the hell are you going to be ready to embrace this fuckin awesome new chapter if you can't even THINK about it without mentally berating yourself? You don't have to do a complete 180 immediately, just stop yourself when you catch yourself repeating those thoughts. Just change the subject, do not engage. You can argue with those self-berating thoughts if you want, ngl this group seems like take no shit types. And let's be honest, we all know that you can't mentally beat yourself into the person you want to be, anymore than you could repeatedly neglect and destroy a seedling and have it grow into a huge ass tree. Things don't get stronger by being repeatedly broken down and destroyed. Y'all have had enough of the tough-love, hustle, push harder to do better. It's your turn for ease.

random ass vibes: art, Hozier, rainy forests, two-lane highways, candy, hammocks, fresh laundry, fire.

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Ass

Four/Swords Rx, The High Priestess, Three/Pentacles, Queen/Swords Rx, The Tower Rx, Seven/Pentacles Rx, Ace/Wands and Ace/Swords Rx on the back of the deck.

Y'all's guides think they're fuckin hilarious. Not only did they keep pushing me to pick the person's ass as the picture for your group. When I was writing up the lil intro at the top, I wrote something about a good, hard look in the mirror and I heard giggling and "yea look at the dick in the mirror". (jokingly calling you a dick, not in a really mean way, more like the way you call a friend a dick) They're giggling again as I'm writing this. This energy is very youthful and light. I think y'all tend to be very hard on your past self, very critical. I keep hearing "should've known better". You need to give yourself a break, especially from past mistakes. (Do y'all have trouble focusing? I cannot seem to focus on this group, so I'm sorry if it's coming across as very jumbled. )There's a deep need to go inward and explore your inner self. I think y'all actively avoid going inward, dealing with your own emotions. It's like y'all are running away from your inner child. Some of you may have had a rough childhood but I'm getting that it's more that y'all kinda bully your past self/ inner child, as they are one and the same. It's interesting, it feels like a few of y'all are demanding yourselves to be a way that you're not naturally and it's alienating your inner child. Now, I can't say who you are naturally, not my place. I can say judging by the cards, some of y'all are pushing yourselves to be more of a logical hardass than you are and for others of you it's the opposite, you're pushing yourselves to be more intuitive, touchy-feely than you are naturally. No Judgements for either side, I do want to say whether you figure out you're more or less logical/intuitive, you can still be into tarot and everything. All are welcome. All of y'all are punishing yourselves for not being how you think you "should" be though. I do mean punishing, too. Y'all can be downright cruel to yourselves when you try to be. Pay attention to what you're saying to yourself in those moments, as I'm getting that you may be parroting something cruel that was said to you as a kid. I mean, do you even truly believe what you're saying to yourself? Cause, honestly it looks like you do and value different skill sets and understand that everyone is different and does embarrassing shit sometimes, but you have a different standard for yourself. I'm hearing something like "Yeah but everyone' beats themselves up over embarrassing shit, everyone does this, and everyone hates themselves for past mistakes. Sweetie, everyone cringes at their past, not everyone is cruel to themselves the way you are. I don't think you realize how incredibly harsh your thoughts toward your past self can be. You wonder why you can never seem to connect with your inner child when you've become their biggest bully. I mean no offense and I'm not judging you, I'm just your guide's lil messenger. I didn't intend for this to be an inner child reading, that is what it needs to be, though. The Judgment card talks about calling things to the surface, and facing the truth of you head on. Your self-judgments are leaving your inner child feeling abandoned by you. You're picking apart the foundation of yourself and wondering why you never feel like you're on solid ground. This reading is calling you to go back to basics for yourself. I'm seeing for those of you who never really had a time when you could be a child, not only is this more relevant for you, it'll have more of an impact. Think back to what made you feel safe as a kid, or what you wanted to do to make yourself feel safe that you couldn't for whatever reason. Shows you watched or wanted to watch. The food you wanted. Buy yourself a toy, playdough is cheap as hell. If you're still pretty young and you're reading this, let yourself BE young. The world is so fuckin demanding and puts so much pressure on everyone to be "mature" and grow up as fast as possible and it's bullshit. Being easier on your past self/inner child will give you that spark and energy you've felt was missing. You're never too old to let yourself feel like a kid.

random ass vibes: spinning around til you fall, gardening, 222, birthday candles, art, blanket forts,

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#tarot reading #tarot #divination #tarot community #tarot cards #pick a card #pick a pile #pick a card reading #wtftarot #pick a picture #pick a photo #pac reading

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thewriterg · 2 years

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♡︎𝐬𝐞𝐱 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭♡︎

Pairing(s): Peter Parker x Fem!reader, Peter Parker x Siren!reader, Sub!Peter x Dom!reader

Summary: At first he would’ve just been colateral damage but you couldn’t let him go and Peter knew you wouldn’t let him go and if you followed the plan you would be together truly soon —kinktober day; 21—

Word count: 1.0k+

Warning(s): Pure filth, Peter is 21, Mommy kink, oral m receiving, p in v, breath play, aftercare, a peak of manipulation, dirty talk, pet names, one mention of a drug —if you blink you’ll miss it—, and language

A/n:—GIFs aren’t mine— I got inspo from an Eddie fic I remember I read a looong time ago I tried to search my like but that was a lost cause so here we are

Peter felt that familiar chill rushing up his body, you were here and he didn’t even need to look at the time to see what the clock read it was 3:00am the time you came every night for the past six months

He felt your nails run up his abs him having to be shirtless and he still couldn’t help the fact but shiver and it never failed to put a dark grin on your face before Peter finally opened his eyes

“That was some stunt you pulled today with that Michelle girl hmm?” You questioned pushing at his lips softly with the pad of your thumb before he knowingly took your finger Into his mouth as you could here the soft suckling noises echoing through the darkness of his room before your other unoccupied hand slipped to his neck

“You’re lucky all I did was break that coffee pot because I don’t share, you’re mine and only mine and I’ve think that’s something you’ve seemed to forget” Your grip got tighter on his pulse point and Peter could feel himself get dizzy but refused to tap out it was euphoria in one swift motion

Peter had always thought you could read his thoughts because after one more squeeze you were off his neck while the lost oxygen returned to its rightful place in his lungs before you began leaving cold kisses back down his abdomen stopping just above his waist and smirk etching its way on your face

“So hard for me, as always” Peters senses were going haywire your touch was everywhere and nowhere at the same time before you began to palm him through his pajama pants

“Only for you no one else, only for Mommy” The brunette began babbling and it made your heart swell at the thought reality no one could please him like you did you were his and he was yours only

“No one can ever please you how I do, you would be lost without me” Peter pants were gone in a blink as he nodded rapidly in agreement his hips bucking into nothing as the cold air hit his angry red tip

You hand inched it’s way to the base of his cock your thumb wiping a bead of precum from its tip using it as lube before spitting in your hand as you began to jerk him off not giving the boy a chance to adjust as your hand moved at a rapid pace

“Look at you baby, going so dumb and we’ve barely begun” You taunted as Peter whined loudly before you brought his cock into your mouth your tongue doing spins and spirals on the tip that had his hips bucking and twitching roughly while you hollowed out your cheeks taking his length whole gagging slightly before moving your head up and down never faltering your quick movements while you brought a hand to play with his heavy balls

Peter struggled not to take you right there and fuck you both into oblivion but he didn’t have permission to touch you and he knew that but he also knew he was on the brink of the biggest load in human history

“I’m gonna- fuck I’m gonna come please” Peter was about to fucking cry when he felt your mouth leave his cock with pop as you started kissing his tip then trailing down his thighs back up to his face

“Two more weeks pup, two more weeks and we can be together the moon will reach its apex and I can return to my true form” Peter could feel the vibrations from your words in his jugular as you nipped and lapped over his neck sure to leave marks

“Gonna be with Mommy?” His big brown doe eyes stared into yours his head tilted like a curious puppy that had your stomach flipping in knots you hadn’t felt like this in years, century’s even

“Yes pup, you’re gonna be with Mommy” You whispered sinking down on Peters cock as he moaned such pornographic sound that it could be used for a movie scene his broken words going into your ears and traveling down to your cunt every time you skin slapped together as you bottomed out before thrusting him back in there was a new “mghf” or “fuhh”

“You can touch me baby” You reassured and that was all peter needed to hear before he flipped you both over him now being on top of you slamming his hips into you relentlessly at a brutal pace while tears began to drip from his cheeks down his chin at the grip your pussy had on him

“You fuck me so well baby, gonna fill me up go ahead pup” You moaned his pace bruising his groin smashing into your mound as you could feel the pleasure bubbling in the bottom of your stomach

“Close. gonna come. coming” Peter came with the loudest cry he screamed in the last six months as hot ropes coated your walls as you followed behind him tugging the roots of his hair before he collapsed into you using his shaking arms to break his fall

At least five minutes had passed before you slowly lifted your hands to Peters cock moving it back and out of your clit as he whined nudging his nose into your neck

“Gotta get a towel baby” You muttered lifting from the bed and into the bathroom that connected to Peters room grabbing a clean towel turning on the faucet dampening a corner before returning to the room

You took the damp corner wiping Peter base following with his tip which he jerked his hips at the motion whining

“Too much, no more please” He whimpered holding your hands in place while you shushed him softly

“I know baby I’m all done” You slipped back in the bed next to Peters side as you hand made contact with his hair scratching gently as lied on top of you nudging his nose Into your neck breathing in your scent

He knew you wouldn’t be there when he woke up you had no choice but he only had to deal with it for two more weeks and you could be together, you would turn him so you could love each other forever.

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jazzthatonewriterchick · 4 months

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Sweet Like Sugar (Tattoo Artist!Geto x Black!Bimbo!Reader 18+ One Shot)

Pairing: Geto Suguru x Black!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: In which Geto gets paid a pleasant surprise at his tattoo shop when his favorite, cute little bimbo client comes to visit one night on his birthday to cover her ex's tattoo.

Warnings: Smutty Smut; 18+ (MINORS GTFO); Dom!Geto; sub!Reader; Bimbo!Reader; Reader is Black & Fem; Sexual Tension; Stripping; Oral; Deepthroat; Multiple Positions (Doggystyle, Fucking Standing Up; One Leg Up; Cowgirl); Body Worship; Dick Piercing; Mild Pain Kink; Unprotected PIV; Cum on Ass

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: A very happy birthday to my BABYYYYY!! I wrote this as a quick something to celebrate the special day & because tattoo artist!Geto has been burning a hole in my head AND my p*ssy. Enjoy! -Jazz

*********

It’s his birthday and he’s working late.

Not that he would’ve chosen differently. Geto doesn’t mind working late. Anything he can do to increase the popularity of his beloved tattoo shop, he’ll do it. He’s had this shop for over six years now ever since he graduated from art school and claims it as the reason for his career. Plus, celebrity popularity.

Ever since he tattooed Rihanna on one of her world tours, he’s tattooed many other popular figures in music which gained him more traction. He can’t be happier with the booming business, even when it is on his birthday. He’s never been the type to make a big deal about the day he was born, so working on inking up people’s bodies and scheduling appointments never bothered him. It does, however, bother Gojo.

“C’mooon, Sugu,” he whines, using the nickname he’s called Geto since high school. “You’ve been in this sad little shop since 8 in the morning! Let’s go out for drinks. It’s your birthday, after all.”

Geto, currently bent over his station cleaning off his ink needles and machinery in time for the next appointment at 8 PM (the shop closes at 9, but he lets the guy squeeze since it means more money), rolls his eyes. “7, actually,” he says. “And you know that the bars are packed tonight, Satoru. It’s Saturday. We can go during the week though.”

Gojo whines again as he shrugs on his coat and pops on his glasses that Geto thinks make him look like one of the three blind mice. “You’re so boring,” he sighs. “Why do I hang out with you?”

Shoko exits her post at the front desk, putting on her leather trench to hide one of her arms roped in ink. “Because he gave you a job out of college and lets you smoke weed on your breaks,” she mumbles as she pops an unlit cigarette into her mouth. Gojo glares at her while Geto laughs. He gave Gojo a job as a tattooer, along with Shoko (who is also the receptionist), because of how good their skills are. However, he would do it anyway because of their work ethic and the fact that they’re such good friends.

“I’ll go with you ‘cause I need a drink,” Shoko huffs as she shimmies between the tattoo stations to the front door.” “We’ll drink in honor of you, Sugu.” Before she leaves, she bends over and pecks Geto on the cheek, leaving a ring of red lipgloss. “Happy birthday,” she chuckles.

“Thanks,” he chuckles, wiping off her lipstick stain. “Have fun.” Shoko heads out into the chilly night, holding the door so Gojo can hurry up and join her outside. His blue-eyed friend stops and pats Geto on the shoulder, nearly knocking Geto’s cleaning rag and his ink machine out of his hands. “Don’t stay too long, alright? You need to sleep.”

He gives Geto a serious look as he says this. It’s no secret that his friends think that Geto overworks himself to the point of exhaustion, but when you’re a business owner, you have to make sacrifices. “Satoru, my appointment is only askin’ for an outline,” he chuckles. “Those only take me twenty to thirty minutes, tops. But I appreciate your concern.” He puts a hand on Geto’s, giving him a smile. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll hop on my motorcycle and head out of here, okay?”

Gojo nods, looking satisfied with that. “And let us know if a hot girl comes in,” he says with a smirk. “Maybe even that sweetheart you’ve got your head in a tizzy over.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively at Geto who rolls his eyes, but his body tingles at the mention of you, the “sweetheart” in question.

“Not head’s not in a tizzy,” he scoffs, standing up from his leather seat to get a drink, but mostly to escape his friend’s teasing. “Whatever the fuck that means. And she hasn’t been here in over two weeks.” Gojo watches Geto’s muscular back as he walks away, the dragon tatted on his back flexing along with his muscles. “You miiiiiss her,” he teasingly sings.

Geto cuts his eyes sharply at his friend, about to tell him off, but Shoko peeks her head through the front door. “Cut it out,” she criticizes Gojo. “Now let’s go before we can’t find a seat.” She nods at Geto with a smile, giving him a wink. “Take it easy, Suguru.” Geto hums in agreement and waves as he moves behind the front desk to their mini fridge.

“Remember what I said!” Geto calls as he heads out the door. “Let me know if she comes! I want details!” Then he’s off with Shoko into the city, leaving Geto alone in his shop. “Lock the door on your way out!” Geto calls, but they leave before his order reaches them. Sighing, he takes an ice-cold water bottle out of the fridge and takes a gulp of it before walking over to lock the door.

Though he loves his friends, he was counting on them leaving tonight since they’re heavy drinkers and Gojo is a partier. It gives him time to be alone with his thoughts and, though he will never admit it, he is hoping to see you tonight. He’s been staying late for just that reason, making the excuse to ink people for later appointments, count cash, and clean up shop. He’s been hoping one day that you’d pop up on his schedule or that you’d call so he can hear your sweet, sexy voice, but to his utter disappointment, you haven’t.

Ever since you entered his shop a month ago to get your belly button pierced, he hasn’t been able to get you out of his mind. It was a chilly but sunny day when he met you and he had just returned from lunch to get started with his next appointment. Gojo and Choso, one of his other skilled yet young tattooers, were working that day. Geto had walked in, positively pissed, in his wool trench after parking, locking, and hopping off of his motorcycle.

The bell above the door rang as he stomped in wearing his boots, wanting to stomp someone. “You won’t believe this shit,” he scoffed to no one in particular but knew that his coworkers would listen. “I almost ran over this guy’s dog who ran out into the street without a leash. The dude tried to blame me for it even though he’s an irresponsible dog owner! Then, the idiot was threatening to sue for…”

He immediately stopped complaining the moment he got a look at you checking in at the front desk along with your friend.

You turned around at the same time as his coworkers when he stomped through the door, giving him an eyeful of your pretty, brown skin and eyes highlighted by the pink you wore: a pink trench with flurry sleeves and neckline; a pink cropped sweater that exposed your tummy and juicy cleavage held up by your push-up bra; pink nails he wanted to feel wrapped around him; juicy, glossy, pink lips that chewed on some strawberry mint gum he could smell from the door.

The only things that weren’t pink on you were the black boots that didn’t make him any taller than you and your hip-hugging, low-waist jeans that flared out at the bottom of your ankles and hugged your waist and thighs something wicked. Geto was silenced, his heart thundering in his ears and blood immediately rushing to his cock. He was disgusted at that, but he couldn’t help it! It was like you stepped out of a man’s wettest dream. You were the perfect mix of adorable and sexy.

Shoko smirked at Gojo from across the room before clearing her throat to fill the awkward silence. “Your 3 PM is here, Geto,” she announced. You gave him a big, blinding, warm smile and he wore he nearly popped a nosebleed. “Hi!” you greeted him. “That’s me! I booked it online on your website.”

Realizing he looked like an idiot just standing there, Geto quickly recovered and cleared his throat, ignoring Gojo’s soft sniggers. “Uh, yeah,” he said. “Yes, my 3 o’clock. I’m Suguru.” He stuck out his hand to you which you took, your hand so much smaller and softer than his. “I’m Y/N,” you said in that sweet voice. “This is my friend. She introduced me to your shop ‘cause Ariana Grande got her tattoo done here.”

“Oh, yeah, Ms. Grande!” he chuckled. He had to take a moment to think about that because his brain was too busy focusing on how good you smelled and your pretty smile. “Yeah, she was very nice. Are you here for some ink? I don’t think you said anything about what you wanted for your appointment.”

You giggled, sheepishly so. “You guys do piercings, right?” you asked, blinking those big, doe-like eyes and doll-like lashes up at him. He nodded, afraid to speak. “I was hoping if maybe I could get a belly button ring. A pink one, please! Or one shaped like a heart!”

Your friend nudged you the wider and more excited your gorgeous eyes got. “Y/N,” she whined. “Don’t be so pushy.” But Geto chortled to himself, thinking it was adorable. “It’s cool,” he chuckled. “Well, follow me to my station and I can show you what we have.”

While your friend waited in the waiting area where snacks and drinks sat, you followed Geto to his workstation where a stool for himself, a retractable chair for his clients, and a large mirror plastered against the wall sat. He presented you with a glass case of rings to choose from, each one becoming more expensive due to the kind of metal used and whether the diamond in it is real. “Oooh, I’ll take this one!” you cooed, pointing at the fuschia pink diamond stud with a butterfly charm hanging off of it. “It’s so pretty!” Geto smirked, knowing that you’d pick that. “Lemme just sit up real quick,” he told you and you nodded before shedding your coat.

When you did, he watched as you bent over to toss the coat over your chair, getting an eyeful of your back and your ass in your jeans. He has never had a client make it so hard to work before. His cock practically became his head, throbbing intensely. He tried to distract himself by putting on his latex clothes and cleaning the piercing needle. Once done, he took out the earring and dangled it in front of you. “You like pink?” he asked, smirking.

You gave him a sheepish, shy smile. “Is it that obvious?” you giggled. “I just love the color. I think it makes me look cuter.” He didn’t tell you that he agreed. You then began to look around the store aimlessly, gaping at the sketches hanging up behind him. “Wow, did you draw that?” you gasped, pointing at a blue dragon emerging from a bed of water lilies. “That’s sooo beautiful! You design your own stuff?”

He nodded, flushing at the compliment. “Thank you, and yes, I do. I’m a tattoo artist who just so happens to own their own shop.” He patted the chair, giving you a warm, comforting smile. “Go ahead and get comfortable. Lie back for me.” You did so, sitting down and lying back against the leather cushion, but you looked tense. “How long have you owned your shop for?” you asked. “That’s gotta be hard. I’m going to college now, so I know how it feels to be so overwhelmed. Classes are cool. I hate math classes though. I mean, what do we need to learn calculus for? It’s pointless! I wanna be a teacher, not…”

You stopped, looking embarrassed. “Sorry. I talk a lot when I’m nervous.” He raised an eyebrow at you as he set out some anti-bacterial wipes and soothing cream. “Nervous?” he asked. “I can see you’ve gotten piercings before though.” He nodded at your ears and diamond nose ring.

