#i wanted a return to writing things that felt meaningful to me

[randomfanboi]

Flamin’ Hot

Jacob Black x Male Reader (SMUT)

Summary: After Bella and Edward leave for their honeymoon, Jacob visits you. However his drop by is anything but a friendly conversation. To be fair he catches you masturbating, he believes that his imprint needs a little help.

Author: So this is my first Jacob Black smut! So this fic was heavily inspired by a another fic, but for the love of god i could not find it. So I decided to write this fic, the only difference between this this fic and what it was heavily inspired by is the gender of the reader, so that aspect is different. Props to the original plot of the fic author.

Warnings: Smut, anal sex, 18+ PWP

Font Meaning: thought, Meaningful

“-well you must have a great time Bella, be sure to call me.” You stated, giving her a hug she returned, with a smile. You turned to Edward, a fake smile on your face. “Have a great time as well Edward.” You said extending your hand for him. Your words were kind but your mind thought out violent thoughts if he ever did harm to Bella. He shook your hand with a smile but slightly grimaced when he made eye contact with you, you had to resist rolling your eyes for whatever reason he suddenly grimaced.

Waving goodbye to them, mainly Bella. You left the airport and began to drive back to your house. It’s not like you hated Edward… scratch that you did. How he suddenly left Bella in a state was the main reason. But you shrugged it off, Bella happiness was the most important thing and if that was marrying Edward, so be it.

…

You parked your car in your garage, and stepped up to your porch. Your parents were out of town for a couple of days, they said it was for work but you knew your parents wanted to stay a place were it was just… the two… of them. Shaking your head to get out the disturbing thoughts. You took out one of the cigarette packets from the drawers of the porch table. You flickered your lighter as the cigarette caught a blaze on the first try as you leaned back against the front door.

You closed your eyes enjoying the moment. Smoking always helped you gather your thoughts and relax but it did something else. It made you crave sex. Fuck you thought as you felt and saw the bulge in your trouser. You sighed and started to grope it with your right hand, your left angled down a bit, popping the cigarette out of your mouth as you let out a puff of smoke. You continued touching yourself not caring that were on your outside porch, but you also did not see the figure watching you, Jacob.

When Jacob first met you he was aware that you were a close friend of Bella. A rough guy who would do so much to protect his friends, you always sent Edward nasty looks even though you were unaware of what Edward and him are, you came across as a person who couldn’t give a fuck till your loved ones were hurt, which Jacob thought was badass. However when he made eye-contact with you and no longer felt the pull of gravity of the Earth, he realised you were his imprint. You did talk to him and Jacob savoured every detail about you, he quickly forgot about Bella.

But back to the moment, he came to visit you after hearing Bella go on her honeymoon. He had shifted to a wolf to run through the forest then turn back at the edge of it to put clothes on, well just shorts, and began walking to your house and froze when he saw the clear view of your outside porch and you. Jacob was transfixed by seeing you touch yourself, the way you were leaning your head back against the door exposing your neck, and how you bit your lip, hypnotised Jacob.

He heard your sighs of pleasure as well as the inhale and exhale of your cigarette. He almost groaned loudly as he saw you fish out your cock and start building up a rhythm as your moans and groans slightly increased. Jacobs inner wolf was practically begging him to touch you. Jacob wiped the drool from his mouth before quietly walking up the stairs of your porch, his eyes roaming all of your body as he slightly fondled himself until he was up on your porch.

Lewd images ran through your mind as you cracked an eye open, ahead of you was one of your lewd thoughts. It took you two blinks that it was not your imagination but the real Jacob. You gasped eyes wide with shock as embarrassment settled in but you noticed in your shock, Jacobs eyes were roaming all over your body. Is he-Is- is he checking me out? you thought. Almost two seconds of silence went by till you spoke.

“J-Jacob!? What the fuck are you doing here!? Sorry, l-let me just-.” Before you could put your cock back into your underwear or go through the door so you could escape this embarrassing scenario. Jacob quickly approached you and put his lips on yours. You were stunned, astonished, startled, dumbfounded, flabbergasted, whatever else was in the thesaurus. Jacob then separated the kiss but only till your lips barely grazed each other. You looked up at him, he was looking at you with an intense gaze.

His face seemed to be telling you two things: One was his desire for you, how he basically needed you. You bit your lip at his gaze. His eyes followed the motion, oh how badly he wanted to do it himself. Second was a silent question of your consent. You noticed how much he was holding back to take you there and then, to shove you up your front door and to claim you, how willing he was to do it by your front porch. You gave a slight nod before putting your lips on his again. That was all he needed.

He shoved you up against the front door as he inserted his tongue into your mouth, all within a second. You gasped giving his tongue more room to roam. You honestly tried to fight back with your tongue, wanting to take over the kiss but he was just too good, growling whenever you tried to take control over the kiss. Fuck it you thought, you could be a sub today it was certain that Jacob wanted to be dom. Jacob then gripped your shaft with a warm hand, it felt like the close space of a campfire. Pleasure shot up through your spine as Jacob hand moved along your shaft, your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you moaned into his mouth.

Jacob growled before grabbing your shirt with both hands and ripping it, honestly you couldn’t have given a flying fuck about it. He pressed his chest to yours and his skin felt as if it was on fire, you moaned as his lips were on yours again. Next to be ripped was your trousers and underwear, his flamin’ hot body, figuratively and literally, kept you from feeling the cold of the night. He kissed down your chest, sparks erupting where he traced.

He stopped in front of your cock, he licked the tip and you actually whimpered and keened at the same time. Your hand shot to your mouth, eyes wide, cheeks beginning to redden. Jacob looked up at you raised a brow and smirked, his face all too smug. You were about to say something to him, an excuse for the embarrassing sound you made, but he swallowed the top half of your cock before you could. Your fingers and your toes inside your shoes curled, your teeth gritted, all signs that showed you stopping yourself from cumming early.

But you really had to focus when he started to bop his head up and down your cock. You bit your hand to not moan too loud. How is he so good at this? His mouth felt so warm and good. You kept resisting your orgasm till his mouth and tongue became too much. “Fuck Jacob!” People could have heard that but you couldn’t give a fuck, he was too good. You grabbed the back of Jacob’s head and thrusted your cock into his mouth, a surprised noise came from Jacob as you did this. You then came into his mouth, your entire body almost becoming numb as you let out moans of pleasure.

Jacob swallowed everything before coming back up to kiss you, you moaned as you tasted yourself on his mouth. You placed your hands on his chest, as you continued the kiss, trailing them down till you felt something hard and big poking through his shorts. You chuckled as you turned Jacob into the wall and began trailing down his body, which felt like it was literally burning, with your mouth. Jacob leaned his head back on the door and groaned as you got to his hips. You pulled his shorts and underwear down and nearly jumped when something large almost slapped you. You gasped at Jacob’s size, you looked up at him and saw that smug look on his face, you rolled your eyes, before taking him in your mouth.

Jacob let out a mixture of a groan and a growl, as you bobbed up and down his shaft. You let him out of your mouth with a pop, and began licking the head of his cock, looking up teasingly at him. Jacob growled and grabbed the back of your head and forced you down on him again. “Payback.” Jacob said through gritted teeth. You gagged in shock, before Jacob began thrusting into your mouth. His moans and groans became louder with each thrust till he spilled into your mouth as you swallowed as much as you could.

Jacob then leaned down to kiss you, then turned you against the door with your back facing him. He knelt down and you almost yelped when you felt his hot tongue by your entrance. You moaned at his tongue roaming your entrance, your moans beginning to heighten again. A bit of time passed by and you were getting impatient. Just put it in already! you thought. You turned your head back and made eye contact with him. “What? Do I have to fucking beg?” You said irritated. Jacob chuckled. “That would be nice for another time, but I can’t wait a second longer.” Jacob ended his statement with a smack to your ass.

Jacob gripped your hips with his warm and large hands before sliding his tip in, you moaned again. Jacob ripped of his shorts as he began to push in further. You moaned but slightly chuckled at the fact that you both were wearing nothing but shoes. Jacob began kissing the back of your neck, you turned your head to meet his tongue with your own, the hot make out session distracting you as Jacob thrusted the rest of his length in. You moaned realising now that he was fully sheathed inside of you.

Jacob began a slow rhythm but quickly amped up the speed as your moans encouraged it. You hooked your arm back, pulling Jacob closer to you. If his skin didn’t really feel like it was on fire before it sure was now. It now felt as you were on fire, the heat growing and growing the more quicker Jacob thrusted. Then he hit the spot and you keened loud. Jacob let out a dark chuckle before focusing his thrusts on your prostate. You started moaning shamelessly letting your tongue fall out of your mouth, Jacob swearing he had never seen anything as hot and sexy as your face right now.

Both of your moans echoed around your porch till your orgasms approached. “Oh fuck Y/N!” Jacob moaned out as he pushed deep inside you. “J-Jake!” You moaned out as both of your cocks spilled out their seed. You guys began panting after such a high release and you still felt Jacob’s flamin body’s heat. Jacob pulled out and you turned to kiss him as he laid his forehead against yours.

You started chuckling and so did Jacob. “So… I’m free tomorrow?” Jacob laughed as he scooped up your clothes and his, kissed your forehead and carried you inside the house bridal style.

#jacob black x male reader #jacob black x reader #Jacob black x male reader smut #twilight smut #male reader #smut #jacob black #twilight #gay #male reader smut #twilight x reader #jacob black x you #twilight x male reader #jacob black smut #twilight imagine

[lurkingshan]

Last Twilight Episode 12

A month ago, I never could have predicted that I’d be sitting here trying to assemble some thoughts to explain how on earth this show went so badly off the rails. I am truly taken aback by where this story landed, and I advise anyone who wants to think of it fondly to just pretend it ended at episode 9, and even skip the finale if you haven’t watched yet. Before I get into it, let me just start with a word of praise for the cast, who did a great job with their performances and kept this show afloat when the writing fell apart. And boy, did it fall apart.

In my view, this narrative had three main threads it was addressing: 1) Day’s journey to accepting his disability; 2) unresolved family trauma; and 3) Mhok and Day’s romance. And in the end, it failed on all three of them. I am going to dig into this and I am not feeling particularly nice, so if this is going to hurt your feelings I suggest you stop reading now. 

Day’s Journey

Just…wow. We have been afraid of this turn the entire time and trying to hold out hope that the show would not go there, but here we are. I started laughing out loud when we got to the end of part 3 and Mhon’s phone went off with an alert for a new eye donor, and then just stared incredulously at my screen as we time skipped AGAIN to a Day whose vision had been restored for years (last week I joked to @bengiyo and @waitmyturtles that once a drama starts using time skips it becomes addictive and they never stop, and—welp!). What was this entire show for? Why did we spend twelve episodes with Day grieving his vision loss, learning how to cope, and finally accepting his blindness only to completely undercut it at the end? The first part of the finale was so much about how he was thriving—finding a new career for himself and becoming self-sufficient and growing so much on his own—only to give us an ending that implied he could not actually have his happily ever after without his vision restored. 

And this is in fact the message they sent by coupling the return of his vision with the return of he and Mhok’s relationship, and giving us a happy ending rooted in his contentment at having his sight back. They even went back to the Last Twilight mountain to completely tarnish the thematic resonance of the original scene. Calling back to the beautiful memory of Day “seeing” the sunset and experiencing “a moment so good that you feel like you can live there forever” as he accepted his disability with this scene of him seeing the real sunset with his restored vision was so hurtful to me that I actually got angry. Day didn’t need his vision back to get a happy ending, and I absolutely hate what this communicates about disabled people’s capacity to live happy and fulfilling lives. This show has created many writing sins but this is the most unforgivable to me.

Family Trauma

The show began dropping the ball on this one a few weeks ago, but this finale put the nail in the coffin. We spent most of this episode at Porjai and Night’s wedding, an event that might have felt meaningful if the show had let us see any of their romance. I’m grateful to Mark Pakin and Namtan Tipnaree for their beauty and charisma because it’s the only thing that made me care about those scenes at all. Rather than actually being about them, however, this wedding was used primarily as a clunky vehicle to deliver heavy-handed messages about “second chances” to encourage Day to get back together with Mhok (more on that in the next section). 

I did enjoy the brief nods in this episode to the brothers continuing to have newfound harmony in their relationship, but where the show really lost me was in their attempt to bring Night and Day’s dad back into the mix and imply some sort of resolution between him and Mhon. Mhon, a woman whose perspective on their split we never actually saw, whose motivation for her choices and behavior toward her sons were completely elided by the narrative, who was forgiven and made peace with offscreen during a time skip. I was never given the chance to understand her or what this relationship meant to her in the first place, so why would I care about these scenes with her making her peace with this man? I continue to be so confused about where this show chose to spend its time, and why someone with Aof’s track record on developing strong and narratively important familial relationships dropped the ball so much with her. 

The Romance

Okay, let’s get into it, and remember what I said about not reading if this is going to hurt your feelings! My criteria for considering a romance successful is I have to believe the relationship is mutual, beneficial to both of the pair, and that the couple is prepared to weather future challenges. Last Twilight’s romance fails on all three fronts, and it all comes down to the total imbalance in the relationship that persisted right through the final scenes.

This entire narrative has been Mhok bending to Day’s will, giving Day what he needs, forgiving him for everything, and letting him make all the decisions about the relationship, and the finale was regrettably more of the same. In episode 11, Mhok made a mistake when he lied to Day about turning down the job in Hawaii. But he made that mistake out of grief and fear, and Day didn’t care—he unfeelingly rejected him and his pain and ended their relationship without a second thought. That was potentially forgivable as a momentary lapse borne out of instinctual hurt, and could have been repairable had Day reconsidered soon after and extended Mhok some grace. But in this episode, we find out Day blocked Mhok and refused to communicate with him again after that night, and has left Mhok completely in the cold for three years after he failed to be perfect one (1) time.

And this episode? Was on Day’s side in this conflict. Mhok is the one to return and start pursuing Day again. Mhok is the one to broach the topic of their breakup. Mhok is the one to thank Day for breaking his heart and tell him he did nothing wrong (y’all, I almost threw something at the screen). Mhok’s grief and trauma go completely unaddressed in this finale until they try to play the Rung card for one last moment of sentiment. Day cries to his mother about how he just doesn’t know if he can forgive Mhok. And in the end, Mhok makes the grand gesture, missing his flight to go to Day and stay in Thailand with him despite the successful life he has built in Hawaii.

The cognitive dissonance I felt watching this play out was extreme. I rarely see a writer misunderstand their own characters and relationship conflict so thoroughly. In order to believe in this romance we needed to see Day finally show some empathy for Mhok, take responsibility for his own mistakes, and be the one to make an effort this time. We needed to believe that Day has the capacity to be a supportive partner to Mhok even when he’s struggling. But Day didn’t demonstrate any of that, and so I simply don’t believe in this relationship. I don’t believe Mhok can trust Day not to abandon him again when some other major life event intervenes and Mhok is less than perfect. And that’s a shame, because the show really almost had something here with these two. 

And that’s all I got. What a disappointment this show turned out to be. If you need me, I will just be over here in my little corner imagining the Night and Porjai romcom that we never got and pretending the rest of this show ended several weeks ago.

#last twilight #last twilight the series #thai bl #shan shouts into the void

[talkfastwalkfaster]

Moonglade ~ AOTC!Anakin Skywalker

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

A/N: this took me way too long to write & i'm not completely happy with how the beginning turned out but. also, this quickly became a purely self-indulgent fic, especially during the end portion. but i hope u guys enjoy this as much as i ended up doing ♡ WC: 2,035 Warnings: fluff, making out

˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊

You glanced around the temple halls — despite knowing that the chances of you two getting caught after hours were slim, you still wanted to be careful. “Are you sure we should be doing this out in the open? Anyone could walk past and see us, Ani,” you whispered, wondering why you agreed to meet him behind a column instead of in one of your quarters.

Anakin chuckled softly before leaning in and kissing you. “You worry too much, angel. What’s the point of sneaking out if there’s no excitement to it? We’re not even truly doing anything. Besides, I missed you.”

Your heart fluttered at the sentiment. Since the war started, you hadn’t seen much of each other lately — with Anakin co-commanding the 212th with his master and you the 104th with yours. You supposed that he was right. The two of you had done worse when sneaking out — from taking a speeder and exploring Coruscant to hiding on top of the temple, this seemed insignificant compared to them.

You smiled and unconsciously leaned closer to him, wanting nothing more than to be intertwined with him so you would never have to be apart again. “I missed you too. I’m sorry for missing your comm yesterday. Master Koon was very insistent on having no distractions during training.”

Anakin had returned from a mission yesterday and craved to see you again after being apart for the better of two weeks. Despite having possessed this longing, he waved off your apology, knowing that he only commed to inform you that he was back, nothing too important. “It’s alright, I understand. We all get busy.”

You shook your head, feeling guilty that you weren’t able to welcome him back as soon as you would have liked. “Still, I should’ve at least sent a message, even if it was a small one.”

Anakin gave a soft shrug, his blue eyes glanced over to you before looking up at the murals — he didn't really mind that you hadn't messaged him, though he found it sweet that you felt bad about not being able to do so. He let out a soft laugh as his eyes wandered back to you. “You really gotta cut yourself some slack, angel. You're always getting stressed over the little stuff," He said softly, his hands slipping from his robe’s pockets to rest on his hips.

While it may not seem like a major thing to anyone else, it was important to you. You took your relationships very seriously, always ensuring that you were not purposely ignoring someone and always attempting to ensure everything went smoothly. You supposed that was why you were a Consular —  you consistently made sure that issues were arbitrated and were more than ready to be the mediator if needed. 

You scrunched your nose, not liking how dismissive he was. You knew that if the roles were reversed, he would be doing the same thing you were attempting. “I’m trying to apologize here,” you argued adamantly, wanting him to understand this was meaningful to you, despite him waving it off as nothing.

Anakin understood why you were being pushy about this, he knew you didn’t enjoy avoiding people, regardless of it being your intent or not. Truthfully, he hadn’t expected you to answer in the first place — he understood that your life was getting hectic now, especially with your trials coming up soon.

 He snickered softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Oh, that was an apology?" He said with a grin as he nudged you playfully. He couldn't resist teasing you, having already forgiven you before you even attempted to make amends with him — despite there not being a reason for you to apologize. 

