#I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of shit in the back room for three days straight and I said FUCK that

[strohller27]

.

#so I stayed late after work and completely reorganised the back room #my boss was like ‘you can just go through one box at a time and write down everything in it on a piece of paper!’ #but like. the boxes were full of a whole bunch of different sweaters in a whole bunch of different colours #and nothing was folded. and we didn’t know what sizes we had #and we DON’T HAVE A FUCKING INVENTORY and it is driving me absolutely positively CRACKERS #so I put on some loud music and organised all the sweaters in the back room by brand style and colour #i basically went autism beast all over that damn back room #and I even got the down jackets out because they’re not on the stupid floor yet #because the back room was so full of shit before I got my little autistic paws all over it that we couldn’t even fucken MOVE in there #so now we can. and I hope my manager is happy with my work. #our boss could probably care less but she doesn’t realise how much she doesn’t deserve me #my coworker deserves me tho. she deserves the world. she should get everything she wants #anyways I had to rant about it. #I’ve been overwhelmed by the amount of shit in the back room for three days straight and I said FUCK that #and this was after a fucken weird day where there was this lady complaining about our pint glasses costing $25 #and I think she was trying to make me give her a deal on something because #she kept going back to the $$$$ shit and getting outraged at the prices #and after a few rounds of that she said jokingly ‘i might start spitting at you in a moment’ #and like. I know she was joking. but that pissed me the fuck off. do not joke that you’re gonna spit at me #if you do that you don’t get to buy anything you fucking asshole you get security called on you #anyways today was fucken bonkers how was your day?

[joelsdagger]

talking body | joel miller x f!reader

read on ao3 | tlou is created by a zionist and tlou2 is based on the Israeli occupation on Palestine, pls visit these links to help. i urge other joel/tlou fanfic writers to do the same & add these resources to your posts to educate yourself or others who may still be unaware of this info.

pairing: joel miller x curvy f!reader

rating: 18+ MDNI

word count: 7.5k (dear god)

summary:  joel doesn’t hesitate to show you just how crazy he is about you. content warnings: jackson era, canon divergent, established relationship, unspecified age gap, (joel is late 50’s/pushing 60 & reader is whatever age you like her to be), fatphobic/misogynistic comments from a male oc, mentions of body insecurities, a little bit of jealousy (from reader), [internal] angst (feelings of guilt & shame), reader wears a form–fitting dress, joel gets handsy, body worship, pet names (sweetheart, darlin’, baby, pretty girl), brief vaginal fingering, biting, body marking, praise kink, sprinkle of degradation, 1 pussy slap, dirty talk (or as kat put it; joel miller and that FUCKING MOUTH), oral sex (f receiving), mild ass play, unprotected piv, rough sex, spanking, multiple orgasms, possessive!joel, pussy pronouns, creampie, fluff, joel just being such a sweetheart but also an absolute menace UGH, game!joel or show!joel, reader is curvy and can be interpreted as being mid/plus sized, but other than that no other physical descriptions of reader and no use of y/n.

a/n:  this is completely self indulgent and i love doing shit out of spite so naturally i wrote this cuz of all the shit i’ve been seeing these past few weeks. also, this is me pushing the agenda that game!joel is a hips guy and show!joel is an ass guy, so i mixed a little bit of both in here bc i can. to everyone with thick thighs, squishy bellies, big tits, hip dips, and every thing in between i see you, i love you (so does joel), and he would fuck your brains out, he told me himself :3  thank you to my loves @skrunkly-scrimblo & @phoeberidgers for being my second and third eyes & helping my indecisive ass with the visuals (and for always putting up with me) ily both sm <3 | dividers by @saradika-graphics

oh! masterlist is coming in a few days (i’m sorry, i’ve been putting it off)

Joel’s still sitting at the table with Tommy and Maria when Dina cuts into your path as you approach the bar, you were getting refills for your table. Dina drags you along behind her to the open space where a few other Jackson residents are dancing, she points out that you still haven’t delivered on your promise to dance with her. You playfully roll your eyes as she tugs you along, you don’t really mind, you’re the type to drink and dance the night away whenever you and Joel joined your fellow Jackson residents at The Tipsy Bison, letting out all the stress and worries that had built up from days prior and tonight was one of those nights, you endured a long, shitty, fucking week. 

One dance had turned into two which turned into three and very quickly you felt the overwhelming sense of heat from the lights and the alcohol running through your system warming up your body an ungodly amount. It didn’t help that the short, tight dress you were wearing was beginning to ride up your thighs and the thin fabric on your stomach clinging to your sticky skin as sweat started to pool in places you didn’t quite like. 

You take advantage of the song coming to an end and spin out of the dance before someone ropes you back in, tugging the hemline of your dress down while you make your way to the bar to finally order refills for your table.  As you wait for the bartender to come out from the back, you turn around to watch the rest of Jackson’s residents while they drink, dance, and laugh through the night, a smile tugs on your lips as you briefly spot Dina now dragging Ellie to the small open space. You continue glancing over the room, it was busier than usual though still expected, gatherings during the fall and winter months tended to occur more often, the cold weather gives people a reason to spend more time indoors, alcohol and loud music helps keep bodies warm and memories faded away. Nights like these are needed in Jackson. 

Your gaze eventually lands on your table, seeing a tall, beautiful, dark-haired woman standing in front of Joel, you know exactly who it is…Esther. You’re not surprised, she’s been after Joel for years, completely disregarding your relationship with him. You don’t blame her, Joel’s one hell of a man but you can’t help but feel a pit in your stomach when you see a smile on his face as he cracks a laugh at her joke, she playfully smacks his arm in return and you avert your eyes to scan the crowd once again. 

You know he doesn’t mean anything by it, Joel’s a gentleman, always polite and charming, he plays along as to not embarrass her. 

 So why does it bother you? 

You feel stupid, again you can’t blame her, but then your eyes trail down her body, she’s got a few years on you but she doesn’t look it. From what you can tell, her body has remained the same since the day you met her. 

Yours, on the other hand, has slightly changed to a noticeable degree, as you settled into Jackson as well as your relationship with Joel. Your breasts spill over the cups of a few older bras, you have a softer tummy that protrudes out in form–fitting clothes like right now and your thighs and ass fill your jeans out a bit more. It’s a dull feeling now, not really paying it any mind anymore, you were more aware of it at first, but occasionally, moments like this remind you of the changes in your body. 

His body has deliciously changed with age; his hair now suitably silver, though the gray patches of hair spanning across his chest and down his belly don’t quite match the hair on his scalp.  When he lifts his arms just enough his soft belly peeks out, perfectly protruding just above the waistband of his jeans. He’s insecure about it, his age more apparent when you’re beside him, not that he’d ever really admit that to you, but you picked up on it pretty quickly when he started opting for loose fitting button downs and jeans, but he clearly still has an effect on women. 

With you it’s just….different. 

Feeling the heat of a stare on you and knowing who it’s from, you glance back at Joel, your gaze landing on his face again, you can see his face more clearly now, Esther’s still talking to him, yet his attention isn’t on her, his eyes are trained on you and you’re met with an expression of hunger on his face. His eyes steadily rake down your body, feasting on the tight material clinging to your sticky skin, they pause and for a fleeting moment he fixates on your exposed thighs, his eyes trail back up to your chest, and as he lifts up the glass of whiskey he’s been nursing to his mouth, you catch his tongue poke out to lick his bottom lip, his eyes never leaving yours as he takes a long sip of his whiskey. 

The faint buzz from the alcohol emboldens you and you wink back at him. 

No longer giving those feelings a second thought you turn back around and try to wave down the bartender. 

“Another round, please.” 

“Sure thing, sweets.”

He turns away to grab your drinks, your ears perk up when you hear someone say your name, you turn your head towards the voice, noticing a few men sitting at the edge of the bar. You recognize one of them, a younger man, who happened to be your old patrol partner and your last fling.

Naturally, you eavesdrop on their conversation. Matt’s back is to you when you hear it. 

“She’s not in her prime, you should’ve seen her a few years ago,” he sneers.

His words pierce through you, you know exactly what he’s getting at, it stings even when you know it shouldn’t, it festers.

A man you’re not familiar with, probably the newbie, stands further away, he opens his mouth to speak but you can’t hear what he’s saying, the music is too loud and you have to fight the urge to look directly at him so you can read his lips, but he says something that earns a few snickers out of the men surrounding him. 

The shame coils and pulls taut in your stomach, twisting, pulling, scraping so tight it makes you dizzy and nauseous.

You don’t even realize your drinks had been placed on the bartop in front of you, Matt’s irritating voice cuts in and holds your attention, “Can’t believe a man like Joel is still with her. No real man can fuck women who look like that and enjoy it,” he says simply. 

The shame turns to rage and your blood boils, you feel your cheeks heating up as anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, the blinding rage looms over you and your feet move without thinking. You begin to step forward but for the second time that night your movements are interrupted, you hear her voice before she’s in front of you. 

“You ditched us to grab drinks and yet we never got them,” Maria teases.

“Sorry, I got carried away,” you look away from the group of men and back at Maria, flashing her a smile, a little forced.  

“Figured. Joel’s been eyeing you while you were dancing, I told him to join you but we both know he prefers admiring you,” she says, redrawing your attention by tilting her head into your line of sight.  

She beckons you with a jerk of her head, “C’mon, your man gets grumpy when you’re away,” she says with a comforting smile. As the two of you grab the whiskey filled glasses, she hooks her arm through yours and walks you back to the table. 

Joel pulls open your chair next to him, you sit down and silently hand him his whiskey, the anger fizzling out as soon as you’re beside him though the knot of shame still tight in the pit of your stomach. He senses something is off immediately, your behavior wildly different than twenty or so minutes before. 

“Thanks, baby,” he says as he watches you intently. 

“Mhm.”

You nod, shooting him a glance before averting your eyes back to a small group of residents dancing. 

Tommy turns his head to ask Maria about the new patrol schedules for the upcoming week, Joel sees it as a window of opportunity, a distraction, so he throws his arm around you and tucks you into his side, just enough for you to smell the whiskey on him, he settles his palm on your stomach, his thumb starts rubbing small circles on your belly through your tight dress, “You okay, darlin’?” he whispers, his whiskey–warm breath against your ear.

“Yup. Just tired,” you say dismissively, trying to keep your voice light, hoping it doesn’t sound as pinched as your throat feels. You press a chaste kiss to the flecks of silver on his temple, attempting to sooth his worries, while internally trying to convince yourself that you’re not giving those assholes too much power over their words, even though you have, it gnaws at you so much it makes your bones itch beneath your skin. 

He catches the deceit in your voice but he drops the subject, knowing not to pry in this moment, “Alright, we'll finish these and head home,” he kisses your forehead before he turns his attention back towards the conversation. 

—

Joel kept on his word, the two of you leaving the gathering once you knocked back the rest of your drinks. However, finishing off your drinks meant the two of you were in a tipsy state and Joel’s insatiable when he’s got alcohol buzzing in his system. As soon as he closes the bedroom door behind him, he instantly pins you up against the door and presses his lips to yours, his mouth swallowing yours while his hands run greedily all over your body, grabbing and squeezing every part of you.

“God, you’re fuckin’ beautiful,” he says while he nuzzles his head in the deep groove of your cleavage, he nips lightly before leaving open–mouthed kisses to the exposed skin, his big hands come up to cup your breasts, your nipples peaked and hard beneath the thin fabrics of your dress and your bra.

“Fuck–” your whimper is cut off when Joel drags his lips back up to connect with yours, you hum as you taste his flavour, all oak and masculine and campfire like with a hint of spice from the whiskey.  He moans as he licks his tongue into your mouth, one hand squeezes the weight of your breast while the other glides around to your back, pulling you closer. Joel always gets like this after a few drinks; it’s always heady, needy, sloppy like it is now. He kisses you with so much want and desire it makes your brain all foggy and your skin flare, forgetting the moment that threw off your mood.

That is until Joel’s hands make their way down your front, palming your tummy softly, one hand reaches under the hem of your short dress to cup your mound and the memory claws its way back to the surface, Matt’s words echo in your mind. 

You tear your lips away from his and plaster on a tight smile, knowing your eyes will give you away, you stare at the scar across his nose, “Not tonight, baby,” you whisper, pressing a swift kiss to his cheek and tucking a silver curl behind his ear. 

Though Joel Miller, as always, is on high alert, always studying the people around him, it’s all he’s ever known in his role of a protector. He learnt and memorized all your tells within weeks of knowing you, he doesn’t need to see your eyes to catch on, he senses the hint of sadness in the hushed tone of your voice, the same one he clocked earlier at The Tipsy Bison, he knows you’re holding back. 

“Alright, sweetheart, what’s on your mind?”

You brush past him, walking away and sitting on the bed, “Nothing, I’m fine, I’m just tired,” you say a little too hurriedly, your voice too syrupy-sweet. That’s the third thing that’s tipped him off tonight. He follows you tentatively, sitting beside you placing his hands on your knees and guiding you to face him. 

He assesses your face and sighs, “We’re not gonna do that. You’ve been real quiet and distant most of the night. Darlin’, talk to me,” he hooks a finger underneath your chin and gently tilts your face upwards, forcing you to look at him. 

You shrug heavily, feeling stupid for letting their words sour your mood, but worse for thinking the same about yourself, when you should be grateful. Living, breathing, existing is a privilege, one that not everyone gets, something you and Joel are too familiar with, yet here you are letting dumb comments from even dumber men upset you. The same knot in your stomach from earlier pulls taut once again.

You rip your eyes away from Joel’s, not able to bring yourself to face the troubled look in his eyes. “It's just embarrassing, and I’m ashamed that I let things still get to me,” you admit defeatedly, your voice barely audible. 

“Baby,” he tugs gently on your chin again, “Look at me,” he murmured. 

You blink up at him, forcing yourself to look at him, tears pricking in your eyes when you see the worry line appearing in between his brows and the hues of concern in his eyes once again. He reaches up to gently cradle your face, the contact sends you over the edge and a tear cascades down your cheek, his calloused thumb swipes it away, the turmoil clear as day in his eyes, you hate that you’re the reason for the pained expression on his face. 

“Tell me,” he implored, his voice pinched as he spoke. 

You can feel the walls of your throat constricting and the rapid thump of your pulse right below your jaw as you swallow tightly. Just hearing the hurt in his voice should stop you, should make you drop the whole thing. You think about leaving Matt’s name out of it, just by mentioning that Matt was the one reaffirming your deep-seated insecurities will upset him alone, Joel’s hated the guy since the day he found out you fucked him but leaving his name out of it feels like you're protecting him. 

That coupled with the look of worry on his face, knowing his compulsive need to do right by you but he can’t if you don’t let him, coaxes you to tell him everything.  

Biting the bullet and bracing yourself for impact, you take a deep breath.  

“You know that guy, Matt, that I used to….” you trail off quietly, biting your lip.

His lips downturn into a soft frown and yet he doesn’t respond, just gives you a firm nod. 

You avoid his gaze, picking at the loose skin around your nail, Joel notices and grabs your hands in his. Your eyes stay transfixed on your lap, you sigh deeply, “He said, a man like you shouldn’t be with someone like me, said he doesn’t know how you can fuck me and enjoy it,” another tear spills down your cheek, recounting each of his words feels like hard punches to the gut.  “And then seeing Esther hitting on you again, even though everyone knows we’re together–I know I shouldn’t let it get to me but I can’t help how I feel sometimes,” your voice quavering as you ramble admittedly.

You peer up at him under watery lashes and for a second you can practically see him fighting the urge of storming out of the house and heading back to The Tipsy Bison to find the bastard, you can see it in the flash of anger that spreads across his features, in the twitch of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils as he takes in a sharp breath.   

Instead, he exhales, “Darlin’, there ain’t nothing wrong with you,” he dips his head down so his eyes meet yours, you shrug again. 

“Stop that. You’re perfect honey,” you can hear the sincerity in his voice as he runs his hand along your upper thighs, now exposed as your dress rolled up from your position on the bed.

“I get it darlin’, hell one good look in the mirror n’ I wonder how a pretty thing like yourself could want an old man like me,” he huffs a quiet chuckle. 

You shake your head immediately, “Joel–”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay if you need remindin’,” he interjects you, “I have no problem remindin’ you,” he asserts softly, his fingers still tracing up and down your thigh. 

You frown, “I know you don’t Joel, it’s just,” you sigh a shuddering breath, feeling that familiar pang of guilt in your chest, now regretting opening up to him. The heavy stones of guilt and shame weighing you down, threatening to swallow you whole. The last thing he needed was you burdening him with your insecurities, you know him, he’ll dwell on this for days to come, checking in when he feels you pulling away.

“Lemme show you, baby,” he says while softly grabbing your hands, prying them away from your middle. 

“No, Joel–” you began to protest. 

“Need to see my beautiful girl,” he encourages you gently, his hands roam down and pause right below the hem of your dress but he awaits your permission. 

You nod softly and lie back against the headboard, you watch his face as he carefully and slowly grabs at the skirt of your dress, shoving up the soft, red material over your waist, revealing your soft, pillowy silhouette.

He hovers over you as he takes his time palming the slopes of your curves, his big hands grab two handfuls of your breasts and squeezes them tightly, lifting the weight of them up and dropping his head down to nip at each breast, then letting them fall and marveling at the bounce of your tits. His hands find your hips, he’s sliding down the bed, just enough so his head is level with your middle, he dips his head down and presses his lips to the soft flesh, his teeth sink into your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, you involuntarily let out a soft moan. 

He grips your hips more firmly, almost like you’ll disappear before him if he doesn’t, he moves his lips to your other hip and nips at your skin, “My sexy girl, fuckin’ can’t get enough of you,” he says lowly, his breath hot against your skin, you whimper softly as both of your hands find the nape of his neck. His mouth moves to the soft swell of your tummy and he nips at the supple skin right above your belly button, the coarse scruff tickles your skin and you can’t help the giggle it elicits from you. 

He pulls away and peers up at you, eyes dark and full of lust, his mouth hovers over yours, “You drive me crazy, you know that, baby?” He whispers fervently against your lips, his fingers squeezing the meat of your thighs.  

Your glassy eyes meet his as your hand comes up to cup his cheek, “I’m pretty crazy about you too, handsome,” you whisper, his cheeks flush pink at your words, still so bashful. He kisses the heel of your palm before patting the side of your thigh, “Turn around for me sweetheart, go on, all fours, need to see all of you,” he smirks, his eyes full of intensity as they drag down your body. 

You do as he asks and move to the middle of the bed, flipping onto your knees and walking your hands out in front of you, arching your back slightly and hiking your up ass in front of him, he moans at the sight. “Good girl,” he praises softly behind you and your pussy throbs, a familiar sticky heat pools in your panties at his words. You playfully take a glance back at him, his eyes dark and half-lidded as he sits up and moves to his knees behind you, his hands run up the backs of your thighs all the way up until they meet the globe of your ass and he whistles lowly. 

“Look at you, so fuckin’ perfect,” he murmurs, oggling the curve of your ass as his index finger sneaks under the lace trim of your panties, taking the material between his forefinger and his thumb and lightly skimming his fingers down the lace, “N’all for me.” 

His fingers roam down to your covered slit and you let out a soft gasp, which only spurs him on, he runs his fingers along the wet spot on your panties, smirking when he feels the wetness staining your panties, the tips of his fingers dip below your clothed slit,  “There's my girl. Always so fuckin’ wet for me, huh?” You hum softly in response. 

The tip of his middle finger pushes past your outer lips and you bite down on your bottom lip, trying to suppress the whimper you let out. You’re already so wet, you’re always so wet and willing for him. It should embarrass you, how easy you are for him but it doesn't because it’s him and knowing how much he revels in this, in you makes that small pinch of embarrassment fade away instantly…every single time.  

You risk a look at him over your shoulder as he pulls his finger back out and in one swift movement he puts his finger between his lips, quickly sucking your arousal off his finger, like it’s a mindless, habitual thing for him, like he’s sneaking a taste of his meal before he digs into it. His hands reach for the waistband sitting on your hips, pulling the lacy fabric down, marveling at the dark fabric against your skin as he slowly drags the material down your thighs, his eyes catch the opaque wetness soaking the lace while he pulls them down and he moans shamelessly. 

Your eyes widen while you watch him bunch up the material and shove the lace in his back pocket and then his hand lands an affectionate smack to your ass, “Eyes forward, sweetheart.” You tear your eyes away as he brings a firm hand to the small of your back, pressing you down and deepening the arch to his liking, you instinctively drop to your forearms– so pliant and needy for him–he brings his mouth down and sinks his teeth into the lush of your ass in approval.  

His hands grab your inner thighs, spreading your legs, now he has full sight of your glistening core, two thick fingers stroke through your folds, “Look at that, she’s so pretty baby. She’s droolin’ down your pretty legs,” his voice low and deep. 

His words make your pussy throb, you can’t help the whine you let out, “Joel, please.” 

“Please what, pretty girl, use your words,” he commands, his fingers still languidly messaging through your puffy lips, smearing your arousal all over his fingers.   

“I need you, please do anything, please,” you mewl, not caring how pathetic you sound. 

But still, not enough for Joel. A loud wet smack fills the room as he lays a firm slap to your cunt, your body flinches forward, the edges of your vision blurs and your aching, swollen cunt tingles and clenches at the harsh, yet welcomed contact.

He tuts, “You want my cock that bad, baby, I wanna hear you say it.” 

Bastard. 

“Joel please, I want your cock. I want it,” you whine and writhe beneath his firm palm.

“Okay, alright, baby, s’all I wanted to hear,” he cooes, his slick-coated fingers now soothing your folds. “I just need to taste her first,” he shifts behind you, sliding down off the bed, his knees creaking as he kneels on the floor, he pulls you back towards the edge of the bed by your thighs. He tilts his head up just enough to dig his teeth into the meat of your upper thigh, just below the curve of your ass cheek and soothes the sting with a wet kiss. 

You shiver, you’re aching for him and his mouth is everywhere except for where you need him to be. 

Joel’s hands come up to grab the meat of your ass, spreading you open and gently pushing you forward for better access, he brings his mouth to hungrily kiss your inner thighs, tasting the sweet, sticky slick coating your skin and a pitiful moan slips from your lips. 

Joel seems to have heard it and that’s all it takes for his lips to make contact with your pussy, your breath hitches in your throat as he flattens his tongue and licks a long, slow swipe through your slicked folds, the first one always drawn out and meticulous and just for him. 

You push your hips back into his face causing the tip of his nose to nuzzle into your asshole, you feel him hum in approval at your entrance. Suddenly, nothing else matters; the thick fog of insecurity, the crippling shame and guilt sitting heavy in your chest; it all melts away as a fresh wave of sensation courses through you by the warmth of his mouth on your cunt. 

This was always his favorite part, seeking pleasure in you because it brings you pleasure, always doing what makes you feel good. To spread you open before him, having a perfect view of your alluring holes in front of him, just begging for him to devour away (and fill you up). He can spend hours on his knees between your legs and he has, slipping further and further elsewhere as he indulges in you, his lips relishing away at the altar in your hips.  

A pressure already begins to pull taut low in your belly, you’re squirming in his grasp but his hands move to firmly grip your outer thighs, keeping you open for him and pressed flush against his eager mouth. He doesn’t go easy on you like he usually does. He fucking laves at you, devouring and savouring you like he’d never get the chance again. The vibrations from occasional muffled moans and groans against your pussy make you chant his name over and over like a prayer, even though he’s the one on his knees.

You can feel him push his tongue into your hole, fucking you with it, then he moves to swirl the tip of his tongue tightly against your puffy clit, “Oh god, Joel, fuck,” you moan out, your eyes roll back into your head as the coil inside your belly wounds up so tight every muscle in your body tenses. You start grinding your hips back into his face, he groans in response and loosens his grip on your legs, letting you take what you need from him. 

He flattens his tongue against your clit before he closes his lips around it, suckling it into his mouth and moaning around it, the vibrations from his mouth makes the coil in your belly snap, and you cry out, using the sheets beneath you to stifle the noises slipping through your lips.

With his mouth still latched onto your throbbing cunt, he keeps going. 

“Fuck, Joel, I can’t–” it’s too much and you’re too weak, a trembling mess on the mattress, so you attempt to close your legs but the strong grip he has on your thighs doesn’t allow you to move, it only goads him further. 

He licks a thick, languid stripe through your heat all the way up until his tongue prods at the tight ring of muscle, again, your legs threaten to close but the firm grip of his hands keeps you wide open for him, he swirls his tongue in a tight circle around your puckered rim, “Joel–” your gasp is cut off by his white, hot mouth taking its place right back on your clit, not giving you any time to recover.

