#leaving Echo to his own devices

[theemporium]

[3k] too many shots and a bet leads to a very interesting night out. it's just a shame neither of them can remember it and the whole world is discovering the details alongside with them.

series masterlist

.

RING! RING!

The first thing you were painfully aware of was the annoying shrill of your phone echoing from some distant corner of the room. 

RING! RING!

The second thing was the fact you had forgotten to close the blinds last night, meaning the blinding rays of the Nevada sun were doing their best job in dragging you out of your comforting slumber like irritating parasites. 

RING! RING!

And the third thing was that whoever was trying to call you was seemingly very insistent to get in contact with you, if the three calls in a row (that you were so far aware of) were anything to go by.

RING! RING!

“Oh my god,” you groaned as you pulled the edges of the pillow over your ears, hoping it would muffle the ringing shrills. But when the phone continued to ring and the noise only seemed to get louder, you were forced to throw your hand out and blindly try to grasp the cursed device in hopes of making the noise stop. 

Your fingers wrapped around the buzzing phone, your eyes still firmly kept shut as you kept tapping the screen until the ringing stopped before you brought it to your ear. “You better have a good fucking reason for calling me.”

“I hope you are doing something you enjoy.”

You frowned, your brain taking a few moments to process the voice coming through. “Arthur?” 

“Like, I hope you are fulfilling your lifelong wish right now.” 

“What the fuck are you on about?” You grumbled, exhaustion hitting your body just as badly as the rays of sunlight shining through the open blinds were. “It’s too early for your riddles.”

“I am just saying that I think you should be doing something you love before Charles kills you.” 

You let out a non-committing hum. “And why would he kill me?” 

“Many reasons but I think getting married in Vegas last night is easily the top of the list right now.”

Your eyes shot open when you heard the words leave Arthur’s mouth. It felt like ice had doused your entire body as you quickly sat up in the hotel bed, now painfully aware of the pounding headache that only tequila could give you. 

“WHAT?”

“Congrats, by the way. I do pity the poor guy you locked up though.” 

Now painfully aware of the situation, your eyes grabbing onto any detail that would hopefully prove your brother wrong. Unfortunately, all you seemed to find was evidence that he was telling the truth if the white dress, the horribly large costume jewelry ring on your finger and the abandoned veil with ‘NEW BRIDE’ on the floor were anything to go by. 

“Oh my fucking god,” you breathed out, feeling though as you were going to empty your stomach’s contents any moment now. “How do you know? Why didn’t you stop me?!” 

“I wasn’t with you! I just opened Twitter and found pictures of my sister outside a wedding chapel and all over some random guy!”

“I married a stranger,” you hissed out, your lips parting in shock. Tequila made you do many questionable things, but even this was bad for you. 

“He’s your husband, it’s a bit offensive to call him a stranger.”

“Arthur, I swear to god—” You cut yourself off as your eyes fell on the large lump in the bed next to you. It took you an embarrassingly long time to realise it was another human. It took you even longer to tear your eyes away from the cheap suit he was wearing before you looked up at his face. “Oh my fucking god.”

“What?”

“Charles is going to kill me,” you breathed out, your heart pounding like it was lodged in your throat. 

“Yes, we established that when I called you—”

“Charles is going to kill me when he finds out I married Max,” you continued, lost in your own daze that you barely acknowledge your spluttering brother on the other side of the phone.

“YOU MARRIED MAX VERSTAPPEN?!” 

Unfortunately for Arthur’s sake, you quickly hung up the phone. You could barely process the fact the Dutch driver was currently passed out on the bed next to you, let alone doing so with your brother screeching in your ear the whole time. The phone was abandoned on the bed as you stared at the Dutchman, your brain working on overdrive as you tried to work out what to do next. 

So, you did what any reasonable person would do and shoved him off the bed. 

“OW!” 

You froze for a moment before you crawled over to the other side of the bed, peaking over the edge and down at Max who was currently groaning on the floor from his impromptu wake up call. 

“What the fuck was that about?” He grumbled, blinking a few times before he realised who was hovering over him. “What the fuck are you doing in my hotel room?” 

“This is actually my hotel room,” you replied. 

“Oh,” he muttered. “Then, what the fuck am I doing in your hotel room?”

“Well, it’s what a married couple do,” you commented. 

Max’s brows furrowed together. “What?”

You lifted your left hand, the ring now on display and you could practically see the cogs turning in his head before the realisation hit him. “Do you think this counts as our honeymoon?” 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” 

...

...

“How did this happen?” 

“Tequila,” you muttered with your nose scrunched in disgust as you watched the Dutchman begin to pace the hotel room. If you cared enough, you would be concerned about him wearing down the carpet. Though as of the current moment, your priorities were currently elsewhere. 

Max turned to look down at the certificate he had found stranded beside your veil on the floor, your names and signatures clearly printed on the piece of paper—which took out the small piece of hope that this was just some elaborate prank set up by Arthur.

“How did we get that drunk though?” Max questioned, his brows furrowed together. If he wasn’t so confused, he would be more embarrassed at the fact he clearly couldn’t handle his alcohol as well as he once could. 

“Well, it’s your fault,” you commented casually, which had the boy whirling around to face you. 

“How is this my fault?” Max scoffed.

“You made the bet!” 

Max’s frown deepened. “What bet?”

“At the hotel bar,” you stated like it was a basic fact he should have remembered. “When I bumped into you—”

“We bumped into each other,” Max chided. 

“—you were the one to suggest shots,” you pointed out.

Max gave you a look. “How is that a bet?” 

“Because you said I couldn’t outdrink you. I said you would be a sore loser. And then you bought us ten shots each.” 

He blinked. “Huh.” 

“I’m pretty sure it was also your idea to go to another bar afterwards when we got kicked out the hotel bar,” you said in a sing-song voice.

Max scoffed. “Absolutely not. You were the one that said only losers go to bed after one bar.” 

You shrugged. “I stand by it.”

Max let out a laugh, a little breathless like he was trying to hide it. He shook his head, glancing down at the certificate one more time before shrugging. “It’s not really that bad, to be honest. A bit embarrassing, but what people don’t know won’t hurt them.”

Your expression turned sheepish. “About that…”

“Who knows?” He asked in a blunt voice. 

“Well, Arthur knows,” you started. 

“That’s not that bad,” Max scoffed, his shoulders relaxing. “Wait. Charles doesn’t know, does he?”

“Not yet,” you said before quickly continuing. “But he probably will because the paparazzi caught us last night and now the pictures are all over the internet.” 

Max blinked. “AND YOU DIDN’T THINK TO START WITH THAT?” 

“You’re grumpy when you wake up!” You defended, watching as the boy rolled his eyes at you.

“The whole world thinks we are married!” Max countered before sputtering out a laugh. “Well, we are married. Or we aren’t. I’m still not totally sure but I don’t need your brother chopping off my balls over it!”

“He wouldn’t!”

Max shot you a look.

“Okay, he would,” you grimaced before giving him a shaky smile. “But he doesn’t know yet so we should be in the clear—”

BUZZ! BUZZ! BUZZ!

...

...

“Okay, I have good news and bad news.” 

Max looked at you expectantly. “And?” 

“Bad news: Charles now knows,” you said with a shaky smile. “Good news: he doesn’t know it’s you!” 

Max pressed his fingers into his temples, trying to rub soothing circles. “Fucking hell.” 

“But also bad news: he is coming here right now as we speak so we should probably—” You started, fully set on grabbing what you needed and hiding out somewhere else in the hotel until Charles calmed down. However, your plans were put on hold when you heard a groan from the bathroom. 

“CAN YOU BOTH PLEASE SHUT UP?”

Your gaze caught Max’s as you stared at each other, both with expressions mixed between confusion and surprise. A few seconds passed before you were both clambering off the bed, heading towards the bathroom where you threw the door open and scrambled to turn on the light before you both froze in the doorway at the sight in front of you.

“Now that was unnecessary.” 

You gaped at the sight of Yuki curled up in the bathtub, dressed in a similar looking suit to the one Max was wearing along with what you were certain was the shower curtain placed over him like a blanket. He had a pillow behind his head and sunglasses over his eyes, and for all intents and purposes, he looked fairly comfortable. 

“Oh my god,” you breathed out. “I married two drivers last night?!”

“I hope you at least married me before Yuki,” Max grumbled, only to let out a small wince when you elbowed him. “God, you’re a difficult wife.” 

“Kinda going through something,” you snapped back before your eyes moved back to the Japanese driver. “I can’t believe I married you and Yuki.”

The driver in the tub let out a scoff mixed with a laugh. “Please, you didn’t marry me. You’re not my type.”

You blinked, unsure whether or not you should have been offended by his comment. 

“The ring on your finger says otherwise, mate,” Max commented, the ring a matching one with the one that was currently on your left hand.

“I married someone but not you,” Yuki said as he waved you off, nuzzling his face back into the pillow. “And our wedding was much classier than yours.”

“I—” You frowned. “You remember?” 

“Yeah, you said you wanted witnesses,” Yuki grumbled, bringing the shower curtain up until it was tucked under his chin. “You also dragged Lando out so he would take your photos.” 

Max gaped. “Lando was there? Lando knows?!” 

“Yes, now can you please go bother him?” Yuki muttered under his breath. “And turn the lights off as you leave. Only wake me up when you order food.” 

...

...

“Don’t make me an accomplice in your crimes.” 

“Shut up and let us in.” 

You weren’t surprised to find that Lando and Logan were already in the room, both with looks of amusement on their faces as they watched you and Max wander in—still dressed in your wedding clothes from the night before. 

You wanted to slap the smug looks off their face. 

“Is it really a good idea to hide here?” Max asked as he took a seat on the edge of the bed, feeling as though the headache pounding through his head had nothing to do with the alcohol he consumed last night and more to do with the mess you both had created.

“It buys us time,” you insisted. 

“On the chance that Arthur doesn’t rat you out,” Logan added. 

“You told Arthur where I was?” Your eyes widened before you turned to look at Oscar. “Do you want me dead?” 

“You know, something about the way you’re wording that makes me feel like it’s a trick question,” Oscar commented with a suspicious look on his face.

“Oh my god, I’m going to die today,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. 

“It’s kinda romantic that you guys will die together,” Lando chimed in as he grinned between you and Max. 

“If I survive today, I’m going to run you over,” Max threatened with a strained smile on his lips.

Lando snorted, shrugging. “Yeah but the chances of that happening are low so…”

“Your brother doesn’t even know my room number,” Oscar pointed out. “It will take him ages to convince the desk to give it to him or even hunt—” 

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“This is what English teachers meant when they taught us poetic irony,” Lando laughed, all giddy and happy.

“Like you paid attention,” you grumbled, eyes narrowing on the boy before you turned back to the door. “Don’t answer it.” 

Oscar’s eyes widened. “I can’t not answer it.” 

“Yes, you can,” you said bluntly. “Just don't open the door.”

“He knows we are in here,” he hissed. 

“We don’t know that for sure.” 

“OPEN UP! I CAN HEAR YOU! SOMEONE OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW OR I SWEAR TO GOD—” 

“Even more reason not to open the door,” you said, pressing your lips together to hide the wince that you wanted to let out as Charles thumped on the door again. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Max grumbled as he quickly stood up, ignoring your pleas to just pretend your brother didn’t exist. He reached the door, yanked it open and braced himself for the wrath of an angry Charles Leclerc.

Much to his surprise, the Monegasque barged straight past him and headed straight for Oscar instead. 

“You!” Charles gritted out through clenched teeth as he reached to grab Oscar’s collar, firsting the material in his hands. “What do you have to say to yourself?” 

Oscar’s eyes widened as Charles backed him into a wall. “What?!” 

“Marrying my sister in Vegas? What the fuck is wrong with you?” Charles continued. 

It didn’t take long for Lando to descend into a fit of giggles, practically on the floor if it weren’t for the fact Logan was keeping him on the bed. Somewhere still standing by the door, Arthur stood with an amused look on his face that only grew wider when he saw your confused and shocked expression too. 

“I didn’t marry your sister!” Oscar said to him, trying to push the boy away but he was latched on tightly. “I was literally in bed by nine!”

“Loser,” Logan grumbled under his breath.

Charles faltered, his eyebrows furrowing together. “What?”

“I wasn’t the guy to marry your sister,” Oscar repeated, finally managing to pull Charles’ hands off him. “I don’t think there is enough alcohol in the world for me to do that.”

“First Yuki and now him,” you scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“If you didn’t marry her, then who did?” Charles questioned. 

It was almost comical how quickly everyone turned to look at Max, who was still standing by the door and looked like he was contemplating just dashing out the room.

“You,” Charles muttered out, his eyes narrowing on the Dutchman. 

“In my defence,” Max started as he gave the boy a smile, though it didn’t seem as confident as he was hoping it would be. “I didn’t know I married her either.”

“I am right here,” you huffed. “Jesus Christ.” 

“I am going to—” 

“Nothing. You’re going to do nothing,” you jumped in, taking a step so you were blocking his line of vision of Max. “It’s just a…phoney, fake marriage. It’s not that big of a deal, Charles. People will forget by next weekend anyways.”

“Uh,” Logan cleared his throat. “It’s actually very legal all over the US and in some other places—”

“Shut up, Logan.”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

Charles narrowed his eyes on you. “You’re not allowed to marry him.”

“I already did,” you pointed out with a sheepish expression. 

“I don’t care.” 

“Charles,” you stepped towards him, though the boy still looked like he was contemplating parading into the paddock with Max’s head on a stick. “Charlie, please. Don’t do something stupid because you’re annoyed.” 

“I want to cut his dick off,” Charles told you.

“I know.”

“And you can no longer have alcohol unsupervised.”

“That’s a tad dramatic.” 

“And no consummating the marriage.”

“That would be difficult to do if you cut off his dick anyways.”

“Can we stop talking about my dick?” Max chimed in with his hands locked in front of him, almost protectively.

Charles sighed. “But I promise I won’t kill either of you. Today.” 

You grinned as you reached towards your brother, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him into a hug. “Thank you.”

“You should tell Maman before she finds out through the internet,” he murmured, pausing for a moment before continuing. “Maybe shower first. You stink of tequila.”

“That would be kinda hard to do considering Yuki is currently asleep in my bathtub,” you commented. 

Charles opened his mouth to reply but just shook his head. “I’m not even gonna ask.”

“Good, because I don’t have answers,” you murmured with your lips turned down. “And he’s really snappy when you try to get them from him.” 

Charles snorted. 

“So, that’s it?” Lando suddenly spoke up from behind you both. “God, that was not worth getting out of bed for. I expected more drama.”

“I’m still pissed at you,” you told the Brit, who just grinned. 

“I’ll send you the photos later, don’t you worry,” he said like he didn’t just hear the words that left your mouth. “Maybe one of them will inspire angry Charles again.”

“Please don’t,” Max grumbled. 

“It won’t be necessary because we are finding a divorce lawyer,” Charles stated simply, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head before he began making his way to the door, nodding for Arthur to follow him. “Both of you get dressed. We are leaving in an hour.”

Both you and Max gaped at the boy, but he didn’t notice. 

“And someone take one for the team and wake up Yuki. I vote Lando.” 

Lando frowned. “Woah, wait a second–”

“ONE HOUR PEOPLE!!”

...

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri and 133,728 others

yourusername call me mrs verstappen

view all 12,892 comments

oscarpiastri sometimes i wonder if you just enjoy pushing charles over the edge

yourusername yes

user WHAT

user it was real?????

user oh my god IT WAS MAX?

user someone sedate me

user this is some wattpad level stuff wtf the book tropes????

user i need to know how charles reacted when he found out

arthur_leclerc badly

maxverstappen1 i mean it was an accidental name but i guess it suits you

yourusername you like meeeee, admit it :)

maxverstappen1 i think i legally have to agree because you're my wife

yourusername damn don't sound too enthusiastic about it

user i just know charles lost years of his life over this

landonorris uh photo creds?

yourusername no

landonorris rude

charles_leclerc take this down

yourusername no

charles_leclerc you are a leclerc, not a verstappen

yourusername the marriage certificate says otherwise

charles_leclerc please stop reminding me

pascaleleclerc welcome to the family maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc MAMAN?????

maxverstappen1 thank you? i think?

pascaleleclerc dinner will be at 6 when you are back in monaco

maxverstappen1 yes ma'am

charles_leclerc MAMAN WHOSE SIDE ARE YOU ON????

.

#max verstappen #formula one #f1 #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x y/n #max verstappen fic #max verstapppen one shot #formula one x reader #formula one x you #formula one x y/n #formula one fic #formula one one shot #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 one shot

[honourdoesart]

Actions have consequences (Simon 'Ghost' Riley X GN Civilian! Spouse! Reader) Part 1

Summary: In a heated argument between the two of you, Simon says something he will regret for the rest of his life.

CW: Simon being an asshole, Swearing, yelling, emotional hurt, heavy angst, car accident, descriptive writing of injury, Character death (?)

Simon truly wanted to be a good husband.

But nothing ever seemed to go smoothly in his life. From his fucked-up childhood, his own demons, to his role as the infamous Ghost. Everything had to eventually come to bite him in the ass.

You, his loving spouse, had always tried to ease his pain in any way that you could. It would vary from cuddling on the couch, to taking him somewhere to lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by. However, he'd been away longer. The world beyond the walls of his cozy home made him more bitter, jaded, and cruel when he returned home.

It was today that he finally snapped.

It was a small disagreement at first, something that had already felt foreign to you. Then it escalated. The both of you kept just kept going back and forth, spitting venom at each other from a supply with an unknown source.

"All I have been trying to do this whole time is make sure that you don't have to deal with the pain alone. I'm only trying to fucking help, Simon!" You yell with hot tears streaming down your face, the grip on your shirt so tight it makes your knuckles turn white.

"Marrying you was a mistake." He snarls. The way your face twists into an expression of pure horror at his words makes him want to take it all back. A choked sob leaves your trembling body as you bolt into the direction of the door. You ignore the frantic calls of your husband as you snatch your jacket and the car keys in one swift motion, not even bothering to look back as you slam the door in his face.

You make your way to the red sports car, unlocking the vehicle before plopping yourself down in the driver's seat. There was no going back now. You start the car, glancing to the side at your shared home with Simon one last time before you hit the gas.

"Fuck…" You whimper while running a hand over your tear-stained face. Simon's words echo through your mind over and over again, the feeling of knives stabbing into your heart becoming more and more evident with each and every loop.

'Marrying you was a mistake.'

Your eyes dart to the side as you catch a flash of bright lights, the booming horn of a truck being the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Simon sat on the couch, fingers dinging into his hair, as the tears finally stopped. It had been an hour since you stormed out the door, the look of pure horror on your face branded into his mind like the scars that decorated his body. How could he have said that to you? You, the love of his life, were the only person who had let him feel human in the times he needed it most.

"I'm such a fucking idiot." He scolded himself while smacking the sides of his head. The sound of his phone buzzing on the coffee table was the only thing that brought him out of his self-pity. He reached out to the obnoxious device that tried to get his attention, turning it around to find the word 'unknown' flashing readily on the screen.

Alarm bells began to go off in his brain as he pressed down to answer the call. A sweet elderly voice was greeting him from the other side. "Hello? Is this Mr. Riley? I am calling from the Clementine Churchill Hospital." The moment the word 'hospital' registered in Simon's brain, he immediately froze.

"Sir?" The voice on the other side called again, to which this time he did respond. "Yes, you are speaking to him. Why did you call me?" Deep down, he already knew why. "Your spouse has been in a car accident. Do you have the possibility to come over?"

Simon's heart stopped beating.

The time between him rushing to the hospital and finally reaching your room was all but a blur to him. He now sat at your bedside, tears streaming down his face as he looked at the damage he had caused. You looked so frail, all wrapped up in bandages, with all different types of tubes and machinery hooked up to you.

There was only one thought that crossed Simon's mind at this very moment. It was all his fault.

If he hadn't yelled at you, if he hadn't let you walk out of that door, you would've been cuddled up on the couch together. You would be smiling at him, those beautiful eyes he came to love looking up at him with pure joy when you told him about your day. But you weren't. You were lying here, fighting for your life. All because of him.

"Sweetheart? I don't know if you can hear me… but I-" Simon had to swallow as he felt his world crumble around him. "I'm so sorry, baby. I should've never allowed myself to say something so fucking horrible to you." Hot tears streamed down his face as he reached out to caress your cheek. "Please… please don't go. I can't-I can't lose anyone else." Simon wept as he held onto your hand, his lips brushing against your bandaged knuckles.

"Please…" He kept begging. He was hoping that someone, anyone, would hear his plea not to take you away from him.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod x reader #gender neutral reader #no use of y/n #HonourDoesWriting

[polarisjisung]

SILENT TREATMENT

synopsis: your boyfriend broke some guy's nose for you, but what he doesn't realise is he also broke his promise to you

wc: 0.9k

pairings: bf!jeno x fem!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: mention of blood like once (feel the need to mention I don't want to romanticise violence 💀)

notes: jeno lee is driving me insane.

Jeno doesn't like it, the silence. He liked to hear you ramble about nonsensical things, the sound of your awkward chatter filling the room, not the incessant pattering of rain against the roof above.

That's the first sign, he figures

On most days, you'd warn him before pressing an alcohol soaked cotton swab against his wounds, delicately pressing down on his jaw with a worried stare. Today you grip his chin firmly, tilting his head upwards and swiping over the cut less gently than before.

That's the second.

The air is cold coming in through the open bathroom window, the dim lighting not sufficient for him to make out your features, when you step a little further away, but still just enough for him to notice the way your nostrils flare and you bite at your lip when reaching for the antiseptic gel kept in the cupboard to your right.

Three of three, he thinks, and jeno comes to the only valid conclusion there is.

Your usually talkative, enthusiastic, and bubbly self now so cold and stand offish, it only meant one thing, something you could argue the lee found entertaining judging by the innocent smile on his lips.

"Are you angry at me?"

A glare is the only response jeno gets.

Not angry enough to leave him to tend to his own wounds, he figures, so really just how angry could you be?

"ow, it hurts" he whines cautiously, taking ahold of your hand as it passes over the deep red, bloody incision in his bicep— which by the way, was doing nothing to help you maintain your rage.

your eyes, however, don't widen, and your lips don't move forward into a pout, you don't react.

nothing except pulling your hand back.

maybe you were a little angrier than he thought.

"silent treatment huh?" he seems amused, a short chuckles escaping his busted lip as you  disinfect the wound, the laugh echoing through the room.

