#of somebody else breathing and moving on the other end of the line

[todaviia]

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[peachpitfics]

Wildest Dreams

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Your Father has betrothed you to his eldest, most despicable friend. You confide in your closest friend, Benedict Bridgerton, that you wish your first time could be with somebody else, somebody you liked.

Length: 3.5k

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Propositioning a friend, first time, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, penetrative sex, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, orgasm.

a/n: Wildest Dreams is part i of iii ~ requested by anon here.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

The blood drained from your face, your hands clasped together in clammy nervousness – your father had just told you that since you have failed to successfully find a husband within the first year on the marriage mart, he will be arranging a betrothal between yourself and Lord Roger Howard. Lord Howard was six and sixty, he was your father’s eldest friend. Every interaction you ever witnessed was filled with contempt and disrespect, especially with service staff. His words were often filled with bigotry and unfairness. You found him repulsive, his yellowing chipped teeth in his villainous smile. The way his poorly maintained fingernails curled at the ends. His white moustache stained into unsightly colours from cigar smoke. The thought of having to be near this man, be intimate with this man, nearly drove you toward deaths door.

Your knees shook, standing from your armchair in the sitting room, not speaking a word to your father as you exited. Scurrying up the stairs, throwing yourself onto your bed, you felt your heart was about to burst out of your chest. Tears streamed down your face, you did your best to suck in deep breaths, but panic continued to wash over you. There was nothing you could do to save yourself from this fate. There had been some suitors interested in you, but you had chosen to wait, to see if the one person you had wanted would make himself available to you. Now it was too late, those suitors had moved on with other young ladies, and the man you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

Your lady’s maid knocked meekly on the door, having come to prepare you for this evening’s ball. The Queen would be there, and you knew she would be disappointed in this match your father had forced upon you, not that that would help you.

“Shall we get the family jewels out miss? I hear it is to be quite an exciting night” You could tell she was putting it on, trying to sound excited. It seemed to come off as patronizing instead.

“Whatever you should think is appropriate” You tried to keep your feelings to yourself, but the streaks through your makeup sold you out at first glance. You spent the rest of your preparation in silence, usually the two of you indulged in a little gossip, it was supposed to be fun.

All evening you hid behind larger groups, behind servers carrying trays of champagne, doing your best to ensure the inevitable could not happen. Finally, considerably late in the evening, your closest friend deigned to arrive. Almost surging across the dance floor and into Benedict’s side, you linked arms and impishly whisked him out through the conservatory doors.

“Miss Y/n” Benedict exclaimed, “What is the meaning of this?”.

You breathed heavily, ducking, and weaving through overgrown plants and florals. You scouted each entrance, paranoia clinging to your side like a child in a sack race.

“My father has committed a most heinous act” You spill to Benedict, there is only concern etched on his face, “I am to be married to Lord Howard”. Your breath never steadied, sweat beaded where your forehead met your hair line. There was that panic you remembered so fondly, only hypervigilance had eliminated that feeling from the centre of your chest.

“Oh lord,” Benedict’s mouth hung open, utterly flabbergasted, “I cannot believe he would do that to you” Both of his hands found their way to your shoulders in compassion.

“And yet he has. My own father has bargained me away to some elder beast! There is nothing I can do to stop it” Your hands ran through your hair, untangling one of the twists.

Benedict did not know what to say, all he could do was lurch forward and take you into his arms. His strong arms reached around you, pulling you tight. The sound of his steady breath and rhythmic heartbeat calmed you quickly.

“When I was a little girl, I wished on a falling star I would find someone who loved me as their equal. I now wish for that same thing on this very night. To think that I have wasted my life dreaming about love, finding someone like me, with the same interests, the same age as me even!” You thought aloud. Benedict was always someone you could tell your innermost thoughts to, he never judged you once, and he was the kindest of listeners.

Benedict Bridgerton also knew exactly who you were dreaming about – it was him. You had been friends for several years, and it had always been obvious to anyone with sight, that you and Ben were infatuated with each other. But Benedict was young, and impulsive, unlikely to marry at this time.

“I do not want to spend my life with that old simpleton! I want to experience life and love!” You cried out, “My elder sister divulged what it is married couples do on their wedding night – I do not want that with him! I cannot live my life without having ever experienced the touch of a man who cares for me!” Your cries turned into whispers; whimpers scattered throughout.

He held you close to him, making a caring swishing sound, it kind of sounded like the ocean. Benedict sure knew how to comfort you when you were in need.

“Y/N! Where are you?!” Your father’s voice echoed off the glass walls, sending you into a frenzy, quickly separating from Benedict, dabbing your cheeks with a handkerchief.

“Yes father?” You responded.

“Lord Howard is here with me. There is something he would like to say to you” Your father called. Benedict hid low amongst the broad-leafed plants, the darkness of the conservatory shading him. You appeared from the shadows without explanation, not that your father was seeking one. Lord Howard stood hunched next to your father, who was 20 years his junior. It appeared as though he bowed, but it was hard for you to discern.

“M…m…miss Y/n?” He stuttered, struggling to see through the spectacles at the end of his nose, “There is a question I must ask you. With the permission of your father, I am here to ask for your hand in marriage” Spittle flew from his mouth in between sharp consonants. Dread flooded your body, you felt like you were being submerged in a pool of water, the tears in your eyes, simply the only way for the water to escape.

There was animosity in your father’s gaze, warning you there was simply one answer to the question asked. Taking in a deep breath, “Yes, Lord Howard, I will accept” You murmured. Lord Howard did not look pleased, he did not appear bothered either, he simply nodded once and turned about, marching back to the main ballroom. You wondered if this was what your marriage was going to be like? Would he ignore your existence and leave you to your own life if you produced an heir? You could not ascertain whether this was a good thing or not.

Benedict hung his head, having watched this entire exchange from the shadows. There was an element of guilt on his part, he blamed himself, unable to give you what you wanted in time to save you. When your father had left you standing still, tears staining your dress, Benedict slid out from the darkness.

“I think I am going to ask the footman to take me home… I only have so much time before my time is not mine any longer” You lower lip trembled; the peaceful silence of the conservatory disturbed by the soft sounds of sobs.

“Y/n,” Benedict muttered, his hand running down your upper arm. Electricity connected your flesh in a zap, your breath caught in your chest as his skin joined with yours. His tender hands grazed yours, tickling the palm of your hand.

“Benedict” You shook your head, moving to take your hand away before he closed his around it. His tongue flicked over his lips several times as he contemplated what he had to say. Sometimes you heard the other young ladies tell stories about Benedict, you never knew if they were true. They spoke of how he was finest of the Bridgerton brothers, they also spoke of his rakish tendencies, however mostly in a jealous fashion.

The forecast in Benedict’s eyes swiftly shifted from clear blue to a stormy grey. You had not noticed how tall he was before, looming over you like a dark cloud. His face illustrated apathetic gloom, his hand boring you into him, like he was the eye of the storm.

“There is something I must speak with you about, in private” Benedict rolled his tongue aggressively on his teeth as he spoke. Everything about his demeanor was confusing, you felt strangely like prey, wondering why it felt good. Benedict snuck out the conservatory door, your hands clutched together while he led you to his carriage, asking his footmen to make way for the Bridgerton house.

“What is this about Benedict?” You asked as soon as the door was secure and the carriage moving.

“Y/n, please give me a moment and I will explain everything. I do not know if I have a solution to your problem, but I may be able to offer a compromise. Something I would only do for you, if you asked, because I care about you so deeply” Benedict paused, this intense look of thoughtful worry about him, “If you would be agreeable, I would like to suggest that I… bed you for the first time” Benedicts voice was low and resounding.

Your lips parted abashedly, your cheeks flushed pink, blinking became uncontrollable. All you could do was sit completely still, astronomically stunned by what Benedict had proposed. You understood that for whatever reason, Benedict could not give you everything you wanted, but he was offering you something. He was offering you an experience you may never have gotten to have otherwise, a chance to feel loved and wanted in intimate affection with another person.

“Say something, anything, please. I cannot stand this silence” Benedict rubbed his temples after a few minutes. His eyes were still dark with longing, he looked over with you a deviating sense of ownership.

“You would do that for me?” You entreated, hands shaking so hard you nearly sat on them to make it stop.

Benedict nodded surely across from you, the carriage pulling up at the Bridgerton house. Your eyes locked, the carriage completely still and silent, you took a moment to consider the ramifications of your choice. Ben’s posture was resolute, his gaze expansive, eagerly waiting for your reply.

“Yes” You swallowed hard, Benedict snatching your hand from your lap and dragging you from the carriage, running up the walk and into the house. You made short work of the very many stairs on the way up to his bedroom, sure that nobody could have seen you, as you ran that fast.

Blood rushing around your body, you stood just inside Benedict’s door, trying desperately to catch your breath. Benedict shuffled about the room, lighting a few candles, closing the windows for the evening. He looked back at you, having already stripped into your underclothes while his back was turned. A most shameful lust driven smile sketched lightly onto his face, he made the long voyage acrost the bedroom to stand a foot or two in front of you.

“Thank you for doing me this favor. I will owe you always” You remarked, your eyes dancing figure eights on the lush carpet squishing under your wiggling toes.

Benedict’s shoulders were more relaxed than you had ever seen them, his posture always just so. Strands of hair bled onto his sticky forehead, dark eyebrows brewing overhead transfixed eyes. That charming smile, filled with foolishness, had not been seen since leaving the ball – this was something so chronically serious to him. He effortlessly tugged at his maroon cravat, casting it to the floor, his proud neck craning to get another glimpse of you from another angle. His throat bobbed when he stepped closer again, just one more step. Fiddling with his waistcoat buttons ardently, watching the frustration set into your eyes, Benedict finally shed his coat and pitched it across the room, knocking over something unbreakable in the corner. It did not steal his gaze; his eyes were set on you. Benedict lifted his suspenders off his shoulders, allowing them to dangle by his hips, the chest of his white, silk undershirt gaping open. Your teeth instinctually bit into your lower lip at the slightest sight of skin you had not ever seen before. The corner of Benedicts mouth upturned smugly, his lips rolling together as his breath became audible. Standing just one foot apart, the tension between you was palpable. You wondered if someone had struck a match, might the room simply explode, there seemed to be so much chemistry between the two of you.

“Please, continue” Your hands pressed to your stomach, you watched as Benedict unlaced his boots, one foot at a time on the stool at the end of his bed. His blistering eye bore into you even still. Making his way back to you, still at hardly an arm’s length, his brawny arms crossed his body to pull his undershirt off over his head.

You swooned audibly, almost gasping seeing the entirety of his torso bare for the first time. Your lips wet, your eyes unblinking, Benedict smiled cheekily, knowing the effect he had on you. His hands moved past his navel, your eyes following, to the button atop his breeches. Benedict made quick work of his trousers, having teased you plenty. Your back straightened, your gob smacked jaw snapped shut at the sight of his naked body.

Benedicts tongue flicked over his teeth, “Would you like me to redress, y/n?” He badgered, pretending to reach for his shirt on the floor. You careened forward, lessening the space between you to essentially nothing.

“I do not know what to do, not truly” You admitted, feeling yourself choking on nothing. Benedict reached out to your hands, taking them in his, placing them on his chest. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head at the feeling of his light chest hair beneath your fingers. His sculpted pectoral muscles and taut stomach, a trail of dark hair leading you downwards made you feel ravenous for him. He looked at you as you looked at him, eyes filled with desire, faces pink in the candlelight. Benedict leaned in to kiss you, pulling away left at the last second to place a single kiss on your neck.

“You. Are. Wicked” Your face flitted over his, grazing your noses and lips together in potential kisses. Benedict leaned into you, his kiss soft, warm, and breathless. You gasped at the first separation, taking in hasty breaths before crashing back into each other. Everything you were doing felt completely wrong, reprehensible – but with a kiss as intoxicating as Benedict Bridgerton’s, you were afraid not even heaven could help you.

Your hands slipped into his thick, dark hair, pulling him down and into you, wrapping your arms around his neck and climbing up onto him. His hands rested under your thighs, carrying you toward his bed, you could feel his hardness pressing against you. 

This was not what you had been expecting, this was no impish boy. Everything about his movements was intentional, well-practiced. His hot, amorous kiss; the way his tongue slipped thankfully over yours, how his teeth greedily nipped at your auspicious bottom lip. His hands moved passionately across your back, his long kisses surprisingly hard on your neck, laying you down on the pile of bedding. He frantically shoved it off the bed, throwing pillows, knocking himself in the face once or twice. You laughed together, slow sizzling tongues dancing as one as Benedict removed your floor length under gown.

Benedict knelt above you on the bed, gently stroking himself, looking down on you. There was that dark cloud you had noticed earlier.

“I want you to enjoy me” Benedict rumbled, making you a promise. You did not yet understand, but you would. Taking his finger, Benedict dipped it into your mouth, bringing it to your nipple, rolling it between his finger and thumb at a glacial pace. His touch was peculiarly possessive, his lips rested around your other nipple now, sloppily dragging his tongue around in spontaneous circles. Big open-mouthed kisses surrounded your breasts, your shock and surprise manifesting in noiseless writhing.

Benedict positioned himself between your legs, lying down forcing your legs apart. Wanting to snap your legs shut, you refrained, trusting Benedict with your life. His breath was agonizingly warm on your inner thigh, his lips parted and gliding up from your knee. Benedict dotted small, chaste kisses along your hips – you deduced he was headed for the pinnacle of your thighs, a place you had never felt burn and ache quite like this.

His tongue slid gently up the slit of your pussy, you breath shuddered, his harmless laps amazed you with every movement. Eye lids fluttering, breathy moans filling the room, Benedict’s graceful tongue swirling your clitoris in curious patterns, drinking in your wetness as though you were a drug to him. Your fingers crawled down into his hair, your hips bucking toward his retreating tongue, you squealed lowly for more.

“Are you quite alright?” Benedict groaned into you, the vibrations of his voice set you on edge, your toes clenching in different ways.

“I do not know what you are doing, but I would like for you to keep doing it” You moaned intermittently, between gasps as his tongue flicked roguishly at your clitoris.

Benedict spread your legs wide and high, taking his finger and resting it at your entrance. He tediously sunk his finger inside you, curling up, making you yelp out in astonishment. Finding a steady pace, his finger already snug inside you, Benedict began at you again, never failing to find exactly the spot he was looking for. His alteration of speed and pressure backed you onto a cliff face, body incandescent and damned to revelry. Pressing his fingers into you rhythmically, Benedict pushed you over the edge, the sensation of falling and flying all erupting at once as you moaned and yelped uncontrollably. In the aftermath of your pleasure, you watched Benedicts eyes, his head still clutched between your legs gently sliding his tongue over you, his charming, sexy smile reflected in his eyes.

Slowing rising to his knees, Ben positioned your legs higher, resting your calves on his shoulders. Taking his cock in his hand, his pressed his tip against your wet skin. Your skin erupted in a tingling sensation, unbridled attraction and hunger liquefying your brain.

You looked up at Benedict in clear understanding, nodding gently, your eyes focusing on the powerful look of restrained urgency on Benedict’s face. He pushed forward smoothly, eliciting a groan from each of you, not even pressed to the hilt yet.

When Benedict filled your pussy fully, it felt like being winded. Panting like a dog under him, Benedict stilled himself, noticing how full and tight you felt, his cock twitching with pleasure. Benedict moved slowly at first, long unbroken strides forward, thrusting into you. Every drive forward, simultaneously blissful, and hot, curving to pound into that sensitive spot just inside you. While every drawback, was likened to slow-motion, devastating deprivation. Ceaseless, savage moans made Benedict grin above you, thrusting harder, wholly triumphant in setting you alight. You knew you would burn for him for the rest of your life.

“Make that sound for me again” Benedict grunted sinisterly, thrusting back into you brutally, forcing that loud intonation from you again.

Your fingers clawed at his back, your hips moving with his in most divine unison. Benedicts teeth grazed your ear, your breathing syncing in ceremonious adoration; his momentum increased, driving into you with new eagerness. Your nails buried in his plump behind, pulling Benedict tighter into you. With propulsive sureness Benedict plunged into you one last time, his cock twitching inside you to his irrevocable release. Never had you felt so full before, his face exquisite above you, leaning down to a soulful kiss.

“I’m proud of you, taking me like that” Benedict panted, taking a second before withdrawing and rolling next to you. He lay on the flat of his back, chasing his breath, his heart thumping through his chest, beating so hard you could almost hear it. His words made you blush, hiding your face in your hands, his seed leaking out of you onto the linen.

“It is not always going to be the same, is it?” You pondered aloud, staring at the detailing on the ceiling above you.

“I will not lie, y/n darling, I do not think every single instance will be the same” Benedict reached over, gently slapping your thigh in solidarity.

“That is disappointing to hear” You sighed dramatically.

Benedict chuckled sweetly, “Perhaps at his age, he will not have the capacity to complete more than the marital act”. You knew he was joking, trying to lift your spirits, but you genuinely hoped that might be true. Other worries began to plague your mind, worries of potential children. What if you were unable to conceive his heir due to his age?

You rolled onto your side, looking into Benedict’s clear, sky-blue eyes, “There may be another favour I ask of you, dear friend”. Benedict's eyes widened curiously, prepared to do most anything for you.

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If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fanfiction written by me, please let me know!

[inoreuct]

thinking about zoro being the crew's main protector.

it’s quite literally his role amongst the straw hats; luffy's captain, usopp's their sniper, sanji cooks, nami navigates, chopper's their doctor, franky's their shipwright, jinbei's their helmsman and brook's their musician but zoro? zoro's their swordsman. zoro’s their guardian. his job is to be the first line of defense and protect everybody else so they can focus on doing their own thing and sure, none of them really need protecting— but they don't have to worry about defending themselves, either, because whoever they can't or don't want to handle zoro will finish up (if he hasn't gotten to them first).

like imagine a bunch of idiots cornering one of the crew (bad idea.) and picking nami because she's the woman without a devil fruit, as opposed to robin (BAD idea.). they've got her surrounded in the dead end of an alleyway and have somehow neutralised her clima-tact and she’s not worried, she’s not.

but against twelve men and with her weapon essentially now just a regular staff, she might be panicking. just a little. she’s gotten a couple of them good enough that they’re down for the count before a chain wrapped around her ankle trips her. it pulls at enough memories, faded but never forgotten, to bring up a sickening wave of fear and anger— and nami decides that she’s had enough of the bullshit.

she takes a deep breath and screams. “ZORO!”

the silence afterwards is deafening. the wind shifts, gently lifting the pieces of hair stuck to her sweaty face, and the men laugh uneasily. one of them yanks hard on the chain and she spits at him, heels scrabbling against the dusty ground even as he starts reeling her in like a fish on a hook. “he can’t hear you, little missy,” he snickers, grin widening the longer nobody shows up.

it’s still on his face when his head slides right off his neck.

blood sprays right before his body crumples like a doll. it takes a second for the others to realise and then the screaming starts— none of them get any farther than three steps before zoro’s cutting them down, swift swings of his sword and almost surgically precise slices rendering them incapacitated if not plain dead.