You nodded, unwilling to give in. “Mhm, I apologized, and now you’re supposed to accept it and forgive me. That’s how this works.”

His eyebrows raised slightly as he shook his head — you could be the most difficult person sometimes. He couldn’t complain about it though, it was one of the qualities he loved most about you and something that drove him to you. “Is that how it's supposed to work? Because it sounds like you're being a bit pushy." He taunted.

You crossed your arms and leaned back on the pillar, investing in the banter. “I’m not being pushy; you’re just not cooperating.” You weren’t truly attempting to force your apology down his throat — you knew there was no need. But you did enjoy this type of conversation with Anakin; it allowed you to detach from the turbulence that was becoming extremely common in your life.

Anakin gave a low chuckle as he looked down at you. “Has anyone ever told you how stubborn you are," He teased, leaning closer to you while his mouth curved into a playful smile.

You shrugged, “Once or twice.”

You both knew that you were the most determined person he had ever met, and he adored you for it. Anakin laughed softly before lowering his voice and leaning even closer to you, his sapphire eyes shining in the darkness.

“Let me rephrase that —  do you realize how insanely stubborn you are?"

You scrunched your nose and attempted to hide your growing smile, “So I’ve been told.”

Anakin chuckled, leaning his forehead against yours as he spoke softly, “Mhm, you're a stubborn girl who doesn't easily yield."

You smiled tenderly, loving the closeness between the two of you. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

Anakin's cheeks heated at the proximity, glancing down at you with those twinkling blue eyes that made you want to dive in and be engulfed in him forever. “I actually think it’s quite an endearing trait.” His voice was soft as he spoke in a whisper, as though he was telling you his greatest secret.

You tilted your head up to look into his eyes — you knew you would never be tired of looking into them — they were one of your favorite features of his. They were like a siren’s call, pulling you in until you could no longer have any thoughts that didn’t involve Anakin. Before you got too lost in his eyes you quickly remembered he had spoken to you and murmured back, “Is that so?”

Anakin nodded softly as he smiled at you — his heart raced at your admiring gaze, and he couldn’t help the soft blush that spread across his cheeks. “Oh, most definitely.” His voice was low and gentle as he lowered his head a little closer so that his nose was hovering just above yours.

You leaned up and kissed him tenderly, a reflection of the love you hold for him. His breath hitched at the sudden but pleasant contact of your lips. One of his arms wrapped around your waist while the other found its way to the back of your head as he gently pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours.

The feeling of your body pressed against his made his heart rate skyrocket as he kissed you back with equal passion and fervor.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. You wanted to be encased in his hold forever — to simply be with him and never have to worry about anything else. The soft proclamations of love that came from both of your lips said everything the kiss did not: how much you ached for each other while he was gone, the unspoken promise of spending as much time as you could before one of you was shipped off onto another mission.

Anakin panted lightly as he pulled away from you — his need for air overcoming the urge to kiss you for all eternity. He slowly brought the hand that was behind your head to cup your cheek, softly caressing your skin with his thumb and looking at you as if you hung the stars. His eyes roamed your face taking in every freckle and scar, wanting to burn you into his memory in hopes that you would haunt his dreams when he was unable to see you physically. 

He dipped his head to quickly kiss you again before gently murmuring, “Let’s get married.” He had fantasized about this for ages now — never having enough courage to reveal his deepest desire to you, but now seemed like a better time than any. 

“What?” You whispered incredulously, not quite believing the words that came out of his mouth.

Anakin laughed softly and lowered his voice, “You heard me. We should get married.”

You moved your hands to his shoulders, lightly gripping them, “Is this your way of proposing to me?”

His eyes twinkled with amusement, his gaze never breaking yours. “Maybe,” His voice was soft and soothing as he lowered his head once more to briefly press his lips against yours. “Yes.”

You thought about it for a moment — secretly dating is one thing, but getting married would mean you were fully going against the Code, something you could never come back from. However, a part of you rationalized that you had already done that, and if you had already broken it, what was the harm in going one step further?

“Okay, let’s get married,” Your face broke out into a grin and you giggled softly, not quite believing this was truly happening, but you wouldn’t oppose it if it meant you were wholly committing to your love for Anakin.

Anakin felt as though his heart would burst out of his chest as a smile spread across his face and his eyes lit up with excitement. His mind was quickly filled with thoughts of being tied to you forever, of never having to worry about losing you to someone else. He couldn’t contain himself and brought his other hand to your face to cup both of your cheeks while he smothered you with kisses all over your face. 

His voice was soft as he pulled back slightly, “You’re completely okay with this?” Despite your agreement, he wanted to ask again to ensure you were completely on board with the idea. He knew you wouldn’t lie to him or say yes just to make him happy, but he wanted to be reassured that you were committed to going through with this.

You nodded and brought your hands up to cover his, unable to contain your smile. “I’m sure. I want to be with you, Ani, forever.”

Anakin laced his fingers with yours and squeezed them gently; a warm, fuzzy feeling spread throughout his body — he was overjoyed with your answer. It was difficult for him to believe how he got so lucky with you; he liked everything about you — your smile, the way you spoke, the way you carried yourself… You were simply perfect in his eyes and he was grateful that you were willing to spend the rest of your life with him.

The thought immediately made his heart sing — he was going to marry you; he would have you all to himself and soon be able to call you ‘his wife.’ “I love you, angel,” He spoke softly, his voice full of love and joy. He buried his face into the crook of your neck and gently kissed where it met your shoulder. 

His actions made your heart melt — you cherished every moment with him. You kissed the side of his head and lifted a hand to cup the back of it while you murmured, “I love you too, Ani.”

A small, content sigh escaped his lips and he squeezed you tighter against him, enjoying your soft, comforting embrace. 

You ran a hand through his hair and whispered, “We should head back to one of our quarters before we’re out here too long.”

Anakin hummed softly in response before lifting his head from your neck and giving you one last kiss. He took your hand and interlaced his fingers with yours as he started to lead you out of the temple’s halls and toward his room. 

You leaned against him and lightly squeezed his hand as he guided you. The walk to his room was filled with silent bliss, and you knew that despite the chaos happening throughout the galaxy, you would always be able to rely on Anakin. 

#nat's tales #⋆anakin⋆ #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x you

[nastylittleghouls]

Querencia

Relationship(s): Aether/Aeon

Rating: Explicit 

Words: about 1.6k (One day I’ll be able to write something small but today is not that day) 

Summary: It’s still difficult for him to stay quiet and unmoving, so unlike his nature. To not react without prompting to how Aether looks at him from time to time, over the rim of his glasses, appraising. Promising. Sometimes telling him to stretch out his legs or get his pillow with a gentle nudge of quintessence.

or

Aeon just wants to be Aether's good boy

Tags and warnings:  D/s dynamics, pre-negotiated scene, face fucking, Aeon being a good boy and a fiend for Aether’s monster dick, a tiny smidgen of angst- blink and you might miss it. Implied quintosis, a little bit of mean!Aether and orgasm denial. That's about it I think 

Notes: This is the result of @a-hearts-a-heavy-burden and me losing our minds about Aether pleasuring his guitar and ending with how willingly Phantom/Aeon would get on his knees for the big quint. It took a bit of a different direction than I thought but I am not mad about it. Unbeta'ed.

AO3 link for the so-inclined

Querencia: The place where one's strength is drawn from; where one feels at home; the place where you are your most authentic self.

Aeon slips into Aether’s office while he’s making his ward round. He knows the basics by now. Had watched longingly how Dewdrop knelt at Aether’s feet. And Aether, ever the observant one, had taken him under his wing with a loving but firm hand while Aeon had hung onto every word, every touch like the air he needed to breathe. 

Take off your clothes. Fold them neatly and put them on the chair. On your knees. Head bowed. Hands on thighs, unless other instructions are given.  Be seen but not be heard. 

He had felt like he had found another purpose in Aether’s pride. 

It’s still difficult for him to stay quiet and unmoving so unlike his nature. To not react without prompting to how Aether looks at him from time to time over the rim of his glasses, appraising. Promising. Sometimes telling him to stretch out his legs or get his pillow with a gentle nudge of quintessence. 

The way people come and go. Either treating him like he isn't right there, naked, rock hard, and leaking a puddle on the floor, only stealing looks at him. Or partaking if Aether allows it. 

Like Swiss dropping by to discuss plans with Aether, his hands casually wandering over Aeon’s upper body with teasing caresses over his neck and tweaking his nipples as he talks. Or Dew nudging the tip of his boot under his balls, making Aeon’s sensitive cock slide over the leather just so as he leans over the desk to pull Aether into a heated kiss. Tempting him to seek friction at the display in front of him and testing his obedience. No doubt hoping he’ll fail as Dew enjoys seeing him punished as much as he enjoys being part of the aftercare. 

He hopes he’ll be spared by visitors today. He selfishly wants Aether for himself, wants to be good only for him. 

The door opens and Aether finally returns. If he‘s surprised to find Aeon here again so soon he doesn‘t let it show. The spade of his tail drags fleetingly over Aeon's spine as he passes to get to his desk, making him arch up, and ends with a playful slap on his ass. That’s his greeting, his acceptance of Aeon‘s servitude. 

Aeon breathes the air with Aether’s renewed scent in deeply, then curls his tail around himself and waits. Let’s himself thrive in the simple but meaningful act of kneeling in Aether‘s presence, for Aether, ready to dedicate his body to him to ease his stress level and make the crease between his eyebrows vanish. The thought makes him glance at Aether‘s cock, laying against his thigh under the loose scrubs, moving enticingly when he shifts his leg. The things he would give to have that long thickness filling him already.  Stretching him impossibly wide, the ache, the taste… 

They both need each other, Aeon‘s sure of it. 

When Aether finally beckons him over, his body excitedly rises upwards, one alredy foot on the floor, about to push him upwards and he instantly knows he fucked up. He bites back a frustrated whine and lowers himself back down. Apologizing and hoping Aether won’t punish him for it. 

Aether just sighs with a hint of disappointment.

“Go on. Try again”.

Relieved that Aether feels gracious today, his voice having that certain cloying tone, Aeon rises again, properly only onto his stiff knees this time, and crawls over to Aether. His cock bobs in front of him, dripping all over the floor as he moves, giving Aether a good view of him. He wants to preen under his gaze.   

Aether’s large hands greet him when he settles again, stroking Aeon’s beaming face as he smiles down at him. The smaller ghoul nuzzles into the touch, kisses Aether’s rings reverently. Tries to wriggle his tongue under them to taste his sweat, and licks at the pad of his fingers where the ink has stained them. His eyes never leave Aether’s face, looking at him like he’s one of the seven princes of hell himself. 

„Such a sweet boy. Kneeling so prettily for me. You wanna help me relax, don‘t you? ” 

Aeon shivers at the praise before he nods fervently, eyes wide and glassy, whispering a “yes, sir. Please” and letting his mouth drop open and his tongue roll out in invitation, eager to be of use. Aether strokes his cock leisurely, pleased with the way Aeon offers himself and follows his every movement. Every word. Attention fully on him. Like it should be.

“Hands behind your back, grip your wrists. If you let go, I’ll stop. Understand?” 

Aeon nods again, shifting to do as he is told. Curling his fingers around his wrists as tight as he’d want his cuffs to be, digging into the finger-shaped bruises already on his skin. The feeling forces him to take a deep breath. 

It's a slow and intentional thing when Aether squeezes his cock from root to tip, forcing pre to pool in the slit. He shifts forward and drags the head of his cock over the smaller Quint's tongue with a small moan, Aeon's eyes rolling into the back of his head when the taste hits, a reedy whimper escaping his throat. A high-strung please is pressed into Aether’s mind along with it. 

Fingers fisted in Aeon's hair, Aether uses his grip to feed the little ghoul his cock, slides in until there’s no more for Aeon to take and then just holds him there.  Lets the tip rest at the back of his throat, groaning approvingly when he feels Aeon swallow around him, body going slack at the weight, at the way he can feel every single bar of his Jacobs ladder sitting on his tongue, how it fills his whole mouth and stretches his lips wide. His mind goes pleasantly hazy, everything narrowing down to Aether and pleasing him. Helping him destress. Being useful. Nothing else. 

Aether pulls him off, only to instantly push him back down and press in deep again, not letting him draw a full breath. Saliva drips messily over Aeon's chin and onto his chest as Aether uses him, fucks Aeon’s mouth in deep strokes, his sounds of pleasure washing over Aeon like warm summer rain. The small Quint’s hungry little whines and moans fill the room, slender hips hump the empty air in a desperate search of friction he’s not allowed. Drawing quick little breaths whenever Aether pulls his cock out just enough that air can flow and flushing hotly at the loud wet squelching noises he’s sure everyone can hear every time Aether pushes back in.   

„Lucifer, your pretty mouth. Made to be ruined”

The praise has Aeon tonguing at the metal adorning Aether’s cock, doing his best with the little room he has. He just wants to give Aether more and show how grateful he is.  

“That’s good. Really fucking good. Such a sweet boy for me,” Aether breathes, head tipping back. His fingers tighten in Aeon’s hair, his thrusts get a little sloppier, just that little harder. Aeon keens, long and high, too far gone to notice that Dew’s name falls from Aether’s lips in the throes of pleasure, in between his praises.  It almost overwhelms him, his ruddy cock kicking hard between his legs. His tail curls around Aether‘s ankle, needing something to ground himself before he loses it.

Then Aether slides in deep again and comes, momentarily depriving him of the taste where he wants it the most, staying there until his cock’s done twitching.

It's wonderful.

Aether drags his cock out oh so slowly and leans back in his chair, breathing labored. He graciously lets Aeon follow and keep mouthing at him, catching what he couldn’t swallow with his tongue, watching the blissful face of the little ghoul as he enjoys his extra treat. He ponders how good Aeon’s mouth would feel struggling on his knot and his cock twitches, causing a delighted noise from the ghoul beneath him. 

Maybe later today. 

His fingers in Aeon’s hair loosen and his hand just rests affectionately at the back of his head, twirling the short strands around his fingers until he starts to soften and overstimulation sets in.

“That’s enough, little star”.

Aeon takes the cue and when Aether’s all clean and tucked back into his pants, Aeon rests his head on his thigh, gazing adoringly up at him with a hoarse sounding purr, still happily working his mouth around the ache in his jaw, the cum still swirling around in his mouth. His face is a mess of fluids, lips swollen and Aether makes a mental note to snap a photo for his collection

„Please, sir. Would you…“ Aeon sounds wrecked, his voice cracking then giving out. He swallows. 

“Hmm?” A Cheshire cat-like grin appears on Aether's face as he tips Aeon’s face up and offers his water bottle to him. Encouraging him to take a sip.  He knows exactly what’s coming. Or rather, what isn’t. 

“M..may I come, sir?” 

Aether makes a considering sound, reaches down to drag a fingertip over the length of Aeon's sensitive cock, then sucks it into his mouth. Aeon’s eyes widen, and a wounded sound that shows how close he is to coming leaves him, hips jerking forward in minuscule motions even after Aether’s touch is gone. He pants as his cock keeps throbbing and pre-cum drips in rivulets down the sides. 

“I think I’ll keep you like this for a while longer,” Aether says, then folds his hands behind his head and smirks. 

“Now lick your mess off of the floor.”

#Aether Ghoul #Phantom Ghoul #Aeon Ghoul #Dewdrop Ghoul #nameless ghouls #Aether/Phantom #Ghost band fanfic #the band ghost fanfiction #Aether/Aeon #Aether Ghost #Phantom Ghost #Aeon Ghost #Quintessence Ghouls #Mighty Feathers

[happy74827]

Parallel Hearts

[Marty Mcfly x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: Just as he was about to leave for good, Marty finds himself at a standstill because of you.

WC: 1,595

Category: Fluff

I always wanted to write about the Enchantment Under the Sea Dance and now I have. Enjoy!

『••✎••』

“Marty, that was very interesting music.”

The words were uttered in a tone that was as dry as a desert, but Marty didn’t care to take heed of it, for he had a mission – and that was to get home as fast as he could.

He knew Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower, with the DeLorean fully hooked up and ready to go. His face was probably set and grim, too. In fact, Marty was certain Doc would be more than a little concerned, since Marty had been away much longer than he had told him.

But he had to make sure he was going to be able to return back to 1985, so what did it matter if he spent an extra ten minutes just to make sure he was still going to exist?

Besides, the old-fashioned audience actually appreciated his guitar skills (for the most part), and it felt good to be noticed, even if it wasn't the type of audience he was used to. It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

And so… Marty was going to leave this outdated time period behind with a smile and return back to 1985, the town Hill Valley that he had grown up in, where he had his best friend who knew him, his frenemy, his parents, and the life that he loved.

He was going to return to the Hill Valley he called home, but then he saw you.

He had only met you a couple of times before, but he recognized you instantly. It was hard to forget the young woman that was so dedicated and so determined to help him out in his mission, despite being completely clueless about it. You had helped him a great deal with setting up George and Lorraine, and the way you had helped him was something he could never repay.

He couldn’t help but feel a slight twinge of regret when he thought of his rushed adventure in the past, because he had never gotten the chance to get to know you. He was just aware of your name and that you were a good friend of Lorraine.

“Leaving so soon?” you asked, the smile on your lips soft and gentle. Your eyes sparkled in a way that was very familiar, and he remembered how Lorraine had looked at him when he first approached her.

It wasn't exactly the same look, but there was a spark of something in your eyes that made Marty stop in his tracks.

Maybe it was a mistake to linger, because he knew that his life was quite literally on the line. And yet, here he was, doing just that.

“Uh, yes?” he replied, feeling like an absolute fool for being so tongue-tied. He could barely manage to get a word out, and his mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. He was usually cool under pressure, but right now, he was anything but cool.

Your expression softened, and you looked at him with such sympathy that it made his heart ache. He could feel a blush slowly creeping up his cheeks.

It didn’t make any sense, he didn't even know you! And yet, it was as though there was a connection. It wasn’t something physical, or something tangible, but something deeper and more meaningful.

Marty couldn’t understand his strange thoughts, or the way his heart was racing so fast. The sensation was unfamiliar, and it was almost as though he was experiencing his own life from an outsider's perspective.

It was strange, and not something that was easy to describe. But one thing was certain...

