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champagnefountains · 2 months

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LUCIFER MAGNE - H.H.

CHAPTER II - Prompt: Lucifer continuing to wear his wedding ring despite being in a relationship with you.

Previous chapter: [x] Word Count: 3.4k+ words (unedited). Genre/other tags: Angst with some fluff. Jealousy. Fem pronouns used. Warnings: Swearing. Self-deprecation. Manipulation (on Alastor's part).

It had been nearly over a week since you and Lucifer last talked – it had also been a week since Lucifer was last seen around in the hotel. Angel, being the gossiper he was, relayed everything that had transpired between you two to the others the following day. Seeing the sensitive and sad shell of a person you were left in, everyone remained cautious and had started walking on eggshells around you. Of course, you were quick to pick up on that, as embarrassing as it all was (minus Alastor, who continued on with his usual theatrics and mischief).

Charlie in particular was the most concerned out of them all, since this was her dad we were talking about. She knew with certainty that he was confining himself in the castle to distract himself from what happened – likely something involving his rubber-ducky obsession – instead of facing the problem head on. It was his pride that sometimes got in the way of his better judgement.

Not only that, but Charlie clearly saw the massive toll it took on you. If you weren’t distracting yourself with work or doing something related to the hotel, you would lock yourself away in your room, only coming out to quickly grab a bite to eat from the kitchen. Charlie even made efforts to strike many conversations with you from time to time, but was either excused or was only given one-worded responses. She knew not to take your dismissive behaviour to heart, but she couldn’t help but fret over you.

So it came as an absolute surprise when out of nowhere, Charlie received a call from her father. She messily scrambled for her phone on her desk, fumbling and nearly dropping it in the process before violently tapping on the small screen. “H-Hello?! Dad, hey!” She answers a bit too enthusiastically while nervously combing her hair with a free hand. “Uh, hey Charlie!” Lucifer stiffly greets from the other line, “I just…um, thought I’d give a call to, uh, see how everyone’s going at the hotel!” The Princess noted how much hoarser his voice was than usual, but decided not to comment on it aloud.

“Well, y’know how it is! It’s been busy and lively as always–everyone’s been working really hard and all,” she answers vaguely, nervously chuckling. “Err, yeah! Right. That’s a–that’s a relief to hear. Yep,” he hums. There was a brief, awkward pause that ensued soon after, the both of them not knowing what to say next. The whole exchange was becoming increasingly painful that Charlie resisted the urge to pull her hair. She then clears her throat. “H-How about you, dad? What’ve you been up to? You’ve been gone for a couple or so days,” Charlie finally musters, “are…are you doing alright?”

“Me? Oh yeah, psh! I just got, erm…a lot of things going on at the moment. It’s not so easy being the big boss of hell after all! Got a lot of important things to do! Plus, I’ve got heaps of paperwork to do for the hotel. You should know how tedious that is,” He says, adding an exaggerated groan.

The princess furrows her brows. “Oh, that’s…strange. ’Cause I could’ve sworn you left all the papers here…y’know, the ones you told me to revise over?” Charlie replies, side-eyeing the said documents stacked neatly on her desk. A startled yelp escapes his throat. “O-Oh...did I?” He stammers.

Charlie couldn’t help but wince at the evident panic that began to set in as she listened to her father make incomprehensible noises from the other line. It was a poor attempt in reasoning, which ultimately became useless in the end. Lucifer let out a long sigh, caught red-handed. “Oh, who the hell am I kidding? You guys probably already know what happened–which by the way, Charlie, you shouldn’t be lying to me about!” He pointedly remarks.

“I-I’m sorry, dad! It’s just…I’m really worried about you,” she reasons, before shortly adding, “...The both of you.”

There was a small pause. “...How is she, by the way?” He then asks quietly. Charlie nervously tugs her bottom lip with her fangs. “Well, she’s keeping herself busy. Constantly, as a matter of fact. And I know she’s trying hard to convince us all that she’s holding up okay, but…she doesn’t look too good, dad. She seems really upset.”

A shaky exhale sounded from his end. “I…I really am hopeless, aren’t I?” He mumbles defeatedly. Even though she couldn’t see him, she could picture him burying his face in his hands. The image caused Charlie’s eyes to soften. “Dad, no. It’s not too late. You still have a chance to make things right,” Charlie gently encourages through the speaker, “you just need to talk to each other–”

Suddenly, from the corner of her eye, a bright, blazing portal manifests from thin air – from it, emerges Lucifer himself who appeared extremely dishevelled, effectively catching Charlie off guard.

“But, hun, y-you don’t understand! I messed up big time!” He exclaims, tugging on his unkempt hair as he aimlessly paced around her office. “I-I mean, look at me! I’m a fucking mess and a coward! Why would she ever think to take me back after what I did!?” He chuckles humourlessly, shaking his head in disbelief, “I-It’s like no matter how many times I try to redeem and convince myself that everything’s finally going right in my life, I just continue to fuck myself over and over again. And it’s just– ugh! It’s pathetic! I’m fucking pathetic!”

Charlie’s chest tightened considerably as she watched her father self-destruct before her. Strands of his golden hair were sticking out here and there, his dress-shirt tousled, and his eyes were glossed over and red, from both a lack of sleep and crying. He looked utterly devastated. Chucking her phone away, she immediately sped towards and enveloped Lucifer in her arms, who immediately broke down into heavy sobs. Seeing him like this brought tears to her own eyes, but she firmly told herself to be the stronger person in this situation, for his sake.