You couldn't stay mad at him, not for long at least, jeno knew that much, so despite watching you walk away to replace the first aid kit just where you found it, ready to use the next time jeno got himself like this, he knows he hasn't got a thing to worry about

Equally, you know jeno just as well, and you know that walking anywhere in his reach would end in you wrapped up in his arms, being showered with soft sweet apologetic kisses like always

Only you both realise your phone is left forgotten on the counter beside him, and if bothering your boyfriend after a long day wasnt on your list of things to do, scrolling for unnecessarily long hours through twitter certianly was.

In hopes to outsmart him you try and lunge to grab the device, only to find yourself in the very position you imagined, lee jeno's strong arms wrapped around your waist, sweet brown eyes staring back.

"can't run now can you baby?"

You scoff, only managing to turn your face away from his— getting uncaged from his arms was far beyond you.

Jeno let's his head fall into the crook of your neck, your floral perfume overtaking the medicinal smell in the air as he pecks the corner of your lips, slowly tracing your jawline with soft kisses until you finally turn to face him again.

"I'm sorry" he whispers, calloused, bruised hands holding your chin with utmost tenderness. The rough skin of his thumb traces over your lower lip, a soft kiss placed there once again.

"you said you wouldn't"

jeno pauses, confused.

"you promised you would stop"

the desperate tone in your voice is clear as day, and it doesn't take jeno much longer to realise, this wasn't about what he'd done, it was about what he'd said he wouldn't do

the cracks in your shaky voice are enough for the bitter taste of guilt to bubble in his stomach and rise to the tip of his tongue, your glossy eyes staring back, disappointed

"I'm sorry" he sighs, eyebrows furrowing as he stares down at you, "I'm so so sorry my sweet girl."

The hair messily sprawled across your forehead is pushed to the side by his index finger, an apologetic kiss pressed to your temple. Jeno's hand is placed at the crown of your head, soothingly passing his fingers through your hair when you're pulled forwards into his chest, resting your arms at his side as you let your weight fall onto him.

"Please, don't get hurt because of me" your hands reach for his, and jeno realises you're asking him once again, to promise he wouldn't do it—this time he doesn't know if he can.

"I can't stand it." his tone differs from the sweet one he uses with you, or the mocking one he'd taken on earlier, now he spits harsh words at the floor, eyes rolling instinctively. "those scumbags talking about my pretty girl like that."

you notice the way his fist tightens, the plasters you'd just placed over his knuckles slipping off his skin in seconds.

"if you can fight them for me" with a cold hand against his cheek, you reach up to guide his eyes back to meet yours, "can't you, not, fight them for me too?"

he smiles— you giggle, the very man who'd just taken on another 2 guys almost twice his size just a few minutes ago now looked at you with a wide grin and two crescent moons in place of his eyes.

"I'll try" and suddenly you wear a smile just as wide as his "I'd do anything for you"

You don't doubt it.

#lee jeno #jeno x y/n #jeno x reader #jeno x you #nct jeno #nct x female reader #nct x y/n #nct x reader #nct x oc #nct x you #nct dream #nct dream jeno #nct dream x y/n #nct dream x you #nct dream x reader #nct dream x oc #nct fluff #jeno fluff #jeno #lee jeno x reader #nct

[youaintnothinbuta]

Could you possibly do something where Feyd and y/n are Wed and while he tends to his duties as Na-Baron y/n decides to look around and runs into Rabban and attempts to make and ally and while Feyd is looking for y/n he sees this and f*cks you in his brothers chambers and continues even when his brother walks and threatens him into watching. Love you (not in a creepy way) 😌😌

Love u too (not in a creepy way)!! I hope you don’t mind but the voices took over and told me to make Rabban sort of the opposite of an ally 😋

“You'll watch, and you'll learn that you will never win.” — feyd rautha x reader

Summary: see request^^

Pairing: feyd rautha x fem!reader

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, graphic violence (not towards reader), fighting, blood, injury, (all not aimed at reader) probably typos :/

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

You wandered through the labyrinthine corridors of the Harkonnen residence, your footsteps echoing off the cold stone walls. As Feyd-Rautha's wife, you were no stranger to the opulent decorations and intricate architecture of the for lack of a better word, palace, that you called home, but you still found yourself getting lost in its winding passages every once in a while.

Feyd was often busy, caught up in his Na-Baron duties, leaving you to your own devices. You didn't mind, really. It gave you the freedom to explore, to discover hidden nooks and secret gardens that even the most seasoned residents might not know about.

As you turned a corner, you came face to face with Rabban Harkonnen, Feyd's older brother, who was just stepping out of his chambers. His thick, brutish features twisted into a scowl, and you could sense the weight of his gaze upon you.

“Ah, Feyd’s little wife,” he rumbled, his voice like thunder in the confined space. “The little Na-Baroness, all alone and unattended.”

“Drop the act, Rabban. I’m just talking a walk.”

Rabban snorted, his eyes roving over your body. “What is it exactly that he sees in you?” He spoke quietly, attempting to insult you.

You felt a shiver run down your spine as Rabban's eyes roved over your body, his gaze lingering on your curves. You tried to step back, but Rabban was too quick, his massive hand closing around your wrist like a vice.

“Let go of me,” you fought.

“Oh, I don't think so,” Rabban purred, his hot breath washing over your face. “I've been wanting to get my hands on you for a long time, and now that Feyd's not around to protect you... well, I think it's time we got to know each other a little better.”

As always, Feyd-Rautha appeared from behind you with perfect timing, his eyes blazing with fury as he watched you struggle in his brother’s grip.

“Rabban, you bastard,” Feyd snarled, his voice low and deadly. “Let her go.”

Rabban didn't even flinch, his grip on you tightening. “Oh, come now, Feyd,” he sneered. “You know I've always wanted her.“

Feyd took a step forward, his hand on the hilt of his dagger. “I'll kill you, Rabban,” he warned.

Rabban just laughed, his eyes never leaving yours. “You'll do no such thing, little brother,” he sneered.

Rabban liked to play this tough guy game. That was the difference between him and Feyd. Rabban liked to appear angry and threatening to everyone, even his family. That’s not to say he never truly was angry though. He was, always at Feyd, who was a smarter, stronger and more respected, despite being younger than him. Feyd however, actually was threatening to everyone, except you, of course.

You smiled at Feyd, feeling complete protection despite being in the arms of his brother.

With a swift, deadly motion, he drew a blade from his belt and plunged it into Rabban's shoulder, just above the collarbone, instantly, his grip on you was released. Rabban's eyes widened in shock as he realized he couldn't reach the blade to pull it out.

Feyd's voice was low and menacing. “You should have kept your hands to yourself, Rabban. Now, you have a choice to make. You can watch us, or... the blade goes deeper.”

Rabban's face twisted in rage and pain, but he knew he was trapped. Feyd's grip on the blade remained unyielding, his free arm welcoming you into his embrace. With a cruel smile, Feyd dragged you towards Rabban's bed, the velvet drapes billowing around you like a dark cloud. Rabban's was dragged along by the blade, his gaze burning with hatred and humiliation.

Feyd's voice was a cold, calculated whisper. “You'll watch, Rabban. You'll watch, and you'll learn that you will never win.”

The blade remained lodged in Rabban's shoulder, a constant reminder of Feyd's power and control. You knew that if Rabban tried to move, the blade would be shoved deeper, a cruel and merciless punishment.

“My darling girl,” Feyd growled, his hands roaming your body. He wasted no time bringing a couple fingers between your thighs, rubbing softly as he kissed you. You felt a rush of excitement, as Feyd pulled you closer. You reached your hand out to his body, pressing against his growing erection, eliciting a growl from him.

Feyd encouraged your touch, pressing you onto his brother’s bed. Rabban's presence seemed to egg him on, his brother's gaze a twisted, voyeuristic thrill. That’s another thing Feyd had that Rabban didn’t — a sex life. Feyd continued to ravage you, stripping himself and you of all clothing. Rabban's eyes locked onto yours, a cruel glint in their depths. Rabban's face twisted into a snarl, but he didn't move, didn't intervene, as Feyd continued to take you, right there in his brother's chambers.

“Nice and wet for me, princess,” Feyd breathed, testing your waters with his fingertips before lining the tip of his cock up to your sex.

You let out a gasp as his length filled you up, you felt your muscles being stretched out around him. You would never get used to his size. The burn was welcome, a familiar feeling you hated to love. A cry escaped your lips, Feyd kissing you, mumbling encouragement as he let you adjust.

“That’s it, there you go,” Feyd mumbled, feeling you relax around him. He began to thrust, slowly. Feyd was draconian, and sadistic, evident in the way he made eye contact with his brother as he fucked you. His cock repeatedly brushed over your g spot, making you whimper in pleasure. He licked his thumb, coating it in his saliva before pressing it to your clit, drawing over it just the way you liked. For Feyd, sex was always about you. Never him. Even when he just needed to rough you, or punish you, it was never about depriving you of pleasure, but rather, overwhelming you with it.

“There's my good girl,” he praised, your hips beginning to match his rhythm.

“Oh my god, don't stop.” You moaned, trying to get your legs even further apart, wanting Feyd as deep inside of you as he could be. It wasn't long before your orgasm started to build, Feyd squeezing your nipple between his teeth as he held your head down to the bed, fucking you like an animal.

Feyd felt your walls began to clench and release around him, he knew that feeling well, he knew you were about to come. He sped up his thrusts, trying to bring himself to the edge of release too, wanting to cum with you.

“Come,” he growled in your ear. His words sent you over the edge, and you came hard. Your inner muscles gripped him tight, he groaned as he bit down on your shoulder, filling you up with his seed. He continued to work your clit, stroking the tiny bud until you cried out again in pleasure, your orgasm peaking yet again as his cum continued to spurt inside of you.

He continued you stroke you through your release, until slowly pulling out of you. He stood, panting as he made eye contact with his brother. He walked over to him, his cock still twitching as his blood flow gradually calmed. Without a word, Feyd buried the blade hilt deep into Rabban’s shoulder, the sound of metal scraping against bone echoing through the room. Rabban's eyes widened in agony as he screamed, his body arching backward in a futile attempt to escape the pain.

Feyd's face was a mask of cold, calculated cruelty, his eyes glinting with a malevolent intensity. He leaned in close to Rabban's ear, his voice a low, menacing whisper.

“Thinking you had a choice. Laughable. You should have kept your mouth shut, brother. You will never have what’s mine.”

Rabban's screams grew louder, his body thrashing against the cold ground as Feyd twisted the blade, ensuring it was lodged deep within his shoulder. You watched in horror, and yet, sadistically, enjoyed the way Feyd would quite literally stop at nothing to protect and show his love for you.

Feyd finally withdrew the blade, his movements slow and deliberate. With a flick of his wrist, Feyd sent the blade spinning across the floor, its tip clattering against the cold stone on the far side of the room, leaving tiny blood spots in its wake.

As Rabban's cries of outrage and humiliation continued to echo through the chamber, Feyd turned his attention to you, his movements calm and deliberate as he helped you to dress. His fingers brushed against your skin delicately, as he fastened the intricate clasps and ties of your gown. His touch was gentle, tender, a stark contrast to the brutal intensity of his passion just moments before.

Once you were fully clothed, Feyd turned his attention to himself. He adjusted his attire to his body, his eyes never leaving yours as he worked. When he was finished, he offered you his arm.

“Shall we, my darling?” he asked, his voice low and smooth, as if the scene that had just played out had never occurred.

You took his arm, a small smile gracing your face as you realised just how much you were enjoying something you really shouldn’t be. Feyd led you out of Rabban's chambers, the sound of his brother's angry cries and threats fading into the distance as you left the room behind.

#feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha x reader #feydrautha #feyd oneshot #feyd imagine #feyd x you #feyd rautha #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x oc #feyd x reader #feyd smut #feyd rautha smut #feyd fanfiction #feyd #feyd rautha x yn #you x feyd rautha #you x feyd #yn x feyd rautha #yn x feyd #austin butler feyd rautha #dune part two #dune 2024 #dune part 2 #dune #dune fanfiction #feydrautha x reader #feydrautha x you #feydrautha x yn #y/n x feyd #y/n x austin

[angelltheninth]

Better Than Shower Thoughts

Pairing: Dad's Best Friend!Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, shower sex, dirty talk, name calling, talking on the phone, masturbation, secret relationship, rough sex

Word count: 1k

A/N: Commission! Of course Toji would be this kind of pervy motherfucker.

There were few days you looked forward to then when your dad announced his trips and asked Toji to visit from time to time to make sure you were okay. He wasn't gonna leave his daughter all alone, anything could happen to you. Toji, being the good friend, always agreed, always called your dad to tell him when he arrived and telling him everything's okay.

You didn't know when he would visit so most of the time you were left to your own devices. It had been a long day without as much as a call from him, the only ones you talked to were your friends at the university. So you decided that it was a good time to take a shower, and get rid of some pent up stress you had left over.

As soon as the warm water hit your body you let out a loud groan. You didn't feel like wasting much time, your fingers pushing in deep into your pussy as you imagined it was Toji's cock. "Toji." You sighed, legs spreading, back against the tile wall and the other hand playing with your breast. "Faster." Toji was never this gentle, it was what you loved about him the most, he wasn't clueless like the guys you hooked up with before either, he knew exactly what to do to make you see stars.

"I think she's in the shower. I can hear the water running?" You jumped at the sound of Toji's voice. He was standing at the door, phone to his ear, cock in hand and smirking at you, "Yeah, no problem. Do you want me to get her something to eat while she's up there? Might be a nice surprise. I know for a fact that she likes my surprises."

That was supposed to be it, he was supposed to hang up just then and set the phone aside, instead he stepped into the shower, fully clothed. Your mouth feel open when he motioned you to turn around.

"What are you do-" His hand clamped around your mouth, reminding you he was still on the phone. You had to stay quiet. Or maybe not.

"Hey mind if I watch some porn at your place? I'll be careful not to get caught. Besides your daughter's still upstairs, she can't sneak up on me." He turned you around and stepped up closer, his cock pressing against your ass, "Thanks, I get a bit bored here all by myself."

As Toji pushed his cock into you your fingers were pushed out, instead digging into the hand on your hip. Toji didn't wait for you to give him the green light, as soon as he was a few inches in he started thrusting in and out, making your cunt spread and squeeze around him.

He put the phone farther from you both as he leaned in, thick cock pushing in all the way to the balls, "What a filthy little slut I have. You like my cock fucking you?" You nodded and pushed your hips back against his, the slickness of the shower making your ass slippery against him but still making enough noise to echo around the bathroom. "What do you need?"

"Harder. I need it hard. Been waiting all day for you, Toj-" His hand closed around your mouth again. You moaned against it, still loud despite the barrier.

"The little slut is getting railed. Wish I was the one doing it. Fuck, her pussy looks amazing like that." Toji commented snapping his hips into yours with force. "I'm not gonna tell you the title, you fucking pervert." He was one to talk, "But I can turn it up for you, she sounds really nice." His hand left your mouth when he put the phone closer to you, letting your moans be heard freely for a few seconds. "Hear how vocal this one is? Ah, and listen to that pussy get fucked." Next the phone was right under your cunt, your slick dripping onto the phone screen as he continued to fuck you.

This was still your secret, you were still safe, "It feels so good. Speed up, come on, you're not gonna break me."

"Yeah, bitch is a real cumwhore from the looks of it. Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. I'm getting hard and your daughter's upstairs. You know I'd never do anything bad in front of her. I'll, hang up, I think I heard the water turn off. Okay, talk to you after I'm done here." The call ended and Toji was now free to handle you as he pleased, his fingers reaching to tease your clit, "Naughty girl, you didn't even stop to think we could get caught. But then again you can't think when you have my cock in you can you? Anyone could walk in here and you'd still be glad you're getting fucked by me. What if it's one of you friends? Or one of those useless guys you let fuck you? As far as I'm concerned they could use a lesson. Watch you get fucked by a real man."

None of that was what you wanted to happen but the idea of it made your cunt flood with arousal. You couldn't stop your orgasm, your hips from bucking, smacking back into Toji's, the feeling of his cock too good to think about anything else.

"What was that you said before? That I wasn't gonna break you? You look pretty cockbroken to me, sweetheart." Toji decarded so with pride, "Give me your neck, I want to leave at least one reminder of me on your body."

"What? But, my dad, he'll see it for sure."

"Yes." He dragged his lips up your neck, "And he'll know then that his daughter is a whore. He might even ask me to stop by more often to make sure you're not behaving badly. Can you imagine the disappointed looked in his eyes when he sees this mark, not knowing it was his best friend who put it there and used his precious daughter like the whore she was?"

Even with your mind protesting against the thoughts your body responded the way Toji wanted. Your pussy spasmed, tightened, orgasm coming in a string of broken sobs as he railed your slutty cunt. This was it, this was what you wanted, what you needed, what no one else could know you craved.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #toji smut #toji x you #toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk headcanons #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagine #x female reader

[yokohamapound]

POV: You're Fyodor's perfect little housewife and I've been playing with @honeydazai's Husband Fyodor bot way too much. This is Vee's fault. And @amostimprobabledream too, now that I think about it.

Characters: Fyodor Dostoevsky

Contents: afab!reader, femme clothing, gendered terms "wife", "girl", NSFW, controlling relationship, dom-sub themes, sex toys

Fyodor Dostoevsky

The bubbling hiss of sauce simmering in the pan covers the sound of Fyodor's return. Steam from the stovetop billows in warm, savoury clouds against your face whilst you prepare supper. You've twisted your hair up off your neck to keep it out of the way, but little strands escape to curl damply against your forehead and around your ears.

He closes the front door behind him with care, sliding the bolt home. He leaves his coat hanging on the wrought-iron stand by the door, his ushanka on the hallway table. Silent footsteps proceed along the hall, following the delicious smells drifting from the kitchen.

Fyodor likes to sneak in sometimes, mostly for his own amusement. He wants to see what his little myshka gets up to while he isn't home, and more importantly, it keeps you on your toes. You'll never know exactly when he might simply walk into a room or appear behind you, so it behoves you to be the ideal little housewife at all times. It is a role you've taken to whole-heartedly. 

Today, Fyodor is treated to the sight of you standing in the kitchen, preparing dinner in anticipation of his imminent return. His sharp violet gaze is heavy lidded as he takes in the vulnerable arch of the back of your neck, a single tendril of hair lying against your nape where it has escaped your chignon.

An apron edged in frills has been tied over your dress du jour—white today, with a tight bodice and a skirt that flares out over your hips, stopping in a froth of silk midway down your thighs.

And then...then there are the stockings that sheathe your legs in gossamer-thin silk, lace tops clinging lovingly to your thighs. Your legs are turned out beautifully thanks to the high heels that keep you ever so slightly off balance, like a newborn fawn—graceful and lovely and oh, so vulnerable.

That isn't the only thing keeping you off balance, of course. Fyodor is a chessmaster. He always has more than one avenue of attack.

Fyodor reaches into his pocket.

His long fingers curl around a small, rectangular device. It's deceptively simple, just a little black box, with two buttons and a dial. His thumb brushes the dial, nudging it up a few notches.

The effect is immediate.

A gasp echoes through the expansive kitchen. You stiffen in place, clamping your soft thighs together. Your hands fumble, grip the counter, and your head droops like a wilting flower. Fyodor's smile widens, his eyes darkening as he twists the dial higher, knowing exactly what it will mean for you. 

You see, under that pretty little dress of yours, there's a pair of panties in the same lace, bridal-white, that matches your stockings. He knows, because he picked them out for you this morning, then slipped a special little reminder inside them, with the express order that it not be removed.

A paired device nestles up against your swollen, aching clit, buzzing and vibrating without cease. Poor thing, you've had to endure it all day, through all of your chores and wifely duties, the intensity subject to Fyodor's whim, the patterns erratic so it can never be ignored.

This new wave pulses through you, heat coiling along your spine as you rock your hips, trying desperately for release. Unaware your tormenter is standing a few feet away behind you, enjoying your predicament. The beastly little vibrator shudders against you, humming on and off, kept in place by the sodden lace and the weight of Fyodor's authority.

"Careful." Fyodor's richly-accented, amused voice lilts through the kitchen. "Don't let the dinner burn, darling."

Your head snaps up. You go to turn around, but he merely pushes the intensity up some more until you can hardly stand. All you can do is tremble, leaning your weight on your arms where they rest on the polished countertop.

"W-Welcome home, Fedya," you manage, your voice shaking. It wouldn't do to forget your manners, no matter the torment he's inflicting on you. You wouldn't want to make him decide you need...correcting. "I..."

"Such a good, obedient wife," your husband, your master, muses. "Dinner almost on the table as soon as I get home. It smells delicious, my love."

"Th-thank—"

Before you can do anything else, you find yourself penned in against the countertop. Fyodor's hands planted either side of you, his breath warming the back of your neck.

"There is something else I have an appetite for, before dinner," he says, his voice low, smoky, in your ear. "I think you can satisfy both, darling."

The word 'darling' is punctuated by a kiss, cool lips pressing to the top of your spine, revealed where the neckline of your dress dips a little at the back.

"I trust you don't object, myshka?"

Not only do you know better than to deny him, your body is all but begging for release. All day you've been kept on the edge, a fraction of an inch from toppling over into sweet, carnal bliss, only to be denied at the last instant as the toy shuts off or changes pattern. You know better than to take matters into your own hands. Even if he's busy with work, Fyodor will know.

He may not truly have a god complex, but he has you convinced of his omnipotence.

You bob your head, an obedient, jerky nod. Fyodor lets out a low, satisfied hum. 

"Good girl," he says. 

He reaches out a hand and flicks the stove off. He doesn't want you to move from where you are, so perfectly positioned for him, but he doesn't want to spoil all your hard work by letting the dinner burn. How thoughtful he is.

Fingertips brush against the backs of your thighs, the touch bordering on icy through the fragile lace. Fyodor traces the backs of his fingers down the sleek line of your thigh, causing the limb to shake. 

Or it might be the incessant pressure against your clit, the syncopated buzzing that makes heat pulse low through your belly. A soft, needy sound leaves you, one that makes him chuckle. Fyodor’s hand slips between your thighs, tracing along the lace of your underwear. You jolt, which only forces you against the vibrator again. 

A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. Look at you, his poor darling, with nowhere to move that won’t cause you more pleasure. 