“Yeah, but those weren’t for my body!” you argued. “But then again, I do wanna get my nipples done too, so I guess I’ll have to get used to needles.”

Geto didn’t tell you how much the idea of you having nipple rings turned him on. Maybe they would be pink too. “I have tattoos too,” you added. He once again quirked an eyebrow at you, happy to get to know you more to ease your nerves…and also because he was so intrigued by you. “Do you now?” he prompted, curious. “Lemme see.”

You first showed him one––a tiny purple butterfly on your right arm. “I got this one two years ago for my birthday,” you explained. You then rolled down your pants slightly, making Geto blush and think very naughty thoughts, to show him the name inked on your left thigh. “And this one is my boyfriend’s name.” You stated this so proudly.

Geto tried not to wither at the fact that you were taken. Of course, you would be! You were too damn cute to not be with someone. “Boyfriend, huh?” he asked. “How’d you meet him?” He hated how bitter he sounded, but you didn’t seem to notice. “We go to the same school together. Funny enough, he was my weed plug and he asked me out. We’ve been together for two years now.”

You gave him a crooked smirk as you pulled your pants back up. “I know it’s silly,” you sighed. “That’s what my friend said: to get a guy’s name tattooed on your body.” Geto felt a pang of guilt because he was thinking it. “I didn’t say that,” he protested. “You’d be surprised how many people come in here wantin’ their significant other’s name tatted on them.”

“Well, there’s the whole logic behind it that if you break up, you’ll have their name on you forever!” you stated. “But I know that’s not gonna happen. We’re doing great and he’s got my name tatted on him in the same spot!” you sounded so certain that Geto couldn’t dare argue.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he said, giving you a smile before fetching an alcohol swap. “I’m just gonna clean your belly button first and then you’ll feel a pinch. There will be blood, but not a lot.”

You nodded and braced yourself by squeezing the chair before he began to wipe at your belly button. “That tickles!” you laughed, endearing, hysterical giggles leaving your mouth as Geto did his thing. He smiled, loving the sound. He wanted to make you laugh always. Once done, he took the needle and gave you a soothing smile. “So tell me what you go to school for.”

You were happy to tell him and he found that the more he talked to you, the less tense and nervous you were. You talked the whole time he took the needle and pierced your belly button, trying not to laugh at your squeal of pain. You were just the sweetest thing ever. He also found that the more he talked to you, the more he wanted to know you. Once finished and your stomach was clean, you admired your piercing in the mirror. “Thank you so, so much, Suguru!” you squealed. “It’s so, so cute!”

Geto watched you shake your hips in the mirror, agreeing that the tiny charm looked so damn cute hanging from your belly. He tried not to stare too much, instead, spraying and sanitizing the chair for the next client. “Do you have an IG that I can tag you in?” you asked, taking out your phone with a Hello Kitty case. God, how cuter could you possibly get?! He just wanted to scoop you up and put you in his pocket!

“Yeah, and I’ll give it to you when I ring you up,” he stated, loving how sweet you were. Once he finished cleaning up and giving you the solution to clean your piercing with, he walked you to the front desk to pay and totaled it, telling you something completely lower than the actual price. “Oh…but that’s not the price on your website,” you stated, confused.

“I know,” he chuckled, looking down at you adoringly. “A college girl like you needs to save.” Realization flickered in your eyes. “That’s so sweet!” you cooed and, after you finished paying, surprised him by putting $20 in the tip jar. “For doing such a good job on me,” you giggled. “I’ll make sure I visit here again for a tattoo.”

Geto shared your smile, feeling his heart thud at the thought of you coming back. He wanted you to come back. “I look forward to it, Y/N,” he said, not realizing how deep and sultry your voice sounded. But you did and your friend had to come get you because your legs suddenly forgot how to function. You looked back at him over your shoulder before you finally left, making Geto wonder if he’d see you again. Gojo was more than excited to be nosey and leaned against the front desk while Geto counted change. “What?” he grumbled, not even looking up.

“Dude, you should’ve copped that,” Gojo sighed. “I would’ve definitely slid that cutie my digits.”

Geto glared at him as he dropped the coins in the register. “She said she has a boyfriend, in case you’re hard at hearing,” he pointedly said.

Gojo clucked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “That don’t matter! You could’ve given her your card for…business purposes.” He smirked suggestively, ever the perv. “Why would I need to do that if she has my IG?” Geto scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Da fuck I look like givin’ this girl my card with my number on it? She would’ve thought I was trying to pick her up. And besides, she’s probably not even gonna show up again.”

But you did. You showed up the whole month of January to pick up new solution or to get a cleanup on your butterfly tattoo. Geto always took you and if he wasn’t there to do so, you came back when he was on his shifts which made his heart flutter. You learned more about him and he about you during all of your sessions which became his favorites. You had become his favorite client because of how sweet you were to everyone. Your personality and presence seemed to brighten his shop a little more. He looked forward to the days you’d come in.

Until suddenly, you stopped. He hasn’t seen you in over a week and though he had your number in the system, he refused to call you. He didn’t want to overstep boundaries, so he just left it be, but he can’t deny that his heart aches every time the bell above the door rings and you’re not standing there.

After fifteen minutes of cleaning up and humming to the music blasting from his phone, it begins to drizzle outside which means that his appointment may be cancelled. Many clients cancel or don’t show up when the weather is nasty. No more than five minutes later, he gets a call on the shop’s phone which goes right to voicemail. “Hi there!” his appointment, an older man, says. “This message is for Geto Suguru. I apologize, but I have to cancel because of my work hours. I’ll reschedule for an opening next week. Have a good night!”

“Shit,” Geto cusses, not happy to have wasted his time, but also glad that he’ll be able to go home early and chill on a rainy night. So he busies himself with putting up the closed sign on the door before taking a Clorox wipe and wiping down the front desk. With his back to the door, he hears the bell make its tinkling sound behind him.

“Hey, sorry, but we’re closed,” he announces without looking behind him. “Oh, sorry!” your sweet, familiar voice says. “I wanted to…” Geto immediately stops cleaning to turn to face you. You stand there frozen with an umbrella dripping in water and wearing a cropped pink tracksuit and matching pants bedazzled with your name on them. You both stare at each other for a minute, completely silent and transfixed, before you manage to smile at him. “Hi,” you greet him.

God, how he’s missed that smile. “Hi,” he parrots, still in awe. “What brings you here tonight, stranger?”

Your smile grows wider, a little brighter than before but still slightly…off. You don’t have that light to them. “I had come to get something, but I can come back. I thought y’all closed at 10 PM.”

“We do,” Geto replies, already putting away the cleaning products, “but my client cancelled, so I was gonna shut down shop early…but I can still take you depending on what you need.” You look relieved at that and he wants to know why. “Thank you, Suguru,” you sigh. “I’m so sorry to interrupt your night.”

“Nonsense,” he chuckles, walking you over to his work station. “My night was gettin’ boring anyway, so I’m glad you walked in. Hop up.” He pats the seat to which you hop up on, your legs dangling from the seat. The sound of SZA swells around the shop, filling the silence. Usually, you’re so chipper and singing along to the tunes, but tonight, you’re completely quiet.

“So I’ve got ask,” Geto says, giving you a warm smile. “Where have you been at all this time? I haven’t seen you around the shop lately.” He begins to take the cleaning products for piercings and tattoos out to make it the conversation seem casual, but in reality, he is dying to know where you disappeared to. You shrug, looking everywhere but at him. “Just dealin’ with classes, you know,” you answer softly. “Exams, tests, papers…” He nodded understandably and rolled towards you on his stool. “So what are you lookin’ for tonight?” he asks.

And he doesn’t know what in that question gets to you, but you immediately burst into tears. A sob-like exhale breaks through that chest and sobs begin to escape those pretty lips as you weep into your hands. Geto is taken aback, not sure what to do. “Uh…did I say something wrong?” he asks.

You vigorously shake your head, your cheeks now coated in tears. “No, no,” you sniffle. "I’m so sorry, Suguru. I just…” You sigh, shaking your head. “My boyfriend broke up with me,” you confess. “The one whose name I got tattooed on my fucking thigh! TMI, but I caught him fucking another girl in his dorm when I went over to celebrate his birthday with a cake I made.”

Geto crumbles at the sight of you looking so low; so down; so insecure. He hates seeing you like that and he hates that your bitch ass ex caused this. “I came to get his name covered,” you admit. “Maybe with a flower or another butterfly. Something pretty to cover this ugliness. I’m sorry to spring this on you so late, but–“

You abruptly stop because Geto is looking at you in a way that he has never looked at a client. His gaze his hooded but fierce and serious, one of his hands gripping the chair arm and nearly brushing against your arm. “You don’t have to be sorry about a thing, Y/N,” he says in a gentle, sweet voice that soothes you and makes you feel safe. “I’d be happy to do this for you. And if it’s any consolation, a girl as sweet as you deserves much more than someone that hurts you.”

You stare at him for a moment, your eyes big and glassy from crying. He gives you a smile that you mirror, flashing him something he has been aching to see. “And plus, my birthday couldn’t get more exciting,” he chuckles. At this, you gasp. “It’s your birthday?” you coo. “Oh, that makes me feel even worse!”

Geto laughs, patting your hand comfortingly, ignoring the sparks that fly as he does. “It’s cool, really. I don’t celebrate my birthday like that.” He goes to roll away so he can get some designs for you, but you stop him by placing a hand on his arm. He turns, finding you staring him down with an unreadable, hot expression. “Well…is there any way I can repay you?” you ask, but there is a purr to it. It is soft and low, but Geto hears it. And suddenly, he feels as if you aren’t just here for the ink.

The air shifts to something less than professional and friendly. Though Geto should ignore it, he doesn’t, too distracted by your lips and thick thighs in those track pants. “Well, what did you have in mind?” he asks, his voice dipping an octave. To you, it sounds like dripping honey and makes you feel a way that your ex never did.

You suddenly slip off of the chair and stand in front of him while he sits. He wheels closer to you so you stand between his thick, muscular thighs in his jeans, looking up into your eyes. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way,” you say, your tone sultry and sweet. "I don’t want you to think you’re rebound ‘cause you’re not. I’ve always liked you, Suguru, but I didn’t want to ruin things with my ex...but now that we’re done, I’d like to take our relationship somewhere else.” You give him a shy smile that nearly makes him bust. “If you’re down for it,” you add, batting those pretty lashes at him.

Seconds later, his control flying out the fucking window, Geto finds himself snatching you down to kiss him, causing you to fall into his lap. He swallows your surprised mewls and soft moans as he kissed your lips, making his sticky with your gloss. He gives you those moans right back, desperate and yearning, as you straddle him. He can feel how warm you are the more he kisses and touches you, especially between your thighs. You grind against his crotch as your hands stroke up his chest and his squeeze and mold the thick, soft globes of your ass in your tracksuit pants.

“Finally,” he murmurs through your kiss. “I’ve been wanting you…wanting you for so fuckin’ long.” One hand trails up your back to caress your spine while the other rests on your ass, coaxing you to continue to grind your hips into him. “Me too,” you whimper as he nipples gently on your plump, pillowy-soft bottom lip. “I have too.”

He smiles through the kiss, happy to know that you’ve been aching for him even when you were with someone already. This is insane! He was so sure he would go home after locking up the shop, take a ride on his motorcycle, and smoke a blunt to end the night off. He doesn’t expect anything that happens tonight to go the way that it does.

He doesn’t expect to find himself stripping for you while you strip for him, laughing as you help each other with your clothes and steal hot, breathless kisses in between. He snatches down the zipper to your tracksuit while you snatch down your pants, leaving you in just your pink Hello Kitty bra and panties. He laughs at your undies, making you smack his arm. “I think they’re cute,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your lips.

You strip off his baggy, black sweatshirt while he takes off his tank top underneath, revealing his toned body and tatted arms to you. He never likes to brag about himself, but the way you’re looking at him like he’s a long-haired Adonis makes him want to.

“You’re so, so pretty, Sugu,” you mewl, dragging your long, pink, pretty nails across his skin. You run your hands over every part of him: his arms; his hips; his chest and pecs; his toned stomach that leads down to his V-line smooth with skin and inked with a lipstick mark. You giggle at the tattoo, running your thumb over it. “It ain’t someone’s lips in particular,” he explains, shivering at your touch. “But I wouldn’t mind if they were yours.”

“I’d hope you wouldn’t,” you purr before bending down to press your lips to the tattoo, leaving a stain of your gloss there. He returns the same action when he takes down your bra straps to expose your pretty titties and hard, tight, brown nipples to him that he pepper in kisses and suckles that make you moan and toss your head back.

He doesn't expect you to bend over the chair for him when he demands it: “Bend over for me,” he says in his deep, smooth voice that makes you shiver. You look back at him, presenting your ass to him to take for himself. Geto feels like a wild animal the way he moves your panties down to your knees and stuffs his face in your pussy. His hands mold and smack your ass, loving the way it jiggles and how you gasp every single time his hand comes down to hit one of your jiggly, soft asscheeks.

He doesn’t expect his lips and tongue to be in your pussy, licking, sucking, and lapping up your juices which you allow by pressing your ass further into him. “Fuck, Sugu!” you moan, moving one arm back to run your fingers through his long, black locks. “You’re so, so good at this!” You make sounds and move in a way that makes him feel as if your ex hasn’t been treating you right.

He wants to make up for all of it, so he continues to lap at your sweet, pretty little cunt and moan as he does it, drunk off of the taste of you. He’s drunk in love with the way your skin contrasts with his, wanting to see his cum dripping down it; the way your sobs and whines of pleasure bounce off of the walls; the way your nails massaging his scalp as you grip his hair; the way your ass and hips whine and grind into his mouth like a little slut in heat.

“You’re so good to me, mama,” he murmurs against your clit. “So sweet…like sugar.” You whimper at his words, sneaking your hand down to rub your clit while he tongue-fucks you against the leather chair.

He doesn’t expect to switch with you and have his long, thick cock wrapped in your soft lips, your tongue lapping at the pre-cum bubbling from the head. He loves the way you ogle his dick once you get his pants off, letting the appendage spring to life. He is thick, veiny, girthy, and has a stud piercing in the bulbous head that makes him blush.

"Aw, baby!" you coo happily, gently poking at the studded earring. "You have a dick piercing! That's so fucking hot." You settle on your knees, naked, your pretty eyes and doll-like lashes staring up at him while you stroke and gag on his cock like it’s your profession.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, tossing his head back at the sensations. He wants so desperately to keep looking at you, but the sight and the feeling is almost too much.

Your mouth is just so wet and your throat is so tight. When you release him, your mouth and lips are coated in spit and pre-cum, your lash line slightly glittering in tears. “You taste so good, Sugu,” you moan, biting your lower lip as you watch your hand stroke his wet cock up and down. He’s just as hypnotized, loving how your nails look wrapped around his thick, veiny dick.

“Am I doin’ a good job?” you teasingly ask. “Am I makin’ you feel good?” You dip back down to take him deeper down your throat, gagging and choking along his length. Geto grunts, one hand gripping your hair while the other digs into the leather cushion beneath him. “God, yes!” he moans. “You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me, sugar. Such a good girl for me.”

You giggle, drunk off of him, and continue to eagerly take him, your soft lips sliding along his shaft as your mouth goes up and down, up and down, giving him throat like he has never experienced in his life…and in his place of business, no less!

And he certainly doesn’t expect you to be bent over the chair again and him behind you, his hands on your ass and his cock sliding inside of you. Of course, he pauses to ask if this is still okay and that you can say no at any time. But you look back at him with a giddy smile and a need in your eyes that almost makes him cum. “I want this, Sugu,” you softly say, your hand pressing against his stomach just to feel him up. “Please fuck me.”

And when you toss that ass back into him, he just about loses it. He grips your hips and begins slowly rocking his hips into your wet heat, letting you get used to the feeling. He pays attention to your sounds and the way your body moves, your knees wobbly and body shaking. “You okay?” he asks, comfortingly stroking your back. You nod, panting heavily as his cock internally strokes your clit as it slides in and out of you. “You’re bigger than my ex, is all,” you shakily say. “But I can take it.”

Geto doesn’t tell you how happy that makes him. It gives him the chance to really fuck you like you’ve never been fucked before. “You’re so tight for me, sugar,” he moans, continuing to give himself to you nice and slow. “So wet too. You must be feening for this dick, aren’t you?” He takes you by the back of the neck and angles himself in a way that makes your moans grow louder when he fucks you.

“Faster, Sugu!” you beg. “Please fuck this pussy faster! Harder!” He can’t deny the way his cock swells and twitches inside you at the sound of your pleas.

He grabs your hips and gives you exactly what you want, fucking you so roughly that your knees begin to buckle and your moans echo with the music playing on his phone. His own sounds of pleasure mingle with yours, mixing with the sound of his cock lewdly swirling in your squelching, wet pussy that grips him tighter than a vice. “Take it,” he demands. “Take it like a good girl. You wanted this shit, right?”

He smacks your ass in time with his thrusts, causing sharp sounds of his hand connecting with your cheeks and your moans to bounce off of the shop’s walls. Your ass is just too perfect and he can't get enough of the way it bounces and jiggles so enticingly against his stomach as he drills you. He wouldn’t mind seeing his name tatted on one of your delectable cheeks or as a tramp stamp across your lower back or even on your thigh. He sees you now as his own. You are his.

“That feel good, hm?” he teasingly asks, continue to hold your neck as he pistons into you. “You like that, sugar? Y’know, this pussy is almost sweeter than you.” He pauses and slowly holds your leg up, waiting for your consent to continue. You nod, pushing back into him as if you can’t get enough of his cock.

For a while, he fucks you just like that with one hand holding your leg up and the other gripping your neck, holding you steady as he strokes that G-spot again and again, his heavy balls hitting that clit and making you tingle all over. But he doesn’t just fuck you from behind. He does it in any way you want and are comfortable with doing.

He turns you around, picks you up, and fucks you stand up, you dangling from his waist. You just about scream and sob with pleasure as his cock pounds into you like a jackhammer, your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala bear. “F-Fuck, Sugu!” you babble into his neck and hair. “Oh, my God, you’re so fuckin’ good!” He pulls you away to stare at the pleasure in your eyes and then kiss you, moaning hotly into your mouth. It only makes him fuck you harder, making you bounce against his cock.

When you finally cum is when he lies on his back on the floor and has you ride him. You do so with vigor and eagerness, bouncing up and down on his dick like the cutest little rabbit. He lies under you, his big hands gripping your hips and ass as you do your thing. “God, baby,” he groans. “You’re gonna make me cum soon.”

He can feel his balls tightening and that knot in his stomach threatening to snap the more your pussy slams down onto him and the more those precious titties jiggle and bounce in front of him. “Cum with me, Sugu!” you beg in that sweet voice, your nails digging into his pecs. “Give it to me please! I’m so close!” Ever the vixen, you randomly slow down and begin to giggle like a damn villain when Geto groans at the edging, your wet walls just too much to not fuck up into.

And that’s what he does. He takes a hold of you and grips you to him before slamming himself up into you again and again, his moans and grunts of pleasure mixing with yours as your mixed juices drip down his balls, making your cunt wet enough to fuck with vigor. “Cum with me,” he demands as you whine into his ear, his cock too much. “Cum on this dick, baby. Do it! Give it to me!”

It doesn’t take long for you to cum all over his cock, your pussy squeezing him tight enough where he can hardly move. When you do, it triggers his own orgasm. He quickly pulls out of you and fucks his fist until his cum spurts all over your ass and pussy, drenching you in it. His lips find yours, his moans and heavy pants mixing with yours as your tongues swirl with one another. You giggle into the kiss, causing him to laugh too. “Fuck,” you sigh against his mouth. “That was so good.”

“Mm,” he hums in agreement. Exhausted, you roll off of him and onto your back to stare up at the ceiling. Beads of sweat roll down Geto’s toned body and forehead as he heavily pants, recovering from the sex. Feeling your hand sneak into his, he smiles and interlaces your fingers.