He really did want to get to know you.

You tilted your head slightly, a look of amusement crossing your features. He realized then that he had been silent for a long time.

"Are you alright?" you asked, reaching out and placing your hand on his arm. "You look a little lost."

“What? No! I mean, yes. Yeah, I'm… peachy." he replied quickly, trying his best to regain some semblance of composure. "I, uh, just wanted to thank you again for helping me out with the whole Lorraine and… uh, George situation. It worked, and they're together... in love. Soon, they'll get married and have three kids, and hopefully this time be a happy family.”

He could see your confusion at his words, but you hid it well as a smile spread across your face. "That’s… very specific, but I’m glad it worked out. Lorraine really needed someone who would cherish her. She's a very sweet girl."

There was a long silence, and Marty felt his heart thumping wildly against his chest. It was so loud that he was certain you could hear it.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm his nerves. It wasn’t working.

One thought told him that he needed to go. The other urged him to stay.

A strange mixture of fear and anticipation made his heart pound even faster. He glanced around the room, searching for an escape route.

It would be easier to walk away now and forget about you. He knew he couldn’t afford to dally, not when Doc was waiting for him at the clock tower. He would probably have a heart attack if he was kept waiting any longer.

Marty turned to look at you, his blue eyes meeting yours. "I should, uh… really be going," he said, his voice faltering. "It's been really nice to see you again."

Before he could take another step, though, you reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him in his tracks.

Marty turned to look at you, and was surprised by the intensity in your eyes.

"Can you spare one dance?" you asked, giving him a small smile. "Just one. It'll be quick, I promise."

He had a feeling it would be a bad idea. He was on a deadline, and time was running out. He was also supposed to be avoiding any form of contact with people from the past. It could change history, and he couldn't risk making another mistake.

But wouldn’t it be a mistake if he walked away from you?

What if the reason he felt this strange connection was because he was meant to get to know you? What if it was a sign that he was destined to meet you, and that he shouldn't walk away?

Marty took a deep breath, and decided that, for once, he was going to go against his better judgement and follow his heart.

Doc would probably hate him for it, but Marty didn’t care. What he did care about was the way your smile brightened when he caved and allowed you to drag him back.

He was slightly irritated with the fact that the band was still playing without that guitar, as it meant they completely bullshitted him on the whole 'can’t play without Marvin' thing, but when he took your hand in his, he forgot what he was mad about, and found himself getting swept away by the moment.

It wasn't a complicated dance. In fact, it was incredibly simple, but it was nice. Dancing with you was nice. It was like dancing in a dream. He felt like he was floating on air as he was lulled by the soft melody of the song.

It was a magical moment, and he wished it could last forever. However, reality came crashing down upon him, and he was suddenly reminded that his time was short.

He had to get home.

"I... I really have to go," Marty muttered, his gaze flickering down to your lips. You were close, so close that he could feel your warm breath tickling his cheek.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss you, but he knew that would be a mistake. If he kissed you, it would only complicate things.

As much as he wanted to stay, he had to go.

"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I wish I could stay, but I… I can't.”

"That's okay," you replied, giving him a sad smile. "I understand."

You pulled away, and Marty instantly missed the warmth of your body pressed against his. Man, this was hard. He had never felt such a strong attraction to anyone before, and it was a struggle to resist.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and looked at him with an unreadable expression.

"Marty," you began, and his name sounded so sweet coming from your lips. "Thank you. For everything."

Before he could ask what you meant, you leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It was light and quick, but it was enough to send his heart racing.

"Goodbye, Marty," you whispered, a hint of sadness in your voice.

And then you were gone, disappearing into the crowd, leaving him standing there with his jaw hanging open and his heart racing.

He didn't know what to say or how to react.

All he knew was that he would never forget the look in your eyes as you turned and walked away. It caused his hands to shake a little, and he couldn’t help but run one through his hair.

Damn. He couldn’t stop the memory of the way your lips felt against his cheek from lingering in his mind. It was a moment he would never forget.

He didn’t know if he would ever see you again, but he knew that he would never forget the girl with the sparkling eyes.

And, perhaps, if he was lucky, he would see you again.

#marty mcfly x reader #marty mcfly #marty #mcfly #marty mcfly x female!reader #bttf x reader #back to the future gif imagine #back to the future imagine #back to the future #bttf fandom #bttf #doctor emmett brown #emmett brown #christopher lloyd #michael j fox #x reader #reader #female!reader #bttf ii #bttf iii #time machine #1980s movies #1980s #1985 #george mcfly #lorraine mcfly #needles #biff tannen #biff #bttf trilogy

[itjazzbicch]

Determination

Pairing:  Lars Alexandersson x Reader 

First time writing for Lars, so I hope I did well! 

Summary: Returning to their duties after being fatally injured during this madness of war, the reader surprises Lars as they are deeply in love but can't exactly have what their heart desires, not till the war ends and their duties are fulfilled...

Warnings:  Flashback (it is italicized!) Mentions of previous injury and wounds

Word Count: 0.6k 

"We'll be setting out in ten minutes..."

After six months, it was finally time for us to advance, helping Jin take down Kazuya once and for all. Lee and Lars had already made preparations, but there was one thing that Lee was keeping from Lars...

"Today..." When Jin was still missing months ago, I had been gravely injured while carrying out my operation regarding the international war that is still occurring. Everyone thought that I'd be out for good, but I was back, not only to help end this war, but there was someone special to me who needed to know that I had returned, smiling to Lars as I approached him and Lee on the rooftop of Violet Systems, ready to head out via aircraft. "We end all of this violence."

"Y/N-" Lars gasped, then was utterly speechless.

When our gazes met, I had never felt so many emotions bubble into me so quickly. The last time we saw each other was undeniably a horrible memory in his head, seeing how bloody and wounded I was, unsure if I was going to make it.

"You'll certainly be a great help, Y/N," Lee smiled at me, "Welcome back."

"Thank you," I smiled, my eyes still locked into Lars's as they glossed over, almost not believing his eyes. Even when the helicopter rotor blades spun and sent gusts of wind by us, Lars's hair whipping past his face, his gaze didn't leave mine for a moment.

------

"I'm not going to die on you, L-Lars...." I promised him the last time I saw him, my hand reaching out for him. "I will come back to you, I promise..."

-------

"I told you that I would come back," I smiled at Lars, finally face to face with him, "I promised."

"Y-You did..." His voice was low but full of emotion, and after seeing that Lee had given us a moment to ourselves and entered the aircraft, he showed his built-up emotions, hugging me softly at first, then squeezing me tighter and tighter, needing to feel me to know that this was real.

"And I'm not going anywhere," I whispered, hugging his head to keep him close, "We're going to end this war. Together."

The thought of the war wasn't in his mind at that moment, a gust of wind zipping past when our lips met, his arms pulling me close.

Lars never showed fear, but when I was wounded, and everyone feared I might not make it, he was terrified, as we had gone through so much together.

I wanted to wipe that memory away and focus on the future, for which we would fight tooth and nail. That's all I wanted: a bright future with him.

Kissing back, I held his face, keeping him as close as I could till our lips popped free, both of us gasping for air, feeling a spark as I had before when I found his blue eyes, smiling as that spark surged through me.

"I-I-" He was trying to speak but was still so shocked to see me here, the both of us laughing as he spat out, "I don't know what to say."

"And there's nothing wrong with that," I smiled, patting his cheek and kissing him one last time, "Besides, we have to focus on our duties for now."

I gave a soft but firm and assuring look at him, my eyes able to explain that this moment we had may have been short but meaningful, and the second we were done with our duties, we could have happier, longer moments just like this.

"You're right." He nodded, a determined look in his eyes as he stood up straight, both of us facing the aircraft. Taking his hand as I saw Lee waving for us, taking the first step of this wild journey we were about to begin:

"Let's end this war." 

2024 © itjazzbicch — do not repost or translate my work. Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome 

#tekken #tekken x reader #tekken x y/n #tekken fluff #tekken imagine #lars alexandersson #lars alexandersson x reader #lars alexandersson x y/n #lars alexandersson imagine #lars alexandersson fluff #read and enjoy

[harcove]

i think we need some more of billy being a simp for the reader. like he’s still a dick to everyone else but when it comes to the reader he’s a sweet blushy simp mess and everyone is just 👁👄👁🧍”huh?”

a/n: fr this might be my worst fic yet but i- i... oh well, i hope its okay ily anon forgive me pls i promise i tried- but i also was tired for part of it (i like to sit in my bed while half asleep and write at like 4 am sometimes) but here you go! I also kept it maybe slightly lowkey? Cause I do think Billy would be sweeter more so in private; but he can pull the charm and sweetness out in public too yk.

Length: 1.5k

Pairing: Billy x reader

Warnings: none really; slight mention of maybe apathy towards life on Billy's end, fluff if that's a warning lmao, OOC Billy probably? also Jason Carver ew

Oh, he's a Simp - B.H.

The majority of Hawkins High school population believed they had a good read of Billy Hargrove's character. He was the same with everyone; tough and a bit of a jerk- no sometimes just a straight-up asshole. Be it the tone of his voice, the way he wouldn't take people seriously, or the mischievous lit in his voice when he spoke to someone sometimes, Billy Hargrove was bad. And pretty much anyone around him who befriended him were like sheep; craving someone to follow.

But then there was you.

You were the object of his desires. The one who had taken up most of his thoughts- the good ones- and made him into some weirdly shapeable putty.

Not that shapeable though; no one could truly dictate Billy Hargrove. He wouldn't let them.

Billy leaned against the school steps railings; Tommy H and Carol stood near him with Jason Carver. All people that Billy could've really cared less about. He made 'friends' with them, but not really. When it came down to it, they just followed. And it felt nice to have that sort of power, the type where if he so much as gave Tommy a certain look, the freckled bully would heel like a dog and wait.

Stupid. He hated them.

Especially Jason Carver. And he knew that too.

The only meaningful bond he'd made since coming to Hawkins was you. So, when he saw you exit the school he visibly perked up, akin to a puppy seeing his family after they'd been out all day.

It was a bizarre sight for anyone to see. Billy Hargrove, looking at someone with such clear difference to how he looked at anyone else.

"Hey," Billy calls out to you, making you whip your head to look at him leaning on the railings.

He sounds like he usually does. Indifferent. Indifferent to people around him, to what they wanted or thought. He didn't care for them and they cared for him but only in the way of popularity. If Billy Hargrove were to die tomorrow, the only loss for these people would be someone to follow. No one would mourn him.

Maybe you would. If he did die, he hoped at least you'd mourn him.

You pivot to walk towards him, a smile dawning on your features. One that makes him almost smile in return. To everyone else, it looks like maybe his face twitched a bit, maybe a reaction to the sun or a thought he'd had. But his eyes are soft.

When you reach him, your messenger bag strap clutched in your hands, you give him a questioning look, but still smiling. Choosing to ignore the friends Billy kept around him; they'd never been nice people. And you avoided them as best you could. But you didn't avoid Billy even when he was with them.

Billy Hargrove was special. He was rough around the edges; someone who could be cruel and harsh- he could make people cower but also swoon.

He didn't scare you. He had yet to ever do a thing to you that suggested you should be scared. He had intimidated you before, how could he not? The way Billy carried himself demanded that he be respected, that he was a possible force to be reckoned with. Sometimes he still intimidated you, specifically when he was surrounded by his 'friends.'

"You need a ride home doll?"

He pulls his arm out from behind him and pulls you over to the railings, arm around your shoulder and neck almost engulfing you with his large leather jacket-clad arm.

His body was warm against yours as he held you close to his side. It was like you were made to fit in that spot.

Billy gave you special attention and affection he didn't dare offer to anyone else in the entire world. It felt nice, to have someone like Billy be this way with you.

Your relationship was a mystery to everyone around you, and even to yourself if you were being completely honest.

You weren't dating per se; you'd never spoken about being a couple and whatnot, and you weren't sure if you'd been on an actual date with him before. Did the times he took you to the diner after school count? Or the times he would sit in his car during the lunch period while you sat outside eating a sandwich count? No. No, you were pretty sure they didn't. 

Whatever your relationship was with him as of right now was something that lingered in limbo; it teetered between the unknown and something very obvious and clear-cut.

Billy was always one to make it known where he stood with people. Be it with words, or with his actions (aggressive or not, depending.)

Yet with you, he found himself keeping the status of your relationship covered in shadow. It was safe. Not defining it because defining it was committing.

And commitment was scary. He wouldn't admit it aloud, but he didn't know how to handle something like that. No one had ever been committed to him, so he was never committed to anyone.

He knew how he felt for you, and it was something he had never felt for anyone before. He had been in relationships before, Billy Hargrove was no stranger to relationships and being with someone else in an intimate manner. However, what he felt for you was something more than a lust that he could deal with in a night.

Was it love? He didn't know. He just knew that you were different. And he was different with you.

"It's okay," you respond to his offer, looking at him through your lashes, his cologne invading your senses when you turned your head to look up at him, "I actually was going to be staying after school to work on a project in the library... I just needed to use the payphone to call home and let my family know."

The library and Billy Hargrove didn't mix. But you and him, they mixed. They mixed well.

Carol and Tommy shared a look at the way Billy was interacting with you.

It was as if no one else existed around him when you had walked out the school doors. It was as if the bad mood he had been in (Tommy couldn't figure out why, but it was mainly Jason's fault, that's all he knew- anytime he'd try to broach the topic, Billy's claws threatened to peak out) had dissipated, or at least it had simmered at the sight of you. And his shoulder muscles seemed to ease a fraction, and his face, while it still looked indifferent, had warmed if only slightly.

It was small. But it was obvious to them. And everyone else.

"I'll stick around with you," he said after he took a deep breath in, getting ready to push himself off of his position against the railing, "can't have you sitting like a loser in the library on your own. Or trying to walk home in the dark."

"My dad could come get me you know," you roll your eyes but secretly you're happy, happy that he wants to stay with you. The library was boring, and albeit Billy wouldn't dare step foot inside the library on any occasion whatsoever, you made it different.

Bearable even.

He also knew he could convince you to leave within the first hour of being there. So it wasn't all bad.

"Scared of driving with me?"

"Sure," you jokingly say, pulling away slowly, "one day when you crash that pretty car cause you're driving way too fast it won't be funny anymore."

"Yeah, 'cause that's gonna happen."

It could, it was just a matter of if he cared if it did or not. That car was precious, the person inside? He wasn't so sure.

"Fine, you can stay," you were glad he was staying, you enjoyed being near this man, "but you can't talk or distract me."

"Never."

"Seriously Hargrove?" Jason Carver opens his big mouth. One that Billy could slap if he so desired, "You're going to the library, with this..."

"Go ahead," Billy had immediately changed in demeanor, fully pulling himself away from you and situating himself a foot in front of you as if he were protecting a baby doe, "finish the sentence shithead."

For everything, Jason wasn't someone who could even fight back against Billy, just like everyone else. Unless he really wanted to have a bloody nose, he would keep his mouth shut.

"...Whatever."

Tommy and Carol, for all their stupidity at times or rude comments and bullying of others, at least knew in those moments to be quiet. As weird as it was to see Billy so easily enraptured by someone, it had been this way since he met you. And nothing would change it.

"I'll see you in the library babe," how can he just call you that so casually; it makes your stomach flutter.

"Okay," you linger for a moment as if something else might happen. But it doesn't, and that's okay.

Because right now, your relationship is still trying to find its ground. It's still trying to see where it stands, and Billy Hargrove is still trying to figure it out himself.

All he knows is that he's a fool for you, and he doesn't hate that. He doesn't hate it at all.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #my writing #amy writes #oof not a good one forgive me #1k

[weirdkpopgirl]

Birthday Cuddles | Jeno Imagine #8

Title: Birthday Cuddles

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Warnings: the reader doesn't have the most positive mindset?

Word Count: 823

Author's Note: I wrote this a week ago, inspired by my past birthday. Maybe it's a little selfish for me to write something like this, but oh well. Originally this was written with Jaemin in mind, but I've been posting a lot for him and it's kind of a problem. Besides, Jeno's clingy personality suits the idea I had, so it worked perfectly. I hope you guys like it. And if it's your birthday too, perhaps this can make your special day even better ^ ^

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

As the years have passed, your birthday has become a bittersweet event that has lost its significance to you. With the number of people who have disappeared from your life—some you've even cut off, you simply didn't feel the need to celebrate. Being an introvert didn't help either. Still, as the hours passed, a tiny part of you wondered if anyone remembered your special day.

At least this year the weather mirrored your melancholic mood, as your mind was preoccupied with the stress of college. All the assignments and exams were gradually starting to wear you down.

When you finally returned to your small apartment, you felt nothing but exhausted and disheartened. The first thing you did after hanging up your coat was shed the nice outfit you had carefully put together that morning in exchange for your soft gray pajamas. It wasn’t like you had anything else planned for the day.

Just as you slumped onto the couch with a sigh, your head turned in response to the sound of your door’s passcode being unlocked. You quickly sat up, heart racing, as you spotted the familiar boy in a white hoodie and jeans. In his hand, he held a bouquet of blue and white flowers, and his eyes formed into dark crescents as they locked onto yours.

“Jeno?”

He removed his sneakers and slid into the soft blue slippers you always had set out for him before he made his way to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead. “Happy Birthday, babe.”

You frowned as he handed you the flowers and gave him a quizzical look. “Thank you. But don’t you have a schedule today?””

“Yeah, but we finished earlier than expected. So I asked Manager Noona to drop me off here,” He explained, as he sat beside you. “Now we have the rest of the evening to celebrate!”

Jeno sounded so pleased by the convenient change in his plans, yet you barely managed to smile back. As the person who knew you the best, he saw right through your facade. He could see in your eyes that something was bothering you.

“Do you…not want to celebrate?” his voice lowered. 

Though Jeno was aware of your gloomy feelings about your birthday, he had still clung to the hope that things might be different now that you two were together. But he was also one to respect your wishes, even if it meant missing out on a day that was supposed to be meaningful for you.

You shrugged and gently placed the beautiful flowers on the coffee table. Strangely, an overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry spurred as you timidly inquired, “Can we just cuddle, and maybe…you can give me some kisses?”