Slender fingers stroke your slit through the soaked fabric, fingertips tapping against the toy, pushing it against you just that little bit more. Gripping the edge of the counter, it’s all you can do to keep your footing. Heat simmers underneath your skin with nowhere to go. Restless, you ache, you crave. 

“Tell me, my darling,” Fyodor intones, his voice right by your ear, his breath tickling your cheek. “How has your day been? Did you like my little love token?”

He brushes aside that straying tendril of hair to kiss your throat, lips pressing against where your pulse races just beneath the thin, vulnerable skin. He can feel your voice reverberate through your throat as you utter one, obedient syllable.

“Yes.”

“Good girl,” he all but purrs. “I hope it made you feel appreciated.” An amused hum. “But now your husband would like some appreciation in return. What do you say?”

It doesn’t matter what you say, because his solid form presses into you from behind. While not the most physically imposing man, he holds a power and gravitas that is more than enough to pin you in place when combined with his superior height. You’re far too much Fyodor’s darling little wife to try and wriggle away. 

Fyodor’s excited breath tickles the back of your neck. Long fingers slip into your underwear, stroking your soaked core. A delicate touch, at odds with the insistent, mechanical pressure against your clit. He tugs the lace aside.

The blunt head of his cock slides against you, brushing against your slit, teasing the vibrator still trapped against that throbbing bundle of nerves. 

“Please…” A needy whine. Perfectly pathetic, and exactly what he wants. 

“Well, when you ask so sweetly…”

Fyodor’s cock slips inside you in a single slick, smooth thrust. He plunges in slow, letting himself indulge in how your walls part along his length, twitching and rippling from the constant stimulation you’ve had to endure. He laughs, an edge of a moan in the sound. 

“Absolutely divine,” he says, low, husky. “Dorogaya.”

Thus you find yourself, teetering in your heels, skirt flipped up at the back, bent over the kitchen counter with your devilish husband’s cock stretching your core. 

Fyodor sees no need to hold himself back or give you time to adjust. You’re more than ready for him, slick glistening on the insides of your thighs. You need this. You deserve this, for being so well behaved. 

His thrusts are deep, rhythmic. Slow at first, to force you to feel every inch as it glides in and out of you, to prolong that moment of desperation before you get what you really want. You can’t see his face, but you know exactly what his expression will be. His eyes eyes hooded, a self-satisfied smirk pulling at his mouth. Completely sure of his own power and delighted with his possession. 

Every push of his hips presses your clit against the vibrator, until it throbs and burns with the constant stimulation. You can feel it now, that hollowness in the pit of your stomach, the tightness in the small of your back. So close you can taste it. 

Fyodor’s hand wraps around your throat. Not a tight grip, just holding it, caressing your vulnerable neck with his fingertips. His lips brush your ear, cool against your feverish skin.

“Perhaps I should leave you little gifts more often, if this is how I am to be received when I come home.”

The only answer Fyodor receives is a wordless whine. His free hand settles on your waist, pushing you down, folding your torso down against the cool marble, as he claims what he wants. Taking you in the kitchen that you work so hard in. Why shouldn’t it be the scene of your reward, as well?

Faster now, cock barrelling back into you with each thrust as he abandons showmanship for the sheer, hedonistic pleasure of taking what’s his, of using you for his own gratification when yours is already guaranteed. The sound of his low, laboured breaths mix with your gasps and squeals, with the muffled thump of your hips against the countertop, with the steady buzz against your clit. 

His thumb touches the dial, pushing it to an extent that leaves you bucking. Your voice is hoarse, your body shuddering with overstimulation and desperation as Fyodor fucks you to his heart’s content. 

All day. All day with that goddamned thing teasing and torturing you, and now this? It’s too much for anyone to take, and Fyodor knows that all too well. He could have predicted down to the second you would let loose a ragged moan. He hisses with pleasure as your cunt contracts around him, your hips bucking, accidentally fucking yourself on him as you ride out the waves of release. 

The force of it steals the breath from you, leaving you weak and boneless, upper body draped across the counter, barely able to feel your legs. Fyodor’s final thrust plunges deep, sinking his cock as far it’ll go, his seed pouring into you. 

He lets out a soft, condescending laugh at the mess he’s made of you. Your hair falling from its style, your skin dewy with sweat, dress rumpled, his cum slowly dripping out of you. He pulls your chin up, turning your head so he can give you a kiss. 

“I’ll take dinner in my study, darling.”

He leaves you to compose yourself before you resume dinner preparations. You lay there a moment, listening to the sound of his footsteps die away. Slowly, you pick yourself up, still shaking as you tug your dress and underwear back into place. Taking the time and the reflection in the teapot to tidy your hair, dab away the sweat, refresh your lipstick.

You almost drop your lipstick as something jolts you. The fucking vibrator, right where he left it. A soft hum now, just enough to stimulate your clit, to make you aware of it. With unsteady steps, you go to fetch the plates, wondering what will await you in the study.

He’s not done with you yet.

#yokohama pound #bsd #bsd x reader #bsd smut #fyodor dostoevsky bsd #fyodor x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader

[wonijinjin]

can’t get enough

author’s note: this fic is part of the 200 followers event, go check it out!:)

synopsis: you might think you are too clingy, but jeonghan can’t get enough of you.

word count: 0.7k | genre: fluff, bit of comfort | pairing: jeonghan x gn! reader | warnings: none

“hello angel. what’s up?” jeonghan’s voice echoed in the phone, shushing the boys in the background while waiting for your answer. “hello, are you here?” he questioned again, not hearing your voice, only silence. “actually, nevermind. have fun!” you whispered into the device, hoping to mask the sadness hidden in your words. “i know something is wrong. please tell me?” he stated in a serious tone, knowing how you were not telling him something you wanted to. “i miss you.” you admitted. he could hear the sleep in your voice, waiting for him to come home; they were on their monthly outing with the boys, the time already pressing 2am. “i know angel, i miss you too.” he answered with a sad tone. “but don’t get me wrong i love how you spend time with the boys baby. you should.” you quickly added, scared that he might think you were chaining him to yourself. “don’t lie. you hate it. you love it more when you are here too, don’t you, angel?” he giggled, knowing how much you adored his best friends. “i will come home soon, we are just finishing up.” you smiled softly at his reply, he always listened to your worries so well, dealing with you being clingy on a daily basis. you felt kind of bad about your constant nagging, but you couldn’t help it; you missed him the moment he stepped out of the apartment. “i’m gonna go guys!” he shouted to whom you believed were the other members as you could hear the creaking of his chair. “see you soon angel.” he hung with that, leaving you in silence again.

“i’m home!” jeonghan shouted into the distance, hoping you didn’t fall asleep and he didn’t wake you up if you did. he walked to the kitchen, seeing you baking something; it was common for you to bake when bored or stressed, he knew you were anxious about him getting home safely at this hour in the night. “hmmm, what are you baking this time, pretty?” he questioned while letting out a soft hum of approval upon smelling the sweet aroma in the air. “take a guess. it is one of your favourites.” you said while turning around to smear some of the frosting on his nose. “hey! i rush home to you and you put frosting on me?” he raised a brow, but you could see the grin hiding in the corner of his mouth. however your smile disappeared; the feeling of guilt not dying down even after making his favourite cookies. “im sorry i pushed you to come home sooner. i shouldn’t have.” you whispered with a frown. he quickly took on a serious and worried expression. “no no angel i would’ve left them not long after anyways. please don’t apologise. i get it, you worry about me.” he replied while tasting the cream on his nose. “by the way this is delicious as always.” he chuckled, seeing how your face lit up at his compliment. “are you sure you didn’t mind? i don’t want to be pushy or anything, i just love you too much, hannie.” he pulled you into his embrace, slotting your lips into a slow kiss. “of course i didn’t baby. i missed you too actually, these are so much more fun when you are there.” he said while hugging you tightly. you still looked puzzled so he asked you; “what is going on in your pretty little head?” you sighed. “i don’t know, i feel like i’m too much, like too clingy, you know? am i? answer honestly yoon jeonghan!” you threatened with the spoon in your hand, to which a giggle bubbled in his throat. “you are not. baby you are too little even. i cannot get enough of you, if i could i would carry you around in a backpack all the time like a little kitten.” he grinned, kissing your now red cheeks. “okay then, i believe you.” you smiled “but hey, i’m not a pet though!” he picked you up and spun you around in the kitchen, putting you on the countertop, looking right into your eyes, his own sparkling maybe from the wine he had earlier, maybe from being so in love with you. “of course you are not a pet. you are my angel, my princess my everything.”

#wonijinjin #caratsland #seventeen imagines #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #fluff #jeonghan x y/n #jeonghan x you #svt jeonghan #jeonghan x reader #yoon jeonghan #hannie #jeonghan #seventeen jeonghan

[repulsiveliquidation]

One Call Away

bottom! Alexia Putellas x top! Reader

this is just straight up smut. you could consider it a part two of that ramble i wrote a couple days ago.

“Fuck, that’s…fuck…”

Alexia sat on the couch of the apartment with her iPad propped up on the coffee table. She was as naked as the day she was born, clothes strewn all over the couch. It looked thrown around haphazardly like she was in a hurry to get naked. Her fingers dipped into her core, languidly stroking her slick folds. Knees wide open and bent, she slipped a finger into her drooling mouth, coating it in her spit before dragging it through her soaked cunt. In her it went, it met no resistance whatsoever. She had her eyes locked onto her iPad, watching the 15-minute video she had saved.

“ah, fuck bebé! You’re so deep!”

It makes her even wetter when she hears her voice echo through the apartment. She sucks on another finger, cheekily getting a taste of herself from the other that was in her, slipping that back into her dripping hole with a long sigh. She was teasing, building up her pleasure in waves. Feet pressed on the edge of the coffee table, she spread herself wider with a throw pillow propped under her ass. It was a mess, soaked with her syrupy arousal.

“Oh, you like that. Don’t you, you slut?”

She gasped when her finger grazed her spot, her body jolting off the couch in surprise. She grinned at herself, dragging her fingers out of her. She sucked on them, moaning loudly at the pungent taste of herself on her fingers. The video looped itself, starting all over again. After that first time of being filmed, the two of you had curated a little personal stash of sex tapes that were helpful when one or the other was away. Seeing as you had been picked to be on the traveling team to Sweden this week, Ale was left to her own devices. The quickie in bed this morning wasn’t enough for her, she found herself so fucking soaked when she got home from training after you had left for the airport with the team.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well…”

She grabbed the aforementioned cock that was next to her. It was weighty and thick, she knew exactly how this felt inside her, how you felt inside her. She whined, dragging the cock up and down her folds. Suddenly she had an idea. She grabbed her phone and checked the time, grinning happily when she realized that you were probably in the hotel by now. Hoping you had your room to yourself, she searched for your contact and hit the call button. Leaving it on speaker as it rang, she grabbed the cock again and teased the tip into her cunt. It was a little bit of a stretch, one she loved so much.

The call connected, your slightly tired voice reaching her ears. She pushed the cock fully into herself then, her voice stuttering as she answered your call for her.

“Hi baby,” you called, sitting up in bed in your hotel room.  

“A-Are you alone, bonita?” she asked, dragging the dildo in and out of her core achingly slow. The slick sounds weren’t loud, barely able to hear over the phone.

“Yes, I am. Ona is in Lucy and Keira’s room.” Your eyes narrow at her question, leaning back into the middle of your bed.

“Do you maybe want to help your needy girlfriend out? Or would you rather leave her aching and begging for you in her empty apartment?”

“Show me,” you growl, as she switches the call to video on her iPad. The Facetime call shows you in the corner while she watches her chosen sex tape in the back. You groan and throw your head back, leaning forward into the camera. She grabs the end of the dildo and fucks herself with it, whining at the pleasure that surges through her. You’ve texted Ona and told her to stay as long as she wanted to in Lucy’s room, eager to play out Alexia’s fantasies of being a fucking tease from another country.

Alexia squeezes at her breast, moaning louder now. She didn’t slow down her thrusting, dragging the dildo in and out of her faster. Your eyes were hooded, sitting at the desk in the hotel room. She moaned for you, begging for you to let her cum.

“Slow down you slut; being a little fucking whore, aren’t ya Ale? Didn’t I fuck your pretty pussy this morning?”

She slows down the thrusts, looking directly at you in the camera. The video was long forgotten, playing on mute for her to visually enjoy. You were fucking her in the kitchen for this one, pounding into her cunt with vigor and finesse. She hasn’t been able to make breakfast without getting horny since; her thighs rubbing together deliciously when she was making your breakfast this morning despite already having been railed into the mattress just a half hour ago.

“Not enough…” she whined, stilling the cock inside her to flick at her clit. She was so swollen, licking her fingers to rub her nub in soft circles.

“Not enough, huh? What makes you think your behavior today should convince me to let you cum?”

She looks up at you in horror, sitting up a little.

“But-But…”

“Be a good girl and do as I say, I’ll consider it.”

She whines, settling back into the couch awaiting her next orders.

“Take it out.”

“But, bebé–”

“Take. It. Out.” You growl, and she obeys, pulling the dildo out of her with a wet squelch. She looks deep into your eyes, chest heaving slightly.

“Three fingers, around and about. Put them in and I will end this fucking call right now.”

She does as you say, three nimble fingers lazily caressing her slick folds and gaping hole. It winks at you, the tips of her fingers sending shocks through her body. The thrill of you watching her makes her arousal pool beneath her, the pillow under her mentioned earlier could never be used again.

“Slap your clit,” you instruct, voice not even seeming a little affected by her actions. A resoundingly wet slap, followed by a moan rang through the hotel room.

“Give me ten Ale, don’t you dare be gentle,” you huffed at her, voice dropping a little to a deep commanding tone that got Ale to obey so quickly it was concerning.

Unquestioningly, Alexia gives her clit ten hard smacks that resound through the phone. Thank Apple for the great microphones on their devices. She’s shuddering and whining, pussy clenching achingly around nothing.

“Are you close already, Alexia?” you ask, tone utterly unbothered by your girlfriend’s whining. She’s got tears pooling in her eyes, lips bitten as she tries to hold herself together. You’ve moved closer to the screen, eyes fixed on the view of her gaping hole and perked nipples.

“Please bebé…” she begs, tears falling down her cheeks in frustration.

“I asked you a question puta, are you close?” you question again, teeth gnashed down a little. She nods fervently, muttering yeses louder and louder.

“Good. One finger, inside. Now.”

She slips her middle finger into her cunt, cunt so sloppy and loose it barely has resistance. She whimpers softly, biting her other hand to keep her voice down. She adjusts her arm to get her finger in deeper, jolting when she grazes her sweet spot. She looks at you from her eyelashes, your face focused on her and her only. Her heart skipped a beat, her eagerness to obey you doubling.

“Another for me, Ale. You’re being so good, baby girl.”

She slides in a second finger, pumping her middle and ring finger in and out of her pussy faster. You don’t say anything, letting her have a little fun.

“Get your other hand out of your mouth, I want to hear that whore of a voice moan for me.”

She pulls her hand away, reaching back to grip the back of the couch. She gasped and scrunched her face in pleasure, palm grazing over her hypersensitive clit.

“Stop.”

“Huh? Cariño please!”

“Alexia.” Your voice was firm and left her no room for more arguments as she pulled her thick fingers out of her.

“Get the toy.”

She does.

“Suck on it. The least you could do is put on a show for me.”

She bites her lip and cautiously brings the toy to her lips. She licks up it, humming softly when she tastes herself on it. Her pretty lips wrap around the tip as she imagines you at the other end making her take it. She whines, sucking more and more of it into her mouth. You watch intently; she’s making it harder and harder for you to keep your composure and not join her in her pleasure.

She takes it to the base, and a loud gag makes her pull away. She licks up her messy saliva, smiling at you.

“Good girl Ale, my prettiest cocksucker. Always so eager to please.”  

She pants hard, licking her lips slowly patiently awaiting further instruction.

“Go on, put it in. Fuck yourself on my favorite strap. Is that why you picked that one bonita? Because it’s my favorite one to fuck you with?”

“Sí, sí! I love it when you fuck me with this one…”

She ends her sentence and slips the thick toy into her. She sighs, languidly thrusting the dildo in and out of her. she’s extremely hyper-aroused, just a little sensation sends her reeling in for more.

“Fuck, bebé…”

“That feels good, right cariño?”

"¡Muy bien, tu polla se siente tan bien...!"

She was slurring, tongue heavy and head utterly cock-drunk from how long she had been on edge. Her orgasm was fast approaching, fucking herself with the dildo as fast as she could, almost forgetting you were there.

“Alexia,” you call once again, snapping her out of her eagerness to come.

“I didn’t say you could go faster, honey. On your knees, move to the tv.”

She immediately gets on her knees, moving the iPad to face the clear space underneath the TV. She crawls to it, securing the dildo down on the floor.

“Wanna see you ride it, princesa. Exactly how you ride me.” You challenge as she sinks onto the fake cock. Her muscular thighs flex with every bounce, hands grasping her breasts with hard squeezes that make her whine and shudder.

“Good girl, bonita. Such a fucking slut for me aren’t you Alexia?”

“Sí!” she bounces harder, moaning louder than before.

“Who’s slut are you, Alexia?”

The degrading nature of your voice, paired with her full name was doing things to her that she could not explain. She was La Reina, Alexia Putellas. Yet here she was, feeling like a shameless slut as she rode a cock for her lover to watch.

“Yuh-Your slut! I-I’m your slut, Y/N!”

“Cum for me then, mi reina.”

“Fuck!”

She tried to keep riding the cock, hands falling forward to catch herself from falling. It was one of the most intense orgasms of her life, she felt like her entire body was experiencing euphoria. Her legs trembled and quaked with her orgasm, electric shocks coursing through her as she rode out her high. Her eyes saw white for a second, ears ringing so deafeningly she almost missed your voice calling her name with pure adoration.

“Ale? Princesa, please. Are you okay?”

She looked up, throwing her long blonde hair back. she smiled sleepily, licking her lips as she pulled herself off the toy. She scooted back over to the couch, wrapping herself up in a blanket. You smiled, settling back into your bed just as Ona walked back into the room.

“I love you, mi amor. I miss you so much already.”

“I love you too, bebé. Score a goal for me?”

“Of course my love.”

#woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #alexia putellas #fc barca femeni #bottom alexia #alexia putellas smut #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso smut #woso

[improbable-outset]

📂 𝐄𝐧𝐯𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦

↳ 📂 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader

𝐀𝐎3 | 𝐌𝐲 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬 | 𝐒𝐩𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.8k

𝐓𝐖 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐖: Roommate AU, Jealous!Miguel, male masturbation. MINORS DNI 🔞🔞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Miguel has mixed feelings towards your new boyfriend. That was until you came back with very exciting devastating news

It has been a few months since Miguel had been introduced to your new boyfriend. He remembered the day painfully well. You invited your new flame over to watch a movie with him in your room, an adoring look was radiant on your face when you opened the door and greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.

Miguel was in the living room that day, tinkering with some of his work from his lab until was interrupted with your sweetened voice when you showed the lucky guy who managed to claim you. All those days leading upto that moment, he was subjected to you gushing about him and was forced to listen to your rants and endless infatuation until he finally got to see him in person.

The image of you clinging onto his arm and pressing it against your chest with your head resting on his shoulder was burnt into his psyche. You wore one of your special dresses and even touched up on your makeup to enhance your appearance. For a fleeting moment, Miguel imagined what it would be like having you dress up for him like that, but he quickly dismissed the thought.

Miguel had only managed to give a subtle nod in acknowledgement before he quickly averted away, immersing himself in his work. The solitude followed with you leading him back to your bedroom and closing the door, leaving Miguel abandoned in the living room alone with his withering pride.

Weeks go by and Miguel could only watch as your relationship flourished. He couldn’t do anything but support you for the sake of being a good roommate and friend. You’d come home with gifts he had giving you or even bite marks around your neck in the morning after staying over the night at his house. The sight of you being marked by another man, a man that was the embodiment of everything he didn’t have the courage to be, left a bitter pang in Miguel’s gut.

Now he found himself in the familiar confinement of his own room, perched on his bed with the holographic tablet in his hand. The grip on the device was firmer than it should be, and his focus was wavering. He listened to the faint sound that was emanating from your room. He attempted to keep himself distracted with his work on the glowing screen, but his mind was stubbornly fixed on you.

You’ve invited your boyfriend over for the night again and, unfortunately with how thin the walls were, Miguel could hear everything.

It started off with your laughter echoing in the room and now replaced with more lascivious noises. He didn’t have to be in the same room to know what was going on, your begging and moans gave it away as well as the bed repeatedly knocking on the wall.

Every moan he heard from you, that was driven by your boyfriend’s touch, felt like pricking needles, relentlessly deflating his already bruised ego. He cursed himself for even agreeing to be in the apartment while you and your boyfriend were there. A bystander to the unbearable scene.

He knew something like this would happen eventually but he didn’t anticipate it would happen so soon. Too soon to him, anyways. But something inside him was keeping him rooted on the bed, unable to get himself to move. As if hearing your moans from another man wasn’t tormenting enough.

He craned his head to face the side of the room where the sound was coming from, the side where your room bore directly opposite the wall. He shuffled uncomfortably under the covers, fingers digging into his tablet as his frustration grew. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be. His frustration stemmed from his own pride, preventing him from confessing which now lead him to a compromising position.

His thoughts drifted back to the times you had spent together as friends and roommates. Only you managed to find that hairline fracture of vulnerability beneath his stoic demeanour. All those moments seemed pale in comparison to the intimacy he now overheard.

You were always so sweet to him, always willing to assist him whenever you could. You even made him empanadas on his birthday and cooked for him on several occasions.

He knew that sharing a domestic life with you would be a breeze. After everything you have done for him, he should be happy for you and respect your privacy. It was the bare minimum he should give as a friend, especially after everything you’ve done for him.

But he couldn’t help the antipathy feeling that everything you did was just out of the kindness of your heart and being a good roommate — it was painfully clear that there was nothing more to it. He was always there but never truly there in your heart. He wondered if there was a special space for him in your life, or if he would forever remain on the sidelines, an observer of your life and, now, your newfound intimacy.

As he reminisced on his relationship with you, he couldn’t stop himself from recollecting those small moments when you unknowingly exuded a certain charm that got his blood rushing and his cock throbbing unintentionally. Small innuendos that you were oblivious to but he couldn’t stop his mind from racing with thoughts when he observed you.