“sorry i’m late, witch.” the swordsman’s breathing hard, gore dripping off his blades even as he arcs one down and snaps the chain off nami’s leg with a growl. “did they hurt you?”

“no. no, i’m fine,” nami breathes, her smile quivering just a little— not because she’s shaken, no. because she’s pissed.

zoro’s voice is gruff as always, but his hands are careful if not outright gentle as he kneels to inspect her ankle before pulling her to her feet. “stay close,” he mutters, making sure that she’s nodded before cutting them a path through the fray. they bump into chopper next, and the doctor’s out cold over zoro’s shoulder in his regular form by the time sanji joins them to guard their flank. nami’s taken to just using her clima-tact as a bat for now, and it’s admittedly efficient.

she knew zoro would come. he always does. for all that they bicker and snip at each other, zoro has always protected his crew— even when said crew was just three people on what could barely be called a boat. he’d fought for her at arlong park and he fights for her now, his sword slicing over her head at an enemy she can’t see as she ducks low to jam her staff into another’s stomach.

they’ve moved closer to their ship when they find jinbei, then robin, then usopp, then brook and franky, and then zoro’s yelling luff, time to go! and their captain’s launching them all back onto the Sunny with a gleeful cackle that makes nami wheeze a laugh as they land in a mildly painful pile of limbs. somebody’s elbow digs into her ribs and she’s pretty sure that’s sanji’s bony kneecap pressed into her lower back. the swordsman swears as he sets about trying to pry them all apart and luffy seems to be actively fighting him, based on how his cursing’s getting more and more colourful.

behind them, their enemies burn, sliced to pieces. they debrief in the galley and zoro refuses to come away from the door until nami drags him by the ear and sanji threatens to personally shove dessert down his throat. they both know it’s because zoro’s still guarding them from a threat that doesn’t exist anymore.

they know he pretends not to care as much as he does. they know he keeps his words blunt and his swords sharp, but zoro lets luffy hang off him, unfazed, and makes a marginal effort to stick to nami’s budget even when he’s getting booze, and he eats his dessert. every last bit. he lets usopp fire moving targets to slice through so they can both practice. he keeps collateral damage when sparring with sanji to a minimum. he stitches whoever needs it up himself when chopper’s a little too tired.

and when his crew calls, he answers.

(now with a part from nami’s pov!)

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 3]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I've been at home with not much to do today, so I decided to add the third chapter for you all before the weekend ends. Once again, thank you all for the kind words and taking the time to read this story. I've also decided to start a tag list, after being asked for it, so if you'd like to be included in that, please just let me know! x

Taglist: @khadeeeeej

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Series Masterlist

The warm, morning sun peeked through the opening of the drawn curtains in your hotel bedroom, covering everything in a glowing light. Your mind slowly awoke, piecing together where you were, and what happened last night. You smiled at the thought, and reached out for your fiancé to hold him. But the side of the bed that was supposed to be his was cold and empty, making you open your eyes and furrow your brows. 

You got up slowly, walked out into the living room portion of your suite, and your eyes widened at the bottles of alcohol lining the coffee table. Jimin was there, passed out on the sofa, in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. It made your chest ache for him, knowing he was slipping back into himself. 

“Honey?” You called out to no response. You walked over and kneeled down beside him, brushing his soft, blonde locks from his beautiful face. “Jimin…” 

He murmured something under his breath but refused to open his eyes, and moments later, he was back asleep as his body clearly tried to fight off the elevated alcohol levels in his system. You felt your eyes begin to tear up at the man in front of you, confused as to what could’ve sent him spiraling backwards. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again, baby.” You whispered through spilling tears, knowing from experience that it was useless. He can’t hear you in his state. “You fucking promised me, Jimin… I-I can’t be around you right now, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

With that, you stormed into the bedroom and slid into a quick pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your suitcase, grabbing your designer bag and phone. You began heading towards the door, but paused, looking back to the man you loved so, incredibly deeply. Not knowing what else to do to, you made your decision to look away from the heartbreaking disaster in front of you. You headed out the door, down the hall, and slipped quickly into the elevator to take you out of the building. 

The streets were busy, despite it being so early on a weekend morning. You loved the bustle of the city, as it offered a pleasant distraction. Watching people as you passed each other, you could easily slip into their life through your imagination. What job did they work? Were they single, or with someone? What did they like to eat? Did they have children? You could imagine it all, pretending to be somebody else in your mind, if only for a brief time. It was a coping strategy you learned as a girl, when you wanted to escape your own life, and the irony of it was never lost on you. You weren’t foolish, you saw the way people eyed your designer clothing, and you knew they must wonder what your life was like. They would never really knew that you would trade it all in for theirs, if it meant having a life that was just a little less complicated. 

Lost in thought, you had wandered several blocks down from your apartment, just exploring the beautiful neighborhood. You stumbled upon a homey-feeling American diner, with large windows on side, looking somewhat out of place built into the bottom floor of a large, very modern skyscraper. You could see in from where you stood across the street, and watched the staff bring coffee and delicious looking breakfast to each guest. The crosswalk light signaled green, so you began walking towards the restaurant, deciding to grab a bite to eat to clear your head. Maybe I could grab some yummy food for Jimin too, you thought, and talk things over while he sobers up. 

You entered through the front door, and the attached bell rang to alert the staff of a new customer.

“Good morning!” A sweet, red headed waitress with an apron tied around her waist called out in a sing-song voice from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, I’ll bring you a menu!” 

“Thank you!” You responded, looking around for a place to sit. It seemed as though the place was a packed house, with every booth being taken. 

But there, in the back corner, you spotted a familiar face. Or, what you could catch of his face, as it was buried in his menu, with wide, boyish eyes looking over each option. You were thankful to see him, thinking it an intervention of some sort to keep you from having to be completely alone with your thoughts.

“Excuse me,” You walked over to the waitress who had greeted you. “That man in the corner there is a friend of mine, is he with someone?” 

“No ma’am.” She responded, shaking her head. “He likes to come in often and eat by himself.” 

“I think I’ll sit with him and surprise him, then. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You smiled, which she returned. “Thank you.” 

You made your way over to him, with an unwavering grin on your face. When you arrived by his table, he still hadn’t looked up, lost on the seemingly endless food options on the menu. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? This place is so busy, I was wondering if I could join you?” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. The voice he would know anywhere, pleasant and gentle. 

“Y/N?” He responded, looking up at you. “What are you doing here? A-And of course, please, sit. Um, hi.” He mentally kicked himself for stuttering. Cool. He said sarcastically to himself. 

“Hi.” You giggled at his surprised and stumbling reaction. “I just decided to leave the hotel for a bit, and I spotted this place from across the street. It’s so popular, it must be delicious.” 

“Mhm, I come here sometimes and it’s always busy.” 

“Yeah? The waitress I talked to said she sees you in here often.” 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess she probably does.” Jung Kook said shyly. 

You both made small talk over the food, the neighborhood and the local things to do that Jung Kook has discovered in his short time being here. While the conversation itself had little significance, happening over modest diner eggs, toast and coffee, the feeling Jung Kook had was indescribable. He never forgot, even after years of being apart, just how easy it is to have a conversation with you. The way you listen so intently, and keep your attention, as though nothing else in the world mattered. It made him feel so special and seen. Your voice was just as sugary as ever, and your giggles never changed, still able to make his heart race. He wanted to hear that laugh forever, and he wanted to be the man who made it happen. 

“Where’s Mr. Park this morning?” Jung Kook asks, suddenly noticing that you were alone. 

“Oh, Jimin?” You paused, hesitation not going unnoticed by the perceptive man sitting across from you. “He, um… He just wanted to sleep in. Jet lag and all that, y’know?” 

“Oh, right.” Jung Kook nodded, not wanting to dig deeper into your pregnant pause. It isn’t my business, he thought. “He seems like a great guy, by the way. You seem happy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, praying tears didn’t come to your eyes. “Jimin’s really amazing, he always has been. But um, what about you, Jung Kook? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” Jung Kook chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I uh… I broke off an engagement back in Korea before moving to the city.” 

“You were engaged?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly. “I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.” 

Jung Kook paused, thinking back to the woman whose heart he broke, as he looked at the woman who he’s always truly loved. You’re the reason I couldn’t love her. He said internally, gazing at your face. 

“It’s ok. I just think she wasn’t the one for me.” 

“Yeah? It sounds like you believe that everyone has someone perfect out there, just for them.” You said with a smile, and Jung Kook looked at your face, adoring the way the morning sun attached itself to your skin, making you glow. “I think so, too.” 

“I’ve always believed that. Everyone deserves to find their happiness.” Jung Kook said, his tone shifting in a way you couldn’t quite place, but his chocolate brown eyes were delicate as he looked at you. He swallowed, his tone heavy yet genuine when he added, “I’m glad you and Jimin found each other.” 

Your lips parted, attempting to find words that weren’t there. So you just nodded and offered a polite smile. The silence was thankfully cut short by the waitress, who brought your check. You went to reach for your wallet, but Jung Kook pulled his card out first and laid it onto the table. 

“Please, let me.” He said, his voice warm. “We’ll call it a thank you, for surprising me. I’m glad you did.” 

“Ok.” You grinned, unsure as to why your cheeks were heating up at his compliment. 

While you and Jung Kook were lost in your breakfast and conversation, Jimin had woken up to an empty hotel room. His head ached, but no worse than his chest did when he realized your absence. He had wanted to crawl into bed with you, hold you tight, and apologize for what he had done in the best way he knew how; cover your body with love, and spend the morning buried between your thighs as he pleasured you with kisses and soft, pressured licks.  But when the bed was empty, the panic set in. 

Quick thinking led him to go to his phone, and find your location, as you always shared your location with each other. He spotted your little dot on his phone at a diner, just a few blocks away, and Jimin felt a bit of comfort wash over him. She was just hungry. He thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s meet her there, she’ll be surprised. 

But what Jimin had not expected, was to see him there. The puppy-eyed lawyer sat across from you, and Jimin could tell even from across the street than the man held on to every word you said. Jimin knew that look well, because it’s how he looks at you, too. Jimin grits his teeth, and sends a quick text message to his main lawyer, Kim Namjoon. 

9:11 a.m: Something needs to be done about the new rookie on your team, because spending time alone with my fiancé is wildly inappropriate. See to it that this doesn’t happen again, or I will be finding new representation.  

9:12 a.m: *image attached* 

Jimin takes one last look at the scene in front of him, and goes back to the hotel room. He orders three more bottles, and passes out once again. 

——————————————————————————————————

On Monday morning, Jung Kook was feeling light. He entered his law firm building as he does every day; a freshly pressed black suit on, his dark hair neatly styled, and a cup of coffee in his hand. But this morning, he felt a bit happier, attributing it to a simple breakfast shared with you the weekend prior. He wished he could have breakfast with you every morning, but buried that thought, not daring to spoil his mood with fantasies. 

He sat down at his office desk, and began looking through his weekly calendar and emails. This week was the final week or preparation before the Park Jimin case truly begins, and Jung Kook was fully ready to explain to his mentor why he had told him last minute he needed to recuse himself. It would be the right, responsible thing to do, and it would give him space from you. As much as he wished he didn’t need it, he felt that he needed to move on. You found your happiness. It’s time to let you go. 

Namjoon entered Jung Kook’s office, and closed the door behind him. Jung Kook looked up at his face, which usually held a gentle, welcoming smile. This morning, however, Namjoon was clenching his jaw like a father who was trying not to explode on his son. 

“Jung Kook.” Namjoon said, his voice scarily calm. “I want… No, I need you to be honest with me. What is going on with you and Mr. Park’s fiancé?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.” Jung Kook answered professionally, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake, kid, drop the act.” Namjoon deep voice was almost a growl. “I’m going to lose out on a top client because you can’t keep your nose where it belongs.” 

“What-” Jung Kook was stopped by Namjoon throwing his phone down on his desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Jung Kook squinted at it, to see a photo of himself and you at the diner. 

“How did you get this photo?” Jung Kook asked, his heart sinking. 

“Mr. Park saw you. He’s furious.” Namjoon explained, pacing back and forth. “He called it ‘wildly inappropriate’, and threatened to find new representation if it happens again.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry.” Jung Kook panicked. “Please understand, it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing happened, we was just-”

The office door knob turned, and a hush fell over the room. Jimin and yourself stood there at the door, hand in hand. Namjoon and Jimin locked eyes, and Namjoon could see that the client looked worse than he did just a few days prior. Dark, prominent circles were under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messier than before. Jung Kook noticed none of that, however, and stared directly at you. 

You were wearing dark sunglasses, with no thought to take them off despite being indoors. Your hair was seemingly brushed quickly, notably and uncharacteristically  not put together well. Your loose fitting clothes seemed carelessly thrown on, not styled perfectly in your usual fashion. You were quiet, head down, tightly holding Jimin’s hand and appeared to make yourself smaller, like you wanted to vanish into thin air. Jung Kook wanted so desperately to bring you in and hold you, shield you from whatever it was that made you look so tired, in such a short amount of time. 

“Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jimin responded, his throat sounding hoarse. “I came to fill out any paperwork, and tie up loose ends before we meet again next week.” 

“Of course, I was just talking with Mr. Jeon. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin called out, his voice weak. “Mr. Kim informed me you were recusing yourself from my legal team for this case. I just wanted to thank you, for the work you’ve done.” 

“Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Park.” Jung Kook said, confused with the kind words. This wasn’t the furious tone that Namjoon had described. 

“My love,” Jimin turned to you, his voice extra soft and delicate. “Will you go with Mr. Kim to his office, please? I’ll be there soon, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Jeon privately about the case before he leaves us. I had some questions.” 

“Ok.” You said, your voice almost a whisper. Jimin squeezes your hand and kisses the top of your head before turning to Namjoon, who nods in understanding. 

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon says gently, leading you out of the office. 

When you are out of sight, Jimin turns to you. The fury Namjoon spoke about is now prominent in his eyes, leading Jung Kook to realize that your presence is the thin defense that keeps his anger at bay. 

“Jeon Jung Kook.” Jimin spat. “I don’t know where you get off, eyeing up my fiancé in some cheap diner, but if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll ruin you. Do you understand me?” 

“Mr. Park, I never meant to offend you.” Jung Kook said. “Nothing happened. We just bumped into each other.” 

“I don’t want excuses, or explanations from you.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Jeon, I see the way you look at her. I’m warning you, to watch yourself. You’re from Busan, correct?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park.” 

“Then you know who I am, and who my father is.” Jimin’s voice was dripping in anger. “I will personally see to it that you never represent anyone in our city, or this city again, if you come near her. That’s a promise.” 

Jung Kook felt suffocated under the weight of the air and the weight of Jimin’s glare. Even in his disheveled state, his blonde locks dropping to his face couldn’t cover the anger in his eyes. Jimin stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him, causing other office workers to startle and look into his room. Jung Kook buried his head in his hands, unsure as to what the right path to move forward is. 

[revehae]

OMG i completely forgot about incel!jisung repost it pleasepleasepleaseplspls 🙏🏻🙏🏻

tw // thoughts of noncon, incel ideology

jisung thought about your sounds when he was jerking off, fisting his own cock roughly into his clenched fist, only tightening when he imagined you with somebody else. sometimes, he didn’t even need to pry them out of his vivid vault of memories, able to hear his roommate strumming you to ecstasy through the thin wall that acted as one of many boundaries separating you from him.

upon many other distinct noises, but he’d rather ignore those. they made his jaw clench and his rage heighten, which to be fair, so did the sound of you taking pleasure in getting dicked down by another man, but at least you sounded sweet enough for him to ignore that part. temporarily.

he thought about those high-pitched, squeaky noises that his roommate never failed to pluck out of you when he was doing mundane things like shopping and folding laundry, boring things like sitting in class when he should’ve been jotting down notes for his professor’s lecture.

but more importantly, more ceaselessly than the way you tantalize him every waking minute, jisung thought of turning your shrill, delicate moans into mangled, blood-curdling screams. especially when there was a crude, twisted porno draped over his computer screen. she deserves it, he thought crassly, for being so arrogant.

it was naturally so much less complicated for you, getting sex whenever you wanted. sometimes haechan boasted about it, how your relationship was so convenient because both of you dropped everything whenever the other called, and jisung resented his roommate too. haechan didn’t know what it was like to be lonely and he always had to rub it in jisung’s face.

but at the end of the day, that was why jisung didn’t feel bad picturing himself holding you down while you thrashed along his mattress. cock bulky and tall against his stomach, he mused about bullying himself inside velvety, taut walls, gripping him so fiercely there was no way he would be able to pull out.

it wouldn’t be his fault anyways. whenever jisung saw you, you were never not dressed like the whore he saw you for. so painfully easy. a simple tug and your breasts would be face-to-face with him. one wrong move and your miniskirt would ride upwards. if you didn’t want it, you would at least make it harder. what would it take for jisung to slip your panties to the side and force his cock between your folds?

he thought explicitly about how it would happen, how every moment would unfold the second he got his big hands on you. he wondered if he would want to go quickly, sheathing himself impatiently because he’d already waited long enough and give you no time to adjust, or if he’d take it slow, prolong his ecstasy and your agony.

too many different variants of heat wafted over jisung, an insatiable, white-hot anger, accompanied by the longing that burned through him and quickened his pulse, and he started to stroke his cock again, another video playing in front of him.

he pictured you choking on your own sobs identically to the girl in the video, so laboriously that you struggled to breathe. if he went deep enough, rough enough, would you bleed?

paramountly, he wanted to know what he’d have to do to tear the most devastating screams from the very back of your throat. he would rip your clothes off first. force you onto your stomach and hold you down by your throat, maybe your hair. he would watch you squirm uncomfortably, but to no avail, because he was stronger than you.

he had that feeling that you were a little fighter, just because of your attitude, a feeling that you would reach back and attempt to attack him when you sensed him lining himself up at your entrance, but he knew an untamed scream would come from your throat when he stuffed his cock inside your unprepared pussy.

he wouldn’t want to muffle it, he’d prefer to let you scream and cry out for help, but he would if he had to. slam your head against the bed and whisper menacing little threats into your ear. in that case, he started to think about somewhere secluded that he could take you, just so that nobody would be privy to your encounter, for lack of a better word.

maybe one day, he would turn these thoughts vicious, degenerate into a reality, but until then, while you were at your own apartment probably choking on his absent roommate’s dick, his hips rutted desperately into his fists as he imagined your weak, gasping figure, begging him for mercy.

[heartfullofleeches]

JEALOUS FUCKGIRL YAN.. yknow if ya don't mind. Coughcoughilovegirlswhoaremean

She's impossible to read.