“Hey, hey. Dad, listen to me, okay? Everyone deserves a second chance. You of all people should know–you were the one who taught me that, remember?” Charlie rubbed his back soothingly, trying to ease the jumpiness of his shoulders. “And that also applies to you. I…I know you’ve been through a lot, especially with mum…” She couldn’t help the way her frown deepened as she spoke, “...and I miss her too. I miss her a lot. But…I think it’s finally time for you to move on. It’s been years, dad. You deserve to be happy and you’re allowed to be in love again.”

“[Name]’s an amazing person, and there’s no doubt about that. She’s proved that more than many times already. I’m certain that once things ease over and you guys finally talk things through, everything will turn out okay; she’s very understanding and kind like that. You’ll both be okay.” Charlie gently pulls Lucifer away and with the sleeve of her blazer, she wipes his damp, reddened cheeks. “I know for a fact that she loves and cares about you deeply – we can all see it as clear as day. You…you love her too, don’t you, dad?”

For a brief moment’s contemplation, Lucifer suddenly recalled the times you spent together, from your initial meeting to now. He had always thought you were a strong and independent soul, with the way you carried yourself. You just had something about you that naturally drew in those around you, including himself. When Lucifer got to know you in a deeper level, he was enthralled by how kind and understanding you were – you were always there to listen to his many tales and endless nonsense; you would always seem genuinely interested in his rubber-duck-esque inventions, offering some input and critiquing his creations; and you would always be so, so supportive of all his plans and ideas, no matter how extraordinary they all seemed.

If he hadn't known any better, Lucifer would've thought you were an actual angel. You were the saviour that wore off the darkness in troubling times, and the one who pulled him out of the void that Lilith had left him in. That and more, as you continuously gave him a real reason to remain hopeful. You were proof personified, that he was able to open his heart once more, and to love again.

“I-I do, I really do,” Lucifer affirms in a heartbeat. Charlie smiles warmly, relieved by his answer, “then that’s all you need to say.” At that moment, Lucifer's chest swelled in overwhelming pride for his daughter, knowing that despite not being as present in her life until recently, she grew up to be the good and strong-willed person he had hoped for.

“O-Oh, jeez. Since when did you grow up so big? I should be the one comforting you,” He tearfully jokes, sniffling whilst returning her smile, “but thank you, Charlie. Really. I’m…I-I really am grateful to call you my daughter.” The two royalties then shared a heart-felt moment and a bone-crushing hug, with the King's heart being filled with a new-found determination. Because, just as he always says: The show must go on.

Earlier on:

On the other side of the building, you were drowning yourself in your own self-despair as you overlooked the balcony by the front entrance of the hotel. Your eyes lazily scanned the new hotel patrons below, who were engaging in some trust exercises led by Vaggie, who came in to cover you just moments ago. Every once in a while, you couldn’t help but glance at your phone, silently hoping to receive some sort of notification from Lucifer, or even an inkling of his whereabouts. But you received nothing, which only fuelled your growing anxiety.

You felt awful leaving the way you did that night, especially after dumping so much onto Lucifer. You felt like you were being completely selfish, and had cornered him into making a big decision. And because of that, your relationship was on the line. You let out a frustrated sigh, rubbing angrily at your face.

Little did you know however, that you had some company lurking nearby, watching you in silent amusement.

“Now, don’t you look as miserable as ever?” Alastor mockingly chimes in, stepping out from the shadows to make his presence known and joins you by the balcony. You roll your eyes at the deer-demon before turning your head the other direction. “Yeah, and what about it?” You scoff, leaning in to rest your arms against the rails, “Can’t you go bother someone else, Alastor? I’m certainly not in the mood right now.”

“Why, I wouldn’t be a good hotelier if I left a dear co-worker of mine so down in the slumps!” To your dismay, Alastor reappears in front of you, obstructing your field of view, "And might I add, it's not healthy for you to be all cooped up in your room all the time – stay there any longer, and it can do silly, little things to your head!" He emphasises his point as he spins a finger in a circular motion by his temple. You shot him an irritated look, slowly growing fed up by his prodding.

"Listen, I don't need you telling me what I should and shouldn't do. I’m more than capable of deciding that on my own,” you growl, straightening up to cross your arms firmly against your chest. “Hm...no, I don’t think so!” Alastor hums, shaking his head disapprovingly, “The unfortunate affair that took place in your courtship with the King has left you in such a vulnerable, and problematic state. And I’m sure you’ve taken note of how everyone’s been acting around you – constantly walking on their tiptoes in fear of setting you off on a hissy-fit. You’ve caused them to worry a lot about you, dear. Poor ol’ Charlie, especially.”

You open your mouth to retort back, but nothing came out. A strong pang of guilt struck you as his words began to sink in. Seeing this, Alastor’s grin widened a faction as he stepped forward and levelled himself with you, now facing you eye-to-eye. “And as the executive producer of this fine establishment, might I critique that your behaviour is affecting our team’s morale and performance…and we mustn’t have that now, should we? Especially not since we’ve all been more preoccupied recently with our guests!” He…had a fair point, as much as you didn’t want to admit it.

“I…I’m sorry. I didn’t…know…” Your voice began to trail off, shoulders slumping in realisation of how selfish and contemptuous you’ve been acting this whole week. You recalled the fretful expressions of your friends and your dismissive attitude towards them. “I-I didn’t mean to make everyone worry…” you quietly say. Alastor’s words only made you feel immensely worse about the whole situation, leaving you sniffling on the spot.