He recalled that one moment last summer when you were having an ice popsicle that melted down your hand. He watched as you quickly lapped up the sweetened juice from your fingers, your tongue gracefully moving along them, before popping the popsicle back in your mouth, savouring the flavour of the cold treat. It didn’t help that the sun was casting an irresistible golden glow on your skin too.

Another moment that etched his mind was when he came home to see you settled on the couch while leaning on the arm rest. His line of sight dropped to your breasts and how they were pressed together with your arm wrapped around yourself. He had to tear himself away from there before you would notice him gawking.

But even after he left the room, his mind couldn’t break away from the image of his cock sliding and fitting between your breasts, squeazing it as he fucked them, while watching the pre-cum leak down your chest.

Being so lost in his thoughts, Miguel hadn’t realised the heat that was reaching down his crotch until he felt a familiar tightness under his sweatpants. He removed the blanket that covered him to reveal his erection, prominent and visible, under the fabric.

“Mierda,” he groaned. Shame quickly washed over him. Placing the tablet down on the bedside table, he sat up from his bed and ran his hand over his unruly hair.

He let himself get carried away with his imagination that only dug him further in his grave. He really should’ve just left the whole apartment to you so he could have avoided this predicament.

But the frustration and shame he was feeling was quickly replaced with desperation and need for relief. Reluctantly, he reached over the hem of his sweatpants and pulled them down, along with his boxers, to free his aching cock. He hissed, feeling the room's atmosphere settle on his crotch, after being trapped under his clothes like a bondage.

His heart was pulsating hard in his chest as he reached for his length, gripping it firmly. There were several reasons why he really shouldn’t be doing this, why this was a bad idea, but he brought himself too deep into this rabbit hole of his desires that he couldn’t think of one.

He started off with a steady pace, running his hand over it repeatedly up to the top and back down to the base. He could feel his fangs emerge from his canines, something that only happened with high levels of rage or intense pleasure.

“Ay coño-” He moaned lowly before biting down on his lower lip, stifling himself from being too loud. If he could hear everything from your room, there was no doubt you could hear him as well.

He doesn’t usually do this to himself regularly, but after living with you and watching the way you acted towards him and how you carried yourself, he was spellbound.

He squeezed his eyes shut and threw his head back. His mind recalling that one steamy memory of you applying the coconut-scented sunscreen over your exposed skin. Your hands gliding sensually over your exposed collarbone, shoulders and down your thighs and over every curve of your body that Miguel longed to explore with his own hands.

He was fully aware that he was never going to experience that now — the most physical touch he received from you were your hugs that you would give from time to time.

He imagined what it would feel like, kissing your exposed skin as he slowly slipped off each barrier of clothes. He wondered how sensitive you were — Would you squirm under him if he were to touch your delicate areas? Will you moan out his name or tug on his hair when he eats you out?

Speaking of which, your moans from the next room continued on and were now adding an erotic backdrop to his forbidden fantasies, making the scenes that were reeling in his mind more vivid.

He didn’t even want to imagine what your boyfriend was doing to your body right now to get you to moan like that. It would only deflate the bliss he was feeling, and his cock, if he dwelled on that thought too much.

He kept his focus on those specific memories of you driving him insane while continually trying to reach his peak.

He knew your tight cunt would squeeze him better than his hand but it’ll have to do now. He imagined you sweating and panting while under him. You weren’t always good with eye contact so he’d probably have to hold your chin to get you to look at him while thrusting into you.

He would watch your brows crease and your mouth part with every breathy moan as your poor cunt would take in the sheer size of him. Shock, you’d look so adorable being helpless and a mess from him. He’d want to see you shiver under his touch.

He increased his pace, feeling his climax crawling up to him painstakingly slow. Would you arch your back or dig your nail further into his back while taking in his cum? The mere image was enough to tip him over the edge, an overwhelming orgasm that caused his legs to shake.

His cum shot up before running down his knuckles. It continued to spill over his lower abdomen and boxers. He allowed himself to get lost in the heated sensation as he rode out his high.

By the time his senses settled in, he knew he had to dismiss all those thoughts he had of you from his head. The evidence of his recent activities still spilled down his lower abdomen and the back of his hand.

With a defeated sigh, he quickly cleaned himself up and settled back into bed, attempting to drown out the background noise that was still going on the rest of the night.

{{Part 2}}

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel spiderman #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #♦︎— spicy #★— ayrus writes

[disneyprincemuke]

love like this * aa23

alex may be the reason your parents are separating, but he proves to you that soulmates still exist

pairings: alex albon x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of divorce

notes: the alex albon tag is waYYYY too dry and i can't keep waiting!!! so i aM TAKING MATTERS INTO MY OWN HANDS!!! also, inspired by that one scene in the office

(f1 masterlist)

alex was having a great day. he'd woken up with the sun shining brightly on the right side of the bed. to make it even better, he's on his way to spend the day with you.

he had everything planned out: he has a list of activities you could do, movies you could watch, and places to walk at in case the day dragged on too long to stay in. he has a bouquet of flowers pressed against his chest and takeout from your favourite restaurant. he's very excited to finally just lay back with you after a stressful couple of weeks.

that was until you opened the door for him. you were glaring at him like you've never before with your phone pressed up against your ear..

he's in shock when you ignore his lean for a welcoming kiss. you don't even acknowledge the flowers in his hands. you just leave the door open and turn around, walking further into your apartment.

alex walks in hesitantly, slipping off his shoes. typically, he'd leave it by the door under the shoe rack. judging by your mood, however, he neatly places it on the rack.

he loses you in the apartment so he just invites himself in to place his presents on the table.

"love?" alex calls out softly, dragging his feet against the cold tiles of your apartment. "i brought us food."

he finds you in your bedroom, just having ended your phone call. "i got your favourites from your favourite downtown. care to have a meal with me, love?"

you whirl around, now tears in your eyes. "what did you say to my dad?"

alex raises an eyebrow, lips parted in shock at your accusation. he's only met your dad once - 3 days ago after flying in. he knows they clicked because he's found himself a new texting buddy. he's even secured your father tickets to the final race this year, supposedly.

"what do you mean?" alex is careful with his tone. the last thing he wants to do is end up in a fight with you.

"that was my dad on the phone," you point to the device that's on the other side of the bed with your other hand on your hip, "he called me to say that he's filing for a divorce."

alex tilts his head. he's very empathetic, truly, but it's difficult to know what to say to you when he doesn't know what's going on. as far as he knew, he didn't have anything to do with this. "i say this in the lease oblivious way possible... but, why is it me?"

you huff, looking away as tears start to fall out of your eyes. you're very close with your parents and alex knows that. "he said he knew after our dinner that night." you wipe the tears away roughly and look back at him. "what did you say?"

"i," alex trails off at a loss for words. he's trying his best to recall the evening word per word, but nothing comes up. nothing that would warrant your father wanting a divorce from you mother. "my love... i don't know. i didn't say anything to him, i swear!"

"there has to be something." you sound defeated as you drop yourself back into your bed, arms spread out as you stare at the ceiling. "they've been together longer than i've been alive. there's no way this came out of nowhere."

but he really doesn't know what it is. "do you want me to talk to him?"

"no!" you shriek, sitting up quickly at his proposition. "you've done enough, alex! don't talk to my dad!"

he stands at your door, shoulders slumped and mouth gaping wordlessly at you. you do feel bad that you're taking it out on him. but your dad didn't elaborate further when he told you. he said he'll do it in person when he arrives at your apartment.

"i'm sorry," alex finally says. "i don't know what i could have said for this to happen... but i'm so sorry."

the doorbell echoes throughout your apartment, followed by a loud knock that's softened by your distance from the door. you sigh, shaking your head slightly as you get to your feet. "that's my dad."

"okay," alex nods, walking towards your bed. "i will stay here until you've talked. okay?"

you nod, muttering back a soft "okay".

you don't say another word as you pass him. but there's a warmth that explodes within your arm when his hand wraps itself around your elbow.

"i love you," alex says, tilting his head as he anticipates your response.

you nod weakly. "i love you."

the next 10 minutes pass by very slowly. from the comfort of your bed, alex heard nothing but silence for the first few minutes. suddenly, the apartment drowned in your sobs while you dad tries to calm you down.

it took everything in him not to come out to get you in his arms. he hates it when you're upset.

he tried not to eavesdrop on your conversation. not that you'd even spoken loud enough for him to make out words from either of you. so he settled for instagram, but even that wasn't entertaining enough to keep him occupied.

so then he moved on to tiktok, but that was too overstimulating for his head. he just wanted it all to be over and have you explain everything to him.

what kept everything moving quickly was when a notification from george came through, prompting a quick game of 8ball on message. it was entertaining: the insults from george as he slowly won.

but his eagerness to shove the win in his friend's face is quickly forgotten when he hears the front door close. the phone is thrown into your duvet and he pads towards the door.

he creaks it open, popping his head through the door. "my love."

"alex," you sigh from your door, hand still clutching onto the handle. you choke back on a sob at his name, falling to your knees.

"hey!" he runs to your aid, arms instinctively wrapping around you. he brushes his fingers through your hair as he sits back and pulls you into his lap.

your face is buried in his shirt as you continue to cry.

"i'm sorry about everything, my love," he hums, cheeks resting on the crown of your head. you clutch onto his shirt with everything you've got, still in disbelief at how everything crumbled down so quick.

your parents had always been your role model. their relationship was the clear benchmark to what you looked for your whole life. never did you think that the love of your life would be the downfall of that.

"it's," you take a deep breath and exhale shakily, "it's okay."

"is it," alex isn't sure he's ready for the answer, "really because of me?"

you nod, the tip of your nails tracing the design on his shirt. "my dad..."

"i'm really sorry. did he tell you what i said that caused all this?" alex has had his fair share of separated parents. he's been through this before, but he was fairly young when it happened.

perhaps it never gets any easier despite age.

you nod again. you lift your head and scramble slowly to untangle yourself from you. "he did tell me what happened," you whisper. you crawl to the empty spot in front of alex, mimicking his position - legs crossed and back pressed against the wall.

you reach forward to take his hands into yours. "when we went to dinner and i left for the bathroom... he told me that you told him how much you loved me... and how you feel when i walk into the room.

"the way that i make everything better, especially on days where everything just doesn't seem right. and how... i make you want to be a better version of yourself," you swallow the lump in your throat, your grip tightening around his hand that you could barely feel yours. "about how sure you are that i'm your soulmate. i guess he had never felt that way about my mum even after all these years."

alex is slightly appalled. all of those were said to your dad in confidence. none of those were supposed to get back to you, because he truly believed that it could lose meaning if you find all of that out.

but you've never been loved like this before. and truly, it felt exhilarating to know that love like this exists. and you've found it in the one person that made your heart flutter when you're together.

"are you okay?"

"i'm okay," you nod. you give his hand a final squeeze before getting to your knees. you throw your arms around him, bumping your head very lightly into the wall behind him. "thank you."

"what for?"

"for loving me the way that you do."

he tightens his arms around your waist, his face buried into your shoulder. "and thank you for showing me what love really is."

#ok purr #alex albon #alex albon x reader #alex albon x you #alex albon fanfic #alex albon fanfiction #f1 #f1 x you #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines

[captain-camille]

_𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞_

‣ Jack Sparrow x f!reader

‣ As a young woman of noble blood, society is a golden cage. There is no mention of you unless the subject is marriage or manners while your trip to Port Royal has become a rescue maneuver. One faithful night aboard the Dauntless you finally snap. And meet the captive Captain Jack Sparrow...

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 18+ language, old society rules, emotional chaos, very light angst ‣ 3,4k words

Your dress weighed heavy on your shoulders, the corset strangled your lungs to a delicate point where you began to feel dizzy.

Silver cutlery laid untouched next to your empty plate. The hunger had long passed. 

Either way was it impossible to properly eat with this torture device crushing your ribs. You would fetch a banana later.

“Miss Sheffield“ Lord Somerset hardly drew your attention while he adjusted his white wig “I find myself greatly invested in the many stories of your brother. They're indeed impressive, are they not?“.

It took nerves to hinder your eyes from rolling.

Instead, you gave him an appreciative but short nod. There was bitter sarcasm within the subtlety of your gesture.

Another man's head, adorned with a teal hat with feathers, turned towards you. Father.

“They are, clearly“. You verbally lend weight to your faux-assent as your father's stern gaze fixed on your face.

You suspected him pleased now.

However, his interest in you promptly vanished and a song of praise of someone else continued to fall from his pale lips.

Sweet, boisterous praise for your great brother, of course. 

You were sick of it but with time had begun to see it as an opportunity to reign over your own life as freely as possible.

For as long as possible.

Every eye and word was on your brother while you, the sister of the new Governor of Nassau and member of the Privy Council, were neigh invisible.

And still you could never leave the shiny prison that was the English noble society. Like living in a nightmare that had occasional sunlight in it but was full of madness anyway.

As the men's triumphant laughter echoed across the room, you pictured how Davy Jones' Locker would be a better place to bide your time.

Or maybe you should run away and live a seamstress' life. Alternatively, a barmaid.

In the corner of your vision you saw Norrington slightly leaning over to you. The new Commodore stationed in Port Royal, as he was.

“You look fabulous tonight, Miss“ he cooed, voice low.

His blue gaze rested on the glittering necklace you wore. A collective of silver, sapphires and pearls Lord Somerset had gifted you upon boarding the Dauntless.

Or perhaps Norrington's gaze laid on your cleavage but if so, he concealed it well.

He had to. Hell would come upon him.

You flashed him a polite smile and a demure “Thank you, Commodore“ before your eyes wandered off to the sea that was painted in the colors of a tropical sunset.

The windows were small but still incapable to diminish the glimmer. It went straight to your heart...

“Since you are a young woman, too-“ the man continued, hoisting a chalice to his lips. Beneath the table, your hand balled in a fist.

It did little to soothe your nerves, though.

“-I wondered whether you would think Elizabeth liked such jewelry as, um, a wedding gift?“ his smooth voice asked but the hesitant tone betrayed him.

You had long seen it in his eyes that Norrington's desires to marry Swann's daughter weren't as honest as he tried to make it seem.

Just as Elizabeth struggled to let go of the young blacksmith Will Turner she was currently trying to rescue.

Just fellow souls lost in this noble dilemma, you almost chuckled to yourself.

Luckily, you were quick enough to bridle any inner jests and looked back in Norrington's eyes.

“I’m most certain she would be delighted. However, it occurred to me that Miss Swann prefers silver to gold.“ you advised him before he got dragged back into a naval discussion with the men. 

Not even thanks were left for your input.

Once again your brother's name was thrown around like a cricket ball. 

The urge to just leave this charade of a dinner grew stronger while darkness began to fall upon the majestic Dauntless.

Candle light reflected in the men’s white and grey wigs like it would in the feathers of doltish pigeons.

Nearly scoffing, the focus of your eyes blurred.

Thoughts wandered off to the small bits of information you had grasped throughout the last two days; a business trip to Port Royal had turned into quite an amusing rescue maneuver as Norrington spotted the smoke signal Elizabeth was sending from a lonely island. 

She was brought onto the ship along with a mysterious pirate who turned out to be none other than the notorious Captain Jack Sparrow.

Lord, he seemed so different to the men you were used to. So interesting…

“Yn, the Lord's question was, would you be his companion on a visit to your brother?“ The raspy voice of your father suddenly cut through your thoughts like a sharp knife. 

You cleared your throat, hiding a muttered “god, no“ along the cough.

No, you simply couldn’t do this any longer tonight.

Tomorrow morning the misery would begin anew and the nights were too short anyway.

Dinner was over for you, you decided and shot up, heading towards the door. 

“Young Miss, where do you think you are going?“ your father called across the room, causing you to spin and face him along with everyone else seated on the grand table.

An unreadable expression settled on your face, lips moving on behalf of your temper. 

“Father, I do believe you won’t miss me much while conversing solely about my brother“. 

Norrington let out a shaky breath, his head turning to expect your father’s answer. Obviously, he was used to Elizabeth's docile manners.

The grey wig beneath Lord Sheffield's hat shifted slightly as he cocked his head.

He looked ridiculous. 

“Then go, yn. I do not have the time nor the patience for your behavior right now“ he sighed, waving his hand in an enervated gesture of dismissal “Check on Miss Swann when you pass by“.

The stingy sensation of the corset fighting your big breaths vexed you, along with your father's aloof attitude.

Nevertheless, he granted you exactly what you wanted; to leave and mind your own business.

A business that had preferably sparsely to do with these men.

“Thank you, sir. I will“ you curled your lips, forcing a hasty smile before your knees bent in a curtsy. “Lord Somerset, thank you again for the generous gift. Commodore“.

The Lord stood up with his chest puffed, trying to address you. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Sheffield. I wish you a good-“  

But the rest of his irrelevant set-phrase was cut off by the door closing behind your back. It snapped shut with a soft rock of the Dauntless.

As if she felt sorry for you.

Taking a big breath of the fresh sea breeze your tongue finally spoke some truth. “Damn you, Somerset“.

It felt good, even if it did little to improve your situation.

You knew you had to get away from the cabins or else your words of pent-up frustration would eventually find them.

Maybe you would find solace on the quarterdeck instead?

As you marched up the stairs with a grimace on your face from how impractical the heavy dress was, a young maid brushed past you with filled wineglasses on a silver tray. 

She smiled with respect, but could barely hide her excited look at the luxurious necklace.

Her soft lips parted when she spoke up in awe “If I may, Baron Somerset really is doting upon you, Miss“.

At her comment, the matching earrings with the similarly cut sapphires began to itch.

“So it seems“ you answered flatly, still trying your best not to let it all out on the innocent girl. 

“I happen to have overheard him talking about how beautiful your children would be“ she added with enthusiasm, unaware of your aversion to said nobleman.

You felt your gut twist and tighten at the vision alone. 

Children with this man? No.

On the brink of screaming or crying, your hand flew up to grab one of the glasses.

“Did he now?“ You hoisted it and bathed your upper lip in the sweet taste of Portuguese wine “Golden me“. 

Hearing her colleague call for her, the maid quickly curtsied and made her way down to the main cabin.

You sighed heavily, taking another sip.

Up on the spacious quarterdeck you wasted no time, set the glass down on a random barrel and began to take off your earrings. 

They were burning on your skin now.

Anger, chagrin and despair rioted in your veins like a hurricane.

So untamed, you didn’t even notice the man at the helm observing your actions through curious eyes.

“To hell-“ you shouted, kicking your right foot so that your shoe flew overboard in a wide arc “with you, father“ the other shoe followed suit.

“And Somerset“ you tossed one earring into the black sea, holding the other one while you unhooked the expensive necklace.

You didn’t hesitate a second to proceed with this macabre yet somehow weirdly freeing act of rebellion.

With your right arm outstretched, jewelry in your hands, you stood at the ship’s railing, wind in your face.

“And to the depths with this society of hypocrites and it's stupid rules“ your now hoarse voice exclaimed bitterly before your tossing arm got stopped mid way. 

What?

Twisting on your stocking feet, you ended up only inches away from Jack Sparrow’s face who was grinning at you with a pleased sparkle in his dark eyes.

You didn't dare to breathe, mouth agape.

He was still holding onto your arm even though you had lowered it in a mixture of shock and awe.

“Not good. Ye wouldn't wanna be doin' that, lassie“ the pirate purred, gold teeth adding to the captivating shine of his eyes.

Since the Navy took him prisoner, you had never spoken to him. Only eves-dropped when he had persuaded Norrington as if it was easy.

And now you could feel his breath fan across your face, the scent of the sea and rum intoxicating your brain.

Slowly, he unwrapped and lifted his fingers off your arm. One by one like a fan.

“Why not? You cannot stop me“ you eventually found your courage again and yanked your arm away. 

The man scrunched his brows, lips closing. The many trinkets in his dreadlocks clinked as Sparrow cocked his head.

Your eyes were slaves to his eccentric mimic for a little while before you finally got to step back.

His presence somehow calmed you down, brought your nerves to a halt. All the way to the point where you remembered your manners.

“My apologies, Mister Sparrow. I didn’t mean to-“ you began to apologize for the snappy behavior but he interjected with a finger pointing at you.

“Never be sorry for disobeying rules that aren't worth following, luv“.

Irritated by the unexpectedly wise words, you found yourself at a loss for an answer.

This man was a real pirate after all. The closest thing to an anarchical life there was. 

Your heart pumped awe through your veins that began to pacify the storm within. 

Features dropping from trained, polite distance to honest distress, your gaze darted down to the jewelry in your hand. It was worth at least as much as your entire collection of summer gowns. 

The blue stones seemed somewhat black tonight.

As grim as your future. With Somerset. Or any other noble, dim-witted aristocrat. 

The pirate just stood and watched the tragic poem being written all over your beautiful face. His silence allowed the gears in your mind to shift.

Then, you seemed put.

“What even are you doing at the helm, Sparrow?“ You asked to avoid any potential questions when you mindlessly chucked the bundle of jewelry to him.

He grinned again as an audible clink and clatter signaled you that he had caught it.

You were sure that Sparrow had a better use for it than you did. Whatever it may be.

Admittedly, you would have just thrown it overboard or locked it away in a random jewel casket for eternity.

A husky gravel met your ears when he cleared his throat after sinking the necklace deep into the inside pocket of his brown jacket.

It was as if he knew you didn't have any expectation of thanks or desire for inquiring about your deed.

“Isla de la Muerta can only be found by those who already know where it is-“.

Slow steps of heavy boots on wooden tiles neared you from your left.

“And rumors have it me, meself and I have a heading Norrington doesn’t, savvy?“ Sparrow slurred, snapping open a compass as he leaned his back against the railing next to you.

With your eyes raking over the dusk ocean, you couldn’t help but risk a peak over to his hands.

You grimaced. The compass obviously didn’t point north.

Was he tricking the Commodore?

Suddenly, Jack chuckled, clearly having seen your expression.

“Nah... tale for another night“ he simply stated closing the small, brown box again.

His intense gaze crawled all over your side profile and pinned updo. “Tell me somethin’ about ye, Missy. Plagued by those wig-suckers, eh?“ 

You gave a snort of laughter, enjoying his unfiltered way of addressing the men you were used to calling 'Lord', 'Governor' or 'Commodore'.

“You know exactly who I am. Do not call me Missy“ you snapped, biting down a playful smile no one had ever elicited as easily as the foreign pirate did.

Perhaps it should worry you but it didn’t in the slightest. 