One minute she's all over you, next she's disappearing off into the crowd. You can always pick her out sooner than later, watching you like a hawk cozied up with someone side night cared to remember by morning. You've told yourself time and again this is just how she is with everyone. Sometimes the flirty, extroverted type just don't get they can't be that way with everyone before someone catches feelings, but it's that same attention that makes you feel like there's so much more going on between you. Maybe you're just overthinking it. As her closest resemblance to a friend, you know better than anyone she'd be a tough partner to have..

Friends...

"hey..."

Yea, that's what you are.

"Hey!"

Over the music and chattering crowd, it's understandable to mistake the voice as directed at someone else. It's when you look at the glossy eyes of your slightly inebriated floor mate that you realize they were talking to you. Taking your gaze, they crack a toothy smile as they move closer so you're able to hear over the music - eyes watching their every step.

"What's going on with you and Dylan? Saw you two walk in and hanging around town before. She's never been so public with one of her partners."

The punch at the bottom of your cup tastes more bitter than you remembered as you sip from it. "It's nothing like that. Had a rough week so she offered to take me somewhere tonight. We're just friends."

The stranger frowns, but their pity never reaches their eyes. "Shame. Seems like she lucked out this time cause you're kinda cute. What's your name?"

"It's-

"None of your damn business."

The scent of department store cologne and tobacco assaults your senses as her hands fall at your waist. You can feel the weight of her glare over your shoulder as the stranger sheepishly backs away from promity to you and her line of sight. Gripping your waist, she pulls you to her chest - shooting an arm around your neck to keep you pinned in place as she swallows her visible anger with whatever's left in your cup.

"Baby.." She draws with that honeyedly sweet tone only she could channel, resting her head against your cheek with a sigh as she holds you close. "I leave you alone for a second and you run off with a stranger. Never pegged you as the type to break a poor girl's heart, but here we are."

The stranger looks between the two of you as her breath fans your ear through her laughter, confusion and a hint of disappointment clear on their face. "Sorry, Dyl.. Not trying to steal your date or nothing. They said you guys were just friends..."

"We are!" You argue, unsure of your own defense as her lips meet the skin of your neck. "we..are.."

Moving to your collar, her teeth close as her arms tight around you - biting down with no real force behind it, but enough to leave a sting. "All I know is if you're not out of my fucking sight in the next ten seconds we're gonna have a big problem on our hands and depending on how settling it goes there might be a few teeth on the floor."

The stranger opens their mouth-

"10...."

Turning tail as she opens hers. Watching as they flee, you finally wriggle out of Dylan's arms enough to shove her away. "What the hell was that, Dylan."

She shrugs, having the nerve to look upset as you raise your voice. "What? They were getting in your space so I helped you out. You're welcome by the way."

"They were just talking to me- Why bring me to a public place and go talk to somebody else if you didn't want me mingling with others. Why do you always insist we're just friends to people then turn around and act like my girlfriend when people trying to get to know me. Do you want me to end up miserable and alone?"

Something snaps in Dylan's eyes at your accusations. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt she yanks you back towards her - ramming her lips and tongue against your sealed mouth as she clutches your jaw, applying pressure to pry you open for her. The taste of liquor and the tobacco you smelt on her prior spills onto your tongue; the jewelry of her inner piercing clashing against your teeth as she robs you of breath and grasp on whatever grounding your relationship had before this. Her hand dips into your back pocket as her husky eyes into yours - voice dropping to a whisper so the watching crowd hasn't a clue what she says. All that matters is that you do and understand your place.

"What we are doesn't matter right now. Only thing that does is that you are mine. Don't let anyone put any silly ideas in that pretty head that make you think that you're not. Do I make myself clear?"

You swallow the air you had been holding.

"Do. I. make myself clear."

"..yea."

"Good." Her face relaxes into the smile you've grown accustom to as she pats your cheek. "Good. Say I'd hate to have to remind you, but I've been told I'm a bad liar."

[bruisedboys]

mal wants to talk about sirius!!!!!!!

sirius black!!!!! who loves to tease shy!you. loves to see you get flustered and watch you stammer because he’s the biggest flirt known to man. but!!!! if anyone else is making you uncomfortable or thinks ur strange for being so shy. he’s defending you to the ends of the earth because he loves you for how shy you are. you’re perfect to him tbh.

omg I love this sm aerial im not kidding. I got too excited and wrote this wholeass 1k word thing in one day .. oopsies

fem!reader 1k words

“Angel!”

You know it’s Sirius before he even steps into your line of vision. He’s got a voice that’s recognisable anywhere. Silky, rough around the edges, so undeniably attractive that you melt just hearing it.

You look up from your drink to find your boyfriend swaggering over to you, looking pretty as ever in his silk black button up and ripped jeans that make him look like a rockstar. He’s been gone for all but ten minutes and you almost die at the sight of him.

“Hi,” you say quietly. Your lips mindlessly pull up at the sight of him, a sweet smile reserved only for him.

“Hi, darling.” Sirius throws his arm over your shoulder, smelling of all things him. Expensive cologne, cigarettes and ash, fruity shampoo. His jewellery jingles and sways as his side presses into yours, his hip pushing into the dip of your waist. “How’re you doing?”

Upon his arrival, you’re doing terribly. Hot in the face, tingly skin, a heat in your chest that only ever goes away when Sirius does. Which is almost never.

“I’m okay,” you lie quietly, knowing full well he’ll call your bluff.

Sirius turns his head to look at you and his face is so close to the side of yours that he’s almost kissing you. He seems to notice this, too. He ducks his head to press his mouth to your skin, right in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. His lips are warm and soft as melted butter.

“Yeah?” He asks, a murmured sound pressed into your skin. Goosebumps erupt and spread and suddenly you’re ten times hotter. Sirius tends to have that effect on you.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe, barely remembering what you were talking about in the first place.

Sirius laughs but it’s far from condescending. It’s boyish, nearing on shy, but shy and Sirius never go together in the same sentence.

“You’re burning up, my love,” he says, almost pitying. You want to hit him for it but he’s too pretty and too lovely. He straightens up and shifts so he’s facing you, his arm dropping to your waist.

You grow impossibly shyer. He’s too close. You’re face to face with his chest, and of course the top two buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing silver chains sitting atop his toned chest. You stare and stare and pretend it’s because you’re avoiding his eyes.

“It’s your fault,” you say, trying for irritated but it’s hard when you can barely get your tongue around the words.

Sirius really laughs at that, loud and startled as he throws his head back, curls bouncing and tumbling, his Adam’s apple bared to you. Suddenly you’re extremely dizzy. You grab Sirius’s bicep for support.

When he’s finished laughing he drops his head to meet your eyes, his free hand moving to cup your cheek. With his other arm still curled around your waist, he pulls you closer, chest to chest. Your drink gets crushed between your bodies but you hardly care.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he says, and he actually sounds sincere. Well, more sincere than usual. His eyes bore into yours unabashedly. “Really, I am.”

You find yourself shrugging, brushing off his apology because really, you don’t care all that much. Actually, you kind of love being teased by him. Not that you’d ever admit it.

“It’s okay,” you say, and you meant it. You slide your hand down his bicep and to his forearm. You give him a squeeze there for good measure.

Sirius grins lopsidedly, looking at you like you’re made of gold. “You’re cute,” he says, all smiles as he pats your cheek twice. “Do you want to—?”

“Oi! Sirius!”

Somebody, James you suspect, is yelling at Sirius from the table, where he’d been playing cards up until now. Sirius groans, long-suffering, and twists in your hold. You peek around his shoulder to see what the problem is.

“What?” Sirius yells back, though yelling is totally unnecessary when the table is only just across the room.

“Stop feeling up your girlfriend and get back over here,” James says with a smug grin. “You’re turning her into a human furnace.”

You know he means it jokingly but it still makes you want to curl in on yourself. You love James, you do, but you’re yet to get used to his teasing.

“Fuck off, Prongs,” Sirius says, sounding awfully bored. But when he turns back to you he’s got this look in his eyes, kind and sweet, and his mouth is turned down in what you think is a frown.

“Sorry,” he says quietly, kindly, a stark contrast to how he spoke to his best friend two seconds ago. “He’s …” Sirius sighs. “Well, he’s drunk. I think.”

You know what he means. James is so perky and boisterous you wouldn’t be surprised if he was completely sober right now, despite his obnoxious comments and his roaring laugh from behind Sirius.

“It’s fine,” you say, because it is, and Sirius shouldn’t have to apologise for his friend not understanding you like he does. “It’s James.”

Sirius looks relieved at your lack of upset. “I know,” he moans, throwing his head back yet again. “I hate him so much.”

You giggle and try not to stare too hard at his pretty neck. You think he catches you staring but thankfully doesn’t comment on it. Instead he releases his arm from around your waist, hand moving to push a lock of hair from your face. His fingers curl around the back of your neck and stay there.

“Do you want to get outta here?” He asks. “Get some food or something?”

“Sirius,” you chide, though you find yourself hopeful at his offer. “We can’t just leave. Aren’t you having fun?”

Sirius pulls a face. “No.” No sooner has he finished speaking do his lips curl into a sly smirk, and you just know he’s about to make some suggestive comment that’ll have you weak in the knees. “Besides, I can think of other ways we can have fun at home. Just us two.”

You flush something awful. Hot cheeks, goosebumps all over, the whole package. It gets worse when he dips his head so his mouth is a hair’s width from your ear, his hand gripping your shoulder. His scent is intoxicating.

“It doesn’t involve clothes,” he whispers.

You just about pass out.

[rishiguro]

HONOURABLE MAN - N. KENTO

warnings: set during jjk0. major character death. weapons. heavily implied past lovers. no happy ending (but are we even surprised). swearing. reader is on getou's side and believes in his cause. 4k words.

a/n: happy halloween! and thank you for sticking with me all though angstober, i hope you enjoy this last fic <3

angstober event

you clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the weapon in your hands as you stared at the blonde man in front of you. “get out of my way,” the words came out pressed through your teeth.

nanami however didn’t move, instead lifting his chin as he stared right back at you, shaking his head slightly, just enough for you to notice. “no”

you pressed your lips together to a thin line, quickly looking over his shoulder before looking over yours, realizing that there was no one around you. “please,” you whispered, more to yourself than actually addressing him.

please get out of my way. i don’t want to hurt you.

“i can’t,“ he replied.

you however couldn’t concentrate on him, instead focusing on your surroundings, quickly scanning the surrounding alleyways, streets and even rooftops for sorcerers and curses, friends and foes alike.

was there somebody, anybody near you? somebody that could hear you, observe you, rat you out?

rat you out for talking to your enemy, for even just as much as hesitating to confront him, fight him and ultimately kill him.

rat you out for acting like a traitor. 

lucky for you, you couldn’t detect anybody, barely managing to suppress a relieved sigh. yet when your eyes found nanami again, you analyzed his posture, taking in how his jaw was still clenched, his fingers right around his cleaver, staring you down with determined eyes behind his glasses.

yet he looked different from how he usually looked when facing curses, his breathing was deeper and you noticed how he swallowed repeatedly, like he had a lump in his throat. 

for a moment you bit your lip, glancing at your weapon before restoring eye contact with the man in the suit. “i don’t want to do this,” you stated calmly, gripping your fingers tighter shortly, “please, just go”

he shut his eyes defeated. “i’m afraid you have to,” nanami retorted, raising his cleaver, shifting his stance. “i can’t let you go”

you let me go just fine the last time. you didn’t even attempt to follow me, make me stay.

‘you have to’, you wanted to whisper, ‘it wasn’t hard to let me go before, so why should it be any different now?’

but it seemed like you didn’t even have to say anything, as nanami immediately replied to you thoughts. “you’re dangerous, a threat,” he claimed, his free hand reaching up to loosen his tie a little, pulling at the knot.

you wanted to laugh at his claim.

a threat? you? why would you be? you hadn’t changed, your abilities hadn’t changed. and you weren’t ‘dangerous’ before. not to him. or to anybody else.

“now i am?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, thinking back to your time at jujutsu high.

“your friends didn’t even look at me back at jujutsu high” “saying that i was weak. useless” 

“you always had potential,” he stated, reminiscing the time when the two of you would brawl together at school, familiarizing yourselves with each other’s techniques and fighting patterns.

and while nanami might have never thought of you as weak, that didn’t stop him from dismissing your seniors and sometimes even your juniors poking fun at you, claiming that your place at jujutsu high was wasted, that there were more people around that deserved your place, effectively poisoning your mind with insecurities and doubts, until you grew to hate being around them.

“and they didn’t even have the guts to tell me directly what they thought,” you remembered, a part of you still hurting as you recounted the subtle jabs thrown your way. you scoffed, smiling. “can you imagine their faces now?” 

“you always had it in you,” nanami repeated in a matter-of-factly tone. 

“shut up,” you spat, shaking your head, trying to get his words out of your head.

potential. 

“i wish you could’ve seen that sooner”

“i said shut the fuck up!” you demanded loudly, groaning in frustration. as if he had any idea how it has been for you. as if he knew how you had to live with the constant feeling of not being enough, of being a waste of space at jujutsu high, of always living in fear of failing and proving everybody right. “stop with this pseudo-motivational coach shit. you have no idea what you’re talking about”

“i do,” he stated. how could he still be so calm and collected? did he even understand you? did he even try to understand how this had gnawed at you during your entire time you were at jujutsu high, even after you graduated and went on missions, dutifully carrying out the orders you were given, no matter what? does he even understand how it had only stopped when you decided to leave?

when you decided to look out for yourself?

nanami took a step towards you, to which you immediately took one back. “i tried to tell you” 

you clenched your jaw.

you knew he was right. he did try to make you feel at least reassured and confident in your abilities, instead of weak and helpless.

instead of what you were convinced you should feel like. instead of what you felt like every time you failed to save somebody, every time you lost a friend.

he however was unable to rescue you from this darkness, instead letting you be dragged deeper and deeper down into it, his hand never quite reaching yours to pull you out. 

and you stayed there, surrounded by darkness until you found somebody else in the same pit. a familiar face that took your hand and found a way out, saving you.

and in this moment you decided to forever be grateful for it.

“you could have stayed, you know?” nanami proposed, again taking a step towards you. this time hoever, you didn’t move, only looking at him, carefully analyzing every move, fingers itching around the hilt of your weapon. he gave you a small, almost hopeful smile. “you could come back”

hopeful, like everything would be okay again. like everything that had happened would be forgotten.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

why would you come back? “don’t be ridiculous” 

he took another step towards you. “i’m not”

you shook your head, turning your face away from him. “i don’t want to,” you pressed though clenched teeth. how could he even suggest this? “i despise your jujutsu society, the elders, the school,” you listed before looking back at him, clenching your jaw, before continuing. “i despise you”

the blonde man smiled sadly, shaking his head softly. “you don’t”

“you stand for everything i hate,” you reasoned, trying to sound as objective and emotionless as possible, “you’re a slave, kento” you took a step closer to him, the tip of your blade slightly touching his chest. nanami immediately pushed it to the side to which you drew it back to yourself. “a slave, protecting people that won’t even take a glance at you” you looked around, noticing that every building around you was practically empty, the streets abandoned. “people that are too ignorant to even care that you risk your life for them. they’re weak. pathetic,” you spat out, not being able to stop your face from contorting in disgust. you pointed at him. “and you know that”

“they’re worth being protected,” nanami claimed simply, “they need to be. it’s our job, our calling. protect the ones that can’t protect themselves. you used to believe in that too” he smiled sadly at you.

he was right. you used to believe it. but things had changed.

you changed.

you breathed out, almost wanting to start laughing hysterically. “why should i? why should we risk our lives every day and not even get a fucking thank you?” you ranted loudly, vividly gesturing around you. 

this wasn’t fair. 

“why should we give our lives for them when they never learn, never change? why do we have to see our friends, our comrades die every day and still protect the ones that kill them?” you continued, feeling your heart ache as you thought all the friends you had to bury.

even your best friend.

your opponent grew agitated and visibly shaky, clenching his jaw. “because it’s the right thing to do,” he spat out loudly. 

“how honourable of you, kento” you scoffed, shaking your head as you brought your free arm out, like you inviting people to join in and look at him, listen to him, just to mock him. “look at you, the righteous man, protecting the helpless” 

“it’s what i do. that’s what we do,” he pressed out, a lonely vein protruding on his neck. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this, questioning his world view, poking fun at him and his beliefs.

even if he would never be by your side again.

“we die, that’s what we do! every day more and more of us die because of some scum that’s way too arrogant to control themselves and their emotions,” you yelled out in frustration, feeling your own throat get dry in the process. “how can you still fight for them when they take away everyone we care about?”

tears welled up in your eyes and at the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, your hand instead grabbing your top, fisting the fabric in front of your chest. “how can you stand in front of me, telling me what’s right when they killed yu?” your voice broke, tears falling down your cheeks in little rivers. “they killed him and you act like it’s normal!”

“don’t you dare bring him up” nanami sounded appalled, angry even, like he was convinced that you had no right to even mention his former best friend’s name.

did he really forget that he used to be your best friend too? 

“open your eyes, kento!” you demanded loudly.

his words were stuck in his throat as he remembered the day his friend left him – dying right in front of him. “yu died because i couldn’t protect him!”

how could he still be so blind? how could he shoulder all the blame of him dying when the only reason he did were human-made curses? 

and how could he just spit on his memory, still fighting for non-sorcerers?

“yu died because of them! he was so bright. always so fucking cheerful and i never understood that. and now he’s gone” you forced yourself to take a breath, trying to calm your racing heart and tremblings hands. “we will never see him again because of them! how dare you protect the ones that took him away from us?”

“we knew what we were getting ourselves into, so why are you acting so surprised? sorcerers die daily. but so do regular people. and countless more would die if we weren’t here to protect them”

was he serious?

how dare he? how could he?

“it’s about doing what’s right, not about what we want,” nanami finished, his teary voice from just a moment ago nowhere to be found, instead sounding disconnected and apathetic.

like he never even cared in the first place.

you scoffed before letting out a shocked laugh, throwing your hands up, slightly pulling at your hair with your free hand. “how can letting your friends die be right? do you even hear yourself?”

he raised his voice again, shaking his head in disappointment. “how can you stand against your friends? against the people you claimed you loved?” nanami’s voice broke as he said that, pressing the words out between his teeth.

love.you loved him. so how could you turn your back on him?

he swallowed thickly, his voice still cracking as he spoke. “how is that any better? how are you not betraying yourself? or everybody else? how can you only think about yourself?”

“who else will think about me?” you yelled, your hand pointing at your own chest.

“i did!” nanami screamed back, his voice cracking slightly. in heat he raised his cleaver again, pointing it at you as he yelled. shortly after he sighed, shaking his own head before speaking again, this time noticeably quieter, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “i always did”

you vaguely pointed at him and the weapons in his hand, shrugging. “and yet you stand here now” your voice got quieter, softer. “don’t act so high and mighty”

“you left! i haven’t turned my back on the jujutsu society ever since i realized what it meant to be a sorcerer. you did” he pointed at you, fingers trembling as he spoke, practically spitting the words at you. “you’re selfish”

“and you’re an idiot,” you shot back harshly, spitting right back at him. “they will never care about you. you’re nothing more than an asset to them. it doesn’t matter how much of a loyal dog you are to them, they don’t care about you licking their boots, they will kick you, kill you, just like they always do” you stopped for a moment, sighing to yourself.

why was he so blind? why didn’t he even care enough to see?