“Now, now. As long as you realise your mistakes, then you shall be forgiven,” he coos, softly patting the tuft of your head. At that, you couldn’t help but send a doubtful glance his way. “W-wait a minute…why do you care all of a sudden? What exactly are you playing at?” You suspiciously question as you rub at your eyes.

“Oh, how you wound me, dear! Why must you always question any act of kindness I display? Is it really that hard to believe?” He adverts, evidently feigning hurt. You deadpan. “Yes, it is,” you reply almost instantly. Alastor chortles at your bluntness, “Haha! You’re quite a work of art, aren't you, dear? Now, let’s go out for a walk, shall we?”

Before you could’ve processed what he had said, Alastor had already spun you around, pulling you with him as you both headed down a flight of stairs. “Wha–Alastor, where are we–where the heck are you taking me?” You asked, trying to keep up with his long strides so as to not trip down the stairs. “Hm? Did I not already specify? It looks like your brooding has impacted your hearing, dear. That’s a shame,” he slyly comments, now dragging you towards the entrance, “We’re both going for a walk around town, it’ll help clear that cloudy head of yours!”

“Hold on-Stop! Just what makes you think I’d agree to go out with you?” You shoot back, retracting your arm from his hold and stopping metres behind him. Alastor sharply turns around and pulls out a wrinkled, yellow piece of paper out of thin air. Your eyes dart towards the sheet, seeing a familiar hand-writing across the page.

“Why, I just knew you were going to question me – you're so predictable. But might I add, we’re not going out without purpose! No, no! Our lovely Charlie has composed a list and requested we fetch a couple items in town!” Stepping forward, you swiftly snatched the paper from his clawed hand and briefly scanned the list, noting that it largely consisted of decorations and party items. “She wanted to organise a heart-warming celebration for the wayward souls here who have accomplished some milestones on their journey to redemption! An anniversary ceremony of sorts, if you will,” Alastor explains, lightly patting the non-existing dust off of his suit.

“But couldn’t you just…I don’t know, teleport the things here?” You blatantly ask, raising a brow at him. You knew he was more than capable of doing such minuscule tasks within a span of seconds. “And waste such a beautiful day outside? Now, why would I even consider doing that?” Alastor states matter-of-factly, “And like I said, the short trip will help clear your troubled mind! Consider it a gesture of compassion from yours truly.”

There was clearly something off about all this but you couldn’t see any reason for an ulterior motive. It was just…simply a manager looking out for the well-being of his work-colleagues, as uncharacteristic and off-putting as it sounded out loud. Already exhausted, you couldn’t bring it in yourself to question his actions any further.

“You’re really not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, are you?” You ask. Seeing the way Alastor’s grin widened had you sighing in defeat. “Shall we then?” Alastor questions, offering an arm out to you. Rolling your eyes, you loop one of your arms through and follow him out the hotel. ‘A small walk wouldn’t hurt…’ you think to yourself as the doors shut behind you.

Currently:

Lucifer tiredly dragged himself to his designated room in the hotel, to rest for a while and take a much needed bath as per Charlie’s advice. He gave himself a lengthy pep-talk in front of the mirror as he brushed his teeth, deciding to approach you tonight to finally talk and clear things out. Yes, he was absolutely terrified about the possibility of things going south during the confrontation, but he didn’t think he could handle another second being without you. And he needed to make that loud and clear.

After putting on an outfit and neatly slicking his hair back, Lucifer looked at his reflection once more in the bedside mirror, inspecting himself up and down to flatten any remaining creases of his clothing. But it wasn't until his gaze landed on his left hand that he tensed up. Peering down, he brought his hand into view to inspect the very wedding band that caused it all. With a shaky sigh, Lucifer slowly pulled the ring off of his finger. He took a moment to examine it, eyes filled with sentiment before kneeling down to open his bedside drawer, where its designated ring-box sat. The moment he encased the ring in its box and locked it away in his drawer, it felt like a breath of fresh air. To his own surprise, Lucifer found himself tearfully laughing – he felt...genuinely happy. Proud, even. It was at this very moment that he felt like he was finally ready to move forward.

After patting the stray tears away from his face, Lucifer slowly made his way down to the front lobby. There, Charlie and Vaggie were talking amongst themselves by the lounge area, whilst Angel and Cherri chuckled away by the bar, with Husk tending to their beverages. The King didn’t give an inkling of care as to where Alastor had gone, and he was certain that Nifty was hiding somewhere in the small crevices of the hotel, cleaning away. All in all, there was no sight of you whatsoever, visibly disappointing him.

Seeing his approaching form, Charlie waved his father over towards them. “Hey, dad. Are you feeling a bit better now?” She asks with a comforting smile. “Yeah, totally. Thanks, dear,” he says, patting her shoulder affectionately before turning his attention towards her partner. “Hey! How’s it going, Maggie? I’ve heard you’ve been working real hard lately, huh? Good on yah!” He commends, playfully nudging the said demon. “Oh, um…it’s–it’s Vaggie, sir. And uh, thanks,” she nervously chuckles, rubbing her arm. “Mhm, yeah…that’s–that’s great,” Lucifer distractedly hums, all the while scanning around the room. Noticing this, Vaggie shared a worried look with Charlie.