Jack arched his figure to lean back more and study your edged expression from the front. You tried to shoot him an unfazed look but the pirate saw right through it and smiled widely. 

How he could read you so emphatically was far beyond what you were used to from men. It confused you. 

Just as it puzzled Jack that your behaviour was so devoid of any of the hospitality and judgement he had come to expect from your class.

It only drew the both of you deeper into whatever this conversation would become.

“Apologies, me bad. Miss Sheffield“ his deep voice cooed, finally cracking your surface and putting a soft blush on your cheeks.

“It never occurred to me that Pirates can be this charming“ you snickered with a hint of irony, eyes resting on Sparrow’s unique features for a moment.

His tanned skin was reflecting the flickering light of oil lamps. Sparrow was a handsome man, you realized.

Effortlessly and in tune with the ship's rocking, the man pushed off the railing to trail behind you.

“I always expected Pirates to be more- rogue, I suppose“ you mused, more to yourself.

Sparrow tsk'ed but he didn't seem hurt.

Your head cocked when you felt his hot breath close to the nape of your neck.

“A Shilling that I can alter your outlook on Pirates all by me onesies, eh?“ His comment was nonchalant and smug but in a swinging way.

This man had nerves. 

“Didn't I just give you a collier worth far more than one Shilling?“ you asked rhetorically, amplifying the perky tone.

The pirate hummed, as if contemplating. “Alright, then. Consider your debt paid“.

It was utterly refreshing to converse so freely without any rules or boundaries. You grew fond of it with every passing second. 

When Sparrow didn’t re-appear on your other side, you turned around to spot him chugging down the wine you had abandoned in your rage.

“Sorry, it’s no rum but-“

“-good. That’s good“ he complimented the red liquid, analyzing the ornate chalice through narrowed eyes before he sat it back down.

Carefully, with his pinky stretched out with decorum.

You caught yourself giggling but promptly covered your mouth with a palm. Habits. 

“So, Miss Sheffield...“ the pirate urged you, swaggering closer until he stood by your side again. His elbows were quickly propped on the reddish railing.

“Pray tell“.

You sighed. However, the will to empty your heart was unbreakable. 

It was easier when your gaze found shelter in the darkness of the Caribbean night but Sparrow’s stare lingered on you nonetheless. 

“I- I feel like- No, I am trapped. Trapped in a golden cage with only dull bumbles who want to possess women of standing as if they were accessories for their prevalence-striven plans“ you began to complain, your words gaining speed and intensity throughout the sentence. 

Honest pity flashed behind the pirate's charcoal outlined eyes.

The man had never thought he was capable of pitying those who were born with a silver spoon in their mouths.

And still, there he stood, stricken by the pain in your melodic voice.

You gasped for air, your mind wanting to go on but your throat began to burn on the verge of crying.

“I must behave according to the rules of society, no matter what it is I truly desire. All the poisoned praise goes to my brother while I am only of importance when the subject of my marriage is discussed“.

“Ye brother be the new Governor of Nassau?“ Sparrow eventually asked, his gaze sliding down to where your nails were nervously scratching lines into the wooden railing.

You couldn’t help but scoff in annoyance of his title. “Yes, that be him“. 

The man next to you shrugged his shoulders, the trinkets and charms once again clinking. You would love to find out where he got each of them from.

“I could, in fact, sack Nassau port for ye as soon as I rip me Pearl from Barbossa’s slimy, old hands“ a tad of disgust infused his bold words at the foreign name.

“Jus' a humble offer. What ye say, lassie?“. 

Sparrow was trying to cheer you up.

A small smile began to reign over your lips again, toes curling. “That would only get you killed, fierce pirate“ you noted, trying to sound as judicious and rational as possible.

Instead, he grinned even broader and spread his arms in an eccentric, self-presenting pose. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow, luv“ he declared as if it was self-explanatory.

For the first time in a while the sea breeze caught and carried your sincere laughter.

Sparrow’s braided goatee twitched as he found himself biting his lip at the pretty sound and look.

You were a stunning woman in noble clothes with noble blood in your veins but with a spirit as wild and ravenous as his own.

You enthralled him.

“Bring this to my daughter. She shall eat, at least. The Commodore risks too much by rescuing young Turner, he cannot afford to see his fiancé unwell“ Governor Swann’s order suddenly boomed across the main deck, followed by hasty steps of a maid.

Instinctively, Sparrow snaked his hand around your shoulder, across your chest and pulled you back with him.

Out of sight.

His rough hand on your mouth muffled a shrill cry just enough. 

“They thinkin’ yer asleep, eh, Miss Sheffield?“ His voice was lowered, almost just a husk and yet it was filled with this mischievous, flirtatious tone.

God, this man sent shivers down your spine like no other. 

But he was still a lawless pirate.

A prisoner, even.

Suddenly, whyever, the gravity of your situation and the futility of tonight's zeal made you feel how cold and wet the floor was without shoes.

Brown dreadlocks pressed against the back of your head irrevocably disheveled your updo. 

“Asleep, as I should be...“ you muttered, infused with a hint of re-surfacing anger and despair.

You wriggled yourself out of his protective grasp. The pirate's brow was raised, eyes narrowed on your face.

There was a haze of danger and waywardness about Jack Sparrow that made you question your own courage and spirit. 

“Why did I even tell you all that in the first place?“ you exclaimed, hands thrown up. Slowly stepping away from him, you felt all the emotions crushing your mind.

“You most likely do not care, neither do I profit by wailing. It doesn’t bear contemplating...“.

Sparrow wrapped his right hand back around the handle of the helm, looking rather unfazed by the confusion that was spreading in your system like the Portuguese wine in his own. 

Heavy silence and the occasional laughter from the men in the Captain’s cabin mingled with the soft splash of sea water. 

Your feelings were now as erratic as the rhythm of the crashing waves.

“Look 'ere, luv“.

Your gaze was just about to turn from pleading to the usual bored emptiness as you saw his free hand wander down to his leather belt.

A smirk adorned his bearded face when skilled fingers rapidly detached the compass and threw it over to you.

Stumbling slightly as the ship rocked, you caught the brown box before it could hit the ground.

You heard Sparrow mutter a muted “Thank god“ that made you want to snap at him but the gesture was too interesting not to query.

Why would he think you needed a compass?

Fluster painted your features when you met his weirdly satisfied expression.

“Aren’t you Captain Jack Sparrow? Don’t you need a compass for... that?“ You asked with less challenge in your tone than initially planned.

He chuckled beautifully, shaking his head with eyes closed.

“What?“ You probed when his dark gaze began to rise up from the floor, along your figure.

“I may be without me compass but not without heading and a plan“ the pirate finally explained, taking another step closer to the helm “You, contrastingly and tragically, lack both“. 

Your arms came up and crossed defensively in front of your chest.

But his words and the tight corset made you drop them again rather quickly. 

He was right. You had been lamenting about your situation barely three minutes ago.

“So? What exactly is your compass going to change about that, Sparrow?“.

You peered down at the inconspicuous looking box.

“Everythin'.“ Sparrow stated with a touch of mystery. “Listen what ye heart wants and the compass is gonna give ye a heading, savvy?“.

A big part of you wanted to believe what this infuriatingly interesting man promised while another voice was whispering to you how it was literal magic he was implying.

Magic. 

With a hesitant gesture of offering it back to him, you hoped to find out which voice to listen to.

“But you would want it back, right? It is yours after all“ you commented your action with genuine concern and a small smile.

Plus, the fear that Norrington would kill Jack if he couldn’t find the Isla without his compass. 

Captured by the pirate for one last time, you watched his gold teeth flash in a wide grin, his tattooed hand spreading on his chest as a sign of integrity.

He was being honest, you felt it.

“I will be gettin’ it back, luv. Don't ye worry“. 

Before you creeped down the stairs and eventually headed for your cabin to ponder on your heart's desires, the last you saw of Captain Jack Sparrow was a charming wink. 

The last for now, at least.

♡ thank you so much for reading my very first POTC fic ever ♡

𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐲𝐨 𝐡𝐨

@mochie85 @holdmytesseract @socksracoon10 @goldencherriess @chronicallybubbly @kcd15 @always-on-hiatus

#jack sparrow x reader #captain jack sparrow #potc x reader #potc #jack sparrow fic #fanfiction #jack sparrow x y/n #pirates of the caribbean #jack sparrow #Pirates of the Caribbean fanfic #captain jack sparrow x yn #jack sparrow x f!reader #language

[estapa-edwards]

I MISS YOU, IM SORRY PT 2 - J. HUGHES

paring: Jack Hughes x fem! reader

word count: 3.7k

requested? yes -i NEED a pt 2 to i miss you, im sorry! 🤍

warnings: use of y/n.

pt. 1

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, Jack's message seemed to jump out at me, stirring a flurry of conflicting emotions within. It had been a few weeks since we last spoke, and despite my efforts to move on, his presence still lingered in the corners of my mind like an echo that refused to fade.

"I miss you."

Those three simple words carried a weight that threatened to pull me back into the depths of nostalgia, where memories of our time together danced in the shadows of my thoughts. I never knew I could miss somebody this much, I reflected, feeling the ache in my chest intensify with each passing moment.

A few weeks ago, I stumbled upon a photo on social media – Jack with his new girlfriend. She bore a striking resemblance to me, with her long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. It was as if he had found a replacement for me, someone who could fill the void I had left behind.

At first, the discovery had filled me with a strange mixture of jealousy and resentment. How could he move on so quickly, as if I had never meant anything to him? But as I scrolled through their pictures, I realized that perhaps it was for the best. He deserved to be happy, even if it meant finding happiness with someone else.

And so, I made the difficult decision to keep my distance, to refrain from responding to his message. It wasn't out of spite or malice, but out of a sense of self-preservation. I couldn't bear to reopen old wounds, to subject myself to the pain of seeing him move on with someone else.

Despite my resolve to keep my distance from Jack, there was one connection I couldn't sever – my friendship with his brother, Luke. We had formed a bond that transcended the complexities of Jack's love life, spending countless hours together sharing stories, laughter, and the occasional pint of ice cream.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Despite living under the same roof, Jack's presence in our shared space had dwindled in recent weeks. His busy schedule and newfound relationship kept him away more often than not, leaving Luke and me to our own devices. It was during these moments of solitude that I found solace in Luke's company, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding.

As the days turned into weeks, my visits to Luke's room became a regular occurrence – a sanctuary where I could escape the chaos of my own thoughts and find solace in the familiar warmth of his company. We would spend hours talking about everything and nothing, laughing at inside jokes and sharing stories from our past.

But no matter how much I tried to bury my feelings for Jack, there were moments when his absence weighed heavily on my heart. Sometimes, in the midst of our conversations, I would catch myself drifting off, lost in a sea of memories that threatened to pull me under.

It was during one of these moments that Luke caught me staring off into the distance, a concerned expression etched upon his features.

"Hey, you okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

I forced a smile, pushing aside the ache in my chest as I nodded in response. "Yeah, just lost in thought."

But Luke wasn't convinced, his piercing gaze seeing through the façade I had erected around myself. He knew me better than anyone, could sense when something was weighing on my mind.

"Is it Jack?" he ventured, his words hanging in the air between us like an unspoken truth.

I hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But in the end, I knew I couldn't keep it bottled up inside any longer – not from Luke, my confidant and closest friend.

"Yeah," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "I miss him."

There was a sadness in Luke's eyes as he reached out and squeezed my hand in silent understanding. He knew all too well the pain of unrequited love, the ache of longing for someone who was just out of reach.

"I know it's hard," he murmured, his voice filled with empathy. "But you're stronger than you think, Y/N. And no matter what happens, I'll always be here for you."

His words brought a sense of comfort, a reminder that I wasn't alone in my struggles. With Luke by my side, I felt as though I could weather any storm, no matter how fierce.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I was just about to leave Luke's room one afternoon when I heard the sound of footsteps approaching from down the hall. Before I could react, the door swung open, revealing Jack standing in the doorway, a surprised expression on his face.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice tentative. "I didn't realize you were here."

I felt a pang of discomfort at the sight of him, memories of our past rushing back to the surface with a vengeance. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the weight of our shared history pressing down upon us like a heavy blanket.

"I was just leaving," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.

There was an awkward tension in the air as I gathered my things and made my way towards the door, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere that surrounded us. But before I could make my escape, Jack spoke up, his voice filled with uncertainty.

"Y/N, wait," he called out, his words stopping me in my tracks.

I turned to face him, my heart pounding in my chest as I braced myself for whatever was to come.

As Jack's words hung in the air, a sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. The anticipation that had built up inside me came crashing down like a wave, leaving behind a sense of emptiness that threatened to consume me whole.

"Actually, never mind."

With those three simple words, he shattered the fragile hope that had flickered to life within me, leaving nothing but a hollow ache in their wake. I stood there in stunned silence, unable to comprehend the sudden shift in our interaction.

Before I could gather my thoughts or muster a response, Jack turned on his heel and disappeared into his room, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, my heart heavy with disappointment and regret.

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I struggled to make sense of what had just happened. Had I imagined the connection between us, the unspoken bond that had once held us together? Or had he simply grown tired of playing games, choosing to retreat behind the walls he had built around himself?

I wanted to scream, to lash out at him for the pain he had caused me with his thoughtless words. But deep down, I knew that it wouldn't change anything – that the distance between us was a chasm too wide to bridge, no matter how much I longed for things to be different.

With a heavy sigh, I turned away from his door and made my way down the hallway, each step echoing the rhythm of my broken heart. It was a painful reminder of the harsh realities of love – that sometimes, no matter how much we wish for things to work out, the universe has other plans in store for us.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

No matter how hard I tried to avoid Jack, it seemed like fate had other plans in store for us. No matter where I turned, he was there – a constant presence in my life, a reminder of the love we had shared and the pain we had endured.

It felt as though the universe was playing a cruel joke on me, taunting me with his presence at every turn. Whether it was bumping into him in the hallway, catching a glimpse of him across the crowded room, or hearing his laughter echoing through the walls of our shared home, there was no escaping the inevitable.

Each encounter served as a painful reminder of what could have been, dredging up memories of happier times and igniting the embers of longing that still smoldered within me. No matter how much time had passed, the wounds he had left behind remained raw and tender, refusing to heal in his absence.

And yet, despite the pain it caused me, there was a part of me that couldn't help but be drawn to him – to the warmth of his smile, the kindness in his eyes, the way he made me feel alive with just a simple touch.

But I knew that giving in to those feelings would only lead to more heartache in the end. I had made a promise to myself to move on, to let go of the past and embrace the possibilities of the future. And even though it was difficult, I knew that I had to stay true to myself, no matter how tempting the allure of Jack's presence may be.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

I stood in the kitchen, lost in the comforting routine of chopping vegetables and stirring simmering pots on the stove. The rhythmic clatter of knives against cutting boards filled the air, a soothing melody that helped to drown out the noise of my thoughts.

But just as I was beginning to lose myself in the familiar motions of cooking, a sharp knock on the door shattered the illusion of calm, jolting me back to reality with a start.

My heart skipped a beat as I glanced towards the entrance, a sense of apprehension knotting in the pit of my stomach. It couldn't be, I told myself, my mind racing with a million possibilities.

With cautious steps, I made my way towards the door, each footfall echoing the rapid rhythm of my heartbeat. As I reached out to grasp the doorknob, a sense of dread washed over me, the weight of uncertainty pressing down upon my shoulders like a heavy burden.

And then, with a trembling hand, I swung the door open – and there he stood, Jack, his presence filling the doorway like a looming shadow against the fading light of dusk.

For a moment, neither of us spoke, the silence stretching between us like a taut wire. His eyes searched mine, a mixture of emotions swirling within their depths – regret, longing, and something else, something I couldn't quite name.

"Hey," he greeted, his voice soft and tentative. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me as I struggled to find my voice. "No, not at all," I managed to reply, my words coming out in a breathless whisper.

There was a tension in the air, palpable and charged with unspoken emotion. It was as if time stood still in that moment, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack stepped forward, closing the distance between us in a single stride. His presence enveloped me like a warm embrace, his scent familiar and intoxicating all at once.

"I've missed you," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than you'll ever know."

His words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken implications. I couldn't deny the surge of conflicting emotions that washed over me at his confession. Part of me wanted to believe him, to hold onto the hope that our connection was still strong despite the obstacles that stood in our way.

But another part of me couldn't ignore the bitter reality of his words – he had a girlfriend. The thought stung like a fresh wound, reopening the scars of heartache that had barely begun to heal.

"Did you actually miss me, because you had a girlfriend?" I asked, my voice tinged with a mixture of hurt and disbelief.

There was a flicker of guilt in Jack's eyes as he met my gaze, a silent admission of the truth I already knew deep down. "I did," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it wasn't the same. She's not you, Y/N."

His words cut through me like a knife, reopening old wounds and igniting a firestorm of emotions within me. How could he expect me to believe him, to trust in his feelings when he had chosen to be with someone else?

"I don't know if I can do this, Jack," I confessed, my voice trembling with emotion. "I can't be just another option, waiting for you to decide if I'm worth choosing."

Jack's words hung in the air between us, a fragile bridge spanning the chasm of uncertainty that had grown between us. His confession stirred a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within me, tearing at the walls I had built around my heart in an effort to protect myself from further pain.

"You know how much you mean to me. The whole time I was with her, I wished it was you instead."

His words echoed in the depths of my soul, resonating with a truth that I couldn't deny. Despite the hurt and betrayal I felt, there was a part of me that longed to believe him, to cling to the hope that our love was still worth fighting for.

But the wounds he had inflicted ran deep, leaving scars that would forever mar the landscape of our relationship. Could I truly trust him again, knowing that he had chosen someone else over me?

"I want to believe you, Jack," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I don't know if I can. Trust isn't something that can be easily regained."

There was a heaviness in the air as we stood there, caught in the gravity of our shared pain and regret. For a moment, it felt as though time stood still, the world narrowing down to just the two of us, suspended in a fragile bubble of uncertainty.

And then, without a word, Jack reached out and took my hand in his, his touch gentle yet filled with a quiet determination.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just give me a chance to make things right. I'll do whatever it takes to earn back your trust."

Tears glistened in my eyes as I listened to Jack's plea, his words reaching deep into the recesses of my heart. Despite the pain and uncertainty that still lingered between us, there was a part of me that wanted to believe him – to believe that we could find a way to heal the wounds of the past and move forward together.

But as much as I yearned for reconciliation, I knew that I couldn't ignore the doubts and fears that gnawed at the edges of my resolve. Trust wasn't something that could be easily regained, and I wasn't sure if I was ready to take that leap of faith just yet.

"I appreciate your honesty, Jack," I replied, my voice steady despite the storm raging within me. "But I think we need some time apart – time to figure things out on our own."

There was a flicker of disappointment in Jack's eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the reality of our situation. He knew as well as I did that our relationship couldn't be repaired overnight, that it would take time and effort on both of our parts to rebuild what had been broken.

"I understand," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret. "But please, just know that I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

I nodded, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "And I'll always be here for you too, Jack. But for now, let's just focus on being friends."

There was a sense of relief that washed over me as I spoke those words, a weight lifting from my shoulders as I embraced the possibility of a new beginning. It wouldn't be easy, and there were sure to be challenges ahead, but I knew that as long as we had each other, we could weather any storm that came our way.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

In the weeks that followed our heart-to-heart conversation, Jack and I embarked on a journey of rediscovery – one that would test the boundaries of our friendship and pave the way for a new chapter in our lives.

With each passing day, we grew closer, our bond strengthened by shared laughter, heartfelt conversations, and moments of quiet companionship. We spent hours exploring the city together, revisiting old haunts and discovering new ones, each adventure bringing us one step closer to understanding ourselves and each other.

There were moments when the pain of the past threatened to resurface, old wounds reopening with a raw intensity that left us both reeling. But instead of turning away from each other, we leaned in – offering comfort, support, and a shoulder to lean on when the weight of the world became too much to bear.

Slowly but surely, the walls we had built around ourselves began to crumble, revealing the vulnerable hearts that lay beneath. We shared our hopes and dreams, our fears and insecurities, laying bare the pieces of ourselves that we had long kept hidden from the world.

And in those moments of vulnerability, we found strength – strength in each other, in the unspoken understanding that bound us together, and in the knowledge that no matter what the future held, we would face it together, as friends.

As the days turned into weeks, I found myself grateful for the opportunity to rebuild our friendship from the ground up, to forge a connection that was deeper and more meaningful than anything we had ever shared before.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of our daily lives, there were moments when Jack and I found ourselves drawn together by an invisible force – moments of quiet intimacy that left us both breathless with the realization of just how deeply we had come to care for each other.

It was in the small gestures – a lingering touch, a shared glance, a smile that spoke volumes – that our bond grew stronger, weaving a tapestry of connection that defied explanation.

One evening, as we sat side by side on the couch, engrossed in a movie marathon, I felt Jack's hand brush against mine, sending a jolt of electricity coursing through my veins. It was a simple touch, yet it spoke volumes – a silent reassurance that we were in this together, no matter what.

In that moment, I found myself leaning into his touch, craving the warmth and comfort it offered. And as our fingers intertwined, a sense of peace washed over me, filling the room with a quiet serenity that spoke of the deep bond we shared.

There were other moments too – moments of shared laughter and inside jokes, of stolen glances and secret smiles – each one a testament to the depth of our connection and the growing affection we held for each other.

And as the weeks turned into months, I found myself falling for Jack in ways I never thought possible, his presence a constant source of joy and comfort in my life.

But amidst the growing closeness between us, there lingered a sense of hesitation – a fear of crossing boundaries that had long been established, of risking the fragile equilibrium of our friendship for the sake of something more.

And so, we treaded carefully, tiptoeing around the unspoken tension that simmered beneath the surface, content to bask in the warmth of each other's company while keeping our true feelings carefully guarded.

But deep down, I couldn't help but wonder – what if? What if we took a chance on love, risking everything for the possibility of something beautiful and true?

As the days passed and our friendship continued to blossom, I could sense a shift in the air – a tension that crackled with unspoken emotions, threatening to burst forth at any moment. And it was during one quiet evening, as we sat together on the balcony, that Jack finally found the courage to speak the words that had been weighing heavily on his heart.

"Y/N, there's something I need to say," he began, his voice soft yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I realize that I owe you an apology."

I turned to face him, my curiosity piqued by the solemn tone of his voice. "What for?" I asked, my heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

"For everything," he replied, his gaze never wavering from mine. "For hurting you, for taking you for granted, for not realizing sooner what you mean to me."