“I expect you to be comin’ back regularly now,” he chuckles.

“If I can look forward to this, sure,” you hum. “That was fantastic! Way better than my bitch ass ex!” Geto turns over to look at you, loving how you look in the afterglow after getting your gorgeous brains fucked out. “Speakin’ of which, you wanna get back to the tattoo or just continue this?” he asks, nodding down at your thigh where your ex’s name still sits. “I'm with either, sugar. It’s all up to you.”

You look up at him with those eyes and inch closer to his body to wrap your arms around him. “In a bit,” you sigh, making him laugh as you squeeze him to you like a teddy bear. He embraces you back, pressing a kiss to your forehead and breathing in the scents of your sweet-smelling body spray and sex on your skin. He loves how small you are, how warm and soft you feel against him. He feels like you belong there with him and he with you.

After a couple of minutes of soft kisses and drawing shapes on each other’s naked bodies, you each get dressed and get back to business. After Geto fetches you some water and a snack, yu sit up in the chair and lay back while he puts on some gloves and moves your pants down to show the flesh of your thigh. When he fetches the tattoo gun, your eyes grow wide like a cartoon character’s.

He snorts at your reaction as he dips the needle in some red for your new tattoo. You chose a nice rose to cover your ex’s name. “Still scared of needles?” he chortles. You nod, focusing on the needle. “Just grab my hand and breathe, okay?” He puts out his hand for you to take, but you stop him from plugging in the gun.

“Oh, wait!” you exclaim and begin digging in your purse. You then pull out a bedazzled weed pen and take a hit, the smoke billowing from your soft, glossy lips that he wants to kiss again. The way they form an O makes his cock twitch. “Want some?” you ask and he leans in to take a hit. The smoke fills his lungs and he holds it as you lean in, prompting him to blow the smoke into your mouth.

Once relaxed, you nod, silently telling him to continue. “Here we go, sugar,” he gently announces. He plugs in the gun and it begins to muzzle. “Just breathe.” You do so, holding his hand and looking away as the needle gets closer to your skin. Once the first pricks come, you tense and squeeze his hand, but you still breathe. “Good girl,” he coos. “You're doin’ so, so well for me.”

You give him a wobbly smile, but the fear in your eyes has wained…mostly because he starts rubbing your clit. “S-Sugu,” you whimper, closing your trembling thighs around his hand.

“Just focus,” he instructs you as his thick fingers stroke your needy clit. “Focus on my fingers, sugar, okay?” You nod, giving him a cute expression that makes him want to fuck you all over again.

You do and all that is heard throughout the shop are the buzzing of the tattoo gun, the music, and your sweet moans.

THE END.

#smutty smut #black fanfic writer #my works #my fic shit #black coded reader #black writers #suguru geto x black!reader #geto suguru #suguru geto x reader #happy birthday geto #geto smut #jjk smut #suguru aka sugar

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pascalscoffin · 5 months

Text

Muñequita

-little doll-

Pedro Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Minors Go Away I Will Kick You In The Forehead. The first part of this is… not really smutty but like it still deserves a smut warning. Don’t get excited, you horny little hussy. Reader was not underage at any point in her relationship with Javier, just strict overprotective parents. Readers parents actually suck. Mentions of reader getting told to have an abortion. Javier finds out he’s a dad. Girl!dad Javi. He’s triggered when he finds out. We got Steve again cause the chaoticness is too much to ignore. Javier is in a silly good mood when him and the reader meet, mans is fucking dancing and everything. Reader uses English and Spanish when talking to the kid cause obviouslyyyyyyy. THEY HAVE A WORD OF THE DAY ITS CUTE. The kid is so dramatic I swear. Reader loves being a mom. Reader is the praying type but not the church going type.

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Six years ago you went on a family vacation to Colombia, which was literally the worst time to go on vacation to Colombia, your parents, though, had money and money meant comfortability if you put it in the right places, and apparently they had.

Six years ago, you met Javier Peña at a bar on a side of town you promised your parents you wouldn’t go to, you were of age, of course, your parents were just insistent that if you wandered too far from your cushy hotel, that you’d be wrapped up in something you weren’t prepared for.

You thought they were so ridiculous when Javier sat himself beside you and ordered a whiskey dry, eyes drifting towards you briefly like he was trying to figure something out before he spoke. “You don’t look like you’re from around here, Chiquita.” You’d been looking over towards a few couples dancing near the middle of the bar, bodies pressed close together as they moved in sync with the music, so when he spoke to you it surprised you a bit and had you double checking that he was talking to you.

You scratched the back of your neck. “It’s that obvious?” Javier chuckled softly and pinched his fingers close together. “Just a bit.” He hummed and looked at the couples you’d been watching as his drink was sat down in front of him. “You like the dancing?”

You looked towards the couples and felt your cheeks warm up as you cleared your throat before turning back to him and pinching your fingers close together like he had. “Just a bit.” He looked at you and raised a brow as he chuckled, nodding. “Okay, okay.” He set his glass down and then held his hand out to you. “Javier Peña.” You smiled and reached out to shake his hand, telling him your own name, feeling your cheeks warm up again when he repeated it.

He had you hooked.

Another drink between you and Javier had convinced you to try the dancing you’d been so enamored with, though when you actually thought about it, it was less dancing and more just.. moving against eachother to music, not that you minded, at all.

The conversation you shared while dancing was quiet, whispered just loud enough to be heard between the two of you as Javier asked what you could only assume was every question that popped into his head.

“What are you doing in Colombia? Medellin specifically?” “Family vacation, I had to get away from my parents and siblings.” “Oh, ya veo. Una huida querida.” Oh I see. A run away darling He’d chuckled, making you shrug sheepishly. “I guess so.” You’d said softly, your fingers fiddling with the collar of his jacket absentmindedly. “¿Cuánto tiempo?” How long? He asked.

Just half a drink more and you were letting Javier take you back to his apartment, as soon as the door was closed he was planting his lips on yours, his leather jacket being thrown to the floor before you heard the clink of keys hitting a table somewhere off to the side.

In his bedroom he nudged you back on his bed, your clothes now completely discarded on the floor of his apartment while he was still fully dressed. He had you cumming on his tongue twice before his clothes were off and he was climbing on top of you, you could see two gleams from the corner of your eye but you wouldn’t give that a thought until afterward.

You weren’t sure what possessed you to say it, it wasn’t a lie of course, but you had to be literally insane to say it, but when Javier reached towards his nightstand, where you assumed his condoms sat, you’d grabbed his wrist and looked up at him, shifting a little. “I’m clean and uh… I’m on birth control.. so.. we don’t have to use one. As long as.. yknow, you’re clean?”

After a couple reassurances that you were both clean and completely okay with what was about to happen, Javier was on you again, tongue tangled with yours as he positioned himself between your legs and slid into you, letting out a few Spanish expletives into your neck that you couldn’t quite make out, partially because his face was pressed into your skin, but also because you were letting out your own curses.

You’d never been with a guy as big as Javier. Girthy like him? Yes. Long like him? Yes. Both at the same time? Absolutely not. You hadn’t even thought it was something that was possible, that may be an over exaggeration but you couldn’t care less about that because that’s how it felt with Javier pushed all the way inside you, pressing kisses to your sweaty skin, damp from the Colombian heat. How and why the fuck was he wearing a god damn leather jacket in that shit?

“Mírame, querida.” Look at me, darling Javier hummed, noticing your eyes had started to drift to the areas around you, not to be nosey but just because looking at Javier with the way he was fucking into you, hair slick against his forehead and his skin absolutely fucking glowing with the orange light pouring into his room. You whimpered softly and shook your head a bit before Javier was grabbing your chin and making you look at him. “Dije. Mírame.” I said. Look at me. His tone was deeper that time and you didn’t dare look away from him after that.

After he had you good and fucked out, leaking more than one load, he laid beside you and grabbed a cigarette from his nightstand, letting you roll over into his side, you’d felt him tense a little bit against you and thought it was odd at the time, how he could fuck the daylights out of you but still tense up when you tried to cuddle. When you went to pull away, though, thinking maybe he just wasn’t the cuddling type or even the type to let you lean on him afterwards, thinking maybe he wanted you to go.

You felt his arm wrap around your waist tighter, completely silent with his head turned to you, eyes silent but pleading, begging you to stay. So, you settled back down, and then he was pulling into his side, each movement to get you closer just a little more hesitant than the last until you were pulled tight against his side, his fingers just barely tracing up and down your back.

You’d watched him smoke, any conversation between the two of you near-silent whispers like you were afraid to disturb the nice silence that had settled between you. Once his cigarette was out you thought maybe then he would make you leave, but his other arm circled around you, and then he was offering to share a shower before you left.

It was in the movements to get up for the shower that you saw the gun, and then the badge beside it, and suddenly all his hesitancy, the paranoid looking around you’d noticed in the bar, the constant tenseness in his muscles, the way he’d seemed to try and loom over you, protect you, it all clicked and made sense.

You didn’t ask him about it, if he wanted you to know surely he would’ve mentioned it or something, so you pretended like you hadn’t even noticed them, slipping off the bed with him and following him to a shower filled with soothing, soapy touches and soft kisses on bruised and nail-bitten skin, muttering Spanish apologies muffled by your skin and the sound of running water.

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Maybe it was the several rounds before you ultimately had to leave so your family wouldn’t notice you missing, or the several times you’d told Javier he could just cum inside you, or if his sperm was just that god damn strong, or maybe it was the fact that you’d forgotten to get your birth control refilled when you’d taken the last one.

Whatever it was, five years ago, you gave birth to a beautiful baby girl with big brown puppy dog eyes and a head full of gorgeous brown curls. She looked like Javier in every way, and while you were glad she was just absolutely gorgeous, it reminded you of a wonderful night you’d never get to relive again.

When your parents found out you’d gotten pregnant, and then ultimately found out that meant you’d gone somewhere they’d told you not to go, they’d almost completely disowned you, of course, they promised to overlook it all if you would just get an abortion and “free yourself the burden of being a mother” which is the exact way your parents had put it, no single added on, just “mother”.

Fuming, you’d told them to go fuck themselves and moved as far away from them as you could. Which was Laredo, Texas, of course there were places further away, but you’d always dreamed of living in Texas, and living in a small town was even better. Laredo hadn’t been your first choice, but after several homes in several towns that didn’t feel right, you’d finally found a quaint little home for you and your baby girl.

Your siblings hadn’t been on your side either, which was no surprised to you, they followed your parents around like puppies, eager to get their inheritance by whatever means necessary.

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“¡Mami! ¡Mami! ¡Despierta! I want to play!” Mommy! Mommy! Wake up! You were woken up by a tiny little body jumping up and down on your bed, demanding you play. You reached one hand out from under your duvet and start pressing your hand on different parts of your daughter’s torso and head, the girl giggling wildly as you wiggled your finger in her ear for the ‘snooze button’.

“Where in the world did this Valeria shaped clock come from?!” You laughed with your daughter before pulling her under the blanket as she squealed. You pulled the blanket over the two of you as she giggled and moved her long curls out of her tiny face, looking at you with all the love a little girl could muster.

“Buenos días mami.” Goodmorning, mommy. She said happily. You smiled and pressed a kiss to her little nose. “Buenos días, muñequita.” Goodmorning, little doll You said softly, tracing the bridge of her nose. “What’s today’s word, mommy?” You laughed softly. “Gee can I soak in your belleza first?” “I know that one! It’s beauty!” You smiled. “Very good.” You kissed her cheek before coming out from under the covers with her, pulling her into your lap.

You hummed as you thought, chin pressed to the top of her head. “How about… tareas?” She looked up at you expectantly for the translation, blinking those big eyes. “Chores.” You laughed softly. “It’s chores.” She groaned loudly and threw herself back. “Like sweeping?” “Well it’s more than sweeping.” “But you’re always sweeping.” “That’s because you’re always refusing to take your shoes off at the front door and you keep tracking dirt in my house.” You started tickling her sides as she squealed loudly and thrashed around, giggling.

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After a promise of ice cream, a trip to the park afterward, and McDonald’s for dinner, Valeria agreed to celebrate her word of the day by doing some chores with you. Your first trip was to the baby store for new clothes for Valeria, who was growing like a weed, needing a new pair of shoes every month it felt like, either that or you just let her play too rough, she was never bruised though so you could handle constantly buying shoes and clothes because she ripped them or got them dirty.

After the clothing store you had to pick up some mail from the post office, after the post office you had to go grocery shopping for just a few things you could never seem to keep in the house, probably because Valeria was basically a vacuum for anything food related, luckily none of it was refrigerated so when you remembered you had to stop at the home improvement store for fertilizer for your roses out front, you didn’t have to worry about leaving it in the car.

You were pushing a cart with fertilizer and a few pieces of wood for that hole in your fence to fix later, it wouldn’t be perfect but it would have to work until you could get a babysitter for Valeria so you could actually fix it. Speaking of Valeria, she was walking beside you, making a game out of stepping on certain tiles on the floor while you were trying to make sure you had everything you needed for the day.

That was when you heard it. A tiny little oof that you immediately recognized as your daughter’s voice, followed by a rushed and soft. “Mierda. ¿Estás bien, damita?” Shit. Are you okay, little lady? There’s no fucking way..

You cocked your head quickly and widened your eyes. Javier Peña was knelt right in front of your daughter, his daughter. “Valeria, please.” You rushed over to them and gently picked her up, dusting off her shirt. “¿Estás bien?” Are you okay? You asked softly as she nodded. “Estoy bien, mami.” Valeria said softly. I’m okay, mommy

You looked up from her as you heard Javier say your name. At first you wouldn’t look at him, but hesitantly you turned your eyes to his and cleared your throat. “Hi, Javi.” You said softly, standing up with Valeria on your hip.

Javier stood up slowly, his brows furrowed a bit as he looked between you and your daughter, pointing to her. “Is she-“ “mine.” You cleared your throat, nodding as you adjusted her on your hip, glancing away nervously. Javier watched you closely and slowly retracted his hand as he repeated your name. “Look I.. I can’t really talk about this right now.” Valeria was starting to get antsy in your arms, wanting to wriggle free and run around.

“Um…” you hesitated before slowly sitting her down and grabbing your pen from the cart. “I guess I can… give you our address and… and you can come by… later.. after she’s asleep and then.. then we can talk. Okay?” Javier was staring down at Valeria, watching her run circles around the two of you. “… okay.” He looked at you and managed to fish an old receipt from his pocket for you to write your address down. “Just uh.. come by at 8:30.. she’s usually asleep by then. Well, she’s usually in bed, I’m pretty sure she pretends to be asleep sometimes.”

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As soon as he left the home improvement store Javier drove to Steve and Connie’s, who’d moved to Laredo shortly after Steve returned back to the states, Steve insisted it was Connie’s idea and Connie insisted the opposite, but Javier was pretty sure it was both.

When he got there he knocked on the door until Steve pulled it open. “Javi- what the fuck are you doin’?” “I think I’m about to fucking die.” “What? You look fine to me what the fuck are you talking about?”

Javier pushed his way into Steve’s house and started pacing around the living room. “Javi?” Connie peeked out from the kitchen and raised her brows when she saw Javi’s state. “… I’m gonna get the whiskey.” She stepped back into the kitchen.

Javier replayed what happened in the home improvement store while Steve sat down and Connie came in with the glasses and whiskey, pouring Steve and Javier one before sitting down.

“Okay- so- I was at the home improvement store- one of the god damn horses broke out of the stables and wrecked a bunch of shit so I had to go and get wood and nails and shit-“ “is this why you’re freaking out?” “What? Don’t be stupid. No. Just- listen.” Javier extended one hand. “Anyway I was at the home improvement store… and it turns out I’m a dad.”

Steve was taking a sip from his whiskey and immediately choked on it, spitting it out into the glass and looking at Javier with wide eyes. He looked at Connie and Steve, hands on his hips. “Well… you sure are fast.” “I’m gonna kill you, Steve. Shut the fuck up.” Javier pointed at him.

“Okay- wait- just… go back a few steps. Between the stable and being a dad.” Connie held her hands out to him. “Sit down first.” Javier as a dad… she could see it, he was good with Olivia and although nervous around their new baby Jack, he was good with him as well.

Javier sat down and cleared his throat. “Okay- I was walking and I was looking at the list dad wrote so I would get everything. And I bumped into this little girl- god she’s so tiny… como una muñequita” like a little doll a small smile ghosted his features. “Anyway- fuck I’m getting off track- I knocked her on her ass, don’t look at me like that Steve I will shoot you right now.” Steve held his hands up as Connie rolled her eyes. “Javi.” “Right. Sorry. Her mom comes over.. remember uh… that girl I told you about?” He raised a brow at Steve. “The one that wasn’t an informant?”

Steve looked at Connie from the corner of his eye as she raised a brow and then slowly looked at Javier. “…. Yes.” “Okay- don’t be weird, it was nothing like that Connie, I was a complete gentleman when I spoke of her.” “Right… well I gotta hear about this girl.”

Javier proceeded to tell Connie about the night you had, obviously not the sex part, but everything leading up to it, how comfortable he’d felt with you, how he’d gone to the bar just to drink his sorrows away and go home, maybe see Gabriella, but you were sitting at the bar and you were so gorgeous in the light with just a little sheen of sweat and he talked about how you’d watched the couples dance, how he’d asked you to dance, which had both of them wide eyed and had Connie gripping Steve’s arms with her nails.

He talked about the conversation you’d had dancing, about what you would be doing for the rest of your time there, how long you would be there, which ended up not being long enough to see you again with how hectic things had gotten, at this point Connie was slapping Steve’s arm all over.

“Javi you like her!” She practically screeched. “W- I mean we had a good night but-“ “dude.” Steve chuckled and shook his head. “You danced with her.” He looked him up and down. “I’ve never even seen you jump for anything but a sicario. You’re not a dancer.”

“Okay but she wanted to try it.” Connie and Steve raised a brow at him again, waiting for him to fully understand what they were saying. He blinked rapidly and started shaking his head. “I’m here because I’m a dad!” He groaned and rubbed his face. “I’m supposed to meet her at 8:30. What if she doesn’t want me to be around her?”

“Well… if she told you where they live, then I’m pretty sure she probably wants you around her.” Connie sighed and stood up to go over to Javi and rub his back. “Don’t worry about what we said, I’m just excited for you.” She laughed softly. “You’re gonna be a good dad.” Steve hummed like he was thinking before immediately agreeing when Connie glared at him. “Of course you will, Jav. You’re good with our kids.”

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The rest of your day was spent trying to calm your nerves and getting Valeria ready for bed. Thankfully the trip to the park and running around in the McDonald’s inside playground really tuckered her out, so by 8:20 you were laying her completely conked out form in her tiny bed.

The next ten minutes you ran around the house trying to make it at least look like you had a handle on things. Which you did, but keeping a house clean with a five year old that had endless energy from hours 6 to 8 was like keeping a zoo clean.

There was a knock at exactly 8:30 and for a second you thought it couldn’t actually be Javi, he’d told you he was punctual but he wasn’t even a second late. You pulled the door open and sure enough Javier stood on the other side chewing on his thumbnail. When you opened the door he straightened up and cleared his throat.

The air was awkward as you invited him in and it just got more awkward as you led him to the couch, your home flooded with pictures of all of Valeria’s firsts so far, it was awkward when you asked if he wanted something to drink, and even more awkward when you couldn’t decide if you were supposed to sit beside him or in front of him.

Eventually, though, you slowly placed yourself next to him and looked down at your hands, not sure how to start the conversation. Javier was looking at you, though, you couldn’t really tell what the look was. “… Valeria’s a pretty name.”

You finally looked at him and smiled tightly. “Thanks.” You whispered softly, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I never told you it’s just- I mean we left like a week after that and I didn’t exactly have your number- I could’ve written you a letter but how the fuck would I even- ‘dear Javi, hi, remember me? Yeah, well, I’m pregnant- have a nice life’? I’m not an idiot, Javi, I know what your job is, you didn’t have time to be a dad, besides, I knew what that was that night, I wasn’t expecting a proposal or co-parenting or anything like that.” You shook your head.