“Erm, dad, she’s not here at the moment if that’s what you’re wondering,” Charlie starts, alerting her father. “Oh? Well, is she up in one of the guest rooms?” Lucifer asked, gesturing upstairs with a thumb. To his confusion, Charlie appeared somewhat nervous, her hands fidgeting with her suit. “Uh, no, she’s actually not in the hotel at the moment,” Vaggie steps in, “she’s been out doing a couple of errands for us.” Lucifer raised a brow at the slight edginess in her tone, eyes darting back and forth between the two girls. “...Um, alright. What the heck is going on right now?" He asks, pointing an accusatory finger at them both, "You guys are acting sketchy as fuck. Are you...are you guys hiding something from me?" He narrows his eyes. Charlie sucks in a breath, brows pinching together, “Well...dad, t-the thing is–”

“She’s out with Smiles right now!” Angel suddenly intervened, calling out from the other side of the room, and causing Charlie to cower and duck behind Vaggie. Lucifer felt his shoulders grow rigid. “She’s…what now?” He dangerously asks, glaring at the arachnid. Before Lucifer trudged towards the direction of the bar, the front doors of the hotel abruptly flew open. He felt the vein in his neck nearly burst at the sound of your laughter interlacing itself with that god-awful, irritating radio feedback. What a wild coincidence.

As Lucifer turned around, his eyes nearly flew out of his head as he saw how close you were with Alastor, arms basically locked together. The radio-demon was quick to meet eyes with the King, and out of spite, Alastor flashed him the biggest shit-eating grin he's ever seen.

“Oh, fuck no!”

Chapter III - Finale [x]

Thank you for reading!

#lucifer magne x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer magne #lucifer morningstar

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of-cauldrons-and-inkpens · 10 months

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You Missed My Heart: PART 1

PART 1 LINK | PART 2 LINK | PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,107 Author’s Note: I wrote this instead of doing my college work, but I also didn’t proofread. Hopefully there aren’t too many typos! I’ll probably add more chapters in the following days/weeks Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

The dream was hazy. Miguel sighed as he began to inch toward the edge of the mattress, drifting out of the shared embrace that we had slept in. Arms and legs untangled from one another as he drifted away from me.

I reached my hand outward, catching onto his hand before he could slip away for good. “I need to go to work.” He whispered, his voice husky and warm from sleep. But, despite his protest, he lay back down beside me. “Don’t go.” I said. My hands worked their way through the darkness, moving to curl around his broad shoulders. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to feel his strong heartbeat against my chest and listen to him breathe one more time. It didn’t matter that this wasn’t real. I didn’t care that this was now a soft and distorted memory; this was all I had left of him. I had convinced myself weeks ago that if I dreamed of him enough, it would almost be like he wasn’t gone. “I have to. Alchemax is unveiling a new project today and I have to be there.” He leaned in, brushing the tip of his nose against mine. His breath was warm, working as a perfect antagonist for the frigid air of our bedroom. “Please Miguel.” I begged. He cut me off by pressing his lips against mine. The kiss was languid and wet. Our bodies were still naked from the previous night’s activities as he rolled on top of me. “Miguel…” I whispered. “Please don’t leave me.” “I’m not going anywhere.” He said. His lips slipped off of mine as he lowered his face, moving so that his mouth could graze the shell of my ear. There, he whispered the one thing I thought I would never hear again. “I love you…”

Something brushed the side of my face, pulling me from my dream. I jerked upward, searching for what had caused it. But I couldn’t see through the pitch black of the bedroom. In the darkness, I was so sure that I could smell him. He had been dead for months, but his scent still lingered in the walls and all of the soft places in the house. It was to the point that I was terrified of moving or washing anything; if I did, that last piece of him would vanish forever.

Hot tears slid down my face.

I had been crying again. But that had become such a common occurrence that I couldn’t even be surprised. Tears slid down my neck, soaking into the collar of Miguel’s Alchemax t-shirt that had been worn thin. Crying had become an every night thing since the funeral. Maybe if I could understand what the hell even happened to him, then I could be okay. But there had been no information about any of it. I had been told there was an accident at work and that there was nothing that could have been done to save him. But the term accident meant so many different things.

I lifted my hand to my cheek to wipe away the next batch of tears. But, as my fingers brushed my skin, I couldn’t help but notice the distinct warmth on that side of my face.

Had someone been here?

Had the gentle brush been entirely in my head?

I swallowed hard as my eyes searched the darkness. “Miguel?” I asked. But there was no answer. The delusional part of me wanted to hear him stir inside of the bathroom that attached to the bedroom. I slid my hand outward, searching through the sheets that would always remain cold.

The black out curtains that covered my window blocked out any light from the city. The only light in the room was from the small machine that Miguel had set up in the corner. I was never sure what exactly it did, but it always gave off a pale blue glow.

I glanced around the room, seeing that the pictures were all still lying face down on the dresser and bookshelves.

Nothing was different. He was still dead, and I was still alone.

I swallowed hard as I reached for the bottle of sleeping pills that sat on the bedside table. I had gotten them after stepping off one of the curbs in Nueva York without looking. But, before anything could happen, a man had grabbed me, jerking me out of the way seconds before my body had the chance to collide with the car that was racing down the street. Maybe if I hadn’t been so exhausted, then I would have thought before I walked.

The pills were my only chance at getting any rest these days. I unscrewed the top of the bottle, dropped one of the white pills into my hand, and then replaced the white plastic lid. I discarded the bottle onto the nightstand and then popped the pill in my mouth.