Jeno’s eyes softened at this request, as he knew you weren’t usually expressive about your desires. Without another word, he wrapped his arms securely around your stomach and held you close. Your bodies molded together in a warm embrace. His kisses were soft and tender, as his lips came in contact with your cheeks, forehead, and lips.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” he asked, wanting to ensure you were okay.

Fiddling with the drawstrings from his hoodie, you shook your head. “No, you’re all I need.”

With that, Jeno and you remained in this affectionate position. He played with your hair, while your head rested on his shoulder as your fingers traced light patterns on his chest. As the calmness of the moment began to consume you, Jeno finally spoke.

"I know this day may not feel special to you," Jeno murmured, "But it's important to me because today is the day my soulmate was born."

Touched by his words, you glanced up at him with teary eyes. “How are you always so perfect?” you mused.

Jeno chuckled and gently kissed your lips again. "I'm not perfect, but I'm perfectly in love with you."

"Oh my gosh, that was so cheesy," you giggled, hiding your face in his chest. Jeno laughed shyly, blushing from his own embarrassment. But he meant what he said.

Your lips met again in a sweet, lingering kiss that left you slowly melting into the warmth of his embrace once more. “But I’m also perfectly in love with you,” you confessed, after pulling away. “Thank you for being with me today.”

Jeno had to resist kissing you again because the urge was incredibly strong. Instead, he held you a little tighter.

“There’s no other place for me than right here, (Y/n),” he said sincerely. It was crazy how much he loved you, and how much you loved him. Though both of you struggled to show it at times, you had these intimate moments where you could appreciate each other.

Jeno was one person in your life who made you feel so loved on your birthday.

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ

#nct dream #kpop #nctzen #czennie #nct dream imagines #jeno #lee jeno #jeno x reader #jeno imagines #jeno scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct dream fluff #jeno fluff

[just-jordie-things]

Helluuu!! Is it fine if you do prompt numbers 30 and 71 with megumi? :>

I love how you write him so much that I can’t help but ask for a request HSDFH (I love all your works <3)

I hope this doesn’t bother you and have a wonderful dayy!! <33

30: Kiss Under A Full Moon 71: A Gentle “I Love You” Whispered After a Soft Kiss, Followed Immediately By A Stronger Kiss ___

you often walked with megumi when it was late enough that your classmates had returned to their rooms and staff was likely asleep and had given up on making sure everyone was where they should be once curfew passed.  in the couple of weeks that you’d snuck out your window to join him in a peaceful walk around campus, you’d never been caught.  you weren’t sure if this was due to no one noticing, or no one caring.  surely if megumi wanted to, he could pull some strings with gojo and anyone would look the other way.  you don’t think this has happened, but you’ve always wondered why your walks remained private, unbothered.

not that you were complaining.  you quite liked the alone time with your favorite person.  

what had once been a spark between you had blossomed into something beautiful, something new, and warm.  you had an inkling on what it was, that feeling that overcame you when his hand brushed yours, before your fingers linked together in a routine dance.  that softening in your chest that spread slowly through your whole body when you’d stand on the tips of your toes in order to reach his lips in a sweet kiss that felt like a secret only the two of you could ever know.

megumi was the first thing you thought of when you woke up in the morning, and he was your last thought before drifting into sleep- where you’d inevitably dream of him, too.

just because you’d never experienced this feeling before didn’t mean that you were unfamiliar with it.  in some odd way, when you’d come to realize what it was, it felt so familiar to you that it was like you’d gone home.

falling in love with megumi was like living a full life and returning to the earth from which you came.

“what do you think we’re made of?” you pondered in a quiet voice as you tilted your chin up to admire the stars.  the sky was perfectly clear, giving you a beautiful view of the night sky.  

tonight was a full moon, and you’d been so excited to share it with megumi that you’d nearly tumbled out of your window when he’d come tapping on it.  you could be a bit of a dork when it came to the more simple aspects of astrology, but megumi loved it.  it made him excited for these sorts of things, too.

“atoms” megumi answers, making you look at him with a crinkled nose.

the fond smile and gleam of mischief in his eyes told you he’d known this wasn’t the answer you were looking for.  of course he knew, you never asked him a question looking for the textbook response.  you always craved something deeper, something more meaningful.  these little big picture conversations were what drew the two of you together for these walks in the first place.  you’d lose hours at a time, walking in circles and sharing what you believed to be the secrets of the universe.  

“cells, blood, skin,” megumi continues, his small smile turning into a teasing grin.  “i could keep going, if you need tutoring in biology” 

“oh i’m sure you’d be happy to tutor me in biology” you tease back.

megumi was great at dishing it out, but he could never take it.  this made flirting with him your favorite thing to do.  He would fluster, his eyes would dance everywhere but you, and he would always blush.  if his hair fell just right, sometimes you could even see the tips of his ears go red.

you giggle as he keeps his head down, his gaze focused on the sidewalk beneath him.

this time you spare him, your eyes returning to the sky to admire the moon in all of it’s full, pearlescent glory.  you walk together in comfortable silence for some time, both lost in your own thoughts, both sneaking glances between the night sky and each other, each when the other wasn’t looking, leaving only the moon to witness the equal infatuation you shared for one another.

as much as megumi had grown to adore the night just as you had, he had a much, much deeper adoration for you and your company.  you had first stumbled upon one another in surprise one night, worrying both of you that the other was going to snitch for being out past curfew.  it had surprised him when you explained that you don’t sleep well, so you’d taken up trying to learn a few constellations.  megumi had always been rather reserved, so when he found himself admitting he didn’t sleep well either, he’d surprised the both of you.  soon your occasional path-crossing happened so often that it became an unspoken routine, and that in turn became megumi sneaking all the way around the dormitories to your window to spend even more time with you, which of course brought you to where you were now.

enamored, infatuated, in love.

he’d known he was in love with you for some time now, but megumi had yet to find the right time to tell you.  it seemed something, or someone, was always getting in the way.  and, well, if he were being truthful, he was a little afraid to tell you.  sometimes he’d think he had the right moment, and all he had to do was say those words, but he’d look at you and his throat would get dry and his palms would get clammy and it felt like gravity was crushing him until he was so small you couldn’t possibly hear him if he spoke.

“what’s goin’ on in your pretty head?” 

your soft words pulled him from his thoughts and he pauses next to you when he notices you’ve stopped walking.  he realizes now that you’d been slowing to a stop for a little while now, as if both of you had agreed to drag your feet for as long as you could help it.  

the moon finds it ironically romantic.

megumi’s knuckles skim the back of your hand, timid fingertips brushing into your palm before you wrap your fingers around them, holding onto them gently, but firmly.  you’re sure in your actions, something megumi always admired because he often struggled to initiate these sorts of things.  you still made him nervous, an effect you relished in and he occasionally despised.

“nothin’,” he answers after a few beats pass.  he shuffles closer to you, making a blush accompany your small, curious smile.

he forgets that he has the ability to reduce you to a bashful mess just as well as you.

“just you” he adds, softer, as if to keep it a secret from the moon watching you closely.

your blush deepens and your eyes flicker away from his, only for a moment, just to collect yourself before you can’t help but look up at his pretty eyes again.

megumi’s eyes remind you of the night, blue, so deep they seem endless, so pretty they seem like a world wonder.  that soft feeling in your chest begins to spread through you, relaxing your muscles, warming your blood.

��me?” you intend to tease him, but your voice is soft, almost shy.

“yeah,” megumi hums, his lips curling into a smile as he watches you visibly soften before him.  his hand squeezes yours with a gentle fondness.  “you” 

your own smile barely begins to stretch into a grin before he’s leaning towards you.  your eyes are fluttering shut as soon as the tip of his nose brushes against yours, the nuzzle an affectionate action that always had butterflies fluttering in your tummy before he finally does kiss you.

megumi’s kisses are the gentlest form of love you’ve ever experienced.  they’re soft, experimental as your mouth latches to his carefully, still trying to become an expert in the practice.  his lips are always warm, always smoothed due to his diligent use of chapstick- an effort he’d made shortly after these walks of yours began, before you’d even shown an interest in kissing him.  you’re not sure how many kisses you’ve shared in the last few weeks, but somehow each one felt just as electrifying as the first.

you part as megumi’s free hand reaches for your face, his fingers dragging slowly over the warm skin of your cheek, before he cups your face in it, warming your skin even more with the palm of his hand.  you smile at him adoringly as you lean further into his touch.

he’s lost in you, in the lingering feeling of your lips buzzing on his own, the fondness in your eyes, the prettiness of your smile, megumi’s completely gone.  he’d never wondered before- but he understands now why it’s called falling in love, because the way his heart soars could only be due to a freefall.  he lands somewhere among the clouds before he breaks your silence.

“i love you” 

his words are quiet, but you know they’re true, because he would never say anything he didn’t mean, and the way he’s looking at you like you’re responsible for the moon being at it’s fullest, truest form, has you knowing from the bottom of your heart that his words are genuine.

you’re not given the chance to say anything before his lips are crashing against yours in a way that’s new and exciting and you’re melting into without worrying about giving him your response.  your arms fly around his neck, anchoring yourself to him as you meet each kiss with equal fervor and passion.  you have to gasp for air between each one if you hope to keep your lungs full of oxygen, but air seems so silly and trivial when you’re in megumi’s arms and he’s kissing you now like his life absolutely depends on it.

even the moon seems to shy away at the display as a rolling cloud glides in front of it’s light.

but it still hears your hushed response when you do finally give into your human need for air.  with your nose still pressed into his and your lips so close they’re still touching as you whisper, “i love you too” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#fushiguro megumi #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi imagine #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguo x reader #megumi brainrot #megumi fushiguro #megumi #fushiguro #jjk #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff

[undercoverpena]

ix. not his place. not your place.

javier peña x dea f!reader | chapter nine of nowhere to run

chapter warnings: season three narcos spoilers. no use of y/n. use of a nickname. mentions of smut. feelings. angst. anxiety. ptsd. love thoughts. word count: 6.5k.

AN: sorry for the wait, I got really in my head about it all, but thank you to @yeyinde who listens to me ramble about my writing woes and also to the brilliant @guyfieriii who tells me things my brain won't let me believe.

dedication: i dont normally do dedications, but a special one to @thelightsandtheroses because her love for this has made me want to keep chipping away, even if i lost my way. thank you for being such a light.

You’d love to say that you'd been his the moment you had stood in his office. 

But you hadn’t. 

You fought losing yourself in his brown eyes more times than you’d like to count. 

Somewhere between his face being between your thighs and you riding him, you’d been sucked in—like a moth to a flame. 

You’d been able to peel back the thrown-up walls, while he’d been assessing how to take down yours. Until the two of you are both standing in rubble, staring at one another more bare than you have been in bed. 

“You have to work with Don Berna?” 

He’s looking at you, swiping his tongue across his teeth. Your heart falling in your chest. 

“Shit…”

“Indeed.”

The house of cards is floating down, haphazardly falling, ready to land and squash those who don’t get on the right side of it. You’re never sure if he is on the right side—not because of his past, but because they’re always one step behind. 

Chasing something, anything—everything. 

One thing away from finishing it, from drawing a red cross over another photo. 

It’s why you gnaw your lip, why your nail polish is picked off from your index, middle and thumb on the one hand, and one hand only. It’s what made you begin unravelling: the sight of your undoing evidence each time you stapled or picked up the phone. 

Because… you like him. 

Truly, like him. Could even, possibly, maybe love him. 

And it makes you want to plead. Beg him to move closer, at least. Close the gap. Let you clutch him. So much said, without words being spoken. A soft glance, warm eyes and a kind smile—both given and returned. 

“Don’t…”

But he does. 

Taking soft strides to close the gap, hand reaching up to take hold of your cheek. You know he can see the fear shimmering in your eyes. It sitting in the pools that you try to blink away. Hiding your anxiety, how much you want to protest but choose not to. 

You knew that was the thing with love, you could fight it, attempt to bury it, smother it in sex, whiskey and other destructive decisions, but it always cracked through. Always rose, standing in its flaming glory like a reborn phoenix. 

“Javi. Please…. Please don’t….” Die. Leave me.

“Not a fucking chance.” 

You let his forehead press to yours, eyes closing, managing to choke out, “Good.”

At some point along the way, before he’d gone to Cali, he had handed you a key to his place, and you had told him where your spare was. 

Easy, convenient. Practical. 

Those were the words you chose and the ones he leaned on. The two of you allowed them to be the reason you took the step, not because it made sense or felt right. 

Doing so allowed the two of you less rigid plans when it came to meeting. It allowed you not to rush as he sat outside your place, not needing to tap his steering wheel as you flicked lights on and off, dashing across your windows. It meant you didn’t have to wait to begin showering or cooking when it was time to be at yours. 

It also meant the two of you didn’t need to look in his mirror—just in case someone saw. Something he’s thankful for now, more than ever since your friends are back. 

In the days before the attempt to take down Miguel, it felt right to be in your possession for many reasons. Leaving his pocket—all heavy and meaningful—and finding a home in your palm. 

Because it also stood for something else. 

Just in case. 

The words linger, heavy and pulsing in the air. In case you need me for anything or shit hits the fan. 

Both of them are things they should keep an eye on and consider. It’s in the air, how dangerously close they all were—how things were in place, yet no clear direction paving its way. 

Then there was you. 

You who has shared all that you have with him, but won’t answer him truthfully when he asks if you’re okay. You save that for your nightmares. 

It’s another reason he handed you the key: a gesture, a promise: I’m here. So much so he hadn’t been sure how you’d react, watching you stare at it for a second before your fingers closed around it, and he felt able to breathe. 

Then you’d smirked. Is this in case I need your signature, sir? 

If his name hadn’t been shouted, he’d have congratulated you for it—slipped his tongue past your lips and tasted the coffee on your tongue. 

Instead, he spent the evening signing his name against you. First, your neck, then your collarbone, before he wrote over and over with his tongue between your slit—carving each letter, gripping your hips, controlling them as they tried to meet him. One of his palms flat on your stomach, making you wait—

Paciencia, he whispered. 

Blowing cool air over your soaked core, watching you write to wriggle, twisting yourself to meet him. Little pleas and begs leaving your lips, the same one that is more wit than honest. 

It was different. The way you two fucked. 

It had been for a little while, but that night it was noticeable, a shift ever present in the room—words sitting on the edge of his tongue as he captured kisses and swallowed your moans. 

He missed it when your nails didn’t slide down his back; he craved the way you looked at him before you let go. 

Things he hadn’t focussed on before, not with you or anyone else. 

Then, there’s the morning when he wakes to find you next to him. Sometimes asleep, sometimes just waking the same as him—sleep-filled eyes washing him in beauty, warmth, and a future that feels like he could have it. 

Though, Javi hadn’t expected to hear from you tonight—never mind seeing you. 

Had assumed that you’d be catching up with Van Ness, the two of you have clung to one another in the office—some part of you visibly snapping back into place before him. He’d have been jealous if not for how you iced out Fiestl—a smugness sitting behind his teeth as he nodded at the three of you before faking a reason to hide in his office. 

Your voice was barely a whisper when he picked up the phone, softly asking if you could come around—or whether he could come over. 

Something you never ask, which is why he’s there in record time, finding your spare and sliding it in. 

For saying usually, your door has a petulance for letting him in, the lock turns in with ease, greeting him with the darkness inside—all shadowed ornaments and streams of light from cars passing your window. Your curtains are limp, undrawn—not perfectly slid into their place as usual. 

Nothing seems as it should be, not even how your place makes him feel. Usually, it wraps warmth around him, all hopeful—swamped with happiness. Your home feels cold and withdrawn tonight—like it’s at a loss. 

The door clicks with a finality, placing the key inside the glass bowl with a chime, yet he doesn’t hear you call. Not a Javi, not a Peña. 

With each heavy step he takes, he expects light to blind him—your hand over the light switch, smirk so broad that his mind automatically takes a photo of it. It never happens. His hand moves for his phone, the other motioning for his gun as he passes the open kitchen, living room and bathroom door. 

His mind goes into overdrive, wondering if anything seemed out of place, if your voice had given anything away as he pauses outside the only one shut: your bedroom.

“Cariño…?” 

He considers knocking, tapping knuckles against wood as a warning, as a sign when he hears silence. But he twists the metal door knob in hand instead, opening it, expecting to find emptiness—made bed, cushions placed at the head. 

Javi finds none of that, removing his gun from his waistband to put on the side table—his phone following suit. 

Because what he finds instead is lit by the occasional headlight and the weak stream of the streetlight. Cold ochre shimmering across balled-up sheets, used tissues and the broken mess of a person at the centre. 

At first, he can’t tell if your eyes are open until a car slowly drives past—light reflecting from the walls and hitting your open irises. 

He says your name uneasily, each letting falling consciously from his tongue as he moves close to the bed. Only receiving the lowest hum back from the duvet and destruction.

The mattress dips, your body unmoving still as his fingers find the string of your bedside lamp. 

“I’m turning the light on—just need to see you.” 

He wishes he hadn’t. 

Black stains against usually manicured cheeks, tired, empty eyes staring into him—all forbidding as they wince and then land on him.

Javi knows shattered pieces typically cut skin, but his hand finds your exposed shoulder—coldness greeting him, sliding down the pads of his touch to his wrist and bones.

“Cariño.”

He says it differently, more a calling than questioning.

You blink, trying to erase your distress and pain—but it hangs all the same, like a banner, there all for him to see. 

“You came…”

His chest tightens, something falling from within as he releases a feeble breath. He knew, suspected it for a while, that you weren’t okay. Not pushing, not knowing if his words could be ones that could heal you. So he said nothing, let silence do its thing between the two of you, as his thumb brushed your cheek. Wiping across spilt grief and fresh tears.

“What…” 

You swallow it loud in the quiet—eyes furrowing before widening, as though hearing his words repeatedly.

He smiles, knuckles resting on your cheek, thumb stroking the edge of a smile he misses. 

“Talk to me, cariño. Please?”

More fall from your eyes, sliding down like rain droplets against dry cheeks and a sorrowful stare. If he could, he’d take it all from you. Urge the ball that clogs your throat to shrink—the one that lives inside you and has gotten matted with your soul. He’d do whatever you needed him to do. 

Your eyes fall from him, landing on a spot—darkness blooming over the colour as they unfocus. 