Javier frowned deeply. “I would’ve liked to know.. so I could be there for you, both of you. Somehow.” You looked down and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” You said softly. “I guess I… I should’ve written you or something… but I was scared that…” “scared that what?”

You sighed and glanced at him before looking back at your hands. “.. my parents wanted me to get an abortion and… I guess I was just scared you would say the same thing.”

Javier was silent this time and you could see him wringing his hands together in his lap. “.. I couldn’t do it.” You mumbled softly. “I didn’t even.. consider doing it.” You shook your head and looked down. You had no problems with abortions, people could have as many as they damn well wanted.

But the idea of you lying on a cold table while they sucked an actual human being from your uterus, or however the fuck they did it, had made you physically ill, guilt had settled in your stomach at just the proposition of having one.

Of course, that probably had something to do with the fact that you always wanted to be a mother, as cliche as it sounded, ever since you’d gotten your first babydoll that was the one thing you wanted more than anything else. To be a mommy. And Javi made you one… you should thank him for that, make it up to him somehow.

“She… is she… happy?” Javi asked quietly, looking down at his hands as you looked at him, smiling softly and nodding. “Yeah.. she’s so happy, Javi.” She said softly, swallowing thickly as the guilt started to settle in your gut, you should’ve told him. He looks… conflicted, like he’s trying to decide how to feel about it all.

“… does she know about me?” His voice was soft, you didn’t think he could sound so.. unsure of himself. “I… well I told her that.. her daddy was somewhere else… making it safer for her to grow up.” You felt your cheeks warm up, looking down when Javi turned his head to look at you, just barely catching the way his eyes softened and the tension in his shoulders melted. “She never- I never let her watch the news reports so she doesn’t know that you’re her dad. But.. but she knows you’re out there.” You said softly.

“She..” you laughed softly. “She actually uh… when she first started talking the first thing I did was teach her how to pray just… out of habit, Y’know?” You shook your head. “Anyway… every time she prays before dinner or before bed… she uh… she prays that her papi superhéroe superhero daddy stays safe and.. catch the chicos malos.” You laughed softly bad guys

Javi was listening so intently, leaning so close, and then he leaned back and blinked a few times. “She thinks I’m a superhero?” No. No, no, no. Javi wasn’t a superhero. He was the farthest fucking thing from a superhero. Sleeping with his informants, working with Los Pepes, getting innocent people caught in the crossfire, all that shit he did.. superheroes don’t do those things.

You nodded a little. “Yeah.” You said softly, shrugging a little. “I mean- she’s five, Javi.” You laughed softly. “What five year old doesn’t see her dad as a superhero?” Fuck he’s gonna cry. He’s gonna fucking cry in front of you right here right now like an ugly blubbering baby.

“I’m not.” His voice came out shaky, his hands even shakier. You shrugged your shoulders a little. “No one thinks they’re a superhero- I mean- except for Batman and Superman and shit but they’re fictional. But you… you’re real.” You nudged him. “A real superhero.” You hummed softly. “Off somewhere else trying to make the world safe. That’s pretty much the definition of “hero”.”

Javi looked up at you like his entire world had shifted, which, you guessed it technically had, Javi got up this morning a single guy with minimal responsibilities, and by noon he was finding out he was a dad and had a baby mama.

He’d never really thought about being a dad, the few times it had crossed his mind, like when he’d seen Lorraine when he first got back, seen her kids, he considered being a dad, trying to settle down with a girl and have a family.. he could never see it. And then he found out.. he was a dad, he did have a family.

“… can I meet her?” He whispered after a while of silence, that conflicted look on his face before it softened and he was relaxing on his elbows before turning his head to you, looking at you with those same puppy dog eyes he’d looked at you with in the bar that night, and just like back then, there was no saying no.

You nodded slowly. “… yeah. Yeah you can. Of course you can.” You smiled softly. His eyes brightened up a little, still soft and curious, but eager now as he started to stand up. “Wait-“ you laughed and grabbed his wrist, looking at the watch and shaking your head. “Not tonight. It’s already after nine, she would’ve asked for some milk by now if she was up.” You coaxed him into sitting back down as he nodded hesitantly. “And.. I don’t want to overwhelm her at the end of the day.”

“Oh.. okay.” He cleared his throat and nodded, rubbing his thighs and nodding more. “Right. Obviously. That makes sense.” He took a deep breath and scratched his chin. “So how… how have you been?”

You smiled softly and nodded. “I’ve been good, working or taking care of Valeria.” You said softly. “How’ve you been?” Javier nodded. “Good, good. Working.” He cleared his throat a little. “… I’m sorry I never told you, Javi.” You said softly.

He looked at you and shook his head. “No, no it’s okay. It would’ve been dangerous for you to send a letter, Escobar had ties into every fucking thing… it would’ve put you in danger.” He took a deep breath. “I’m glad you’re letting me meet her, Querida.” He said softly.

You felt your cheeks heat up again and thought at this point you were probably steaming from your ears. Being around Javi again was bringing up all those feelings and thoughts you saved for night time, late when the world was asleep and you could have a few minutes to yourself.

“Of course, Javi. She deserves to know her daddy.” You reached out and slowly took his hand in yours. “And you deserve to know your daughter. I know you keep saying it was okay but it wasn’t. I robbed you both of so much just.. because I was scared and that wasn’t right.”

Javi turned his hand over and laced your fingers together slowly, taking a deep breath. “You don’t have a boyfriend that’s gonna freak out or anything?” You raised a brow at him and slowly smiled as you shook your head. “No. No I don’t have a boyfriend.” You laughed softly.

Truthfully you hadn’t been with anyone since Javi. The first nine months was obvious, you were pregnant and you were not about to sleep with some weird fetish guy, that’s what fingers and toys are for. And of course, once Valeria was born you liked to blame it on never having the time, but truthfully, with the elderly neighbors absolutely obsessed with Valeria, you could find a babysitter whenever you needed one, you just… going out while Javier’s baby, his genetic product, was waiting for you felt.. dirty, like a betrayal of some kind.

“Good that’s.. good. I meant not good but I’m glad there’s not any guy that I’m gonna have to punch out or something cause I’m pretty sure if anyone tried to stop me from meeting her I might kill them.” Javier nodded his head, so serious. “Okay, Rambo.” You laughed softly and laid your hand on his shoulder.

“I’ll give you my number and you can just call before you come over? I wanna make sure this place looks… not like a zoo by the time you get here, and knowing her it definitely will.” Javier laughed and nodded. “Okay.” He said softly, looking down with a smile as you got up to write your number down, glancing at him as you chewed on your lip.

“I.. I’d love for you to stay and catch up but… I’m afraid I might pass out on you so… you should probably get going. I’m not trying to kick you out or anything I’m just… very tired it’s been a long day. We went to the park and then she didn’t want to leave and then we went to McDonald’s and she didn’t want to leave the inside playground.” You shook your head. “It’s been a lot of chasing her around and bribing her with food and ice cream.”

While it was true, Valeria had really have you a run for your money with her energy today. The deep burning in your stomach is what was making you urge Javier out of your house, out of your orbit, and his scent out of your god damn nostrils because why the fuck does he smell so good and why is it literally everywhere?

Javier chuckled and nodded as he stood up and took the piece of paper you extended to him, the two of you lingering there for a minute, eyes locked in a silent, warm gaze that got warmer and warmer, causing that already hot pit to grow larger and warmer, urging you to get close to him, hold onto him and not let him leave this time.

“… I’ll see you tomorrow, querida.” You nodded, swallowing thickly as you walked him to the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow Javi.” You smiled softly and tilted your head to press a light kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight. Drive safe.”

Javier leaned into the kiss you pressed to his cheek, eyelids fluttering shut as he was thrown back to that night, how you’d kissed his cheek in the bar, and then again in his jeep on the way to his apartment, how you’d trailed the kisses from his cheek to his neck when he was buried inside you, and then again, laughing as you accepted his offer to take you back to your family’s hotel, nearly exploding when you’d told him you’d planned to take a cab, and then a final time outside the hotel, how you’d placed little kisses from his cheek all the way to his lips before saying goodnight.

He wouldn’t kiss you tonight, no matter how much those soft lips made him want to throw you back inside and just build off this little family he’d unintentionally put together. But he could behave. He had to behave. So, he returned the kiss to your opposite cheek, his thick arms enveloping you in a hug before he was sliding away from you and going to his Jeep with a final smile and wave before he got in, waiting for you to get inside before driving off.

He was a dad.

Holy fucking shit.

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#Javier Peña x reader #narcos #pedro pascal #pedrohub #Javier Peña #Steve Murphy narcos #Connie Murphy narcos #javier peña pedro pascal #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction

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alyswritings · 1 year

Text

Return of the Mom

Request: Hi love hope you are doing well (I don't know if you have watch shameless I was wondering if you could do that scene where Monica tries to take Liam) but like with JJ Maybank x sister reader (she like 7 or 8 ) like JJ and the reader mother comes back to come get the reader to come with her to another family that she started in her new life and then JJ goes into protective brother mode Thank you love

JJ Maybank x sister!reader

Summary: JJ and Y/N's mom tries to take Y/N.

Warnings: shitty mom, ig that's it?

a/n: thank you for the request! hope you all enjoy!

(gif not mine)

All of the pogues are at the chateau. Sarah, Pope, and Y/N are playing outside, the five not wanting the girl around the current topic of conversation. JJ, Kie, and John B are in the chateau and the Maybank boy is pacing while the other two are sitting at the island.

"I-I mean, the-- the fucking nerve. I-- she's gone for seven years and she suddenly just pops up and acts like she didn't totally abandon her two children and leave them with an abusive, drunk, coke head. She just expects me to magically forgive her and Y/N to have this close bond with her. Y/N doesn't even fucking know her!"

"Well, it-- it's not like she can force anything, right? I mean, she can't just take her." John B says.

"Legally, chances are she could." Kie argues. "I mean, unless she managed to find time to sign over her rights in the process of abandonment."

"She left when Y/N was six months old. She asked about mommy once in kindergarten and she's never really been mentioned again. Y/N gets that she doesn't have a mom, but her just-- just popping up."

"Look, she's only in town for a few days, right?" John B asks.

"She's leaving the day after tomorrow." JJ informs.

"Right. So just... try to keep her away while she's here, maybe allow a small bit of contact and she'll be gone before you know it."

"Right." JJ nods

- - -

The group finished dinner a few minutes ago, having just ordered pizza. Y/N takes a sip of the cup of Pepsi JJ let her have, looking up when there's a knock on the door.

The five teens share confused looks and John B opens the door, freezing at the sight of a woman he used to know well.

"Uh... hi." John B awkwardly mutters.

"Hi." Emily greets. Her voice gets the attention of all the others. "Um... could-- could I come in?"

"Uh..." John B looks back at JJ who gives a small shrug. "Um... su-sure. Yeah, okay." He steps aside, letting the woman walk inside.

"Hi, honey." She softly smiles at Y/N.

"Hi." Y/N mumbles, sitting on the couch next to Sarah.

"What are you doing here?" JJ asks.

"I, um... look, I-- I want Y/N." Emily says.

"You-- you want Y/N?" JJ asks. "Define "want.""

"I want to take her with me." Emily says.

"Excuse me?" JJ's eyebrows furrow.

"Look, I-- I know I fucked up with you guys. But I-- I want a second chance. And-- and I have a new husband and some good stepkids and-- and I just had a baby. She'll be safe there." Emily says.

"Sa-- no." JJ immediately shuts the idea down.

"JJ--"

"No!" He yells. "You-- you ditch her when she's a baby and then seven years -- almost a whole ass decade -- later, you just show up and expect to take her? Especially leaving her in the environment you know that Luke creates? Fuck no."

"She's my child."

"That didn't seem to fucking matter when you packed up and left!"

"I screwed up with you guys, but I'm trying to be good for my new family."

"How 'bout you fix the mess you created here first? You already had two kids, but you got tired and left us for somebody else with his own kids and started reproducing again? What? You gonna ditch 'em in a few months too?"

"I'm not gonna ditch them. Look, Y/N will be safer with me. My husband isn't mean, she'll-- she'll be able to get away from Luke."

"She doesn't even fucking know you or any of your new, perfect family members!"

"I'm her mother!"

"Yeah, and you're also my fucking mom! So where the hell have you been the past seven damn years?! Huh? Cause it wasn't here. You didn't protect her from Luke's drunk outbursts. You didn't change diapers, you didn't comfort her after nightmares or during storms, you don't help her with homework. You didn't teach her how to tie her shoes or ride a bike."

Y/N leans into Sarah's side, the blonde wrapping her arms around the girl, trying to silently comfort her knowing she's getting freaked out.

"Well, I can help now. She's gonna need a mom." Emily says.

"She has Kie and Sarah, she's perfectly fine without you. Before you get too invested in your new family, maybe try to fix your old family!"

"You won't let me!"

"You shouldn't even have anything to fix! You haven't been here! You don't get to randomly show up and whisk one of us away to a different life! You haven't done shit for this family. For me, for Y/N -- nothing."

"You know, she's on the A honor roll at school." JJ points at his sister who is curled into Sarah's side. Kie sits on her other side, a hand resting on the girl's arm. "She was the lead role in her second grade play -- and her first grade one. She's the best one in her dance class. She won the damn science fair."

"And she did it all by her fucking self." JJ states, his tone cold as he glares at his mother. "No help from you. It has absolutely nothing to do with you. It can't have anything to do with you cause you weren't fucking here."

"Look, JJ, honey, thank-- thank you for helping her, but... but I'm her mom."

"She doesn't even fucking know you! And helping her? I'm the one who's fucking raising her! Because her birth parents don't know how the fuck to do that!"

"I understand it's too late to make amends with you. I get that." Emily says. "But I can still try with her." She says. JJ scoffs, rolling his eyes as he shakes his head. The other four all have similar reactions, but stay quiet.

JJ watches Emily's every move with a heated glare as she kneels in front of the couch, right in front of Y/N. Sarah's grip on the girl tightens and Kie sits up a little, ready to shove the woman away if anything happens.

All of the pogues seem to get into attack mode in order to protect the seven year old.

"Y/N..." Emily rests her hand on the girl's shin. "Mommy is so sorry that she ever hurt you. If I did ever hurt you. I'm sorry. I hope you can forgive me and-- and please, come home with me. You'll have new siblings and a new daddy and you-- you'll get a two story house. You can have whatever you want."

Y/N stares at her for a few moments, Emily's hopeful smile never leaving her face. Y/N glances between her brother and his friends, all in protective stances, angry looks directed at the woman she's not familiar with.

JJ catches Y/N looking at him and he softens, his gentle blue eyes staring back at her, part of him worried she'll actually agree to Emily's proposal.

Y/N looks back at Emily who hopefully smiles again.

Y/N stands up and Emily's smile grows a bit more and she holds her arms out. But her smile turns to a frown when Y/N walks right past her and beelines to JJ, wrapping her arms around his waist.

JJ wraps an arm around her, his hand resting on her back. His other hand rests on the side of her head, his thumb rubbing back and forth to comfort her.

"I think it's time you left." JJ says.

"Y/N, just listen to me, I--" Emily walks over.

JJ breaks away from the hug and keeps a hand on Y/N's shoulder as he steps in front of her, blocking her from their mother.

"You need to leave." JJ states, his voice firmer.

"We'll call the cops." Kie threatens.

"Yeah, get out before we either call them or get physical ourselves." John B warns.

"Go back to your new family." Pope says. "Even though you don't deserve them, they seem to like you better than any of us."

"If you ever change your mind..." Emily says.

"We won't." JJ declares.

Emily quietly sighs, but accepts the loss. She leaves the chateau, going to her rental car and driving off.

"Can you and I go watch a movie?" Y/N asks her brother.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure, sweetheart." JJ picks her up, holding her. He kisses her on the cheek and walks to the bedroom. Softly shutting the door behind him, he walks over to the bed and sets Y/N down on it.

When JJ goes to stand up, Y/N keeps her arms around his neck, forcing him to stay bent down.

"Gotta let go of me so I can get the computer, shorty." JJ says.

Y/N unwraps her arms, but pats some of his hair down, combing her hand through it once which she always down when she's bored or just anytime she's in reach of his hair.

"I love you." Y/N tells him.

JJ softly smiles and he leans closer, kissing her on the forehead.

"I love you, too, munchkin." He says.

Taglist: @glxwingrxse @venomsvl @wildieflower @aliciacat20 @allyson15 @gabbylovesreading @itsmaneskinbitch @mrvlxgrl @ironmaiden1313

#jj maybank #jj maybank x sister reader #jj maybank x sister!reader #obx #obx jj #outer banks #outer banks jj

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uluvjay · 1 year

Text

Illicit Affairs- J.Hughes

Authors note: Hi! Hope you enjoy this it’s the first thing I’ve written in a very very long time, I apologize for any errors❤️

Summery: Being friends with benefits with the nhls pretty boy isn’t always the best

Gif isn’t mine cred to owner!

—

Make sure nobody sees you leave Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

“You gotta go” he said as soon as you caught your breath standing up and picking your clothes off the floor. “Already? J we just finished.” , “Boys are coming over soon, you know I don’t want them knowing about whatever this is” he said walking into his en-suite. Your stomach twisted at his words and you felt your heart break a little, you didn’t know why it had been the same treatment for the past six months. You stood up getting dressed as you heard his shower turn on, “Make sure nobody sees you! And keep your head down”. You didn’t reply as you slipped out of his bedroom and grabbed your keys off his kitchen counter.

Everything started six months ago, you’ve been friends with Dawson since diapers and when you moved to Jersey for a job he was more then excited to introduce you to his friends. However you and a certain center got a lot more than friendly your second time going out to a bar with them. Since then you and the first overall pick had been in a friends with benefits relationship that absolutely nobody could no about, however what Jack didn’t about was the feelings you have for him. Despite how shitty he treats you, the way he stops whatever he’s doing if a family member calls, the way he raves about his siblings, the way he took care of your body when you were alone, and his helping nature drew you right back in every single time.

Leave the perfume on the shelf, That you picked out just for him

You sighed when you seen the text from Dawson pop up on your screen, the devils had a big win tonight and you knew he was inviting you out.

Hey! Big win tonight wanna come to Lenny’s with us?

I’m not sure, I don’t really feel like drinking tonight Daws

Aw come on for me plz? You don’t have to drink a lot and I’ll buy you nachos

It’ll only be me, Jack, Nico, and Nate tonight so we can go easy

You sighed even harder, you really didn’t wanna go out or be around Jack tonight know what it’ll more than likely lead to but you couldn’t say no to your best friend.

Okay fine

Yay your the best ever y/n! See you at 10

Looking at the time and seeing it was already 9:30 you went to get dressed and touch up your makeup from the day. You settled on a simple black body suit and jeans before going and picking your scent for the night, you’d typically go with the one Jack loved and you always wore for him but decided against it.

As you walked into Lenny’s you could already spot the group as they weren’t hard to miss. However you did seem the miss the girl that was sitting under jacks arm, you noticed her and immediately looked over at Jack who was already looking at you with a smirk. You didn’t get to dwell on the pain in your chest for long though as Nico pulled you into a tight hug. “Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it” he slurred slightly but you weren’t judging he had a big night himself with four points. “Me too, congrats on the four point night!” You tried to sound happy. He didn’t get to respond as as Dawson pulled you into his arms and gave you one of his signature hugs.

You noticed out to the corner of your eye the girl with Jack was pointing at you and talking in Jacks ear. “Y/n! Come meet my girlfriend Stella” Jack said causing you to stop breathing for a second. A girlfriend? Two days ago he was buried inside you and two days before that as well. But nonetheless you turned to the little table and introduced yourself, “Hi I’m Y/n” you said putting your hand out for her to shake, all she did was look at your hand with a dirty look and say “I’m Stella”.