The tip of his tongue works small, tight circles on your clit around and around, only this time with more pressure than before and within minutes or seconds–you don’t really know at this point–you feel the pressure building in your belly and it’s growing stronger by every lick and suck from his mouth. His tongue flicks over your clit before he licks it into his mouth once more, closing his lips tightly, he gives it one last tight circle of his tongue and suckle to your clit and you break, your second orgasm crashes over you.

A choked moan escapes you, your legs quiver as they threaten to close while your hands fist the sheets beside your head, the grip he has on your thighs holds you open for him while you come all over his mouth and he laps you up, savoring, slurping, and swallowing down everything you give him. 

Milliseconds pass and he shifts behind you, lost in the haze of your orgasm, you can faintly hear the popping of his knees coupled with a grunt behind you as he stands up. He leans forward, kneading your ass in his palms before bending down to lay another bite on your other cheek, this time with more fervor, leaving a mark, your skin tingles.   

Joel positions himself right against your ass and places his hands on your hips again and squeezes, “I love all of ya, baby, but this right here,” he grips more firmly at the flesh on your hips again, “Fuck– these kill me,” he mumbles, almost entirely to himself. 

“Joel, please, I need you inside me,” you beg and shiver in his grasp. 

He stays quiet behind you, too enticed by the sight of your weeping pussy in front of him. You think you can hear the metallic clink of his belt as it drops to the floor and the buzz of the zipper of his jeans coming undone, the sounds make you clench around emptiness, Joel catches sight of it, a lustful groan slips out of him, a guttural sound from deep within his chest. You’re always so needy, so eager to be full of him and he’ll never get enough of it. 

He keeps one hand on your ass, the other wrapped around his cock as he swipes it once through your folds, wetting his dick with your arousal, earning a quiet whimper from you at the sudden contact. He draws his hips back slightly and finally notches the wide head of his cock into with your awaiting hole, groaning in unison as his tip stretches you open, “Christ, always so fuckin’ tight,” spitting through his teeth.

His other hand moves to your hip to hold you in place as he sinks into you with one languid, long thrust, sliding himself in as deep as he can, he feels his tip hit resistance and his breath hitches in his throat, he stills for a moment, enthralled at the sight of his cock nestled in at the very end of you, completely bottomed out in your dripping cunt, “Fuck–there you go, pussy’s suckin’ me right in, sweetheart. This perfect fuckin’ pussy,” he grits as the grip he has on your hips tightens, his fingertips digging into the soft tenderness of your hips. 

One of his hands sneaks its way to your front and he grabs your breast beneath the neckline of your dress, he kneads it and pinches your nipple between his calloused fingers, then he pulls the neckline down along with your bra, freeing your breasts from the constricting cups, he palms them roughly before leaving them to sway, all bare and heavy, “Look so goddamn perfect bent over for me like this, I wanted to fuck you in this slutty dress all night, fuckin’ couldn’t get it outta my head,” he pants heavily, his hand returns to grip your hip as he begins rocking his hips forward, “Drivin’ me fuckin’ crazy, baby.” 

You curse lowly as you shift to deepen the arch in your back–you need to feel him closer–you straighten your arms out in front of you, your hands latch on to the edge of the mattress, your chest now pressed to your thighs and hiking your ass higher in the air for him, changing the angle as your body folds in on itself and earning a low groan from Joel, a sound that rumbles deep in his throat, “Sweet Jesus, that’s good, just like that baby, always so good f’me,” he’s babbling under his breath. The palm of his other hand finds the small of your back, “Tell me how it feels,” Joel grits, his voice thick and breathy as his thrusts pick up the pace.

“F–feels so good, Joel,” you sob, and it’s true, every time feels like the first time even after all these years; he had bent you over, pressed his large hand between your shoulder blades, kicked apart your legs with his knees and when his hand found the base of your neck, he pressed your face into the wooden floorboards and stretched you open, fucking you with ruthless abandon, using your body to get himself off, dulling the agonizing memories and unspeakable horrors that had forced his hand. His unforgiving pace, your face scraping along the hardwood floor, his brutal thrusts that kept your cunt sore for days on end, none of that mattered to you, in a way you were using him too, your insides just desperate and aching to be filled and all you could do was take it, your body completely succumbing to him and accepting his girth, ‘s like you were made for me, his breath hot and heavy as the words buzzed in the shell of your ear. 

His deep voice breaks through the loop of ecstasy, redrawing your attention to the moment, “Takin’ my cock so well, this pussy’s so fuckin’ good, she’s so good to me,” he grits, both of his hands now keeping a bruising grip on your hips as he drives your hips back to meet his, pulling you back onto his cock, the slapping of his hips against the plush of your ass echoes loudly in the room. You press your face into the sheets as your moans grow louder while he drives his cock in and out of you, “Those men…’f they had a woman like you…fuck–they don’t deserve that,”  Joel rambles gruffly in between his harsh, unrelenting thrusts, “We’ll show ‘em how a real man fucks his girl, I’ll fuckin’ show ‘em, I’ll show ‘em.” 

Oh god. Sparks ignite a fire that roils low in your belly, you’ll never get used to how talkative he is while he loses himself in you.

“Oh–fuck, Joel, don’t stop, don’t stop,” your words come out choked, the flow of air to your lungs suspended as he punches himself into you, your fingers dig into the mattress in attempt to anchor yourself.  

“I know, baby, I know, just take it,” he hisses through his teeth. “This tight pussy only made to take my cock, ain’t that right?” 

His words are swallowed up by the obscene squelches of your cunt as it grips his cock while he slams into you. When he doesn’t get a response from you he lands a firm slap to your ass, this time with more force, your skin tingles beneath his hand, “Yes, Joel—fuck—yes–yes,” you moan breathlessly, completely lost in a dizzying haze of pleasure. 

“‘S’right, she’s mine, all fuckin’ mine,” Joel snarls, his thrusts grow more aggressive, you fist the sheets beneath you–the possessiveness in his words, the firm grip on your hips pulling you back to fuck you onto his cock–slowly, you can feel the fire in your belly making its way to curl around the base of your spine.

He tightens his grip on your hips once again, you can feel his fingernails digging into your soft skin, you crane your neck to peer behind you, spotting the small indents beneath his fingertips forming on your hips, leaving more evidence of himself on your body. You know they’ll be there in the morning. A low, breathy moan slips between your lips at the thought. Your hooded eyes flicker up to his face, he looks wrecked; his gray curls cling to his forehead as a sheen of sweat covers his skin, his cheeks flushed a shade of cherry red that extends down to his neck and tanned chest, his pupils are blown out so wide they’re almost black, locked in on his length going in and out of your drippy cunt. His eyes flicker up to watch the ripple of your ass as he pummels his cock into you and it drives him over the edge. 

You didn’t think he could get more relentless, yet somehow he does. 

He releases the firm grip he has on your hips and slides his hands to your ass cheeks, he glides his hands over the curve of your ass and again, he brings one palm down in a harsh slap, you make a muffled sound against the sheets. His fingers span over the globe of your ass, palming your ass cheeks and grabbing them tightly, squeezing the tender flesh, he groans loudly as he pulls them apart further, splitting you open even more for him, fucking you deeper, all you can do is whimper into the mattress. 

“Goddamn, you’re perfect, so fuckin’ perfect,” he rasps, his chest heaves as ragged, throaty moans escape him. Unable to stop himself, he squeezes down on your ass cheeks with more vigor as he unravels and pounds into you relentlessly, his thrusts brutal against you and the tip of his cock now punching your cervix. 

You clench around him, a sign that you're close, and he reaches around your front, he presses his fingers into your very sensitive, very swollen clit and starts rubbing tight circles over the bundle of nerves, bringing you to the edge of your release. 

The lick of heat sneaks its way up your spine, dispersing itself along your nerves, setting your skin on fire, “Shit, Joel, m’gonna come,” you gasp, your voice all cracked and your breath ragged, unable to breathe as your lungs search desperately for respite, a low static buzz begins to ring in your ears. 

Somewhere distant in the endless loop of euphoric haze you hear his voice, deep and rough, “Come for me, need to feel this slutty pussy come on my cock.” A high-pitched moan spills from your lips, your eyes slip closed as your walls flutter and gush around him, your clit sore and throbbing beneath his fingers, your body convulsing in aftershocks as your orgasm erupts and smothers you entirely.

“There you go, attagirl, my perfect girl, comin’ all over my cock,” he talks you through the trance of your pleasure. Your pussy clenches down around his length again, bringing him to his own release and he pants, “Baby, need you to turn over—shit, m’gonna–” 

In an attempt to bring yourself up on your shaky arms, you push your hips back into his, Joel hisses through his teeth in response. His hands fly to your hips, steadying himself–shitshitshit–he loses his rhythm as his own orgasm rips right through him, his thick cock pulsing and spasming inside your messy, used cunt, his frame shuddering behind you as he spills inside you. You reach an arm back behind you, grasping onto a hand that’s glued to your hip, his fingers intertwine with yours without hesitation, desperately grounding himself as he groans painfully, long and drawn out while he fucks the last of his seed into the deepest parts of you, filling you to the brim. 

His entire form gives out, falling forward over you, pressing his entire weight into yours, the two of you collapse onto the bed, he drops his forehead, damp with sweat, to your back as his body goes limp over you. He exhales heavily, his warm breath against your skin sends shivers down your spine, he presses a tender kiss to the nape of your neck while his hands find your hips again, quivering as he pulls his sensitive cock out of your wasted pussy with a loud grunt, earning a lewd, wet sound once he completely pulls his length out.  

Joel sits up and leans back, his hands grab your legs keeping you spread open for him, he gawks at the flutter and clench of your leaking hole as his white milky spend drools out of you and he groans, “Oh fuck me, that’s a pretty sight right there, my girl’s fucked all full o’me.” 

“Shut up,” you huff a quiet laugh and shut your legs, he lays a playful slap to your ass, eliciting a tiny squeal from you. Joel stands up and strides off to the bathroom while you crawl up the bed, laying your head against the pillows, the sound of running water in the background as your eyes slip closed, sinking into the blissful haze of the afterglow.

You feel his presence returning, he wraps his hands around your knees and pulls apart your legs, spreading you wide once more and he freezes, “Fuck,” you hear him groan above you. You open your eyes, hazy and hooded, to find him standing between your legs with nothing on but a pair of loose fitting sleep pants, no underwear, a wet rag in hand, mesmerized by the slow flow of his cum dribbling out of your hole.   

He’s completely forgotten what the hell he’s supposed to be doing. 

“Do you need me to do it,” you tease with a small smile, a devious glint in your eyes as you look up at him. 

His eyes flicker back up to meet yours, “Keep bein’ smart with me n’ I’ll stuff that pretty mouth of yours,” he quips. 

You grin at him while he drags the damp cloth through your swollen sex. He taps the side of your arm lightly and you sit up, his hands grab at the material bunched around your waistline, as you lift your arms up in the air, he pulls the fabric over your head and your body shimmies its way out of it. His eyes never leave yours as his large hands reach around your back to unhook your bra, pulling the straps from your shoulders, leaving you bare as he scrunches up your clothes and the messy rag soaked in your combined releases and returns to the bathroom. You lie back down again and slip beneath the covers, the back of your head resting on one of his pillows.

Joel saunters back into the room, “Scoot,” he motions with his hand and you do, he slides in beside you and pulls the blankets up to cover your middle. As expected, he tugs you closer to him, tucking you into his side, you instantly hoist one of your legs over the top of his strong thighs, one of your hands rests over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heart beneath your hand.

As the thick haze fades, your lips part, your voice barely above a whisper, “Thank you,” your fingers gliding over the patch of gray hair spanning across his chest, following the trail down the soft swell of his belly while his fingers softly trace down the slope of your side, fingertips following the curve of your body beneath the blankets. 

He presses his lips to the top of your head and he whispers, “I’ll fuck you like that every night f’it means showin’ you how fuckin’ perfect you are.” 

Your lips twitch, a hint of a smirk on your face as you press your face into his chest and hum, “Just admit you’re a dirty old man, will you?” 

Joel laughs lightly but doesn’t deny it, he peers down at you with nothing but adoration and a genuine smile, “Never said I wasn’t, baby, n’ don’t act like you don’t love it.”

‘I do, and I love you,” you bring your hand up to scratch his gray beard before tilting your head up to his and press an open mouthed kiss to his lips, tasting the flavor of your pussy on his tongue, you hum into his mouth, all dazed and content. 

“I love you, honey,” his other hand drags gently along the crown of your head, his thumb resting on your cheek, stroking it as he brushes his nose along your cheek. You can feel his lips turn up into a smile against your skin, “Maybe, I need to get ourselves some rings, that oughta keep ‘em away.”

You smack him lightly on his chest, “You think you’re real funny don’t you?” 

He laughs, loud and deep, his perfect soft, pudgy belly jiggling beneath your knee, his fingers grazing down your back, “M’just sayin’, s’an option.” 

You chuckle. “Whatever you say, Miller.” 

thanks for reading xx

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x plus size reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou one shot #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #noelle's workshop #noelle does things out of spite! #tw: fatphobia

[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

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This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

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For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon��s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

#reached my word limit and couldn’t do all the characters >:( #honestly I hope this is good enough #it feels a bit off but I’m too exhausted to do anything else about it #obey me #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me imagines #obey me leviathan #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me HCs #om hcs #obey me! one master to rule them all #🌪 angst #💳 mammon supremacy #⭐️ requests

[multi-fandom-imagines-stuff]

Smaller Than This

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff/daughter!reader, Peter Parker/platonic!reader, Wanda Maximoff/reader

Description: The reader is Natasha Romanoff’s daughter, best friend of Peter Parker, and girlfriend of Wanda Maximoff. Growing up in the spotlight is hard enough, but things cross a line when people start commenting on the reader’s weight.

Warnings: eating disorder, swearing, threats of violence

Word count: 3,282

A/N: I know it’s not easy to deal with eating disorders, but please know that you are beautiful and amazing and you don’t deserve to have to suffer through that. Please, if you are struggling with this, reach out for help. <3

✩❀✩❀✩

Black Widow’s daughter spotted in Central Park with new best friend Scarlet Witch and Stark Industry intern Peter Parker! Could Parker be y/n’s new boyfriend?

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you clicked on the tweet. Stalking paparazzi twitter accounts had to be one of your favorite pastimes, simply because the so-called facts they were giving out were false 99% of the time. For instance, this situation? You had gone out for a picnic with Peter and Wanda when those photos were taken, and the paparazzi completely twisted things. Peter wasn’t your boyfriend, he was just your best friend. And Wanda wasn’t your best friend, she was your girlfriend. You chose to ignore the false headline as you went immediately for the replies.

‘Do you see the way y/n’s looking at Wanda? It seems more like there’s something going on between them than there is between y/n and Peter’

You smiled and liked that tweet. You liked messing with people just a bit. Whenever someone would tweet about there possibly being a relationship between you and Wanda, you liked the tweet. It wasn’t enough information to actually confirm the relationship as true, but it was enough to keep people speculating.

You scrolled through several more replies. Most of them were people using the heart eyes emoji or saying how much they loved your mom, but there were a few in there that stuck out more than the rest. That was because they were harsh and hurtful.

‘I don’t understand how someone can live with the Avengers and still look like that. Does she ever even exercise?’

‘She could stand to lose some weight. Instead of going out for a picnic, she should try to skip a few meals’

You read through replies for a few more minutes. Similar comments would pop up now and then, and while there wasn’t an overwhelming amount, there was still enough to make you close down the app and shut off your phone, averting all your attention toward not crying. 

“Miss y/n, dinner has been called,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang through your room.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of your mind, you got off your bed and made your way to the dining room. There, Peter and Wanda were setting the table while Steve and Bucky carried out the food.

You walked up behind your girlfriend and wrapped your arms around her waist, resting your chin on her shoulder. You felt her jump slightly before she realized it was you and relaxed into your touch. You placed a kiss on her cheek.

“I love you,” You whispered in her ear.

“Hey! What did we talk about?” Tony directed at you, raising an eyebrow at you and causing you to roll your eyes.

“No lovey-dovey shit at the dinner table,” You mumbled.

“Language!” Steve scolded you as Clint joined the conversation.

“Oh, come on, Tony,” He said. “It’s young love. It’s harmless and adorable.”

“It makes me want to hurl,” Tony retorted.

To onlookers, it may have sounded like Tony was being a real dick, but you knew he was just teasing you. He’d never admit it, but secretly he loved how happy you and Wanda made each other.

“Watch it, Stark,” Your mom shot him a glare. “That’s my kid you’re talking about.”

Your head whipped up at your mom’s voice. She had been on a mission for the past week and wasn’t supposed to get home for another three days.

“Mom!” You yelled as you ran toward her, wrapping your arms around her as you squeezed her tight.

“Hey, kiddo! I’ve missed you!” She said, hugging you back and kissing you lightly on the forehead.

“I’ve missed you, too!”

“As much as I hate to break up this reunion,” Bucky said, causing you to pull away from your mom. “Steve and I slaved over dinner and it’s getting cold, so let’s eat.”

You took your seat at the table—in between Peter and Wanda—and filled your plate with the spaghetti and garlic bread Steve and Bucky made. Everyone was silent as you all dug into your food and, you had to admit, it tasted amazing. 

When Steve and Bucky first moved in, neither of them were allowed near a stove without supervision. They had started too many accidental fires. But after lots and lots of practice, the two of them easily became the best cooks in the tower.

After dinner, you excused yourself to your room. Your phone was still lying face down on the bed, so you grabbed it and opened it up. Right away, you noticed several notifications from twitter. Upon further investigation, you found that the rude comments people were saying about you had extended to your messages. Now, you had complete strangers messaging you about how you needed to ‘lose weight’, or ‘eat less’, or ‘exercise more’. A few of the messages even called you a ‘disappointment to the Avengers’.

You deactivated your account and deleted the app from your phone, but the damage was already done and you knew it. So you came up with a plan and decided to set it into motion the next morning.

✩❀✩❀✩

You woke up in the morning to your alarm blaring. Checking the time, you saw it was 4:30, and you wondered why your alarm was going off so early before you remembered the plan you had made the night before.

You got out of bed and quickly dressed in athletic attire before running out of your room. You knew Steve liked to run in the mornings, so you sat in the kitchen waiting for him.

When he finally sauntered in at 5:00, he was more than surprised to see you sitting there.

“Y/n?” He asked. “What’re you doing up so early?”

“Can I run with you today, Uncle Steve?” You asked him, a pleading look on your face that you knew he couldn’t say no to.

“Yeah, sure,” He said. “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be sleeping?”

You nodded. 

“I want to start running. My mile time in P.E. class has been slacking lately and I don’t want to fail the class.”

You were surprised yet proud of how quickly you were able to come up with that lie, and you were happy to see that Steve believed every word of it.

So that’s how you spent your morning: running laps with Steve.

The two of you finally called it quits around 6:15 and parted ways. Steve went off to do whatever he did during the days, and you went off to squeeze in a quick shower before school.

By the time you were done with your shower, it was nearly 7:00, which meant you had to rush to get dressed. You finally made it to the kitchen, where Wanda was already waiting for you. The two of you yelled a quick ‘bye’ to whoever was listening before you started the quick walk to the bus stop.

You felt Wanda’s hand interlock with yours and a smile arose on your face as you squeezed her hand. You two didn’t want to publicly disclose your relationship yet, so you knew the minute you reached the bus stop you’d have to let go.

✩❀✩❀✩

At lunch, you sat at a table with Wanda, Peter, MJ, and Ned. You skipped the food line and instead opted to sip at a bottle of water.

“What’s wrong, y/n?” Peter asked you.

“What do you mean?” You shot back, not quite sure what he was getting at.

“You’re not eating.”

Shit. You had to think of a lie, and you had to be extra careful since your girlfriend could read minds. She promised you she’d never read your mind without your consent, but you were still wary.

“Uh...I’m just not feeling well,” You said. “My stomach is feeling a little flip-floppy and I don’t want to push it.”

To your luck, they nodded it off and changed the topic, not questioning you again for the rest of the day.

That night at dinner, you pushed the food around on your plate, eating a few bites here and there. It wasn’t hard to pretend you had eaten, especially since your family was so big. Everyone seemed to be so caught up in conversations with other people that they didn’t notice when you got up and scraped your food into the trash.

✩❀✩❀✩

These habits carried on for a few more weeks. You’d wake up every morning to run with Steve, make up some excuse for why you didn’t eat lunch, and you’d have a few bites of dinner before sneakily trashing it. On most weekends, you chose to spend your time training with your mom. You claimed it was so that you could stay sharp with your self-defense skills, and while that wasn’t necessarily a lie, it wasn’t the full truth, either. But your mom never questioned it, and you were glad.

You seemed to fly under the radar, until one Sunday afternoon.

You walked into your room after training with your mom to find Peter and Wanda waiting for you.

“Hey, guys,” You greeted, throwing yourself into a chair and downing half a bottle of water. “What’s up?” 

“We know,” Wanda said, a stern yet concerned look on her face.

“Know what?” You asked her, although you could feel your heart rate rising. You knew what she was talking about.

“That you haven’t been eating,” Peter joined in.

“What’re you talking about? Of course I’ve been eating.”

That was a lie. Your stomach hadn’t been properly filled in weeks and you couldn’t remember the last time it wasn’t rumbling. But that wasn’t important. What was important was the fact that you were finally losing weight. There’s no way you could stop now.

“Cut the crap, y/n,” Peter said, catching you by surprise. “We’ve been watching you. I can’t even remember the last time you bought a school lunch.”

“And you pick at your food at dinner every night,” Wanda added. “I haven’t seen you eat more than three bites. You think no one notices, but you’re wrong. And I can feel you, love. You feel...empty.”

Wanda rested her hand on your knee as you tried to process what was happening. You had been so good at hiding this, how had they found out?

“You guys, I’m—” You started before Peter cut you off.

“Don’t say you’re fine, because you’re not. We know it, and you know it, so please stop lying to us, y/n. We just want to help.”

“I have it under control, I don’t need help,” You protested. “Just...please don’t tell my mom.”

“Y/n—”

“Wanda, please,” You begged. “My mom has enough to worry about as it is. I don’t need to add this to her stress as well. I promise, I have it under control. I’m alright.”

Wanda and Peter shared a look before turning back to you. 

“We’ll keep this between us for now,” Peter said, and you felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders.

“But, if things get any worse, we won’t hesitate to bring your mom into this,” Wanda warned.

You nodded and the two of them left, Wanda kissing you quickly before walking out of the room. 

‘I just need to hide it better’ you thought to yourself. ‘This is all my fault for being too obvious about things. I need to do better.’

Wanda and Peter had dropped the topic for the time being, until a week later, things took a turn for the worse when your P.E. teacher announced that your class was running the mile that day.

Thanks to training with Steve, your mile time had improved and you were one of the fastest in the class. However, due to malnutrition, any sort of exercise made you extremely lightheaded. 

You ignored the part of your brain that was telling you to make up some excuse to sit out. You convinced yourself you just weren’t drinking enough water so you drank an entire water bottle and went to class.

You were about halfway done with your mile when the corners of your vision turned black. You blinked a few times, trying to edge it away, but it was no use. By now, you heard a loud ringing in your ears and the world started spinning around you. You slowed down a bit, trying to regain your composure when you felt your knees buckle underneath you, and you were plunged into a world of darkness, not feeling it when you hit the ground.

✩❀✩❀✩

When you awoke, you were still laying on the field, your entire class swarming around you. You were trying to sit up when you felt something attached to your hand. 

You looked to the right and saw Wanda sitting there, looking scared as hell.

“Miss Maximoff, Mr. Parker, please escort Miss Romanoff to the nurse’s office,” Your teacher ordered.

You felt Wanda help lift you to a standing position and once you were up, you felt the world start spinning again. You shut your eyes tight as two arms, you assumed they belonged to Wanda and Peter, wrapped around either side of your waist. Soon enough, the dizziness ceased and you opened your eyes, signaling for Peter and Wanda to start walking with you.

You made it to the nurse’s station where you saw your mom already waiting.

“Mom?” You asked, wondering how she had gotten to your school so quickly.

“Peter called me the second he saw you fall,” She explained.

You, Wanda, and Peter were dismissed from school early, and your mom led you all back to her car. You sat in the passenger seat while Peter and Wanda sat in the back.

“What happened?” Your mom demanded.

The tone of her voice scared you a little bit, but you knew it was filled more with concern than it was with anger.

“I must’ve just gotten overheated or something,” You lied, knowing exactly why you passed out. “I was doing fine one second, and then the next I was on the ground.”

“That’s not true, Ms. Romanoff,” Peter interjected.

You whipped your head around to him and shook your head, silently pleading him to not tell her.