I just needed to go to sleep. If I could sleep, then I could see him again.

I leaned back against the sheets, watching the walls of the hallway through the open door of our bedroom. If I hadn’t known better, I could have sworn to God that I saw a faint orange and pink glow dance against the walls before being consumed by darkness.

No dreams came. My vision was dark, trapping me in a dreamless darkness. The pills always made my body heavy with sleep; it was almost impossible to open my eyes when I was like this. I didn’t see him in my dreams, but I could hear him. His voice was faint, speaking in delicate murmurs.

Fingers brushed against the skin of my face as he pushed several of my curls behind my ears. It was something he had always done, especially when I was sitting on the couch beside him. I had always wondered if he did it so that he could see my face or if it was just his way of getting my attention. But I guess that didn’t matter now.

I flinched at the reminder.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here.” Miguel whispered. He pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. I felt the bed move under me, sinking on the edge as he sat down. “I’m gonna keep you safe.”

“You need to drop this.” A soft female voice said. Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“I can’t do that.” Miguel’s voice was firm; he had already made up his mind.

“Miguel, you’re torturing her. Just leave her alone.” The delicate voice pleaded. Behind my eyelids, I saw pink and honey color light flash. “Give her time. Let her mourn then let her move on. Maybe she could be happy. She could get married and have a good life.”

“Lyla, I’m not sure if you know this, but telling me that my wife is going to fuck someone else and that that’s why I should let her go has the exact opposite effect.”

“Let her be happy.” The girl pleaded.

“She should have died. I’m saving her.”

“Miguel, please let her go. Please, I really-” I heard him click something, making the second voice fall silent.

Warm arms slipped under my legs as I was overwhelmed by the smell of Miguel.

My Miguel.

He smelled faintly of cologne, sweat, and something else. He pulled me into his arms, laying my body against his strong chest. I felt him grab a heavy arm and place it on his shoulder. Beneath my fingers, I felt a weird material cover his skin.

What the hell?

I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t force myself out of the dream. The medication weighed me down, anchoring me into this strange haze.

Miguel bounced me in his arms a couple of times. I groaned, feeling him stand up. One of the blankets caught on my foot, tugging on my tired body. Miguel gently tossed the blanket onto the bed, offering a few more gentle bounces to my body as he started to walk.

“You’re going to be so happy.” He whispered. Miguel pressed a second kiss against my skin.

Blinding light came streaming through the window. I winced, lifting my hand to shield my eyes. I lay there for a moment before a thought occurred to me.

When was the last time I had been awakened by sunlight?

Miguel had always worked such random hours that we had hung thick blackout curtains over the window so that we had a chance at getting some sleep.

“What?” I pushed myself up in the bed, feeling my t-shirt drop down to cover the soft skin of my stomach. But the left side was caught on something, keeping that side of my abdomen exposed. I glanced down to see a thick bracelet that had been attached to my wrist. I pulled the shirt off of the bracelet, allowing it to fall and give me some sense of modesty as I glared at the contraption.

What the hell was this thing?

I glanced around, searching for some idea as to what was going on.

The only clue was a bright orange post-it note that had been pressed onto the bedside table. It was sitting between a glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. Plucking the note off of the table, I quickly began to read it.

‘Please don’t be scared. I’ll be back soon. Take this for your head. It will take a bit to get used to all of this.’ It had been signed with a name that immediately made me shutter.

Miguel.

No. No. No.

Did I die?

Or did I finally go insane?

I pushed myself out of the bed, searching for some clue as to what the hell was going on. This was my bedroom. At least, it looked like it was. The closet was the same, the bookshelves were the same, even the weird off-blue shade that Miguel had picked for the walls was the exact same.

It was then that something caught my eye. All of the pictures were sitting upright. I could see our mutual smiles behind the glass. They were photos of us on dates, photos of us at the weird events that Alchemax held, and even some of the more intimate photos we had taken of us in bed with our bodies barely covered by the thin ocean of sheets.

I stepped forward, moving toward the closet. I jerked one of Miguel’s button-ups off of the hanger and inspected it. The spot where he had spilled wine on the cuff was missing. Instead, the material was bleach white.

This was wrong. This was all wrong.

Everything was familiar, but still foreign somehow. There were sheets that were the same color but didn’t have soft faded patches that had been acquired from stains during love making. There were clothes that I remembered wearing, but they didn’t have the small tears or stains in them. Everything was put together from memory, but it wasn’t my memory.

If I didn’t look too closely at it, it could almost be perfect.

Slowly, I stepped forward. As I moved toward the dresser, I stopped. In my home, my real home, there was a creak in the floorboard. Miguel had spent an entire weekend trying to fix it after we had moved in, but it was all in vain.

Maybe I was just paranoid. That was the only solution.

I leaned backward, then forward again in an attempt to get the floor to creak.

A deafening silence filled the room.

I reached down and pulled at the bracelet. It was heavy on my arm. I slipped my fingers under the band, attempting to pry it off of me. But it was no use. It had been secured at the base, making it impossible to remove.

Then, I did the only thing I could think of.

I ran.

I bolted from the bedroom, moving down the hallway. When I reached the stairs, I took them two by two. Frankly, I was amazed that I didn’t slip and break my neck. But fear is a hell of a motivator. I sprinted through the living room, searching for the front door of our house. I threw open the front door and rushed outside, ignoring the fact that I wore only a thin t-shirt and underwear.