You just simply nodded and announced you were going to get a drink from the bar. As you were waiting for your drink you felt a presence next to you and the smell of a very familiar cologne. ”You never gave me my hug” he said, “Jack you were sitting down, I wasn’t coming all the way around a table just to hug you” you replied slightly irritated. “Well I’m right here” he said with a grin on his face, you knew he wasn’t gonna stop so you gave him a weak Side hug, but as you went to pull away you heard him sniffing. “What the hell are you sniffing?”, “you, your not wearing my perfume” you weren’t sure what to say back, he noticed? You knew he liked it but you didn’t think he paid that much attention. “Didn’t want to” “yeah but you always wear it when you know you’re gonna be around me”, “I just didn’t want to tonight jack” you said grabbing your drink and walking back to the table.

Don’t call me baby, look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

Two weeks later you found yourself on Dawsons couch bawling your eyes out and telling him everything. How it started between you and Jack and how it had pretty much ended, thankfully he wasn’t mad that you and Jack had been sleeping together. But he was pissed about how Jack treated you and the fact Jack had been dating Stella for three months. After everything he let you go nap in his guest room but forgetting to tell you he and the boys had planned for them to come over and watch a football game, so when you woke up to a familiar hand stroking your cheek you were a little more than surprised.

“Baby?” Jack asked as he seen you waking up and registering what was happening. “Why were you crying? And why are you in here? Did something happen?” He started bombarding you with questions.

“Go away” you said in a weak voice, “what? No I’m trying to make sure your okay your face is covered in dry tears and your eyes a swollen baby” the sincerity in his voice made you want to cry even more.

“Don’t call me that Jack, I’m not your baby” , “Yes you are” he said with a slight laugh but you weren’t laughing. “I told Dawson” you blurted immediately seeing his face drop into a serious one.

“Huh? Told him what? About us? Why the fuck would you do that Y/n” he said getting a little mad now. “Because I’m done Jack, I can’t take it anymore I’m in love with you okay! And you treat me like shit. You’ve been fucking me for the past six months but you’ve had a girlfriend for the last thee”

He didn’t reply you could see him thinking and trying not to say something hateful. “I can’t help you fell In love with me” he said. “Me either but I did and I can’t take it back which is why I’m done, I don’t wanna be hurt anymore I want someone that truly loves me J” you said starting to cry a little. “Okay..I respect your decision” he said giving you a kiss on your head and leaving the room.

And that’s the thing about Illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and longing stares, it’s born from just one single glance, But it dies, and it dies, and it dies a million little times.

Part2

#jack hughes #nhl imagine #dawson mercer #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #angst #nico hischier #nj devils #new jersey devils

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boizandgurlzinthehouse · 7 months

Text

𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮?

summary: y/n didn't fell well in the last year... and she probably never will feel herself well again. word count: 2.832k trigger warning: SUICIDE, SELF-HARM (really, don't read it if it trigger you please please please), psych ward, signs of mental illnesses, heartbreak, hallucinating, screaming, farewell letter

count your fingers. breathe in, breathe out.

"are you doing this again?"

y/n sat on her bed, smoking a cigarette as she read the newest tabloids. others were watching tv in the lodge, but she preferred to out out some titles and interesting articles. the date stated 1995, may 3rd.

"you are no longer in the newspaper. they're dumb, never writing anything in these papers, fuckers."

scratching her neck, her nail broke at the end. it was weak ever since she got here, sleeping and eating was difficult also.

"but they were true about me."

she looked at him, pulling her knees to herself.

"fuck you, they weren't."

kurt sat at the leg of the bed, now the closest ever. he always stood at the door, sat by the window, or sat on the ground, facing her.

just keep counting. six, seven, eight...

"you look like you need a rest, love. dark circles doesn't fit you."

something constantly buzzed in her mind, like a radio band is always on, even if there's no music and no jokes. or the tv in the lodge at 2am, no shows were playing, she always talked with kurt at night, until the nurses didn't guide her back to her room. she was alone here, at peace, doing what she liked to do --writing her diary, reading books, painting her nails. he wanted to paint kurt's too, but he never came close to her, never let her touch him. he was distant, but in a comforting way.

"who do i need to look beauty for?" y/n asked, exhaling the smoke. kurt smiled, pointing at himself.

"for me."

"yeah, of course."

take your medicine. place a pill on your tongue, then swallow it down with a gulp of water.

the next dose of pills were laying on the plate, waiting for her to take them with a cup of water. they trusted her enough to take it alone, since she almost scratched her wrists from freaking out too many times. the clock on her nightstand ringed, it was time.

"you know i'll never disappear, even if you take those?" kurt laid back on her bed, reaching his hand to the ceiling.

brushing her hair, y/n turned away her head from him. she didn't want to hear this, and to turn to her sane sense.

"if you live only in my head, why can't i just make you go away?" she whispered, her eyes lingering on the lace of the curtain, forming an angel and a bunny.

"because you don't want to let me go."

looking at him again, the buzzing was so intense and it wasn't pleasuring. the voice wanted to tell her something, but it never could. it was a void. she was a void.

am i telling this to myself too? y/n felt tired, picking a pill, popping into her mouth. she ate more pills than actual meals, in the first two months, it was strange to even eat after only living on little pieces of medicine for so long. she looked at kurt, he was still here. ten more minutes and he'll be gone, but the pills only made her tired, they never sent him truly away. or, maybe it was easy to crawl into her mind. laying down, she used her boney arm as an extra pillow, dragging the comforter up on her body.

"when i wake up, piss off."

"can't promise, princess." kurt said, leaning on his elbow as he saw her closing her eyes.

days went like this --waking up before 10am, taking pills, skipping breakfast because the pills always caused her nausea, playing and talking with the others in the psych ward, talking with her own psychiatrist, eating lunch, taking pills, resting in the afternoon, reading the tabloids every wednesday, watching the telly or reading a book before dinner, and then, taking the day's last pills, and then sleeping all night, but she often woke up, sometimes two or three times even.

a knock woke her up from her deep slumber, making her shake. looking around, kurt was not around anymore --at least he kept his poor promise. a nurse, dorothy was standing in the door.

"good afternoon, y/n. you have a visitor."

it was strange. she broke her connections with most people, only dave and christ knew that y/n was still in here.

"who?" she asked, getting up to put on her shoes.

"his name is dave grohl. do you know him?" dorothy asked, making her nod. standing up, y/n went out on the door, seeing dave. walking up to him, dave smiled at her, but it was something uncertain in his eyes. y/n gave up for caring about other's feelings a couple months ago, since she couldn't even deal with hers.

"hello, angel! how are you?" he asked in the sound like you ask from a child, hugging her lightly.

"totally fine." really, she was in a psych ward almost a year from now on, what could she say?

"can we go for a walk? that girl... maybe dorothy? said that we can go for a little walk, i want to know what's going on with you."

stepping outside, y/n breathed fresh air only when she opened her window, and went for a short trip with the others once in three months. the air was calming, and the sun didn't shine too bright, flowers grow on the edge of the sidewalk. dave was so strange, like he also lived in her mind. but he doesn't have to know about that.

"so, what's up? hanging around, uhm..." he wanted to continue, but y/n looked at him.

"chill, dave. i know this place is a horror house. i'm pretty fine, dealing with my things and stuff... and you?"

"i'm fine also. me and jennifer talked about having kids, but i'm not feeling the time yet."

"i felt that." she and kurt had frances, y/n loved her as her own daughter, even if that crazy woman courtney fretted her for being in the baby's presence.

"i have some pictures about bean, do you wanna see them? courtney was against it, but... i thought you'd like."

"that's really nice from you, dave."

seeing the pictures, she felt like the whole universe laughed at her. the buzzing started again, she tried to smile. "how big she is!"

"yeah, well, she is just like her fath-"

dave suddenly silenced. because everybody knew. everybody knew that y/n got in here because kurt died, her mind couldn't comprehend the fact, and she began to see him. she began to hallucinate, and most of the time, she just laid on her bed and looked at the ceiling, not eating, not drinking. if she wasn't crying or screaming, she was sleeping or just being like a sack of potato. the most miserable sack of potato. almost a year, and she didn't even made the smallest progress. she clearly, medically went crazy because of her lover's death.

"look, y/n... me, jen, chris and his wife is going on a trip... you should come too. it's much warmer there in california, you could loose up a little bit, don't you?"

y/n scratched her arms, looking at the stop sign at the end of the road.

"it's a really nice idea, dave. thank you. it's just... what if kurt-"

"what? what about kurt?" dave asked, getting angry. "sorry, but what fucking about him?"

"nothing, just... nothing, really, i just don't want to go."

"because of him? y/n, i don't want to be mean, but did you look at yourself? his death caused all of us pain, but you literally got sick from it."

"what about me? what about me, what about me?" she yelled. "don't say that he's dead, because i fucking see him everyday, and i'm not gonna let it slip!"

"do you see him right now, huh? do you see him? because if yes, then you are just the same as those girls who get shocked to be normal just a little bit!"

"and what if i saw him? what if i saw him and he just could see that how big of a cock your are, fuck you, dave!"

he laughed like he doesn't believed what he just heard.

"here we fucking are again, y/n! because i'm a good friend of yours, i'm gonna tell you that nobody fucking sees him, nobody who's normal! i thought that it's just some aftermath of your depression, but..."

"but what? i am crazy? i am compulsive? i am fucking hopeless? because you know, every fucking day was a menace since things got fucked up!"

"no, you are fucking worse than you were when he died!" dave screamed, trying to reach for her arm to get her back to the psych ward, but y/n clawed at him like a cat, while from the tip of her throat, an enormous shriek came from her, and then y/n just snapped.

"HE MAY BE DEAD! AND EVEN IF HE IS, I WISH I COULD DIE EVERY DAY JUST TO FREE MYSELF FROM ALL OF THIS VOID!" her vocal cords almost teared up as she screamed, crouching on the ground, holding her head. this was the end, the waves crashed above her head, the endless sea of her depression caged her in.

like a switch finally turned down, y/n tried to collect her breath, but it didn't helped. she went too deep, and the last breath of hope was sucked out from her.

"are you okay? y/n, fuck, are you alright?" dave asked her. y/n stood up, brushing her hair from her face.

"yes, i think everything's okay." she felt her own voice static, but it didn't matter.

"okay, then... shall we go back? you must be tired."

"yeah. let's go back."

dave didn't even know that he saw her the last time alive.

"i hope you get a little rest. i think it wasn't a good idea to come, but... i care about you. we all do." he said inside, y/n pulled up the muscles of her lips.

"it's okay. it was good to see you, dave." giving him a hug, it lasted a little bit too long, but he wanted too, so it wasn't a problem. she just wanted to feel loved after so long.

"see you later, y/n."

"yeah, see you too, dave!" she waved to him from the window, dave got out his camera from his car.

"do this again! wave and say, 'hi everybody!'"

"hi, goodbye, good morning, good afternoon everybody!" she sang while faning with her hand, smiling. dave waved to her the last time, then he got in his car, riding away.

do kurt miss christ and dave just as she?

1am. 1995, may 4th.

not a soul walked on the hallways of the ward. it was peaceful, only the small droplets from the fountain harmed the silence. only one bathtub, filled with water, a hand hanging on the side of the white porcelain. little curls of steam floating in the air.

"are you sure about that?"

he was here again, with her. kurt leaned on the brim of the tub, looking at y/n as she collected the pills. she's gonna swallow all of it, with two gulps of water, and then... she didn't know what's going after this, but she couldn't handle it any longer. life was too heavy, she felt it on her shoulders, her spine, her head, it crawled it's weight into her guts from day to day, a new day, a new weight.

looking at him, she stopped in her movements.

"did it hurt?"

kurt only smiled at that, saccharine in his smile.

"did life hurt?"

"only when you weren't there." she replied, then, placing the first dose of pills into her hand. "i wrote a letter. i hope they find it. and i hope i'll find you."

because she hoped, really. she had hope, not for life, but for him. she felt dumb every time she saw lame romance movies about people can't live without each other, but it turned out that it was true. she literally died without him, and air got much more suffocating.

looking at the pills, she looked up to the cross on the wall in front of her. so this is the end.

"i'll look for you, kurt. i love you." she said, not even paying attention to the fact if he was there or not, even if he just lived in her head. downing the pills, chug, another doze of pills, chug. just a couple of minutes, and no days will be spent with agony and crying, screaming, watching shitty movies, trying to live.

somehow, it was comforting to her.

laying back in the warm water, she saw kurt coming closer to her. her vision began to get blurry, and she felt stomach churn, her heart and liver exploding, but it was only a little pain. her lover bend over her, and maybe he touched her, kissing her forehead, but she didn't felt it. there was no movie in front of her eyes, playing her whole life, there weren't any so special things from books the writers always talked about. it was just laying down and resting for awhile.

in her last moments, she felt nothing else but warmth.

dear everybody, or anybody who finds this,

i never wasted too much words about anything. maybe i should have done, but i'm not gonna change this, so please, don't judge me. it's rude to judge dead people anyway.

everyone who thinks that my actions is in connection with kurt, they're right. i don't want to brag about my mental state, let's just say, i didn't feel well in the last couple of months. people around you change you, taking you to a ride, and i guess that i wasn't ready for the end of the ride. in the end, i only want you to remember that how wonderful and gentle, unique and perfect creatures we are. i loved myself, always, i just didn't love the way i felt.

some words to the people, because i was too much of a scaredy-cat to talk with them in the last rounds: dave and chris. you two are truly wonderful, the best guys i could ever imagine. i'm sorry that you have to get to know about this in a letter, but please, never let kurt's memory die, and maybe, don't even let mine. i didn't do a lot of good things in my life, but i loved. i loved and cared, and maybe that can be valuable even for you. courtney, i know we've never been good friends, but maybe, we never could be. i just want to wish you strength and courage for the rest of your life, i've never invalidated your feelings. maybe i felt just like you, excluding the fact that i don't have a lovely supergirl. frances bean, you little star; you won't remember me, but i'll remember you. you are the most fantastic girl i've ever known, and you'll gonna rock the world, just like your father did.

i don't want you to be sad. i wasn't sad, just a little crazy. living our lives without our loved ones claims us to be strong and brave, but i'm not enough brave for it. you're gonna do it instead of me, and my gratitude will chase you forever.

never forget to love and care! i did the same.

y/n y/l/n

she opened her eyes, sun shining through her eyelids. where the hell she was? feeling something soft under her touch; she laid on sand. little rocks pressed into her palms as she sat up. she didn't know where she was, and she wasn't even certain if she did what she did. coming to her senses, the waves crashed in the ocean only a few foot apart from her. washing the shore, it almost get wet her too. it was peaceful and unusual.

but she was not the only one sitting on the beach.

a figure, 60 feet from her sat just like her in silence, looking at the ocean and the dawning sun. could it be...

standing up, she was unsure in her steps, but somehow, she managed to go closer. it was him. instead of screaming and jumping, she simply crouched beside kurt, looking at him, so she was sure that it's really him. the wind blew his hair, his lips surely were salty from the air. brushing through his hair at the back of his neck, the blonde curls felt like silk. he was an angel.

without saying a word, y/n leaned her head on his shoulder. she could touch him now, watching as the sun bleed through the sky. she felt something warm in her chest–

–sure it wasn't reality. but it didn't even needed to be.

a/n: this is my first oneshot in this genre, and to be honest... i don't want to write more. i just had a very depressed couple of weeks, and this just came into my mind. i won't write fics like this, it turned out that i like domestic comfort and fluff more. if you liked it, or want to request, write in the comments, dm me or write here

stay safe, love yourself girliez,

louisa

#kurt cobain x reader #kurt cobain #nirvana #90s #dave grohl #chris novoselic #send me requests

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cherryyan49 · 10 months

Text

stay with me

an isaacwhy fic

she/her prns, uses of [name]

kinda based on the song:stay with me by miki matsubara

a/n:hii! I'm back with a slightly different vibe fic, finally smth not besties to lovers ik ik. it will be returning I'm just saying c: anyways this is just a comfort type fic, so basically all fluff so enjoy <33

* . °•★

It was rather quiet in [name's] apartment. The sun was setting, allowing the golden colors to seep through the windows, filling the room. Numerous candles were lit as she sat on her couch waiting for a text from her boyfriend. She had known Isaac, her lover, for years before realizing she was in love with him. It started out sweet and soft, marking just over six months with the label. The relationship is still soft, but you can most definitely tell you're comfortable with each other. She was bored and felt like seeing him despite him coming over just a few days ago. You looked around your living room, spotting the fresh Statice flowers he had gifted you one night. A soft smile formed on your face, glancing over at your phone from a buzz.

'I'm on my way, and we're gonna go for a little adventure, hope you're up for it :3 I'll be there in ten <3' -isaac

The girl giggled to herself, and blew out each candle around her place to get it ready. No matter how many times they've seen each other, it still sends her heart racing.

After what felt like an eternity, a knock was heard on her front door. Immediately opening it, Isaac's arms were found right around her, melting in her touch. It felt so intoxicating to him, yet not bothersome. Letting go, you had invited him in, wanting to ask where the two of you were going this lovely evening.

"It's a surprise, but it's something you love. Aside from me, obviously," he teased dramatically.

Teasing the girl was something Isaac took much pride in, to see her reactions, to see just how she'd respond to loving him. No matter how many months pass, he still cannot get over the fact that he's with you. After fighting with himself, and finding himself longing at her and everything she did, he's finally with her. Isaac can't help but smile and tease when he's with the girl, he's in fact still swooned as if it's day one.

In response [name] rolled her eyes playfully. Just because you're together does not mean you don't banter with one another, but she took the latter's word as she walked up to him. Grabbing his hands softly, she placed a gentle kiss on them and Isaac couldn't help but feel weak in the knees. How can this girl, still, have an effect on him? He giggled softly, grabbing her hands back and leading her out the door they were once at.

➶ ｡˚ °

The two of you were in his car as Isaac refused to let you get the aux on this lovely evening. He had a specific idea in mind, japanese city pop, despite her fussing she was about to play that. Isaac smiled widely and playfully winked in response at the girl in his passenger side of his car. The melodic songs played softly, filling up the car as Isaac drove to his very secret location. That was until someone wanted to banter with him once more,

"What if I recognize where we're going?," [Name] questioned as she looked out the window, trying to get something out of the guy.

But he refused to budge, "Nuh uh, if you do, just um," he paused, "–close your eyes?"

The girl laughed, causing Isaac to softly grin to himself. She shook her head but complied with the latter, and decided to push him just a bit further.

"What if I don't wanna close my eyes, mr. why?"

"Baby, I will turn this car around and take myself on this date instead," he threw his head to the side to stare at her briefly. You couldn't help but giggle proudly at your work of pushing his buttons, not in a serious way of course.

The sun was settling down more than earlier as you've reached atop a grassy empty hill. Your eyes lit up and immediately looked towards Isaac, who's finding a place to park. The area is filled with trees and beautiful greenery, looking over a majority of the city. The sight was breathtaking, making it one of your favorite spots to decompress.

Isaac turned the music up as he rolled down all the windows so that they could enjoy a little something while sitting outside.

[Name] got out of the car and leaned on the hood of it. Joining her, Isaac pulled his girlfriend closer towards him, snaking his right arm around her waist. The atmosphere was calm and quiet, with the music softly playing as you watched the sky's color fade and bleed into one another.

"It's been so long since I've watched the sunset, Isaac" you said while taking his hand into your own.

Isaac smiled gently, "I know and I thought maybe you'd like to see it again, for fun, and with me," he replied just above a whisper. The air felt so intimate between the two of them, so surreal. [Name] leaned back to face him while smiling sweetly.

"Thank you love," she leaned back in and gave him a kiss. It was a gentle, sweet kiss, to show her appreciation for the idea. And Isaac ate every bit of it up. He loved doing things with you, simply being in the same room gives him all the joy in the world. But being sat next to you, in this atmosphere, doing something you love, made him fall twice as hard as he was before. He couldn't stop himself from smiling when he was around you as he smiled into the kiss, and placed his forehead on yours before placing a light kiss on it as well. Isaac’s eyes lingered on the way the pinks and oranges reflected on your skin, basking in the welcoming sun. If he knew that the golden hues complimented you so well, he would have done this ages ago.