“I thought once you knew, it would feel easier. The same way I thought I’d be okay with seeing him back, Chris. Thought the distance would mean I didn’t hate him, but then I saw him and…” 

More fall in single file, orderly. 

Something tugging at the corner of his lips, because only you would have tears that fall in unison—that march down your cheeks and cut across your misery. 

“Did you know that I didn’t have a nickname before her? Luna—the moon. Said it was because I only came alive at night. The name was just for us—that name. Threatened to punch someone back in the States for using it.” 

Smirking, he watches as you blink. A river, cloudy with memory, scales down your face, tracing the outer edges of your nose and hanging expertly on your cupid bow. 

It catches—whatever comes next. 

Clings to the back of your teeth—rots on the tip of your tongue as he continues his ministrations on your cheek. Watching, studying—waiting for a cue, a mark. A sign. 

“…I don’t mind some, but there’s something about him using it that way.” 

You pause, the smallest of laughs slipping from your tight lips. “I wish you could have met her. She’d like you. You think I’m witty, but she was so much better at it. Barely needed to think. Always a retort—both in English and Spanish, always ready...”  

The last word hangs, syllables dancing until they run out of steam and are swallowed by silence. His knuckles pausing on your jaw, clearing his throat, finding your eyes flick up to him. 

They smother him in heaviness, so much so, it almost makes him crumble. The edges of him weakening, the knot in his chest that needs to make you smile constricting, wrapping further around his oesophagus— 

“She sounds wonderful,” he manages to say. 

Your face scrunching, a mix of agreement and anguish fighting in battle on who should show first—should prevail. 

“She was.” 

It wounds him to hold your stare, for the stinging edges of your grief to dig further into his spirit. Injecting more cause into his blood, more reason to keep fighting, pushing—hunting injustice until bars surround it.

When he blinks, he’s freed. Temporarily, but enough to think. To rest his palm under your chin, keep your eyes upon him.

“You think you can let me in, cariño?” 

His eyes flick down to the sheets, the duvet wrapped around you, trapped under limbs. 

It takes a second, one which spreads across space for far too long, but you nod. Shuffling awkwardly so a corner emerges—one he can lift and slide in. 

Your blouse is gone, but the rest of your work clothes still adorn your frame. Javi’s shirt rustles as he seeks to bring you comfort—to find a way to pull you close without forcing you to flee. 

“This okay?” 

It’s tinged with nerves—draping between you as he finds you still watching him. 

He'd have missed your nod if you were almost shoulder to shoulder. Only catching how the edges of white teeth bite down your bottom lip. Spotting the tremble before he sees the unmissable wobble as your eyes fill until they’re shimmering with a new wave that’ll crash down and coat them. 

“Cariño—“

“Lune.” 

He looks at you, takes it in. The look in your eyes, the way they burn unspoken emotions into him. 

“French, I know. She had to make an adjustment, claim it back before we left. She didn’t let anyone, not even Ch….him. But, I think she’d let you call it me,” you whisper, all hiccuped and difficult. 

Something unlodges inside of him, a thing which is determined to rid those two words. Because he suspects you’re thanking him because you don’t get this. Usually pushed, nudged to the edge until you devastate.

He kisses your hairline instead. Feeling you curl into him, head against his chest—and then he braces for the first shake, the eruption of shudders ripple from you to him. 

And he clings, clutching to root you here—to him, with him.  

“Javi…” 

His fingers continue sliding up and down, feeling soft skin as your breath flutters across his cheek. 

“Thank… thank you for coming over.” 

He smiles, spreading over his lips before he can hold it back, opening his eyes to face you. “I’ll always come, cariño.”

“Prometes?”

“Promesa, baby.”

Javi rarely dreams of the after. But he has begun to. 

You’ve stayed over at his place more often as of late. Easier, you’d tried to protest, and he never complained. 

The thoughts the dreams leave behind knock on him more frequently, especially when the darkness slides over the two of you, when you’ve gone quiet before soft shallow breaths fill the space in his room. It there, sitting on his tongue, wanting to ask:

What are you gonna do when it’s all over? 

A question which festers and burns—eroding a hole in his mouth and the back of his brain. It throbs more when he feels you curl against him, craving some form of touch before the two of you have to rise and pretend all over again. 

It’s why he likes it when you stay. When he can start the day with his palm on your cheek, lips slotted over yours. Pulling you flush against him as you whisper his name into the air—not tired of him, not even close. 

Because after it’s rushed, you need to do this or do that. The pretence needing to be kept up—him rushing to get in before you, more so now your friends are back. Fingers shakily doing his tie until you spot him in his kitchen, half-dressed, barely ready for the day, and your fingers smooth over his. Helping, shifting your hips against him as you loop his tie and knot it: the definition of a multitasker. 

Letting his eyes take you in, he lowers his hands to your hips. “You keep doing that, cariño, and we’ll undo your handiwork in a moment.” 

He likes the way you smile around him. 

How soft it is, the sharp edge you’d once purposefully wrapped it in, now gone. Faded. Vanished. 

“I could fuck you with your tie on, Peña.”

Javi knows that. Almost lets you prove it. Mouth opening to find words to say—

“You have a meeting, remember.” 

Gritting his teeth, jaw sliding to the side, he nods. 

Your fingers drop from the fabric as something sits in your eyes—a set of words that roll around that pretty head of yours he’s yet to decipher. 

“You think you’ll come here tonight?” 

Javi asks, hopeful. Not wanting to assume—not even with his spare on your keychain and most of your things in his bathroom. A smug look crosses your lips, making him leave ahead of you even harder. 

“I’ll be here. Prefer your water pressure than I do mine and the hands that come with it.”

He tortures himself by sitting in your lingering perfume on the commute. 

Fingers tapping on the wheel, thumb and index brushing in tight circles over and over as he parks his car, trying not to think of bubbles, water dripping down, you against the tiles. 

Like most mornings, he notes how dull the place is when you’re not around before he picks up the metaphorical weights he carries. The ones stuffed with expectations, getting it done—passing the board with the photos he can see when he blinks. 

Each minute until you arrive, the weight digs in. In the same way, it did before the night, he took you back—only being removed from his shoulders by your fingers and yours alone. 

It’s the relief you provide that makes him flick his eyes up as he hears someone arrive, casting a glance through the blinds—all on edge until he sees you. Until he knows you’re safe—something prickling, pecking at him that you’re not. 

It’s worsened since you told him everything. Since he saw you in the centre of your bed, all broken and at a loss. A part of him was angry with himself that he hadn't tried to take the weight from your shoulders, hadn’t noticed how close you had woven yourself, how unspooled you’d become. 

Worst of all, Javi wonders if there’s still a target on your back. Your face stuck up on some wall like the Godfathers are stuck on theirs, a thought easier to silence when you’re in sight. 

He knows it’s because he cares, feels things. It creeps into his chest, unwrapping, unfurling—spreading its vines until they loop around his muscles and bones. Making him feel so much it burns a hole in his tongue, in his heart—

“Morning,” you say, file in hand. 

His eyes lifting from the paper, watching you smile—body relaxing. 

Your words linger in the air, all innocent, airy as though you hadn’t said it to him already two hours ago. Fingers in his hair, nails scraping along his jaw as he rocked his hips into you, filling the air with breathy mornings and right there. 

He smirks, taking the file from you as you step into his office, beginning your usual morning rundown of his day, who has left messages, and what he hasn't done that needs handling. 

It’s not until you begin talking about having a meeting yourself, that he forces his head to look up from the file, does he take you in. Eyes dropping down your frame, not able to help himself, until—

“—so I have to go—“

“Is that my shirt?”

You pause, words dying on your tongue before you softly begin to smile. “How would I be wearing your shirt, sir?”

“Are you wearing my shirt, cariño?” 

Folding your arms, you shift your weight on the spot. His eyes scan behind you, spotting and noting that no one is within ear reach. Working out the probability of whether he has time to hook his finger in one of the belt loops of your trousers, pull you to him, shut the blinds and kiss you until your lips are swollen before duty calls. 

“If I were wearing your shirt, it would be because I ran out of time this morning to iron my shirt because someone needed assistance with their tie. So if this was yours, it’s merely being borrowed.” 

He swallows—something stirring inside of him. 

Because you’re wearing him, here. Out in the open, around their colleagues. He’d be able to look out of his window and see you dressed in him, marked in him. 

You’ve buttoned half of it, tucked it into the band of your trousers. His fingers want to trace the vest underneath the open buttons—take you in for a second, admire the way it’s styled so it looks less like him, and more like something new you’re trying with a pair of your trousers and heels. 

Your confidence falters; he watches it—how it wrinkles out over your face. “Wait…Javi, do you mind?” 

“Fuck no,” he says, more gruff. “Not one fucking bit. It’s just…”

“Just what?” 

He shifts his jaw, staring at you, tracing his eyes up and down your body—knowing how each curve feels, how your skin tastes. “I’m not going to be able to fucking concentrate.” 

“Wh… Javier Peña, do you like women wearing your clothes?”

“Not women. You.” 

You pull a face, smirking. “Well, that’s good to know.” His brow arches, watching something glimmer in your eyes. “Because you have quite an impressive shirt collection, and guess what I like?”

Tracing his bottom lip with his thumb, he tries to stop himself from tracing his eyes up and down you. Hearing people come in, the office slowly springs to life behind you. 

“What’s that, cariño?” 

You lean forward, allowing you to drop your voice. “Knowing to take it back, you’ll have to take it off of me—once I get to yours, tonight, that is,” you whisper, soft and breathy, a hint of silk to each of your words as they slide into his ears. “Have a good day, sir.” 

Failure was something he was being served more and more frequently.

This time, it was dealt to him when he’d allowed a part of himself to relax—to feel like they were close to a win—having gone from panicked to relieved when he felt Jurado’s wife against him.

Her all curled up, trembling. The scent of mud, sweat and something he assumed had once been perfume rotted into his nose as the jungle faded from view. 

It’s why he allowed her the comfort she so desperately needed, giving himself the chance to feel the joy that he had managed to fix the mess he’d caused by not thinking of every single option. 

Then, like grey clouds holding back her storm, there was a clap of thunder—Christina's eyes were then full of sorrow and fury, digging into him as though they were made of knives. Yet, it had been her words that did the slicing. 

It hadn’t meant a damn thing, not accounting for a single thing. All of it, from listening in on her and Jurado to now, a giant waste of fucking time. The phone call confirmed it.

He was dead. All that chasing, the jungle—

Javi had intended to cool down before he headed back to the office. It had all boiled inside of him, unable to think straight, that was until his eyes landed on you. 

Finding you at your usual spot, bent over, the low light making you squint. Your head lifts to glance at your screen before back down to the files on your desk, fingers rubbing at that spot on the side of your forehead—your tick, your tell. 

Then you lean back, hand brushing over your face before landing your eyes on him. At first, he watches you relax, relief flooding your expression—likely due to the fact that he’s safe. You'd been forthcoming with how much you'd been worrying.

Then, a smile. One that is quickly swallowed by concern. It amazes him how quick and astute you are—lifting yourself, grabbing something without taking your eyes off him as he approaches, nodding to Stoddard as you clear your throat. 

“Could—can I talk to you about a lead?” 

He nods, swallowing. He gestures for you to lead the way as he follows you into his office. It isn’t until the door closes, wrapping his arm across himself and playing with his other elbow, does he see you throw the file on the desk. 

“There’s no lead. I just… you looked like you needed to talk.” 

It's instant, the way he softens. Looking down, letting himself feel the calming wave you cast over him without knowing you even do it. 

The airport. The jungle. The call. 

He’s not even sure where to begin.

“She thinks I’m a piece of shit. That’s… that’s what she called me.”

Slowly, you move to the mini-table-turned-bar as you pour a glass—one for you, one for him.

“And maybe, I am…” You extend the glass, his hand taking it as he nods, running his thumb over the top. “I mean, I get tunnel vision—and I just have to….” 

He sighs, feeling you watching him, before it all comes out.

From the moment they reached the jungle to the airport. Your eyes not leaving him, likely seeing how easy it is for him to undo—how he’s coming apart, crumbling, pieces of him snapping off. The words keep coming and coming, the stress releasing a hold on his chest but doubling on his shoulders simultaneously.

It isn’t until he’s done, your silence, thick and loaded, does he even feel he needs to ask:  

“Y'agree with her?”

He has to ask, watching as you undo the thought. 

Studying your expression as he coats his tongue and lips in deep amber and misery. He used to drink to celebrate. Somewhere between Colombian takedowns and Escobar, it began as a way to stop himself thinking. Now, he’s unsure if it calms him, deafens things or just numbs him—or better, a concoction of the two. 

You lean against the wall, wrestling with your thoughts. He can see it—the thin line that appears between your brow and the way your fingers dance along the crystal glass. 

“I can… see why she’d think you were one.”

He takes a large sip, raising his brow. “Well... fuck, thanks.”

“You don’t—this doesn't work because I lie to you. We work because I’m great at feeding that self-deprecation you’re carrying around.” 

He smirks, snorting into the glass as he watches you take your first sip. Not hissing or scrunching—sipping it like it’s water. Suspiciously so.

He hears you step forward, closing the gap, placing your hand on his shoulder, nudging him to turn entirely towards you. “You’re a good person. The only time you’re a piece of shit is when you don’t do that thing with your tongue to me. She's hurt, Javi. Understandably, so.” 

He smiles, and you brush the sides of it with your thumb. 

Because he knows he’s experienced in non-committal fucking. Well-versed, almost excelling at it, until you. You who he wants the opinion of, the person who makes his world splinter and crack in the best way—more so when you dig your nails in, and he paints your walls in ropes of white. You are different. 

He's thought it since the beginning, when you barged in, all confident and smug. Now, it’s so much harder to ignore, to bury—to smother in other problems and issues. 

All of the realisation snapping inside of him, the walls he’s built coming down with ease, as your palm remains on his cheek—all intimate and full of care. 

“Starting to think you like me.”

“Get rid of that thought, sir. I merely tolerate you.”

“Liar.”

You blink, dropping your hand.

Holding your eyes steady, Javi lets the seconds add up, sliding into a minute. The air tightens with understanding as it rises like a slow tide threatening to pull you both under and drown you. Realisation twists and gnaws in your chest, not able to blink, not able to turn. 

He sighs, knowing it too. Releasing you, watching your head tilt before you roll your eyes, and then you’re moving to close the blinds—the office slowly fading from view before you approach the last turning so all he can see is you.

You who is looking at him with a mixed expression he hasn’t got the energy to decipher. Thoughts, suspicions, all rolling around his head, mixing horribly with the expression of Christina Jurado staring at him as he ended that call. 

“You do matter to me.” 

“Tell me you like me, baby,” he says, likely knowing that you're struggling for breath. 

Him doing the unspeakable—making a move, so off the board, he’s confirming neither of you is playing. Likely haven’t been for weeks. The signs were all there if you really looked, really focused on it. 

You smirk, shaking your head as you step back. “I like you, you know I do.” 

Hand slowly spinning the glass in your hand as you sink into the chair opposite his desk. Eyes staring into it, the amber sloshing from side to side. 

“I just…”

“Cariño…” your eyes look up, meeting him. “It’s different for me too.” 

You nod, biting the inside of your mouth as you rest your head on your palm—elbow digging into the arm of the chair. 

“What now?”

“What do you mean?” 

You scoff. “Well, do we stop?”

“Do you want to stop?”

“I want you to answer a goddamn question without asking another question. Because this is humiliating as it is.” 

“Having feelings for me that bad, huh?”

You smile, barely—but he notices it. “No. But, I—I’m not good at it—being with someone. Being in a relationship. I'll fuck up. I’m broken and…. without even fucking meaning to I'll—”

Sighing, he swallows. “Bonita… I don’t care.” His hand grips your cheek, tilting your eyes up to him. “I’m no good either. You deserve—fuck, you deserve far better than me, but I’m selfish, a piece of shit. So, I can’t let you go, so let's just call this what it is.” 

“You don’t know—“

“I do, cariño. I do.” 

Your eyes fill with tears, staring at him, unsure if you’re going to agree or push him away. That is, until your hand comes over his wrist, holding him—just like you usually do. 

Then, you turn him, so his frame hides you. Your lips press to his, kissing him as though you didn’t care. The two of you are now experts with both your tongues than words—able to articulate full-blown sentences with your mouths pressed against each other. 

Now, you're in his arms after all the sheer determination—after doing nothing but fighting him. The low light from the lamp casts a soft glow over you both, offering comfort, hiding how everything else around the two of you is burning. 

“I hate how good your cock is.”

He laughs, pressing his forehead against yours. “Yeah, I can see how that would be a problem.”

Strumming his fingers up and down your side, he smiles against the top of your hair. Letting the moment settle, the confessions being filed in a happy place in his mind. 

“Are you okay?”

“Now?” he asks, fingers toying with your hip. “I’m better.” 

For a moment, he just watches—takes you in. 

It goes back to the night in the bar when half of your face had been shrouded in mystery, and the two of you had gotten off on the wrong foot. If Murphy were here, he’d say it was typical Peña—somehow managing to fuck the woman who hates him. 

But then, you’d never really hated him, just like he hadn’t really ever found you difficult. 

“Let's sit,” you say, joining him on the sofa, the leather creaking under you. 

The silence is an odd comfort—so used to cracking under quiet, yet with you, he settles. 

No one to disturb it, the peace. No one was ringing or asking for him. 

Even the office outside has gone quiet. 

That one thought, which has been hammering and hammering, rises—bubbling at the top of the sea of shit he has to undo, answer for and deal with. 

“If you weren’t doing this, what would you be doing?”

It’s likely too deep for such a day. Knowing he should take the win that the two of you have agreed to be something more concrete than convenient fucking, but it falls from his tongue quicker than he can say I’m okay or let’s go. 

You think, eyes sliding to the corner as an array of expressions flash across your face. A frown to a relaxed smile, a shift of your lips to a soft sigh. 

“Not sure. Maybe run a coffee shop? A cafe. Want it to be a local place, lots of gossip.”

Watching you lick your lips, he lets himself take you in. A mental photo snapped, locked away in the vault he’s drafted just for you. 

“One of those places where either the coffee is good, but the cakes are bad, or the cakes are good, but the coffee is bad. Because I’m one person, y’know? I’m not fucking superwoman.” 