“you’re nothing special. to them, you’re nothing” you clenched your jaw, hesitating for a second before continuing, voice cold and almost sounding apathetic. “you will die as nothing”

nanami paused for a few moments, eyes darting down to the cleaver, following it’s direction back to your chest. “when i die, i will die for what i believe in,” he spoke calmly and confidently, his eyes wandering up to face yours again. “i will die peacefully, knowing that i did what i could to protect others” he scanned your form, nodding at you. “not for my own selfish reasons”

you raised your eyebrows. “are you calling me selfish?” nanami simply shrugged. “you’re only looking after yourself, not caring about others. that’s the definition of being selfish,” he pointed out.

so now you were selfish?

because what– because you didn’t want to die for people that would never appreciate you? because you weren’t willing to be just another body in an unmarked grave? 

you scoffed. “i look out for myself because no one else would!”

“i always looked out for you”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze pointing to his cleaver still pointed at you. “i didn’t know that threatening me with your weapon counts as looking out for me” his fingers gripped it tighter, his knuckles turning white. a small smile appeared on your face as you noticed it, feeling affirmed in your suspicion. “you gave me no other choice”

“you always have a choice! and you chose to stand here and you chose to fight me” you swallowed, hoping to get rid of the lump in your throat and blinked a couple of times, hoping to calm yourself down.

why were you getting so emotional?

“you chose to betray me”

nanami scoffed, a small but mocking smile appeared on his lips. he leaned back, staring up at the sly before turning his attention back to you. “i never betrayed anyone. you left. you turned your back on us”

so you betrayed him?

you betrayed him when everything you were doing was for a better world for all of you, even for him?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for a world where he didn’t have to die? for a world where his death wouldn’t be meaningless? 

you betrayed him when you were fighting for all of you to be more than just mindless soldiers?

“because i see how unfair this is. because i see how we all die for nothing! yu died for nothing!”

“he died for us!” nanami yelled out, his voice sounding strained.

“he died for a world that would never change! that’s why we have to force it to change!” you shouted back immediately, pointing your blade at him.

nanami sighed before flexing and relaxing the fingers on his free hand. “mass murder isn’t change” a sad smile appeared on your face. “it’s better than not doing anything,” you claimed. 

better than just stand on the sidelines as everybody you cared about died for a lost cause.

“now get out of my way,” you demanded, head pointing in a random direction.

go away. live your life. do what yu wanted you to do. do what we always wanted to do. 

much to your dismay, he shook his head, speaking with a firm voice. “no” 

“kento, leave,” you begged him one last time, raising your weapon and preparing yourself to charge at him, willing to attack him since it seemed like you truly had no other choice. “you can’t stop us”

“maybe not all of you” he took a deep breath, assuming a fighting stance as he sharpened his eyes, carefully examining every move you made. “but i can stop you”

what followed was a brutal match between the two of you, ruthlessly attacking each other with your weapons and cursed energy alike, desperate to knock the other one down.

you barely had any time to breath as you returned the blonde man’s slashes, pushing him back a few meters only to be forced back by him immediately after. during the entire fight the two of you were silent, too occupied to defend yourselves against the other to even try to taunt your opponent.

from an outside perspective it almost looked like you were dancing with each other, deeply familiar with the other’s movements and strategies. no matter which one of you decided to attack, most of the time the efforts were fruitless, either being blocked by a weapon like it was only waiting to clash with the other one or simply slashing through the air, like you hadn’t been there in the first place. 

you were too familiar with each other, so you knew that your fight was nothing more than a stamina match – whoever slowed down first would lose. whoever would lose focus for the smallest fraction of a second would lose. 

a few years back this match could’ve ended either way. nanami and you typically teamed up, your strengths and weaknesses balancing each other out and your skill level being about the same.

but things have changed.

when you left, you lost your strongest training partner, you lost the person that pointed out your mistakes when you lost a brawl, you lost the one person that always strived you to be better. you would think that the same thing applied to him too.

yet it didn’t. you could tell that he became stronger, more agile, more durable when you noticed how he didn’t even flinch at the injuries he retained, instead retaliating with twice the force behind his strikes, almost taunting you with how he seemed to disappear from your field of vision, only to appear behind you to injure you even further, until it was clear that he would emerge victorious as he managed to bring you down with one final strike, your weak body falling onto the hard concrete, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“go ahead,” you breathed out, staring up at nanami as he towered over you. he looked down, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly while he tried to catch his breath.  “finish it,” you demanded weakly.

“do you have any last words?” he asked stoically, clenching his cleaver. 

you couldn’t help but laugh out, only to cough immediately after, face constricting in pain.

last words? you didn’t need such thing. 

not from him.

“i die for my cause,” you claimed weakly, forcing your eyes to keep focused on the blonde man,  “i don’t need any pity from a traitor”

he shook his head slightly. “i don’t pity you. you chose this path,” he stated coldly, pausing for a moment. nanami seemed to think about something, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, just like he always did whenever something was bothering him. he sighed, mumbling something to himself before he crouched down beside you. a faint, pained smile appeared on his face. “i’m not asking as a sorcerer, i’m asking as a friend. as someone who loved you”

“love? would you really kill someone you loved?” you huffed, feeling your own heart crack at his words.

love.

nanami swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to get rid of tears welling up in his eyes. his voice cracked. “if i had to” 

it was over.

you lost. you failed. 

you clenched your eyes shut in pain, groaning weakly. you couldn’t escape from this anymore. you couldn’t escape from the pain in your entire body, you couldn’t escape from your imminent death and probably the worst of all, you couldn’t escape from him.

but a part of you didn’t want to, instead finding comfort in the fact that he’s right here at your side as you were drawing your last few breaths. 

who else would be more comforting than the person that you loved? 

yet your heart broke when you realized how this wouldn’t change anything for him. he would move on, live his life, be sent on one deadly mission after the next before he would die during one of them. 

you didn’t want him to die.

you had dreamed of a long life with nanami by your side, where the two of you would leave the jujutsu world just like he had done before, grow old together and simply be happy together.

but you couldn’t anymore. 

and while you knew that it was too late, that nothing you would say could ever convince him, you still had to try.

because wherever you’d be going after this, if there even was anything, you didn’t want him to join you soon.

“you will never be free,” you breathed out, “you will always be bound by jujutsu society”

you knew your efforts would be fruitless.

he defeated you. he won. he wouldn’t listen to you, he had no reason to.

and yet you couldn’t deny how your heart ached when you thought about him returning, living the same life he did before, the same life you chose to leave behind, the life he left behind before.

your heart ached because you knew his path could only end in death. and nobody would bat an eye, he would be one fallen sorcerer among all the others, his name soon to be forgotten by everybody else.

and you didn’t want that for him.

“nothing more than a soldier carrying out orders. never your own person” 

nanami sighed, like you had this conversation a million times before, like you weren’t currently laying on the floor, clinging on to the rest of your life force and almost pathetically trying to make him see your side, trying to get him to change his mind. 

like it would change anything now.

and while you knew it wouldn’t change anything for you anymore, while it was too late to change your fate, you knew he could still change his.

you hoped he would change his.

he could still live a long and happy life, free of curses and sorcerers alike. he could just be a normal person, like so many others, living his life and not worry about anything else.

“i chose this life”

you shook your head. “other people chose for you,” you whispered, turning your head, trying to stop him from seeing the few stray tears in your eyes. “and apparently it makes us villains for choosing for ourselves”

you felt a warm hand engulf yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

nanami knew just as well as you did that you didn’t have for much longer, that soon you’d leave.

he won and you lost. 

you failed.

and yet you didn’t want to leave him. you wanted to stay with him, live with him.

but you failed. 

“you know, we could’ve run away together. leave everything behind,” you smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand with the last strength you had left in your body. “no sorcerers, no school, no elders” 

he nodded, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering on your skin. “we could have. but it’s too late” 

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[atinylittlepain]

Chapter Eight

no-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!oc

series masterlist

series playlist

warnings: 18+ heavy angst, references to past injury related to DV, very brief and very vague smut

a/n: we've reached the end of this story. i love these two, very much. thank you for reading.

...........................................

Maybe there's a God above But, all I've ever learned from love Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you? And it's not a cry, that you hear at night It's not somebody, who's seen the light It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah as performed by Jeff Buckley

...........................................

The car is real. It is parked outside the house now. Sneering a chrome smile at him, taunting him. The sound of its engine in the mornings when she goes to the diner whispers the same thing everytime. Soon. 

One day after the perfect mess he made, he dropped her off at the diner and she informed him with all the warmth of a business associate that he need not come back to pick her up, because Sal would be giving her the keys to the car that is now parked outside the house, the car that is now hers. The car that is going to take her far away from him, any day now. 

They move around each other like ghosts. How fast fission breeds new rhythms and routines, never in the kitchen at the same time, nor the fields, fleeting passings in the evenings. He has taken on more night shifts to keep himself out of the house, to keep himself from doing something stupid, like knocking on her bedroom door and getting down on his knees. Only a few days, though it feels like a yawning beast of time has already blinked by.

She will tell him, won’t she? At least that. Actually, he’s not sure if she will. If he will come home one morning and the sheep will be calling a grievous sound into the thin air because their favorite has left, stuck with him once again. Warning, notice, if not for him, then at least for her flock. 

How quickly things soured, all their jagged pieces tearing and teething at each other. His mean, her mean, and the desolate monster it has made between them. He will let her leave, he must. Care has turned into a cage, and he must leave the door open, must let her step through to something else, something better. Because clearly, whatever this is, plainly no good. 

The mind is a cruel machine. The worst part of all of this, he has been dreaming of her. Scraps of visions, what he can remember. The perfect line of her clavicle, and how breath made the pools of shadows swell and bend against her skin. The way his hand curled around her thigh, the hinge of it. He wakes up wanting, warm and wretched, alone in the night. But the patrol shifts help with that, something about sleeping with the sun trying to pry through the blinds staving off the darkest of his thoughts. 

Sarah called the other day, asked how Dove was doing. Oh, you know, he said. Because he could not lie to his daughter, but he could not offer the truth either. The truth, neither of them are doing very well. Partial, parallel unraveling. The kitchen remains dormant. There are no trips to the grocery, to the library. Only what is needed for another day to pull over into another night and over again. He looks miserable because he is miserable. Glances he has stolen of her, peering out his bedroom window to watch her get into her car in the mornings, he sees that she has turned sharp again, drawn down and in around the edges. This pain, this sickness, is shared. 

He runs through all the ways it could never work while he sits in the slumbering cruiser on the side of the highway. That lull between spring and summer has arrived, all living things bracing and bending beneath inevitable change, quiet in their submission. Life raises its hackles and curls down low to the ground, silent sulk, waiting for new prey, new time. And in the silence, his thoughts grow and gristle.

No, it could not work. He thought that he could, but clearly he couldn’t. Couldn’t be careful enough around all the big and small hurts that trail after her. Because that’s what that was, that night of no, a hurting thing. A wounded, rejected thing. Easier to call it anger. And so was his, the next day, the car, the turn of her shoulder away from him so he could not see the first line of tears fall. 

And now it’s just a meanness, isn’t it? Anger that festers and flumes into something bitter and blistering. Easier to be mean about it. Sorry is so very difficult to swallow, after all. This silence, this sharp shuttering out, mean, the both of them digging their thumbs into the places it hurts the most and pretending to enjoy it with grimacing grins. Good for you, good for me, so there. Good for us.

Always, at some point in his shift, somewhere in the middle of the thick night, his thoughts turn small and young. We are born wanting, and we will always return to wanting. And he does, now, lets himself want all of it. Even the pain she caused him, he would take it happily, standing up and smiling. Something poetic could be said, something beautiful, but there is no need for the fuss or frill of it. Simply, he wants her. Urgently, he wants her to stay. 

Like all things, the wanting passes just as the night does. Eventually, his grip on the steering wheel unfurls and unfists. Eventually, the light begins to spread a pale blue out across all the ink of the plains. Morning starting to suggest itself, mercy. 

He blinks, bleary, a small protest from the engine when he inches the car back onto the road, time to return to the station, want still clearing from the fuzzy periphery of his mind. 

It does not scare or startle him, but it does give him pause. Coyotes, fur dunned and dull, matted tufts sticking up over their slinking bodies. They cross the road with no concern for the car, slow languorous placement of paws, the largest of them turning its jaded eyes into the headlights, perhaps a disillusioned sigh, before it continues on its path. Pups trail and trundle behind, nipping at mother’s tail, new energy, new life, and how dangerous, daunting, daring it can be. 

He does not go back to the station. He goes home. 

Still early, still sleeping, maybe. He does the thing he has been telling himself he shouldn’t. But shouldn’t is what got him here in the first place. Enough of needless shouldn’t. 

She is awake. Her hair still damp from a shower, darkening the blue shoulders of her uniform when she opens the door to her room. Her room, the guest room, whatever it is. Confusion is clear in her frown, the pull of her brow. She keeps the door halfway closed, a quiet understanding of distance needed.

“Are you leaving soon?” Shit, stupid, wrong words that got ahead of what he meant to say. And he just made this so much worse, her whole face pinching tight before slackening into something smaller, something sad. 

“I am. I’m sorry that I haven’t yet.” Sorry that she hasn’t left yet. Sorry that she didn’t get out sooner. And here he is, rubbing all that sorry in her face. 

“No.” All he can think, to quickly slip up his throat to, at the very least, keep her here with half of a closed door between them. Better than the alternative anyways.

“What?” 

“That’s not what I want, not at all.” It is selfish to make this about him, but it is all he can think to say, the only truth that seems to be offering itself up. Dove just looks tired, weary and worn, waiting for the catch. What she said, all those months ago. Always a catch, always waiting for it.

“Joel.” A sigh, but still smarting sweet because he hasn’t heard it from her in too long. 

“This isn’t working.” Going about this all wrong, he has finally realized. While he has been so afraid of no, of unwanted, he has failed to remember that she was taught a long time ago that wanting was not allowed, and that being wanted was an even worse impossibility. Both of them, lashing out against the same thing, though it’s each other that they leave bleeding.

“No, it’s not.”

“I’m going to try to speak plainly.” What he’s going to do is make her late for her shift if he doesn’t kick whatever courage there is whining in his chest up into his throat. But she shows no sign of rush, wide eyes and the smallest frown. 

“Okay.” Okay opens the door fully, though she doesn’t move in invitation, staying separated by the threshold. 

“I don’t want you to leave.” 

“Ever.” Added in the afterthought of silence, because he needs to make himself very clear. Soon, after all. 

“I’m not what you want, Joel.” Said with a scoff, a jerky wave of her hand like no, not even going to entertain it. But it’s enough for something soft to snap in him, hands reaching, but not touching, suspended want as he murmurs, or prays maybe, to her you are, you are, you are, Dove.  

“But I can’t keep you here. Not if you don’t want it.” Me, he meant to say me. But he thinks that she understands all the same, something slipping behind her eyes. 

“I shouldn’t.” Shouldn’t stay, shouldn’t want. A shameful confession that is said to the tips of her shoes more than it is to him. 

“I don’t fucking care.”

“You should.” 

“Just, please, tell me.” 

“I do, okay? Probably more than you do.” 

“That’s not true.”

“How can you just say that?”

“Because I know how much I do. And it’s everything.” And that’s it, he wants to say, that’s all that matters and nothing else and you do and I do. Case closed, finally fixed this thing, this lame, limping thing between them. If only it were that simple. 

“Do you really?” A leap, or more like a lurch, but pure relief when she lets him, two stuttering steps closer and one palm finding the space between her shoulder blades, the other the hilt of her spine, pulling her into him. His and hers, finding the other’s rhythm. Beat like this, body and blood like this. His mouth settles at the crown of her skull. Here, and nowhere else, not ever again, please. 

“Sometimes it makes me sick.” The truth, because there can be nothing else now. Yes, he is sick with it. Sick for her. 

“I want to be normal for you.” Muffled into the fabric of his shirt, and the unsaid after of it. I don’t think I can. Like sorry, like penance, her hands curling closer around his shoulders as she starts to shake. But what he can offer her, something still, something sure, his palms drawing her in even more, him breathing her breathing him.

“I’m not asking you for that, Dove.” No, asking for something much bigger, much more terrifying. Asking for all of it. 

…

Dove is only a little late to her shift. Joel drops her off, waits a few minutes to make sure there is no grief from Sal about it, not that he was expecting there to be. Replays to himself her explanation, what she told him on the way there.

“I didn’t get the car to leave, not really.”

“You didn’t?” 

“Before, I thought it would make things easier.” For him, he realizes, something she had thought of for him. Make things easier for him, not having to pick her up and drop her off and look bored at the library while she browsed. And no, he’s never going to forgive himself for this one. 

He doesn’t go back to the diner for lunch, but it’s not for spite or scorn. Agreed-upon space for both of them to think, offering an out for each other, one last opportunity to decide that this is actually a terrible idea. 

The sheep accept his presence and it feels like he finally got something right, even a laugh when Judy offers her head to him for a brisk rub beneath her chin. 

“She’s coming home, I think. I know you wouldn’t forgive me if she didn’t.” No response, she is a lamb, after all. But he’d like to think that her two hard blinks commend him, already plucking away through the grass toward her mother. 

When he does pick her up after her shift, her lips purse trying to pull back a smile as she walks around the front of the car. Hope lifts, winged and real in his chest. 

The day steals from the night this time of year. It won’t be dark out until much later. For now, the light is starting to bleed a little, orange syrup and haze filling and flooding the cab of the truck. Nothing is said, but staying is understood when she takes his hand in both of hers, and keeps it for herself, tucked in her lap the whole ride home. 

So much of their time together has been spent like this, driving toward and away from town, sometimes silent and sometimes not. A selfish part of him wishes she hadn’t gotten the car, wanting to keep her needing him in this way. But no, he reasons, there will be plenty of other time besides this. No need to be greedy about it. 

There is not much food in the kitchen, but there are always eggs. Two for him and two for her. They eat standing up, propped against the counter. And when he moves to wash the dishes in the sink, she catches his wrist. The dishes can wait until the morning.

The thing about Dove is she has always had a curious way of touching him. Literally curious, like she is surprised she is allowed to trace the pads of his fingertips with her own, spirals fitting together. Like she is testing the boundaries of him, finding all the soft places with her palms, spanning his sides and up along his chest, fingers flirting beneath the collar of his shirt, shivering down with it. But before this continues, he must make sure, must ward off that ghost for good. He takes her face in his hands, thumbs settling along the soft curve beneath her eyes, tracing some constant constellation, her cheeks rounding with it.

“I need to know that this is what you want.” 