I needed to get the hell out of there; I didn’t care about being modest at this point.

It was Nueva York; the buildings were the same, so was the noise. Sounds of construction, traffic, children playing, and music blasting filled the air. But, I couldn’t help but notice the main thing that was missing: no people or vehicles.

“Hello?” I called.

But I was all alone.

“Hello?” I screamed.

Something grabbed my hand, jerking me backwards. I stumbled but was caught before I could collide with the pavement. Strong arms curled around my waist and hauled me upward. I flailed my arms and kicked out my legs in an attempt to get free, but it was no use. The figure turned around and began to carry me back to the house as if I was nothing more than a doll. “You weren’t supposed to leave the house.”

I knew that voice. It was the one that haunted my dreams and filled my every ‘what-if.’

Miguel.

“What the fuck?” I screamed.

“Stop trying to fight me.” His voice was flat. I glanced behind me to look at him. He wasn’t my Miguel. His eyes flickered somewhere between chocolate brown and blood red. The muscles on his shoulders were more defined and the line between his eyebrows was deeper. But maybe that was because of the dark scowl that he wore as he carried me up the small steps of the brownstone.

When he stepped inside of the house, he threw me onto the hardwood floor. As my head hit the floor, he reached behind him and flipped the deadbolt.

That was to make sure that I didn’t try and escape again.

Miguel wasn’t dressed how I was used to. My Miguel always wore some kind of standard, normal clothes. Nicer clothes for work, soft pants, and sweatshirts at home. But this man, the imposter, wore a red and blue costume that stretched over his hard muscles and accentuated his domineering frame.

“You were supposed to wait. I said I would be back soon.”

“Who the hell are you?” I twisted my body so that I was sitting up on the hardwood floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, attempting to hide my thin underwear from him.

“You’re joking right?” He asked. He stood over me, inspecting me with a look of both confusion and disappointment.

“No, I’m not. And what the hell did you put on my arm?” I shook my wrist, trying to loosen the device.

“Stop trying to take it off. If you do, you’ll die. Unless that’s what you’re hoping for.” He said as he studied me. I froze.

“What?”

“It keeps you alive in this universe. You’re not from here; you don’t belong here, so if you take that off, you’ll glitch until you die.”

I glanced around the room, taking in all of the little imperfections. The room was wrong, reminding me that I was in some kind of strange prison.

“What is all of this?” I asked. Miguel stared at me at if the answer was so obvious.

“It’s our home.”

“No… no, it isn’t.” I said. “What did you do to me?” I pushed myself off of the floor. As I did, I pulled at the bottom of the t-shirt. The man stared at me, his eyes dancing between the terrified look on my face at the pale skin of my naked legs. As his eyes drank me in, I could see them turning to a deeper shade of red.

“Who are you?” I asked. He let out a dark chuckle. As he did, I couldn’t help but notice that sharp white fangs that protruded from his mouth.

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t call me that.” I said. He rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’ve been very sweet to you. But now you’re starting to piss me off.” His voice was sharper this time. He moved toward me and I stepped back.

“Why do you look like him?” I asked. He knew exactly what I meant.

“Because I am him… in a way.”

“I don’t understand.” I said. He once again tried to fill the distance between the two of us. I stepped backward, feeling my back hit the side of the couch. “You died… he died.”

“In your universe, yes. Please call me Miguel. I know this may be new to you, but I am your husband, just a different version of him. I mean you no harm.” The dull ache from being thrown on the floor said differently. “I did all of this because I love you.”

“You don’t know me.” I said. I slid my hands against the side of the couch in an attempt to find something to cling to. He let out a dry laugh.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I know you in every single universe. I’ve known more versions of you than you can imagine. Versions where you live, versions where you die. So, in a way, I know you better than you even know yourself.”

“If you knew me so well, then you would know Miguel and I never married.”

“Purely semantics. Besides, that’s something that I fully intend on correcting.”

“You’re insane.” I said.

“Don’t fucking call me that. You have no idea how hard I worked to fix everything for you; how hard I worked to make sure that everything would be perfect.”

“Miguel, where the fuck am I?” I demanded. “And I don’t want you to keep saying I’m home. This isn’t my home. Where am I?”

“You could be a little bit more grateful. You should have died.” He said. “You weren’t supposed to be pulled out of the way of a car and you were.”

Anger flashed through me. Just looking at him filled me with a mixture of rage and sadness that mixed together in a sludge that did nothing but make me want scream at him. “I’m supposed to be dead? You’re dead! I went to your funeral! There’s a goddamn sign in the Alchemax lobby for you.” My throat burned and my eyes stung with tears. “Was that all some kind of sick lie?”

“No, your Miguel did die.” His voice was matter of fact- almost cold. It was as if he had said this all a million times before. Hell, for all I knew, he had. Maybe this was some kind of sick game he liked to play. “But, that’s no matter. I’m here now. I made a little pocket universe for you; where you can live and where you being here won’t affect anything. You can stay here with me, and things will be exactly as they should be.” I glanced at the locked door behind him. “You being here won’t affect any other universe and it keeps you out of your own, making sure that all of the canon events happen exactly as they should. The canon is safe and you get to live. Two birds, one stone.” He was so proud of himself.

“Do I have a choice in staying with you?”