His fingers tease the edges of yours—wanting to keep you here, in this moment. Not step back out into the sound of phone calls and typing.  

“There would be this will-they-won’t-they with a local guy. He’d come in, and everyone would study our interactions and gossip about how long he stood at the counter.”

Smirking, you turn your head, confronting him with a wicked smile—a sight that makes his heart beat. 

“What about you?” 

Shrugging, he laces his fingers in yours. “Probably be on the ranch. With my dad. Helping. Do the good son thing, for a bit at least.” 

“Well, you can only do the good son thing if you’re good.”

Nudging you with his knee, he shakes his head. “Hey. I’m a fine, good rancher.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

He sneers. “Come see it, baby. I’ll show you all my moves.” 

You smile, and like this—after today—it’s something more stunning than he can find the words for. Not sure he’d ever be able to describe it, what it does to him—how it feels like an arrow has been shot into his chest, inflating his heart, making it grow twice as big. 

Licking his lips, he smiles wider—almost allowing it to spread to his eyes. “You open your cafe in my town. We’d be the talk of it.” 

“Because you already tried the buns.” 

“First thing I’d talk up.”

You laugh. Sweet and weightless. It flushes through him, easing the stress from his muscles. Basking in it, the momentary pause on the job, the mission—the reason. 

“I’d make sure a Catrina or a Mary would have overheard me telling people you’re good with a whip. Let them gossip.” 

“Oh, there’s actually three Marys, and I’m sure there’s at least two Catrinas.” 

Shrugging, you wink. “See, I’m fitting in already.” 

“Texas would love you.” 

“Texas would be quaking in its cowboy boots.”

“That too.” 

The two of you go silent.

All comfortable and nice. No thoughts rushing through him, no darkness ebbing in the corners—it’s like it is in the mornings. Where he can pretend the world outside isn’t Colombia but Texas. That his responsibilities are to make you smile and make sure a cow doesn’t crush his pop. 

You tap your fingers over his. “You okay?” 

“I don’t even fucking know.” 

“It’s okay if you’re not.” 

Turning his head, he meets your eyes, a little smile so effortlessly falling over your face. “I know.”

He moves, shifting so he’s closer, and you subconsciously move closer, letting your head find his shoulder as you take a deeper breath. 

“We could. I could.” 

You slowly look up at him, watching him stare off before glancing down. 

“It's not a lot, but you could make lemonade, and I could help my Pops do ranch shit. Live out our days in the field and between one another’s thighs.” 

“You’d get bored…”

“Of you?” he asks, shaking his head. “Never. I’m never tired of you, not even when you’re frustrating and annoying.” 

“You crave danger, Peña.”

He moves you closer, wrapping his arm around you to pin you close, dropping his mouth to your ear. “Guess we’ll have to begin fucking outdoors, see how far we go until we’re arrested for public indecency.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” 

His hand slides up your forearm, spreading warmth back through you. 

“Think about it, cariño. Yeah?” 

You swallow, nodding. “Would you wear a cowboy hat?”

He laughs, rich, light. “For you? Yeah.”

“Alright, I’ll think about it, sir.” 

It’s you who interlocks your fingers with his, squeezing—like a version of a signature on a contract. 

“I didn’t ask. How’s your day been?” 

You snort, not moving—not even to look up or find his eyes, thumb sliding over his hand. “Why?”

“You always hiss when you first have a sip of whiskey. You didn’t earlier.” 

Then you move—eyes finding his, something in them he can’t read—a look he can’t place. Your own moving from one eye to the other as you swallow. 

“I may have helped myself to a glass… or two.” 

Placing his fingers under your chin, he lifts your face. “Talk to me.” 

“Just a bad day, that’s all.” 

“Cariño.” 

Rolling your lips, you sigh. “Can we just go home?” 

Nodding, he drops his hand from his nose, taking the glance balancing precariously on his knee as he drains it. It’s only when he feels the loss of you, hearing you mumble about getting your coat—and your bag, that you need to nip to a store on the way—does it come back to him. 

Home. 

You’d said home. 

Not his place. Not your place. 

His teeth bite down on the inside of his cheek, the softest twitch of his lips. One, that on another day, where it hadn’t felt like a complete fuck up, he suspects would be a smile, a real one. 

Fingers tap on your desk—hands you used to know, once upon a time. Lifting your chin, you stare at him. Chris. 

His face was all a mixture of annoyance and pleading, a sight you suspected didn’t mean good things for you. 

“You thought about it? Helping me.”

Your fingers pause on the keys. “If it involves me leaving this building, there best be a good reason you’ve even brought this to me. The shit I could get into—”

“I wouldn’t ask.”

You tilt your head. “Yes, you would.” 

“It’s for Van Ness, too.” 

Narrowing your eyes, you slowly stand. “We need a meeting room or a quiet space. I need—I need what you have. Photo, information.”

Chris nods, furiously so. “So, you in?”

Your head turns, glancing at the empty office—the one you’ve been staring at the entire time he’s been out of it. “I’m in for the debrief. That’s all I’m committing to for now.” 

AN: hope it was worth it!

#javier peña x reader #javier peña #javier peña narcos #javi peña x reader #javi peña x you #javi pena #javier peña x you #narcos x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #narcos javier x reader #narcos javier #narcos fanfiction #javier pena narcos #mm: nowhere to run #jp nowhere to run #nowhere to run update #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal narcos #pedrostories

[growingnerves]

I saw the teaser and it got me thinking…

It’s not some mysterious happenstance that lead to Melissa McBride appearing on our screens again. She’s still around in TWDU because she is responsible for so many of the most iconic, rewatchable and deeply engaging moments and that isn’t easily forgotten among fans. We will always want her here so we can continue the story with Caryl as a united pair. And much as I share in the enthusiasm over how powerful her presence is, that alone isn’t enough! The quality of their story together still matters to us. The generic “thrills” aren’t working. I’m sure Melissa wants quality material to dive into as much as the fans do. She considers us in a way that others working on this spin-off will not. However, the fans will always be an objectively important aspect to the show’s ongoing success or failure. After all, who’s going to be watching?

It can be hard to believe our voices are being heard after countless disappointments, cruel shipbaity manipulations and needless retconning; it has often felt like we haven’t been valued. But the more we speak up about our expectations, the greater chance we have of getting them met. I don’t want past missteps to discourage us to the point of accepting something merely “inoffensive.” Let’s think of what this spin-off could be!

Nothing in those promos is engaging me on a meaningful level and this far along into a story, that shouldn’t be a difficult task. We need to see major changes going forward, especially with the writing. The title alone is unacceptable, and even if I could accept it (which I can’t!), “acceptable” isn’t enough. Once whatever future we get for Carol and Daryl is on our screens, it can’t be undone. Once it’s been decided, we will have to live with it forever. So now is the time to have the highest of expectations and demands. Nothing is set in stone yet! Now is a better time than any to pour our energy into advocating for what we want to see. I’d rather be criticizing the show now rather than once it’s been irreversibly ruined by the current showrunner (Zabel). We know we are going to see Caryl together again, that is our only guarantee atp. Which version of the spin-off we get, could still change, especially going into S3! We don’t have to settle for a lesser version of what should be OUR show.

Our dedication should be rewarded with something to look forward to, not something that causes dread. The dread of further disappointment is what drove viewers away. It burned me out to the point I never finished watching S11 of TWD. I didn’t tune in for the initial season of the spin-off because omitting Carol was the most nonsense decision imaginable. The only thing that would make me consider returning is a storyline worth my time. Because boy do I get invested when I give a damn. Imagine getting a story with actual stakes and payoff. Something a little more captivating than watching two friends suffering through seasons more of the apocalypse.

The purpose of reuniting these two is to profit on their unmatched bond and chemistry. They are capable of anything when they are together and taking their relationship to the next level would open up so many new possibilities storywise. Give us something fresh tonally. Let the relationship develop naturally into something romantic as it always should have been. That’s what’s going to get people talking and clamoring for more. That’s what’s going to get word to reach those who left. Seeing a middle aged couple headlining a series is groundbreaking tv and that representation alone could bring in loads of new eyes and reinvigorate online discussion.

What show are they trying to sell me based on the brief window into S2 with tonight’s promos? Caryl’s relationship isn’t the centerpiece here. What I saw was an attempt to catch my attention with repetitive action sequences. There’s nothing original about shootouts and car crashes and distractingly bad looking CGI blood and verbal cliches. Carol interacted with Daryl’s props? That’s the best you can give me? The unique draw this show has, that makes the appeal one of a kind, is Carol and Daryl played by Melissa and Norman. That’s an absolute narrative goldmine and something no other show on tv can claim. I’m echoing so many other fans when I say this. We are able to see the potential for greatness. An emotionally intimate slow burn relationship built over many years will always have within it a vast, complex narrative to explore that new characters cannot bring to the table. AMC has a rare gift in their hands. Continued success of the franchise hinges on the network making the right call when it comes to this duo. That’s where the attention should go. That’s the tease I was looking for tonight. That’s the upcoming payoff that would win back my trust and viewership. I want to see something I can feel passionate about again. We understand these characters aren’t learning to navigate the world without each other. They are fighting to stay alive so that they can be together again and realize their relationship in a way that is new. Caryl’s history runs deep and they couldn’t give us a single emotional beat to grasp onto in the promo- that’s how I’m feeling right now.

Side note cause I can’t help myself but I know I’m not the only one who noticed that Melissa McBride is a total smokeshow in that teaser. It’s not an obscure observation by any means haha. She looked goddamn amazing and badass and well, fucking hot 🥵 It is an undeniable privilege to see this woman on our screens again.

#caryl #the book of carol #caryl spinoff #melissa mcbride #carylers #bitching at 4AM 💅🏻

[ghostofskywalker]

Forever Is The Sweetest Con

Wanda Maximoff/Reader

Words: 933

Summary: You may have had some tricks up your sleeve, but so did she, and soon you were forced to confront the truth behind your time together.

taylorswiftbingo square (and recommended listening for this fic): cowboy like me

Note: since evermore is my favorite of taylor's albums i was so excited to write this, i hope i've done the vibes of the song justice :)

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist

At first, it was a means to an end.

The two of you met in a shady dive bar, each with your own agenda and an aura of indifference. It was clear that she, just like you, was a professional who did not bother with the trivial intimacies of life, and was instead focused on the greater plan. And you admired that. A long time ago you had attempted to take advantage of every single path one could take in life, but the unfortunate reality of the job you worked became more clear, forcing you to step back.

You never wanted to fall in love.

Cryptic words and backdoor deals characterized the time you spent together. Although you often worked towards the same goal, you knew that she had never been completely open and honest with you, and you had acted the same way in return. There was too much to lose if it all went wrong, and as beautiful as she was, you had to make sure you were able to disappear at a moment’s notice.

For a while, the arrangement seemed to work out.

There was something to be said about the loneliness of the life you lived, and even though you never had long, meaningful conversations about the things that happened to you, the feeling of her skin against yours did wonders to ease some of that ache. Physically, you often felt as though the two of you were joined as one, and each night you spent with her was filled with panting moans, breathless whines, and whispered ecstasies. Even if all you knew was her first name.

You could tell that she was running from her past the same way you were running from yours.

Your time together was almost simpler than the rest of your life, because for a few hours you could forget the mounting dread you felt and lose yourself in the smell of her hair. Even when you worked jobs with her, you always played the role of a decoy, flirting with whoever Wanda needed you to or providing an out to any conversation she wanted to escape. You learned that she was a phenomenal dancer, and the two of you twirled together across dance floors at clubs you could never afford to be members of, ignorantly content in the way that you lived.

The thrill of caring about someone else, especially when you had previously convinced yourself that it was completely impossible, was addictive. You could feel yourself losing the ambition that had previously ruled your days. All your thoughts revolved around Wanda, when you were going to see her next, what you wanted to say to her, what you wanted to do with her.

You never talked about it with her, but you began to put resources away. A goal formed in your mind: to make enough that you could leave behind your life of crime, that for the first time in over a decade you could settle somewhere, with her. But of course, things soon came crumbling down.

She always stayed the full night when you saw each other, you always woke up curled in each others’ arms, laying there as the light of the rising sun crept in through the cracks in the blinds. But this morning, when you opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep from them, the bed next to you was empty.

No noise crept through the walls, the apartment as quiet as it would be during the dead of night. The black heels she always wore when you worked together were not in their spot, the space next to your standing mirror glaringly empty. And finally, the space where Wanda always slept was cold, even though the sheets were still rumpled. It all pointed to a conclusion that you didn’t want to accept, because you wanted to continue to live in delusion.

The final nail in the coffin came when you saw the note on the table, and your heart fell to the floor as you recognized her beautiful scrawling handwriting.

My darling,

I hope you can one day forgive me for this. I can wholeheartedly say that I have cherished every moment we spent together, but you should have known that it could never last. We are two unshakable forces, and it doesn’t seem fair to snuff out our flame, but it would only lead to more destruction.

Please don’t try to find me, it would only reopen wounds we’ve both worked so hard to heal.

Wanda

The feeling of crushing hopelessness hit you square in the chest, and there was truly no way you could pretend things were different now.

And to make matters worse, she had drained all your money, stolen every penny she thought you had. All that was left was the secret stash you had put away, with every intention of using it to build your life together. Now, you were forced to spend those hopes and dreams, to confront the reality of your situation by moving forward in your life all alone. That in itself hurt more than if you found out she had truly taken every single cent you had.

But through all that, you still cared for her, even if you dreamed of enacting revenge and making her hurt in the same way.

And maybe one day you could forgive her, like her letter suggested, but for now you were content in trying to forget.

It was stupid, the way you believed that you could love in a life like this, but you had certainly learned your lesson now. 

- the end -

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#ghostofskywalker.fictober #taylorswiftbingo #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff fanfiction #wanda x reader #wanda x you #marvel fanfiction #marvel x reader

[esteemed-excellency]

Third Time's the Charm

(Writing sappy oc x canon romance wasn't on my life bingo but I'm having so much fun with my blorbos so here's a ficlet, enjoy! Word count: 947 words)

"I love you." he admits, reluctantly. One final note hangs in the air as she stops playing, until the parlour falls silent. They're sitting together at the piano, shoulder to shoulder, looking at the keyboard, both with their own reasons to avert their eyes from the other. He didn't plan for this to happen, not the love nor the confession, but she must know by now. "Unconditionally?" she teases softly. He leaves the question unanswered, a late echo of the last note. "Unapologetically?" The air grows warm as she caresses the keys, weaving a silent melody. "I would do anything for you." She must know this too. He would do anything she asks of him. He would do anything to spend more time with her, to keep her from slipping away. He's not sure she knows about this last part. The soundless melody halts. "And what exactly would you do?" She asks, still looking at the keys. He knows what she's asking for, and he complies with her dance of unspoken wishes, reprising the melody from where she left it, gently tapping the keys. "What exactly would you want me to do, my dear?" He tries to match her playful tone, but she stops the dance, grabbing his wrist with a movement too sudden for his perception. "Anything?" she asks again, sharply this time, tilting his chin up to study his sincerity, drawing him in her gaze. The air grows hot. Her hands scald his wrist and his face. He hates to burn, he remembers far too well how that feels, but for her he would burn a thousand times over. He didn't plan for this to happen, and yet. "Anything." he confirms. She stares at him unblinkingly, looking for something deep under his skin, something to draw out, to snatch away, before returning her attention to the piano, charring the keys under her fingers. Her touch lingers on his face, sweetly, achingly. "I love you too", she lies. He knows, of course, but it doesn't change anything. She just needs to ask.

﹏﹏﹏

"I love you." she says, surprised by her own words. She wonders if this is how he felt. She wonders how much he's still able to feel. The bustling chatter of Dante's regulars covers their conversation from indiscreet ears. She likes to bask in the sound, savouring the anonymously alive hum of a busy day. "You do." She can't tell if he means it as a question or an affirmation. She's not sure he cares about the distinction anymore. He swirls the wine in his glass, absentmindedly following its motion. "I do." Her words are not a question, and not an affirmation. They are both, and they are more, and they just Are. She can make things Be, she can dance Meanings into Laws, but sometimes she prefers her words to be meaningful and relevant all by themselves. "Unapologetically?" He sounds bored. "Unconditionally?" the reiteration clarifies his questioning intent, allowing her to recall a familiar rhythm. "I would do anything for you." The hum envelops their table and her answer melds with it like honey. He takes a good look at her. A good long look. The hum grows wrong, and she doesn't like it anymore. Two leitmotifs overlap unpleasantly in her head as the clamouring uproar of the Season of Revolutions overwhelmes the present, making her queasy. He taps the glass, distractedly. She follows the clear vibrations through the dissonance, until the noise goes back to its right place in her memories. "Anything, my dear?" he asks. He never notices the noise, he just causes it to Be. But she can dance around it. "I will keep you with me forever." He smiles at her last word, with a genuine mirthful laugh. "Well, I'll simply have to remember to stick around for all that time, then!" She tries to figure out how deep the Meaning goes, but something in his voice doesn't fit his smile. It happens so often now. He reaches for her hand on the table, sweetly, coldly. "I love you too", he lies. She knows, of course, but it doesn't change anything. He can't get away, and he will always remember.

﹏﹏﹏

There's a bouquet on the Deviless' bedside table, wrapped with care in a silky ribbon. The flowers wither from time to time, from year to year, from decade to decade. She never buys them, and she never needs to ask for fresh ones, the replacements are always delivered at the right time. She likes to think it's always been the same bouquet, perpetually reaffirming its Meaning. Promises and declarations renewed forever through a cadence of petals. Love returned, declares the ambrosia. Immortal, unfading love, promises the amaranth.

There's a record that shouldn't exist yet in Hiram's library. It's not the only anachronistical item in his collection, but it's the first that was gifted to him, meticulously wrapped in a silky ribbon. "I'd like to lock you in my heart, dear, and then lose the key" goes the song. The record spins and spins. He often wonders what would happen if he were to inscribe Correspondence on it. Nothing too convoluted, one sigil only, to reciprocate the gift. A declaration and a promise. The sigil would spin and spin, perpetually reiterating its Meaning at seventy-eight revolutions per minute.