“It is.” 

“I need you here. With me.”

“I am, Joel. I am.” This isn’t want, after all. Want isn’t big enough for whatever this is. Something deeper, something threaded in with all the sinew and stretch of bone, ligament, and beating tissue. This is need. Vital and visceral, and so very precarious. 

His need makes a foolish fumble out of the buttons of her dress, a laugh dancing beneath the brush of his knuckles, catching somewhere under her sternum when his eyes flicker up to hers. She rolls her lips back into her mouth, trying to tamp down any mirth or mocking, but a huff still slips out, smile threatening at the edges. How easy, how lovely, fitting the curve of his own against hers. That laugh turns into a sigh that he swallows. 

And it was never about letting or allowing, never about being big or strong enough to scare off all her specters. What has changed, he isn’t sure. But waiting, he has found, is often a solution in itself. Maybe just the mercy of enough time, enough space shared and understood. Brains finally catching up to bodies, deciding yes, now is good. 

Need makes animals stupid. A caught thing, captured and crumpled thing, will gnaw off its own limb in need of escape. A hungry, hungered thing will turn so desperate, so singular and silly in its need. It will take whatever sate it can get. Hands and skin and teeth and tongues. And in the kitchen no less, still hungry, still needing. Jawing up each other, and humming at the taste. Feast and fire and flood all in one. 

Her mouth settles sharp along the tendons in his neck, humming there as he curls over her to shrug her dress down and down into a pool around her feet. A little snarl, a little curl of her lip, preening when his palms squeeze her hips, coaxing her closer into his chest. She is far more schooled in the work she makes of his shirt, and then, missed this. Missed skin against skin and heart straining to press against heart. Missed the run of his fingers down her ribs, the quick catch at her waist. He only got it once before, a blink compared to this, but he has been missing it ever since, a sigh now that he has it again. Has her again. And Dove, still learning how she gets to have him.

“Can I?” A kiss to her brow, a smear of words whatever you want, Dove. Tentative at first, she presses her mouth to the hollow where his throat slips into clavicle, letting her nose run a line out to the edge of bone, to shoulder, enough sense to turn her a little bolder, fingers curling into the waist of his jeans, tugging. And it is not graceful, silly, stupid, needing bodies curling and caving into each other. His legs splay out long as he settles back against the cabinets below the sink, Dove furling into his lap, the perfect spread of her thighs at his hips. 

A lesson in the anatomy of need. Here is how. How a body can give and take everything it needs from another body. So simple, really. Open mouths and muscles slackening sweet and syrupy to make space for more, more, more. She keens when he turns his face into the curve of her breast, fingers curling in his hair, holding him there in the cradle of her heartbeat, his ears rushing with it. 

It is not pretty, it is not about making it perfect, or even right. It is a desperate seeking, it is relief from this need in the way they just manage to shrug his jeans and boxers down over his thighs, in the way she slips the faded cotton of her underwear to the side. Wet for him, wanting for him, he will have to sate the want to see some other time. For now, feeling, all sense and singe, spreading her open until her hips settle down against his. A broken, murmuring sound in the back of her throat, eyes scrunched shut. He brings his hand to her jaw, thumb stroking along the hinge as he calls to her, let me see, Dovey, please. Hello, lashes flutter first, and the slow slip open. Hello, looking at him, her forehead against his, her mouth resting open and panting against his. 

They move ugly, muscles jumping and jolting, sharp breaths that break and swell in their chests. Skin starts to stick, he holds her closer and chases down their pleasure, shared and searing. 

In the kitchen, she crashes with a cry of his name, her face hidden in the curve of his neck, mouth to pulse. 

In the kitchen, she whispers and wills him right over his own edge, her name, more sob than sound. 

In the kitchen, he would feed her his heart if he could. It’s hers anyways. 

…

Want is a child. But need is an animal. Need is base, bruising, battering. There is no escaping need. There is no lying about need. There is only offering it up, and hoping that someone will see it and decide yes, animal, come here, let me do something about your need, and you can do something about mine. 

Later, after they pick their clothes up off the kitchen floor, kind hands setting things back into place for each other, they slink outside to care for the flock, the sun starting to flirt back behind the mountains with a fierce blush. It’s then, surrounded by the low murmurings of sheep, that she whispers her own need to him, tucked into his side, her cheek pressed against his chest. 

He nods, says yes, okay. He can do that for her. And she will do the same for him. 

For now, all that matters is staying. Ghosts yet to be greeted and goaded out of their house. But for now, spring is rolling over to expose its soft, slumbering belly. Soon, summer will sink in, snarling and bright, a new list of chores and duties with every season. They will do it together. 

For now, the lambs are still lambs. Stumbling still around the edges, seeking out their mother even amidst her seeming exasperation, tired of their clinging, their closeness. Time yet to be had, getting older and bigger every day. But for now, they are young and soft, and nipping after each other in the field. 

For now, the feeling of her ribs expanding and contracting against his side is all the goodness he could want, or even need. Pain yet to be understood in all the places that her breath catches. But for now, she is looking at him and smiling, and saying something about the sheep that makes him laugh.

For now, it is enough. 

.............................................

taglist: @casssiopeia @eleganthottubfun @anoverwhelmingdin @sscorpiiio @joeldjarin @casa-boiardi @suzmagine @syakhairi @spookyxsam @northernbluess @hier--soir @joelsgreys @wannab-urs @tieronecrush @trulybetty @softlyspector @noisynightmarepoetry @csarab615 @ratoonstown @harriedandharassed @survivingandenduring @lizzie-cakes @beskarandblasters @motherofagony

[theplotdemandsit]

Hello

I'm wanted so bad to see a interaction between umbrella Ben and Five, if he didnt die or they find a way to bring him back to life.

Umbrella Ben was way more nicer and heroic than sparrow Ben, but he also have the sassy and know it all attitude it would be fun to watch him hanging out with the other siblings besides Klaus.

Apologies if this is an odd reply because I am a little slow at reading between the lines. You didn’t technically ask a question, but I’m about to give you a stupid long answer. BUT. Friend, absolutely same. I wanted to see Ben and Five finally talk. As I was thinking about this, I wondered how Umbrella Ben might have come back to life had the plot demanded it (which it should have). The result was 2 possible scenarios:

1. Klaus saves Ben by dying and searching the afterlife for him. And somehow bringing him back because why not.

2. Five learns to reveals time for individual objects and parts of people (kind of like how Sera from the Webtoon Unordinary uses her power). In this way, he reverses Ben’s disappearance—not brining him back to life but just…undoing a second death.

One of these is less likely than the others (I’ll let you decide which one), but let’s roll with it.

Anyway. Because I can’t seem to turn off my inner narrative, here is the interaction I wanted with Ben and Five. In my head, it would have taken place after the end of season 2 while still in the 60s.

When Five sees Ben, it’s unexpected. Klaus is cheering; Victor is crying; Allison’s trembling hands are covering her mouth; Luther and Diego are wrapping their arms around their brother.

But Five just stands there.

He stands there until he makes eye contact with the brother he never saved. Ben gently peels the others off of him and moves towards him.

It’s not until they touch that Five realizes he’s real.

Suddenly Ben’s arms are folding him into a hug and any air Five still had in his lungs gets squeezed out of him even though Ben isn’t hugging that tightly. He doesn’t push him away, but he also can’t seem to move.

Because this is the brother he couldn’t save. The sibling he was never there for. It’s different with Ben than with the others because Ben never made it to 17. Because even though Five went back in time and saved everyone else, he couldn’t save him and he hates that if the choice came between saving most of his family versus one of them, he’d choose the former. He hates it he hates it he hates that about himself.

His eyes start stinging now and so he squeezes them shut and lets himself be hugged. Everyone else in his family has hardly even touched Five let alone hugged him—probably due to their preference for life—but this is Ben and before he knows it, Five’s arms are wrapped tight around him too.

Five can’t remember the last time he hugged somebody aside from Delores.

Finally catching his breath again, Five starts to let go, and he and Ben step apart. Five gives Ben a brief smile before sighing and turning serious.

“Next time our idiot brother feels inclined to lie about you or anything else again, I trust you to bludgeon him with your fists.”

While Klaus shouts an objection, Ben laughs and the sound is like music. Unlike how Five remembers it, his laugh is loud and carefree. Good.

“And exactly which idiot brother are you referring to?” asks Luther.

Five sighs. “Right. I forgot I had more than one.”

[sissylittlefeather]

This is the Story

Chapter 8

(Finally)

A/N: WHEW this was a tough one. Idk if it was the moon or what, but damn I had some writer's block. Special thanks to @ccab and @elvisfatass for helping shake me out of it. I had a bit of a writing hangover after the joy of Chapter 7. I hope you all enjoy this one!

ICYMI: This is the series with 1973 Elvis and the OC Grace Dubois, author and single mom of 6yo Wendy. Want to catch up? Here are the links:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Warnings: 18+ MDNI SMUT, kissing, cussing, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word count: 3.1k

In between each kiss, he whispers.

"I love you."

******

When morning comes, the sunlight streams in through the hotel window and across the bed, waking Grace. For a second, she forgets where she is, but she relaxes when she feels Elvis wrapped around her. She rolls over to look at him. His face is almost angelic as he sleeps peacefully, breathing softly.

Last night felt like a miracle and she's not ready to lose the feeling of safety in their hotel room bubble. She knows once they step outside, everything becomes complicated, but right now, here, in the light of the morning, she's at peace knowing he loves her and she loves him. Nothing else matters.

She runs her fingertip across his brow and down his cheek to his jawline, tracing the shadow of his facial hair that appeared overnight. Finally, she leans in and kisses the end of his nose, which causes him to stir a little. He reaches out and pulls her to him before he even opens his eyes. She's not sure she'll ever get used to the way her heart skips a beat when he touches her.

When he opens his eyes, a smile spreads across his face.

"Good morning, honey."

"Hi. How'd you sleep?"

"Better than I have in a long time. You?"

"I'm a whole new woman." She stretches and he presses his hips into her, revealing his normal morning erection. "Oh, hello soldier!" She laughs, but then he pulls her into a kiss and she feels her arousal begin to form.

He kisses and nuzzles her neck and then moves down her chest. She hadn't intended to sleep naked, but the feeling of his skin on hers was too good to interrupt with clothing, so he has easy access to her breasts. He moans quietly as he drags his tongue in a circle around her nipple, pinching the other one softly. She arches her back as he kisses back up her neck and then she puts her leg over his hip. He slept naked too, so it doesn't take much for him to line himself up and slide inside her.

"Fuck yes." She moans loudly as he slowly thrusts against her.

"You've got a dirty mouth, doll." He smiles as he continues to fuck her gently.

"You love me." She smiles back at him.

"God, I really do." He leans in and kisses her passionately, rolling his hips rhythmically against her as they continue to make love. After a few more minutes, he rolls her onto her back and keeps going.

"Goddamn, baby. You feel so good." He grunts and kisses her shoulder. She wraps her legs around him and he starts to move faster.

"Don't stop." She whispers in his ear, breathily. She feels herself approaching the edge too as he pushes into her over and over. His dick is perfect to hit all the right places inside her and she can't get enough. He leans in and kisses her again as he pumps in and out of her.

"I'm close, baby." She nods.

"Me too." He picks up the pace just a little more and a minute or two later they both tumble over the edge of oblivion together, moaning and cussing in turns, him shuddering and filling her with his release and her pulsing around him.

This time she says it first, pushing his hair back off of his forehead and holding his face in her hands.

"I love you." He smiles and kisses her softly.

"I love you too, honey." He rests his head on her chest as she runs her fingers through his hair and massages his scalp. They're both reluctant to admit that they need to get up and go back to real life.

He has an idea and pops his head up to look at her.

"Wanna take a shower?" A smile crawls across her face and she nods excitedly. He jumps up and they make their way to the bathroom together. He starts the shower and she steps in, laughing and wrapping her arms around him as he pulls the curtain shut. Reality can wait a little while longer.

******

When Grace and Elvis finally roll up to her mom's house to pick up Wendy, it's lunch time. She doesn't think too much of it as she knocks on the door. This time Maryann answers.

"Mhmmm. Get in here, lovebirds." Grace protests and Elvis simply raises his eyebrows.

"What? We're not...?"

"I'm messing with you, sis." But Maryann smirks knowingly. They walk into the house and Grace makes her way back to the kitchen. Elvis is caught in some kind of game with the kids where he has to pretend to be shot and play dead, which he does easily. As soon as they are out of earshot Maryann rounds on Grace.

"You slept with him!"

"Maryann! That is really none of your business!" Ruth chimes in. Then she looks at Grace expectantly. They seem to be waiting for some kind of confession from her.

"Okay! Yes! I slept with him!" Her mother shakes her head.

"Was he? I mean... there's rumors... was it...? Is he as good as they say?" Maryann dances around the question, but finally gets to it. Grace responds with a smile and a single word.

"Better."

Ruth rolls her eyes and Maryann claps excitedly.

"Good. It's about damn time you got with somebody decent. He's a huge improvement, as far as I can tell." Maryann looks Grace dead in the eye. "Please don't let the fact that he's Elvis Presley ruin your happiness with him."

Grace, who has been sparkly-eyed and giddy all morning gets a little serious in response.

"I won't."

Maryann reaches out and squeezes her arm with a knowing smile. Ruth pulls her into a hug.

"I'm just happy you're happy."

******

Once everyone is loaded into the car and ready to drive back to Memphis, Elvis almost leans over to kiss Grace, but he notices Wendy is watching. Before he does anything he turns to her.

"Wendy, I'd like to kiss your mama. Is that okay with you?" Wendy smiles.

"Yes, please, Daddy." He nods in response and Grace laughs. Then he leans in and gives her a quick but sensual kiss on the lips. Wendy does a silent happy dance.

"Home, then?" Elvis looks to Grace and she nods. Somehow, Memphis has become home. He puts the car in drive and they set off on the long journey east.

******

It's dark when they pull into the driveway of Graceland, night coming earlier under the November moon. Grace is exhausted from the long drive.

"Stay here tonight?" Elvis offers up a suggestion to keep her from driving home so tired. She nods and they all head inside.

When they get there, though, Colonel Parker is waiting in the foyer.

"Where have you been, Mr. Presley?" Elvis freezes when he hears the voice and Grace can tell he's nervous to answer.

"He came to my mom's house for Thanksgiving. Is that a problem?"

"It's only a problem, my dear, if anyone saw you." The Colonel is staring daggers at Elvis, who returns his icy glare.

"Colonel, go home. This isn't your business."

"My boy, you are my business. And I'm not sure you're taking care of it properly."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow." Elvis opens the door for the Colonel to leave.

Grace knew things would be complicated when they got back to Memphis, but she didn't expect so much trouble from the Colonel. He walks out the door and looks back at Elvis.

"You will see, my boy. You will see." Then he makes his way to the driveway and disappears.

"Ignore him, please." Elvis turns Grace to him and wraps his arms around her. He kisses her forehead and she leans into the comfort of him against her. After a few seconds, he lets her go and turns to Wendy.

"Would you like to sleep in Lisa's room?" She nods excitedly and bounces up the stairs. Once she's settled in there, he walks with Grace to his bedroom. They both change into pajamas and climb into the big bed together. Everything about this feels so natural that they don't even question anything. She snuggles into him and thinks about what Maryann said.

Yes, there are aspects of his life that might make their relationship complicated, but this part, them together in bed, is the easiest thing she's ever done.

"I love you, honey." He whispers in her ear as he nuzzles into her hair from behind. She pulls his arm tighter around her and whispers in return.

"I love you, Elvis." They fall asleep there together like they plan to do it every night for the rest of their lives.

******

"Mr. Ebert, this is Colonel Parker. I apologize for the late call."

"Please, call me Frank. What do you need?"

"I'd like to request a new ghost writer for Elvis Presley's book."

"Is he dissatisfied with Grace?"

"Quite the opposite. Please send a male author this time."

"I'm sorry, sir, she's done too much work already. Starting over with a new author would take time that you just don't have if you want the book finished next year."

"Have you looked into her expense account recently? I believe there are some charges you might find interesting."

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about. But I'll look into it."

"Please do. And after you do, send a man to finish the book."

******

Grace and Wendy spend the rest of the weekend at Graceland. For the most part, they're a happy little family living a decently quiet life. Elvis answers calls and has a meeting or two, but he makes time for Grace and Wendy when he can. Sunday night, Frank calls.

"Grace, why aren't you home? Paulette said you were with Elvis?" She puts her hand on her forehead. This won't be easy to explain.

"Yes. I, well, we, he came home to Tulsa with me and we got back Friday and Wendy and I are... still here..."

"Grace. I specifically told you to keep your distance. What are you doing?!"

"It's not... I..."

"Grace, do you need to be reassigned? Because his manager is asking for a new author."

"No, Frank, please don't. I'm still writing the book. We're just... friends..."

"Go to your apartment, Grace. And send Paulette back on your own dime. The higher-ups have requested that I shut down your expense account because of suspicious use. I will bring you home if I need to."

"Suspicious use? I'm working! I need my nanny!"

"Your expense account does not cover a babysitter for date nights with Elvis Presley." Grace feels the tears burn in the corners of her eyes. They haven't even been on a date yet. "Shut it down, Grace."

"Yes, sir." Elvis notices the change in her demeanor from across the room where he sits with Wendy. She hangs up the phone and turns back to him with tears on her cheeks.

"What happened?"

"We have to go back to the apartment."

"Says who?"

"My editor. He says if I don't keep our relationship professional, he'll bring me home and send a different author. I just don't know how he knew..."

"The Colonel. Goddamn that man." Elvis stands up in a mild rage. "My personal life is none of his goddamn business."

He walks to Grace and cups her face in his hands. She looks up at him as the tears slide down and he wipes them with his thumbs.

"I'm not ready for this to be over."

"Over? Honey, this is nowhere near over." He wraps his arms around her.

"But Frank said-"

"I don't give a damn what Frank said."

"He's my boss. I have to give a damn." Elvis pulls back and looks at her.

"Quit your job. Just stay here with me." Her eyebrows knit together in the center of her forehead.

"I can't do that, Elvis. I need my job. I have to know I have a backup if you... well..."

"If I what?"

"Well, if you... move on..."

"Move on? Are you suggesting that I would be unfaithful?"

"Elvis. Let's be realistic here. The only reason you're so captivated by me is that I'm here and all your fans are not. When you get back to Vegas or on tour, I'll be the furthest thing from your mind."

"Grace, I'm in love with you. You think that means nothing to me?"

"I think you've been in love before." He steps back like she slapped him, a look of utter betrayal on his face.

"Is that really what you think of me?"

"That's what I think of any man in your shoes. It's not a commentary on your character."

"Oh, well as long as it's not a commentary on my character. That's a pretty shitty thing to think, Grace."

"Well, I've had some pretty shitty things happen to me before from people that I trusted."

"I'm not him."

"No, but you're you."