“What do you mean?” She asked. “Do you know something I don’t?”

“Peter, stop,” You said, panicking at what was about to be said.

“Y/n hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a month,” Wanda admitted.

You shot your girlfriend a look of betrayal before turning back around to face forward.

“You, what?!” Your mom blared. “Y/n, is this true?”

Your silence was enough of an answer for her to understand that yes, it was true.

“Y/n, baby, why?” Your mom said.

You could tell she was trying to be strong, but her voice was cracking.

“Because I’m not like you guys, okay?!” You finally snapped, letting loose all of your pent-up emotions. “I don’t have a super-human metabolism like Peter, and I don’t have a perfectly in-shape body. I’m not an avenger and it sure as hell shows. Even people I don’t even know were making comments about it on twitter.”

“Is that why you disabled your account?” Peter asked, realization hitting him.

You nodded and looked down at your fingers, not wanting to make eye contact with any of them.

By now, you had reached the tower and your mom put the car into park, turning to face you.

“Y/n, I know it’s been hard for you to grow up in the spotlight, constantly being compared to us but this isn’t healthy,” She said, cupping your chin and lightly pulling your head up to meet her gaze. “If I had known all of this, I never would have let you do all those extra training sessions with me. It’s not safe for you to keep exercising like this when you’re not giving your body proper nourishment.”

“I can’t—” You sniffed. “I can’t stop. I need help.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek as your mom brushed it away, pulling you in for a hug before the four of you got out of the car.

Once inside, your mom told you to sit down in the living room while she left for a few minutes. When she returned, she had the rest of the team with her and you could only assume she had given them the run-down on your situation. 

You were slightly hurt that she had shared your personal life like that, but you knew it was for the best.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Your mom said once everyone was settled. “Y/n, you’re going to help with dinner every night. I know it can be hard once you’ve developed a food phobia, but when you’re in control of what we eat every night it makes things a little easier. No more throwing your food in the trash, okay? As for school, I’ll be making you a homemade lunch each day, and Peter and Wanda will be keeping an eye on you and will be reporting back to me. First thing tomorrow, I’ll call and set you up an appointment with a therapist. Bottling up your emotions will only make things worse, trust me. You need to talk to someone, and a therapist will help to give you healthier coping mechanisms.”

You listened as your mom laid out these new rules before telling you to go lie down. As you got up to leave, you were bombarded with your family hugging you and telling you they were there for you. You honestly had never felt more loved and supported in your life.

You finally made your way to your room, lying down in bed. A few minutes later, you heard a knock at your door.

“Come in,” You said weakly.

The handle turned and Wanda walked in, using her powers to levitate a tray behind her. You sat up and she put the tray down in your lap. On the tray, you saw there was a plate of cheese and crackers.

You looked down at the tray before looking up at your girlfriend. You forced yourself to pick up one of the crackers and take a bite, your mind screaming at you the entire time. But you were sick. You knew this. You wanted to get better.

“I’m sorry for telling your mother,” Wanda spoke. “You were slowly killing yourself and I couldn’t stand by and watch it happen. I’m so sorry, y/n. Can you forgive me?”

“I don’t blame you, Wan,” You told her. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I never should have forced you and Peter to keep this a secret.”

Wanda wrapped you into her arms, squeezing tightly. The two of you stayed like that for a long time before you pulled away and, bite by bite, finished the snack she had brought you.

✩❀✩❀✩

You had been in recovery for about a month now, and while things were far from easy, you knew you could do it. Your family was your support system and they were right there by your side every step of the way.

You were sitting on the couch with Peter and Wanda, you and your girlfriend tangled in each other’s arms as you watched your mom on tv. She was finishing up a press conference.

“Oh, and one last thing before I go,” She spoke toward the camera and the audience. “Whoever decided to make awful comments about my daughter online, I am a trained assassin and I will find you.”

#oneshot #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x daughter reader #wanda maximoff #mcu #mcu x reader #mcu oneshot #wanda maximoff oneshot #wanda maximoff x reader #tw ed talk #tw ed stuff #eating disoder mention

[fandomfix13]

Should've Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Should’ve Been You - JJ Maybank X Reader

Y/N finds herself in a rough situation with Rafe and JJ steps in and makes Y/N realize it should’ve been JJ all along

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: Slight violence in relationships, Lots of swearing, underage drinking (pls be safe!), Some pretty cute fluff

FIRST THING I'M POSTING SO GO EASY ON ME! I'M WORKING ON REQUESTS AS WE SPEAK!

XOXO

_____________________________________________________________

You sat in the kitchen with Sarah and John B while you waited for Rafe to finish getting ready. It had been 45 minutes since you had first sat down with them, and Rafe still seemed to be taking his sweet ass time.

“Jesus, I thought I took forever to get ready.” Sarah huffed as she sat back and entangled herself in John B’s arms. You loved how comfortable and cute they were with each other. It had been a long time since you felt that way with Rafe. It’s not that you were necessarily uncomfortable with Rafe, but things didn’t feel the same as they used too. “Guys thanks for waiting with me, but you guys should really get going, I don’t want us to make you late.” you said as you saw the time. “Are you sure? We can wait, I'm sure he’ll be done soon.” Sarah said.

You shot John B a look that said ‘go’ without having to say it. “Yeah, Sarah she's right we really should get going.” he says as he takes her hand to stand up. You mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to John B and he nodded in return as you walked toward the couch. As the two of them walked out the door, John B slipped back in telling Sarah he ‘forgot something’.

“Hey are you gonna be okay?” He said walking over to you on the couch. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?” you said in a tone that was too rushed and sounded nervous. “Because I’ve known you since you were six years old and that look that you gave me was your ‘get the hell out’ look” he laughed. “I don’t have a ‘get the hell out’ look!” you mocked him. “Oh you absolutely do and you gave it to me. Is everything okay? With you and Rafe?” He knew you too well, there was no hiding anything from him. “Yeah. He’s just….being Rafe.” you shrugged not feeling the need to go into detail. “Y/n?” he said sitting down next to you. “John B?” you returned not giving him the satisfaction of knowing what's on your mind. “You’re not gonna budge are you?” he said, looking right at you. “Not even a little.You really need to get going. You wouldn’t want to miss you and Sarah’s big entrance would you?” You said walking toward the door with John B following close behind you, you turned around to see John B giving you his ‘tell me what’s going on’ look. You opened the door once again telling him to leave. This time he had accepted his fate and walked out the door. “If you need anything, we’re all gonna be there tonight. Okay?” he quickly added. “Okaaayy.” you sighed, “now go!”

You closed the door and started walking back to the couch when you heard the sound of Rafe’s bedroom door open. As he came down the stairs you noticed something wasn’t right which in the moment you chose to ignore. That was until he came up from behind you in the kitchen and wrapped his arms around you and started kissing your neck. You didn’t mind that kind of attention but this wasn’t like him. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and as you turned to confront him about it you saw his eyes. They were glossed over and dilated. His hands were shaking on your waist and there was residue of white powder under his nose. “Next time? You might want to look in fucking mirror after you snort coke off your bathroom counter.” You said with the calmest tone you could possibly have at the moment.

He rolled his eyes at you and turned around walking towards the door to leave. “Rafe we talked about this!” you yelled after him “No! YOU talked about this. I just sat there while you ran your mouth as usual!” He stopped in his tracks to turn around and yell right back. “You know how important tonight is! Could you not even have the decency to show up sober and get fucked up later?!” You hated when he got like this. So messed up that he was an asshole to everyone and anyone is his presence including you. “Tonight is important for my DAD! It’s not important to me! He probably doesn’t even want me there! Sarah’s there, that's all he cares about. So sue me for wanting to show up already gone.” part of you felt bad for him in a way. It hurt to see him struggle, but it also hurt to fight him on it. “Rafe we need to go. We are going to miss our entrance which is just going to piss your dad off more.” you tried to be calm. “Oh right, our entrance! Yeah I’m sure that everyone is going to be so thrilled to see me walk in with a fucking pogue!” he said in such a demeaning tone that you hadn’t heard before. You were taken aback by the words that just came out of his mouth. You always had a thought in the back of your mind that Raph didn’t like that you hung around with the pogues, but you never expected him to really say it. “Wow. Okay. Um. I’m not doing this with you right now. We have a party to get to.” You say making your way to walk past him and out the door. He tried to stop you by reaching out for your arm but you quickly pulled away. “Y/n wait.” “Don’t fucking touch me right now. We need to leave.”

-

As you arrived at the event you plastered on the biggest smile you could as you held Rafe’s hand and walked in greeting all the guests that approached the two of you. Old teachers, business owners and their plastic wives, old friends. All people that you truly did not care too see. You looked around the crowded room for any one of your friends to appear to provide you with a sense of normalcy. You spotted Kie standing with her parents also shaking hands with people she clearly had no interest in seeing. JJ was waiting for the guests. Pope was helping his dad with the food. John B and Sarah were outside secluding themselves from the socialite society that was this room, and you were standing hand in hand with Rafe who just 15 minutes ago was throwing insults at you.

You walked outside to John B and Sarah who were talking about how ridiculous some of the guests look in their outfits. “Hey if you two get to hide out here, so do I” You say approaching them from behind. “Trouble in paradise?” John B said with a hint of sarcasm in his voice. “Just needed some air. The overwhelming smell of chanel number five and expensive champagne was starting to give me a headache.” You said only slightly joking. You all shared a laugh and you made your over to stand with your friends. “Drinks?” Sarah asked. You and John B both nodded without hesitation. “I’ll be right back” she said as she walked off the porch. “So.” John B said slowly turning his head towards you. “So.” you replied. “What are you really doing out here?” he said knowing that the excuse you gave was only half true. “Rafe just said some shit to me about being a pogue before we left.” you admitted. “I’m sorry, are you surprised?” he said with an attitude. “John B please don't be an asshole right now.” “Alright, okay I’m sorry. He didn’t... hurt you did he?” he said with concern in his voice. “No. He wouldn’t. He can be a dick I’ll admit, but he wouldn’t hurt me.” As you said this Sarah approached the two of you once again holding three beers. You sit there just the three of you, for a good 15 minutes before you thought you should probably go find Rafe. Not that he wanted to be seen with a pogue, but you should at least pretend like you weren’t beyond pissed at him.

As you walked through the crowded room saying your ‘hello’s’ here and there you realized Rafe was nowhere to be found. Your first thought was maybe he left. But then you realized that he wouldn’t leave a party that had so much alcohol and access to expensive drugs. You walked past JJ who was carrying a tray of champagne. “Hey J, have you seen Rafe?” you said following in his trail of champagne drop offs. “I try to never see him at all, so no I have not.” he said in his usual smart ass tone. “Ok. What about Topper?” he laughed “Considering I put a gun to his head I absolutely make it a point to not see him either.” you opened your mouth to speak again and he cut you off “Don’t ask about Kelce either. I haven’t seen them around anywhere. My guess is that they are in the bathroom making bets on who goes home with the hottest girl tonight.” You rolled your eyes at him and walked to the hallway where the bathrooms were. It was empty. While there was nobody in sight, you could hear the boys in the locker room.

Just as you decided to walk away, Topper stumbled out of the locker room. To say you were surprised to see him obviously fucked up would be a lie. You tried to quickly walk the other way so he wouldn’t see you, but you weren’t fast enough. “Were you stalking us Y/n?” Slurred Topper. God they sucked when they got like this. “Stalking you? Please. I have better things to do than stalk you. I was just looking for Rafe.” you said trying to ignore Topper’s attitude. “Rafe! Your pogue princess is out here lurking in the hallway waiting for you!” he yelled back into the locker room. You rolled your eyes at Topper’s label he put on you and waited for Rafe to come out of the locker room. He appeared almost instantly looking even worse than he did before. He was sweating, from the amount of alcohol in his system, and his eyes were beyond bloodshot.

“Jesus Rafe you look like shit. I left you for 15 fucking minutes! You look like you just went on a 3 day bender.” you spat out at him as he walked towards you. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He said cornering you. “I’m going home.” you said as you brushed past him. He grabbed your hand, harder than he tried to back at the house. “Oh come on Y/n, I’m just having a little fun. Don’t you wanna have fun?” he pulled you close to him whispering in your ear as he talked. “Fun? No. This isn’t fun. YOU aren’t fun when you’re like this.” you said trying to escape the tight grip he had on you. “Let go Rafe.” you said calmly. He started backing you up into the corner again, this time with a look in his eyes that you had never seen before. “You don’t want to have fun with me?” He said as he started to kiss your neck. “Rafe. Stop. We aren’t doing this here.” your voice was shaky. The way Rafe was acting was scary. All you could think about was all the warnings your friends tried to give you that you just ignored. Rafe was still nipping at your neck while running his hands through your hair. “Rafe get off. Im serious.” You said a little louder this time hoping that someone would hear. You could tell where this was going and you weren’t about to let that happen. “Rafe!” you yelled this time attempting to shove him off of you. As you started to shove, Rafe was pulled off of you. JJ.

“She said get off asshole!” JJ yelled as he swung at Rafe’s face. Great just what you needed. A scene at the biggest most formal party of the year. Rafe was not one to be messed with especially in the state he was in. Then again, neither was JJ. “JJ! Don’t!” you yelled really not wanting to see either one of them get hurt. Rafe swung back at JJ, and he swung hard. Fists were flying all over the place. JJ’s nose was bleeding, Rafe’s eye was swollen, but they just kept going. You knew that you should honestly just let them hash it out, but if you let them continue, one of them was really going to hurt. Plus, knowing JJ, he could’ve had the gun with him. “Guys! Stop! Please don’t do this!” as you stepped in in attempts to break up the fight, you felt Rafe’s elbow come in direct contact with your eye. “Holy shit! Y/n I didn’t-” rafe stopped as he was cut off by another punch to the jaw from JJ. “Do you feel like a big boy! Do you feel good now that you just gave her a black eye?! Fuck you bro! Fuck-” “JJ! STOP! I’m fine really. I swear just stop.” you yelled interjecting once again. The rage in JJ’s eyes was something you’d only seen in movies. “Jj look at me.” you tried getting him to look at you so you could break him out of the state of aggression he was in. Rafe stood back in shock that he really just hit you. It may have been an accident, but it wasn’t something that you were going to forget. JJ was right, you were most definitely going to have a black eye. “Jj.” you grabbed his hand and he directed his attention towards you as you pulled him away from Rafe.

“Y/n I really-” Rafe began as you turned around and got in his face cutting him off almost instantly. “No. You don’t get to talk to me anymore. If you would’ve just backed off when I told you too we wouldn’t be in this situation at all. You’re dangerous, and I cant do this anymore. We’re done Rafe. I’m done!” You said almost crying. You were so overwhelmed by what had just happened that your emotions were about to explode. “I’m dangerous? How about your little pogue friend over there? Huh? He put a gun to Topper’s head!” he shot back. JJ looked as if he could’ve thrown another punch at Rafe at any minute. “Well my ‘little pogue friend’ didn’t just punch me in the face did he?! You did. You got so fucked up that you couldn’t even chill out for 1 second! JJ put a gun to Topper’s head because if he didn’t you were going to let Topper drown John B. So yeah, you’re dangerous.” this time you were angry. As all the emotions ran through your body, there was no control over which ones were going to appear.

“Alright, fine! If you wanna be a bitch about this, be a bitch. I should’ve known better than to fuck around with a pogue.” he said is one of the most arrogant tones you had ever heard. You got as close as you could to Rafe so he could see the tears pooling in your eyes. You don’t know where it came from, but you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. JJ instantly came up from behind you and grabbed you by your waist as he pulled you back in fear that Rafe would swing for you on purpose this time. “Don’t you EVER call me a bitch EVER again, or I swear to god next time a gun is pulled on you, the trigger will be too!” you spat at him. You honestly don’t know where those words came from, but the thing that scared you is that you meant it. “Is that a threat?” Rafe said quietly as he stepped toward you. JJ pulled you back and told Rafe to back up while he whispered to you to relax. “You bet your ass it is.” JJ started walking the two of you away from Rafe as Rafe decided to speak up once again. “You’re fucking crazy!” he yelled down the hallway at you. You laughed with tears now streaming down your face. You turned around and looked him dead in the eyes. “And who’s fault do you think that is?” with that you and JJ walked out of the hallway and outside the nearest door you could find. You needed air, and you needed it fast.

-

JJ opened the closest door to outside that he could find and the second the cool outside air hit you, you fell to the ground and broke out into uncontrolled sobs. You always had a feeling that Rafe would end up breaking things off with the two of you but you never thought it would go down like that. JJ just stood there eyes wide. He had seen you upset before, but he had never seen you like this. You were broken. You sat there in the sand sobbing and mumbling a string of ‘oh my gods’ and ‘whys’ and you couldn’t stop. JJ kneeled down and just pulled you to his chest just holding you. He didn’t say a word, he just let you cry. The way he held you calmed you down little by little so you could at least catch your breath again. You looked up at him and gave him a little smile as he grabbed your face and you winced at the feeling of his finger resting underneath your swollen eye. “You need ice on this ASAP. I’m going to go get you some.” he said, sounding concerned as he stood up again. You nodded as he walked off but yelled out before he went inside “JJ. wait!” He stopped in his tracks and looked back at you. “If you see the others in there, please don’t say anything!” you cried. You didn’t need everyone knowing about this right now. If they knew now, they would cause a scene and ruin the night. You were going to tell them you just needed to process what the hell just happened. He nodded and went inside.

As you sat outside by yourself who just tried your hardest to breathe. Your heart was racing and you just needed to slow it down. You laid down in the sand and looked up at the stars and looked for the north star because you remembered Sarah saying “everything revolves around it” and that brought you a sense of comfort. Just as you found it JJ came back outside with ice for your eye. You sat back up and looked out at the water as he sat down next to you. He put his arm around you as you rested your head on his shoulder. The tears were still flowing but you weren’t crying anymore. The two of you sat in silence sighing back and forth. “I’m sorry for not stepping in sooner.” he said looking straight ahead. “Don’t be sorry. I’m just thankful you did.” you returned reliving the moment with Rafe in your head. His kisses on your neck were getting more aggressive, he was pulling your hair, his hands were wandering off to places that you didn’t want them to go. You started to cry again. “I was so scared JJ.” you buried your face in his shoulder once again letting small sobs out that you tried to hold back. “Shhh. I know. I know. It’s okay.” he was holding you again, his hand rubbing circles on your back. “He’s such an asshole! I feel like such an idiot! You all warned me about him! You all told me how awful he was and I just thought maybe you were wrong! I didn’t listen and I should’ve!” JJ shook his head and looked you in the eye “Hey stop. We knew he’s an asshole, that's a given, but the way he treated you tonight isn’t okay. It’s not your fault and you need to know that.” your head fell back to his shoulder and he laid his head on yours just before gently kissing your forehead.

You both just sat there in silence once again so you could catch your breath. “You know, you got pretty badass in there. That thing you said about pulling the trigger was intense.” JJ chuckled. You laughed a little at the thought of JJ thinking you were a badass. “The scary thing is, is I think I meant it.” you looked up at him. “Oh I know you meant it.” you both laughed. “You deserve better than him.” You looked up at him and slightly smiled at his comment. “I mean it. You deserve so much better. You have a lot to offer and people who can’t see that don’t deserve you.” something about this moment was different. As much as you loved JJ, you could both admit that he never said things that nice to anybody. “Thank you.” you said, smiling at him. He just nodded and looked back out at the water. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said about you and Rafe when you were with him. I should’ve just let you be happy, and for that I’m sorry.” He said, still looking out at the water. “It’s okay.” you said in awe that JJ maybank was actually apologizing for something. “No it’s not, I should have just supported you, but instead I just ran my mouth because in all honesty I was just jealous.” he rambled. “What?” you questioned. He was now looking away from you off in the distance. “I couldn’t stand seeing you with him. All I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me. Which is ridiculous and not a good reason to make you feel bad.” your heart started beating fast again, but this time in a good way. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you got no response. “JJ please look at me.” he looked at you and you noticed his eyes were pooled with tears. “What was I supposed to say? ‘Hey you shouldn’t be with him because you should be with me?’ I couldn’t say anything because I love you. And if I said that to you I would lose you. And that would hurt much worse than holding it in.” you looked at him in a way that you hadn’t looked at him before. He had never been this open with you about anything. There was a moment of silence before you did something you did not expect to do. You reached up and placed your hand on his cheek as you leaned in and kissed him. It was slow and sweet. It was nice. You opened your eyes to see his eyes on yours right as he kissed you back, placing his hand on the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. “It always should’ve been you.” You said before you sealed the moment with another kiss.

#jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #obx #rudy pankow #imagine #obx imagine #one shot #fluff #rafe cameron #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x y/n #drew starkey #outer banks #john b #sarah cameron #outer banks imagine

[potter-imagines]

Being Thor and Loki's Little Sister and Dating Peter Parker Would Include...

Notes: wow I haven't written a marvel one in a long time pls don't read too much into the timeline lol I know things overlap but just go with it (:

Warnings: none... I think ??

Word Count: 3.6k (sorry its a bit long for a write like this but I couldn't help myself)

You managed to do a decent job at keeping your relationship under wraps from your brothers for quite some time

Of course every other member on the team knew before the two of you even begun officially dating

Peter had spent three months ranting and raving to Tony Stark about how cute he thought you were and how much he liked you

Tony insisted time and time again he should tell you but Peter’s fear of rejection was much too large for him to find the courage for that

Unbeknownst to him,

You had spilled about your crush on Peter to Wanda and Nat almost a week after living in the compound

Being the only other girls there besides Pepper, it was easy to confide in them

Day after day you would wander to Wanda’s room and lay on her bed and gush about how handsome Peter was and how kind of a heart he had

Wanda found it adorable

And Bucky, Steve and Sam had placed the pieces together after days on end of watching Peter and yourself flirt like school kids in the gym during training

Even after being frozen for years, Steve recognized the look of smitten on Peter’s face when he talked to you

Bruce on the other hand had to sit through most of the kids talks with Tony in the lab so he figured it out fast

So when the two of you finally confessed your feelings for one another and Peter asked you out, there was only one road block holding the moment back from perfection

Your brothers

You and Peter shared the news with all the other team members expect the two, possibly most important in your case, members

You’ve been close to your brothers since you were brought into this world so it wasn’t like you didn’t want to tell them

It was more or less how overprotective they could be that made you bite your tongue

And as nervous as you are, Peter is 1,000% more worried about your brother’s finding out

Like honestly can you imagine how petrified Peter would be to tell Thor and Loki you two were dating

He’d purposely walk in the opposite direction every time he saw either of the two for the first week

Couldn’t stop fumbling with his words when he spoke to either of them

Like he was terrified

It’s sort of a cliché to have protective older brothers but older brothers who were also both Gods ????

Peter felt like a deadman walking

When the day finally came that you did tell your brothers about your relationship with Peter, it was absolutely cringe worthy

Peter had been coming home to the tower after a long day at Midtown High School when he spotted you the second he stepped foot out of the elevator

His excitement had clouded his judgement as he failed to check and see if the coast was clear

“Y/n! Hey!”

He nearly tumbled over his own feet as he rushed over to you

His face was gleaming with happiness and for a brief moment you felt a smile creep to your face until you were pulled back to reality by his hand reaching out to grasp yours

Your eyes widened in shock as you stared at Peter and before you could warn him to stop, he had planted a soft kiss on your cheek

That adorable smile was glowing from his face as he reached down for your hand only to fall once you pulled your hand away

He gave you a look of confusion, clearly surprised by your lack of response

But when an awkward cough sounded from behind him, he suddenly knew why

Peter didn’t have enough time to make any sort of a move when a husky, all too familiar voice spoke up,

“Hello, man of spiders. May I ask why you just kissed our little sister?” “Oh shit- I uh, well you see I…um...she had something on her face so I uh…”

Loki would snicker in amusement at seeing the boy squirm and prolong his torture “So you kissed her?” “Yeah…” “Hm, there something you’d like to share, little one?”