Not to mention how he looks as well. His eyes were glittered and the sun rays bounced off of his brown curly hair, causing a slight blush to appear across your face. His choice of outfit didn't make the situation any better as he wore a black tank with a black short sleeved button up, opened, over it. It was one of his best fits, in your humble opinion. His skin was kissed by the setting sun, and god was he something. [Name] laid her head on Isaac's shoulder, breathing in deeply as his hands played with the hem of your shirt. Giggles were shared between the two of them, along with quiet confessions and lingering touches.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

As the sky began to darken, you got up and offered your hand out towards Isaac. Confused, he takes it and you start playfully dancing with him. Getting the hint, Isaac giggled and spun her around. Stay with me played aloud in the background as the two of you messed around. Isaac couldn't help but softly laugh as he enjoyed every second of this, dancing like you're the only ones in the world. Normally, he wouldn't be keen on dancing, especially if anyone saw, but he loved it with a certain someone. She made him feel alive in a sense, the same way he made her feel. It felt so cliché and silly, but it warmed your heart hearing him enjoy himself.

You snuck a laugh when Isaac began to sing dramatically as he swung his hips slowly with the song. It was ridiculous but it was a sight to see. He grabbed your left hand, spinning then dipping you smoothly with your free hand landing on his chest. His face was barely two inches over yours, as a rosy tint spread across his cheeks as he smiled. There was a brief pause in time, that's what it felt like at least, before he gently kissed her. It was rather more passionate than before, but it was endearing–until his stomach rumbled causing her to giggle.

"Someone's hungry," she teased as she fumbled her phone to check what time it was.

"Uh no, I'm Isaac," he joked as he was embarrassed, gaining a look in response.

"That was lame, come on I'm also hungry," she grimaced teasingly.

"Lame or not you loved it," he teased back, pointing his finger at her.

"Oh be quiet, I'll leave you here to starve," she laughed as she pushed him into the car. Isaac laughed with her, waiting to see what else the night held for them.

*☆•° . *

a/n: I had fun writing this ngl, thought I would give yall a nice lil break from my usual. I'm not too sure how I like this style, but thought I'd try it out :P anyway I hope yall enjoyed <3

#isaacwhy #group chat #isaacwhy x reader #the group chat x reader #the group x reader #tgc #the group chat podcast #the group chat #idc if this is cliche #let me have a moment hehe

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hyunverse · 2 years

Text

mornings like this ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ i.n

i.n && reader. genre — fluff, drabble. note — lee know's version here. lmk if you want a version of another member <3__<3

“wake up babe, wake up!”

the darkness blanketing your vision soon changes to speckles of light — jeongin had turned the night light on, so it seems. you groan, eyes still closed and body still tucked in fluffy white quilt. you try to block out your lover's voice, clasping your pillow close to your ears.

jeongin taps your thigh with his cold hand, much to your annoyance.

“baby i'm serious. wake up,” he adds, tapping your thigh once again.

you take a deep breath, forcing your eyelids open to see the man kneeling in front of you. he's dressed in a green hoodie and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back. his blonde hair and the wedding ring on his left ring finger gleams under the city light seeping through the blinds.

“why are you all dressed up?” you question, taking a quick glance at the clock on your nightstand, “it's six in the morning.”

“i know,” he retorts, fingers busy running across your skin, “go to mcdonalds with me?”

the question has you checking the clock and his face over again. mcdonalds. at six in the morning. it's like jeongin is asking to get smacked.

“are you insane?”

he leans down to press a kiss against your lips, which you gladly return.

“insanely in love with you, yes,” he makes a clever remark — an attempt to woo you into getting up.

it's working, and you hate to admit it. something about that oh-so painfully cheesy line and his cute smile is making you all fluttery inside.

you groan as you stretch your arms upwards, body shifting around as you do so. jeongin's satisfied. you can tell by the way his smile turns wider.

with jeongin's help, you manage to sit down on the bed, blinking excessively to get used to the lighting. the blonde rushes to his closet to grab a hoodie for you.

“do enlighten me on why in the world you want to go to mcdonalds at the break of daylight,” you sigh, watching him from the bed.

“because i'm craving for their hashbrowns,” jeongin replies, walking back to you. he helps you with changing; you love how you could still smell his scent on the hoodie.

once your head pops out from the neckline, you ask, “and you couldn't wait until a reasonable time to get the hashbrowns?”

“i'm hungry 'cause we had an early dinner last night.”

“and who's fault is that?” your reply has him rolling his eyes.

it's his fault. the night before he had insisted on getting an early dinner; as early as 5pm. something about your body needing time to digest before going to sleep; you didn't care much about the reason. you followed anyway because well, well, doesn't love own the power to make one do foolish things?

6:30 am is displayed on the clock by the time you're at the door. jeongin is kneeling down in order to tie your shoelaces — he'd decided to match your shoes as well.

“come on, hop on,” your husband innocently asks, bending down in front of you while tapping on his shoulders.

“what?”

“i'll give you a piggyback ride.”

you raise an eyebrow, “are you telling me we're walking to mcdonalds, jeongin?”

“no. i'm walking. you're riding on my back.”

needless to say, the rest of your day consists of back massages and lectures from you, specially for the love of your life — jeongin.

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callsigns-haze · 5 months

Text

Pretty like a crime

Chapter 4

Pairing: Agent Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Singlemom! Agent Y/n 'Cobra' Y/l/n

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: This is the fourth post to my new series so please be nice! I'm going to try to make this into a series so please show this story a bit of love and reblog!

Summary: Cobra is finally back on the agency and is finally back in the job. With Kai at home she has to jumble being a mother and a agent. She's sent to her first U.C mission but never thought that she would meet a blonde, green eyed Texan...

Warning: Mentions of gun use, ptsd, mentions of death, mentions of shooting, flirting, mentions of abuse, description of dead body, death, blood, undercover work, alcohol use.

Part 1/ Part 2/Part 3

"Come on, Justin, they're not THAT bad," you say as the two of you walk on the icy footpaths back home from the fancy, uniformed, private school the two of you attend together. As always on the way back, you always discuss the rude people in your classes and the backstabbing ones that one second are nice and the other they hate your guts and in the classes you attend that happened on a day to day basis.

"Did you see the way Paris stared you down once she saw that you earned full marks and not like her losing only six," he says, readjusting his bag strap as it slowly slipped off his shoulder. He was right, Paris hated your guts ever since the two of you started the first year, she saw you as a competition, a threat but you didn't care, not about her opinion anyway. "Come on, I'm not going to think about Paris anymore! It's Christmas break, and she's the last thing on my mind!" You exclaim as you rub your mitten covered hands together to cause some warming friction.

"Yeah, two weeks with my dad home," he groans. Justin and his father didn't share the best kind of relationship. His dad was always working abroad but wanted his two sons to be top notch, at school, sports and in life. In his father's words, 'he didn't want failures', which you thought was out of line. His dad and Tom were quite great friends, though he did see how sometimes Mr. Cadence was out of hand.

"You can always come over to my place, from time to time," you suggest to Justin, knowing that he'll show up at your window late at night anyway. He needed an escape from his family life, from reality and with you he had that. You never judged him or winced in disgust but understood him, listened to him and let him express himself. "You know I'll be there." "Yeah, I do. But my pop's or mam don't mind you around so you're welcome any time. Not only through my window."

You adjusted to Tom and Sarah, they were your true family. Your mother and father figure, a while back they adopted you and you became a Kazansky, you were part of the family and they were your parents. The people you need in your life and the support you'll always will need. They were your home. Your feeling of safety.

"I'll think about it, just give me time and we'll see each other. Even if it's on your roof." He says laughing as you two make it to your house gates. It was a big house, a milky white colour with old tangled vines wrapping up the edges' gripping onto the building. It wasn't a big walk from the gates to the door but I did have a quite wide driveway with a fountain in the central like some sort of roundabout. "Hey, when are your parents home?" Justin asks as you lean against the metal cool bars that prickle through your jacket. "Well since today was a half day so in around five to seven hours, why though?" You asks as the you push the gate open walking in and Justin is right on your heals.

"Well I have till the normal time we get home and since your parents aren't home how about we leave our things here and head to the pier." He suggests as you knock on the door and wait till one of the maids opens it. It was a good idea and it's not like Tom or Sarah would mind since ideally you should be at school. "Yeah let's do it."

---------

'Y/N, whenever you are ready, brush down your dress and adjust your shoe strap,' the commander's voice echoed through the earpiece. You and the whole dagger crew were currently on a night long undercover mission. For the big mission, you need an intel, someone who could lead you in, someone who could be the distraction in the operation for you to get through.

You make your way to the top of the stairs and slowly drag your feet along the red silky carpet. You make your way to a dim lighted corner and bend over to adjust your shoe and then smoothen out your dress. That's the signal for Jake, Bradley and Natasha to meet you upstairs in room 13. The four of you would make your way to the door but sadly the bodyguards there will have to let you pass. They're big and stubborn, not the kind of people you like to mess with but you need an intel and a cover-up so that's the only true reason for the group being here.

The three make their way up the stairs and meet you at the top. You all shared a light look of approval and you make your way to the guarded door, for your grand finale. Every time you have the cocky, slick, daring and mischievous kind of women act and each time it works but this time around it has to be so good that they let you pass, so good that they believe you. You walk up to the door and where about to open it like a normal room but they quickly block you and ask. "Who are you ma'am?" Now time for the act, your precious little act.

"First of all, how dare you be thick enough in the head to not know and on the other hand, try and grab my wrist again and my people behind me will blow your dick off in milliseconds," no hesitation came with that. You stood your ground and were not going to give in even though the man's, big bod and look that he gave you made you kind of want to cave in and hide but you couldn't. He looked you up and down and asked you one more question.

"Ma'am, why are you here?" This time more sternly, like a demand, that if you didn't answer it would be the end of you. Like the wrong answer would lead to a death sentence. And you don't even react, not on the outside at least. You just scoff. It leaves the three others behind you in quite a shock. Normal people would run away if they were in this situation but you just didn't care and stood your ground. "I'm here for a 'angels whiskey'." He looks at you one more time and opens the door. So easy to convince a man to your way of thinking if he doesn't know the consequences.

All four of you enter and the for closes behind you. There is two more bodyguards in the room bot on either side of the door, the only entrance and exit in the room. You were cornered but it was all part of the plan. You had to get out but just had to wait until it unfolded and you gain their trust. "Well, well , well, who have I got here."

And that's the man you needed. His tall, slim but muscular body leaned back in the black leather chair with his hand wrapped around a glass of whiskey. He had black hair and a rather distinguished set of cheekbones and nose. He had very dark brown eyes that would be slightly covered with his long hair if it wasn't for the jell slick back. His muscles lightly flexed through the white button up shirt with the top three buttons undone and the black, open widely suit jacket.

"What a beautiful scene I have standing right in front of me," he smirks in his chair, getting up slowly as he places the glass down. He walks over to his cabinet that has a dagger on top of it. He picks up the cool, metal carved blade and twirls it through his fingers. "Well my beauty never fails," you smirk back as you watch a black lose strand of his hair fall out of the back of his slick.

"And your beauty is simply a disguise of a devil and since you brought…protection, that means you brought me a problem," he says tilting the blade in your direction, swiping it through his fingers and looks for your response. "I'm not here as 'trouble', Tá mé anseo le haghaidh roinnt fuisce aingeal mo sean chompánach." (I'm here for some angel whiskey my old companion.)

He looks you up and down and then inspects Jake, Natasha and Bradley, each one by one, his gaze seconds later lays upon his guards as he orders. "Leave us and don't dare to listen, you well know what happened to Maxance when he couldn't keep information to himself."

"Is bagairt mhór é teacht anseo le daoine eile (It's a big threat to come here with other people), cobra." He had a point it is a threat and unsafe but they were part of the mission force and you trusted the daggers a lot. "Tá muinín agam astu.(I trust them)" You did trust every one of them, and they've never failed you in any kind of way. The daggers have come close to you over the weeks, but all that matters is if Justin will reveal information in front of them.

"Cibé rud a deir tú (Whatever you say), Cobra." The smirk never lost his face as he heard the lock on the bike and finally sighs like if someone had loosened a woman's corset in the past history. He looks at you and smiles. The smile of a life long companion is flashed and you smile back. "Venom, long time no see," you say, no act in your voice, just your pure, true self with no lie or no cover.

"Well Cobra, you did leave for the France, not show a sign of life and only pop back when you were in trouble, so it's hard to keep in touch with you," sarcasm filled the room after the words left Venom's mouth. It was a heavy silence while the eye contact between you and Justin never breaks and you've had enough of it all. "And again I need you."

"Cobra, I told you I'm not doing you anymore favours." It was right, he wasn't gonna anymore. Many times you've pushed him over the edge so expecting his forgiveness is impossible. "It's not a favour for me. It's for the mission force." Justin and you have known each other for many years now, his dad works, not in favour of the mission force. He just doesn't like the agency since they interfere with his business and somehow Justin for many years now has hidden his mission force identity from his father for many years.

"Y/-" "I know but please. Déan é don fhoireann agus ní mise le do thoil (Do it for the team and not me please)." The use of Irish in your conversation was a way the two of you have communicated for a very long time. A lot of people would wonder, why Irish? Why does that barely use language over another? But it all made sense, if you know the backstory. Justin's father drank a bit, alcohol's from all over the world especially, whiskey. The most common, ' the pure Irish whiskey'. Justin didn't have a good home but the smell and aroma from the alcoholic drinks were so familiar to him he could identify how it was brewed or kept. And ever since then Irish was the two of yours code.

"Okay what do you need?" He was agreeing but didn't know what. Even though he didn't say he had agreed, allowing you to continue was his kind of way of saying it. You look back at Jake and the rest and Jake gives you a reassuring nod. "I need an intel about so I can go and finish him for good."

"Now cobra, that's a big ask," he wanders to his whiskey cabinet. It's filled with many size bottles, many shades. Each a different flavor, a different story to tell. He takes out a small bottle and a glass. It's one of those tiny bottles that you can get in a hotel or airport, the ones that go down in a gulp. He quickly cracks the bottle open and puts the glass back as if it was useless and hands the bottle to you. "Drink." It was like an order that you've yet to follow.

"You know I don't drink," you haven't drank in years and this is not going to change it, you weren't going to mess with something that'll ruin you. "Ah, come on Cobra do it for a friend, you can trust me," he stares you down. He wasn't going to budge unless you drink it but you truly didn't want to but you had to.

You feel the bitter liquid flow down your throat as you let out groan. Whiskey always disgusted you, it just wasn't your style but this one was different. Such a salty, sweet sensation on your tongue as the remains swirled in your mouth.

"You know if I do you a favor, there's a big payment in return." It's true. You knew if you made this deal with Justin it would cost you, it was written in your eyes. I mean, this man won't give you any favor if he doesn't receive anything in regards but you had to do what you had to do. "And what do you do called wish for?"

"I wish for my father to be put down in a grave along with my stepmother hung till her death, and perhaps my brother in rehab and therapy from this shitty mess." He wasn't serious about this being the favor you owed him but those three things were his dreams. You knew they were, you've heard his plan millions of times in the past.

"I could do the first two and the third one I'm not so sure about." It was a joke but not really, you could do all those things in minutes if you truly wanted and everyone in the room knew that. "I'll help you to bring down . You'll get your identification papers tomorrow. Bring the blonde, green eyed, he'll go undercover with you but our deal papers will arrive once you're back…"

Current taglist:

@callsign-magnolia

@shanimallina87

@callsign-dexter

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@horseslovers2016

@djs8891

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finkinthisfrew · 9 months

Text

Anything (pt.1)

A Matty Healy Fanfiction

cw: nightmare, boring plot set up (I promise Matty comes in, pls bear w me)

Chapter 1

I woke up shivering. Sweating. Stomach-churning. Sitting up and shaking my head, I grabbed the book from my nightstand and started reading to distract myself before I could register what I had dreamt and let the tears that had welled up in my sleep fall. I knew the pattern well and I wasn't going to let it ruin yet another morning. Thankfully these dreams happened less often than they used to, maybe once or twice a month now, yet somehow they never seemed to upset me any less.

After a few minutes of reading, I picked up my phone- 48 minutes until my alarm was meant to go off.

Well, I guess it could've been worse. I sighed to myself.

Trying to ignore my exhaustion, both emotional and physical, I tore off my sheets and hopped out of bed to start my day.

Shuffling into the bathroom in my oversized sleeping shirt and thick knit socks, I turned the tap on and plugged the sink, letting the water pool. Splashing water on my face I tried to shake off the sleep that still bogged down my mind.

The dreams definitely didn't help much with my terrible sleep schedule, though they weren't always the cause of it. I'd always struggled with sleep, ever since I was a child. I was always an anxious kid growing up which led to countless restless nights. I'd gotten better as I'd grown older, but my recurring nightmare set me back into my old habit of staying up too late and waking up too early. Unfortunately, it's something I've grown accustomed to.

As I looked up at myself in the mirror, I saw two green eyes with dark circles under them staring back at me. My dark brown curly shag haircut was messy from the tossing and turning in my bed, the ends dripping wet from the water I'd splashed on my face.

Suddenly I wasn't there anymore, my vision was replaced with a flashback to my dream, black eyes staring back at me.

Gone as quickly as it appeared, I once again stared back into my own green eyes, now filled with panic. I dove back into the basin to splash more water on my face.

I took a deep breath and turned back into my bedroom. Determined to not let my recurring nightmare dictate the rest of my day, I decided I would treat myself. Today I would put on my favourite clothes, do up my hair and makeup and take myself to my new favourite coffee shop.

I opened up the door to the beautiful handpainted wardrobe I'd just bought last week and began to sift through all the hanging fabrics. Picking out my favourite jeans and a long sleeve shirt, I closed the door to my wardrobe and stepped back to admire my new apartment.

I had just moved to London a month ago for a six-month-long residency at an art gallery. I had been shocked when I was first offered it but jumped on the opportunity immediately. A six-month trip to London with free housing and endless hours to work on my art? It was a dream come true.

The housing that the gallery supplied me with wasn't anything extravagant, but it was definitely charming. My apartment was on the top floor of a three-story walk-up, boasting giant slanting windows that brightened the single-room apartment even on the gloomiest of London days. I had found various charming vintage pieces of furniture and art to spruce up the bland basics I'd originally been supplied with, and it had finally started to feel like a home away from home.

As I glanced one last time into the full-length mirror, I admired my outfit. My vintage light-wash perfectly worn-in Levi's fit me like a glove, and my new beige fitted long-sleeve mock neck looked effortlessly sexy, the semi-sheer knit material showing my black bralette in a casually immodest way. After I put my thin black sunglasses over my now brown smokey eyes and slid on my black vintage cowboy boots, I popped my AirPods in as I locked my apartment door.

Singing along to the opening lyric of an upbeat playlist, I started to get excited about my little trip to the coffee shop. I had just discovered it last week, finding out that they sold what I believed to be the best cookies I'd ever had in my life. Noticing the sun peaking through spotty clouds, I quickened my step down the stairs into the tube as I decided I'd take my coffee and cookie to a park to finish my book and maybe draw up some new ideas for pieces to make.

Twenty minutes later I found myself saying "I'll have three cookies please" to the friendly barista, trying and failing to not blush at the fact that I knew that the extra two cookies I was buying for later wouldn't even make it home.

Excited that they hadn't run out of cookies yet, I stood at the counter, humming and letting my toes tap along to the music in my ears while I waited for my iced latte. Considering how my day had started, I was positively chipper.

I had already begun to daydream about some new pieces I wanted to sketch out as I stepped out the door of the coffee shop. I was about to turn to walk towards the park when suddenly something slammed into me and I lost my footing, falling straight to the ground.