His words washed over me like a wave, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within me – surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope that threatened to ignite into something more.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he continued, his voice tinged with regret. "I know I messed up, but I want you to know that I'm willing to do whatever it takes to make things right."

I felt a lump form in my throat as I listened to his heartfelt confession, the weight of his words settling in the pit of my stomach like a heavy stone. Could I trust him again, after everything we had been through? Did I dare to hope for a future where we could be more than just friends?

And then, before I could form a coherent response, Jack took a deep breath and spoke the words that I had longed to hear.

"I want more, Y/N," he confessed, his voice filled with quiet determination. "I want us to be more than just friends. I want to explore what we could have together, to see if there's a chance for something real between us."

A sense of relief washed over me as I heard Jack's heartfelt confession, his words echoing the silent desires of my own heart. For so long, I had yearned for something more – something deeper and more meaningful than the platonic friendship we had shared.

"I agree," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, the weight of his words settling over me like a warm blanket. "I want that too, Jack."

There was a flicker of hope in his eyes as he reached out and took my hand in his, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. It was a simple gesture, yet it spoke volumes – a silent promise of the journey that lay ahead, filled with uncertainty and possibility.

And as we sat there, bathed in the soft glow of the evening sky, I knew that no matter what obstacles we may face, we would face them together, united by the bond of our shared love and the hope of a future filled with endless possibilities.

#hockey #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #nj devils #jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes imagine

[jynxpsiche]

Not Tangerine already planning on fathering reader's baby as his won, cause hey, the baby also has blue eyes so he can totally pass of as their son.

Also imagine if the real dad ever shows up and tries come back into the baby's life and Tangerine is all conflicted cause he loves the kid as if it's his own son :/

OH MY GOD THANK U SO MUCH ANON FOR REQUESTING THIS! LITERALLY CHEF KISS! We love a jealous Tangerine <3

Unwanted texts

💌. Summary: unanswered texts from her, lead Tangerine to meet someone he already despised…

or

…Tangerine meets the baby’s biological father for the first time.

💌. Warning: SWEARING. LIKE A LOT! Jealous Tangerine, female reader, canon gore. English is not my first language! I don’t know many British slangs!

X

c’mon babe

I just wanna meet the baby

be there for them, y’know?

pls answer me

It’s been already a couple of days and sometimes, during different hours of the day and night, your phone would ding with notifications…from him.

Your ex boyfriend.

The biological father of your precious baby.

The whole situation pissed you off. Firstly, when he found out about your pregnancy, he decided to leave without an explanation and leave you alone. Then he had the nerve to message you after god knows how many years.

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

But obviously you couldn’t ask for any type of help from Tangerine.

He was quite the protective type, especially if the main cause was a shitty ex-boyfriend.

Surely he would have gone feral if he found out about your ex’s sudden texts. That’s why you decided to keep the thing for yourself and just…ghost him.

But who would have known that you would end up calming down a rather irate Tangerine?

However, it’s important to start from the beginning.

It was a day off for Tan, which meant that he would have spent the entire day with you and his little one. But since it was still too early to get up, for now he simply drank in your warmth and cuddled your body closer to his, without waking you up.

The curly man was affectionate only with his girl and his baby, neither to his brother he showed this side of his. He wasn’t ashamed of it, he just had a reputation to defend.

His chin was placed on your head while you were all nuzzled in the crook of his neck. His strong and bulky arms were tightly wrapped around your waist, not allowing you to leave. Not that you wanted to.

Only your soft breaths echoed through the room. But the peaceful atmosphere was interrupted by the ping of a notification. The sound made him grimace, but not waking up from his slumber.

Then another ping, closely followed by another and another one.

Now Tangerine was fully awake, his half-closed eyes glaring at the device on your nightstand. When he noticed no more ding’s came from your phone, he softly pecked your forehead before trying to fall asleep again.

But then again. A new message.

Groaning softly, Tan lifted himself from the bed, before pecking your forehead again and assured that you didn’t wake up.

He was not standing on your side of the bed, the device on your nightstand calling for him to check what had interrupted his sleep.

With a furrowed and irritated expression, Tangerine unlocked your phone, noticing new messages unopened. They had been sent just a couple of minutes ago.

He quickly glanced at your sleeping figure, a strange feeling bubbling in his chest. His expression furrowed more when he saw the contact’s name. X.

Who the fuck was that?

But he surely was took by anger when he read the multiple messages he sent you.

He wasn’t only a dickhead, but he was also the biological father of his son.

His bloodshot eyes read every line and every word of every message he dared to sent you. His fingers gradually tightening their grip around the device.

The another ding. Another message.

X

I know ur reading the texts

ur online

u finally have the courage to read what I’ve been sending you

u stopped ghosting me huh?

God you’re such a bitch sometimes…

His vision darkened at the last text he sent, nostrils fuming with rage.

X

I want to see the kid

Meet me here

Xx xx xx, xx

“Tan? You good?” Your sleepy and raspy voice reached his ears and immediately he turned towards you, his furious expression never leaving his face.

You noticed, of course. Slowly you rose from your spot on the comfy bed and lazily dragged herself up to his tense figure, wrapping her delicate arms around his waist.

A soft kiss on his back.

“What is making you so tense?” You whispered against his skin, your hands gently rubbing his sides. Tan slightly crocked his head in your direction, his brows still furrowed. A sigh left his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He instead asked with a low tone laced with rage. “Why did you hide it from me?” His tone showed how he strongly demanded an answer.

“I could have handle it. I simply didn’t answer his texts to show him how an insignificant being like him should be six feet under. To show him how he was a nobody to me anymore.” Your tone was flat, laced with venom, finally expressing all your suppressed rage.

His expression immediately softened at your words, his brows relaxing and the wrinkles on his forehead disappearing. The tails of his mouth slightly raised in an almost visible smile.

But you noticed it.

When he turned in your direction, his hands on your waist, his lips left a soft peck on your forehead. His face was calm and so close to yours.

“I’m goin’ to take care of him. Don’ worry.” He whispered, his soothing voice sending you in a sleepy mood. A light yawn left your mouth. He chuckled at your reaction.

“Now go to sleep love.”

After you fell into another peaceful but deep slumber, Tangerine got to work.

With Lem’s help (after calling him for twenty minuets straight, the poor man was sleeping) he managed to find the phone location and so the location of the fucker.

It was now 3:45 am and Tan was alone in a desert neighbourhood. Silence was his only company at the moment.

He stood still in front of an apartment complex, his eyes fixed on a specific window while the cigarette in his hand slowly burnt.

With a flick he tossed the small nicotine stick and put it out with a stomp of his foot. His lips were curled into an annoyed curl.

Silently, he climbed the fire escape with big steps and in a blink of an eye his shadow was printed in front of the covered window, blinds hiding the inside.

But a faint light from behind them immediately caught his attention, a sadistic grin creeping on his moustache.

His hand grabbed the gun from his pocket and he shot the window’s lock, allowing him to access to the apartment.

Frantic, disconnected noises echoed from inside. Tangerine knew the fucker heard him.

Only when he entered he was met with a younger, dull man, his face pale and his eyes wide from fear. “Who…who the fuck are you?!” He half shouted, his voice cracking a bit.

The man wanted to show his composure so bad, show him how collected and tough he was. But in reality, he was shitting in his pants.

With great strides, Tangerine approached the trembling man, his pistol clearly visible. “‘s not important, is it? Wha’ is important is why you fuckin’ harassing my love with your insipid messages.” He spat out in a hard tone, his rigid stare piercing the man’s soul.

The man’s eyes frantically wandered around, he is searching something to defend himself thought Tan. Quick pants from the man often broke the silence in the room.

He took a step back, his hands shaking uncontrollably. His body language was visibly betraying him. “Just…the fuck you want from me?!” He continued in a fake authoritative voice.

Tangerine held his face high, communicating how he was in control. Slowly his arm raised and he pointed the gun in the man’s forehead.

“I want you to delete her number, to forget about her and the baby and to never contact her again.” He stated with calm rage. His tone extremely sharp.

When the man was the pistol pointed at his head, his confident mask fell, his eyes filled with tears and his still standing posture crouched on himself. Shamelessly he nodded his head at every request, his voice dead in the back of his throat.

Suddenly, Tangerine shot the man in the leg and he stumbled back. A cry came out from his mouth.

“This’s your last warnin’.”

#bullet train 2022 #tangerine #aaron taylor johnson #lemon bullet train #bullet train #lemon x reader #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #aaron taylor johnson x reader #dadtangerine

[b33zlebubz]

RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER SIX - run, hide, fight

TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC)

PREV CHAPTER || MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER

TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace you still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

Arriving at this new base brings many changes.  Some good, others frustrating.  The best of which being a new phone, wiped clean of anything that could track you, and a new room.

It's a bit bigger, this time.  The bed is less of a cot and more like something you would be given at the residencies you used to find yourself in and out of; and it's quite the relief for your sore back.  There’s enough space to wander and even a desk with a window, overlooking more concrete buildings and bleak snow.  This time, though, you don't let yourself rot between your sheets.  After you get about ten hours of sleep, you get up, get dressed, and become acquainted with the new base.

It's different.  Much, much bigger.  Soldiers of all kinds dart around from several different countries you can't quite pinpoint, and you feel very out of place in hoodies and jeans while everyone else seems to be in some important uniform.  You see Soap in the hallway and briefly come across Laswell just as she arrives to meet Price, but other than that you don't see any of the others often.  They seem content to leave you to your own devices—let you linger with them in the dining hall, squished between Price and Gaz as the others talk.  Occasionally they’d leave the base, leaving you continuously more restless and bored as the days pass and nothing new happens.

This leads you to where you stand now, aimlessly wandering down the barren hallways of the base, late at night.  You had intended to go find something to snack on if the D-fac was still open, but instead you find your curiosity leading you down a dark, liminal hallway you haven’t yet familiarized yourself with.  A few people eye you as you pass, others turning to get a second glance—but you barely pay them any mind.

Eventually, you find yourself in some kind of training room.

It's empty; save for mirrors across the walls and a cushioned floor that sinks below your shoes.  There's a worn punching bag pressed off in the corner and someone's gym bag laying abandoned next to it.  The lights are off, though, and you find yourself staring back at your reflection in the mirror.  The bruises on your eye are beginning to yellow.

Fists clench and unclench; a buzzing, restless energy in your veins.

You glance around and listen back down the hallway, waiting to be seen and reprimanded for being somewhere without clearance.  Footsteps don’t echo down the hall, or talking, or anything of the sort…so, you approach the bag tentatively.

You push it, first, and your brow furrows as you realize it's heavier than you thought.  The recoil nearly sends you flat on your ass and you stumble back a few steps, surprised.  Your hands ball into fists and you land an experimental punch to the object, and you feel the impact down your arm and into your elbow.  A curse leaves your mouth as you shake the ache out of your fist, and the sound echoes slightly in the silent room.

How did they do it?  How did that kid punch you hard enough to leave a bruise, but walk away uninjured?  Was it muscle?  The element of surprise?  What did he have over you that you didn’t?

“Fix your thumb.”

You jump and whip around to face the door.  Ghost is there.

He’s leaning against the side of the doorway, tattooed arms crossed over his chest.  There is a towel over his shoulder and in the light you can see the dark marks of sweat staining the black t-shirt he wears.  You think it's safe to assume he's at least a little bit psychotic, because he's exercising this late at night and still wearing the balaclava.  This time, however, it's hiked up over his nose—revealing where faint scars jut through the blond stubble on his chin.  His expression is neutral, if maybe a little bit annoyed that you’re in the room he was previously using.

His eyes narrow at you and your shoulders straighten. Your fists lower slightly with surprise and initial panic, but it fades a little as you process the command he gives you.

"What?”  You breathe, trying to keep your voice level.

“Fix your thumb,” he says again, cocking his head slightly and gesturing towards you with a gloved hand.  You notice, with slight amusement, that his gloves have a skeletal pattern on them.  “You punch like that, you’ll break it.  Keep it over your other fingers and try again.”

You give him a strange look, confused.  You had expected him to shoo you out, maybe snap at you a little—not give you advice on how to fix yourself. Nevertheless, you do as he says.  You situate your thumbs over your other fingers and punch the bag again.  This time, it doesn’t ache as bad.  You throw a few more punches, and still the punching bag barely moves.

“You’re barely bloody hitting it, kid.”

“Trying,” you huff between hits, frustrated.  “Not exactly buff like you guys.”

“You don’t need to be strong; you just need to be smart.”

You launch your fist again with a grunt, but suddenly he’s got a hand on your arm, stopping you.  Your face whips around to snap at him and he stares back at you with a look of calm resolve.  His eyes are dark behind the smudge of sweat and eye black, and you can almost picture how his face looks, this close.  His hold on your arm tightens and you grimace, flashes of a facial scar and a southern accent cutting through your mind.

“I’m not meant for this,”  you argue. 

“Maybe not,”  he hums in response.  “But you’re not helpless.  Where’s the kid who put up a fight last week?  Who took a chunk out of Soap’s arm?”

“That kid was panicking.”

“That kid was angry,” he presses, nearly interrupting.  “And tired of being pushed around, yeah?”

You’re biting your cheek so hard it hurts, but his words strike a chord within you.  You tilt your head in a nod of agreement, and your fists clench again.  You swallow thickly.

“So tell me how you did it the first time.”

You close your eyes tight, digging deep into your memory of last week.  You barely remember doing it—biting Soap’s arm and kicking free, distracting him long enough to stumble down the steps.  You remember the coppery taste of blood in your mouth, the split second where you nearly gagged from it, how you still taste it in your nightmares and wake up retching from the memory.

“I bit him,” you strain.  “Then I kicked him.”

“Where?”

“In the dick.”

“Always a good option,” Ghost shifts his stance behind you.  “What else could you have done?”

You wrack your thoughts, and it's then you notice his head is above yours, his neck exposed.  You jut your elbow into it and he shifts to stop it.  You gasp, surprised by the sudden movement, and the dog tags around your neck swing in front of your face.  

“Good,” he grunts.  “If it were anyone else that hit would’ve landed.”

You let out a breath.  Your heart slows its incessant thumping as you roll your shoulders and right yourself again, rubbing the sore spot on your collar where he had you restrained.  "Even on Soap?"

"On an off day, maybe."  He responds with a nod, before turning to saunter over to his gym bag.  "Soap's strong---but he's smarter.  To win a fight against him you'd have to catch him off guard."

You scoff, "You're making it sound like he actually plans to fight me."

"Just…hypothetically.  Doesn't have to be Soap.  Him and Graves are a lot alike."

"So I've heard," you mumble, rubbing your sore neck as Ghost throws the gym bag over his shoulder.  He turns to face you one last time with one last word of advice.

"Keep your head on and you'll be fine if anything comes up," he says.  "Run first, hide second, fight as a last resort."

You run a thumb across your red knuckles in thought, your brow furrowed as Ghost gathers his things and leaves without another word.

Run first, hide second, fight third.

His words repeat in your head as you leave the gym to go back to bed, and they continue to echo in your brain throughout the rest of the week.

The strange routine continues.  You find yourself walking to the training room often, finding him there, and letting off some steam for a few hours before returning to bed.  He doesn't ask why you keep coming, and you don't ask why he keeps agreeing to spar with you; you just appear and jump into it.  Sometimes you talk, sometimes you don't, but it isn't really anything substance other than his clipped version of small talk and fighting advice.

You're up in time to meet the others for breakfast in the mornings, so other than a raised eyebrow from Price at the bruises on your knuckles, he doesn't question it.

"Maybe I punch the walls in my sleep," you say with a shrug whenever Soap is the first one to point it out, earning a chuckle from Gaz who sits to your right.  You glance up at Ghost to see his eyes crinkle a little, but he doesn't usually regard you much at the table on a good day, anyway.

"Definitely wouldn't be the weirdest thing," Gaz juts a fork in Soap's direction.  "Pretty sure this bloke's a sleep-wanker."

Soap smacks Gaz's arm and the British soldier chuckles.

“Nah,” Ghost pipes in. “But I did catch 'em sleeping with an AR-15 underneath his pillow like he was gonna kill the fuckin' tooth fairy.” 

Soap begins to defend himself, his mouth full of cold military food. "I was piss drunk.  And it was right after Macarov.  Gimme a break."

"You're piss drunk now, Sergeant."  Price comments.

"M’not drunk.  Hungover."

Gaz leans over slightly to explain, holding a hand to his face as if it was a secret; "he tried out-drinking Ghost last night."

"Really?"  You smile a little over a glass of orange juice.  "And how'd that go over?"

"Bloody hilarious," Ghost interjects, earning a smack to the shoulder from Soap.

You were seeing more and more of what they were like outside the battlefield, now—slowly grasping a hold on their personalities.  They were quite the group whenever they weren’t actively terrifying and you figure, despite how they didn’t seem to agree with your presence at the start, they were starting to warm up to you.

Maybe that was Price's intention, inviting you to meals with the others when you started leaving your room more.

"'Should take the kid, next time," Gaz suggests suddenly, causing your head to perk up again at the same time Soap's does.  "Get 'em off base for a bit."

Price sighs, shaking his head.  "I don't know, Gaz…"

"I'm seventeen," you argue.  "That's technically almost an adult, here."

"Still not old enough to drink."

"Alright, then I won't drink."  You shrug.  "Or start any wars.  Promise."

You think, maybe, they all can read each other's thoughts from the amount of time they spend together—because Price's eyes sweep from Soap, to Ghost, then back to you and Gaz as he takes account of everyone's opinions on the matter.

Then, he lets out a breath, shaking his head.

"Fuckin' hell," he chuckles.  "Alright.  Don't see why not…next time we're out, we'll take you with."

You crack a grateful smile, happy to have something to look forward to after all this chaos is over.  It's short-lived, though, because Soap scoffs—lifting himself from his crossed arms to lean back in the seat.

"Price," he speculates.  "Aren’t they supposed t'be hidin'?”

Something thuds under the table, and by the heated look Soap and Ghost immediately shoot each other, you think it's safe to say Ghost kicked him.  Before you can open your mouth to retort, however, Price beats you to it.

"They've done a damn good enough job of hiding so far, Sergeant."

"They're a kid.  What could they possibly know about anything?"

Your brow furrows.  This time, though, you find your voice.

"The hell did I ever do to you?"  You ask, fists tightening under the table.  "I didn't ask to be here."

"Yeah, well, I didn't exactly go to bootcamp so that I could babysit some orphan, either."

"MacTavish," Price's tone is thick with the closest thing to anger you've heard from him so far.  "Come off it."

The table is silent.  Ghost sits up straighter in his seat and Gaz clears his throat awkwardly.  You narrow your eyes at Soap, your heart rate beginning to pick up in your chest.  

"Do you have a problem with my dad or something?" You press.  "Because I'm not him."

"Aye, you’re not him, and that’s exactly the fuckin’ problem,”  he retorts quickly, jutting his finger into the wood of the table.  “You’re just his deadbeat, spoiled kid who he left behind after he brough a whole fuckin’ mission.”

Your chair launches backwards when you stand forcefully to your seat, rage running hot in your veins.  Soap seems a little surprised at your sudden outburst—eyebrows raised as he watches you stand.  

“You don’t fucking talk about him,” you all but snarl, hands on the table.  “This isn’t about him.  You didn’t know him, and you don’t know me.”

"Tell 'em, kid," Ghost murmurs, unfazed by your temper.

"Ghost, you're not helping."

"Good."

"You’re right.  We don’t know you.  Which is why we shouldn’t give you special treatment just because you’re some bigwig’s kid,"  Soap stands as well, looming over you.  You hold his gaze as he talks.  "You were bound to get roped into this shit sooner or later, and y'knew that.  S'not the time for you to play the scared-little-kid card.”

“I am not fucking scared.”

“Then why did you run?  Bite me?  Why won’t you hand over the fucking codes?”

Your heart beats wildly in your chest.  Your mouth opens, but you don’t have an answer.  You never had the answers—and you don't have a response.  Instead, you scowl and avert your gaze.

“That’s right.  You’re just some fucking charity case,”  He points a finger into your chest.  "Just the fucking delinquent mutt the C.I.A. dragged in that’s better off back in the system that made you this way.”

Something boils over, then.  Two weeks of fear and uncertainty melting into something like molten lava.  It's wicked and hot and sharp as it floods your chest and moves your muscles before you even have a chance to think clearly.  Before you realize it—your knuckles collide with the side of Soap's cheek with a pain that burns so good it's invigorating.

The table erupts in shouts and curses, and Price grabs your arm.  You try to wretch free, but it's no use, and you're dragged around the corner and out of earshot.  When you finally pull your arm away, he grabs it again, pulling you close so he can whisper.

“The fuck has gotten into you?”  

“Did you not hear any of that?”  You retort.  “You aren’t gonna fucking back me up?!”

“You make it a little hard to when you’re knocking my sergeant’s teeth out, mate.”

You grit your teeth.  “It was long fucking overdue, and you know that.”

Price sighs.  Aggravated, he squeezes the bridge of his nose between his fingers, shaking his head.  “This was a bad idea…”

“Then let me help!”  You grab his sleeve as he pulls away, desperate.  Now that the words have started, you found it hard to stop them.  “He’s right.  I’m a fucking burden.  I don’t know shit about anything.  Not the fucking codes, not how to fight, how to make bombs or shoot a gun—I’m terrified and I’m useless and I’m fucking tired of it!”

“No.”  Price breathes, meeting your gaze again.  “I made a promise I’d keep you safe.  Keep you out of this.”

“To who?  My dead dad you never met?”  You laugh bitterly through the tears that prick your eyes.  “I have nothing, Price.  I haven’t for years.  And now you guys show up and give me an opportunity to make something of myself and you think I’m just going to be okay with hiding?”

He scowls.  Seeming conflicted, or just trying not to lose his patience and yell at you, he turns away.  You turn to hold his gaze, preventing it.

"Look, you've done a lot for me and I appreciate it.  I do.  But this is the only thing I'm gonna ask of you."

You squeeze the sleeve of his fatigues.

“Let me avenge my dad, Price,”  you’re begging now, looking up at him.  “Please.”

You hold his stare for a while.  Blue eyes soften, just slightly, as he considers your words.  Considers you.  You think, maybe, he might actually look unsure of himself and his next words as he stares at you, and his mouth opens as if he’s about to say something.

Then, the room is engulfed in a red light.  