It wasn’t exactly the way you were hoping to break the news to your brothers

But it was certainly one way of doing it

The rest of the night was filled with awkward tension as you and Peter had to confess the truth to your brothers, who then made you share the news with the rest of the team

Thankfully, the rest of the team pretended they were just hearing about your new relationship for the first time, seeing as no one wanted to deal with an angry Thor

Now let’s get into your relationship with Peter

Peter Parker is the most caring person in the universe

Honestly

And dating him certainly came with it’s perks

You can expect to wake up every morning with a fresh coffee and a pastry on your nightstand, courtesy of Peter

He’ll also write you a sweet little ‘good morning’ note with a sketch of spider-man hanging from a web

(( he’s actually pretty talented in the doodling department ))

Makes cute sketches of him as spiderman and you as a princess ( vv fitting)

But also draws you as a total badass saving the galaxy bc… well you are

Count on him to be the first person to greet you when the sunrises and the last person to wish you a goodnight when it falls

Gets Mr. Stark to buy you an iphone so he can teach you how to use it

Has your name as “goddess” in his phone

The first thing he does is teach you about texting so he can pay you in imessage games

Refuses to play you in battleship since you somehow have crushed him every single time

Gets slightly annoyed with the overwhelming amount of random photos you snap of him

But he knows its all new to you and finds it irritatingly adorable

Loves it when you walk home with him from school

Will also keep reminding you that you shouldn’t have walked alone all the way to Midtown High School alone

Peter often forgets that you’re Asgardian and can protect yourself just fine

But it’s so cute how protective he is

He’s very observant and notices nearly everything

Like when you’re feeling a bit homesick

He picks up on it right away and will ask Thor and/or Loki for advice

Or when you start to become bored and tired at one of Star’s parties

Peter made his way over you before you even had the chance to turn and search for him

He’d escort you back to your room and lay with you until he was positive you had fallen asleep

Kisses to the top of your head

Is the boyfriend that will take your makeup off for you if you wear any

(( and sets yours lashes on the nightstand so neatly and labels which eye they were on cause the poor boy doesn’t understand ))

Spends weeks learning how to master the intricate braids that adorn your head

It’s so cute cause he’ll sit and look up Youtube videos and try to learn how to make the different braids and is just so confused but so determined

Taking Peter to visit Asgard

“Woah- this place looks like something from Lord of the Rings! It’s awesome!” “Lord of the Rings? I’ve never met that God.” “Uh, no, it’s a movie from Earth. We can watch it when we go back.” “To Midgard?” “Midgard? No, to New York.”

Loves it when your people refer to you as “Princess Y/n”

For some reason it makes him blush

Will tell everyone back on Earth that he’s dating a princess

I could def see Peter getting annoyed and frustrated with the Asgardian men trying to flirt and win your heart

Although that’s something that already belong to Peter

And even though Peter trusts you entirely

He’s still insecure from time to time

Especially when he sees how much taller and stronger Asgardian men look in comparison to him

But he finds reassurance in the feeling of your hand in his and the gleeful smile adorning your face as you show him around your homeland

Attempting to help Peter study

Although you’re not much help to Midgardian school work “Peter, darling, I don’t have a clue what a watergate is and I haven’t an idea how that could be scandalous.”

Maths however you excelled in

And Peter was thoroughly surprised to find you had the sequence of PI memorized to the one hundredth number- and in song form

Holding your hand 24/7

Endless cuddles on the couch

And when you’re walking around together, he does that thing where he swings your hands and back forth

Movie theater dates… at the tower b/c your brothers feel the need to be in close proximity the you guys at all times

Trying ice cream for the first time with Peter at two in the morning

One of Peter’s favorite things to do with you is take you through a walk in his world

At least three times a week Peter and you will walk around the city and find new things your Asgardian self has yet to experience

Like pizza

New York pizza to be exact

And hot chocolate

Ice skating at Rockefeller Center once the weather got cold

Loves to take you for drives in the more woodsy land of New York once fall set in and the leaves began to change

But by far his favorite thing is showing you Midgardian films and movies of all sorts

He loves that you don’t judge him for nerding out over his love for films

Not to mention you actually sit and watch Star Wars with him

(( maybe it was the whole space element but Peter was just thrilled you liked it ))

But then he shows you ‘Alien’

And it was an instant regret

It took him the rest of the night to convince you that the movie was fake

You made him sleep in your room just for reassurance

Your favorite out of the films Peter played was called ‘Toy Story’

Buzz Lightyear reminded you of Thor

In terms of TV shows

F.R.I.E.N.D.S. which quickly became your guys comfort show

Parks & Rec too “That Andy fellow looks an awful lot like Starlord, don’t you think?”

Peter refuses to let you watch Black Mirror

After the whole incident with Alien

Black Mirror didn’t seem like a good idea

Constantly teasing from the rest of the Avengers

Tony just can’t help it

He loves tormenting the two of you

Especially when Thor and/or Loki are around

“Hey Peter, I thought I saw you go into Y/n’s room last night but I didn’t see you leave until the morning. Heard a lot of noise too- thought Y/n was getting attacked. What was that about?”

Or

“Kid, I got you those condoms you asked for. How’d you manage to run out of that last box so quick? I just bought it for you a week ago!” “Messing with you, they’re just sugar packets- Thor put Peter down right now!”

Aunt May absolutely adores you

Always tells Peter how sweet you are and is constantly inviting you over for dinner

Lets you two have sleepovers in his room at her place

As long as the door stays open

Peter can’t stop laughing when you compliment May on her ability to make an amazing bowl of cereal

She thought it was a joke seeing as she burned dinner the night before to a crisp and laughs until she’s in tears

And you’re literally sitting there so confused, clearly not understanding the joke

Peter then takes you on a trip to a grocery store for the first time to show you a whole aisle full of cereal

It is then that you realize Aunt May didn’t hand make the fruity pebbles

She still laughs about it to this day

Befriending Ned and listening enthusiastically while he gives you a full speech on the franchise Star Wars

And his rant on how terrible Star Trek is in comparison

Is shocked when you ask questions out of genuine interest

Ned immediately takes a liking to you after that and asks Peter daily to invite you to hangout

Whenever Stark adds an upgrade to his suit, you’re the first person Peter shows it to

He shares quite literally everything with you

As do you to him

The rest of the Avengers love gossiping about you guys

Nat and Wanda have already started planning the wedding and Pepper has the perfect venue in mind, much to your brothers dismay

For some reason

Thor and Loki are always within reasonable distance, enough so they can keep an eye on you but also give some sense of privancy

Thor is def always the first one to step in

“Peter, please remove your hand from my sister’s behind.” “Oh uh, ye-yeah… sorry, Mr.Thor.”

Loki would find Peter amusing

He loves to mess with him whenever given the chance

“Ah, Peter. Good to see you. I’m sure Y/n informed you of our task today. Very impressed that you offered yourself as the sacrifice to the aliens-” “Wait, what? Y/n?!” “He’s kidding, Peter.”

Everyone in the Avenger’s tower knew Peter was lactose intolerant and knew the repercussions of the boy consuming any sort of dairy

(( he physically cannot leave the bathroom for a full day ))

Yet Loki regularly will swap Peter’s specially labeled almond milk with a jug of skim milk just for the hell of it

There’s something so hilarious to him about the look of panic and alarm that smacks abruptly across Peter’s face as he quickly stumbles out of the kitchen to his room

It keeps him laughing for days

You’ll just shoot your brother a look of disapproval, clearly certain it was his doing

“Loki, why did Peter run off?” “Not sure, darling sister, maybe he’s got one of those stomach bugs. I’ve heard Midgardians are prone to them…weak bodies and such.” "You switched out his milk again didn’t you.” “I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re accusing me of, little one.”

Thor is a bit more hesitant on accepting your relationship with his fellow Avenger

He trusts that Peter would never harm you

Although he did not trust that you would never be harmed because of Peter

It was risky enough that both your brothers were big names in space, as well on Earth, however

Thor knew Loki and himself were capable of protecting you but Peter?

He was just a kid, in Thor’s eyes

However the one thing that kept him from telling you this was seeing how happy Peter made you

As your older brother, Thor trusted your judgement and tried his best to be accepting of his little sister dating

And as much as he wanted to deny it, he saw crystal clear the care and love Peter gave to you and he wasn’t willing to break that for you

Still

Thor is the type of brother to barge into a room and shove himself between Peter and yourself without warning

This man does not care at all

At least Loki has the decency to give you two space as a couple

Thor does not

He is constantly third wheeling on your dates and will ‘accidentally’ walk into rooms he knows you two are in claiming he forgot something

Not that he ever grabs anything,

He’ll usually just stand and stare at the two of you until you either leave the room or ask him to leave

To which he always answers,

“No.”

But with a smile

A smug smile

PDA is something he will never be okay with

Thor will yank Peter back by the collar every time he sees his lips on yours and glare at him, “Man of spiders, I know you’re in love with my little sister but kissing her infront of me is too far.”

And Loki will physically gag just to piss you off

For the most part, your relationship with Peter is nearly perfect

It would be entirely perfect if you weren’t constantly worrying about him dying on a mission or getting hurt

But still, just like any couple, you had your moments

And when you did fight, it was typically over Peter’s safety or him not wanting you to tag along for a mission

Your common way of dealing with conflict was the silent treatment

Which is pure torture for Peter

Not only does he miss the sound of your voice

He misses having you around

Seeing your smile

Hearing you laugh from something he said

He felt terrible everytime

He’d go to Tony for advice and spend hours rambling on to him about how sorry he was for yelling at you and for adding to the fight

Tony would half listen while he worked away on a new system and suit, offering a ‘yeah’ and ‘hmm’ every few seconds which pleased Peter who thought his mentor was fully listening

And after almost two hours of his non-stop talking, Tony Stark had reached his limit

Setting his wrench down on the metal table with a thud he turned around to face the young boy

“Kid, why’re you saying all this to me and not her? I mean, I’m all ears but I’m also not Y/n. I know we’re both good looking so I can see why you mixed us up, but you should be talking to her right now.”

Similar to Peter you also had someone to confide in when the road got rocky

Loki had always been the one you shared all your secrets with

As children you were attached at the hip to both your brothers but Loki a smidgen more than Thor

Your father, Odin, had Thor at his side 24/7 growing up

While he was busy learning the ropes to ruling Asgard, Loki and yourself run amuck causing trouble left and right through the royal palace

Through the years of bonding Loki become your best friend, and you his

So when trouble struck in paradise, your older brother was the one you ran to

He’d welcome you with open arms and a questioning gaze

Loki is by far the best listener in your family

Instead of telling you what to do, he asks what you want, which is a refreshing change

After a long talk with Loki you’d search the tower high and low for Peter while ironically Peter was doing the same thing

When you did finally make-up, it felt like coming home

The apologies were so sincere and genuine

You’d end up having a sleepover in your room watching 80’s films that Peter claimed were ‘iconic’ and laying in his arms

And that’s where you felt complete

Fights never occurred often but bickering ???

DAILY

You two bickered playfully over everything under the sun

Like who’s the better superhero; Ironman or Captain American

Or

Debates between living in New York and living in Asgard

Loves to pull up Midgardian inventions and ask you to guess what it is “Princess, what do you think this is?” “Oh! Oh! I’ve seen this one! Tony has one in his kitchen!” “Okay, so what is it?” “Yes, it’s a chicken nugget maker!” “It’s actually an air fryer but we only ever make chicken nuggets in them so I’ll give you a half point.”

Peter sneaking out of your room at the crack of dawn and sprinting to his

As much as Thor and Loki liked him and supported the relationship

He was sure they’d both team up to murder him if they caught him sleeping in your bed

Steve and Tony, who seem to be incapable of sleep, have watched him tiptoe out of your room numerous times but they only share a look of amusement then go back to their previous discussion

Playing hide-n-go-seek and tag on rainy days at the tower

Cuddling in Peter’s bed while he asks you to tell him stories about Asgard

Loves hearing about your childhood and what it’s like to grow up with siblings

Is fascinated when you tell him about Heimdall

Stealing Peter’s hoodies

Especially his Midtown High School ones

They’re insanely soft

Sweet little kisses throughout the day

He's just so sweet and gentle

Loves getting to hold you and snuggle in his bed

Most weekends you spend lounging on the couch with Peter’s head in your lap while you play with his hair

Other times you’re sitting next to Peter on his bed watching him play some video game and asking a million questions “Who is that man, Peter?” “That’s me, he’s the main character of the game. That’s Mario, babe.” “You’re not Mario- you’re Peter.” “No, the main character of this game is Mario, I’m just playing him.” “Oh… and what is that green dinosaur creature?” “That’s Yoshi!” “Adorable.”

Making out between games

In terms of... y'know... sex

Neither of you were keen on rushing the process

You had tip toed on the line multiple times yet never fully crossed it

Until you had decided to make the first real move after being together for about five months

You trusted him with all your heart so it wasn't exactly scary, but rather exciting

He had a way of making you feel safe, comfortable, and loved all at once

Lets be honest, Peter nearly fainted the first time he saw you naked

And still, no matter how many times the two of you have sex,

He worships every inch of you like it was your first time all over again

You couldn't have asked for a better lover

Dating Peter means a new adventure everyday

You’re constantly learning new things about each other and from each other

Despite coming from two very different worlds

You’ve never felt more connected to a soul until Peter came along

#peter parker imagine #Peter parker #Peter Parker imagines #tom holland #tom holland imagines #tom holland imagine #loki #thor #thor odison imagine #thor odinson #loki layfeyson imagine #loki layfeyson #thor and loki sister #avenger imagines #the avengers #avengers imagine #marvel #marvel imagine #spiderman #spiderman imagine #spider-man #imagine

[dokoni-mo]

Nights Like These || All for One x F!Reader

Summary: You were his favorite.

SFW // not fluff but not angst

Word Count: 2802

WARNINGS: obsessive behavior, toxic behavior/mindsets, manipulation, possessive behavior, all for one is evil as usual, fear tactics, some sensual touching, kisses, mentions of death if you squint, swearing, age gap relationship of you squint, but reader is depicted to be in their late 20s, also the fact I also didn't proofread this one lmao (pls forgive me I was working on this at like 3 am).

A/N: This takes place before AFO became the potato man. This is my take on how he would be like in a "relationship". If you want some PRIME AFO content, however, AND ARE THE AGE OF 18 OR OVER, go check out @nonobadcat 's story A Hypnotic Nightmare. It's one of my favs atm (also, badcat, if you're reading this, i haven't forgotten about the fanart! i've just had a lot on my plate bc of the end of school. im terribly sorry if it seemed like i left you hanging).

~~

You hated armored black vans.

Ever since meeting him you knew exactly what they meant.

They would come to you when you least expected it, and often when you really didn't want them to. You could be anywhere in the world, and one would always find a way to roll up next to you. If you tried to outwalk them, they would just drive faster. If you pretended to ignore them, they would cut you off in your tracks.

Persistent little shits.

Just like him.

This time, it was late into the night when one rolled up next to you. You hadn't seen one in some days beforehand, and was relishing in that fact when the dread-vehicle rumbled up next to you. You had just gotten done doing some late-night grocery shopping for yourself, looking decent but in no way perfect. Sighing through your nose, you gave the tinted windows of the van the glare of your life, trying in vain attempt to get it to just piss off.

Even though that tactic never worked before, it would never stop you from trying.

The van pulled up to the curb next to you and slowed to a stop. Seeing as there was no way you could run or try to ignore it now, you stopped in your tracks, clenching your plastic grocery bags tighter. A moment later, the van rolled it's driver's side window down, revealing the driver to you. You didn't recognize this one; it wasn't one in his normal rotation.

You wondered if he killed one of the other ones, and this one was the replacement.

Looking into the eyes of the driver, you shot him another glare, your face morphing into a frown. This didn't seem to phase the man, however, since he just stared back at you with a blank expression.

You knew you weren't that threatening, but, come on. At least show something.

"What is it?" you questioned the man, your voice firm and serious. Although you already knew the answer to that, you prayed to whoever was listening that it would be a different answer this time.

"He wants to see you."

No dice.

You let out another sigh through your nose, this time more frustrated and annoyed than the last one.

"I just saw him the other day," you tried to bargain, "and I have ice cream in here. Can it wait until tomorrow?"

The driver shook his head, "Sorry, miss. He wants you now."

Your face assumed a deeper frown. It wasn't often that these drivers made it known to you how persistent he was being in seeing you. This made a lump form in the bottom of your stomach. What did he want this time? Another date? Quality time? Or just to remind you of who you belonged to?

You hoped it was one of the former two.

Looking from side to side nervously, you swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking again, "Can I at least put my groceries in my apartment first?"

The driver shook his head, "We can get someone to do it for you, miss. But we need to leave. Now."

Damn, this driver really meant business.

Finally admitting defeat, you slowly took a few steps towards the van, watching as the large, jet-black doors rolled itself open for you. Leaning down, you set your bags on the clean, vacuumed floor of the van, ducking down and pushing yourself inside next. The driver watched you in the rear-view mirror, making sure that you sat down and buckled your seatbelt. Once you were safe in the backseat, he shut the door to the van and pulled out into the street again, driving noticeably careful.

A soft sense of dread washing over you, you leaned up against the van door and planted your elbow on the armrest, resting your chin in your palm. Not feeling up for friendly chat with the man driving you, you fixated your gaze out the window, watching as the neon lights of Japan rushed by you.

You wondered which location you would be at today.

He seemed to have spots everywhere across the world.

You hoped it was the Tokyo one. That one had your favorite food and view.

Hugging yourself closer to the door, you tried to ignore the dread winding up in your stomach. You tried your best to just focus on how pretty the lights looked at night, but couldn't help but have your mind linger back to the racing thoughts that plagued your head.

You wished your friend had never introduced you to his stupid fucking cult. He would deny over and over that it was a cult, but it was a cult. You had been quirkless for so long, and content being so all your life. But, when your friend told you about the man she met that could give you your very own quirk, you would be lying if you said you weren't intrigued.

Biggest mistake of your entire fucking life.

~~

Alas to you, the driver didn't take you to the Tokyo location. It ended up being the Osaka location. You felt rather disappointed by this.

The driver was at least nice enough to help you out of the car and escort you into the hands of your body guards for the night. The guards quickly surrounded you, almost suffocating you by how close they were. After relaying the message that you had arrived, the guards practically drug you into the tall, looming building.

You wondered when the next time you could go outside would be.

Going through the doors, you were greeted with the familiar sight of clean, shiny marble floors, your feet clacking against them as they always did. Everything about the building was ornate but simple, reminding you of some fancy hotel.

It was so fucking obnoxious.

Only one dude and occasionally yourself lived here. And not even full time.

It make you frown.

Eventually, the guards and yourself made your way to the elevators. When one eventually came down (it didn't take long because you were most likely some of the only people in the building), all of you packed in the elevator like a fucking clown car. You were shoulder-to-shoulder with the much taller guards, suffocating on their cologne.

The dead silence in the elevator made you wanna puke.

~~

The guards left you once you were at the door.

You were now all alone in the hallway, the tall, dark, looming door before you. Your fingertips were trembling, yet you didn't know if it was out of fear or anticipation.

He probably already knew you were here. Why did you even have to go through this step? Just for his sick kicks?

Most likely.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

You swallowed and closed your eyes, taking a few deep breaths in and out of your nose. You had to give yourself a pep talk before you could lift up your hand, curling your knuckles to knock on the door.

You stopped before you could knock even once. If there was any time to run, this is it. If you could just-

No. It's impossible.

God how you knew it was impossible.

No matter where you went, no matter what you did, he seemed to always know.

You've seen him angry before. It ran shivers down your spine and made you contemplate whether or not there was an afterlife or not.

You didn't want to know how he was like when he was pissed off. Especially if it was directed towards you.

And, you knew, trying to get away from him was a sure as fuck way to royally piss him off.

Taking in one last deep breath, you put on your brave face and knocked on the door, feeling your dread become almost overwhelming in your gut.

You wet your lips before you spoke.

"It's me."

...

Silence.

Your head perked up at the nothingness that greeted you back. Was he not here anymore? Did he leave for a different place without telling you?

You opened your mouth to say something again, but quickly shut it again.

Could you... leave? Go home?

This was definitely a first.

As soon as your excitement welled up, however, you were quickly shot down again from the deep voice behind the door.

"Come in."

Fuck.

Squaring your shoulders and putting on your bravest face, you gingerly opened the door and stepped through, leaning your back against the wood as you shut it again.

Why did you do this to yourself? So willingly walk into the lion's den?

It didn't take you long to remember.

Fear.

Looking inside the room, the lighting was moody to say the least. Barely anything was turned on, and it was so deafeningly quiet, sans the sounds of the city below and the hum of the AC.

Scanning the room with your eyes, you felt your stomach do a flip when you landed on the man of the hour.

The man who had taken over your life for the past three years.

Him.

Shigaraki. Or, as he was known by everyone who wasn't you, All for One.

Probably the most feared man in Japan. Hell, the world even.

Christ on a fucking bike.

He was seated on the couch that faced the door, his usual sly smirk on his face. One of his legs was crossed over the other, and he seemed to had shed his black coat long ago. His crimson eyes bore right into the very fiber of your being, right into your very soul. His presence was so fucking overwhelming it made you feel like you couldn't breathe. The amount of power that dripped off that man was uncanny.

It always made you wonder what he wanted with quirkless little you.

Unable to maintain eye contact with him for any longer, you dropped your gaze to the floor, your back still pressed against the door. Even though you couldn't see him anymore, you could feel his eyes on you, raking up and down your body.

You prayed that this night went by quickly.

"You're late, little one." He said to you, making your shoulders tense up.

"I..." you began, your nervousness painfully obvious as you brushed your hair behind your ear, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be."

All for One let out a hum, and you could practically fucking feel his smirk grow bigger from across the room.

You wondered if he knew that you were only half telling the truth, or if he was just that delusional.

After a moment, he spoke again.

"Come into the light, darling. Let me get a good look at you."

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you hesitated for a brief second, your fingertips twitching against the wood of the door. Seeing no possible way out, you decided it was best to just do what he said. Pushing yourself off the door, you took small, timid steps into the light, keeping your gaze down on the floor. Awkwardly trying to figure out what you should do with your hands, you decided on clasping them in front of you, picking at the skin around your nails.

You could really feel his eyes on you now.

He looked you over for what felt like an eternity before he said something else, making your eyes flicker back up to him.

"There's no need to be shy, my dear," he said, sensing how nervous you were, "There's nothing to be concerned about. You know I would never harm you."

You wanted to snort out a laugh, but decided against it. Yes, he had never hurt you before, but you doubted it was out of his realm of capability.

Not knowing what to respond with, you simply just nodded, turning your attention back to your hands.

Shigaraki continued to stare at you for a good long while, his red eyes lingering on your cute face and nervous eyes.

Fucking hell you were just too adorable.

After a good second, All for One lifted up his hand, making you look up at him. He was holding his palm out to you, his usual smirk on his face.

"Come here." He said.

Shit, he was getting serious tonight.

Your cheeks tinting a faint pink, you forced your feet to raise up and make you walk across the room. Once you were close enough, you put your hand into his, watching it as it was nearly swallowed by the sheer size of his palm. Knowing exactly what he wanted, you slipped yourself in between his long, thick legs and sat back into his lap. Your side was nuzzled into the crook of his armpit, his strong arm wrapping itself around your waist to keep you in place. Just like he liked, you rested your head against All for One's shoulder, gently lying your hands across his broad chest. This seemed to please him greatly, since he put his other hand on your lower thigh, gently rubbing circles into the side of your knee with his thumb.

You must really be fucking insane.

Gently, Shigaraki pressed a gentle kiss into your hair, mumbling out a quiet good girl in the process.

You couldn't stop the pink dust from spreading across your cheeks.

"How was your day today, darling?" He asked you, the rumble of his voice in his chest loud in your ears.

You hummed before speaking.

"It was okay..." you said, feeling the hand on your side gently stroking up and down.

"You had a lot to do, didn't you?" He asked, making you glance up at him.

Of course he fucking knew about your goddamned errands and job.

"Yeah..." you said, "I was expecting to go back home and chill the rest of the night, but..."

Shigaraki let out a chuckle at this. You didn't have to finish your thought for him to know what you meant.

"Oh, I'm sorry, little one." He said, pressing another kiss to your temple, "I know you must be tired."

You nodded in response, maybe a bit too eagerly.

"I just couldn't bear another second without you, darling." He continued, tracing circles on your thigh this his pointer and middle finger, "I just had to have my special girl with me tonight."

You shifted your weight in his lap, looking up at him, "Did something happen?"

Shigaraki chuckled at this, reaching up and brushing the hair out of your face, "Let's just say I had some... family issues tonight, my dear."

Family?

Shigaraki had family?

This was definitely a first.

You couldn't help but to be nosy.

"Family?" you asked.

"Oh, nothing for you to be concerned about, my sweet girl." He said, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead.

"You never told me you had family." You pressed, not wanting to let the subject go.

"You never needed to know, small one. Besides, it would be too dangerous for you to meet them anyhow."

"Dangerous?"

"There's a possibly they would try to take you from me."

"I highly doubt you would let that happen."

He chuckled, "As clever as always, my darling."

"What are their names?"

"Let's move on from his, my love."

"But I-"

"Are you hungry, dear? I can have someone fetch you something."