His face twitched at my question. “I’ve watched you cry for him at night. I’ve heard you scream and beg for him to come back. You wear his clothes and listen to his music and talk to yourself like he’s still there. For God’s sake, I’ve watched you touch yourself to pictures of him. I just assumed you would have had a warmer reception to me.”

“You had no right to spy on me.” I winced, remembering the feeling of my face being touched in my sleep. He had been there, watching me as I mourned. Besides, there was something in the way he emphases a warmer reception. He was hoping I would immediately adore him and drag him into the bedroom to screw until I couldn’t walk straight. He wanted us to immediately slip into some weird little habit where I pretended to be his loving wife. He said I died in other universes. Was I his replacement, just as he hoped to be mine?

Miguel sucked on his teeth before he stepped forward.

Without thinking, I twisted my body around and bolted toward the kitchen. I had no idea where I was even going; I just wanted to be away from him.

I got about five steps away before he reached outward and grabbed me. This time, his hold was harder. His arms crushed themselves against my body as he lifted me upward and began to carry me toward the stairs. This time, he was holding me so tight that I was sure he was going to break my ribs.

“You’re hurting me.” I gasped.

“Then stop trying to leave me.” He said. “You’re not going to get far and you’re just going to end up hurting yourself.”

He carried me up the stairs, his eyes dark red in the dim light. He carried me to the bedroom at the end of the hall. When he reached the room, he looked down at me.

“Say you love me.” It was a second chance. I paused for a moment, trying to find a way to fake sincerity.

He wasn’t my Miguel. He wasn’t my angel who I curled up with on the couch or who insisted on making me listen to old music that nobody but him would ever like. This man didn’t have that gentleness about him; he wasn’t sweet or loving.

“I love you.” I tried. I knew I sounded like I was faking it.

“At least I know you’re a shitty actress.” He muttered. He dropped me on the floor of the bedroom and then stepped outside before I had a chance to make another getaway. He slammed the door shut.

“Miguel, please let me out.”

“Ah, now you want to be nice to me.” He mocked.

“You kidnapped me. I’m sorry if I’m not the person you were hoping for. If you want someone better, just get a different me from some other place. I’m sure the universe is just littered with them.”

“I saved you. Your universe would have collapsed if it weren’t for me. I offered you the chance to live in a different place, where none of that can ever hurt you and you hate me for it. You want to be pissed? Be my guest. But in time, you’ll love me. I know you will. You always do.”

“Yeah, Miguel, it doesn’t feel like you’re giving me a choice in the matter.” I said. “Why can’t you just find another girl? Anyone else?”

“It has to be you. Because it always is, no matter what. Every time, we end up together so I can’t just grab some random person. Besides, there aren’t too many of you who aren’t already with some version of me. Stealing wives from other versions of me just sounds wrong.”

Yeah, that would be the wrong part. Not the whole kidnapping thing. He keeps flipping between lunatic and romantic who is waxing poetic about our deep love. Maybe I would have been charmed if I had actually known this man. Plus, there was something weird about the way he said it. Had he considered it? How did he find widows versus wives?

“Miguel, sweetheart, how about you let me out of here and then we can find some kind of arrangement that we both like?”

He rolled his eyes as he locked the door from the outside. “When you decide to be the version of you that I know and love, then we can talk.”

Bastard.

I kicked the door, but I knew it was useless. He was already walking away from the door. In the distance, I heard his voice as he began to speak to someone else.

“Lyla, I’m a little busy right now.”

“It’s urgent.” She said.

It was hours before he came back. I didn’t hear him when he was stepping toward the door. I only heard him when he unlocked the door and let out a low sigh.

“I brought you dinner. It’s in the kitchen. I expect you to eat dinner with me tonight.” He said.

“Thank you.” I squeaked out. I hadn’t eaten since the night before. I was starving. Besides, if this was his idea at a peace offering, who was I to reject. He obviously didn’t want to return me to my real home. Maybe I should just get used to this. “I’ll be down in a minute. I want to clean up a little bit.” I said.

“I’ll get everything ready.” He said. With that, I heard him step away from the door of the bedroom. At least he was receptive to me needing a moment, rather than dragging me downstairs to eat right now.

I sighed to myself as I pushed myself off of the bed. I couldn’t just wear a t-shirt and underwear. I already looked like an absolute mess. My face was swollen from crying and my curls had turned into a frizzy mess from being manhandled so many times in the last twenty-four hours.

My best bet was a shower to calm me down and hopefully take away some of the puffy redness around my eyes and nose. I didn’t want him to see that I had sobbed when I was alone; he may have carted me around in my underwear, but I still had my dignity.

There was a small bathroom attached to the room. It was one that I was familiar with. It was exactly like the one at my house; there weren’t any superficial tweaks that he had made. At least, none that I could see upon first inspection.

I quickly showered, scrubbing my body gently as I went. As I slid a loofah along the sides of my body, I winced. Dark bruises were starting to blossom across my ribs from where he had squeezed as he carried me.

Damn it, that hurt!

I winced as I washed my body, careful not to aggravate any new sore spots that I had gotten. I then washed my hair, making sure that it was nice and clean.

Stepping out of the tub, I realized that I hadn’t grabbed a towel. I was sure that he would put them where I always did. After all, that was really the only place for them in the bathroom. I quickly ducked down and pulled open the door to the bathroom cabinet. The towels had been stacked on one side, random trinkets and things he had brought for me rested on the other. I snatched a towel from the pile as I eyed the objects.