You yelp at the alarms that sound—latching onto his arm.  John’s head whips around, confused, to the light above the door that flashes red across the room.  You hear footsteps and yelling before Gaz appears in the doorway, eyes wide and out of breath.

“Captain,” he pants.  “We gotta move.  Graves found us.”

@brokenpieces-72 @warenai @karurururu @pertinentpostmortem @kaoyamamegami @hayleybarnesx @nostalgialeech @scuftryo @0alk0msan @synthe4u @stunkbiggu @bebobeboben

#kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty x reader #call of duty reader insert #simon ghost riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #john price x reader #task force 141 #task force 141 x reader

[chvoswxtch]

checkmate

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: now that frank was gone, you were left alone to your own devices. could you protect yourself if trouble came knocking at your door?

warnings: swearing, lots of angst, brief mention of bomb violence, mentions of gun violence, blood, & death

word count: 4k

a/n: buckle up, sluts (i love y'all sm). shit is about to get real. ;) but don't just take my word for it. grab a snack, a drink, & get comfy. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

[previous chapter] | [next chapter] | [series masterlist]

9:29 pm. 

The catastrophic events of today didn’t feel like they had happened just this morning. They didn’t even feel real at all. They seemed more like glimpses of a purgatory from an alternate dimension that somehow had been implanted into your head. How had your world become so goddamn unrecognizable in less than twelve hours?

Life as you knew it had unraveled right before your eyes in one fell swoop like a cruel magician’s trick. For the first time in months, you were terrified to leave your house again, and there was a gaping pit of loneliness carved out in your stomach.

Because Frank was gone, and he was probably never coming back.

Saline seared along your waterline as your last interaction with him replayed behind your glossy eyes on a loop. He had looked so detached, the usual warmth of his brown eyes snuffed out with a layer of black ice, face completely void of any emotion like a blank canvas.

He didn’t even say goodbye.

He didn’t say anything.

Every comet that flashed across his lips at one of your stupid little jokes. Every tiny gesture that brought him closer into your orbit. Every universe you discovered when he revealed more and more coveted constellations of himself to you. The asteroid he threw with his fists at the bar that night. The rockets he was always ready to launch on your behalf. The way all the planets had aligned just right when he glided with you around the dancefloor made of the stars.

All those intimate moments you carried around in your heart like a locket meant nothing to him.

You had only ever been a job to Frank, and that epiphany broke something inside you that you didn’t think could ever be fixed.

Sitting at your dining table staring off into the void of silence, it felt like you were wandering aimlessly through an abandoned forest in your mind. When was the last time you had felt so…lost? It was difficult to navigate a path when your whole world had been flipped upside down, right as you were ascending to the peak above the clouds. 

Ellison had politely demanded you take a few days off, or work from home, until there was a plan of what to do next regarding your safety. He didn’t know the details of why your security detail had been pulled, but the absence of Frank’s shadow was unmistakable. It was a glaring vacancy not even the darkness could hide. Coupled with the intense gloom of dejection lingering on your face and the desolation melting from your eyes, it wasn’t a hard mystery for him to solve.

Covering your face with your palms, you suddenly felt like a little girl again, hiding under the blankets and covering your eyes to hide from the villainous shadows that lurked in the corners of your room. You remember thinking that if you couldn’t see the phantoms, they couldn’t see you, and then they couldn’t hurt you. 

That logic made sense in your head at the time. Before you learned that monsters are real, and they don’t go away when you hide behind your hands. 

The sharp sound of clamorous repetitive knocking against your front door echoed through the quiet and caused you to jump with a noise of surprise. Glancing over at the clock on your microwave, your brows knit together in confusion as you read the glowing digital numbers. 

10:31 pm.

A second round of impatient knocks had you slowly rising from your chair, tip-toeing around the corner towards your front door as noiselessly as you could, not wanting to alert anyone on the other side of your presence. Leaning up to peek through the peephole, the perplexity weaved between your brows only grew seeing two officers standing outside your door. 

Despite the advice from your gut, curiosity got the better of you, and you unlocked the two locks in place, twisting the knob on the door to pull it open slowly. 

“Can I help you?”

The first officer straightened up when you opened the door, placing his weathered hands on his belt as he eyed you up and down in a way that had discomfort blooming in your lower stomach. 

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

Glancing between the icy gray eyes of the first officer and the sharp aquamarine of the second, your grip on the door knob tightened slightly.

“I am. Who are you?”

The second officer folded his arms over his chest, peering right over your head like he was searching behind you for something, or someone. 

“I’m Officer Walker, this is Officer Cavella. You uh, home alone?”

Something in your gut was setting off all the warning bells and alarms in your brain. The way Officer Walker tilted his head to the side with an ominous twinkle in his eyes, and the slight mocking tone you detected in his voice made you feel like he knew that answer already. Beside him, his partner was still attempting to scope out your place over your shoulders. An eerie feeling crept up your spine, and you pulled the door slightly shut, only leaving it open enough for your frame to fit through as you attempted to keep your voice calm and unaffected.

“I’m sorry, what’s this about?”

Officer Cavella chuckled lightly as his tongue poked at the inside of his cheek, taking a bold step forward and gesturing towards you with his hand, a large Cheshire grin on his thin lips.

“Don’t worry, princess. We’re here to keep you safe. Just gonna take a look around for any trouble. Wouldn’t want anything happening to you, now would we?”

The pet name he used made your skin crawl, and you detected that same artificial sympathy that had come from his predecessor. You felt like a lamb staring down two wolves with their fangs bared in sinister smiles.

“I…think there’s been some confusion. I already have protection-”

“Had protection. After that bomb fiasco yesterday, you’re not under Anvil’s wing anymore. Right?”

Officer Walker lifted his thick brows in question, a saccharine smirk on his lips, once again daring you to challenge the answers he already seemed to have.

How did he know that? Hadn’t Billy told you Homeland was keeping the details under wraps? That the attack was reported as an accident?

An icy sense of unease caused goosebumps to prickle along your skin. There was only one way either of them would know about the bombing yesterday, and it had your heart thrashing against your ribcage furiously.

“Mr. Russo arranged alternate protection for me already.”

“They running late or something?”

Officer Cavella quipped, cocking his head to the side in an imitation of concern. But the wild look in his piercing eyes gave away his real candor. He took another daring step forward, breaching the boundary of your personal space, and bared his teeth in a crooked grin.

“Tell you what, why don’t you let us take a look around while you wait for them to show up. We can keep you company. Wouldn’t be right to leave a scared girl all by herself-”

“I’m not scared.”

The harsh edge to your voice had the pleased smirks dropping from both their faces, and you could visibly see their patience running thin. Pursing your lips, you attempted to rain in your hazardous temper before it could spark a situation you couldn’t handle alone. Clearing your throat, you brushed a piece of your hair out of your face with your finger as you focused on keeping your voice at a civil decibel.

“Listen, I appreciate the concern, but I’m fine. I don’t need either of you. Have a good night.”

A thick boot wedged itself between the frame and the door, preventing you from shutting it, and your eyes widened slightly when Officer Cavella braced his palm against the door, exerting a show of strength in forcing it back, and you along with it.

“Sorry princess, but we got orders.”

Your lips parted slightly in surprise at the intrepid intrusion, but his words piqued your interest, and your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared up at him.

“Orders from who?”

Officer Walker took a step forward and placed his arm in front of his partner to halt his movements, flashing him a warning glance before flipping a charming smile onto his lips when he turned his attention back to you.

“You know, this will really go a lot smoother if you just cooperate and do what you’re told.”

That one sentence nearly paralyzed you with dread that spread throughout your entire nervous system, threatening to shut it down completely. A sobering thought flickered in your head that if you didn’t play this smart, these men might kill you, or worse. Glancing between them frantically, your mind fought through the cortisol pumping furiously through your bloodstream, and you quickly started to formulate a plan.

Both of these men were far larger than you, and you didn’t know any self defense. They were without a doubt faster than you, and even if you made a run for it with a headstart somehow, they would catch you. You couldn’t fight, and you couldn’t run, which only left you one option.

Do your job. 

Treat this like any other investigation. 

Play your role, get your answers.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you forcefully swallowed your inner combative nature, slipping into a more appeasing version of yourself as you looked between them with a tired smile.

“Can we…start over? Today has been so hectic…and with everything going on, I’m just super on edge. I didn’t…I didn’t mean to take that out on either of you. I apologize. I…appreciate you looking out for me. Please, come in. Can I get either of you some coffee?”

The tension that had been lingering heavily in the space like a suffocating layer of smoke seemed to slowly disappear as the two men exchanged a glance in a secret language you couldn’t understand, turning to face you with their previous artificial smiles plastered on their thin lips.

“Coffee would be great.” 

Officer Cavella had a sickly sweet tone to his voice, and the pleasure in his eyes from your submission turned your blood into molten lava, but you fought to keep your composure, reminding yourself that your life was potentially on the line. 

On the way to the kitchen, you elusively swiped your phone and hid it behind your coffee machine, subtly pressing record on the voice memo app that was on your home screen. Once their coffees were done brewing and the machine was no longer making noise, you cleared your throat and began your interrogation.

“So, you guys must be pretty relieved huh?”

Officer Walker perked up at your words, the hand that was lifting the coffee mug to his mouth pausing in midair. He glanced at his partner curiously before looking back at you from his spot at your dining table.

“About what?”

You feigned confusion as you glanced between them with a light smile on your lips. 

“The evidence that Homeland found? Mr. Russo said they found something in the bomb fragments. It’s a really good thing Mr. Price had already checked out of his hotel room. He got lucky.”

“Looks like that pretty boy doesn’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Wasn’t Price’s hotel room that got blown up. It was one of his escort vehicles.”

For someone that was completely giving himself away, Officer Cavella looked thoroughly pleased with himself. He seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to indirectly insult your intelligence, but he didn’t realize that by trying to prove his superiority to you, he was feeding you everything you needed to confirm your suspicions.

Conveying an expression of mock horror on your face, you braced one of your hands on the counter, placing the other dramatically over your mouth.

“I…I must have misheard him then. I-Oh my God, that’s…terrifying. I couldn’t imagine…knowing I was in danger like that.”

You pretended to shudder, leaning your back against the counter as you shook your head slowly and crossed your arms over your chest. 

“Well, despite how it happened, I’m just glad they were able to pull those fingerprints from the fragments.”

“What?”

Officer Walker’s face was twisted up in puzzlement, but there was a specific emotion pooling in his eyes that caught your attention; fear.

“Yeah, I mean…they’re partials, but Mr. Russo said Homeland was pushing them through every database for a match. Didn’t they tell you that?”

Officer Cavella leaned over the dining table as he stared at you in almost a glare, his teeth bared more in a subtle snarl than a smile.

“Didn’t who tell us that?”

“Homeland. They sent you, right?”

Cocking your head to the side slightly, you attempted to feign innocence and perplexity.

“Russo sent us.”

Furrowing your brows slightly, you looked over at Officer Walker and let out a soft laugh with a shake of your head.

“He doesn’t have that authority. He only hires private contractors.”

“He put in a special request with our Captain.”

Officer Walker seemed to speak almost through gritted teeth, a light layer of warning laced through his quick reply to your incessant interrogation, but his patience was far more intact that his partner’s. 

Officer Cavella was the one you could get to break, and you knew just how to get him to shatter.

Aim for his ego. 

Letting out a soft hum in acknowledgment that you allowed to linger for a moment, you turned your attention to Officer Cavella, meeting his predatory gaze with an expression of indifference tied with a smile. 

“You know, it actually makes sense that Homeland didn’t tell you. They don’t usually share information with anyone that doesn’t have the security clearance. I guess you boys aren’t high enough up the ladder.”

You could tell by the look in his eyes that your playful jest struck a nerve exactly as you had intended. The skin on his knuckles turned stark white from gripping so tightly onto the ceramic mug, and his jaw was clenched so hard, you thought he might crack his own mandible. 

“I guarantee you we have more clearance than some gossip magazine writer.”

“Newspaper, actually. And investigative journalism, not gossip. You’d be surprised at the kind of clearance I have.”

Although you knew it wasn’t wise to inch closer towards a firecracker that was dangerously close to exploding, you were too fucking close to a lead that could expose these assholes; the first one that had been discovered in months. You couldn’t shy away now. 

The fractures in Officer Cavella’s resolve were already starting to spread like an intricate labyrinth cracking through glass. You just needed to apply a little more pressure to get him to implode into guilty fragments. 

Waving your hand dismissively in his direction, you glanced around your kitchen with a content sigh before facing him with an arrogant smile.

“I suppose it doesn’t matter who really sent you. They’ll have those full prints in just a few hours, and this whole thing will be over. Those cowards will finally go down, and I can’t fucking wait to cover the trial.”

There was an extra bite to your tone as you emphasized the word coward, and both of them instantly sat up straighter with squared shoulders. The neutral expression of innocence was still coveting your features like a mask, but the edges were steadily beginning to rip. 

All at once there was a quick shift in the room and an unspoken aura of understanding between the three of you was swiftly forming over all of your heads like a raincloud. They suddenly seemed to sober up to the motion that you were playing them like pawns.

“There won’t be any prints.”

Officer Cavella seemed to be vibrating with anger, and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Officer Walker reach to his hip to place his hand over his gun. There was a very real chance that you were about to die, but it didn’t matter. 

Because you would fucking win in the end.

You just needed one of them to make that last, foolish move across the chess board.

One final move to win the game.

“Why not?”

There was no reason to bother hiding behind a facade now. That mask of innocence had been ripped wide open, and even though your hands trembled with fear, your jaw was set in defiance. Your voice was firm and accusatory, daring him to prove his “superior” intelligence to you again. It was incredibly ironic he was being outsmarted by being so fucking stupid.

As you stared Officer Cavella down in a glaring challenge, you waited for that spark to reach the edge of his temper.

And the explosion was glorious.

“Because we don’t use our bare hands you stupid bitch. You think we’re that dumb, we wouldn’t use gloves?”

Checkmate.

Officer Walker slammed his fist down on the dining table in complete frustration towards his partner.

“God damnit Cavella, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Cavella rose from his chair so fast that he knocked it backwards, glaring between you and his partner as he pointed an angry finger towards you.

“You think I’m gonna let this whore talk to me like I’m fucking stupid-”

Walker stood to his full height quickly, shoving his own chair back as he got in his partner’s face and jabbed his finger into his chest. 

“You are fucking stupid! You just sold us out because you can’t control your goddamn temper!”

Cavella shoved his hand away in frustration as he scoffed, gesturing towards you again.

“Whatever, we’re gonna kill the bitch anyway-”

“No. He wants her alive. If we bring her back with one scr-”

“Who?”

Both of them turned to face you as your voice rose in volume to cut above their bickering. There wasn’t a single cell in your body that wasn’t infected with anger, and you were struggling to contain your own rage.

“Who wants me alive? Who’s the fucking pussy behind the curtain leading the rest of you around?”

Cavella swiftly pulled the gun from the holster on his hip as he took a step towards you, cocking the hammer with his thumb while snarling at you.

“Keep running that fucking mouth of yours and you won’t get to solve that mystery, Nancy Drew.”

As you went to retaliate, you noticed a shadow flash past the window in your kitchen, and your brows knit together in confusion. You were too pissed off to even be afraid as you glanced between Cavella and Walker.

“Who’s outside?”

Walker instantly stilled his advance at your words, his grip tightening on the handle of his gun that was still tucked into his holster while looking over at you in skepticism.

“What?”

“I just saw someone outside. Is that your fearless fucking leader? You gonna show your face like a man?! Or hide in the dark like a fucking p-“

Walker tugged you backwards roughly by your arm when you went to storm towards the window, clamping his hand tightly over your mouth to cut off your furious yells. His icy gray eyes were wide with apprehension as he hissed.

“Shut up. No one is with us.”

Glancing over at his partner, he silently motioned with his head towards him to go investigate. Cavella slowly began to approach the window with his gun in his hands, loosely aimed at whatever target he was about to discover. 

All of a sudden the sound of shattering glass pierced the silence, and your eyes widened seeing a metal canister rolling against the tiled floor of your kitchen. It exploded into a thick fog of ivory smoke that steadily began to fill the small space. Cavella began firing blindly through the gaping hole in your window, and you took the opportunity to run while Walker was distracted and yelling at his partner. 

You could hear Walker’s heavy footsteps pounding on the floor behind you, yelling your name, and you screamed when a bullet whizzed by your head and punched through the drywall in front of you. 

The second you reached your bathroom, you attempted to slam the door shut, but Walker caught the spine of your door and wedged it open with his hand. Turning around, you forced all your body weight back against it, struggling against his dominant strength. Glancing around in a frenzy, you reached your foot out towards the counter of the sink in front of you, and with a surge of adrenaline, you let out a feral scream as you shoved both of your feet forward against the sink to give you momentum against the door. A satisfying crunch sounded in your ears as Walker howled in pain and retracted his broken hand, causing the door to finally slam shut behind you. You swiftly twisted the lock into place on the door before backing away.

The sound of bullets raining down in rapid succession had you covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut as you attempted to breathe. Your lungs burned from running as fast as you ever had in your life, and with anxiety overflowing in your bloodstream, you were on the brink of hyperventilation. 

“Who the fuck are y-”

Bang bang.

The echo of two bullets cracking through a skull you could only assume belonged to Walker had your breath hitching in your throat. Muffled through the sound of your own labored breathing, you could hear his body drop to the floor just a few feet away from the door with a heavy thud. Your eyes went wide with terror as the thundering roar of heavy footsteps began to slowly strike closer and closer outside the door.

No. 

This isn’t how this ends.

This is not it.

Eyes frantically darting around your bathroom for something to use as a weapon, they landed on the horrified reflection of your own face. There was a small cut above your eyebrow from where a shard of glass had nicked you that was actively bleeding. Your pupils were completely blown wide open with hysteria, and your waterline was shimmering with unshed tears. You hadn’t seen yourself look this small and broken since you were a child.

Without thinking, you smashed your fist against the glass, sending hazardous shards falling into pieces in the sink like shiny raindrops. Grabbing the biggest one, you didn’t even flinch when it sliced deeply into the meat of your palm, and you only sent the jagged edge further into your skin as you clamped your fingers around it tightly, slicing them in the process. Your brain barely registered the warm, wet feeling of blood starting to cascade from the wounds on your hand, dripping onto the floor below you steadily like a leaky faucet.

Staring at the door in front of you in complete terror, you held the makeshift weapon out in front of yourself. The way the lights above you caught the reflection of the glass everytime it shook in your hand caused spheres of white to dance along the bathroom walls, as if there were a mirrorball on the ceiling.

As soon as the threatening shadow appeared right underneath the door, you willed the last shard of strength in your body to take over.

“Stay the fuck back! I have a gun, and I swear to God I will shoot you!”

Panic trembled in your voice almost as much as it did in your hands. On the other side of the door you heard a faint rustling noise, and then there was a gentle tapping of knuckles quietly knocking against the wood, accompanied by a voice you would recognize anywhere.

“Sweetheart?”

tags: @twoshields @day-dreaming-goddess @messymissy @itwasthereaminuteago @strawberry1042 @queenofthenoobs @wanda2themax @xcastawayherosx @ferns-fics @stevenknightmarc @ponyosmom35 @babygal-babygal @wellwwhynot @oldermenaremyreligion @combustiblemeow @tired-night-owl @fairykiss32 @danzer8705 @calkissed @fxckahs-blog @lemon-world1 @yeah3459 @collaps3r @polskiperson @imperihoe @v4leoftears @harperdoodle @spideyvibez @joalslibrary

#frank castle #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x reader #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #frank castle series #the bodyguard series #bodyguard!frank castle fic #bodyguard!frank castle series #bodyguard!frank castle x reader #the punisher #the punisher fic #the punisher series

[say-al0e]

Whole Lotta Love

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, minors DNI!

Summary: Coming home for spring break means getting to spend an entire week with Eddie. And he’s missed you just as much as you’ve missed him. | Ft. “Fuck, I’ve missed touching you,” + “I’ll do anything you want. All you have to do is ask,” requested by @/rebeccaperegrine-blog1

Pairing: Eddie x fem!Reader (college aged reader)

Warnings: A little insecurity, a mention of Hawkins giving weird vibes, some anxiety, a little loneliness, protected p in v, very light sub!Eddie, rusty smut (I’m sorry it’s been a while, I’m out of practice)

Word Count: 5.4k (I’m so sorry I don’t know what happened)

Stranger Things (Eddie and Steve) Taglist | If you want to request an Eddie fic, click here.

After months of endless noise - the constant tap of heels against tile, the echoing laughter of the seventeen other girls that shared your dorm floor, the persistent hum of a thousand separate conversations melding into one, the occasional beat of this new record or that one - the silence of home felt overwhelming.

The absence of life, made that much more evident by the disappearing act your parents pulled, had you simultaneously relieved - able to think for the first time in weeks - and on edge as you wandered around the empty home in search of something to satiate your boredom.

Planning for the trip home meant cramming as much studying, writing, and working into the days leading up to your departure as humanly possible. The goal was to leave behind every possible worry - every homework assignment, every exam, every essay, every work assignment - and focus solely on enjoying your first spring break as a college student. There was plenty to do at home, anyway, especially when you planned to spend as much time as humanly possible with Eddie.

That plan - leaving most of your books behind, tossed onto the desk hidden in the corner of your dorm room, and becoming so busy with Eddie that you barely noticed the passage of time - would’ve worked flawlessly, had you not returned home two days earlier than expected.

There were moments that you, selfishly, forgot that the lives of your loved ones moved on without you, that their days continued to pass without your presence, and as glad as you were that their world continued to spin - Hawkins continued to exist, in all of its faded glory - you felt a bit of the loneliness your mother joked about as you climbed the stairs to your bedroom.

It was easy to pretend that you didn’t miss home - didn’t miss your parents, your friends, Eddie - when you spoke to them several times a week. It was easy to pretend when you were surrounded by people and buried beneath the weight of this assignment or that one, this deadline for the school paper or that snippy comment leveled at you by your editor. But when left to your own devices, it was easy to remember just how much you’d missed in the few months since you’d last made the trip home.

Instead of wallowing in their empty nest, your parents were sitting at the home of a friend - another empty-nester, whose daughter lived in the same building as you - enjoying dinner and games. There would be time later to see them, to get annoyed with their parenting, so the slight sting of disappointment you felt at their absence was of little concern to you.