"Shigaraki, I just-"

"I said no."

A shiver went down your spine and you were quick to shut your mouth. You knew what that tone meant. It meant shut up or you get a punishment.

You always just chose to shut up.

Seemingly pleased at your compliance, Shigaraki assumed his usual smirk again and planted a kiss on your cheek, rubbing more small circles into your side.

"Have I told you how radiant you look tonight, my dear?" He asked you.

Not feeling in the mood to talk anymore, you just shook your head no.

"You always look gorgeous to me, my dear. Every single piece of you."

Pulling you closer to his chest, he lifted up your chin and looked deep into your eyes.

"My special girl. My favorite."

Closing the distance between the two of you, All for One pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath away. His kisses were always just like him: strong, confident, and dominating.

Kissing Shigaraki always filled you with a whirling of emotions. Perhaps it was because you were tired that night, or perhaps it was because of the air, but you allowed yourself to fully enjoy his kiss. The feeling of his hands on you, the feeling of how small he made you feel, the feeling of his power radiating off his skin...

He always had this affect on you. When you were apart from him, you found it hard to love him.

But, when you were together...

you found it hard to stop.

#all for one x reader #afo x reader #mha afo #bnha afo #bnha x you #bnha x reader #mha x you #mha x reader #mha x y/n #bnha x y/n

[nerdzzone]

Only For A Moment: August

Summary: A series of shorter one shots from Chris and Whitney’s life together throughout the pandemic. Some happy times, some harder times, some fluff and some things a little more sexy - they work through it all as they try to get settled in their new and blossoming relationship.

Chris Evans x OFC

Part of the Once Bitten/More Hearts series

Only For A Moment: July

Note: I’ve had a super busy day, but I wanted to get this posted so I edited it really quickly. Please forgive me if there’s any little mistakes!

Thank you to everyone who has liked, reblogged and commented! Hearing your thoughts really makes my day!

-----

August 2020

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find someone who actually enjoys moving - especially if that move involves a three year old who feels the need to be very involved in the packing, but is also incredibly easily distracted. And even more so when that child's father is almost just as distractible and, despite his insistence that he'd stay focused, does more to hinder the whole operation than help.

That was the situation that I found myself in at the end of the first summer of the pandemic because we were moving in with Chris.

While I was hesitant at first, it made the most sense and neither Grayson nor I were particularly eager to return to our tiny little apartment. I still felt that it was pretty early in our relationship for us to be living together, but we'd survived so far and moving back seemed like it would do more harm than good. Grayson had settled in nicely at Chris' house and another big change - like making him go back to having two homes - seemed like it would be very disruptive.

But moving came with it's own challenges.

After our conversation a few months earlier, Chris had told all of his most trusted friends about our change in relationship status. That came in handy as a few of his buddies - who had trucks - had volunteered to help us move things the last weekend of August, but packing had me feeling overwhelmed. I'd managed to give most of the furniture away - between our friends and Chris' family - but we still had way too much stuff.

It was on that Saturday morning that I found myself sitting in the middle of Grayson's old bedroom almost in tears. I'd packed up his mountain of toys the night before only to find Chris and Grayson unpacking several boxes the next morning while I was trying to finish up in the living room. Apparently, Grayson had wanted a certain toy that I'd already packed and instead of telling him to wait because he had several other things to play with that weren't boxed up, Chris helped him look for it.

He was trying to be helpful, thinking that repacking a few things would be easier to deal with than a meltdown from Grayson, but it had been a long, tiring week as I tried to get everything organized and their actions almost pushed me to my breaking point. I scolded them both and banished them to the little playground just outside the building while I set to work cleaning up their mess.

Almost twenty minutes later, I heard a knock on the front door as it creaked open. I poked my head out of the room I was in - ready to send the boys straight back outside - only to see Chris' oldest and closest friend, Tara. She was masked up for safety and knowing how sweet and helpful she was, she was a refreshing sight. I'd met her several times, mostly when Grayson was a baby and I lived with Chris, and she'd been a calming and encouraging presence back then so I was definitely relieved to see her during another time of high stress.

"Hey," I smiled. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought supplies," she informed me, holding up a tray of iced coffees. "Chris called and said that he thought you could use some help."

"You're a lifesaver," I groaned with pleasure as she put down the tray and handed me one of the drinks. "I need this, thank you so much."

"You're welcome," she returned my smile. "How's the packing going?"

"Not bad now that the boys are outside," I laughed. "It's pretty much all done, I think. You never realize how much junk you have until you have to pack it all up."

"Oh my god, I know. We moved last year and it felt like the piles of things we had to take was never ending."

"It's crazy," I agreed. "Especially with all Gray's stuff. I thought we did a good job of not spoiling him, but he has an insane amount of toys."

"I can imagine," she cringed. "But I have no plans all day so just tell me what you need help with and I'm all yours."

I thought for a moment as I sipped the coffee she'd brought me until I had an idea.

"Actually..." I started, feeling a bit sheepish. "Would you be willing to take Grayson for a bit? I know it's a big ask, especially while he's so excited, so feel free to say no."

"Are you kidding? I'd love to take him!"

I let out a breath of relief as I felt my body relax.

"Thank you so much. I really need Chris to help me carry these boxes and he's been so preoccupied with Grayson that he's been no use at all," I explained. "It's a big change and he's worried about him being freaked out by it all, which I totally get, but I need him to focus a bit too."

Tara laughed and shook her head.

"I get it, don't worry. I know what he can be like," she assured me. "I'll go down and get Gray now and send Chris up here."

"Thank you. You're the best, Tara."

She waved off my gratitude and insisted it was no problem before leaving me to turn my attention back to what I'd been doing before she arrived.

-

Once Grayson was in the safe care of Tara, Chris was much more useful. We were packing things with impressive speed and when it was almost time for his friends to show up with their trucks, we started moving things down to the lobby of the building to make the loading process quicker.

I was a tad nervous about the whole situation as I hadn't spent much time with most of Chris' friends and I didn't really know what they thought of me. I hoped they'd be understanding of our situation and give me a chance, but if he really had been pining away for me all these years - thinking that I didn't want to be with him - I worried that they'd think I was selfish and heartless.

Those worries, combined with my stress about getting everything organized, had me still feeling rather on edge. It didn't help that the creepy maintenance man that I'd warned Chris about was watching us like a hawk. I could feel his eyes on me every time I stepped foot in the lobby and the sensation made my skin crawl. I just wanted to get it all done and over with as fast as possible so we could get away from him, but Chris had clearly noticed him too and I could feel his annoyance rising as well.

He held it together until our last trip down when our spectator really crossed a line. I was bending over to place some boxes on the ground when I could have sworn I heard a groan of pleasure from behind me. I snapped back up to standing and looked over my shoulder to see the man with a smirk on his face and his eyes fixed on me. It made my stomach churn, but Chris was immediately by my side, his arm sliding around my waist. Before I could even question what he was doing, he pulled down his mask and then my own, cupped my jaw with his hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

It was a rather passionate embrace and I was surprised as he usually wasn't one for public displays of affection. Then it hit me why he was doing it and I felt a flash of annoyance run through me as he pulled away. There was a smirk on his face as he rested his forehead against mine, but all I could muster was a frown.

"Do you think he got the hint?"

I scoffed at his question.

"I think he got enough pictures to pay his bills for the next few months," I huffed, keeping my voice low so we wouldn't be overheard. "Are you done marking your territory now?"

Chris looked taken aback by my harsh tone and I sighed as I slipped out of his grasp and headed to the door. I wanted to see if his friends had arrived yet and get away from the creep, but Chris followed and wasn't prepared to let our conversation drop.

"What, so I'm not allowed to kiss you in public in case someone sees?" He asked once we got outside, his own annoyance coming through. "I thought you didn't care if people found out about us?"

I stopped walking and spun around to face him.

"I don't care," I snapped. "But I'd rather not give some pervert the chance to profit off of us just to save your wounded pride."

Even with his mask pulled back up, I could see Chris' jaw clench with frustration.

"He was being disrespectful. I was standing right there and he moans while staring at your ass? C'mon, he's a fuckin' asshole."

Another flare of anger washed over me as I fought to keep myself calm enough to explain to him why what he'd just said was almost as frustrating as the actions of the man who'd been ogling me.

"He was being disrespectful," I agreed, my voice steady despite my rising temper. "But to me, not to you! It doesn't matter if I have a boyfriend or not, he shouldn't behave like that towards any woman! I don't deserve to be respected because of you, I deserve to be respected because I'm a human being who has a right to feel safe in their own apartment building."

Chris' shoulders dropped as he took in my words and visibly calmed down, but I was still feeling wound up.

"Shit, Winnie, you're right," he relented. "I don't want anyone to treat you like that ever, not just because you're my girlfriend. It just pissed me off that he had the balls to do that even in front of me."

"So kissing me like that to send him a message was the best solution you could think of? Like, 'don't touch this one, she's mine'. It made me feel gross. I don't need you claiming me in public to scare off creeps, thanks."

"I didn't mean it like that," Chris insisted, looking slightly wounded by my scolding. "I'm sorry, I was being an idiot."

"Okay," I shrugged, somewhat blowing off his apology. "We should go to the parking lot. Your friends might be here."

"Are we good, Win?" He asked, clearly not as eager to let the subject drop. "I want to make this right if you're upset..."

"I'm fine," I sighed, knowing that was only half true. It was only half his fault though, the stress of the day overall was more to blame and, at that point, I just wanted it to be over so I could have a nice big glass of wine. "Let's just go see where your friends are."

He didn't argue as I walked off and when we turned the corner into the parking lot, his friends were all there lined up in the visitor's spots. I forced a smile despite the fact that it was hidden by my mask and waved as we walked over.

"Hey!" I greeted them. "Thanks so much for doing this. We really appreciate it."

"Ah, no worries!" Jon assured me. "But, are you really sure you want to move in with this guy?"

"Yeah, we were just talking," Zach continued. "And it feels a bit Stockholm syndrome-y. He confines you to a house and suddenly you fall in love? Seems a bit suspicious."

"Wow, guys, glad you're on my side," Chris laughed. "I wouldn't have asked you to help out if I knew you'd try and change her mind!"

"We just want to make sure we're not committing any crimes here," Luke insisted. "I don't want to be an accomplice to anything and we're all scratching our heads about what she could see in you."

Chris shook his head at their teasing and I tried to push our earlier discussion from my mind as I giggled and slid my hand into his. I felt him tense up in surprise at the gesture, but he relaxed as I squeezed it and leaned against his arm.

"There's no Stockholm syndrome here," I assured them. "It just took a pandemic and the constant threat of impending doom for me to come to my senses. I'm just lucky Chris was silly enough to wait for me."

Chris chuckled and leaned over to place a kiss on the top of my head as his friends rolled their eyes.

We quickly went over the game plan for the day once the initial greeting was over and as soon as his friends turned to head towards the building, I dropped my hand from Chris'. I knew I was being petty and sulky and from the sigh that fell from Chris' lips, he did too, but I couldn't help it - I needed some space to work through my cranky mood on my own. Luckily, Chris seemed to figure that out pretty fast and left me to my brooding as we followed his friends and got to work.

-

It didn't take us as long as I expected to load all the boxes into the trucks, but that was probably the benefit to having a team of strong men helping you move. Once it was all unloaded into the spare bedroom at Chris' place where I had been sleeping at the start of the pandemic, Chris broke out a few beers for his friends and fired up the grill while we waited for Tara and Gray to arrive. It was a beautiful, warm evening and perfect for an impromptu barbecue to thank all Chris' friends and it was a great opportunity for me to bond a bit more with some of the most important people in Chris' life.

Grayson knew them all better than I did, but we had some concerns that the lack of socialization would make him nervous around the now somewhat unfamiliar faces. But he put those worries to bed almost as soon as he arrived as he was the life of the party. He was thrilled to see the three men who were sitting in the lawn chairs dotted around our yard - in an effort to keep everyone somewhat distant from each other - and the cheer they let out as soon as they saw him made me think they were just as excited. They seemed to really adore him and he thrived on the attention. It warmed my heart to see the genuine care they all had for Grayson - it was wonderful to know he had so many people in his corner - and I was relieved when that care was extended to me.

Any doubts that I'd had about them accepting me were quickly pushed from my mind as they seemed to be just as eager to get to know me as I was to get to know them. They were all lovely, kind people and I wondered why I ever expected anything else from the people in Chris' inner circle.

They left as soon as Grayson's bedtime rolled around - partially because we were all tired from our long day of moving boxes and partially because we all knew there was no way that Gray was going to agree to go to bed while the party was still going. Once they were gone, he demanded Chris tuck him in so I tidied up in the kitchen while he handled bedtime.

As soon as I'd finished putting the last few dishes in the dishwasher, I felt his arms around my waist.

"Hey," he whispered in my ear, his chin resting on my shoulder. "Thanks for cleaning up."

"You don't need to thank me," I smiled, turning in his arms so we were face to face. "It's my house to keep clean too now, even if that's still weird to think about."

"Weird in a good way?"

"Definitely," I nodded. "It's felt like home here for a while now. It would have been awful to go back to that little apartment."

"It would have been weird for me too," Chris agreed. "I can't imagine being in this big house without you guys anymore."

"You'd have to move all your friends in," I teased, using it as a segue. "Who, by the way, are all very nice."

"Yeah?" Chris grinned. "You think so?"

"I do. I was a bit nervous about it," I admitted. "In case they resented me for how our relationship unfolded, but they're great."

"They never resented you at all," Chris chuckled. "Pretty much everyone who knows about our first night together was on your side about that and they've been pushing me to make a move ever since."

"Well, that's good to know."

Chris nodded and continued.

"They all really like you. Jon gave me clear instructions to not fuck it up."

I laughed at that, but felt a wave of relief.

"I appreciate their support."

"Well, you definitely have it."

Chris leaned down to press his lips against mine and I melted into his body, feeling the exhaustion from the stress of the day start to hit me. We stayed like that, just holding each other for a few minutes until Chris broke the silence around us.

"Can we talk about earlier?"

My stomach churned with embarrassment at the memory, but I nodded.

"Of course, we can. I'll start by saying that I'm sorry."

Chris leaned back slightly, just enough to look down at me with his confusion written all over his face.

"You're sorry? Why are you sorry?" He asked. "I brought it up so that I could apologize to you."

"You don't need to," I assured him. "I get why you did what you did. I just don't deal with stress very well and the whole day was overwhelming me. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

"You don't deal with stress very well? I never would have known!" His words were laced with sarcasm as he smiled down at me and I laughed, gently smacking his chest in protest. "But seriously, I deserved a good scolding. You were absolutely right with what you said, I shouldn't have handled the situation like that."

"I appreciate that you can see where I was coming from," I sighed. "But there is no perfect way to handle a situation like that, really. It's best just to ignore it, but then it feels like you're letting the gross guy win."

"Well, if we're ever in a situation like that again, I'll follow your lead," he insisted. "But I can't say that I'll just ignore it. I might just punch the guy out for being a creep."

I laughed again before shaking my head.

"And then whoever is watching will have a different kind of picture to sell to the trashy magazines."

Chris cringed at that comment.

"I'm sorry. Do you really think he took pictures?"

"I don't know," I shrugged. "But if he recognized you then I'd be surprised if he didn't."

Chris nodded, clearly getting lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again.

"And you really don't care if proof gets out that we're together?"

"I don't," I insisted. "I don't like the idea of some pervert making money off of us, but I don't care if people know we're together. It might be good for people to get used to the idea now, when we're hiding at home all the time anyway. By the time we can go outside again, no one will care enough to take pictures of us."

"That might be wishful thinking," Chris smiled. "But I'll do my best to keep you out of the spotlight."

I matched his smile and stretched up to place a kiss on his lips.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

As I predicted, the creepy maintenance man did take pictures of us and he did sell them to some trashy magazine. The internet was horrified, the hearts of fangirls all over the world were broken and I was called every cruel name under the sun. There were rumours that I trapped him with another baby and rumours that I was a gold digger - just using Chris for his money so I didn't have to work during the pandemic. The general reception to the forced confirmation of our relationship was pretty abysmal, but nothing worse than we expected and at the end of the day we didn't care.

All the people who truly cared about us were happy for us and that was the most important thing.

-

September

Tags: @maggotzombie @moonlacebeam @mizzzpink @zaylaugh @flowery-mess @flowerjewels @njrronaldo7 @hockeychick10 @partypoison00 @theladybiers @sidepieces @firoozehmoon @patzammit @sparkledfirecracker @mytbel0st @chvntelle-99

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans fan fiction #once bitten/more hearts #only for a moment

[devotion]

hold you forever → peter p.

summary: your misguided tattoo has appeared on your eighteenth birthday. however, they aren't the initials of your one and only peter parker.

warnings: angst, swears, an emotional ride, happy ending, a few suggestive references but not really.

notes: a soulmate au. prompts in bold for @rosyparkers challenge (back in aug 😔).

word count: 3.7k+ | p.p masterlist

───✦

the balmy weather outside would have been a welcoming relief for you if you didn't spend your birthday staying cooped up in your room for the past couple of hours. you had other plans; all spent with the company of your best friends and boyfriend.

maybe a little campfire at the end of the day - cooking your favourite s'mores and doing everything and anything that you deemed enjoyable. it was your day after all. but your sullen mood had gotten the best of you - the reason why brought you down almost instantly you found out. like the sky no longer seemed limitless anymore.

you should have been thankful. while your parents were out, getting decorations and preparing for the ultimate birthday you were going to have, there you were -- leaning on your bedroom door and part of your head buried between your knees, ignoring all the incoming messages and calls from anyone - especially him.

it would have been a lie if you said that you weren't expecting this; almost everyone you knew looked forward to their big day. to have a clue on who their better half would be. with that in mind, you and peter had barely mentioned soulmates before, except you both denied the concept - as really - it was just too good to be true. and instead, settled on the fact that they just simply didn't exist.

however, not a single ounce of your being succumbed to admitting it wholeheartedly. and now you were paying the price - lying to peter that, in reality, you had always been smitten with the fact that there was someone to love out there. someone destined for you. someone who could be your personal hero. but who knew that, from the very start, you were mistaken about your own? to the point you had overlooked it completely because you were that confident it was him -- peter.

your peter.

but to see - that your wrist had initials miraculously engraved on your left wrist was anything but his; it truly shook you - expecting no other than two p's. not one with the letter b next to it.

but part of you guessed the universe didn't always have the plan you wished for. and even if it meant dying without him - with nobody to take care for you, to give you the physical affection you deeply craved for -- that urgent need seemed to only be a desire at that moment. it was equal to nothing. it didn't matter at all no matter how much you wanted him.

he just wasn't yours.

it hadn't hit noon as of yet, but peter dwelled on why you hadn't texted him back, even bearing in mind that he knew you were a pretty shit texter, but the feeling of discomfort planted itself inside peter's chest.

why were you so stressed?

peter sat down on the edge of his bed, his fingers weaving through his mess of hair, pondering whether or not to come over to your apartment below his.

but if only, he thought, you knew he could feel your emotions. maybe the constant worry of letting you know that would put him at ease.

thoughts like this would always pass his mind every so often. though what always drew him back was that if he let you knew, he wouldn't want to withstand the pain and neglect of you not wanting anything this serious. even if you've already been through your whole life together since diapers. or if worse came to worse, the utter heartbreak he would feel of the image where you'd be broken all your life without a soulmate if he didn't come home after fighting crime.

that thoroughly tormented him the most no doubt.

he knew -- you knew -- that secrets, big secrets like this, weren't healthy for relationships. maybe keeping them were logical in this sense. but truthfully, how were both of you going to handle it this time?

maybe ignorance was bliss. although now that it involved you both and your whole lives ahead of you - now... you didn't think it was actually worth it.

"peter! i need you to try this new spaghetti recipe i made!" aunt may's voice rang through the apartment, completely catching peter off guard, his spidey senses being completely useless at that point as he slipped off the bed in a thud.

thankfully may didn't hear that.

before peter could think about his previous thoughts any further, he allowed himself to settle on the matter that you were busy with your parents, shoving the negative suspicions he kept in his mind. even if he could still feel the inkling that you weren't having a great time at all. he was going to visit you in an hour like you both had planned, anyway. he'll just have to wait.

──

snivelling, your hand finally seized your phone in annoyance, only to find out that it was mj calling. you wiped your nose and tears in an effort to somehow sound better on the phone, accepting the call shortly after you had a coughing fit.

the conversation started off fairly simple, talking about how you've both been lately since school ended. all until she asked you how your birthday was going. and being with mj taught you how to never have a filter with her - to speak the perfect truth - since she could already notice the way you felt because of her ability of being very "observant".

"like trash, mj," you began, "i'm in such a mess."

mj's eyebrows creased as she replied, "why's that? did you buy the wrong outfit? 'cause i can come over-"

you were quick to intervene, "no no."  your head dropped down to look at your unclothed wrist. you confessed, "i... have a... tattoo."

"and?" she probed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. maybe sometimes you were a little dramatic, "what's so bad about that? didn't you want peter to be your soulmate?"

you bit your lip to stop yourself from the tears from falling, squeezing your eyes shut as you said, "he isn't. that's what my problem is. it says pb."

"oh whatever," she gave in, rolling her eyes even if you didn't see her. mj would always say that she thinks that you and peter were made for each other - in more aspects than one. and to think you'd say that, she didn't think she heard right.

but her dismissiveness seemed to have made you whimper. it wasn't helping since no one could convince you otherwise when the biggest, most obscure, obstacle was right on your body. instantly, when mj had heard it, she maintained in a soft voice, "come on, y/n, don't say that."

"no i can't, mj. i can't let this slide," you choked back a sob. "i genuinely thought we had our whole life planned ahead of us. there was so much more to what we had. i love him. i love him so fucking much," you stressed, attempting to hide your sniffles,

"it hurts," you continued to lament, "hurts to know that it's not him that i won't spend the rest of my life with. i want him. i've fallen too hard for peter that it slipped out of my mind totally whether or not he would be my soulmate from the very start."

a silence fell over the phone, giving you time to wipe the tears that escaped. even though it was no use since your eyes had welled up again. mj spoke up, "you sure it's not a p?"

"no mj, it's clear that it's a fucking b."

"upside down, maybe?"

"still would be pb, wouldn't it, michelle?"

"you mean qd, right?" she corrected before snorting, suppressing her laugh as she realised, "ha, what if it's peanut butter?"

you wanted to laugh, in an aim to ease the tension, but there was a tightening in your throat that forced you take in a short breath.

rather than a snarky comment, mj tried to be understanding even if she couldn't relate; that in all fairness, falling in love with someone who wasn't destined for you was really a tricky situation. you hear a sigh on the phone, "could be a misunderstanding, girl. peter's not turned 18 yet, you'll have to wait a little longer, a month to be precise, to see if your initials are on his wrist."

"what? is this a three way to you?" you deadpanned and mj couldn't help chuckling loudly at that, "and if they aren't?"

your best friend knew how much he meant to you; the love you had practically radiated from one another. although mj had a soulmate of her own, she was well aware of how strong the connection between you and peter was. she never tried to dictate your relationship; all she could do was suggest what was best for you.

"look, y/n, i love you. and if i haven't stressed that enough throughout the time that we've known each other, i'm sorry." you heard another sigh. "but i ain't kidding when i say that you can always be friends."

friends.

just... friends?

she went on, "your life doesn't revolve around a man. it never has."

"mj, i understand you. i really fucking do. but that would apply if soulmates didn't exist!" you almost shouted over the phone, again realising that it was her time that you were wasting, "no, sorry, i mean. sorry for shouting."

you lowered your tone to sound less harsher, but mj could still hear your voice edging whilst you spoke, "but i honestly wouldn't have cared this much if i never felt the fucking pain he has. the falling bricks that lands on him when he's neck on neck with some next-level bitch, his sadness over his uncle every so often, or even when everyone asks him about tony. and to add to that already, the constant stress of college overwhelming him - all of it."

you breathed a sigh of exasperation to calm yourself down.

"and you fully well know the amount of times i've screamed for no reason when peter was out at night patrolling when we studied together."

"yeah, my mom really thought we had something going on between us."

you tried not to chuckle. "it doesn't make sense," you finalised, "we may have gone through our whole childhood together, but this -- it's different. this tattoo- it- it makes no sense and it's affecting me so much. the reason why i'm not balling my eyes out and screaming right now is because peter somehow feels happy at the moment."

"so, why are you worrying?" she countered.

you smacked your head. the sound was that harsh that even michelle had heard it over the phone, "ouch, that must've hurt." but she dismissed the comment as quick as she muttered it, "you know he's happy because it's your birthday."

that had completely slipped your mind. on its own accord, your bottom lip trembled, voice coming out as a whisper, "yeah. but he's always happy on my birthday."