"What the hell does that mean?" He raises his voice with this statement and Grace becomes keenly aware of Wendy's presence.

"Maybe we should just go."

"Maybe you should." She turns away from him and stomps up the stairs to pack her and Wendy's things. He picks up the closest knick knack and intends to throw it when he realizes Wendy is still sitting and watching him. Instead, he slams it down and walks out of the room. Wendy sighs and shakes her head.

A few minutes later, Grace comes down the stairs, suitcases in hand, still fuming. Elvis stands at the kitchen counter for a bit trying to decide if he wants to see her before she leaves. He knows he does, but he's still pretty upset about what she said.

"We're leaving!" He slams his hands on the counter and walks out to the foyer.

"I'll see you tomorrow? To work on the book?" She asks quietly without looking up at him.

"Sure." He responds. She nods, crying silently. There it is again: the overwhelming need to comfort her, even though he's angry with her. But he doesn't give in. Instead, he opens the door for her as she and Wendy make their way to her car.

When she gets to the car door, she looks back up at the house, but he's already shut the front door. She doesn't see him on the other side leaning against it near tears himself.

******

On Monday, there's a noticeable chilly tension between Elvis and Grace as they go back to talking about the book. He's dying to wrap his arms around her and she's desperate to lay her head on his shoulder and cry, but they maintain a healthy distance. Neither of them are sure where their relationship stands at this point or if it's even a relationship anymore. Grace knows the things she said were hurtful. And she didn't mean to say them. She was just so scared of being hurt again. She knew she couldn't fully rely on any man, not just Elvis. And he knows she had a point. He didn't have the greatest track record. Why should she trust him?

As she's packing up to leave, though, he reaches out and touches her face. She's just about to apologize when the Colonel bursts through the door and slams a tabloid on the desk. On the front page is a picture of Elvis and Grace walking together out of the hotel in Tulsa. The headline reads, "Presley's New Mystery Love: Too Soon After Divorce?"

"What the fuck?" Elvis says it first, but it's exactly what Grace is thinking.

"I told you this was a risk. You did not listen. And now you will pay the price in the media." The Colonel speaks slowly and deliberately. "As soon as they know who she is, and they will, then neither of you will be safe from them. Is this what you had in mind, my boy?"

"Of course not. I didn't even know anyone took our picture. What do we do?" He looks to the Colonel frantically and Grace backs away with her hand over her mouth.

Wendy's father will see this and there is no telling how he will respond. He's tried to reach out to Grace over the years and she's managed to stay away from him by keeping hidden. He was not the kind of man she wanted in her daughter's life. In a way, she had considered it a blessing that he'd left when he did. Now he will know where to find her and it's only a matter of time before he shows up.

"Grace?" Elvis turns to her as she stands with her back against the door and her hand over her mouth.

"I can't be here. I have to go." She gathers her things and runs for her car.

"Grace!" Elvis yells after her, but she doesn't stop. He can tell something is wrong, but he's not sure what. This is about more than just her picture in the newspaper. He gets to her car just before she pulls out.

"Grace! Talk to me. What's going on?" She rolls the window down.

"It's Wendy's father. If he finds me..."

"Then stay here. I'll protect you."

"No! Don't you see? This is exactly where he will come. I can't be here."

"Grace, I have guards and gates and, hell, an arsenal of guns here. Please stay." She looks up at him through the window, her hands shaking on the steering wheel.

"Wendy?"

"I'll send a car for her and Paulette right now." She nods her head slowly and turns the car off. He helps her out of the car and back up to the house. As they walk, she pauses and looks up at him.

"Don't shoot him." She smiles weakly.

"I can't make any promises, doll." He chuckles lightly.

Once inside, he sends Jerry to get Wendy and Paulette. Grace calls and tells Paulette to pack up as much clothing as possible for the three of them. She'll send Paulette home on the first plane out of Memphis.

The Colonel is in shock. He didn't expect this to be the response to his announcement. He hoped this would separate them further, but it seems to have brought them back together. He sneaks out, wheels turning in his mind.

Several hours later, Wendy is settled at Graceland and Jerry takes Paulette to the airport.

"Mama, are we going to stay here with Daddy now?" Wendy asks as Grace holds her close on the couch in the TV room.

"Yes, baby. For a little while at least."

"Good. I like it here." Grace smiles and kisses Wendy on the hair.

Elvis stands in the doorway protectively, watching the scene in front of him. He hasn't forgotten the hurtful things she said, but it doesn't change the fact that he loves her, and Wendy too. He can put his own feelings aside to make sure nothing happens to them.

******

Until next time!

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@ccab @elvisfatass @elvisalltheway101 @ashtag6887 @aliypop @your-nanas-house @dkayfixates @everythingelvispresley @xanatenshi @returntopresley @p0lksaladannie @deniseinmn @jaqueline19997 @that-hotdog @mykievolturi @18lkpeters @joshuntildawn13 @rjmartin11 @littlehoneyposts @epthedream69

[stratossphere]

do you have a part 2 planned to the jealously v.v fic? because 👀 people would kill for a jealous smut

mine. | v.v

ville’s jealousy doesn’t take much to rear its ugly head. and you know it.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), enough possessiveness to kill a man, getting walked in on, blatant exhibitionism

word count: 7.7k (sorry!!! plot!!!)

a/n: this isn’t exactly a pt. 2, but it is a jealous smut! sorry it took so long to get to this ask but this has been sitting in my drafts for a while so here you go :)

tags: @asskickedbygirl @lieutenant-cinnamon-roll @kissofdawn666 @brandons-wife @valos-venus-doom @ghoulishguns @4377666 @d34c1

— —

Sometimes, you wondered how the hell Ville had so many 'friends'. All around the world, wherever you went together, he always knew somebody. And, tonight in Amsterdam, he apparently knew a lot of people. He insisted they weren't his friends, because Ville was about the opposite of a people person, and yet they acted like long lost brothers when they'd all seen each other after HIM's show.

And, of course, you were the only girl in the entire apartment that we had migrated to for the night. Everyone else was either a member of a band you'd never heard of or was a tattoo artist of some kind, and everyone was either ridiculously trashed or smelled ridiculously bad.

So yeah. The night was going great.

You were currently sitting on a couch with what had been Ville and some dude that he'd apparently done shows with on HIM's first ever tour, but Ville kept getting up, so you kept being left alone with his grimy friend. Who clearly had a thing for you, because every time Ville would get up for something, his arm would move to rest on the back of the couch behind your head.

"I’ve never seen a woman that could hold real drinks like you can.” Sometimes men made you wonder how they ever caught any game. This guy especially, considering how many times he’d tried lines on you in the short amount of time Ville had been away from your side.

"How many women have you seen?" You were trying to hold an unbothered tone despite being extremely uncomfortable and extremely close to snapping on this guy, but you couldn't help but make a tiny, unnoticeable dig. He leaned into the arm behind you a little more, and you silently prayed that Ville would come back with the drink he had left to go get soon.

"I'm around one right now. I'm just saying, I'm impressed." He grinned like he'd just nailed the best compliment ever given, and all you did was sigh and take a long sip of your drink as you looked away from him again.

"Thanks." Great. Your drinking skills had impressed someone that probably shot up on his weekends. You didn't want to think too hard about what that had to say about you.

"So, how long have you and Ville been together?" Jesus Christ. It seemed like men who assumed girls would fuck them just because they were confident never had any humility. It made you glad you had ended up dating the man who was about as uninterested in using his lead-singer position to impress or manipulate as one could possibly get.

"A few years. So uh, pretty serious." You said, giving him a pointed look and then glancing at his arm where it was getting painfully close to being around your shoulders. He obviously didn't take the hint, and it felt like he was only leaning in closer.

"Yeah? Where'd he go?" That was clearly a pointed statement, and as you leaned a little bit away whilst considering how much of a problem it would cause if you just nailed this fucker right in the face, you suddenly spotted your saving grace coming back into the living room as he loudly talked to some other dude that was in the same band as the guy sitting next to you. You breathed out a sigh of relief as you pointed right towards Ville.

"He's right there." Your movement seemed to draw Ville's attention, and as soon as he was actively looking in your direction, you gave him a look that pleaded for him to get you out of the situation that he had left you in. As soon as his eyes moved from you to the guy sitting ridiculously close by this point, he stopped talking and his jaw squared. You immediately felt the guy's arm withdraw from behind you when he followed where you were pointing.

"Oh, uh...Jesus. He really knows how to sneak up on a fucker." He tried to play his nervousness off with a laugh, but you could see him subtly moving away from you with every step that Ville took towards the both of you. "Hey, man! Did you bring beers for all of us?"

"It's for her. Get fucking lost." He had shifted into full death-stare mode, and he was standing directly in front of the guy with a beer in each hand. You held a hand over your mouth to cover your grin as the guy spluttered in the face of your boyfriend looming over him.

"What—"

"Get fucking lost. You're in my spot." This time Ville motioned aggressively for him to get up, and you had never seen a person move faster in your life as he shot up from the couch. Ville shouldered him as the guy walked past, muttering something you couldn't hear before he was replacing his spot on the couch and immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulders with that stare still on his face. "And don't fucking look over here, either."

Once again, you had your hand over your mouth to hide your beaming grin, and the guy just tried to act like he was scoffing Ville's snap at him off before he walked away.

"You should've came and got me." Ville said through his teeth as he opened your beer for you before handing it over. You rested your cheek against his shoulder, thankful to have him back next to you again so that you weren't stuck alone surrounded by kind-of disgusting rockstars.

"I mean, what do you expect, babe? I'm the only girl in this entire apartment right now." You said calmly, not really all that affected by it now that Ville was next to you again. He only let out a huff.

"I don't give a shit. It makes me want to fucking kill someone when you get that look on your face." He said tightly, referring to the uncomfortable look you’d given him when he'd come into the living room. You leaned up to kiss his cheek, smiling against his skin.

"You're so sweet." You cooed, noticing that despite the fact that you were giving him a kiss, he in no way acknowledged you or even glanced in your direction. Upon following his gaze, you realized that he could still see the guy that had now moved to the kitchen, and he was still staring. You ran a hand over his hair. "Ville. Honey, relax. It's okay."

"No it's not. No one needs to be getting that close to you." He muttered, finally looking at you when you continued to push his hair back out of his face and behind his ears. "I'm surprised you put up with it for that long."

"Well, he's your friend. I didn't want to start a big thing." You shrugged, wrapping your arm around his shoulders so that you could be closer to him where his was still wrapped around yours while you drew your legs up to your chest. He spat out a scoff at that.

"That dick is not my fucking friend. And even if he was, I still wouldn't care. You could punch Mige if he ever got that close and I'd understand." He insisted, speaking fast and harshly out of hatred. "I shouldn't have brought you here. I promise I won't leave you until we're ready to go."

Thankfully, with every beer that he drank, Ville seemed to lose interest in his proclaimed worst enemy for the night, and you finally felt able to relax as he slowly gave up the hatred that had been brimming inside of him. That was, until Mige showed up with an apprehensive look on his face.

“Uh…I’ve got something you probably want to know.” He admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced back toward the kitchen. You let out a sigh as Ville perked up at that, his hand slipping under your shirt to rub your lower back where his arm had moved to wrap loosely around your waist. He was clearly trying to relax you, but you had already noticed the way he was heating up all over again. It didn’t take much. Mige motioned for you to lean in like he was going to tell you a secret.

"You know Esa? The drummer who used to huff spray paint?" He said, motioning back like you were going to see him standing right behind him. You immediately felt Ville fully stiffen next to you before he was wrapping his arm around your shoulders and almost around your neck as a result, and using your innate ability to pick up context clues, you assumed that Esa was who had been sitting next to you on the couch.

"What. What the fuck did he do." All of that animosity that had been in Ville's voice 15 minutes ago had come violently shooting back, and you rolled your eyes as you shoved your fingers between you and Ville's arm so that he wasn't squeezing you so tight and possessively.

"He is talking ridiculous amounts of shit about you in the kitchen. Things that we wouldn't even say." Mige announced, shaking his head as he said it. His tone of voice told me he didn't exactly feel great about saying that in the face of what was becoming Ville's furious stare. "And he's uh...talking about your 'hot ass' girlfriend."

Ville immediately moved like he was going to stand up, but you stopped him with a tight hand on his arm, giving him a look that warned him not to act impulsively. Ville usually lost sight of his senses when he was even the slightest bit irritated. Especially when it involved you.

"Y/n, let me go." He was speaking through his teeth, and he pulled in your grasp but not actually standing up. Mige watched this with amusement in his eyes but didn’t yet interject as you bickered back and forth with your overzealous boyfriend.

"You promised you wouldn't leave me again, so don't." You warned, tipping your head so that you could give him a death stare. "Take a fucking pill, Ville. Everything is fine."

"Yeah. Take a fucking pill, Ville." Mige goaded, snickering when he saw Ville force himself to relax under your direction. Ville did, however, reach out his long leg and kick Mige's chair back a good foot or so.

This was clearly not working for calming Ville’s nerves, and you sighed before excusing both him and yourself to give him some space to decompress. You knew he was more than antsy, and that the incident with Esa had thrown him off indefinitely for the night, so you were quick to get him alone for everyone else’s sake.

So, a few minutes later in the bathroom, you turned on him with an unimpressed look on your face.

"What's wrong, honey?" You asked, biting the bullet because he clearly looked both incurably miserable and uneasy. He immediately spun around so that he was fully facing you.

"I want to strangle that fucking cunt and then drown him in a puddle of my fucking piss." He spat, one fist clenching while he jabbed a finger back towards where the party was still going on past the bathroom door with his other hand. You snorted at that.

"That's really descriptive. Thank you." You said painfully, taking his hand where it was balled up in a fist and gently uncurling his fingers. "We can go if you've had enough."

"I'm not that much of a bitch." He sighed woefully, letting his hand fall limply at his side once you'd undone his angry fist and then continuing to mope as you moved behind him to press yourself against his back and wrap your arms around his hips over his belt.

"If it makes you feel any better, he’s really fucking ugly." You mumbled as you slipped your hands under his shirt to rub your warm palms over his even warmer stomach. Ville chuckled half-heartedly at that, a soft sigh escaping his lips at your touch.

"I'm not really a looks man." His joke came out dryly, but you laughed regardless, wishing you were tall enough to rest your chin on his shoulder but instead settling for your cheek resting against his shoulder blade.

"Let me rephrase. I'm only going to suffer through drunk party sex with one man tonight, and it certainly isn't Esa." You hummed, letting your hands fall still around his abdomen as you hugged him tightly and leaned up as high as you could go so that you could press a kiss right over the tattoo on the back of his neck. "Think horny instead of hateful, please."

"Ah, you always know the way to my heart, my love." He seemed to lighten a little bit at the word 'horny' leaving your mouth, because he was nothing if not someone who took an opportunity, and he quickly turned in your grasp with a soft smile on his face. "Am I being too much?"

"I think the 'piss puddle' part did it. You need to fucking relax and stop letting everything bend you out of shape." It had been too long of a day for you to word that nicely, but he usually didn't take the hint until he was forced to, so that actually worked well in your favor. He leaned down to kiss you when you slid a hand up to the back of his head to encourage him to do so, but his eyes were still troubled.

"I just fucking hate it that I can't even introduce you to anyone I know without feeling like I'm feeding you to a goddamn wolf's den." He complained, fisting a possessive hand in your hair as he looked down at you with a deep frown. You cooed, rubbing your thumb over his cheek where you were still cupping his jaw.

"Honey, I promise you're making it out worse than it really is. They're all men in their 20s. No man in his 20s comes on to women appropriately." You reassured, giving him a look because he was the pinnacle of that statement. A hint of a coy grin moved to his lips then, and he tucked his face further against your touch.

"It's a daily heartache to be so in love with the most beautiful woman to ever have been created, you know that? I get tired from having to keep back the hoards." He spoke in the verge of whining, and you full-on laughed at that, because he was sweet. Eternally grumpy, but so sweet.

“Are you going to be able to breathe normally out there? I’m really fine with leaving.” You reiterated, letting your hand drop because you knew you couldn’t stay cooped up in a bathroom forever. He blew out a scoff.

“Yes. I’m fine.”

However, he was not in fact fine. Because the second you and Ville re-emerged into the party, you were inexplicably being dragged to the kitchen. You knew he was lying when he said he needed another drink, and you settled with the fate that he was probably looking for Esa. All of your soothing had been for nothing, apparently.

“Please don’t. I don’t want to be a part of a fight.” You complained as Ville led you into the kitchen, stepping around couples standing way too close together to get to the drinks as you watched your boyfriend’s eyes scan the room. He just waved you off.

“I just want to talk to him.” He reassured, his words coming up empty because you could so clearly see the animosity building in his eyes once again. You frowned skeptically.

“I’m getting another beer. Leave me out of it. Seriously.”

You stepped apart from Ville then, letting him do whatever the fuck you clearly couldn’t stop him from doing as you genuinely just tried to find another beer. You were starting to wish this night would just end, because you knew it was right on the verge of turning into a shitshow, but this had mostly been for Ville. It wasn’t often you were in Amsterdam long enough to stop and say hi to anybody, and a good portion of the people at this party were truly his good friends.

But Ville had never been one to quit. And the ‘hot ass girlfriend’ comment that Mige had relayed to the both of you was clearly digging deep, because within a few seconds of searching around, you had lost him completely.

And, just your luck, someone else appeared to take his place.

And that someone else was Esa.

“Are you looking for the beer?” He seemed to sense your irritable confusion in such an overpacked house, but you could see that same hungry look in his eyes as he pointed you in the right direction. “I can make you something special, if you would be so inclined.”

“No thanks. I’m cutting off soon.” You lied, because you knew that you’d watch Esa lose limbs if Ville were to walk up on someone who was so deeply on his nerves making his girlfriend a ‘special’ drink. You weren’t going to encourage what you knew was going to be Ville’s overly-dramatic protective behavior, and you certainly weren’t going to add to it, either.

“Relax. You know, I’ve heard Valo’s girlfriends all do whatever the fuck they want because he never pays attention.” Well, it’s not like he was making it easy for you not to encourage what you knew was going to be a shit-storm when Ville finally found you. You also knew it wouldn’t take long for him to lose his shit.

“Well, Valo’s only got one girlfriend now, and I’d watch yourself with saying he never pays attention.” You said uninterestedly, starting to rip open a new case of European beer and silently wishing that Ville just didn’t have any friends at all. If he was just a little more bitchy, you would never have to go to these parties and play nice with rockstars who knew no boundaries.

“What? Is he supposed to scare me just because he’s your boyfriend or something?” The thought seemed to amuse Esa, but his laughing was short-lived when suddenly it felt as if a shadow had fallen over the both of you. You didn’t even have to look to your side to see who was there.

"What the fuck is that goddamn funny?” Oh yeah. Ville was pissed. And clearly in one of those moods that you knew always led to you breaking up a fistfight. You pushed a gentle hand against Ville’s chest where he was starting to swoop in on Esa like a vulture.