Disoriented, I gasped for breath as the air had been knocked out of me. Looking around to see what had hit me, I was met with a pair of chocolate-coloured eyes.

"Oh fuck! I am so sorry! Are you okay, darlin'?" the eyes asked me earnestly.

I opened my mouth to answer yes before I noticed the searing pain that engulfed my entire chest.

I winced, and then, I blacked out.

#matty healy #matty the 1975 #at their very best #trumanblack #the 1975 #fanfic #fanfiction #tenderness #tender #lovers #romantic #meet cute #boyfriend #bfiafl

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mayajadewrites · 6 months

Text

Stained Red - Chapter Six

A few days later

You and Matt made a home in your bed, your blankets cascading over both your bodies.

Your faces were only inches from each other, the thought of kissing him was constant.

"Tell me about your dreams, Matthew." You push one of your curls behind your ear, pressing your lips against his gently.

"My dream is laying next to me right now."

"Can you not." You giggle, rolling your eyes. "I'm being serious."

"I dream of Foggy and I being successful lawyers." Matt started, "I would love a family one day. A wife, kids, the whole 9." Matt laid on his back, his gaze to the ceiling. "What about you?"

"I want to continue to write." You smile, tapping your fingers on his bicep. "I would want to have a few successful novels, a beautiful home, and a family." You looked at Matt with the last word.

"How many kids?" Matt tilted his head.

"I think 3 is a good number."

"So it's settled. We'll have 3." Matt smirked, pulling your body next to his.

As your trail your fingertips on his arm underneath his hoodie, you feel cuts. You raised an eyebrow, pushing his sleeve up.

"Why do you look beat up?" You sat up, furrowing your eyebrows.

For the last few days, you've noticed some... red flags, with Matt.

He would never sleepover. If he came over after work, he would stay until 8-9 and then he would say he had paperwork to do.

But the next day, there were always new bruises plastered on his skin.

You know better than to spew accusations without any proof to back it up. You've learned from your past relationships that you can be wrong a lot.

"I walked into a table at the office." Matt looked away from you, hoping you wouldn't ask any more questions.

"You must think I'm stupid." You sit up quickly before getting up from your bed. "I know we're not official or technically together, but I worry about you. Also, you never sleep over, we haven't had sex yet, I-"

"What are you getting at?" Matt's tone shifted, sitting up on the bed. "If you think I'm seeing other women, I'm-"

"No. I don't think other women are preoccupying your time. But something is." You wave your hand, leaning against the doorframe. "Until you want to tell me, I think you should leave."

Matt didn't protest. He simply got up, slid his shoes on his feet, and headed for the door.

He turned to you and kissed your lips gently, caressing your cheek.

No words were spoken.

He just, left.

And you were left alone.

The Vigilante

Matthew Murdock is a man of few words. He mostly uses his fists.

Lately he's been forgetting to aid his cuts and bruises after a night of crime fighting, but its only because he wants to see you as soon as he can.

There has been robberies and assaults popping up around New York, so he's been busy being the vigilante. He wanted to make the city safe for you.

Matt has thought about what/when he's going to tell you about his night-job, even asking Foggy and Karen for help.

Obviously, they were no help.

Should Matt just come out and say it? Should he show up at your apartment in his black suit and say "Surprise, I'm the neighborhood vigilante!" ?

No. You are smarter than that.

One thing Matt knew you valued? Trust.

Right now, you didn't trust him.

Sometimes Matt would go on the rooftop of your building after he left, and he would hear your soft cries. You always turned on music when you were sad, and this ached Matt.

He was causing you pain, when he only wanted to cause you pleasure.

Matt is no stranger to sex, but he wanted his first time with you to be special. Roses, candles, all that. You deserved it. He knows it will be worth the wait, especially after getting a taste of you.

After Matt left your place, he started his endeavor to the law office. It was a gloomy, rainy day in New York. The air was cold and the rain hit his skin like hail.

He knew you were sitting at your window, watching him walk away from your place. But, you didn't know that he could sense that.

Against his needs, and yours, Matt walked away. You watched him until he was out of sight.

Your face started to look like the rain sliding down your window.

Matt winced as he heard you sniffle, fighting his urge to go back to your place, tell you everything, kiss you, and make love to you.

Shorter chapter today!! Needed some sadness/angst. Let me know what you think!

#charlie cox x reader #daredevil #daredevil x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #marvel #foggy nelson #daredevil born again #karen page #the defenders #charlie cox

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sesamestreep · 21 days

Note

Crozier/Fitzjames, fake amnesia

from this list of reverse tropes for fic writers. i told @firstelevens I wasn’t sure I had it in me to write fic for these two and then I went and washed my hair and while I did that, this idea popped into my head fully formed and I was bound by honor to write it down. Also it’s the first thing my brain has wanted to write in like two months, so I took that as a good sign?? Anyway, here’s…something. Kind of a Parks and Rec AU?? but also not in any serious way? It’s like…what if these dudes from The Terror worked in local government or whatever… don’t worry about logistics, I mostly wanted to write Blanky and Crozier being best friends and also talk about sobriety feelings a bunch. AND THEN I DID. only fits the prompt if you squint super hard but, regardless, please enjoy… on ao3 because why not

“So, you feel ready to go back to work tomorrow?”

Francis removes his gaze with considerable effort from the perfect red orb that is the sun sinking steadily under the horizon line across the lake and shifts it reluctantly back to Tom, who’s sitting back in his chair with his booted foot propped up on a milk crate that he got from God knows where. The sight of the boot that encases the lower half of his left leg does push a wave of guilty bile up the back of his throat but he’s already been told that if he apologizes for causing Tom to have need of it one more time, he’ll be drowned in the aforementioned lake, so he resists. Tom knows Francis is sorry about what happened and he’s chosen to forgive him, even if Francis still thinks it’s a stupid choice, second only to him befriending Francis in the first place all those years ago. Francis doesn’t know where he himself would have ended up if that hadn’t happened, though, so it all comes out in the wash he supposes.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Francis says, tracing a hairline fracture in his coffee mug with his thumbnail just for something to do. “If I take any more time off, I’ll just never go back, so it’s now or never, really.”

“Attaboy,” Tom says before taking a long, thoughtful drink from his own mug. Out of solidarity, or maybe sensitivity, he hadn’t had anything to drink tonight either, despite Francis’s assurances that it wouldn’t bother him and might even be a good idea, just for him to get used to it. It’s not like he could reasonably expect to go the rest of his life without ever seeing alcohol again. He’d seen four different ads for light beer alone this afternoon while watching reruns of ‘Bones’ on the couch and imagining every possible way his first day back in the office after rehab could go wrong and that hadn’t sent him into a tailspin, so he’d probably survive watching his best friend drink in his presence. Still, Tom had chosen to just drink decaf coffee with him after dinner like the ancient relics they are, because he is, without a doubt, the best person Francis has ever known. “You talk to anybody about it? I mean, besides me…”

“What, you mean like a therapist? Of course. I’ve got, what, six of them now, for Christ’s sake!”

“No, I mean, from the office. Have you talked to anyone about coming back?”

“Well, John, obviously.”

“I suppose you’d have to, yeah,” Tom says, running a ponderous hand over his chin. “Anything interesting from that quarter?”

“Just about what you’d expect,” Francis says, trying to be generous. John had been kind enough to let him keep his job, after all, despite how bad things got in the end, but Francis’s issues with the man remain, even with his newfound sobriety. Francis had sent him a long, downright obsequious email apologizing for the damage he’d done with his drunken theatrics both over the years and in the very recent past and explained in detail all the ways he was going to do better in the future, while expressing gratitude for the unprecedented amount of grace everyone, but particularly John, had shown him during this stressful time. It was, in no uncertain terms, the most embarrassing thing Francis has ever had to do, and he has, in his life, proposed to the same woman three separate times with absolutely no success, so it’s not like he’s lacking in options for that top spot.

John is, thankfully, the sort of man who likes to breeze past unpleasantness wherever he can and is also, more importantly, a deeply entrenched bureaucrat who’d just as soon do no work as do even a little work and therefore could not be bothered to hire a replacement for Francis. In fact, if he had to guess, John was probably clever enough to frame it as some sort of protection against a discrimination lawsuit somewhere down the line, despite the fact that several things Francis did at the staff Christmas party right before hitting rock bottom were definitely fireable offenses. John’s unflappable dedication to the status quo has worked in Francis’s favor for once, and while he certainly doesn’t deserve the break, he’s going to take it where he can get it on the off chance it never happens again.

“And the staff? Your team, I mean.”

“I got coffee with a few of them individually, just to clear the air and apologize, so that if anyone wanted to take a swing at me, they could do it outside of work,” Francis says, scuffing his shoe against the porch.

“Well, that’s considerate of you. Any of them try it?”

“No. The cowards,” Francis scoffs, which makes Tom laugh. “Jopson and Edward both seemed like they might be sick at the prospect of anyone in charge actually deigning to apologize to them, which was…humbling, to say the least. Then I got an extremely nervous monologue from Harry about the history and relative efficacy of Alcoholics Anonymous, which I think was his way of saying we’re square. And Silna told me if I tried to meet up with her outside of work hours again, she’d block my number and quit without notice, so...”

“She’s got the right of it,” Tom says, with a crooked grin.

“Yeah, that was my favorite of the lot,” Francis replies. “We’ll have a team meeting tomorrow and we’ll get someone in from HR so everyone can talk about feelings, God help us, but I think it might be okay. Which I could not have predicted when all this started, but here we are.”

“I could have,” Tom says. “You’ve made plenty of mistakes, I grant you, but you’ve also done right by these people in a lot of ways. They’re not going to forget that in a hurry. They’re a loyal bunch.”

Francis nods, looking out over the water again. The pinks and golds of the sunset a few moments ago have already faded into purples and blues as night creeps in. The nocturnal chorus of frogs croaking and insects trilling is rising in the nearby woods. He’s already said his piece about how absurd it is that they’re sitting comfortably outside on the porch after dinner—with jackets on and a fire going, sure, but still—and it’s only the beginning of March. Tom doesn’t need to hear any more ranting about global warming right now; it’s no fair repayment of his generosity. What Francis really should do is head for home soon and let his friend have some peace and quiet. He could use some of that himself, but he somehow doubts that he’ll get much rest once he’s home for the evening. At least he can panic about tomorrow properly there, though, by himself.

“Speaking of throwing punches,” Tom says, carefully, after they’ve been quiet a moment, “have you spoken to James at all?”

Francis winces with what feels like his entire body. “I haven’t had the chance,” he says, as lightly as he can manage.

It isn’t precisely true. If he found the time to contact everyone else who’d been affected by his spectacular fall from grace during his leave of absence, he could have found the time to reach out to James too, but he hadn’t. The apology he owes James Fitzjames is too big for an email, which he’d, in a truly cowardly fashion, gotten away with for almost everyone else, and the presumption and humiliation of asking for any of his free time as he’d done with some of his subordinates was a bridge too far. Besides, if they’d met up at a coffee shop to talk things out, Francis has no doubt James would have ordered his drink with oat milk or stevia instead of sugar or mentioned a cleanse he was on and Francis would have rolled his eyes and said something awful and then he probably would have had to go to rehab all over again, which would have defeated the point. Francis has been told by outside observers—professionals in the field, for what it’s worth—that he’s making progress, but he’s even more sure that he’s still, at his core, a miserable old bastard. He’s just less miserable than he was before, by a small margin. Unfortunately, he’s not any less old, though. In fact, he’s older, but that’s beside the point.

“You’ll have to face him sooner or later,” Tom says, not quite gently but not as bullying as he could be either.

“I know,” Francis says, covering his face with his hands. “I’ll do it tomorrow. I mean, if anyone’s entitled to an in-person apology, it’s James, surely.”

“After you punched him in front of everyone at the Christmas party and verbally berated him? Yeah, I think something more than a text message might be in order.”

“You accepted an apology text,” Francis says, scowling into his mug. “And I broke your leg. You needed surgery and everything. I don’t even think I broke James’s nose.”

“Only because your aim sucks when you’re wasted,” Tom replies, unbothered. “Gave him quite the shiner, though, if you want to compare wounds.”

Francis sighs. “I already said I’d talk to him. You have my word.”

“What am I? Your bloody father?”

“No, and I like you a great deal better for it.”

“Good, then what do I need your word for?”

“I was just trying to convey my sincerity.”

“I don’t doubt your sincerity, Francis. Never have. It’s everyone else you need to convince.”

“I don’t know what to say to James,” Francis says, into his hands. “I mean, with you at least, we’ve known each other for ages. We can bounce back from quite a lot, it turns out. James, he’s—I’ve never known how to talk to him in the first place. Now I’ve got to do it sober? I don’t know where to start.”

“How about, ‘James, I’m sorry for trying to knock your lights out with an audience present while I was drunk off my ass on the company dime’ to start?”

Francis closes his eyes and leans back in his chair, letting the shame wash over him like a wave and then, more importantly, letting it recede like waves do. He sighs loudly and shakes his head.

“You know, I’ve always regretted I wasn’t the sort of drunk who forgets what he does when he’s wasted. Feels like it might be easier, ultimately. Like, I could say, ‘oh, sorry for whatever I might have done to you, James. The trouble is I don’t remember any of it, but I’m sure it’s nothing I would have done sober, all the same.’”

“Feigning amnesia?” Tom barks, laughing and looking at him sideways. “What’s that? The thirteenth step?”

“Leave me alone,” Francis replies, waving him off but laughing himself despite his best efforts. “I’ve done a lot of owning up to things lately. Can’t I keep one petty grievance for myself?”

“You could probably get away with it, if you’d left it as a petty grievance rather than escalating to violence. And your resistance to dealing with James should tell you making amends there is your highest priority. Discomfort is a good thing here, a signal you’re heading in the right direction. If it were all easy, everyone would do it, you know.”

“That’s lovely, Tom. Will you be cross-stitching any of these aphorisms onto pillows to remind me to stay the course, or shall I just memorize them for when times get tough?”

“Fuck off, you dusty old prick,” Tom laughs. “Hey, what about this? ‘James, I’m ever so sorry for getting plastered and calling you out in front of everyone and then attempting to rearrange your pretty face with my fist! I do think some of the blame lies in you being so pretty and in me having some unresolved issues around my masculinity and my self-esteem, all of which you can blame on my waste of a father figure growing up, but in this case, I suppose I have to shoulder some of the responsibility for my actions myself. Forgive me?’”

“There’s no one else on earth who could get away with saying even half those things to me, you know,” Francis says, even as his blood doesn’t boil or even heat in the slightest hearing them. It rushes to his face instead, no doubt resulting in a fierce blush that the gathering darkness mercifully hides from view.

“I earned it the hard way, my friend,” Tom says, patting his boot.

“That you did,” Francis says, and rises from his seat. “I’d better be going, then. Much to do, after all: apologies to draft, laundry to fold, worst case scenarios to spin out.”

Tom gets up with effort, clunky and inelegant in his boot, but not so proud as to decline Francis’s hand when it’s offered. “I wasn’t trying to scare you off,” he says once he’s vertical.

“You didn’t. It’s like I said, I’ve a lot to do before the big day.”

Tom nods and, after a moment of deliberation, puts a hand on Francis’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, you know.”

“I’m not sure about that,” Francis replies, shifting away from the praise. “More of a bad man trying to be better.”

Tom gives him a long look at that and then shakes his head, smiling. “All that work on yourself and you still don’t get it,” he says, not unkindly. “What else do you think a good man is?”

Francis doesn’t know, but he spends the whole ride home and the rest of the night thinking about it all the same.

Francis’s plan of attack, such as it even exists, takes form more easily than he could have predicted. Once he starts thinking about how best to approach James at work and make amends on that front, he finds he knows a lot more about the man than he originally thought. A few years working together, however contentiously, has been enough to pick up on each other’s habits and quirks well enough that Francis can reasonably predict when he’ll be able to get a moment of James’s time without anyone else around. The fact that he can do this and yet never thought to do it before under any other circumstances is the cause of another wave of shame that passes less quickly than Francis would like.

Francis arrives at the City Planner’s office just before 8:30 in the morning with the certainty that he won’t run into John—the man has many flaws but his dedication to never showing up to work any earlier than he absolutely needs to is not one of them, in Francis’s opinion—but that he will, in all likelihood, find James already there and more than likely already working. He also arrives with the materials for a bribe, should that prove necessary.

He’s so worked up, going through everything he’s planning to say one last time in his mind before he actually sees James, that he doesn’t think to knock on the outer door, which is sitting half-open anyway, and just barges in instead. It’s not a great start, he realizes a second after it’s too late to do anything else, and it’s made even worse by the fact that James is there, as expected, and he’s only partially in his shirt, which is not so expected. Francis stops and gapes for a moment with all the grace of someone who’s been tased.

“God, sorry,” he says, and tries to step back, only to collide with the door jamb. “I should’ve—”

“Francis, it’s—good morning, I—this isn’t—I’m the—I’m sorry,” James says, managing to sound crisp and self-possessed even when he’s stammering his way through an apology. “I don’t normally…do this…in the office, I mean.”

“No, of course not,” Francis says, behaving like a teenager in a romantic comedy for some reason and averting his eyes, even though there’s nothing to see. James was in the process of buttoning his shirt when he came in, so it’s really the sight of his clavicle that’s made Francis so uncomfortable. Was he always this much of a ninny? Is that why he started drinking, to cover it up? It’s the only explanation that makes any sense now.

“I went for a run this morning and I neglected to pack a shirt with my work clothes, so I had to use the spare I keep in my desk for emergencies.”

The old Francis (of several weeks and easily a thousand group sessions ago) would have rolled his eyes at any number of things in that small explanation: running to work, keeping a spare shirt in one’s desk, referring to anything related to fashion as an ‘emergency’ and meaning it. Now, he nods thoughtfully and tries to think of it all as part and parcel of what he respects and admires about James: his dedication and planning, his ability to anticipate and address future challenges. The fact that he looks nice in blue. Whatever. It turns out it’s easier to do than he imagined it would be.

“I don’t think you have a habit of undressing in the office for fun, James,” Francis says, instead of any of those nice things. “Don’t worry.”

“Right,” James says, lightly, even as his shoulders remain tense. He does up the last few buttons and his clavicle disappears under the taut poplin fabric of his dress shirt. “Well, what can I do for you, Francis?”

Francis has heard—and, in turn, mocked—James on any number of occasions start conversations with a smooth, ‘to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?’, which is not an expression Francis himself has been treated to in a long time and for good reason. He doesn’t know why he thinks of it now, except that he’d take even a sarcastic reference to the pleasure of his company (of which there is none and never has been for James in particular, he thinks) over the idea that James should do anything for him, at this point.

“You’re training, then?” Francis asks, skirting gracelessly around the question James actually posed. “For another one of the what-do-ya-call-em’s? Not a marathon. The thing you did last year…?”

“The Ironman,” James suggests, looking slightly pained. “It’s a triathlon.”

“Yeah, that sounds right. Another one of those?”

“God, no,” James replies, nose wrinkling slightly before he seems to catch himself doing it and intentionally blanks his expression. “I’m not likely to do another one of those. I already have my bragging rights, after all. Today’s run was just for health.”

“Oh, sure,” Francis says, tapping a fingertip nervously against the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. “I’m meant to be doing that now.”

“Running?” James asks, betraying some surprise, which is fair enough.

“Exercising. For my health. To keep me…”

“Fit?”

“Well, distracted,” Francis replies, with a shrug. “There seems to be some thought of it helping to keep me away from drink, though I’m not sure what the logic is there. But I’m meant to be thinking of something I’d enjoy, anyway.”

“Not running, then,” James says, brow crinkling like he’s giving the matter serious thought. James is a fixer by nature—and by profession, of course, being paid mostly to follow John around and make sure the grand promises that flow from his mouth actually happen somehow. He thrives with a problem to solve. If Francis were even marginally less stupid and less proud, he might have thought to come to James sooner. He’s nothing if not several very large problems wrapped in a trench coat. Or a wind breaker, in actuality. The point is, Francis could use all the fixing he can get his hands on.