"maybe you just know him because you've always been together?" she suggested to you, "sometimes that just happens, right?"

but by that point, mj didn't fully take on board the situation. all of it being very confusing, just like how you were. and she decided that you had better go to him to sort things out instead of you mulling it over and doing absolutely nothing.

"yeah, you're right," you exhale, the tears no longer flowing down your cheeks as you took into consideration her advice ─ you were going to tell him that you couldn't see each other any more like this.

because, really, peter didn't deserve an unfair relationship with you - you'd rather have it end now to get over him. besides, it was selfish of you to keep him to yourself - leading him on like this. wasn't it best to let the people who were most dearest to you go anyway?

──

as you stood there in front of the door of the parker apartment, pensive, you already knew that you weren't ready for this. sweaty palms, jittery nerves, a blurred subconscious - you had it all. moreover, you had been so consumed in your own bubble that you had forgotten to wear shoes.

fingers tangling with each other, you became familiar with the feeling of instant regret surfacing and bubbling your insides. many passersby gave you weird looks as to why you just stood there.

no. you simply weren't going to tell him yet. not today. save it for another day, right? that way you don't have to cry in front of peter and his aunt-

"fuck it," you muttered under your breath, but before you wrapped your hand to knock on the door, someone had opened it - revealing a smiley peter. in a heartbeat, taking in your red eyes, his smile dropped. and all of a sudden your heart felt heavier than it did before; the emotions locked up and weighing you down massively.

were you really going to go through with this?

he opened the door fully, gesturing for you to come inside and you hesitantly stepped in, the whiff of freshly-made tomato sauce enveloping your senses. it smelt heavenly.

"are you okay, y/n?" peter spoke up, stepping just a little closer and coming to a stop as he noticed your red eyes, "why've you been crying?"

in hopelessness, you looked down at your socks, the same pair you had borrowed from peter in fact, and back at his face - worry etched clearly in his expression. the air of despondency made peter uncomfortable and your silence told him he wasn't going to like where this was going.

eventually, you realised if you didn't speak, the void of sound would have laid bare any conversation, and you didn't really come for that. so, you answered, "i- have to apologise."

his eyebrows raised and he thought the worst was to come, but his whole heart and mind trusted you; you couldn't hurt him. but you did with the next few words,

"we can't, pete," your eyes bore into his soft, brown ones , "i can't see you like this, anymore," and peter could hear your heart accelerating at such an alarming rate; generally meaning that you were scared of something.

he questioned, "what do you mean? have i done anyth-?"

"-no," you interrupted him, the words coming out more strangled as you said them, "we have to break up."

"wait. hold up. on your birthday? you're breaking up with me right now? don't i deserve an explanation at least?"

"i-," you paused, asking yourself, did you? no, in reality, you didn't. but your mouth never really cooperated with your brain as you went with, "i don't think a relationship is right for us right now, because you've been so busy with patrol, and- and-"

"-i've always made time for you," his voice broke, "this doesn't add up."

the way you sounded quite stupid didn't please you the slightest bit as you replied, cursing yourself for using the high school musical reference, "we just have to go our own way now, pete. i'm tired of these games."

you toyed with your sleeves as you let the painful words out, utterly lost in your emotion, when immediately, (you were glad the door was shut) you heard aunt may screaming,

"peter benjamin parker!" the woman's cry startled you, "get up here right now!your room is in an absolute tip."

at the same time, the back of your mind thought about the use of his middle name. although, you figured it was the best time to leave, blinking your eyes harshly to stop the threatening tears from spilling - it could possibly be the last time you stepped in here.

peter ignored his aunt, as much as he knew it was wrong to, but his eyes never moved away from your face - glazing over with tears whilst he got to take in what he could. were you actually leaving?

you finally forced yourself to look away from him. even as you sniffled to turn away to the door, peter watched you go, not believing that this was happening.

still his hand reached out to grasp your left hand, savouring the possibly final touch of your skin with his.

but what you failed to remember was about the ink decorated on your wrist. now, your sleeve of your jumper had ridden up because he clutched your hand tightly, not letting go, and peter looked down to appreciate how your hand fit with his so perfectly.

and then he saw it.

your line of vision was directed towards the picture hung up near the door frame, completely clueless on what peter was seeing. a picture of you and him at the homecoming dance (taken by ned) displaying the first kiss of many shared between you two on the canvas.

you felt peter let go of you. but you didn't expect him to ask you,

"do you believe in soulmates?"

anxious, your head whipped around to look at him narrow-eyed, "no," you lied through your teeth, hoping he wouldn't notice. but peter didn't assess your face as he was more bothered about your response.

he knew well that it was his initials on your wrist. yeah, it might not have been pp but benjamin was also his middle name. all in all, it finally was clear to him why he could feel what you felt.

"oh, well," peter choked, becoming glassy eyed ─ not wanting to proceed by saying the upcoming words. yet he couldn't live with the fact that if you didn't know he was, indeed, your soulmate, he probably would never forgive himself if you let go out of his grasp. even though you probably were going to, he wanted to let you know at least.

but who was he kidding? he needed you for crying out loud. with that, he continued, "that's a shame because i'm it." at long last he confessed,

"i'm your soulmate."

your face washed blank with confusion, like the cogs in your brain couldn't turn fast enough to take in the information from what peter had just informed you with.

"peter b-!"

every muscle of your body just froze, trying to process his words still, as aunt may descended from the stairs, arriving on the landing in frustration. even then, you could tell she was still seething. but due to the fact she saw you in the doorway, at once she regained her composure.

and it clicked.

how on earth could you have forgotten peter's middle name?

may gave you both a tight-lipped smile, already wishing that she wasn't there to invade your privacy. it was evident with the quietness between you two. and the distress on peter's face showed how important the discussion you were having was.

"i'll go," she disclosed, before turning to peter, "and you better sort the filth in your room, young man," then, pivoted slightly to face you, "you may go into the kitchen, y/n, and grab anything you want. i have spaghetti!"

soon enough, may had gone. whilst peter dreaded your departure, you raised up the cuff of your sweater, making known the tattoo that was marked down underneath.

he gulped at the moment you edged nearer to him, and you lifted your head, a smile slowly appearing on your face at him, baring your teeth. the bliss you felt emitted easily towards peter because of the close proximity, instantly flexing the muscles in the apples of his cheeks as the corners of his mouth turned upwards.

you feel your cheeks heating up, affirming and crunching your nose up in attempt to hide your embarrassment, "you're mine."

"i'm yours," he confirmed, a grin spreading on his face, "bet you feel like a right dumb ass,"

you moaned childlishly, "fuck you, peterrr." elongating his name as your head fell into the nape of his neck.

the clear and resonant sound of his laugh reached your ears, the vibrations of his chest growing stronger against your own as you hugged him. eventually, peter calmed down, brushing his lips on your neck, then saying through a chuckle, "will do, baby. gotta wait a while."

if it was even possible, your face felt all the more warmer. meanwhile, you revelled in his embrace -- and so did he, almost afraid to release your hold again.

you murmured quietly to him, "i love you, pete. i'm so sorry 'bout what i said. you patrolling doesn't affect me at all and-"

peter's finger reaches your lips to hush you, "-and i love, i love, i love you," he cut in, already aware that what was said prior were just excuses. he didn't blame you for being forgetful about his full name; but he would come to that matter some time later.

you beamed up at him when he said that, catching his focus. and it seemed like the world fell away. like nobody but you two existed.

your nose touched his, peter's hand trailing across your arm to your wrist, wrapping it around your own. the tingle you felt now that his touch rested there gave you the best feeling you've ever had in your entire entity. he brought your hand up for both of you to admire - to see that the letters were more prominent than ever.

and upon seeing this, peter planted a deep kiss on it - making you throw your head back in laughter at the way it felt. almost ticklish, but this was a good kind - where you wanted nothing but more.

after a couple of moments, you piped up, pursing your lips up at him, "i have to apologise to mj for the shit i came out with. i really wasted her time," you said, sadly.

"oh, fuck," his head tilted backwards, thereafter complaining, "mj knows already? before me?"

"yeah?" you replied confused.

"i wanted to do a surprise, show our tattoos together the next time we meet or something," he pouted.

"awh, don't worry, pete," your hand stroked his cheek, taking in the softness of his skin. peter melted against the texture of your fingertips, enamoured by the tenderness and affection.

you pursued, "we've got forever to show to everyone that we belong to each other." and your head tilted to gaze at him in content, whispering,

"never forget that i'll be the one to hold you forever."

───✦

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[lokilickedme]

The Way

I’m writing horror again.  I guess it’s that time, you know, that time that has nothing to do with Halloween or the seasons or whatever, that time when it just hits me for some reason.  And just like I always do, I’ll say I don’t know why.

Even though I know why, and you know I know why.

Because the truth is always so much weirder and worse and more disquieting than any excuse I could make up for it, and sometimes I just feel the need.

Today I felt the need, and I couldn’t make it go away.

And so I sat down, and words I didn’t want to write were written.

.

8592 words I would rate this Mature 18+ if it was a fic, strictly because of the subject matter.

Warnings: Death, mostly.  Religious trauma, brief descriptions of abuse, mentions of mental illness, domestic violence, grief, familial dysfunction, religious abuse, emotional abuse, medical conditions, brief mentions of drug use/abuse, mild gore in reference to corpse decomposition, psychological unease and mild terror, child abuse (mental/emotional/psychological), brief allusion to physical child abuse, cult references, loss of faith, attempted murder, possible actual murder.

A Note:  I love you guys, you’re always so quick and willing to be helpful and offer advice and suggestions and such, and I adore that about you.  But on this piece of work I ask that nobody offer any theories about what happened to my brother - medical, criminal, or otherwise - and please no suggestions on things we could do to pursue investigation, that ship has long sailed.  It’s been 23 years and he’s a cold case.  We spent years trying to sort it out but in the end it’s just something that happened, and we moved on because we had to.  There are a lot of open ends, a lot of question marks, a lot of suspicious details that never connected to anything - and we tried, we truly did.  If anyone out there knows the truth, they’ve never shown themselves to us.  We do have our theories, but my brother was a secretive person living a life none of us knew about, and the people he knew weren’t people we knew.  Everyone involved is either dead or moved on or got away with whatever it was they did, and there are only three of us who still care.  It’s over.

Until today, I’ve never put these events into words.

It was something I needed to do, finally.

This is PART ONE.  There may not be a part two, unless doing this ends up making me feel better.

Please feel free to comment if you wish.  As you can see, pretty much nothing triggers me.  I just ask that you please refrain from the type of comments noted above.

And thank you.

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This is, regrettably, a true story.  Nothing has been changed but the names, because the dead don’t like being talked about, and James was just enough of a shit to haunt me for it.

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They made up their minds And they started packing They left before the sun came up that day An exit to eternal summer slacking But where were they going without ever knowing the way

They drank up the wine And they got to talking They now had more important things to say And when the car broke down They started walking Where were they going without ever knowing the way

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

Their children woke up And they couldn't find them They left before the sun came up that day They just drove off and left it all behind them But where were they going without ever knowing the way?

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today, today

- The Way, Fastball, 1998

.

That was the year James died in his sleep.

Or that’s what they say, anyway.  Asthma, the likely cause based on his medical history, our first and least disturbing assumption.  Undetermined, the official determination based on the hastily scraped-together autopsy, the best that could be done under the circumstances.  We tell people he had breathing problems, and they nod their heads and agree because they knew he did, and now he’s been gone so long that nobody asks.  Most of the people who ever met him have long moved on or disappeared or died themselves, or just remember him as the enigmatic middle son from the Keithley family that nobody really knew very well.  You know, the odd one, the one that showed up at meetings maybe once a year and smiled nervously but didn’t really talk to anyone and always seemed anxious to leave?  The one who died under mysterious circumstances?  That one.

He left the way he always came in.  Quietly, unexpected, without anyone being aware of either his entrance or his exit.

But me and mom know some things, and she’s not talking.  She probably never will.

So maybe it’s time I did.

December 1998.  I’d gotten married two years previous and moved back to the family land with my new husband.  He hated it there, but we had an affordable place to live.  It wasn’t bad.  He’d tell you otherwise.  The land never sat right with him, but I’d lived there too many years to see it.  I’d been fifteen when my father uprooted his large family from the city and hauled us out to the great back door to nowhere, and even though I’d left several times to wander elsewhere, I always came back.

I didn’t realize why at the time, at any of the multiple times.  But now I know.  That place gets you, and it holds you, and unless you’re goddamned devoted to staying gone you will always be pulled back.  It took me till I was 49 to funnel the necessary amount of devotion away from the religious dedication I’d had jackbooted into me and turn it toward getting out, but against a great number of overwhelming odds I finally did it.

But this isn’t about that, not yet anyway.  This is about my brother James, and how he went to sleep one night and found his own way out.

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It was snowing, had been for days, a bit unusual but not unheard of.  The part of the state we lived in was notorious for extended ice storms and we knew a bad one was coming, but until it hit we played in the snow like it was a gift and we were deprived children who knew it was all going to be taken away soon.  My brothers and I were adults but you wouldn’t know it, watching us sneak around in the woods staging elaborate commando attacks on each other.  James was the best of us, a stealth king who could stand in the middle of a room for an hour without a single soul seeing him.  Perception bias, he said.  Your brain ignores me because I obviously don’t belong, like those puzzles where you circle what’s wrong but it takes you forever to find them.

He crept around in the forest scaring the shit out of people, dropping his long tall self out of trees, appearing from nowhere to administer a well aimed snowball to the face of whoever happened to cross his path and then disappearing just as quickly.  We called him a wraith and it wasn’t a good natured jibe.  We meant it.  He made people nervous.  He was the stealthy kind of quiet you associate with danger, and he knew how to do things an average person doesn’t ever have any need to know.  It was a quiet cool that we admired him for, because none of the rest of us had it.

The religion we were raised in kept a tight lid on us, but me and James, we never really let it get into our bones.  We were the smart ones, in retrospect.  I went through the motions by force of habit and a sense of self preservation, doing what was expected and demanded of me, following the rules and making myself a perfect example of a young member of the church so I wouldn’t bring shame on the congregation and my family.  But mostly the congregation.  It was always more important than anything else.  And I had behaving down to an art form, but mostly when people were looking.  Usually also when they weren’t.

But sometimes, not quite.

And then I prayed for forgiveness about it later because God was supposed to forgive you if you asked him to, right?  The tenet of willful sin being unforgivable never took root with me even though that was what the church conditioned into us through fear and constant repetition.  They said it from the stage two nights a week and again on Sunday to hammer it home.  Two nights a week and again on Sunday my head silently disagreed.  God’s not like that.  And then I did the praying for forgiveness thing even though I knew I was right, because I was disagreeing with the church, and the church was God’s channel here on Earth, wasn’t it?  I committed a mortal sin at least three times a week on that subject alone, and though the dread of divine punishment was hardwired into me, I never could reconcile the concept of a loving and forgiving God destroying me simply for knowing better.

I’m not sure the comprehension of an overwatching deity ever actually established itself in James’ brain.  A moral code, yes.  But isn’t that what God is, really?  Maybe he understood more about God and forgiveness than the rest of us.  But he was considered an unapproved fringe member of the church because he couldn’t suffer people and noise and being looked at and he refused to preach, and he was soft-shunned as a result.  Because if you weren’t all in to the point of being willing to die at any moment for your faith, you were as good as faithless.

And faithless meant condemned.  And the congregation couldn’t be bothered with condemned people, regardless of their reasons for not having both feet in the water.  The first and only option on their list was to put the person out and let them find their own way back once they realized they had nobody left in the world who cared about them.

James escaped that somehow.  He was supposed to be shunned whole scale, but he wasn’t trying to convince anyone to leave the faith and he presented no threat to anyone’s strength of belief, and so far as anyone knew he’d committed no grave sins other than disinterest.  So the rule that dictated we cast him out was bent enough to allow him to remain living on the family land, though at one point during a fit of overzealous righteousness my mother had tried to have a family meeting to vote on whether or not we were going to let him stay.  I refused to vote and when I walked out of the house the meeting fell apart.

I’ve never forgiven her for that.  Her son’s life being put to a vote with her presiding over the proceedings, vengeful and unfeeling and devoid of compassion on behalf of God himself.  It takes my breath away, the anger, still to this day.  The only thing I ever truly learned from my mother about parenting was a long and intensely detailed list of what not to do to my own children, and I suppose I should be grateful for that.  It’s a bitter thank-you to have to give, but it’s something.

We knew James as much as he would allow us to, and not an inch further.  Which meant the extent of our knowledge of him pretty much stretched to include the singular fact that he was different.  What that meant, I still don’t really know - but it was there from the day he was born, that slight off-ness, the oddly off center calibration that you can’t really see so much as sense in a person.  I know now he was likely on the autism spectrum and he walked through life seeing and reacting to everything differently than most of us, but that wasn’t a thing back then.  You were just weird, or you weren’t.  And I’m not convinced that was a bad thing for him, strictly speaking.  But in the confines of our religion and our family’s devout and sometimes violent dedication to it, it took its toll almost daily.

He stood out, and he was very much a person who didn’t want to.  He wanted to fade into the background, to not be seen, to not be known.  And our religion didn’t tolerate that kind of nonsense, because we were commanded to be bold bearers of The Word Of God, and no exceptions were made.

None.

I’m going to stop calling it a religion now.  I beg your indulgence as I shift to calling it what it is, because calling it a religion is an insult to actual religions that don’t destroy peoples’ lives with callous indifference and murderous glee.

We were raised in a doomsday death cult.  There’s no other name that fits.

And we were trapped in it and its ugly cycle of neverending mental and emotional manipulation and abuse until we were adults, and some of us are still bound to it.  My oldest brother worked his way up to the upper levels of oversight in the local congregation and was solidly entrenched in it until his death, which is a story for later.  My youngest brother, the last remaining living blood sibling I have, is still deeply in it to this day and will likely never leave it.

I took the hard way out, three years ago, by walking away.

James, though.  He took the easy way.  He simply closed his eyes, and he was free.

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December 22, 1998.  Three days before Christmas, though that meant nothing to us.  The cult told us Christmas was a filthy demonic pagan ritual that was condemned by God, so to us the season was just a nice chilly time of year with lots of time off from work.  We’d had an unusual amount of snow, the most we’d had in years.  The roads were impassable and everyone was home except my husband, who worked close enough that his boss at the glass shop came and picked him up that morning with chains on his tires.  Lots of windshields had shattered from the sudden violent cold that had struck the previous night and Scott had the only glass shop for sixty miles.

I think it must have been around noon, and likely my mother had sent my dad up the hill to see if James wanted to come down for the lunch she was making.  He and his wife had split up against the strict rules of the church after a few years of suffering through an ill advised marriage, an important detail to this story that will come into the tale later, and he was alone up there at the top of the hill a lot.  Sometimes he forgot to eat, or he got so busy that he just didn’t bother, so our mother always made something for him because even though he was in his 20′s he was still a kid who needed looking after and her zealous fervor against him had died down with time.  I think he let her believe he was helpless because it worked in his favor and there was always lunch waiting for him in her kitchen as a result.

He was different, he wasn’t dumb.

We all lived on the hill back then with the exception of our youngest brother.  He’d moved to the city with his new wife not long prior.  The locals jokingly called the place a commune, and I guess they weren’t completely wrong.  Thirty-eight acres of wooded land far beyond the city limits that we’d painstakingly spent years carving a livable space into, with five houses, all built from the ground up and inhabited by an extended family of well known culties from a well known cult.  It’s almost comical, looking back on it, knowing now how they kept an eye on us for years to make sure we weren’t doing anything weird up there.

They should have run us off with pitchforks and burning stakes at the very beginning.

Things might have ended differently for us if they had.

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My grandparents lived at one end of the property, an old couple as simple and solid as salted soup, devoutly religious and devoted to the cult and very much cut from the can survive anything and probably will cloth like so many old country folks of their generation.  They were waiting out the end of days up there in their little wooden house, expecting the final hour of this old system to come long before their own demise.  I liked my grandmother, she had a sweet smile and fell asleep every time granddad started talking about the Bible and she paid me five dollars every Wednesday to drive her into town to get groceries, and years later, when she was dying, she told me she’d had a dream where she met my unborn son.  I was four months pregnant and didn’t know yet that I was having a boy.  She died before he was born, but to this day, fifteen years later, he tells me he’s sure he met her, he just can’t remember when.

I was scared of my grandfather.  Not terrified, but there was nothing grandfatherly to him and I always suspected he never actually liked kids much.  He’d once told us a story about the great Fort Worth flood that wiped out most of the city when my mom was a baby, and how he had told my grandmother to let go of my 2-year-old mother while he was struggling to get them across a rushing flooded creek in water up to their shoulders.  My grandmother couldn’t swim.  We could make another Ruthie, he said.  But I couldn’t get another ‘Nita.

He said it proudly, like he was to be admired for his choice.  I was young when he told that story, but it settled into me that this was evil.

Even when he was old as dirt and dying of a brain tumor in hospice care, he made me uneasy.  I was never close to him.  But for some reason, in his final days, he forgot who everyone was except me.  I had been living in another state for years and he hadn’t seen me since before the tumor started taking his life.  But when I walked into the room he turned his head and looked at me, and he mouthed my name.

He couldn’t speak.  I don’t know what he was trying to say, struggling with words that nobody could hear.  And I felt bad.  I didn’t want to be the last person he recognized.  My cousins adored him and had spent the last few years constantly at his side, and they were angry, maybe justifiably, that I was the one he reached for.

I didn’t want that at all.

I don’t believe he was a bad man, but he never spoke of anything except the cult’s interpretation of the Bible, and it was as tiresome as it was terrifying.  Granddads are supposed to be fun.  Ours quoted doctrine at us in a deep loud commanding voice that you couldn’t interrupt and you couldn’t tune out, and once he got going you had to just settle in and wait for him to run out of zealous steam.  And then he would suddenly stop and command grandmother to turn on a John Wayne movie and bring him some ice cream, and it was over until the next time.

I know my mother resented him.  She knew grandmother was the one that had refused to let her go, the one that had held onto her even though she almost drowned by the simple act of holding on.  She knew her father had been willing to let her wash away and drown.  That he thought she was interchangeable with whatever baby they would have next.  How she could spend her entire life with that knowledge and not be deeply affected by it was something that never made sense to me, but now, when she’s in her 70′s and I’m in my 50′s, I finally understand.  It affected her.  She’ll just be damned if she’ll let anyone see it.  And she had stood there in that hospice room watching him mouth my name with resentment burning in her eyes, though she would have rather died than let anyone know what it was for.  He’d forgotten her weeks ago.

The house in the center of the hill was mom and dad.  The homestead.  The house we’d all lived in together, that we’d built with our own hands, the first thing that marked that wild overgrown hill as a place where people actually lived.  A long path through the woods connected it to the grandparents’ house, and it was the epicenter of everything in our lives.  James and I had lived in the upstairs rooms of that house until we both moved out and married our respective mates years later, a reprehensible act on our part that was never okay with my mother and that she never forgave either of us for.  She’d wanted us all to stay.  We can all live here together until the New System comes, she always said.  That’s how the Bible says it’s supposed to be.  We can all keep each other safe and on the right path until the end comes, and then we’ll all be here together forever.

A decade later when I sat up on the hill watching that house burn to the ground, there was as much relief as grief billowing into the sky with the black smoke.  It was the end of an era, and it was far beyond time for it.

Nobody saw it but me.  James was dead, had been for years.  Robbie was dead now too.  Dad was gone, so was granddad.  Me and my youngest brother David were the last two left of the kids, but he had moved to a neighboring city when he got married and he has never seen things the way I see them.  We were of different generations, we weren’t raised the same way, and he’d never experienced the abuse I lived with for the first half of my life.  And he had dedicated his own life to the cult with all the honesty and lack of guile that I didn’t have when I’d made my own dedication vows at the too-young age of sixteen.

It was the end of an era, but apparently only for me.

James’ house was up the hill, past a clearing where my dad used to keep old cars that he cannibalized for parts.  Our oldest brother Robbie, long married with kids of his own, lived at the bottom on the farthest corner of the land.  And my house was on the slope to the west, built on the spot where we’d cleared off an old half-fallen homestead from the late 1800′s, dutifully paying no mind to the fact that a grave was nestled into the slope, right where the yellow daffodils grew.  The cult told us superstition was tied up with the demons and false religion, so we didn’t have the built-in human instinct that tells most people to stay the hell away from certain things.