"Just go sit back down. I'll be back in a minute." You reassured, wishing that your fingers could get at the beer box faster to get you (and Ville) out of the goddamn kitchen.

"No. He can stay. If it’ll make you feel less insecure, Valo." And here started the dick measuring contest that you’d been doing your best to avoid. Ville bristled at that statement, and promptly got right in the way of you trying to get more beer. He was too busy glaring over your shoulder, however, and you had to shoulder him to the side because he ignored all your other attempts to get him to move.

"This is all shit fucking beer." Ville clearly pretended that he was talking to himself, but he was talking loud enough for the entire kitchen to hear. Esa scoffed and retorted something you couldn’t hear, but you were more focused on the fact that as you bent over to just grab a beer from an open box of a shittier brand, you felt Ville’s hand on your ass. You let out another huff.

"Go save our spot, Ville." You said tightly as you reached your foot back to nudge him away from you with your heel in his thigh. However, the conversation about you was continuing on without you, and Esa only spat his response to Ville’s insult towards his beer.

"Then maybe you should get out of the kitchen and stop following Y/n around like a fucking bitch." He crooned, shaking his head as he took a step closer to Ville. "You're right up my fucking ass."

"I'll get out of yours as soon as you get out of hers." Ville shot back, getting about three times as close as Esa had just as you stood back up with two beers in hand. "Did no one ever teach you how to shut your fat fucking mouth once in a while?"

"Enough! You both need to shut your fat fucking mouths." You cut that shit really quick where you could see it nearing violent territory, jabbing a finger first at Ville and then in between both of them. "Might as well whip your dicks out now and grab a measuring tape."

"I'm just saying, if you can bear to put your eyes anywhere other than her tits, then I'd be happy to drink your shit beer." Ville completely ignored you, as to be expected, and you quickly grabbed his wrist tightly where he had his arms crossed before starting to forcibly pull him away from the kitchen.

"You and I need to talk. Right fucking now." You snarled through your teeth, not giving either Esa nor Ville a chance to get another word in edgewise as you headed towards the hall. You were praying the first door you saw was unoccupied, because you really didn't feel like going in on Ville in the bathroom, and you let out a breath of relief when you opened the door to an empty bedroom.

"You're hurting my fucking arm." Ville complained as he came into the guest room after you, looking completely unbothered when you slammed the door behind him about as hard as you could.

"I don't give a shit!" You let yourself boil over for a second, throwing a hand in the air as you stared at him with my eyes wide. "Are you seriously that immature that you needed to talk about my tits to some dick I’ve never met? Do you have no consideration for how I feel about you saying things like that?"

"Y/n, I understand that you like to live life pretending that all the men around you aren't objectifying you, but I can't stand it. If he's looking at you like he wants to bend you over the counter, then I'm going to say something." Ville replied hotly, giving you a look that basically said what do you want me to do about it. "And don't even try to give me a face about it. I know you knew he was doing it."

"Yes, I did know he was doing it. But causing a scene and making me look like an object that you’re battling for doesn’t help." You groaned as you dropped down on the suspiciously unmade bed behind you, raking your fingers through your hair. "The more attention you give someone, the more they’re going to do it."

"So what am I supposed to do, then? Stand there and fucking smile while he takes mental pictures of your tits and ass to jerk it to later?" Ville asked, speaking crudely as he stepped a little further forward so that he was standing directly in front of you. You glared up at him.

"Ville." You didn't need the image of some grimy stoner jacking off to mental pictures of you in your head. "One of you shared a bed with me every night and the other one only knows my name. I don’t understand how you’re worried."

"I'm not worried. You're just mine." He spoke possessively, and a simple glance forward where his crotch was basically right in your face told you what territory this was steadily veering into. "I just don't think he knows that well enough."

"Once again, I'm not a possession. You don't own me between the two of you." You’d reminded him many times how irritating it was when he acted like he was defending his property, and yet he never seemed to listen. He reached down and grabbed your chin roughly between his fingers, that infamous stare trained heavily on you.

"Your pussy is certainly fucking mine. I know he knows that." He said lowly, giving you a look that dared you to say otherwise. You just stared back at him with your lips parted slightly, unable to move your head with how hard he was keeping you in place. He pouted his lips at you just slightly. "You know that, right?"

You didn't speak, just nodded slowly as he let you go enough to do so. You knew that all he was thinking about was the thought of you only being his, and you could tell by the fact that his cock was starting to strain against the fabric of his jeans that it was working. And well, at that.

He let you go then, jaw clenching just for a second before his hand came to the outline of his hard-on in his jeans, rubbing slightly as he eyed you with hungry eyes.

"I have to give Esa credit. You are fucking perfect. Every part of you." He said, reaching out and grabbing your chin to tilt upwards so that you were forced to draw your eyes away from where he was palming himself through his pants. "Lie down."

"Baby, this bed is so gross." You mumbled, motioning to the stained sheets and ripped up comforter that you knew without a doubt had seen some questionable things. He shrugged off his coat then, eyes never leaving yours as he came and laid the expensive pinkish-red leather down beneath you on the mattress.

"There. Now lay the fuck down." He repeated, and you couldn't have physically done so as fast as you wanted to when you watched him slowly move to kneel down to his knees at the end of the end in front of you. "You're not my possession, Y/n, but you are my woman. And no one else gets to fucking have you except for me, understand?"

"Always." You inhaled shakily as his fingers found the buckle of your belt, starting to nimbly undo it as, once again, his eyes never left yours. Once your belt was undone and he had pulled it from the loops of your jeans, he hooked his fingers in your waistband and ripped your jeans right down completely unceremoniously. And, as a result, revealing the incredibly skimpy g-string that you were wearing for when you got home. Or now, apparently.

Ville clearly enjoyed the sight, because he pulled your shirt up to your tits to fully expose your lower half, a low groan leaving his lips as his hands ghosted down your sides before they settled at your hips.

"You are so beautiful, you know that? There's a reason no one can ever take their fucking eyes off of you." He mumbled, leaning forward and beginning to kiss softly at your stomach. You whined softly as you felt him sucking at your skin, and as his lips moved, you could see that he was leaving deep hickeys. He then broke away to pull your underwear low on your hips. "Say you're beautiful."

"What?" It was hard to focus, both because he had gone right back to kissing and sucking low on your stomach while his fingers worked on coaxing your underwear down your legs.

"You heard me. Say it so that you know it as well as I do."

God, you were so fucking in love with him.

"I'm beautiful." You said quietly, fingers lacing themselves gently into his hair as he continued to suck deep marks all over your stomach whilst laving his tongue over each one.

"Good girl. I love you." He bit gently at your skin as he spoke, and you gasped slightly as your grip tightened in his hair at the feeling. At that point arousal had fully kicked in, and all irritation had escaped your mind in favor of desperately craving the feeling of his skin on yours.

"I love you. I need you." You whined, spreading your legs wide where he was laying between them. He had your underwear in his hand, and his mouth on your stomach was so close to where you really wanted him that your clit was aching.

"I'll give you whatever you want, love. All you have to do is ask." He said, and you watched as he pushed your underwear into his back pocket. That was definitely going to cause issues later, but you weren't in the mindset to worry about it now.

"Touch me. In any way. I don't care." You begged, reaching up to slide your foot and then leg over his shoulder as an incentive. He very clearly eyed your pussy as his tongue darted between his lips, and then his hands were quickly at your thighs to hold them open before he was leaning down and licking a long stripe from your entrance up to your clit. You whimpered, hand immediately shooting down to card your fingers through his long, messy hair. "Yeah, just like that."

Ville guided your other leg over his shoulder, groaning with the feeling of your fingers in his hair as he quickly began to suck at your clit, hands on your hips holding you down as you began to roll them with every stroke of his tongue. He wasn't teasing at all by this point, and you knew it was because he was trying to get you as loud as possible. Which, on one end, annoyed you because you didn’t want to embarrass yourself at this party, but on the other end deeply aroused you because you knew he was claiming you. And you would've been lying had you said that you didn't secretly like the idea of that.

"Baby, please. I need you so bad." You wanted him on you, and you wanted him in you. As much as you loved his head between your legs, you were craving the feeling of every inch of his skin on every inch of yours even more. He lifted his head then, your fingers still attached to hair.

"No. I'm not done yet." He said firmly before he was dipping his mouth back to your pussy, tongue swirling in lazy circles against your clit as those intense green eyes stayed trained directly on you. "God, I love your fucking pussy."

Whining in response, your hand that wasn't in his hair gripped at the already-ripped and fading comforter on the bed tightly, your back arching just slightly as he resumed sucking at your clit. Your soft moans were beginning to develop into high-pitched whimpers, and he only held your legs open wider as he licked and sucked sloppily at your clit.

Your head was spinning with pleasure, especially when his grip on your hips started to ache enough for you to know that you’d have bruises to accompany the deep red and purple hickeys that covered your abdomen. He groaned against your pussy as your grip tightened in his hair, the vibration of his voice making you shudder as you felt your orgasm approaching faster and faster.

"I'm not gonna—I can't—" Your voice was a hoarse stutter as you tried to get across that he was pinpointing the spot that made your legs shake way too aggressively for you to hold on for much longer, and all he did in response was look up at you with wicked delight in his eyes. That was exactly what he wanted.

When you came, your legs closed a little less than gently around his head, your hips arching harshly off the bed despite his tight grip on you as you moaned loudly. You would've had half a mind to consider how many people were standing not a foot away from the door that was the only separation, had he not been continuing his assault on your clit through your orgasm. Instead, all you did was whine his name as he pushed your legs right back open.

"No more. Too much." You breathed, hand pressing into his head as his tongue slowed but didn't stop. He then finally moved his head back, his still-entertained eyes eating you alive as his lips moved to kiss wetly at your inner thigh that was still pressed open with his hand.

"Are you starting to remember who you fucking belong to yet?" He spoke as if he was goading the answer out of you, and when you used enough of your depleted strength to lift your head and shoot him a dirty look, he just crawled right up onto the bed and dropped himself onto you with your legs on either side of his hips. When he was face to face with you, he immediately kissed you sloppily, and all you could taste was yourself on his lips as one of his hands moved to rub up your thigh.

"Will you calm down?" Even though you were out of breath and a little empty-headed from your orgasm, you could clearly see the wild possessiveness that had yet to fade from his eyes. His hand tightened on your thigh, and he stared right down at you as he ground his hips against you.

"Right after I fuck this pussy and remind you whose it is." He said pointedly, biting at your hand when you brought it up to push his hair out of both of your faces. You glanced towards the door that looked as if it had been kicked in and shittily repaired a couple of times.

"The door doesn't lock." You fretted, frowning at where you could see the broken lock even from the bed. You knew better to get naked in unlocked rooms that resided in parties for more than a few minutes in order to avoid someone drunkenly barging in with their hand down the person accompanying them's pants. Ville immediately scoffed.

"I don't give a fuck. I want you now." Of course he didn't care. He never did. This was the man that had stared his own friends down and had kept going when you'd been walked in on whilst going at it when you though no one was going to be on HIM's tour bus.

You weren’t going to deny that you wanted him just as much, so all you did was let him go so that he could get up and undo his jeans, waiting until he stood up off you before you readjusted on top of his coat. He quickly kicked his boots off before he had his belt undone and his zipper down, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watched you watch him push his jeans down and off. The boots coming off was a sign of how committed he was to this whole situation, and you couldn't help but swallow thickly as he came back towards your open legs.

"I don't want to get anything on your coat." You pointed out, pinching the red leather material and looking up to him with that hint of worry still in your eye. He only raised an eyebrow, climbing back into the bed over you.

"Guess it'll just have to be inside you then, huh?" He crooned, pushing your legs open a little wider as he kneeled between them. "You want my cock?"

"Yes. Need you so bad." You pleaded, wrapping your legs loosely around his waist where he hadn't yet moved from his position in your best attempt to lure him forward and onto you. Or into you. "Please, baby. I can't wait anymore."

He shushed you softly, reaching down to pull you further towards him by your hips before he was shifting onto one arm above you while the other hand pumped his cock a few times. Your eyes stayed glued to him as he did so, your lip bit harshly between your teeth as he positioned himself at your entrance and then pushed in slowly. You gasped at the feeling while he groaned deeply, his arms readjusting to hold himself up where they were resting against the bends of your knees and holding your legs spread open wide.

"Fuck, you take my cock so well. You're such a good girl." Ville breathed against your cheek when his head dropped slightly, the deep baritone of his voice so close to your ear making you full-body shiver. You slipped one of your hands underneath his shirt that had started to ride up to scratch your nails against his back as you let out a stuttered moan when his thrusts began to find a fluid rhythm.

The guest-bed frame was shitty as hell, and it was starting to creak loud enough to make your face heat up a little bit with every forceful roll of Ville's hips. Ville obviously didn't care, and only seemed to fuck you harder at the sound of the moans that fell from you lips with every hit of his cock inside of you.

Your nails were now cemented in his back while your other arm wrapped tightly around his neck as he dipped down to kiss you sloppily. It was all tongue and teeth as he groaned into your mouth, your fingers pulling at his hair to get more where he was basically eating you alive with every kiss he gave you.

"Does that feel good? Hm? You like when I fuck you the right fucking way?" Ville broke away to grunt that against your jaw where his lips had drifted, and all you could do was whimper a yes as you tried to ignore both the creaking and the fact that the metal bed frame was beginning to slam into the wall. He then lifted his head to stare right into your eyes, his face brightened with ecstasy. "Whose pussy is this?"

"Yours." You gasped immediately, arching your back up so that your chests were pressed flush up against each other in order to feel him as close as you could possibly get him. He groaned, thrusting particularly hard and hitting your g-spot for the first time that night.

"Tell me again. Whose is it?" He goaded, pressing wet kisses along your jawline and down to your throat as he leaned into his arms a little more so that your legs were stretched even further. Your eyes were slammed shut, and you had to take a deep breath to even force yourself to form words.

"Yours. Only yours." You repeated, your hand on his shoulder where your arm was wrapped around his neck fisting the material of his shirt tightly as you tried to find some semblance of stability where you had none. Ville crooned against your skin.

"Who?" Him and his fucking games. If he hadn't been fucking you so good into oblivion that you could barely see through the stars clouding your vision, you would've snapped at him for making you repeat yourself so many times. You knew what he wanted, and you also knew exactly how he wanted it.

"Ville." You cried his name as you arched your back a little further, opening your eyes just quick enough to see the satisfaction that flashed on his face at the sound. You knew you were being loud. In fact, you were both being ridiculously loud, but you were too far gone to care.

That was, until you heard a loud banging on the door.

"Hey! Is someone in my room?" Holy shit, that was Esa. You immediately opened your mouth to shout something along the lines of 'fuck off, one second', but you then noticed the smirk on Ville's face about a split-second before his hand was clamping down over your mouth.

"We're done when we're done. Don't fucking say anything." He ordered, not relenting his pace even the slightest bit in the face of the threat of the house owner standing just on the other side of the half-busted door. You pleaded with your eyes for him to let up his game for just a second, because you knew exactly what he was aiming for. And you did not like the idea of some random guy walking in on you getting dicked down within an inch of your life in his bed, no matter how much of an asshole he had been. But Ville gave no sign that he cared.

"Hey! I’m fucking serious! Who’s in there?" The irritation in Esa's voice gave you a pretty good idea of how close he was to opening that door, and you whimpered against the cover of Ville's warm hand. He only moaned as his free hand shifted your hips a little so that he could hit deeper inside you.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

About a second later, the door was open. And Ville still had his hand over your mouth, so all you could do was look fearfully towards the doorway where Esa was standing, and respectively getting a complete, full-body shot of Ville fucking deep inside of you. Ville's head had turned as soon as he heard the door opening, and his face was practically lit up with smug, cocky delight as he presumably made direct eye contact with the man he was in an obvious dick-measuring contest with.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Esa immediately stepped back in disgust, his eyes switching between both of you as he quickly reached back for the doorknob. Ville just let out what you knew was an exaggerated groan, his boasting knowing no bounds as Esa muttered something that sounded like fucking dick before he slammed the door shut.

As soon as he was gone, Ville's hand came off of your mouth, and you literally could not physically help the moan that spilled from your lips the second you were free to use your voice again. You had already been close to finishing, and as much as you hated to admit it, Ville's exhibitionistic act had pushed you much closer in record timing. And he knew it, too.

"Oh, was that good? Did you like that, my love?" He breathed out raggedly, his head dipping before he was kissing you slowly and moving his hand that had been over your mouth back against the bend of your knee as he brought you into your original position. "Cum whenever you want, for being such a good fucking girl."

You were going to fucking marry him someday. Maybe smack him upside the head a couple times before then for his behavior problems, but the fact remained. He was so fucking perfect.

"I'm gonna cum. Oh—so good." You whined, subconsciously wondering if you were hurting him with how deep your nails were in his back but simultaneously too fucked-out to stop yourself. He just shushed you and continued, and then you were cumming, legs shaking and spasming harshly as he fucked your g-spot directly through your orgasm with his lips still brushing against yours.

He came soon after, his moan raising a pitch past his normal voice and making another, post-climax shudder roll through your body as his head dropped to your shoulder and he spilled deep inside of you. He hadn't been lying about finishing in you, and you whimpered at the feeling.

His thrusts went shallow and slow for a while as you both came down from your highs before he finally slowed to a stop, his breathing sharp and heavy in your ear as his back heaved against your hand.

"Fucking hell." He muttered as he lifted his head back up, his eyes that had now gone soft finding yours before he leaned down to kiss you. His kisses were much more gentle now, and he moved a hand up to push your hair away from your forehead and out of your face. "You look so perfect right now."

"I love you." Your voice was so hoarse that your words came out as a whisper, but you knew he heard them, and his lips found your cheek and then your forehead before he was slowly pulling up and off you.

"I love you too. Look. You didn't even get anything on my coat." He praised with a hint of amusement in his eyes, his hand trailing softly across your stomach and hip as he gingerly pulled out of you. You ran your hands over your face in an attempt to bring yourself fully back down to earth, shuddering slightly at the aftershocks of him pulling out before you watched him get off the bed.

"I can't believe you let him come in here." You muttered, holding your feet out as he came back with your underwear and jeans in hand to put them back on. He just scoffed.

"Serves him right. I was just giving him a little reminder." He said stubbornly as he pulled your underwear up and over your hips, holding his hand out afterwards to help you sit up. You just shook your head, a slight laugh that you really couldn't control bubbling up in your chest.

"You are something fucking else, you know that? I can't believe you just stared at him." You smacked his chest lightly as you said it, standing up once he had your jeans up your legs and then combing your fingers through his ridiculously-unruly hair as he buttoned them up.

"Well, you're laughing, so clearly you're not that torn up about it." He pointed out, giving you a knowing look as he finished with your jeans and handed you your belt. "Let's get the fuck out of this shithole so that I can have your ass to myself at home."