Thou art all that is lovely, says the austrian rose. "Just a little closer, dear" says the song. The ribbon wasn't originally wrapping the bouquet, nor the record, but its Meaning remains undeniably true. A gift always reciprocated from time to time, from year to year, from decade to decade. I love you, it says, over and over again, unconditionally, unapologetically.

Notes:

The flowers quotes are from these victorian books on the language of flowers

The song is Just a Little Closer by Ruth Etting (1930)

#I wrote this for the feast of the rose but I never edited it #until now >:) #I'm not a pro writer but this turned out nice so I'm sharing the brainrot #fallen london #my writing #hiram hargrave #the quiet deviless #hiram x deviless #cw burns #(<- nothing explicitly horror but just in case. you know how it is if you hold hands with the devils)

[v1smokewife]

who is this person - chapter eleven - final chapter

On a quest to find love on a dating website, Sanji falls head over heels for a woman with an interest in...alternative relationships that sends him down a rabbit hole of completing tasks for a seemingly sadistic mistress. But what happens when she turns out to be more than what she seems?

or

Zoro pretends to be a female on the internet to talk to Sanji and bad things happen.

Darkfic with themes of internalised homophobia, bad bdsm practices and lying about your identity to strangers on the internet. Please read with caution. This is NOT how BSDM should be practiced. Always practice Sane, Safe and Consensual practicesboarders on being considered dead dove do not eat material

read on ao3

authors note;

WE ARE FINALLY FINISHED. oh my goodness!! i can't believe I'm finally done!! this means so much to me. first of all, thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos. i'm so bad for not replying to them but i really do appreciate every single comment and kudo i get. thank you for the love <3 there's plenty of stories planned for 2024. once I finish i need a doctor, i will probably start releasing the sequel as i will be starting to write it now <3

S POV  

A FEW MONTHS LATER  

Time was what Sanji got in return. He hadn't seen Zoro for a few months and Zoro kept to their conversations. Even when Luffy came over to the restaurant, Zoro was never in tow as he normally was. At first, Sanji never paid more mind to it. Obviously, Sanji had told him that he needed time and that he did. He needed time to get over what had happened to him and process things a bit more than he had previously. After a while, Sanji felt like things were sort of returning to normal. He was back working at the restaurant and things had gotten a tad better. Himself and Nami were still best friends, and he quickly forgave her for what had happened. It was forgive and forget. Things were back to normal, almost. 

He never saw Zoro and come to think of it, no one else did. When Luffy would come to the Baratie, he would often lament about how Zoro has no time for him anymore and how he misses him. When Sanji said he needed time, he really did need that time, but it was a little weird for Zoro to just completely distance himself from everyone. What a pain that was. Although, Sanji didn’t know why he felt bad about that because after all it was him that suffered the most through the whole thing.  

It was something that still kept him up at night and he probably would be traumatised for the rest of his life but… 

He had time to think about what Zoro said and now he needed to talk to him again. Sanji was finishing work. He had been given the evening off. Zeff, in his own way had become a little bit more gracious with the working hours and letting Sanji work better hours and not always closing up for him. Although Zeff never said it, it seemed as if he must have felt bad for what happened. 

Something just felt amiss. Sanji wanted to talk to Zoro again. 

Sanji’s decision was to try and reach out again. Space and time gave him the opportunity to think about things but there was a sense of unfinished business because their last conversation gave him so much more questions rather than answers.  He wasn’t sure how to approach this He could call or text…it was awful, but he still had his number from when they used to text each other during the Zoey days, and he never got rid of his number. However, phoning and texting had got them into this mess so he needed to have a much more direct conversation that would be a lot more meaningful.  

After much thoughts, Sanji decided that he would try and approach the gym that Zoro tended to frequent. It was a place that Sanji knew from Nami that Zoro liked to go when he needed some time to think. As Sanji was walking towards the gym, his mind was starting to feel like a whirlwind. Although he knew that he was the one that suffered the most in this, Sanji couldn’t help but wonder how Zoro had been. How would he react to Sanji just turning up to his gym out of the blue. There was a mixture of apprehension and curiosity in his stomach that was almost making him feel sick.  

Once he arrived at the gym, Sanji took a moment to stop at the entrance. He took a deep breath before stepping inside. The sound of training filled the air as he stepped inside the gym. Ahead of him, right past the empty reception, Sanji could see Zoro training with a wooden sword in an empty hall.  

The thud of his feet on the mat, the clank of the wooden sword against the training dummy and the controlled breaths. Zoro seemed to be in his element here. Sanji stood at the hallway leaning against the frame and watching him. Every turn and every muscle that moved. It was…. hypnotising. He didn’t realise that he was staring until Zoro noticed a presence in the room. He paused and turned. His expression changed from concentration to…surprise and Sanji realised that he was staring at Zoro working out. Holy shit. Why? 

“You?” Zoro said with a mix of uncertainty and…confusion. 

Sanji didn’t really know what to say but he cleared his throat and stepped in the room, “I…just wanted to see what you’ve been up to recently. You’ve disappeared entirely,” God this felt so awkward. Sanji needed a smoke, and he needed one bad.  

“You said you wanted time. I’ve been giving you that,” Zoro said as he placed the wooden sword on the ground. 

“Hm. First time you’ve ever listened to me in the history of ever,” Sanji said as he stepped forward a bit more. Sanji was a little uncertain about what was going on. He was unsure of how to approach this.  

Zoro raised an eyebrow at Sanji’s comments with a hint of defensive humour, “Well I figured that it was important. You said so yourself. You wanted space. I respected that and gave you space. You aren’t giving me shit for giving you space, are you?” 

There was a minute between them with such a mix of emotions. Curiosity, tension was all the emotions that were going on right now. It was clear that they both had a lot on their mind. Thoughts and questions simmering below the surface.  

Sanji shifted his weight. God, he absolutely NEEDED a cigarette. He looked around the gym before setting his gaze back onto Zoro, “Yeah. You are right. I’m not going to give you shit for that. I did need time,” 

Zoro nodded, he was willing to engage in conversation. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about it to. If you…don’t mind waiting for me to finish up here, we can talk outside…or go somewhere else,” 

Sanji nodded, “My apartment is not far away. We can go there…It’s quiet,” 

Zoro and Sanji agreed that would be right for them to go there. Sanji went to go and wait outside of the gym where he got his much needed cigarette. He stepped out of the gym and the fresh air was a much needed welcome. He lit up his cigarette and took a drag of it. His mind was racing with what he wanted to say to Zoro. The questions he wanted to ask him.  

After a few moments, Zoro appeared from the gym, having quickly changed out of his gear. They walked in pretty much silence back to Sanji’s apartment. It was starting to get late and as they appeared, Sanji could see that the Baratie was starting to quiet down for the evening. However, Sanji directed Zoro upstairs into his apartment. He never really invited much people upstairs. In fact, he can’t even remember the last time Nami came over.  

He offered Zoro a seat and a drink. Zoro, as per expected, wanted alcohol. Sanji indulged him with a beer while Sanji poured himself a glass of wine. He sat on the sofa with Zoro on the furthest side. 

Sanji decided that he didn’t want to sit in silence he decided he would take the lead and he would talk. 

“Zoro…I’ve been thinking about what we spoke about last time,” Sanji decided that since it was his own apartment, he would have another cigarette as he lit it up and took a drag, “I’m not gonna lie. I’ve had time to think about things and well, what you did really messed me up. But…we both got involved in something really…complicated. 

Zoro, who was swirling his beer around as he listened intently about what Sanji had to say but he didn’t interject. He knew what Sanji was talking about. When Zoro admitted having feelings. So, Sanji continued talking as he ran a hand through his hair. 

“I guess what I’m trying to get at is…I want to understand. Not just about what happened. I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand but what about us? Where do we stand?” 

Zoro set his beer down and he turned his head to look at Sanji. The question…it was direct and to the point. It was now cutting to the heart of their tangled history. The future was so uncertain, “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. This is…complicated,” 

Sanji exhaled a cloud of smoke, and his expression was contemplative, “This…we’ve always been complicated, Zoro. Fights, arguments, a rivalry and now…this. Whatever this has been. He gestured between them, a vague gesture of their encompassing existence between them. 

Zoro leaned back slightly, “It’s…complicated but…I meant what I said…” He didn’t need to elaborate or repeat what he said. Sanji and them both knew what he said. He admitted feelings and Sanji… felt incredibly conflicted right now. 

Sanji’s eyes flickered with a mix of different emotions. Surprise, uncertainty and perhaps…something new. Something softer. Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was the time that he was allowed to have but he thought about it more, “Work through this mess…” He took another drag of his cigarette and took the time to consider Zoro’s words, “I…don’t think I can just forget about what happened. 

“I’m not asking you to forget about anything,” Zoro said, and Sanji could swear he was closer to him than before, “All I’m wondering is that…do you think we could have an existence where we tolerate each other more than we do?” 

“Tolerate?” Sanji deflected with humour, “I don’t think I could ever want to not fight with you, moss man,” 

Zoro cracked a smile at that use of his usual descriptor. Their usual banter beginning to resurface yet again, “I don’t expect anything less. I was just thinking that there is also room for other things other than tolerating each other and fighting,” 

Sanji took a moment, looking at his glass of wine before meeting Zoro’s gaze again, “The whole thing with Zoey…it was a mess…but it has also changed my perspective on things. I see you differently,”  

That admission hung in the air. It was a new and delicate thread in the complex fabric of their brand new relationship. A direction that neither of them thought that this would go in.  

When Sanji moves to look at Zoro, he was caught off guard when Zoro took a hold of the collar of his shirt and leaned forward to…well, kiss him. 

And holy shit did that catch Sanji off guard. The kiss was so sudden and unexpected. A bold and what seemed like a really desperate move by Zoro. Like he couldn’t just help himself.  

Sanji was taken aback. He was surprised. He was confused but he felt something. Something that he had never felt before. Of course, he had kissed plenty of women, but he had never had ever kissed a man. 

Kissing a man. That’s something he never thought he’d ever do and yet he was here, and Zoro kissed him.  

Huh. Why wasn’t he pulling away? 

As Zoro pulled back. There was a sense of questioning in his eyes. An intensity that Sanji wasn’t expecting as Zoro tried to gauge Sanji’s reaction to see if he had crossed a line, but Sanji just sat there for a moment, processing what had just happened. The kiss had been brief but…it made Sanji think. 

“…That wasn’t too forward, was it?” Zoro’s head tilted a little to gauge his reaction. 

There was a rush of emotions and the unexpected turn of events. The pads of his fingers touched his own lips in response. The intensity of Zoro’s gaze was met by Sanji’s own, and it was…confused.  

“It…no…not too forward,” Sanji rubbed the back of his neck. The tone of his voice was thick with realisation, “This…it just caught me off guard…that’s all,” 

There was a moment of silence where they both sat with the significance of Zoro’s kiss. It was a bold step. A physical manifestation of all the complex emotions. 

Sanji leaned back, his mind racing. Zoro watched him. 

“Was it bad?” Zoro asked and Sanji looked at him. 

“What? No? It wasn’t…It’s just really complicated,” Sanji felt flustered by Zoro kissing him and didn’t want to show it, but he was…terrible at that. Zoro watched him and then... 

“Ooooh….it was really good, and you don’t want to admit it,” There it was. Ther usual banter was back again, and Zoro was teasing him about something. 

Sanji shot him a look. A look of annoyance and a very reluctant smile playing on his lips, “Shut up, mosshead. Don’t get cocky. You kissed me once,” 

“But you’re blushing now…you enjoyed it… you liked being kissed,” 

“I swear if you don’t shut up I will- “  

Sanji didn’t know what came over him. Maybe it was the fact that Zoro was annoying him by being cocky or if it was the affect the kiss had on him, but it was his turn now. Sanji grabbed the collar of Zoro’s shirt this time and pulled him into a kiss of his own. This time, it was a little more aggressive and more…passionate than before which shocked both of them entirely. The sudden reversal of roles, with Sanji being the forward one added a brand new intensity to what was going on. This kiss was charged with emotion.  

That feeling…Sanji felt that feeling when he spoke to Zoey. When Zoey would make him do things and take videos and pictures... it was that feeling he felt kissing Zoro. It was the same arousal.  Sanji didn’t want to pull away because of it but he needed to pull away to breath but only inches away from Zoro’s lips. 

Zoro looked at Sanji with surprise but once that settled, a small smirk appeared on his face as he whispered against his lips, “Hmmm…didn’t know you had it in you, cook,” His usual teasing taking on a new tone. One that was equally aroused and very dominant. 

Christ. 

Sanji, caught in all of that, whispered back, “Don’t underestimate me, moss head. I’m full of surprises,”  

Zoro could only chuckle but not for long because they were back kissing. It was like a powder keg had gone off and now there was nothing that could stop them. It was so confusing. Sanji should hate him. Sanji should hate Zoro for the things he had done. He shouldn’t be doing this. Yet, he’s here and he can’t stop. He just can’t stop. 

Zoro’s hand moved to the back of his neck and pulled him closer. His tongue was shoved into his mouth and mapped out every inch of the blonde’s mouth. Sanji should push Zoro off of him, but he partially started this. He was already not wanting this to end. He didn’t want this to stop. It felt really strange, but he didn’t want this to stop ever. He’d kissed plenty of women and a lot of them got him aroused, and often left him aroused. However, the way that Zoro held the back of his neck to hold him there and the dominance battle he had already lost.  

His feelings were so all over the place right now, but he couldn’t deny, even if he tried to ignore it, the tightness in his pants.  

He hadn’t wanted it to end. Not in the slightest. But Zoro pulled away and Sanji didn’t want that. He moved as Zoro pulled back and was almost on his lap.  

What had Zoro done to him? No really, what had he done to him? Because he couldn’t believe that he was behaving like this now when Zoro had done such a fucked up think to him not that long ago. Zoro and Sanji were now kissing quite passionately on Sanji’s couch, and he never expected that to happen. 

Sanji looked at Zoro and Zoro looked at him. They didn’t say anything to each other, but Zoro turned to the side and then went to stand up. 

“Where are you going?” Sanji asked. A hint of annoyance and a hint of confusion. Zoro was just getting up and leaving him as he was turned on from their kissing.  

“Wouldn’t you rather do this in your room? I mean, I’m happy to do it on the couch but...” 

Hold on hold on. What does he mean by do this? So, it was a reality. They were going to have sex and Sanji was feeling… 

"Who said I wanted to have sex with you?" Sanji sneered at him. The thought that this was going to happen. Was it too fast? Sanji wasn't too sure. Maybe it was but, in his mind, he found himself leaning towards the idea. He didn't know if it was the right thing to do but it was the thing, he felt himself leaning towards wanting to do.  

"It's not what you say. It's how you react to me..." There was a little bit of smugness from Zoro's side which was annoying and weirdly attractive. Damn him. Damn him. Zoro looked back at him and tilted his head. 

"Well, are you coming then, cook?" 

Sanji had no choice. He got up and pushed past him but only so he could show him where his bedroom his. Sanji, who always prided himself on his charm and ease around women was in completely new and unfamiliar territory. This was different, more intense and more confusion. However, in his bedroom, Zoro moving in close to him and feeling his strong hands taking a sudden hold of his hips, there was a growing desire he couldn't ignore right now. 

Zoro moved his head against Sanji's. As equally as lost in this as Sanji was right now. He was about to kiss Sanji again before Sanji whispered to him. 

"This doesn't change the past," Sanji said, a moment of vulnerability that could be heard in his voice.  

"I know..." 

And that was that. Sanji moved so his lips to smash his lips against Zoro's lips. Later on, he would consider this but for now, he would fall into this moment and fall into it. When he came to Zoro, he never considered that he would never be in this space kissing Zoro. As they kissed, Zoro took a few step forwards and tried to guide Sanji going backwards so they can go over to the bedroom. Sanji followed in the way that Zoro tried to guide him until he felt the back of his knees hit his bed. When they did, he almost fell back but he grabbed Zoro's shoulder and pulled him onto the bed with him. Zoro was guided to land on top of him.  

This was actually kind of scary. Sanji felt a bubble of anxiety at the idea that Zoro was going to...Zoro was going to fuck him and the idea of that should have made his toes curl and while he thought that Zoro was still his rival and he wanted to beat him at being the best kisser, but the idea of Zoro was going to fuck him was... 

Zoro's knee pushed against his thigh and invertedly, his cock was rubbed against, and Sanji suddenly realised how aroused he was as he was incredibly fucking hard. A moan left his mouth, and it was incredibly embarrassing. He could feel his face heating up as they feverishly kissed. Sanji felt Zoro's hands that were on his hips trailing up his waist and... oh goodness. This was already too good, and Sanji didn't want to show that, but he just couldn't.  

Zoro tugged at Sanji's shirt so Sanji leaned up so he could quickly remove his shirt. Zoro followed suit by doing the same. Sanji never thought that he would ever gawk at a man but...damn. 

Zoro was built like a herculean hero.  A muscled hero and Sanji couldn't take his eyes. He wanted to reach forward and feel ever depth and muscle but before he could even think about it. Zoro's head went to the crook of his neck to take in that addicting scent and bit him. His hands were on his waist. His hands went to touch him everywhere. His hips, chest, shoulders and then further down.  

"You're so perfect..." 

Sanji's breath was caught. Perfect.  

This changes nothing. Absolutely nothing.  

Caught on a stray thought, Sanji was brought to life when Zoro's hands hooked at the waist band of his pants. Sanji went to lift his hips up so Zoro could pull them off. Sanji kicked them off before throwing them somewhere in the room on the floor. He tried not to think about the past. The current moment was free of all that had happened so surely, he would be able to move on from it.  Right. 

But he just couldn't deny himself anymore. 

"You look so good like this Curly," 

Sanji began to wonder if he looked just as good as the photos that Sanji given him. Although, he didn't want to think about that because it would likely ruin the moment for him, and he didn't want to think about what Zoro did to him. As they both stripped off the rest of their clothes, Sanji and Zoro were naked in front of each other for the first time and Sanji couldn't take his mind off of the beautiful body in front of him.  

Zoro moved his hands onto Sanji's kneed with the intention of slowly parting his legs. it should have felt really embarrassing for him to be seen like this under Zoro's lustful gaze, but it just didn't feel that way. It felt incredibly right in this moment. Zoro looked up at Sanji's face and studied his face intensely. Face flushed and his eyes dipped down to Sanji's cock and untouched hole that Zoro knew had never been breached by another man and there was a swell of pride at the thought that he would be the one to do it. 