We just pretended it wasn’t there, and put no importance on it.  It was just an old grave.  The soil was good and the garden I planted next to it did well, though those strange daffodils always wound themselves through everything I put in the ground.  My husband said something wasn’t right about it, but I didn’t pay any attention to him.  He hadn’t been raised as devout as me.

My dad knocked on my door around lunchtime and I opened it.  He backed up, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, the fancy leather coat the dealership had awarded him when he was designated a five-star Chrysler technician and given the state’s first and only license to work on the new Vipers that had recently rolled off the prototype line.  It was a cool jacket.  Made him look like the old pictures my other grandmother had shown me of him from the early 1960′s, when he was young and very much a product of a fancier era.  He’d never stopped greasing his hair back and was still so thin that he and I wore the same size jeans.

I’ve never understood the look on his face when I opened the door.  To this day I can’t sort it.  It wasn’t a blankness like so many people who’ve seen death wear without awareness.  It wasn’t grief.  It wasn’t even shock.

He was sorry.

Those were the first words out of his mouth.

I’m sorry.

I stood there, not knowing what he was sorry for.  It was cold.  I couldn’t push the screen door open very far because of the snow blocking it.  And my father was standing at the bottom of the steps James had helped my husband build, his hands shoved down far into his pockets like a penitent child about to get in trouble, telling me he was sorry.

James is dead, he finally said.  He’s in his house.  I went up there and he’s dead.

I didn’t realize it at the time, but I do now - just now, this very moment in fact, I know that I was the first person he told.  He came straight from James’ house to mine and told me my brother was dead.

I don’t know what I said back to him, I just remember sitting down on the top step and feeling the cold bite of the snow through my pajama pants.  There’s a vague recollection of putting my face in my hands, and the embarrassing knowledge that I did that simply because I didn’t know what else to do.  And dad just stood there, nervously stepping from foot to foot in the snow, because he didn’t know what else to do either.

I think I asked How at some point.  He said he didn’t know.  He had something in his pocket but to this day I don’t know what it was.

I don’t know if it was important.  Something tells me it was.  Or maybe it was just the eternally present handkerchief he always kept on him.

I’m sorry, he said again.  He seemed to feel like it was his fault somehow.  I’m sorry.

What do we do?  I asked him.  I’ve never felt more blank.  What are we supposed to do?

I don’t remember what he said, other than he was going to get my older brother.  I remember thinking that was a good idea.  Robbie would know what to do.  He always did.  Brash and blustery and bigmouthed, he got things done while other people stood around debating how to do them.  He would get on it, whatever needed doing.  He would figure it out.

I went back in the house and dad walked away, headed down the path through the woods that connected my house to Robbie’s, hands still shoved deep in his pockets, the big retro vintage Chrysler emblem on the back of his jacket the last thing I saw before I pulled the screen door shut.  I stared down for a minute at the mound of snow it had scooped into my livingroom, still with no clue what I was supposed to do.

No clue at all.

I kicked the snow back outside and shut the door.

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It’s an odd thing, watching the coroner’s van drive away with someone you know inside it.  Someone you saw just yesterday.  Someone who was alive.  Someone who should still be alive but isn’t, somehow.  And since there’s really no way to earn a ride in a coroner’s van without dying, there’s an awful unsettling sensation to it that you can’t get away from.  The last time I saw James he was laughing that devious little laugh of his, his eyes red and bloodshot from the ever present asthma he’d suffered with his entire life.  I don’t count the sight of the coroner’s van leaving the hill via our long steep driveway with his cold corpse tucked into a black zippered bag, because I didn’t see him.  I never saw him.  I didn’t see him dead in his house and I didn’t see them carry him out, I didn’t see them put him in the van.  I didn’t see him later, when it was all over with.  And if I try hard enough I can imagine that van empty, with that long black bag tossed crumpled in the back without a body in it, and James somewhere else living his life however the hell he pleases.

I hold onto that.  Some days it helps.  And some days I think I see him, walking by the side of the road or getting out of a car in the post office parking lot, and it makes me happy thinking he escaped.  I see him in every hitchhiker, in every wandering traveler making his way down the interstate, in every tall thin man I glimpse from the corner of my eye as I go about my business in town.

He’s out there.

I hope he’s happy.

The ice storm hit the next day.

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For the next two weeks we were stuck on our hill.  Power out, no electricity, no heat, no lights, roads iced over and impassable.  We all piled up in mom and dad’s house, quietly grieving James, trying to stay warm.  Most of the state lost power for days, including the city 150 miles away where his body had been taken to the state coroner’s office.  There was no apparent cause of death, so the state ordered an autopsy.

His body had just been placed into cold storage to wait its turn when the power grid went down.  And then, by some unholy stroke of nightmarish luck, the facility’s generators failed.

Nobody could make it in to work because of the ice.  By the time someone finally got into the morgue the cold storage had been down for four days.

Six bodies melted, including James.

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No viable autopsy could be done, though they tried their best I suppose.  The end report was obtained two months later.  It was mostly inconclusive due to the long delay and resultant decomposition of tissue.  There was apparent scarring on James’ heart, but it was old scarring and had nothing to do with his death.  His lungs were scarred as well, but that was no surprise, he’d had severe asthma his entire life.  There was no determinable cause of death, no inflicted trauma, no presence of illicit drugs as far as they could tell from the limited toxicology report they managed with what they had to work with.

No reason.

He’d simply died.

It seemed fitting, to me at least, that the end of him be enshrouded in an unsolvable mystery.  He was a secretive person, intensely private.  He would have loved knowing nobody had a clue what happened to him.

And so we drew our own conclusion as a family.  He’d had an asthma attack in his sleep.  There had been an inhaler next to his bed, but it was new and still in the box.  He simply hadn’t woken up to use it.  Dad didn’t participate in the drawing of this conclusion, his input kept stoically to himself, like he knew something the rest of us didn’t.

We pretended not to see it.

He and mom braved the last of the ice a few days later to make the 150 mile drive to see James one last time.

They came back different.

You couldn’t tell it was him, my mother said.  He was melted, literally.  It was like one of those science fiction movies where they melt you with a laser beam and you turn to goo.

Dad had nothing to say.  He went to bed and stayed there until the next day.

You can go see him, mom told me.  I’ll go with you if you want to go.  But I don’t recommend it.

I decided not to go.

And so I never saw my brother dead.  I never saw any proof that he was gone.  He just wasn’t there anymore.  There was no funeral, he was cremated and his ashes were sent home weeks later, and I went on with my life with the image in my head of James, alive, somewhere else.

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Dad was different from that day on.  He’d always been stoic, terse, strict.  My childhood had been spent in fear of him, an eternal dread of making him mad and feeling his temper erupt keeping me from showing any hint of a personality during my formative years.  The cult had forced him to abide by the violent tenet of Spare the rod, spoil the child and there was never any risk of me being spoiled.

James being gone flipped a switch in him.  He was nicer suddenly.  Mellow.  Kind.  After the trauma wore off his humor discovered itself and he was funny.  The dour angry demeanor fell off and revealed a man that I was sad never to have known before.  He and I became friends.  I could sense in his new attitude toward me that he regretted how he’d raised me and respected the way I’d always stood up and been my own person despite it.  But my mother was falling off the deep end and for all the newfound easygoingness of my father, she counterbalanced it with an extremism born of the religious fervor of a mother determined to gain enough favor with God to see her dead child again.  And she was going to make sure the rest of us did too.

We all had to get good and straight on the path, get completely right and stay that way, or we’d never see James again.  He’d be in the New World and we wouldn’t, and how would she explain that to him?  She and I worked together in a law office at the time and as she became more unhinged and unpleasant, I reacted by becoming more outgoing and accomplished.  Our boss changed my work designation from receptionist to Executive Assistant and started teaching me how to do everything from filing papers at the courthouse to photographing accident scenes.  I no longer answered to my mother, the office manager.  I answered directly to the boss.

That didn’t go over well.  She was a control freak with heavy untreated trauma, and the one person in the world she felt the most obsessive need to control was suddenly no longer under her thumb in a workspace where she considered herself the supreme authority.  She countermanded every order the boss gave me and tried to load me up with general office chores that left me no time to do the important assignments he’d given me.  I had no choice but to tell her she wasn’t my superior anymore.

She chose that day to have her nervous breakdown over James, jumping out of my car at a red light on the way home and storming angrily through a shopping mall with me trailing frantically along behind her, yelling for security to arrest me while I tried to get her to calm down.  I ended up telling her she wasn’t the only person who lost James but that none of the rest of us were allowed to experience our own grief because we were too busy catering to hers.

She sat down on a bench outside the sporting goods store and glared at me with a cold hatred I’ve seen on very few other faces, ever.

I knew it would be you, she hissed at me.

That moment changed our relationship forever.  It changed me forever.  That was the day I decided my life was my own, that she not only didn’t have authority over me at work, she didn’t have authority over me anywhere else either.  She could no longer dictate my actions, my behavior, my thoughts and feelings.

For this she disowned me.  It was the first of several disownings over the next few years.  I got used to it.  We went to work the next day like nothing had happened, and I didn’t do a single thing on the task list she slapped down on my desk.  It was a metaphor for the rest of my life, but I didn’t know it yet.

My husband and I moved out of state a couple of months later, away from that hill, away from her increasingly controlling paranoia and bitterness, the first of many small steps toward freedom.

As we were driving away with our trailer full of personal belongings behind us, he said one thing that I tried to argue against, but that somewhere deep inside I knew was probably right.

That land is cursed, he said.

----------

A few weeks before we moved my youngest brother came to town and we went into James’ house together.  It was exactly like it had been the day my dad found him.  The only thing that stood out as different was the bare mattress on the bed - the men from the coroner had wrapped him up in the sheet he’d been laying on and took it with them, leaving just the naked springform mattress James had bought for Jessica right before her final breakdown and their subsequent separation.

It took me a while to go in the bedroom, but I knew from the moment I walked into the house that I was going to end up there.  I needed to see it, the place where James had closed his eyes and left us.

There was a small puddle of dried blood near the foot of the bed, brown and stained into the fabric.  James always slept backwards, with his head at the wrong end.  The blood had come from his nose.

I touched it.  I don’t know why.  It was dry.

He was gone.

----------

David and I laughed a lot that day.  James had been funny in a way that was distinctly him, quiet and of few words, but those words had always counted.  And as we sorted through his things and talked about him and moved some of his stuff into boxes to be stored away, I felt as much awed respect as befuddlement at what was around me.  He’d never been a conformist, which I knew was why the cult had never gotten a firm grasp on him.  He was unknowable and therefore unbindable.  But his house was proof that he didn’t conform to any human expectations either, and nothing in it made sense unless you’d spent time around him.

There was an engine in the bathtub.  I’m not sure what it went to.  Another engine, in the beginning stages of disassemblage, rested on a blue tarp in the center of the livingroom floor, obviously the last project he’d been working on.  There wasn’t much furniture - his wife had taken most of it when she left and it would have never entered his mind to replace any of it.  Jessica’s cookware was in the kitchen cabinets, unused, some of it still in the original boxes, some not even fully unwrapped from their wedding shower years before.  Jessica didn’t cook, she microwaved.  David asked me if I thought it would be okay for him to take a glass Pyrex measuring cup because he’d broken his.  I told him to take it.  It had never been used.

I didn’t want anything, but knew I needed to take something.  One of my husband’s solo CDs was sitting on the entertainment center and the cover, the cover I’d designed, caught my eye and brought me to the CD player to pop the tray open.

Inside was a CD single of The Way.

It was the only thing I took.

----------

My husband told me some time later that my dad and older brother had altered the scene before the police arrived.  After the phonecall from me his boss had rushed him home and he’d gone up to James’ house without my knowledge.  He’d thought it strange that he’d had to step around at least a dozen empty compressed air cans scattered haphazardly around the place as he entered, like they’d been used and tossed aside one after another.  There had been several more on the floor around the bed.  My father had told him to go back down and see how mom and I were doing, and when he returned to James’ house after the coroner’s departure, the cans were gone.  Other than that he said things seemed different, but he couldn’t say quite how.  Just not the same.

He told me my dad didn’t call the police until after he and Robbie had been in there at least an hour, alone with the body.

It’s not something we’ve talked about often, because there’s no satisfactory explanation for it that either of us can come up with.  My mother says they probably didn’t want the police to assume the cans meant he was huffing compression fluid and accidentally killed himself, because Look at the shame and reproach that would bring on the congregation if anyone thought such a thing!  We all knew he used the compressed air to clear the valves on the engines he was working on, all mechanics do, it’s common.  Wouldn’t the police have accepted that explanation?  Dad was the only one that spoke to them.  They wrote down whatever he said, and then they left, and then the coroner came and took James away and that was that.  My father, the most upright straight-and-narrow devoutly dedicated man I’ve ever known in my life, misled the police for a reason that he took with him to his own grave.

The only other person in the world who knew the truth about it took it to his grave too.

At the same time.

In the same car.

Four years later, on October 18, 2002.

----------

The big garbage bag of empty air cans and whatever else that was removed from James’ house that morning had been stashed in my dad’s garage and stayed there until a few weeks after he and Robbie’s joint funeral, when my mother asked my husband’s old boss to come and dispose of it.  Scott was a man who knew people who could do things.

The evidence, whatever it was evidence of, vanished.

----------

The mystery around James never dissolved and eventually no one talked about it anymore, I guess because there was no way we could ever truly find out what happened without him here to tell us.  There were a lot of details that we could never find a way to weave together into anything that made sense and a lot of it was probably inconsequential anyway.  There was a girlfriend that he’d tried to keep hidden from us, a woman that was quite a bit older than him who wasn’t a member of the cult and therefore needed to be kept a secret.  In the end she had convinced him to stop hiding their relationship and he’d bought her a ring.  We met her all of twice before he died, and within days of his passing she left town with her brother and never came back, taking whatever she might have known with her.

James’ ex Jessica had sneaked onto the hill and broken into his house to put a dead raccoon in his kitchen sink a few days prior to his death.  We were shocked when he told us she trespassed on the land often without anyone knowing, and my mother made my father fix the electric gate down at the road so that it wouldn’t open without one of three clickers in the possession of herself, my father, and me.  James would have to come to her house and get hers any time he needed to leave the hill, an arrangement he agreed to because Jessica stole things from his house all the time, she would absolutely take a gate opener if she saw it.

He told us the gate wouldn’t keep her out though, and that she didn’t come in that way anyway.  The only way to protect ourselves from her was to lock her up and he doubted even that would do it.

He died less than a week later, and twenty three years later we still don’t know how or why.

----------

We never felt safe on the hill again.  Jessica was deranged in the worst possible way, we’d known it for a while, and James was her obsession.  She’d threatened to kill him multiple times and had tried twice.  We hadn’t known this, because James, big strong stoic Clint Eastwood type that he was, wasn’t about to tell anyone he was violently abused for years by a skinny little woman that everyone believed was not much more than a meek dormouse with shyness issues and a case of painful awkwardness.  But we knew she was evil.  We just didn’t have any proof.

The first thing my mother said after the initial emotional breakdown of finding her son dead was Jessica did this, I don’t know how but I know she did it.

I believe she was probably right.  But if Jessica was anything she was wily and devious with a strong survival instinct and an uncanny ability to lie convincingly and draw sympathy onto herself.  She’d convinced us for years that she was the perfect combination of sweetly harmless and endearingly clueless, but that only lasted until the day she called 911 screaming that James was beating her and then threw herself face first into a tree in their front yard and sat, calmly singing and coloring in a coloring book on the porch with blood running down her forehead, waiting for the police to arrive.  The act she put on when they got there was one for the Academy, but the officers didn’t buy it.

James calmly rolled up his sleeves and showed them his scars where she’d burned him and slashed him with a kitchen knife.  He pulled up his shirt and pointed out the marks she’d left on him with her teeth and nails.  He hooked a finger into his mouth and showed them the empty hole where she’d knocked one of his teeth out with a baseball bat.  One of the officers asked him why he hadn’t killed her and buried her somewhere on the land already.

She left in the back of the squad car, and my mother took James to the courthouse to get divorce papers started two days later.

Jessica came to his memorial service when we finally had it, several weeks after his death.  She wasn’t invited but we couldn’t keep her from coming.  She wore black like a widow and created a dramatic disruption complete with loud wailing and declarations of undying love, and afterward she stood to one side of the room, smirking at us with the kind of icy malice that you only see on the dangerously deranged, and then usually only in the movies.  Several people commented in hushed voices, asking why she’d been allowed to come.  At one point she started wailing They killed him!!, but everyone with the exception of her mother ignored her.

Her mother, who was still in our congregation, flitted around the room chatting with everyone, sobbing her heart out like it was her own son we’d just memorialized.  She was an ER nurse and had been famously fired from her job at the hospital for taking locked-cabinet medications home by the purse load.  She claimed she put them in her pocket to use on her shift and forgot to return them to the cabinet before leaving.

Jessica had been staying with her for a while.

----------

We fed the crowd at mom’s later that afternoon with my husband and his boss guarding the gate, making sure she didn’t try to come into my mother’s house.  The police were called preemptively, and because this was a town of 300 with not much of anything else to do, a squad car was dispatched and stationed near the inlet to the main drive.

Jessica showed up not much later, like we knew she would.  She drove past the police and parked a few yards down from them in plain sight, just sitting there by the side of the road, far enough away from our property that we couldn’t legally do anything about it.  The officers got out and talked to her, warned her not to cause us any problems, and she fed them a woeful tale about being banned from her beloved husband’s memorial service and denied the right to say goodbye to him.

The officers knew there was no body at that service to say goodbye to.  They also knew her.

My husband came up the hill and told us she was down at the road and that Scott was blocking the driveway with his truck to keep her out.  I told my mother it was time to file a restraining order against her.  She was living in fear and Jessica was known to be trespassing on our property frequently.  No, she told me with tears in her eyes but not a sign of distress on her face.  It was a look I knew, because my mother rarely showed emotion unless she was angry and the rest of the time it was this cold detachment.  That would bring reproach on the congregation because everyone knows what we are.  I can’t do that.  I won’t let her win that way.  I won’t let her cause us to bring shame on God’s name.

God’s name.  I took it in vain that day.

More than once.

I was leaving in a few weeks, moving a thousand miles away.  My husband and I weren’t going to be there to help her keep an eye out, and thirty eight acres of heavily wooded land is impossible to protect and easy to sneak onto from a hundred different directions, James had shown us proof of that.

God will protect us as long as we do the right thing and leave it to him, she said.  He knows what she is.

I think it was just a coincidence that nothing terrible happened in the following weeks, because my faith was getting tenuous and a lot of prayers were going unanswered.  But Jessica quietly disappeared back to her own world after a couple of infuriating weeks of putting herself in our paths every chance she got, and not long after that my husband and I moved away, and as we left the driveway for what we thought would be the last time he sighed and shook his head with the exasperation of a man about to say I told you so.

“That land is cursed,” he said.

I tried to disagree, though I don’t know why.

----------

Less than a mile up the road we passed a man walking.  He was tall and thin and covered in the dust of a long journey with a ratty backpack strapped to his back, and as we passed him I caught his reflection in the side mirror.

It was James, I knew it in my heart every bit as strongly as I knew it couldn’t be.

He was walking away from the hill, toward the west.  The way we were going.  And I swear on whatever holy relic you wish to place under my hand that he raised his head and met eyes with me in the mirror, and he smiled.

.

Anyone can see the road that they walk on is paved in gold And it's always summer They'll never get cold They'll never get hungry They'll never get old and gray You can see their shadows wandering off somewhere They won't make it home But they really don't care They wanted the highway They're happier there today

.

[efkgirldetective]

~part V~ { part I & part II & part III & part IV }

thank you thank you to the anon who sent in this prompt! 💗💗💗

book + cerulean + passion

“Don’t have too much fun while we’re off, yeah?”

“Never, Padfoot, we—”

“Head Girl? Can you reassure?”

“Former Head Girl, mind you—”

“Sirius, honest to Merlin, we’re so, so late, and you know how Moody gets, he’ll have our—”

“—bollocks, yeah, had the exact same and shuddering thought, dearest—”

“—amount of calling me dearest can make up for that image, fuck’s sake—Pete? We’re near—”

“I’ve been ready, Remus!” Peter exclaims, springing indignantly from his seat on the sofa. “Been sat right bloody here, reading a book while you lot argue on and on about ‘oh, do you have the coordinates, or do I?’ Honestly, could’ve read through Hogwarts a bloody History frontward and backward, already!”

James grins at the exasperated trio, puffy-coated and scarf-wrapped and leaving not thirty minutes after they ought to have left. Between his wide-leg lean at the kitchen counter, Lily calls out, “Be safe, okay?” Sirius accios his wand all the way from down the hall, quite nearly missing the tawny tuft of Peter’s hair—“And be polite!”

“Polite, Evans, honest?” James tucks into her sweet-smelling hair. “Like Moody wants politeness, not moxie or gall or some imposing four-syllable word that escapes me at the moment.”

Lily pinches the skin of his arm.

“See you for dinner, yeah?” Sirius is calling back. “Right chuffed for steak pies—”

“Black!”

“Oh, for—coming, coming!”

Peter’s aggravated scowl is the last thing they see, the babble of Remus and Sirius floating down the hall, disappearing behind the closed door.

“If we’re going to be parents,” Lily says, running her hands along James’, wrapped round her waist, “We ought to start practicing, no?”

James laughs, sweeping her hair away and leaning down to kiss her neck. He contemplates the skin, a small pair of freckles marking the place where neck and shoulder meet. He thinks of their furtive trip to the fertility clinic earlier in the day; how the charms glimmered cerulean over Lily’s stomach, her hand gripping his tightly as the Healer surveyed her vitals, told them how healthy the baby—their baby—looked, inside, just about ten weeks along and growing so well. James took it all in as if from afar; heart beating out of his body, sense of place, of home, tied so firmly to Lily’s five-fingered hold on him; how her eyes shone with nervous excitement as she looked at him from the examination table—red hair a stark contrast to such a sterilized room. She whispered, “Okay?” and squeezed his hand. He nodded, bent to kiss her forearm, unable to find words for how he felt; an overflowing of love that left him just as tethered as it left him unmoored.

In the kitchen, he tries to make sense of the paradox: how he might be sinking for all his unruly, anxious fears—and at the same time buoyant, near-weightless in pride, in joy. He bends his cheek to the freckles and blinks slowly. “You’re going to be such a good mum.”

She sighs, turns in his arms. Happy and healthy and growing. “If you let go of any absurd dream involving an infant Quidditch player,” she murmurs, hands winding up his chest and neck, “then I know you’ll make a really wonderful dad.”

Though he is unwilling and unable to let go of hope for an infant Quidditch player, he makes no mention—he leans forward and kisses her cleanly, slowly, letting the overflow transmute into tenderness, deliberate and ebbing; Lily responds in kind, threading his hair through her fingers, some soft urgency sounding in the back of her throat. Her body melts closer, thin pink cardigan letting him know just how little she’s wearing beneath—and is unsurprised, given the turmoil surging inside, that need floats so easily to the top; skimmed out of overwhelming affection, of the delicate knowing that their bodies, together, created.

And the idea of when that might have been—when it happened, in any of the jumbled and run-together instances of love, of impatience, of time-taken and stolen and stretched out and yearned for—eats at James, digs at him—merges with the feeling of limbs lethargic on his, her lips moving from chin to jaw to neck and loitering, heatedly, on his throat. “When—” he begins, short on breath, hands moving up her back, under the thin fabric, finding the warm skin of her back—“when do you think it happened?”

Lily hums into his neck, nipping gently. “When what happened?”

He laughs, ruefully, fingers pressing into the curve of her hips. Closes his eyes to her hair. “Er, the conception.”

“The conception?” Lily emerges from his neck, laughing, too, lips pulled apart in mirth. “What, we're religious, now?”

“Well, it’s the technical term, Lils—would you rather I call it procreation?”

Lily groans, “Oh no, that’s far worse—so detached and impersonal,” she steals a long and wandering kiss. “Hardly what I feel when you’re inside of me, moving.”

"Oh, fucking hell—" James kisses her, can’t help it—and again, and again. “Really, though, semantics aside—” he moans, and she kisses him again, still laughing—“I want to know when you think it happened, is all.”

Leaning back from him, and really looking at him clearly, Lily lets her smile fall into something smaller; something like a smirk. “Alright, well,” she exhales, thinking, hands falling from his hair down his shoulders—and slowly, slowly, down his arms, pausing at the sleeves of his shirt. “It had to have been two months ago, or so,” she muses, eyes meandering from their lean to the expanse of kitchen counter behind them, the oven and the hob. “Maybe, it was just there, over the...” her eyes turn back to him, aglimmer.