Eddie’s absence, however, weighed much heavier on you as you began to dig through the basket of tapes sitting on your dresser. He, like your parents, wasn’t expecting you until Saturday so there was no ill-will as you realized he would be spending most of his night with Hellfire. There was no answer when you called him upon first arriving at home - not a surprise, given that he’d likely had other plans between school’s ending and Hellfire’s beginning - so you were simply counting down the hours until you could try again.

Knowing Eddie - and the ragtag bunch of freshmen he’d chosen to continue the club upon his graduation - it would likely be a few hours more and time seemed to be at a standstill. Having him so close, only a few miles between you, and not being able to see him was infinitely worse than being separated by a hundred miles.

Still, you knew that you’d get to spend a week with him and decided to hope he’d return home sooner rather than later instead of making the journey to Hawkins High in search of him. 

With that in mind, you popped a tape into the player, grabbed the most worn book on your shelf, and settled onto your bed in a desperate bid to rush time along. But it seemed as if only a few minutes had passed when, as you lounged - a copy of The Illustrated Man in hand and the nearly worn out tape Eddie gave you when you first began dating filling the stifling silence - you heard the quiet tapping at your window. 

For a brief moment, you wondered if the tape was beginning to wear out - it was nearing a year old and you played it often, especially now that you and Eddie no longer saw one another on a daily basis - but the noise grew louder as the song played on.

The rational part of your brain, the part that had been on edge since returning to Hawkins, told you that it was nothing more than a branch tapping against the window as you marked the page in your book and tossed it onto the bed. The paranoid part - the part that seemed to assume the worst, especially at home - begged to differ.

Quietly, you climbed from the bed and slowly approached the window. 

Upon first glance, it seemed as if your initial instinct had been right. The dim orange glow of a streetlight illuminated the night, showcased tree branches fluttering in the wind and little else, and calmed your racing heart slightly as you heaved a heavy sigh. 

Despite how eager you were to see Eddie, returning to Hawkins had - understandably - set you on edge. However, you refused to let the twinge of unease that settled in your chest upon crossing the county line ruin your break. This would just be another funny story to tell Eddie - a way to convince him to let you choose a movie other than The Evil Dead - when you were finally reunited.

However, before you could reach out to lock the window and return to your bed, a mess of dark hair and a flash of white fabric filled your vision. As the window began to slowly rise, creaking slightly as it lifted, you scrambled across the room toward your closet. But as you reached for the softball bat still nestled in the back of your closet, a peal of familiar laughter echoed through the room.

The instantaneous relief you felt was coupled with an excitement that you couldn’t quite contain - even as your heart felt as if it might beat out of your chest - when Eddie began to fold himself in through the now open window. His presence, though unexpected, was a welcome surprise and you wanted nothing more than to cross the short distance that separated you and pull him into a long overdue embrace. However, you couldn’t help but huff in faux annoyance as he continued to giggle.

“Jesus Christ!” The heavy thump of Eddie’s shoes hitting the floor nearly drowned out the exclamation as he pulled himself through the window into your room. He stumbled slightly - out of practice after so many months - before straightening to his full height and snickering as you tossed a pillow at him. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Eddie grinned brightly, eyes shining with mirth, as he tossed the pillow back onto your bed before leaning against the windowsill. His eyes tracked your movements as you folded your arms over your chest but he made no effort to hide his amusement. He knew you well enough to know that you weren’t annoyed - not really, anyway - and was able to read the relief in your expression as you waited with narrowed eyes for his response.

“I was trying to be romantic,” he asserted, though the grin on his lips made you doubt his intentions. “I was gonna be cheesy and throw pebbles at your window but I figured your parents would be pissed if I broke it.” When you made a face - he wasn’t wrong, your parents liked Eddie but that didn’t mean they would happily overlook a broken window - but made no effort to close the distance between you, he tilted his head and pouted. “I’m sorry. We haven’t seen each other in forever and I wanted to surprise you.”

With a sigh, you reached out to shut the closet door and shook your head fondly. “Well, color me surprised.” A moment of silence passed as you slowly crossed the room and stopped a few steps away from him. “You know you could’ve come in through the front door, right? My parents aren’t home.”

“I know,” he nodded. His eyes met yours as he pushed away from the windowsill to stand to his full height and flashed with a light you’d missed more than you cared to admit. “Call me nostalgic. I’ve missed sneaking into your room, thought this way would be more fun.”

Instead of giving in to the urge to close the minuscule gap between the two of you, just as you knew he wanted you to do, you hummed thoughtfully. “How’d you even know I was home? Isn’t tonight Hellfire?”

Eddie nodded easily as he took a tentative step forward, grin badly hidden as he made a soft noise of disappointment. “Oh, how easily you forget just how fast word travels in a town as small as Hawkins. I heard you were home from no fewer than five different people before I could start setting up. So, naturally, we postponed and the freshmen will live to die another day.”

The quirk of your brow made him smile - a real, soft, shy smile that made your heart skip a beat - and you couldn’t help but return it as you took the final step and closed the gap between your bodies. This time, the quirk of your brows was an honest reaction - surprise and awe, a giddy gratitude that made you nearly breathless as you realized the weight of his words. "You postponed for me?”

Nearly a year ago, the thought would’ve been met with skeptical laughter - Eddie postponed Hellfire for no one - but now, he simply shrugged.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he repeated, voice going quiet as he searched your face for the answer to a question he had yet to ask. “I see them all the time.” He spoke as if that was the most obvious answer he could give and, knowing Eddie, it was the only thought that crossed his mind.

Knowing there was nothing you could say that would adequately express your emotions - overwhelming joy, an immense relief, at being in his presence once more; the feeling of returning home, settling back into the space you know you were made to occupy; a warmth that eclipsed the loneliness you’d been struggling with - you reached out to cup his cheeks and tugged him forward. You caught the flash of his smile as he willingly allowed you to pull him into an eager kiss, lips clashing in a way that felt so familiar and achingly foreign as you relished in being able to touch him once more.

Despite the initial reaction to your relationship with Eddie - confusion, disbelief - you knew that there was no one you’d rather be with. Returning to his embrace made more sense than anything you’d ever done and settling back into this moment made you feel as if you’d never left Hawkins in the first place.

The weight of his touch, the scent of smoke and leather, the warmth of his body - it all combined in a way that ignited a spark you’d been neglecting for weeks. There was no place you’d rather be, no sensation you’d rather feel, and you knew Eddie felt the same way as he slotted himself against you. His hands fell to your hips, ringed fingers digging into your skin as he held you close, and you sighed into the kiss.

Though you would’ve been content to live in the moment forever, mouths slotted together and bodies pressed firmly against one another - his warmth bleeding through the soft fabric of his Hellfire shirt, into your skin as he licked into your mouth - the need for oxygen grew to be too great.

As you pulled away, Eddie laughed quietly and scanned your face with dark eyes. “Hi.” He grinned brightly as his fingers dipped beneath the hem of your t-shirt and settled into a familiar position, gently brushing your rapidly heating skin. The weight of his touch calmed any lingering anxiety that plagued you, washed away any hint of loneliness, and made you laugh as he asked, “Miss me, princess?”

Some small part of you wanted to lighten the moment, brush off his question with a teasing compliment or a flirty remark, but you knew Eddie. Just as you’d been anxious and alone, so had he. Beneath the lighthearted question, a kernel of insecurity - buried deep, nearly erased by the time you’d spent together - threatened to burst. You could see in his eyes that he was truly asking, searching for a reassurance that his longing for you was returned, so you gave him the most honest answer you could muster.

“More than you know, Eds.” There was a stack of letters sitting on your dorm room desk - and surely a matching pile somewhere in Eddie’s bedroom - that attested to the longing you both felt for one another but words on paper mattered so little when you were finally breathing the same air once more. “I didn’t really think it was possible to miss someone this much.”

A look of awe - something verging on disbelief - flashed across his face, however, as quickly as it appeared, it was replaced with a soft smile as he surged forward to pull you into another kiss. The kiss, though clumsy, calmed your heart. And though it had been nearly two months since you’d last seen one another, it felt as if no time at all had passed as his lips found yours. His body slotted easily against yours, as if the space between you never existed in the first place, and never faltered as he poured every ounce of longing he could muster into the kiss.

Eddie relaxed into the embrace, his body becoming soft and pliant, and sighed as your tongue traced his bottom lip. His hands dipped beneath the hem of your t-shirt and you could feel him smile as you shivered at the cool press of his rings against your heated skin. Without wasting a moment, he tugged you closer - desperate to eliminate any remaining space between you - and pulled away just enough to meet your eyes.

Calloused fingers, rough from years of playing the guitar, mapped the path you knew he’d trace later with his mouth, as he laughed quietly. “Fuck,” he sighed, eyes dipping to your mouth before lifting once more to meet your gaze, “I missed you.”

There was little else that needed to be said; there would be time to catch up later, time to laugh about the way Hawkins never seemed to change and how excited he was to graduate, time to wax poetic about how much you missed one another and how glad you were to be together again. For now, the only thing that mattered was getting reacquainted.

The smirk on Eddie’s lips made you roll your eyes as you fisted the leather of his jacket and tugged him forward. With no hesitation, Eddie allowed you to guide him away from the window, toward your bed. There was no question of where this was headed - as much as you missed simply existing alongside him, you’d missed touching him nearly as much - so he eagerly walked backward.

Quiet laughter escaped him as you shoved at the heavy garment the moment his thigh bumped the edge of the mattress. He shifted away just enough to shrug it off - tossed into a corner to grab later - before he allowed himself to fall onto your bed and pull you down with him.

A soft grunt left his mouth as you fell, body slotting between his spread thighs, but he gave you no time to apologize as one hand lifted to cup your cheek. Warm fingers splayed across your jaw, fingers digging into the hinge, as he lifted to meet you in another kiss. The music, once so prominent in the back of your mind, faded into white noise as the world ceased to exist around you. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hands on your skin, his mouth on yours, and the soft moan he released as you tangled your fingers in his hair and tugged.

As you shifted above him, hips dropping to settle comfortably on his lap, Eddie groaned and dropped his hands to your hips. Eagerly, he nudged the fabric of your shirt up, bunched it higher and higher, and grinned when you pulled away long enough to help him tug it over your head. In that moment, he took advantage of the opportunity to shift you and the world seemed to spin as you settled against the pillows.

Eddie’s hands traced your now exposed skin as his eyes met yours. The feeling of his touch, simultaneously so familiar and foreign after months apart, pulled a soft sigh from your mouth as your hands lifted to tangle in his hair once more. He looked pleased at the response, happy to have you beneath him once more, and grinned as he shifted to slot himself between your thighs.

Careful fingers skated down your chest, tracing an eager path to the waistband of your shorts, as dark eyes shifted to explore your exposed skin. You could feel the tickle of his hair against your skin, the warmth of his breath fanning across your hip, and knew that he could hear the change in your breathing as you waited for him to touch you.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighed as he dropped his hands to trace the delicate skin of your inner thighs. “I missed touching you,” he admitted before leaning in to press a soft kiss just above your hipbone. “It’s been a long few months.”

The sight of Eddie between your thighs, dark hair mussed from your fingers and lips kiss swollen, never failed to set your skin alight. Though you always found him attractive, seeing the mess that became of him in moments like this made your heart race. There was something etherial about it, otherworldly, and you were grateful to see him like this once more.

While you studied him, eyes roving the mess of his hair, Eddie eagerly slipped your shorts down your thighs. Laughter bubbled in your throat as he tossed them over his shoulder and winced when he heard an object clatter to the ground.

“I’ll clean that up later,” he promised, though you knew better than to believe that he would. It would lie forgotten until you woke the next morning but the thought of teasing him dissolved as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your inner thigh.

Everything outside of this moment, outside of the feeling of Eddie’s fingers gripping your hips or the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin, ceased to exist. Nothing else mattered as you watched him lean forward, dark eyes glimmering in the lamplight, to nip at the skin of your inner thigh. The only thing you could focus on was relaxing into the moment as his fingers began to dip beneath the fabric of your panties.

“Can I touch you? I really, really missed this.” Despite the number of times you’d been in this situation, the words muffled against your thigh still settled low in your stomach. They wrapped around your heart and squeezed, had you eager for him to do more than lie between your thighs, so you nodded readily.

“Missed this, too,” you sighed, breathless as he shifted his hands to tug the material down your thighs. “You’re always so good to me, baby.” 

In the now silent room, it was impossible not to hear his sharp intake of breath as his eyes darted to yours. Pink dusted his cheeks, always so eager to gain your praise, and you nearly laughed at how eagerly he shuffled closer.

There would be time later for drawn out moments, for soft words and curious exploration. Now, after having gone so long without seeing one another, Eddie wasted little time settling squarely between your thighs to drag his fingers through the slick gathered there. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, lips pressing to the heated skin as his touch sent a shiver down your spine, and groaned when you tugged at his hair.

A warm hand gripped your thigh, fingers digging into the soft flesh, as he pressed his fingers into you. Dark eyes searched your face, watched for any hint of discomfort, and you could see the flash of reverence in them as he curled his fingers. He knew your body like the back of his hand, knew the spots that made you see stars, and eagerly set a pace that made you gasp and writhe beneath him.

His mouth traced your heated skin, teeth scraping the soft flesh and certainly leaving bruises in their wake, as he insistently pressed his fingers deeper. There was little grace in his movements, just an eager desire to have you moan his name, but this was what you’d been missing. It was endearing, knowing that he’d missed you just as much as you’d missed him, and seeing how eager he was to make you fall apart made your heart hammer in your chest.

When his fingers pressed against the spot that made you gasp, you could feel his lips curl into a satisfied smile. Eagerly, he shifted, pressed his face between your thighs, and lapped at your dripping folds. The combination of his fingers, his mouth, and the vibration of his moans pressing into you, working in tandem to overwhelm you, threw you over the edge much faster than you’d imagined possible. However, there was little time to be embarrassed as Eddie’s own moan rivaled the volume of yours. He pressed closer, eagerly lapping at your release, and only lifted his head when you used the grip on his hair to nudge him away. 

As you attempted to catch your breath, Eddie sat up and quickly tugged his shirt over his head. It followed the arc of your shorts, dropped to a pile on the floor, before he stood to shimmy out of his jeans and underwear. As he hopped out of the dark fabric, you sat up and laughed when he tilted his head to shoot you a wink.

Despite the flush in his cheeks, he stood unabashedly naked and allowed you to rake your eyes across his exposed skin for a moment. “Checkin’ me out, sweetheart?” He grinned when you laughed, eyes bright as he knelt onto the bed. He held his arms wide and raised an eyebrow as you traced the lines of his tattoos. “It’s the tats, right?”

The tattoos were never what attracted you to Eddie - it was his general countenance, the good you’d seen in him, and the soft smile that won you over - but you hummed thoughtfully, anyway. “Mm, totally,” you nodded, giggles threatening to escape as you shifted to make room for him on the mattress. “The tattoos really sealed the deal. Not like I had a massive crush on you before you had them or anything.”

As you shifted closer, knees pressing into the mattress, Eddie willingly turned to lie back and reached out to help you settle above him on jelly limbs. Dark eyes followed your every move as your hands moved to rest on his chest. The flash of disbelief in his eyes returned - as it always seemed to when you reminded him that you’d had a crush on him from afar before you began dating - as your fingers traced the tattoo just beneath his collarbone.

“Still can’t believe Hawkins High’s golden girl knew my name, let alone had a crush on me,” he teased, though you could hear the hint of insecurity that still lingered in his words. He knew that you loved him, that he was the one you’d chosen, but it sometimes blew his mind that you continued to choose him.

“It’s been years. I don’t think that crush is going away any time soon,” you teased, lips curving into a soft smile as you leaned down. “I’m kind of in love with you, you know?”

Eddie grinned and closed the gap between you with a soft kiss. “I’m totally in love with you,” he admitted, laughing as you tilted your head and smiled.

For a moment, you simply studied him - eager to commit the sight of him beneath you to memory - before you raised a brow and asked, “Can I ride you?” He nodded, eager as always to hand you control, and you smiled as you gently raked your nails across his skin.

He shifted beneath you, fingertips pressing into your skin, and your heart constricted as he laughed quietly. “You can do whatever you want, sweetheart,” he assured you with no hesitation, “all you have to do is ask.”

The glimmer in his eyes, so eager to fall back into your embrace after so long apart, fanned the flames of arousal licking at your skin. He looked so pretty, hair splayed across the pillow and lips kiss-swollen, that you couldn’t help but lean in to nip at the exposed skin of his throat. The marks you left on him would be obvious, easy to spot against his pale skin, but he wore them proudly.

Fingers, calloused from years of playing the guitar, dug into your bare skin as you raked your nails across the tattoos decorating his skin. “You’re so pretty.” Eddie’s breathing stuttered, soft noise of pleasure caught in his throat, as you mumbled praise against his skin. The words were muffled, softened by the press of your lips to the tattoo just beneath his collarbone, but you knew he’d heard them clearly by the way his fingers dug into your skin. “You make me feel so good. And I really, really want to return the favor.”

A quiet moan rumbled in his chest, easily betraying just how eager he was to feel your touch, as you shifted just enough to lean over and reach for the nightstand drawer. His grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave bruises, and you bit your lip to keep from laughing as he shifted his hips to gain some sort of friction.

“Fuck.” Eddie shifted beneath you, desperately seeking your warmth, and tilted his head to watch you dig through the pile of items you’d shoved into the drawer to hide the condoms before leaving for college. “Please, sweetheart,” he begged, voice breaking as you triumphantly hummed upon finding a foil packet in the very back of the drawer. “It’s been so fucking long. Just wanna feel you. Please, fuck me.”

The whining edge to his voice surged through you, dropped straight to your core, and set your skin alight as you ripped open the foil packet and shifted to roll the rubber down his length. You lifted your head to watch his eyes flutter shut, lips parting, as he attempted to keep from bucking his hips into your grasp.

There was nothing for you to say, no words that could make the moment any better, as you shifted onto your knees. Eddie tensed beneath you, his entire body tightening, as he prepared for you to sink onto him. His fingers pressed into your hips as his eyes darted between your face and the space between you, eagerly awaiting the sensation you’d both missed more than either of you cared to admit.

As you lowered yourself, fingers pressed against Eddie’s chest - his heart hammering beneath your palm - you bit your lip and lost yourself in the overwhelming fog of his presence. The sound of his voice, rumbling deep in his chest as he moaned; the warmth of his skin, pressed so close to yours; the weight of his touch, fingers anchoring into your skin; the stretch of him filling you - combined, the feeling of being so close once more hit you harder than you thought it would.

Feeling him beneath you, so eager to lose himself in you, made your heart ache as you leaned down to press your lips to his. Though you knew you loved him, it still surprised you just how much love you felt as you began to set a pace you knew he’d appreciate.

Moments like this, spent together in a bubble that consisted solely of each other, were few and far between. The distance had been difficult, soul-crushing at times, but knowing that he was still there - still just as gone for you as he had been the day you agreed to go out with him - made it that much more bearable.

There would be time for soft and slow later, time to drag out the bliss that you’d both missed, but the weight of Eddie’s hands on your hips - the strength of his grip, the sting of his nails digging into your flesh - spurred you on. You wanted him to feel the same bliss he’d made you feel, to feel the same pleasure, so you focused solely on pulling moans from his parted lips as you sank down onto him.

The pace you set was rough, quick and eager, but you knew that he didn’t mind as he tilted his head back and allowed you to nip at the hinge of his jaw. This wouldn’t last,  you both knew that, but with a full week to spend together, this would just be the first moment of many so when his breathing began to grow erratic, his heart began to hammer harder beneath your fingertips, you lifted your head to meet his eyes.

“Eddie,” you cooed, voice soft in the quiet of the room, “wanna feel you come for me. Please? You look so pretty when you come, baby.”

“Fuck!” His grip on your hips grew tighter, fingers digging into your skin, as he shifted his hips in search of more friction. He was chasing his own high - one that you would readily give him, as your own was just as quickly approaching - and lifted his eyes to yours. “Come with me? Please, sweetheart?”

He released his grip on your hip to dip a hand between your thighs and moaned when you jolted at the feeling of his fingers rubbing the bundle of nerves. Just as you watched him, eager to see his eyes flutter shut when he fell over the edge, he studied you as he pushed you toward your own end.

Almost too soon, you felt yourself barreling toward the edge - fingers and toes tingling with pleasure - and Eddie sighed in relief  as he planted his feet and began to shift his hips. He came first, a moan of your name on his lips, and nearly whimpered when you followed shortly after. 

After a moment, when feeling began to return to your limbs, you lifted yourself from his body and laughed as he rolled his head to the side and grinned at you. “I think you killed me,” he accused, voice shaking as he shifted just enough to roll the used condom from his length and toss it into the basket by your bed. “Fuck, I really missed you.”

“Mm. You just missed sex,” you teased, eyes meeting his as he settled into the space by your side.

“Sex with you,” he amended, though he was quick to shake his head. “I missed all of you. Everything about you. Can’t wait to hear all about your classes and your dick boss and that record shop you wrote about.” There was little doubt he wanted to hear about everything you’d mentioned in your letters and then some, little doubt he wanted nothing more than to spend hours catching up, so you nodded.

“I know, baby. Can’t wait to hear all about the newest campaign,” you returned easily as he tugged you close and wrapped an arm around your waist. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

As you lay in the quiet, limbs tangled together - calloused fingers tracing nonsensical patterns across your skin -, you considered yourself lucky. You were lucky to have fallen in love with someone like Eddie - someone genuine and sweet, kind and thoughtful - and grateful that you’d given one another a chance, even as you battled the distance that separated you. It was only a matter of months until Eddie graduated and then, there was no telling what the future would hold.

The only thing you felt certain of was that Eddie would remain by your side and that you would tackle the unknown together.

_________________________________________________________________

Author’s Note: THE CHOKEHOLD THIS MAN HAS ME IN. I just finished this fic and now I’m starting another for him. I haven’t written in like two months. Who am I. Send help. I even made him my phone background. I haven’t done that shit since high school. AH. Anyway. Have this. The first time writing for a new character is always the hardest. So. Fingers crossed the next one will be even better.

Taglist: @thisisparadisemylove, @meaganjm, @hopelesslylosttheway, @jxngwhore, @janine-sophie, @urofficial-cyberslut​, @tasmbestspdrman​, @noemotion2day, @umichlover​, @slvdsjjk​, @fezcosbaby​, @x-avantgarde-x​

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things imagine #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #v's fics