"You...Do you still have lube?" 

Sanji turned his head to the side and reached his hand out to point to the drawer next to the bed. 

"Bottom shelf," 

To which Zoro went into the shelf and grabbed the lube. He coated his fingers in the lube before easing Sanji's legs open. Sanji was mostly complacent. 

"How are you feeling?" Zoro asked, looking up with him 

"Just get on with it," 

Right. Sanji is feeling fine then. He made sure that Sanji's legs were spread nice and wide for him before pushing the pad of his finger against the blonde's hole and eased it, slowly. 

"Ngh-" 

The moans were just as good as they were in the videos. 

"That's it baby..." Zoro whispered, easing his finger in, "Good..." 

After a few minutes, he inserted a second finger. He thrusted his fingers shallowly. Sanji's hips buckled into his hand every time that sweet spot inside of him. Zoro had found it already. Wonderful. This was deeper than Sanji had ever managed to get with his own fingers. His eyes were shut and if it wasn't for Zoro's arm, he would have shut his legs too. Zoro inserted a third and then daringly, Sanji then inserted a fourth. That ended up getting small hiss out of them who buckled his hips. Despite what he was doing, Zoro made sure to watch his face while he thrusted his fingers into that spot.  

As much as Sanji didn't want to act too lewdly like he had in those videos, he couldn't help but moan and groan every time Zoro's fingers brushed against that thought. If he had told himself a year ago that Zoro was going to fuck him, and it was going to feel really good, then Sanji would have thrown himself in the ocean. 

Oh. That's funny. Times change then. 

Zoro could only help but hope Sanji is just as tight around his cock. Just as he always wanted. 

"You look good like this," Zoro breathed out as he brushed his fingers against the spot, "Stretched around my fingers like this...will I fuck you?" 

"J-Just....Just get on with it Please ,"  

Likely embarrassed that Zoro had made him feel really good. Zoro grinned before pulling his fingers out and grabbing the lube again. He covered his cock in lube before making sure there was plenty on Sanji's hole. Zoro moved so he could get in between Sanji's legs. He moved his hand to grab a hold of his cock only so he could guide it into Sanji's awaiting hole. He couldn't think of a place he'd rather be, and Sanji couldn't think of a place he would rather be. 

This was real bliss. 

"Fuck...you feel good," 

Sanji gripped the bed as Zoro moved in inch by inch. He took a hold of Sanji's hips so he could bury himself into his ass. Sanji couldn't help but close his eyes and groan. It wasn't overly painful; he'd gotten used to it the number of times he'd done it to himself. Even after, Sanji still filled himself when he was masturbating because it just made things 100x better. 

Zoro pulled his hips back and then back in. He wanted Sanji to feel and get used to every inch of his cock before it was pulled back out and then back in again. His thrusts were set as a steady pace. His lips were on Sanji's. His lips were drawing out breaths and then lapping up the flavours of the blonde underneath in. Sanji swore this didn't change anything and that he would go back to resenting and hating him afterwards, but this felt... 

Well, all is fair in love and in war, isn't it? 

Zoro's hips began to quicken in pace, but it didn't get overly fast. His hands held onto Sanji's hips tight in a way that would probably cause bruises from the way that the pads sunk into the pale skin underneath them. If anything, it would be a hidden reminder of what they had done. 

Sanji was getting closer to the edge, and it felt much more intense than when he had done it himself. The way his legs shook and the way he clenched around Zoro's cock. Zoro knew he'd be able to watch Sanji cum soon like in those videos and that would be absolutely divine. Zoro dipped his head into Sanji's neck and began to kiss him a few times before biting into the crook of his neck which made Sanji gasp. Suddenly, a hand was wrapped around his cock and Sanji groaned, thrusting his hips into Zoro's hand. 

"Come for me...I need to watch you..." 

Zoro didn't need to say anymore. Sanji's hips moved forward, and he arched his back against the bed as Zoro began to milk his cock. His hole gripped around Zoro's cock as Sanji let out a pathetic whine as he came into Zoro's hand. It was too much for Zoro too who came with a pant and painted Sanji's insides with stipes of cum. He continued to fuck him until they were both over their orgasm and then Zoro just stopped and panted next to Sanji once he had pulled out. 

All Sanji could do was look at the celling. All he could think about was the post-orgasmic bliss...or not really. 

At the end of it all, it changed nothing between them and as Sanji lay there in all the glory of the morning, that thought occurred into his head. Maybe Zoro didn't see it. Maybe this was a distraction to stop him from thinking about what happened between them or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, Sanji looked up at the celling of his bedroom while he puffed and panted. He turned his head towards the window and memories of what happened a few months ago flooded his brain and there was a pang of hurt in his chest. He didn't forgive Zoro. He couldn't forgive Zoro and he never would.  

This changed nothing. 

"I love you," 

Sanji was caught off guard, but he wasn't surprised to hear him confess such things. After all, that was what all this was about. A game that had become more serious as the days went on.  

Sanji couldn't say it back. It wasn't true. Even in the intense moment where he maybe had the smallest smidge of feelings, he couldn't say that he loved Zoro. No. Not after all that happened. He didn't think it would be possible for him to love Zoro. He didn't say anything and when Sanji didn't say anything, Zoro didn't press it any further. In fact, he didn't say anything. He just got dressed and left without saying another word. There was a small acknowledgement of each other's existence here and there but otherwise they didn't exchange much words. Once Zoro was gone, Sanji moved onto his side and faced away from the window. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to acknowledge any of this anymore. 

It was a mistake. He thought it might change things, but it didn't, and he was a fool for thinking it might change something.  

A MONTH LATER.  

Sanji never really closed for Zeff much anymore. Zeff must have taken some resemblance of pity on him but for a change, Sanji asked if he could do the honours. Zeff was a little suspicious of Sanji's reasoning, but he framed it as being a thank you for all the good things he had done for him. It was...partially that, but Luffy has been complaining recently about not being able to raid the fridges so he promised that if he could get rid of Zeff for the night, Luffy could come by the restaurant. Apart from it was never just Luffy was it? It was Nami and... well, Zoro. Zoro had started coming by with the others too once again just like he used to before all of...this. 

At first, it made Sanji feel a little apprehensive about it considering that he really didn't know what to expect but it ended up being like normal. As if nothing ever changed. Maybe nothing ever did change. Everything that he'd went through with Zoro, and it was as if nothing ever happened.  

"SANJI!" 

Sanji was in the back office getting ready to close when he heard Luffy's booming voice and him banging on the window. No matter how many times he had told him not to do that, Luffy still did it anyway. Despite how it used to annoy him, now it just made him smile. He finished what he was doing and got up to let them in. 

Sanji made his way over to the door. He had to admit it, but he missed this so much. This whole thing brought him a sense of familiarity and comfort. Luffy's boisterous presence and Nami's knowing smile were part of a routine he unknowingly loved and missed when things happened not that long ago. 

As he opened the door to let them in, Luffy burst through the door and immediately ran to the kitchen, "Sanji! I'm starving! What's for dinner?!?" Luffy's enthusiasm was infectious. Sanji couldn't help but smile as the chaos it brought with it.  

Nami followed in the door, "You know, you didn't have to do this. You deserve your evenings off," 

Sanji returned the smile, "It's no trouble. I missed having you all here," 

His gaze shifted to Zoro who was always the last to enter. As always, he carried a nonchalantness about him but... 

"What the hell you looking at, curly?" 

Ah yes. Things were back to true form. 

"Whatever the hell you are, moss head," Sanji went to do his usual, block Zoro from getting in but Zoro was too quick for him and got in no problem.  

"Like hell you are. I'll beat your ass," 

Quiet. But then their eyes met briefly and there was a quiet acknowledgement of each other. A silent telepathic communication that didn't need words to say how they felt about each other.  

The evening unfolded with ease. Luffy raided the kitchen, Nami chatted with Sanji about the latest happenings and Zoro sat at the bar with a beer and watched the usual scene. The atmosphere was lively and warm, and it was filled with laughter. Sanji cooked his friends a meal, something he sometimes did if he could hide from Zeff that he had been using the restaurant's resources. As the evening developed, Sanji and Zoro were back to their usual. Occasional barbs that looked like they had returned to their own ways. 

As Sanji served up the meal, Luffy grew excited, and his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. Nami continued to chat with Sanji as they caught up on recent events. Zoro was content to watch the scene unfold as he sipped his beer and occasionally joined in on the conversation. Oh, and of course, to banter with Sanji. There was a renewed sense of camaraderie among the group, and it truly felt like a family sometimes. 

As the night began to wound down, Luffy and Nami prepared to leave. Sanji was quite tired and was looking forward to resting for the night, but he couldn't help the great deal of love her felt when he looked at his friends around the room. The warmth of the evening continues to linger. As those two left, Zoro lingered a tad looking back at Sanji but not saying much before he left.  

Sanji was cleaning up the restaurant making sure that they didn't leave a trace that they had been when he felt his phone buzz. He reached into his pocket as he leaned against the table. 

Zoro. Finally, he changed the name on his phone to Zoro. 

Z: So, will I wait for you upstairs?  

Sanji couldn't help the small smile that came onto his face. Things didn't change. This didn't change the past. 

However, that didn't mean that things could blossom. 

S: Sounds good.  

S: See you soon, Mosshead.  

#one piece zosan #vinsmoke sanji #zoro x sanji #zosan #zosan fanfic #opla #one piece #roronoa zoro #op zosan

[anneapocalypse]

So. About Minfilia.

This one really got to me.

I don't think I've cried over a character death in this game like this since Haurchefant--both of whom, incidentally, I knew going in were going to die at some point, because I'd encountered spoilers well before I ever imagined I would play this game. (Having Ariane fall for both of them in turn was not the plan, it just happened along the way and felt right for her character, and the extra tragedy it ended up adding was a side effect but one that's become lode-bearing for her story in a lot of ways.)

So I'll say to start that given what the writers had to work with going into Shadowbringers, I think Minfilia's story ends about as well as it could have. The variant flow of time in the First, and specifically the fact that a century has passed there since she arrived, is vital to Shadowbringers' story. Minfilia was never meant to be an immortal being, nor did she want to be. And while there's probably an interesting AU in her becoming mortal again and returning home (and I could see myself writing something like that), that's a very involved concept that wouldn't have worked well with the story Shadowbringers was telling. So, her fate was sealed when she departed for the First. Furthermore the way she goes out is really thematically in line with the Scions as a whole, from Louisoix to Moenbryda to Papalymo: one person giving their life to contain an existential threat--not even to destroy it completely, but to slow the tide so that others can carry on the fight. And Minfilia even takes it a step further, managing to stick around in some form long enough for the other Scions to make it to the First. The Warrior of Light even gets to see her one last time, so her promise to return to them when her work was done--it wasn't an empty one. We get to say goodbye.

I'm okay with this. It's a decent end to her story, given where we started from this expansion.

That doesn't make me especially okay with how we got here, though.

I am still a sprout here, having just started playing last year and being mid-Shadowbringers for the first time now. I was not around when ARR was new, and cannot speak to the fan reception of Minfilia at the time. I have heard through my grapevine, however, that she was not well-liked. Whether because she was a non-combat character, a quest-giver in an annoying location, a woman who told people to do stuff while wearing a mildly revealing outfit (and I do mean mildly)... Idk what the dealbreaker was. That's just what I've heard. Having heard that, though, it makes the choice to write her out at the end of ARR feel... motivated, in a way that maybe it otherwise wouldn't.

There is nothing meaningfully wrong with Minfilia's character in ARR that couldn't be said about any of the core Scions.

Wahhh I don't want to return to the Waking Sands for the 80th time? Fair, but that's a game design issue getting taken out on a character who happens to be connected to it. Call it the Preston Garvey Problem. Her outfit is silly? It's hardly meaningfully sillier than other NPC outfit designs, or Final Fantasy fashion generally. Go tell it to the catgirls in the 2b tights by the aetheryte. She doesn't even fight? Honestly kind of refreshing to me to see non-combat characters play a major role in the story, because fighting isn't the only thing that drives stories! (Hey, didn't Tataru have a whole subplot about that?)

She's underdeveloped? Name me a character who gets great character development in ARR. (There is a correct answer to this question. It's Cid Garlond. 😛) But the Scions? A handful of them feel like very well-rounded characters now because they've had whole expansions that explored them as people and deepened their relationship to the setting and story in meaningful ways--Lyse, Alphinaud, Alisaie, Urianger, Y'shtola, Thancred. But none of them are well-rounded in ARR. ARR is not about character development. It's basically a very long tutorial level that gets you acquainted with the world, its major conflicts, and the major players in those conflicts. The character-driven storytelling really starts with Heavensward. If we truncated all the Scions' stories at the end of ARR, I don't think the others are any deeper than Minfilia.

I liked Minfilia right off because she was kind and caring, and she had an obvious talent for bringing people together, probably in a similar way to Louisoix himself. Hence her becoming the Antecedent and continuing to do diplomatic work across three nations. Did she make mistakes? Yeah, absolutely. Lest anyone is tempted to single her out in the Crystal Braves disaster, though, I will point to what I said in my post about how the Scions failed Alphinaud: every adult in the room should have seen the red flags about that, and not one of them did, including Urianger who is extremely protective of the twins, and Thancred who is extremely protective of Minfilia. And yes, she was in charge, and she does bear a greater share of the responsibility. But whatever you think of that plot point, whether it's leaning a little too heavily on Rule of Stupid or whether believable for a group of idealistic apocalypse survivors with martyr complexes, it's written as something that all the Scions failed to foresee. And for the others, especially for Alphinaud, that mistake and subsequent disaster is used as an opportunity for character growth. Alphinaud has to confront his own arrogance, which drives his character growth as he continues to play a major role in every expansion. Yda/Lyse and Papalymo get themselves involved with the Ala Mhigan resistance, providing the setup for Stormblood and a tremendous amount of character development for Lyse. Y'shtola in desperation turns to darker and more dangerous forms of magic, setting us up for her transformation into a black mage in Shadowbringers where will continue to see her turn to dangerous magics at desperate times. Thancred's wilderness survival journey precedes us getting to see a darker and lonelier side of him. And so forth.

Minfilia throws herself on Hydaelyn's mercy, and gets tempered. I mean, carried unto her bosom, granting her a strength long sought. Because of course we're meant to take it as a given that she was weak before. She was the leader of an international organization who did diplomatic work across three nations, but she couldn't throw fireballs or hit people good with a stick, so. She loses her very will for a while there, until Hydaelyn mercifully decides she's strong enough to give it back to her.

And now, no one talks about the work she did as the Antecedent, or with the Path of the Twelve before that. It's all about her noble sacrifice, how she gave up her whole life to save the First. And she was noble, and generous, and a hero. But she was a person before that, and she could have been more. She could have been a character with a real arc, who got to struggle and learn from her mistakes and grow with us, as the others have.

Minfilia didn't get that. She got to be a sacrificial vessel for the salvation of others, over and over again until there was none of her left. And we never have to reckon with her feeling scared or uncertain or angry about this, because she is always the willing sacrifice, always noble and generous and a hero. Shadowbringers spends far more time on Thancred's feelings about Minfilia than on Minfilia's feelings about her own fate. And I do like Thancred, so please don't read this as me hating on him; I even liked getting more of their history onscreen, at first. But at a certain point I just wanted to shake him and say, You are not the only one who loved her! And your feelings about her are not the only thing that matters here!

I love characters who are deeply and deliberately kind, especially when they have a history that gives them plenty of reasons to be otherwise. I love characters with a passion and drive to make their world better, even when that comes at great cost. It's why I love Julie Farkas, and Vanessa Kimball. But I also like to see how they reckon with the cost, how they struggle with the burden of that kindness. I love it when Kimball loses her temper, when she isn't patient and virtuous all the time. We do finally get some of that with Ryne. But not for the original Minfilia. She goes gently into that good night with gentle words and a gentle smile. And yes, after a hundred years, she has earned a rest.

But having loved her gentle soul from the beginning, I am mourning what she could have been, if she had ever been allowed to be anything else.

#ngl i'm kinda fucked up about this #anne plays ffxiv #shadowbringers spoilers #stormblood spoilers #heavensward spoilers #arr spoilers #just spoilers all around #ffxiv critical #afk by the aetheryte #minfilia warde

[wanderingcas]

I would LOVE to know how the ending changed!!!! 👀💞

OKAY PERFECT IT'S 1AM AND I CANT SLEEP SO I WOULD LOVE TO SHARE

spoilers under the cut if anyone hasn't read it yet and wants to remain surprised

so in the original ending i had gadreel as one of lucifer's hired men rather than a detective (there's a leftover detail of that in one of sam's pov chapters where jody holds up a mugshot of gadreel. gotta change that still oopsie daisy). i was going to have cas leave the lighthouse, then come back to the lighthouse upon the threat of gadreel being there and holding dean at gunpoint or something idk

and then basically cas and dean have a showdown with gadreel at the lighthouse, they do a cute murder, and dean washes gadreel's body away with the tide. the storm comes and they decide that they can't stay - they have to go on the run since lucifer/lucas knows where cas is. dean decides to go with cas.

SO THE REASON i didn't like this ending about 75% into writing the draft (💀) was because i really liked the theme of choice and freedom that was emerging through the fic - with dean feeling as if he's trapped in the lighthouse and has no other choice juxtaposed with cas feeling as if he has to be on the run and has no other choice. it felt much more meaningful for dean to choose to leave the lighthouse not under duress but because he chooses it for himself. annnd with cas returning to the lighthouse and deciding to face his fate not because of dean being in danger (i mean he thinks that at first because im a jerk and wanted to throw in one last red herring) but because he simply wants to be with dean and chooses to stop running and simply live his life the way HE wants to live it - that felt more significant to me.

so with cas choosing to stay with dean, and dean choosing to leave with cas, it just felt like the perfect symmetry for them 🫶

also the murder thing just kinda soured the plot to me, too - i wanted to give them some softness. although the idea of cas going COMPLETELY feral at dean being hurt and held at gunpoint was delicious to me. i will be sure to include this in the next fic i write 🫡

#notrenu #answered ask #wtidspn #THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING I WAS DYING TO TELL SOMEONE LOL