James swallows deliberately, tilts his chin upward; takes a short moment to compose himself. It hardly works. “Evans,” he articulates, slowly. She laughs, fingers slipping, rounding his biceps; an insufferable squeeze, and stroking.

“I imagine an act of such passion could surely lead to conception,” she stands on tiptoes, finds his ear, nips at the lobe, “don’t you agree?”

For this he has only one long, breathless moan—the memory of a night without housemates, a shared bottle of wine; her breath so soft and wanting as they necked in the kitchen, necking that turned— near instantly—into a clamor of hands under and tugging at clothes, lips on necks, whimpers and gasping and an oh, Merlin, please as he sunk to his knees and fixed his tongue between her legs— which led, inevitably, to a growing plea for more and more now; to her impatient keening as he grappled with her skirt and knickers, his own pants barely pushed aside before he pressed inside, hard and leaking, half-gone and humbled at her neck, her shoulder—her sweet gasping James what took him clear over the edge, right there in the kitchen, adjacent the hob; her hips tight in his hands, legs shaking madly under his.

And in the same kitchen her mouth connects to his softening breath, drinking it down, knowing. “Or,” she continues, “perhaps that time in the en suite, when not five minutes in you—”

“Jesus fuck,” James interrupts, voice high and reedy—a sound that changes, and breaks, as Lily swivels her hips over his—“Hadn’t seen you for three days, you can’t just—it was—”

“I wasn’t complaining, though, was I, love?” she laughs into his mouth. “Especially not when you said such nice things with your tongue, afterward.”

"That made up for it?"

"More than made up for it, darling."

He smiles, quietly, and slips his hands down the warmth of her back, round her thighs, and lifts, jostling her into his arms. Lily tightens her grip on him, presses a kiss to his neck. “Could’ve been any one of the times you’ve fucked me senseless into our bed,” she muses. “Oh, excuse me—our premarital bed.”

“Thank you,” James says, “for acknowledging our unwed sin.”

Their bodies sway forward as he pushes up off the counter and staggers, indiscriminately, toward the bedroom, urged on by her burgeoning moan. “You know, I—” he tries, fixing her weight against a doorframe, finding it near impossible to speak around her suddenly desperate kiss, the sparring of tongues—“I just think—”

“—do tell me what you think—”

“—that talking about this was a shit idea.”

“Shit idea? No, really?”

“Really,” James repeats, short on breath and having stumbled from the door right into their bedroom, replete with purported sin. “Because all this talk of conception has me thinking—”

“All this thinking,” Lily whines into his ear, tongue swirling, dangerous. “You’ll hurt yourself, Potter.”

James lays her down on the bed, laughing; hair scattering and soft, cardigan pulled taut at the buttons, a flush of red spreading down her neck. She bites her lip as he leans back, looks at her.

“Thinking of...?” she prompts, fingers fall down his forearms, stroking.

“Of everything that leads up to conception,” he clarifies, swallowing, dipping his face into the swells of her breasts, nuzzling; lifting her sweater up enough to find her belly. His touch slows, gentle as it traces down the skin, as his mouth bends to kiss, slowly, like she is some delicate thing. He turns his face, lets his cheek rest against the center. Closes his eyes. “Hi, baby.”

Lily clambers onto elbows and reaches a hand through his hair. “Baby says hi back.”

James lifts his head. “Oh, you can hear the baby?”

“Yes,” she says, fingers moving across his brow, down his cheek, feeling the indent of his grin. “We’ve a telepathic connection.”

“And what’re they saying, now?”

“Mmm,” she hums. “Saying it’s alright if mum and dad want a bit of a shag, they’ll close their eyes.”

His laughter precedes his body, coming over her, weight shifting down. Her hands latched to the exposed skin of his neck. A gentle kiss between. Pulling and yearning, like yarn. The center, a knot, growing stronger.

Lily weaves her legs around his waist. Breaks gently from his mouth. “When do you think it happened?”

The question is considered, serious and slow, in the nape of her neck; in the pink plane of her cheek; in a blinking, unbroken stare. James lets the world settle down into the space of the bed and their bodies. Answers, eventually, with a tensed forehead, a hand gentle along her thigh. “If this came to be...because of an intention to love you as much and as long as I can,” he murmurs, “then it could’ve been any one of those times.”

She exhales, and he takes the same air as his breath.

He dips toward her mouth, quietly. “Any time at all.”

Lily makes a small sound, pulls down his lips—and of course he can feel their love growing, still, even in the quiet of the room. If he is to drown and float, all at once, then let it be like this; in warm and gentle waters, fixed to the tide of their hearts.

#jily #fic #drabble #i think there will only be one more of these?? #& then maybe it's a little oneshot?? #this has become more involved than i anticpated #& if that isn't a metaphor for how i approach writing & literally everything else #then i don't know what a metaphor is

[ihearthes]

Golden Rod

(inspired by Golden MV)

Author: @ihearthes Pairing: Harry x Reader Insert (2nd person) Rating: Smut (18+ only) Word Count: 2829

“Thanks for the ride, Ryan!” you call, waving at Lambert’s assistant as he drives away to the garages on the Vesta. “Ciao!” 

Excited to show Harry your new lingerie, you enter the villa where the team has been staying. “Is he done for the day, Ben?” The words are muffled behind the cloth mask you’ve insisted is essential despite the drop in Italy’s coronavirus cases. 

The Fulwell 73 producer points upstairs without a word before bending over the video footage he’s scouring with the director. The opulent surroundings have been modernized, and you grin while mounting the stairs to the top floor where the master suite consumes the entire space. From the expansive open windows, you view the Tyrrhenian Sea, causing you to literally pinch yourself. How had life blessed you in such a way? Giddy, you continue up the stone steps.

Kicking off your sandals, you curl your toes into the cool, smooth tile. Fuck. This had been the perfect day. Swimming in the infinity pool during the morning with endless fresh fruits at your fingertips whenever you stepped out of the water to feel the warm sun on your skin. A socially distanced lunch of Insalata Di Mare Campanese (Seafood Salad) with Molly in a local restaurant. A trip to the stores with the adorable stylist Ryan -- where he’d introduced you to a new designer of gloriously sexy lingerie! 

You’d bought four pieces. 

Harry was going to love all of them, and you couldn’t wait to showcase them in your own private fashion show on the secure top floor of the Italian villa. 

Stopping in the marbled bathroom, you draw in a deep breath at the chill on your heated feet. Quickly, you wash your hands, singing “Happy Birthday” twice like you’d been taught to ensure 20 seconds has elapsed. No way were you going to be responsible for inadvertently passing along the virus to your boyfriend during the Golden music video shoot. He’d end up missing out on filming the music video and the upcoming Don’t Worry Darling if he tested positive. Carefully removing your mask, you toss it into the laundry hamper before washing your hands a second time. 

Tiptoeing out of the bath, you wonder where the man of the hour might be. Napping? Nope. Not in the bed. On the loggia, you spy Harry settled in a chair, staring into space. 

“Can’t blame you, Styles. That’s one hell of a view.” Gazing over the colorful boats moored in the sea near the coast, your eyes feast on the sky with its tints of reds, pinks, yellows, and oranges as the sun begins to sink into the water. Honestly, you expect to hear a sizzle as the bright ball of gases descends into the blue serenity of the sea. 

“Indeed.” His quiet voice doesn’t sound normal for Harry, and you approach slowly, like one might a wounded deer. Wouldn’t want to frighten him away. 

“Harry!” The gasp leaves your throat, and you press your hand to your mouth to capture the sound too late as it has already escaped. “What the hell happened to your knee?”

He shrugs, finally glancing in your direction. “Skinned it. Hi, love. Did you have a good day?”

“I had a beautiful day, but what the fuck did you do to your knee?” Crouching down, you examine the spot where blood is flowing. It’s not an overwhelming amount, but enough that you want to clean it. “My poor baby,” you coo, “Let me clean that for you.”

Rising, you glide to the bathroom again. 

“Bring some ice too, love,” he requests, tacking on a “please” at the last minute. 

Stopping in the suite’s tiny kitchen, you search the small freezer for ice as requested. Ransacking the cabinets in the bathroom, you manage to locate cotton balls, an antiseptic, and a bandage. Returning to Harry, you kneel at his feet. “This might sting a bit.” Cautiously, you cover the cotton ball with the antiseptic and press it to his wound. 

He winces, but the only sound he releases is a mild hiss. 

“Sorry, baby.”

“It’s not a big deal, love.”

As the blood vanishes with its absorption into the cotton ball, you agree with him. The wound is relatively minor. Should form a scab in the next day or so. Carefully, you remove the adhesive from the bandage and press it over the small scratch. 

“Don’t worry, darling,” you tease, “you’ll heal soon enough.”

“Gonna run that one into the ground, aren’t you?” he jokes. 

“Might as well,” your shrug, grinning. “Don’t worry, H. You’re so golden.” His smile gives away his mirth at the pun. “Soon enough, you’ll be done filming, and moving on to something else. And I’ll give you hell about whatever the next thing is too.”

“I’d expect nothing less,” he confesses with intense eye contact, and your insides start to flutter. 

As an afterthought, you hold up a bag of frozen peas. “No ice, H. I’m so American that I forgot Europeans don’t do much ice. Will this do?”

“Sure.” Grabbing the bag of peas, he smirks before placing it on his crotch. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Your dick needs ice?”

His eyes rake over you. “Kind of went running without an athletic supporter today.” 

Planting your hands on your hips, you glare at him. “Why would you damage the goods like that?”

Raising his shoulders, he grins, “The fans will love it.”

Your lower lip juts out as you pout at him. “Does that mean it’s off limits to me?”

“It’s sore, love. Not broken.” Harry emphasizes, but that doesn’t make you feel any better. 

“But I’ve got lingerie,” you state clearly. 

He sits up quickly, shifting the bag of frozen peas on his crotch. “You do?”

“Yep.” You allow the ‘P’ to pop. “Ryan introduced me to a new designer. I bought four sets.”

“Fuck,” he breathes. 

“Not with your dick wounded,” you remind him with a tiny hitch in your breathy voice. 

“Fuck,” he repeats. 

“Should I model the first one or wait until tomorrow?” You’re definitely pushing the envelope here, yet how dare he give fans priority to his most precious bits?!

Eyes darkening, he sweeps his gaze over your light trousers and loose shirt. “Ummmm...now please.”

“Are you sure? Wouldn’t want you to hurt your dick more.”

The exasperated roll of his eyes makes you smile. “I wanna see, love.” 

Examining him, you come to the conclusion that he’s an adult and knows what he wants. With a nod, you grasp the handle of the bag from the designer. “Be right back!” Hurrying to the bedroom, you set the bag down before rummaging in it for the most sedate look: a white lacy baby doll bit that hits mid-thigh and comes with a long peignoir. Putting on frilly high heeled slipper with it, you strut in front of him with the robe tightly covering your body, watching as his eyes darken. 

“Like this one?”

“Shit, love. It’s…” 

When you part the edges to reveal the concoction underneath, Harry has to catch his breath, shifting in the seat as he adjusts the frozen peas. 

“Hot?” you taunt.

“Mhm. Come here, and check my temperature.” His voice is throaty, and you recognize the signs quite easily. 

“Nope. Three more to go before I get within touching distance, H. Sorry.”

“Dammit,” He mockingly shakes his head. “You know I could easily see all of them on separate nights. Let’s just start with this one.”

Purposely, you push your lip out in a pout. “But then the other lingerie would get jealous, and Ryan went to a lot of effort to get me a private viewing. After all, this stuff isn’t available to the general public.”

“No?” He sighs, and you catch the hitch in his comment. “Bring on the second one then.”

Confidently, you swagger from the room. With shaky hands, you withdraw the bright red lace camisole and boy short. Is this the appropriate one to wear next? The red might just push him over the edge. Best to stay out of his reach then. Smirking, you pull the outfit on and waltz onto the balcony with a twirl, your hair on pointe as its curls bounced with you. 

“Holy fuck. That’s the second one?” His strangled cry makes you laugh in joy. 

“How’s that cock feeling now?” you gesture in the direction of his crotch. 

“The peas have melted I believe.”

“Mhm. Maybe you should go get something else from the freezer then.”

“Nah. I’d rather you come get this bag for me. I might be too injured to walk inside.”

“Oh, you’re so funny. I know this game. I get close to you, and the other two lingerie outfits never see the light of day. Nope. You want more frozen food for your genitals, you can get it yourself.” Laughing, you smack your rounded ass as you amble into the bedroom again. 

“Fuck!” Harry yells behind you. 

The dialogue combined with the strutting has your pussy feeling damp as the waves of arousal rush over you. Sure you’d fucked last night, but today was a new day, and you wanted to feel that dick inside you -- regardless of the damage he did by jogging in the city for the video. 

The third one is pink -- and you’re well aware from experience how much Harry loves pink. The baby doll dress is silk and lands just at the top of your thighs with a black lace bodice that laces in the middle. Kind of laces anyway. Plenty of boob still visible. Or barely hidden. Whichever you prefer.

“Oh my god. You’re killing me!” Harry whines as you parade just out of his reach. When he starts to rise, you shake a finger at him. 

“No, no, H. You need to recuperate from running today. Better stay seated.”

He chokes as you twist around to show him all sides, including the g-string with its bare backside. 

“You’re evil!” he calls as you dance back into the bedroom. 

This is the final one, and you prepare carefully. It takes extra time to put on, and you smile as you observe your image in the room’s mirror. Deftly, you slip a couple of condoms in the bodice of the bralette. 

You find a playlist of romantic Italian music and set it to play on the Bluetooth speaker in the bedroom, ensuring the volume is high enough to be heard on the loggia. 

Harry gasps the moment he sees you. “You’re not wearing anything under that!”

Playfully you glance down at the last lingerie set. “Oh, damn. I guess when I put the garter skirt and stockings on, I must have forgotten the panties. Forgive me?”

His head bobs up and down as he gulps. 

“Now,” you murmur, approaching him. Grasping a pillow from a nearby chair, you plop it on the floor in front of him, settling on your knees there. “I think the best thing is if I take a look at this dick to make sure you didn’t do too much damage.”

Removing the no-longer-frozen peas, you toss the bag to the side. No one will be eating those. Ever. Silently, Harry waits while you carefully peel down the top of his elasticized shorts and remove his cock. You have to catch your breath every time you get to glimpse it, and today is no exception. 

Your mouth waters, and you lick your lips as you hold his rigid length in your hand, your eyes flickering up to his where he’s staring intently at you. Maintaining eye contact, you run your tongue over the tip of his cock, paying extra attention to the slit there. 

“Mmmm,” you murmur. “The tip seems to be okay. Let me check the length.”

Using your saliva as lubrication, you run your hands down his shaft to his balls. “Doesn’t appear to be broken,” you smirk, “In fact, seems pretty solid and firm to me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, “Might want to apply some suction there, love, just in case.”

You don’t really care what he means by that last phrase. You’re more than happy to test out the equipment to ensure that it’s in full working order. Spreading his legs more firmly, you lean in, sliding his entire dick into your mouth until the tip hits the back of your throat. Harry grasps the hair at the back of your hand, bunching it in his hand as he guides you along his length. You hear him sigh, and you’re confident he’s tilted his head back and closed his eyes, but when you glance at him, you find that his eyes are still on your lips. 

Fuck. It turns you on even more, and you can feel your pussy dripping onto the pillow. You make a mental note to remove the cover and wash it before leaving the villa. 

As your lips glide along him, you’re frustrated at not having full access to him. As you apply suction to his tip, you pop off him with an audible sound. Both of your hands reach for the waistband of his shorts, and you gently encourage him -- “Lift your bum, H” -- so you can fully remove the garment, throwing it over your shoulder and hoping it doesn’t sail into the pool below. Harry smiles, adjusting his stance into the biggest man spread you’ve ever seen. 

Before you return to your ministrations on his cock, you grasps your chin, drawing your face forward and upwards until he can lock lips with you. 

“Not much longer, love, or I’ll explode.”

“I don’t mind,” you purr. 

“Mhm. But if we’re fully going to test the equipment, then that should include more than a bj.”

“Ah, I see,” you grin. “But of course. We want to be thorough.” 

First, though, you are compelled to play with his balls, so you take him into your mouth again, adding one hand to his length while the fingers on the other play with the balls underneath. Fuck. You could do this all day. Breathing through your nose, you deepthroat him and suck for a solid ten seconds before you release him completely. 

With a grin, you stand, kicking aside the pillow. “Hmmmmm...trying to decide the best way to do this.” Your voice has a catch in it, and you wipe your mouth before bending over and capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Tongue darting forward, you taste him, allowing him to suckle your tongue briefly. 

As you come up for air, Harry moves his legs together while slipping his hand between yours and nudging your legs apart. With one finger he teases your clit, flicking it from side to side as he watches your face and eases another digit inside you. Oh hell. This feels…

“Fuck, H.”

“You’re so tight, baby. Come sit here. Let’s test out the equipment. Make sure everything works properly.”

At his invitation, you step forward as he shifts his bum down on the chair a bit. 

“Shit. I forgot…”

With his words, you remove the first condom from your bralette where it has conveniently been nuzzling your nipple, the hard corner of the foil packet hardening your nip. 

Grasping his dick, he uses the tip to slap at your pussy a few times before using your internal juices to lubricate himself. Your eyes roll back into your head as the two of you work together so you can slide onto him without any additional moments wasted. 

When you’re fully seated on his dick, you grind just for a moment. 

“Hmmmm...seems sturdy enough,” you pant. 

“Oh, you’re so funny,” he drawls, but his eyes roll back in his head when you glide along his length, your stockinged thighs surrounded by his large hands. “Fuck, love.”

“Working on it,” you laugh breathlessly as the rhythm becomes easier. His hands move to your arse as he assists you in riding him. 

Draping your arms over his shoulders, you shake your tits in his face, and he grins as he bends his head to press a kiss at the juncture of your boobs. 

As your climax begins to arrive, your movements become less steady and more sporadic. Harry, knowing you as he does, reaches between your bodies to tease your clit as you throw your head back and cry out two thrusts before his seed spurts into the condom and his eyes roll back into his head. Spent, you collapse on his chest, still joined. 

“I think,” you whisper as you kiss his neck while playing with the curls at the nape of your neck, “we can agree that the equipment still works just fine. No damage here.” Picking up your head, you glare at him. “But no more, H! What’s mine is mine. The fans get enough of you.”

He laughs as his arms surround you, and he buries his head in your shoulder. 

“Of course, love. Whatever you say.”

A/N:  Reblogs are love, my readers.  If you liked this even just a little tiny bit, please take a second to reblog so that others might find it.  Getting likes is nice, but it doesn’t help me grow my readership.  Thanks for your consideration!

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #my writing #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #1d imagine #harry styles reader insert #original writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #sorry I'm so slow at getting this one finished! #please let me know what you think

[morizoras-cave]

Noise (Request)

Avengers cast x gn!teen!co-star!reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Request Description: can you do an avengers cast x teen!reader where the reader is like on set or at an event or something and it gets really loud and the reader get overwhelmed from all the noise? (sorry if this is too specific. also i really love you’re writing it always makes my day

Warnings: anxiety, something panic attack-like (?), language

(A/N): this post includes chris evans, chris hemsworth, anthony mackie, danai gurira, sebastian stan and scarlett johansson. this post is a special shout out to my boys donatello, michelangelo, leonardo and raphael! you rock🤩🤩

Comic-Con. You had been so excited to go there, so excited. You loved meeting fans, and Comic-Con was the place to do that exact thing. You had been put in an interview with about a dozen of your cast mates from the Marvel universe. This was your first appearance in the universe and you couldn’t be happier about it. 

But you forgot about it. You always had trouble with loud noises. The first time you’d experienced it was in public. You wanted to say that you had gotten better, but it was still quite easy to tip you into panic-mode. 

You just hadn’t taken that into account with Comic-Con, as you were blinded by the excitement of meeting fans. Now you were there and it was horrific. 

You and the other people in the cast wore awkward and covering costumes provided by Marvel, so you could walk around unbothered. You walked in a rather large and random group all together.

Everything was so loud. There were multiple songs played at different areas and there were a staggering amount of people. It seemed like everyone was screaming at each other.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, you were visibly shaking. You couldn’t breathe in the mask, you thought, and then wondered if you would even be able to breathe without it. 

“You okay?” You recognized Chris (Hemsworth)’s voice. He was wearing a ridiculous teenage mutant ninja turtle outfit, baggy as all hell, to hide his rather telling muscular body. 

Behind the mask you were crying, you realized. Tears trickled down your cheeks. Everything hurt so much, your heart felt like it was being squeezed. Anxiety danced on your nerves. 

“I’m- I’m just a little nervous,” you yelled over the loud hall of people, voice cracking. You could pick up so many little conversations:

“It’s gotta be a number that’s special” then, “Eight” and then once more, “Eight? Eight’s not special. It’s the seven magic dwarves, not eight!”

“You’re into guys, right?” then, “yeah, why?”

“Hello guys, welcome to Herman’s Games!” then, “No one cares, Herman!”

Your senses were overflowing with input. Chris was looking at you through the eyes of Donatello (the turtle), and if you could’ve seen his eyes, you would’ve seen disbelief and obvious concern. 

“Hey guys,” Chris (Evans) padded up to you. To match the other Chris, Anthony and Sebastian, he was wearing a Leonardo (again, the turtle) mask and costume. 

You couldn’t focus on them. Or on anything, but your hurting heart and tingling stomach. Your legs felt like nothing. You needed to sit down.

Chris (Evans/Leonardo) took one look at you, and then looked to the other Chris (Hemsworth/Donatello), with concerned eyes. They whispered something to each other, but you didn’t notice. Everything was far too loud. You wiped the tears that had trickled from your eyes to beneath your chin. 

Someone grabbed your hand and started pulling you away, and you followed limply, too bothered and uncomfortable to really do anything but exist. 

A door closed, and suddenly the loudness was gone, or rather muffled. Everything was much, much quieter. The new room was dimmed and colder and quieter. Your legs gave out and you pressed yourself against the nearest wall, sliding down to sit on the floor.

“Y/n, Y/n,” you looked up to see the two Chrisses. Your heartbeat was gradually slowing. “Are you okay? You were crying out there, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What happened?” They crouched down beside you, gently caressing your shaking shoulders. 

“It was- It was just really loud, you know?” you said, taking your mask off to breathe properly. Your eyelashes were wet and clumped together and your eyes were red and puffy. You sniffled.

“Yeah, it was,” Chris (Evans) squeezed your shoulder reassuringly. Just then, the door to the hall was opened, making your heart skip a beat. The door was closed again, and the rest of your group stumbled inside. 

“Why’d you go in here?” Sebastian asked, and you realized you were in the currently unused (only for the next thirty minutes or so) backstage area of a panel. No one was there. Sebastian was confused, but then he saw you and his eyes softened.

“Damn, Y/n, what happened?” Anthony asked, lifting his Raphael mask. The two Chrisses backed off a little.

“Holy shit, yeah, are you okay?” Scarlett’s brows furrowed as she saw you. You nodded. 

“It’s nothing much, I just-..” you trailed off, sure that they were gonna laugh at you, “I’ve just always been very anxious when there’s a lot of noise.” You avoided their eyes.

“That’s okay, honey. That’s totally fine.” This time Danai crouched down beside you, caressing your cheek gently. You nodded again, not sure why.

“Maybe you wanna leave? We’ve already done the panel, it’s totally fine if you’re not up for the rest of it,” Sebastian suggested. You sighed in relief at his suggestion, a small tear escaping your eye. Everyone frowned at the visceral reaction of relief. You must’ve been in a lot of pain, they thought.

“Yeah, yeah, I’d like that.” you whispered. Your voice was small. 

Danai and Scarlett drove you back to the hotel, apparently also fed up with the event. They offered to stay with you for a while, the three of you watching a movie or something. You agreed. 

In the end that day was kind of a shitty day, but the night was awesome, as you had a fun time with Danai and Scarlett, watching movies and exchanging stories, and most importantly eating pizza. 

You felt so comforted, and you made sure to thank both Danai, Scarlett, Chris, Chris, Sebastian and Anthony the next day. They shrugged it off like it was nothing, but you insisted, hoping to express your gratitude. 

At all of the next events of the press tour, they’d check in with you multiple times, and if you weren’t feeling well, they’d always make up an excuse for you to leave. They didn’t want you feeling unhappy or anxious, and if they could stop it they would. You were endlessly thankful for what they did, and you hoped so desperately that they knew. What would you even have done without them?

___________________________

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#chris evans x reader #chris hemsworth x reader #sebastian stan x reader #anthony mackie x reader #danai gurira x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #avengers cast x reader #avengers cast x teen!reader #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #mcu cast x reader #mcu x reader #marvel cast x reader