“Not likely. Never enjoyed it, really. Hard on the ankles, I’ve found.”

“Yes, it can be quite stressful on the joints. You’ve got to take all sorts of precautions,” James says, in the tone he gets when he’s working his way up to a long treatise of some kind, but he stops abruptly and his face betrays that he’s seemingly caught himself. He clears his throat. “So, it’s not for everyone. I understand.”

“Yes, well, my sponsor was saying that I might try tennis or racquetball, but then I’d have to find a regular partner or group, and I’m not sure I have it in me.”

“There’s a club nearby, actually, and they could help you arrange—” James pauses and shakes his head, once again stopping himself from expounding on the different options available the way he normally would. It’s an uncharacteristic amount of restraint coming from James, who loves recommending things to other people almost as much as he loves the sound of his own voice. Francis sees some of his own handiwork in this new display of shame and feels the need to make amends even more keenly than before because of it. “Well, you can Google it, I imagine, and it would be faster than listening to me. It is, uh—it’s in Eagleton, however, so I suppose that won’t do.”

“No,” Francis replies, frowning. “Thanks all the same, though. I imagine I’ll end up doing water aerobics with the rest of the senior citizens at the community center and call it a day.”

“You’re not a—you’re barely fifty, Francis!”

“I’m fifty-two, actually.”

“Oh, well, in that case, I hope you have your affairs in order,” James gripes, as he messes with something entirely unnecessarily on his desk. Francis smiles at the strange comfort of annoying him, which should not be reassuring to him at all but he’s a messed up sort of fellow even on his best days. The smile grows when James clears his throat again and adds, like he can’t quite stop himself, “Swimming’s rather good for the joints, actually.”

“Swimming?” Francis asks.

“Yes, swimming. As in, laps…in a pool. Something else the community center offers, if you were interested. It’s solitary—meditative, even—and good exercise. In—that is, in case you were wondering.”

“If this is you trying to talk me into a triathlon, James—”

James sniffs, more performatively haughty than genuinely haughty, Francis suspects. “I’d never,” he says. “I was merely recommending an activity that you might enjoy more than water aerobics, and that might spare the elderly of our community from dealing your obvious personality disorder early in the morning, when those classes tend to be held.”

Francis, much to James’s surprise from the look on his face, laughs at that. “I’ll take that under advisement,” he says, while James continues to regard him like he’s wild animal exhibiting signs of rabies who’s suddenly appeared in his path, which is maybe a common occurrence in town, depending on who you ask. “Thank you.”

James nods, distracted. “Sure.”

“Well, I—I…listen, I didn’t come here to talk about exercise regimes, which I figure you could have guessed,” Francis says, in a rush, because anything less than a headlong dive into the subject they need to discuss will hurt much worse than just getting it over with, he suspects. “And I don’t want to presume anything about your life, but I also figure there’s a non-zero chance that you’re already familiar with the famous 12 step program, maybe just through cultural osmosis, and I don’t want to over explain any of it to you, but, well, there’s a pretty important part about identifying people you’ve wronged through your addiction and the resulting behavior and making direct amends to said try people and—”

“I’m familiar,” James interrupts, softly. “Not directly, of course, or, um, anything like that—I don’t want to detract—but—”

Francis waves him off. “No need to explain. I just—well, obviously, that list of people, for me, had to include you, because of what transpired between us at the end of last year and how I behaved. The things I said to you, then—how I’ve always spoken to you, really—and of course, I—God, I’m so sorry. It feels absurd to say out loud but I’m sorry for lashing out at you and hitting you, I should never have—”

“It’s fine, Francis,” James says, starchily. He’s got a nervous hand pressed to his ribcage, so intently that it’s almost shocking to look and see no actual knife sticking out from there, somehow. With that, it’s hard to believe the breeziness of his words. “Really, this isn’t necessary.”

“And I’m telling you it is,” Francis explains, as carefully as he can manage. “Maybe it isn’t for you, I don’t know, but it’s necessary for me. Do you—can you understand that?”

“Yes, I’m sorry,” James says, after a deep breath. “Of course. Is there…more?”

“You tell me. Is there any other ways my drinking harmed you that I haven’t thought of?”

“No, I wasn’t—”

Francis holds up a hand to stop him. “That probably read as very sarcastic, given our…history, let’s say, but it was a genuine question. I think I’ve raked myself over the coals for every possible slight I can imagine but if there’s anything I did that I can address for you now, I’d have you tell me.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” James replies, shakily. “I only meant, I don’t really know what goes into all this. Is amends just an apology or is there more to it? I don’t need there to be, I was just curious. That’s all.”

“Well, you’re meant to endeavor to show you’ve changed your ways, I suppose. To indicate that you won’t be perpetuating the same harm in the future. Which, in this case, is tough, because…well, I mean, all I can give you is my word I won’t try to knock you out at work ever again.”

“Outside of work hours, however…” James muses, with a small, mirthless smile.

Francis winces, but otherwise doesn’t react. “I’ll never behave that way towards you again. On my honor, for whatever that’s worth.”

James folds his arms over his chest and looks down at the carpet, appearing like a sullen youth for a brief moment before he raises his gaze and becomes a grown man once more. Francis remembers when he’d shown up with John that first time, how he’d called James an infant to Tom when they finished their initial meeting with him about the town’s budget crisis all those years ago. Tom had laughed at him, wheezing ‘he’s a decade younger than us, if he’s anything, Francis. He’s our bloody peer now, and if you don’t see it, you’re cracked!’ Francis thought—still thinks—Tom is the one who’s cracked, in this case. James looked young, then; he looks young now, everywhere except the eyes, which contain a stormy sea’s worth of disappointment. Francis can be self-centered with the best of them but he knows he’s not the one who put that feeling there in the first place. He’s not that important. For the first time, however, he feels protective of the man in front of him because of it and takes it as his very solemn duty to never be the cause of his disappointment again, so long as it can be helped. All that and it’s not even 9 in the morning yet.

“It’s worth plenty,” James says, eventually, clearly just as uncomfortable with this much emotion so early in the day as Francis is and eager to be done with it. “Thank you, Francis.”

“Yes, well, I won’t take up any more of your time, I’ve been nuisance enough for one morning, but if there’s ever anything you want to discuss or clear up between us, my door’s always open. To you, that is. Well, to anyone, but just in case your particular welcome was unclear, I mean, you should—”

James sweeps a hand out wide in a graceful gesture like he’s literally clearing the air. “Understood,” he says, sincerely, “and appreciated.”

“Great,” Francis says, too cheerily and then winces again. “I mean, uh—right, I’ll just be going then.”

As he pivots back towards the door, the sloshing noise of the ice shifting in one of the cups he’d forgotten he was holding draws his attention. Christ, right. The whole point was—Francis really is starting to lose his mind. He contemplates just leaving anyway, like nothing’s amiss, but he’ll have to explain the two drinks to his team, absolutely none of whom will buy that the iced chai is for him. He’s gone on too many rants about how coffee shouldn’t be iced and tea only on certain occasions. He’s the type to drink hot, black coffee even on the most brutal summer days, though his sponsor did warn him that a lot of alcoholics do turn to sweets as a coping mechanism for replacing alcohol in their daily lives and not to be surprised if he found himself needing additional sweetener in his morning coffee as a result. Francis hadn’t credited it at the time, but he had found himself momentarily tempted at the coffee shop this morning by a sign advertising something called a ‘death by chocolate latte’ as the daily special before he’d gotten a hold of himself, so maybe there’s some truth to it. The point is, dragging this extra drink back to his office will be more humiliating than turning around and giving it to James like he originally planned, no matter how awkward it feels right now.

“Okay,” he says, turning back, “I promise this is the last thing and then I will let you get back to work. There’s, uh—it’s not a bribe, mind you, just an extension of the apology for what happened and for the fact that you’ll have to continue working with me for the foreseeable future and—you don’t have to forgive me, you don’t owe me that, I just thought—”

James looks at him, utterly perplexed, fingertips gently steepled on the top of the desk like he’d already been going back to whatever he was working on when Francis interrupted again. “What is it?” he asks, somehow still not betraying any annoyance at the interruption, hiding it well under an open tone of curiosity.

“The—this,” Francis finally spits out with considerable effort, holding the cup out towards James, rather than try to explain himself further. “It’s for you.”

“Oh,” James replies, with an expression like Francis is trying to hand him a live gerbil and not an upsettingly overpriced beverage like the ones he’s seen James drink on dozens of occasions. “I, uh—that’s really not necessary.”

“You must take it, James. Please. I said you’re not obligated to forgive me, I’m not trying to sway you, really. It just felt wrong to show up empty handed, after everything.”

“I understand, but, really—”

“You’re not on another one of your cleanses, are you? Giving up sugar or…calories before noon or something?” Francis ventures, imbuing his tone with more patience than he normally would, even though he still feels very little towards this thing in particular.

James is already so annoyingly healthy and brisk and handsome, it does take extraordinary amounts of patience to tolerate his talk of intermittent fasting and green juice with the goal of making himself even more annoyingly perfect. Surely, there’s got to be a limit to that sort of thing, but Francis doesn’t know; he’s on the opposite end of the spectrum it seems, having to re-learn the fundamentals of barely looking after himself in middle age without the aid of alcohol. It’s pretty grim, if he’s being honest. It really is no wonder that James has been so consistently earning the gold medal spot in the competitive sport of getting on Francis’s nerves, with that in mind.

His intentional gentleness does seem to pay off in this case, though, since James smiles at him in only mild embarrassment. “Uh, no, I’m not. I just—you’re not obliged to—”

“I know, but—listen, James, I already committed my penance by having to say the phrase ‘dirty chai’ with a straight face to a college student with a lip piercing at eight in the morning, okay? The damage is done. You might as well enjoy the spoils of my humiliation.”

James’s smile widens at that, looking for all the world like he can’t really stop himself. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but that mental image might be worth more to me than the entirety of your apology.”

“No offense taken,” Francis says, finally succeeding in handing off the cup, slick with condensation by now, into James’s care. “I hope it will sustain you for a while yet.”

“Oh, it shall,” James says, placing the cup gingerly onto his desk.

“Right, well,” Francis replies, “that’s all, then. I’ll see you…later, I suppose.”

James nods. “We have a meeting set for Tuesday—tomorrow. It should be on your calendar. Thomas said he—”

“If Jopson says it’s there, it’s there.”

“Great,” James says, easily. “Until then.”

“Yes. ‘Til tomorrow.”

Mission completed, Francis turns once more towards the door and is only interrupted in leaving by the sound of James clearing his throat behind him. He pauses, and looks over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows in question when he meets James’s eye.

“It’s only—forgive me if this is the wrong thing to say, under the circumstances,” James offers, fidgeting with the edge of the notepad lying open on his desk, “but you do—that is, you look well, Francis.”

Francis doesn’t allow himself the liberty of moving even an inch, not to fiddle with his collar or brush back his hair or otherwise indicate he gives so much as one singular damn about his appearance. “Do I?” he asks, tone purposely vague, like James has just told him the weather forecast and it’s only interesting to him in theory, really.

“Yes, very well,” James says, putting his hand flat on the desk very deliberately, like it was giving him away before. At what, who knows, but he’s got it under control now. “This change, it suits you.”

“Well, thank you, I guess.”

James now looks at his computer screen, absently. The next words he says might be something he was reading off of there, if they were anything else. “You look good, is what I meant.”

“How—?” Francis pauses, feeling immense pressure to say this right, somehow. “Sorry, but how would that be the wrong thing to say?”

“I wouldn’t want you to think, well—” James interrupts himself by laughing, just a little and rather joylessly. “It’s not that you didn’t look good before.”

“Oh, right,” Francis says, even as those words continue to make no sense to him in that particular order coming from this particular person. “Wait, you’re saying—I did?”

James meets his eye again, finally, but only to give him the most impatient, long-suffering look in human history. “Is it too much to hope that one of the twelve steps involves learning to take a compliment?” he asks, sounding depleted by the effort. “Because it is one of your most exhausting qualities that you can’t do so without endless interrogation first.”

“And it’s got a lot of competition,” Francis replies, feeling himself smile and choosing to do nothing to stop it, “what with all my other exhausting qualities.”

“You’re really only proving my point here, you know.”

“Thank you, James,” Francis says, dutifully. “It’s very kind of you to say. Better?”

“Much,” James sighs. “You’re showing remarkable improvement already.”

Francis leaves him, then, because to stay any longer would just be exposing himself to further ridicule and he’d absolutely deserve it, what with the stupid smile he now can’t seem to get rid of.

#lmao zainab's exact words when we talked about this prompt were 'i'm in my slightly confused but supportive parental energy era'#my madness is being indulged so patiently #anyway this has been stressing me out for a month now just take it away from me!!!#the terror #the terror amc #fitzier #francis crozier #james fitzjames #thomas blanky #writing prompt #reverse fanfic tropes prompts #god i've forgotten how to even tag writing anymore...#firstelevens #homelywenchsociety #that's my writing tag! don't worry about it!#prompt fill #as always when i come up with a silly au for something i'm like 'i don't know how everyone fits in i haven't thought about it at all'#except i am always lying because i always know #most important part of this AU is that tunbaaq is The Pit #and ross is mark brendana-quits #and that's most of what you need to know #please join me in imagining all of the truly absurd parks plotlines i can shove these idiots into #my favorite that i've thought of so far is forcing james and silna into ben and april's plotline of getting stuck in a parking garage #traffic jam together for hours #i just think it would break them you know?? and that's fun #anyway....

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dream-a-little-bigger-x · 10 months

Text

When? | Spencer Reid

Add yourself to my taglist! | Here’s my masterlist!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, mentions of drugs, not proofread

Author's note: This one's based off a song by Belgian pop-singer Pommelien Thijs called "Wanneer" ("When"). Just needed to get it out I guess?

Words: 1.327

Dating someone who lives from case to case, out of suitcases and in and out of hotels wasn’t the easiest I had ever done. Loving someone like Spencer would’ve been so easy if it wasn’t for the career he’d chosen for himself.

For four years, Spencer and I had been doing great. We loved, we laughed, we cried. I bent myself backwards and in impossible bends to adapt to his lifestyle. He molded me until I fit into his life, made me into something I had never been. He molded me softly until I burst and broke.

Every day, I folded like paper. Everyone saw it and still, I stayed with him. I stayed with him while he rotted away slowly between my molars. It was bittersweet to lose him, but he was wrecking me, wrecking my entire life.

The last time I saw Spencer was when he was leaving for yet another case. He knew how I felt about it, he knew it was wrecking me, and yet he didn’t say anything to reassure me that everything was going to be okay, that he was going to return to me. It seemed as though he, himself, had given up on us at that moment.

It seemed like a silent agreement that we wouldn’t be seeing one another when he returned from Los Angeles this time. By the time he returned, the apartment was empty and void of all things that made the place a part of me.

When he left for Los Angeles, I went to stay with a friend of mine, not wanting to be anywhere near Spencer when he returned. I felt terrible for leaving him like this, but there was nothing left to save.

And still, six months after I had left Spencer, I was still looking back at everything we had done and everything that had happened. From the good to the bad. But especially the night we separated played in my mind over and over again.

It made me wonder when I would stop looking back, when I would stop being the sum of him. Spencer’s fingertips molding me to fit into his life had tainted me.

“Hey Sugar,” the familiar voice of Penelope Garcia caused me to snap out of my thoughts. I smiled up at her as she slid into the booth opposite of me. The two of us had decided to go for brunch together on her day off.

Penelope Garcia and Emily Prentiss were the only people from Spencer’s life I dared to see. It might also be the reason why I could never truly let go of him.

Or maybe it was just maybe holding onto the scraps of my relationship with him.

“Hi Pen,” I greeted. “How are you?”

Penelope gave a sympathetic smile with a tilt of her head. “I should ask you.”

“Please, don’t,” I chuckled and Penelope opened her mouth to say something, but I beat her to it. “You know I’m gonna say ‘no’ and I don’t wanna elaborate on it because then I fear I might start crying in this diner.”

The blonde’s lips rolled inwards. “Sorry, Sugar. Lemme tell you about how I’m doing then,” she said and I nodded my head eagerly, wanting to be distracted with anything that could possibly distract me. “All right. So, me and Kevin went on this nice, sweet date and he put all his lovin’ on me. Though we couldn’t quite make it to the bedroom as suddenly someone called. Guess who?”

“Who?!”

“You have to guess, otherwise it’s no fun.”

I sipped the iced coffee I had ordered before Penelope came in. “Uhm, okay, since you are actually quite happy about it, I’m gonna say your sweet prince, Derek Morgan because his calling would mean Kevin got jealous, which would result in some sweet, steamy lovin’ after the phone call.”

“Honestly, how are you not a profiler?” Penelope asked.

I scoffed. “Or I lived with one for too long.”

“Honey,” Penelope pouted.

I shook my head, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill. “No. No, I am not going to cry in the middle of a stupid diner.” I inhaled deeply through my nose. “Okay, what did Derek want?”

“Honey,” Penelope started again, reaching out to grab my hand to squeeze it. “You should talk to him, you know?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “I’m not saying you should get back together with him, but maybe you should clear the air, you know?”

I nodded my head, trying to retain the information my friend is trying to give me. She was probably right. Moving on from Spencer would only be possible if I talked to him and cleared the air.

Later that night, I found myself knocking on the apartment door I once shared with the man I loved, still loved. It didn’t take seconds before Spencer was in front of me, worry swimming in the honey eyes I came to love.

“Hey,” he whispered, opening the door a little more and stepping aside so I could come in. The place still somewhat looked the same, albeit missing some of my own knick-knacks.

“I-I’m sorry to barge in like this, Spence,” I said, voice cracking ever so slightly. “I just… I think we need to talk.”

“Sure. Do you–Do you want some tea maybe?”

I shook my head and accepted his invitation to sit down on the couch. “Spencer, I–”

“Why did you walk out on me?” He immediately cut me off.

My brows furrowed ever so slightly before I shifted in my seat. “Spencer, you know why. I couldn’t–I couldn’t live like this anymore. What, you expected me to just wait for you to come home everyday? It wrecked me to wait for a sign from you that you were still in one piece.”

“Sweetheart, you know that’s my job.”

The pet name sent shivers down my spine. It had been weeks since he’d called me that. “I know it is, but what am I?”

“Everything happens for a reason, y/n.”

“You always say that,” I scoffed. “You’ve stolen so much more than I could ever admit…” I got up from the sofa and rubbed my face in frustration and anger. “You know the most beautiful thing about you were all my best parts? I blame you for so much more than you could ever know, Spencer.”

“What are you even talking about, y/n? What did I ever do to you that was so bad, huh?”

Tears finally rolled off my cheeks as I looked him straight in the eyes. “You never really cared how I was feeling about you leaving every time. I know it’s part of your job, but you getting hurt and you getting hopped up on some drug isn’t. Everything that happened to you, everything that has hurt you, hurt me, too, Spencer. Ever thought about that?”

“That’s what this is about? Y/N,” he scoffed. “I’ve been sober for fifteen months!”

“Yeah, but our love wasn’t.”

Spencer shook his head, sighing deeply. “You might feel like this about it now, but I know you’ll come back to me, y/n. You always have. We’re perfect for each other and you know it.” He got up from his spot on the couch and took two long strides towards me. “I promise you, everything will get better.”

He grabbed my hands and held them tight, forcing me to look me in the eyes. Though his eyes swam with sincerity, she couldn’t bring herself to it to forgive him and fall back in his arms. His promises were made of paper and paper could be so easily burnt. They were burning right there where we were standing. It shredded me into pieces but between the ashes, I could see myself being happy again, being myself again.

Shaking my head at him, I yanked my hands out of his. “Let me go, Spence. I need to find myself, I need to figure out who I can be without you.”

His promises of paper, our written story… I was finally able to fold it up because I was able to continue.

Even as I left his apartment, I wondered…

When?

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#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds

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