"It's not like we can stay now, anyway." No way Esa was going to ever let Ville in his house again after tonight. You accepted his kiss when he leaned into you, resting a hand on his thigh with the hand that wasn’t holding your belt and then grinning when you felt him moan shamelessly into your mouth. "I can't believe people think you're shy."

"I am. You just bring the slut out of me." He defended himself adamantly, motioning pointedly to the now-tighter crotch of his jeans as his point of evidence. He really amazed you sometimes.

"You don't want to wait a minute?" Here he was ready to leave, and he was literally hard. And it was pretty obvious, too. He waved it off, that immaturely unbothered look on his face as he started right for the door.

"I don't care. Esa has to get the full picture of what keeps you coming back for more, eh?" Like you said, immaturely unbothered. You just huffed out an unimpressed sigh and carted him out the door as soon as he pulled it open, trying to ignore that you were walking beside your boyfriend who had a full erection.

He was going to drive you fucking insane someday.

[itwasthereaminuteago]

¦¦ 12. Hate Sex ¦¦

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

Frank Castle x female reader

Warnings: knifeplay, rough sex, some fluff

Author’s note: Just another fucking self-indulgent dream isn’t it?

“Get THE FUCK out!” you scream. Frank had never seen you this pissed off before. Especially not with him.

“Hey, hey, I just wanna talk, okay?” he holds his hands up, still slowly making his way across the room towards you. The side of his head smarting from where you’d lobbed a mug at him when he’d first entered your apartment.

You snarl at him, hand reaching for the blade you keep strapped to your thigh. “Fucking GET OUT!”

He keeps advancing. Your fingers twitch.

“C’mon baby…”

“Don’t you dare ‘baby’ me! After what you did?”

He stops where he is, palms still open. “I know, I know. S’why I’m here… to say I’m sorry.”

“It was mine. MINE, Frank.”

“Okay, yeah, maybe I overstepped…” 

You fold your arms and stand leaning into your hip, waiting and watching to see if he could come up with a good enough apology for you. You wouldn’t hold your breath.

“Sure as hell know that now…” he mutters under his breath, “but I thought we were a team?” 

You snort. “A team trusts each other, it was MY target, I had it under control.”

Frank huffs back. “Oh yeah? Is that right?”

You straightened, hackles rising back up ready for a fight. “Yeah it’s fuckin’ right! And if you interfere like that it just shows plain and simple you don’t trust me!”

He looks away and laughs. “You’re right, I don’t trust you.  if you’dve waited one more second he would have been in the fucking wind, girl. It’s just as well I took the shot.”

“That’s a real good apology… coming over here to tell me how I'm doing it wrong, huh?”

Frank shook his head. God, you were so infuriating. “Well somebody’s gotta show ya how it’s done.”

You stepped towards him, your body buzzing, incandescent with rage. “And that’s gonna be you, is it Castle?”

He makes a show of looking around. 

“Don’t see anyone else capable in the room…” 

“Oh you’re a fucking piece of work!” you growl, your chest heaving as the anger turns to adrenaline.

He moves closer. 

“Could say the same of you, sweetheart. Some of the shit you pull out there, christ, you need to loosen up.”

You lose it and lunge, grabbing him by the neck and slamming him against the wall, your knife pressed against his throat as you pin him there. 

He chuckles despite his precarious position, but he had you right where he wanted you now. “Just proved my point, baby. You’re wound up far too tight.” The side of his mouth pulls up in a smirk. “You even gettin’ any?”

You bare your teeth as you push the edge of the blade just a hair’s width further against the skin of his neck, a sliver of a red line blooming. 

“Shut. Up." you hiss.

Fuck, he might be right though. You’d been on edge for so long. So many fights ending with your hormones pumped up through the roof from the danger and excitement of it, no way to come down and let loose. Your own hand could only do so much.

You hated that he could read you so easily.

“Mm. That’s what I thought.” He presses his thigh forward between your legs and you can’t stop the small noise you let out when you feel it thick and hard against your core.

“Fuck you!” you spat, but you couldn’t move. You found yourself frozen, heart hammering fast and furious as Frank’s deep brown eyes roamed over you, like they were stripping you bare. The pressure of his leg was making you wet.

“I’d love to.” he says, voice dropping low as he pushes away your knife arm easily.

The blade clatters to the floor and your hands fly to his face, grabbing him as you smash your mouth against his. He grunts as you kiss with exactly the same violence as you fight, his hand cupping the back of your head and the other pulling you closer by the small of your back to grind against his leg. You pull and tug at his hair making him grunt hard and he turns you both around, slamming your back against the wall making you moan in return as he attacks your neck with his lips and teeth. 

You claw at his shirt like an animal, pulling it up and over his disgustingly ripped abs and he helps you, taking it all the way off and reaching for your t-shirt to do the same. 

His scruff scratches at your skin as he frantically makes his way south, kissing and licking every inch of you, his hands mapping out the curves of your body as he’s sucking the swell of your tits and working down to your pants. He wrenches them open after a quick glance up to check in and your nod tells him to keep going, ripping them off you along with your boots, chucking them across the floor and then homing in on where he’s been dreaming of being for the past few months.

When his mouth latches onto your pussy your legs turn to jelly. He holds you firm, hands at your ass digging in as he licks a slow, wet, stripe right up the middle of your core. You taste better than he could ever have imagined. He buries his face in you, breathing you in, determined in his mission to make you feel good.

“Frank.. Jesus-” you moan as his eyes flick up to meet yours and he works his tongue over you making you feel something you’ve not felt for years. He laps at your clit and you shiver, moaning again as he pulls you down on his face encouraging you to grind against it and take what you need. You didn't think it could get any better until you felt his hand sliding down between your thighs and his fingers teasing at your entrance. He looks up at you again and you're nodding, your mouth dropping open and your eyes closing as he slips two thick digits inside.

"Fuck…"

He’s moaning against your pussy as he fucks his fingers into you and swirls the tip of his tongue around your swollen clit. He crooks them, rubbing against that spongy spot and you almost collapse as your orgasm comes crashing over you like a tornado knocking you for six. 

"Where's your bedroom?" he asks gruffly, getting to his feet and lifting you up easily before you can second guess yourself. You point him in the rough direction as you wrap your legs around his thick waist and let him carry you in your lust-drunk post-orgasmic haze. He bursts through the door, throwing you down so he can strip off his pants, and you can’t contain the want in your expression seeing just how turned on he is from eating you out. He prowls onto the bed above you like a predatory beast caging you under him. 

“You gonna show me how it's done, Castle?” you jibe, slapping him across the face. He grins and grabs you roughly, hauling you over him as he rolls underneath you. 

“Nah. You’re runnin’ this show baby girl.” 

Your gaze runs over his body once more before you take his cock in your hand. He groans and you decide a little teasing might be fun, shimmying down so you can lick your way up his thick throbbing vein and watch as he crumbles at your touch. 

“Shiiit...” is all he can manage as you suck the head of him into your mouth, throwing his head back into the pillows as you swirl your tongue over his slit and taste him. 

“You don’t trust me with a gun in my hand but with my mouth around your cock it’s all good, huh?”

He moans as your teeth very gently scrape against the velvety skin. “Only ‘cos that mouth was fucking made to suck my cock.” he throws back at you. “Fuck!”

You hum around him, stroking his sac and seeing how his muscles twitch as your hand moves faster. He gasps as you suddenly stop and climb back up to straddle him. “You think you’ve got the moves out there, Frank,” you grin as you rub your soaking pussy over him and notch the tip of his cock at your opening. 

“Show me what I’ve been missing out on…”

He holds onto your hips and in one powerful thrust, buries his cock to the hilt. You both cry out at the sensation - you’re absolutely feral with the feeling of him filling you up, and Frank’s going insane at how soft and tight and wet you are around him. You move first, your nails digging into his broad pectorals and leaving little crescent welts as you rock your hips and start riding him. He feels so good but you’d never admit it, not yet anyway. He fucks like he fights, disarmed you so easily, and now he was taking you apart, stripping you down like you were one of his guns, methodical and precise but with a tenderness you'd never expected.

There's you thinking he's got this all in control but meanwhile, Frank is trying his best not to blow his load like a teenager. You’re a fucking goddess above him, the sight of you around him, riding him like a fucking rodeo bull with your beautiful tits bouncing and little desperate sounds he’s only ever heard in his imagination. Yeah, your temper might be all sparks but your body is a fucking blazing inferno in which he will happily burn to a crisp.

"Fuck, hit me again," he asks, and you throb internally at the grunt he makes when you slap him hard right across his face.

His fingers dig into your flesh and he starts pistoning his hips up knocking the breath and sense out of you. 

“Oh! Oh god damn Frank that feels so good… t-this doesn’t change anything-" you gasp out, "I still fucking hate you!”

He grunts through gritted teeth as his thumb glides over your clit and you clench around his cock. “The feeling’s -ngh fuck- mutual.”

"I hate you so much…so. fucking. much… shit, shit, don't stop!" your moans increase in both pitch and volume as you begin to crest and he's just looking up, completely awestruck at you. Frank.exe has just crashed. He skims his hand up your body, squeezing your breast, grazing your nipple, sliding up to wrap his huge hand around the base of your neck. Your head falls back as he gives you the slightest pressure and you're screaming his name as you come, taking him right along with you, hard, fast and so fucking intensely you both think you might black out.

When you collapse on him his arms slip around embracing you automatically. The closeness feels strange, but then in the instant in which he nuzzles your cheek and kisses you softly there, it doesn't. In the post-orgasmic clarity your conflicting emotions gradually mellow into something that just might be tentatively described as 'right'. 

Maybe you had overreacted… a bit. Maybe this was what you needed. Maybe this does change things… maybe you needed him?

"Can hear your mind workin'." He mumbles.

"Mmm." you reply.

"You forgiven me yet sweetheart?" 

"Don't push your luck, Castle."

He rolls you over beside him, looking at you with a glint in his eye. "We fightin' again? 'Cos I'll need about ten minutes…"

You huff and start kicking him out the bed with your feet but he sees the smirk on your lips and knows you're playing.

"Get out!"

"You really want me to leave, after that?"

"No, I wanna shower before round two."

"Oh… glutton for punishment, huh?" he laughs and follows you to the bathroom just like a puppy dog.

[dreamingkitsunewrites]

Letter to somebody I left behind,

It's been more than a year…a year since you entered my life…and now that I've ripped myself away from you I'm slowly coming back to my old self… 

But I remember the hailstorm and us talking under the shelter of a balcony, the smell of your smoke on my skin, the intricate patterns of your tattoos

 I still remember Escher, Goya and the starless sky, the way we both hoped the rain wouldn't ever end…

 I remember the late night calls, when you couldn't even breathe on the other side of the line,but we still talked about the ultimate essence of happiness and Geworfenheit;

I know everything about you and I wish I didn't let you so close to me: I was never there, but in my mind I held your inner child out of the wreckage of your household…I never met Jo, but I feel like I was there beside you when you tried to bring him around in that car…I wasn't there with you that night, but I took all of your pain on my shoulders…

 I still remember the fights, the way you used to yell at me I was nothing without you… just to text me to know if I came home safe when I turned my back to you…

 I remember Budapest, your sore knuckles when life became too much, the way you finally fell asleep to the tale of my routine…

Even if I don't want to, I will always know the words of the songs you wrote to me, and I will always keep the notes you wrote in the books we exchanged.

I've tried… God knows I've tried…I've tried loving you even when u shattered me to pieces…not once but twice. And still then, I loved you from afar, without anyone else noticing. 

Sacrificing myself and my dreams on a far away horizon, I decided not to leave. Not yet -I said to myself. People asked me why I decided not to leave all of a sudden…and I wanted to play it down, blaming my lack of bravery, while the only reason was you…

But all you wanted was keeping me close just to see me shatter again…just for you to put me together and tear me to pieces over and over again… 

I gave you my time, my thoughts, my energy, my prayers… every fiber of my being begged for your Salvation as I held my own breath at night.

Yet, the cruel game you played with me was not enough: you kept on damaging yourself on purpose just because you knew it was the simplest way to get under my skin, to make sure in the end I would come back to you begging for more. 

Until one day I found the bravery to let go.

I want to leave you behind but I won't ever let you go completely, because deep,down I know I failed… I'll always be reminded how I couldn't get you out of your misery… I couldn't win over the Demons in your mind… 

You told me I reminded you of your mother…and I want nothing more than being someone else…

Good luck on your next turn, I wish someone will finally be able to stitch what the others had ripped apart…

Sorry if I moved on,

           Yours, the one who got away.

What a strange thing life is... Barely nights ago I was writing this letter in my drafts after getting a 3am text by a person I never thought I would hear from again...I layed awake feeling miserable, not wanting to feel a thing... and yet, today I grab lunch with friends I haven't seen in a while and I fall for the idea of falling in love again... The news of young (maybe too young) wedding after an almost breakup, and a new start after grieving the one you loved hit me like a train...it all happened in matter if minutes... And then I understood: Love knows a lot of hiding places...but when the time is right it will always find its way back to you...and I'm willing to wait, no matter how much long it will take...

Needed to get this off my chest so bad...

[jmflowers]

I’ve never been huge Calzona shipper because it always seemed like Callie was apologizing and compromising while Arizona just expected that Callie would fall in line to whatever she wanted. Her perkiness hides a lot of flakiness and meanness, in my opinion. Plus all the biphobia (yes it’s a product of its time but it’s still pretty shitty like she’s your wife). I actually wanted Arizona to die instead of Mark plane but that didn’t happen weirdly the cheating breathed new life to dynamic for me, but a break right after where they found their way back and eventually moved would’ve been ideal. Not the slow rot that ended up being their relationship. Like for as much as their relationship was groundbreaking and impressively for the time, I also think a lot of things fell to the wayside and would’ve rather had seen Callie get with somebody else and have that same consideration instead of watching her constantly begging for Arizona to just like, get her and give her some grace.

I agree with so many of your points here!

Arizona has always brought a very commanding energy to any situation - partly because of how she was raised and partly because she was simply in an authority figure role from the moment she stepped on screen. She was learning to bend for others in her relationship with Callie, but she was never very good at it.

And as such, Callie did become small in her shadow. Even when Callie was doing incredible things in her field. She was a remarkable doctor, they made that much quite clear, but she’d been through so much already by the time Arizona arrived and Arizona never quite seemed to fully understand all of it.

Which isn’t entirely any one specific characters fault; communication is a two-way street. And the writers just don’t always have time for those frank discussions in a 43-minute ensemble show.

Their story was revolutionary at the time it was told, at least for me. I don’t know about you anon, but I’d grown up being forcefully closeted by my peers and hearing adults connote homosexuality with being a pedophile. Callie and Arizona’s story was the first time I saw queer women safe and happy (and openly out! and bisexual!) on screen and it changed my life for the better.

That biphobia though… yes. It was ingrained in the fandom as a result. It was something I, too, had to unpack and unlearn as a young queer because I hadn’t been shown any different.

The cheating, while trope and sort of antithetic to positive queer stories, did breathe new life into their story. And shook them up in a way that they desperately needed to become themselves without each other again. How fascinating it would’ve been to have had Callie navigating back to herself with Mark as a support! Thank you for putting that in my head.

[imbouttasue]

It's been a long while since I last talked about Remarried Empress, but anyway. I don't particularly agree that Ergi should be written instead as someone who hates Sovieshu and his said hatred slowly grows into an unhealthy, twisted obsession. Judging by how Alphatart has written him, I think the writer wanted to pull a "haha villain not" contradiction for his character but they keep on backpedalling. It comes to the point that the readers didn't take the bait and thus the author didn't explore his story further.

I'd break down the details of the story that subtly tells us about his character before elaborating, so the post won't be as messy. Beware of spoilers from the novel.

1. Baby breaths

Him holding baby breath flowers definitely struck me for a long time when I was first reading the story. It's a flower with a fragile meaning yet the writer made him hold it. It's included in the novel as well, so it's definitely an important detail. Or at least supposed to be.

2. Ergi's mother

His mother is sickly and thus he always cares for her. This is when Ergi’s warm side has been introduced and completely contradicts what his character is in the last seasons.

3. Heinrey

Their friendship is nothing more than a facade. He never called Heinrey by his name, only addressing him as "Your Majesty" or whichever his title is. While it's true that he calls him by his first name, he only does it in public. Whenever he talks to Heinrey personally, he insists on calling him by his title. It was proven further in the webtoon adaptation where they removed the part of Heinrey squishing Ergi’s cheeks on Navier’s pregnancy banquet when Ergi kept on frowning, which is supposed to be an indication that they are close friends.

4. Navier

It’s not included in the webtoon, but in the chapter where Ergi helps Navier escape from her house arrest in the East, Navier specifically says that "You have questionable methods, but you're a good person." There are also a few moments of them where Ergi shows vulnerability around her, talking about how people often cast you away despite all the good things you've done to them.

5. Guilt

Right after he ran away from the Eastern Empire when the paternity test was done, he was gloomy and kept on staring at the waters from his ship. The pirates have said along the lines of “He always falls into moods like these after he gets what he wants. He’ll go back to normal after he finds something new to be interested in.” It’s meant to be a representation of his guilt or a reflection of the things he had done. But he’s gone too far deep, so he won’t turn back.

6. Alessia

Ah, yes. Alessia. The root of his problems. The one who actually ruined his life but also the person he couldn’t bear to hurt because he firmly believes that she saved him; when in reality, it was a calculative move.

With those points laid out, I feel that Alphatart wanted to write him as a bastardous, but sensitive character. A man of contradiction. A villain with a heart, if that would make sense. While his morals are nothing but gray, there is a kindness beneath him that keeps on holding him back.

He wants to have his revenge, but he doesn’t want to harm the person (Alessia) who almost sacrificed her life (she didn’t, it’s all but a ploy) to save him. So instead of going after her, he exploits Sovieshu, who is secondly the person who only happens to be related to Alessia’s endeavors. And that’s it. No unnecessary feelings or obsession. He only uses Sovieshu as an outlet for his so-called revenge which is nothing but pointless. He knows it and he hates himself for it, but he doesn’t act on it. He doesn’t want to face it either.

In the end, his character is a coward. He would willingly hurt other people to scratch his itch for revenge but never the root of his pain. He preaches about morals when he couldn’t even fix his own. His character arc would be satisfying if he took on Alessia himself and made her run away, but instead he lets somebody else (Angel) expose her fraudulent acts in public. Why would he even hurt other women who happened to be like Alessia when he can just take on her and destroy her himself? His chance of being redeemed just gets thrown off the window. He never grew as a character and that is the only part I am disappointed in.

Saying that he’s obsessed with Sovieshu is too much of a stretch. And it’s just lazy writing to justify his actions. His actions on harming Sovieshu is nothing but pure cowardice. While he had executed his “revenge”, it will never give him comfort because of the other people he had harmed. He will live with guilt throughout his life.

His character doesn’t need much altering. I already like it as it is. Not too dark but he’s complex enough. It’s well enough on its own but only with very poor execution and inconsistency.