They were the usual fair, mixed in with a few oddballs. Tampons, deodorant, razors, women’s shaving cream, a perfume that I wore pretty often, a couple of bottles of hand and body lotion, a toothbrush, toothpaste, an eyelash curler, a new tube of mascara, hair gel, and a dozen or so other hair things. I sighed and quickly added several of the things to the counter. I needed to brush my teeth and do my hair. As I stacked those things on the counter, I couldn’t help but notice that there were more things resting against the very back of the shelf. Against the wall sat two small pink boxes that were still in their clear wrapping from the drugstore. I frowned as I pulled them forward, moving them closer so that I could see them. The first was a new box of pregnancy tests. I shook the box; sure enough, it actually contained what it said it did. Part of me expected the box to be a decoy and to either be empty or filled with something outwardly sinister, like a camera. Why did he buy me pregnancy tests? I flipped the second box over and was greeted by a bulk box of ovulation test strips, meant to check for when I was ovulating. I winced equally at both of the packages. I quickly shoved them back into the cabinet and closed the door.

Part of me wanted to know why those were what he chose to buy me; the other part was scared to know the answer.

I quickly stood up and began to dry off. It was a short time between when I finished showering and when I stepped out into the bedroom, my hair styled with my curls down, my teeth brushed, and my skin dried of any excess water.

Stepping to the closet, I noticed that all of the dresses in the closet were too formal. Most of the clothes that I typically wore were missing. No t-shirts, jeans, or even standard pajamas. Damn it, Miguel. I quickly walked over to the dresser and opened the bottom drawer.

Based on what was there, my best bet was the baby pink nightie that lay on the top of the pile of clothes. It was obviously new; a tag was still attached to the spaghetti strap and frankly, I had never seen it before, so I figured that it was something he had picked out himself.

I pulled the dress on, wincing when it stopped several inches above my knees. I pulled on a pair of underwear and then snagged a grey cardigan from the closet in an attempt to have a chance at being warm.

What I was wearing was closer to lingerie than actual clothing, but that didn’t seem to matter at this point. He had dragged me around twice in my underwear, on top of the fact that he said he had watched me touch myself to him. My face burned at that thought.

Besides, if he was right and we were always together, then none of this would be new to him. But maybe it would make him be nicer to me if he thought I was being nicer to him.

I stepped through the hallway, careful not to lose my footing in the dim light. As I went, I couldn’t help but notice one of the more glaring differences between my universe and this was. The door to the room that rested next to the bedroom wasn’t stained with its dark russet shade. He had painted this door yellow. That was clearly a recent change; the air still smelled heavily of paint. But why the hell had he painted it in the first place? Maybe he was used to it being a different color and was perfecting it to fit his little fantasy.

I made my way downstairs. He was sitting in the small breakfast nook that rested in the kitchen. He had set out the white plates and arranged the food so that I had easy access to everything. As I rounded the corner, he glanced upward. Something stirred in his dark eyes, but he didn’t say anything. Miguel was sitting at the table, pushing around an eggroll with a plastic fork. He had changed out of his standard red and blue spider suit into an old sweatshirt and flannel pajama pants.

Lucky bastard.

He looked tired. He had a dark stain of blood on his left cheek and I was sure that it wasn’t his. I didn’t want to think about whether or not the owner of that blood was still alive, because I knew there was a good chance they weren’t. I watched him for a moment before I stepped away from the table. He frowned, watching me closely. I was sure he was watching to verify that I didn’t make another run for it. I quickly pulled a washcloth out of one of the lower cabinets by the sink and then turned on the faucet. Once the water ran warm, I wet the rag, wrung it out so that it wasn’t dripping, and then I turned off the water.

I stepped back into the small dining area. “Miguel.” I said in an attempt to get his attention. His tired eyes drifted up to meet mine. The eyes that were once a burning red were now a warm brown. They were almost the shade of coffee. He watched me with such an intensity that it made my face turn a dark maroon. I was sure that he noticed, but he didn’t remark on it.

I leaned down slightly, moving so that my standing height could line up with his sitting size. God, he was so damn tall. “Miguel, here. You have blood on your face.” He reached up to take the cloth but was surprised when I gently pressed the warm material to his face. “Just hold still for a second.” I whispered. For a moment, I couldn’t help but wonder if he had changed out of his suit for comfort or if it was just as coated in blood as his face was. The idea made me shudder internally.

I gently wiped away the dried blood, folding the cloth as I went so that I didn’t rub old blood against his face. When I reached the hollow of his cheek, I slipped one hand under his strong jaw and had him tilt his face to the side in an attempt to give me a better angle. He closed his eyes, giving in to the gentle touch.

He was touch starved. I could tell by the way his breathing slowed and the hairs on his arm stood on end. He wasn’t used to being touched; not anymore. Not in any way that offered any kind of tenderness.

“There you go. All clean.” I said. He opened his eyes and he nodded. His eyes then dipped downward toward my dress.

“Nice outfit.”

“It would appear that most of my actual clothing is gone. So, I have plenty of clothing for the bustling city life outside and I have plenty of lingerie, but everything else is a bit sparse.”

A smile pulled at his lips with my comment. Then, he nodded. “I’ll bring you your clothes from your home universe.”

“Thank you.” I said. Miguel leaned forward and grabbed a container of orange chicken.

He had ordered us Chinese food. It was something that I couldn’t help but note was the same as we had had on our first date. I glanced at the label and confirmed that it was the same restaurant and everything. We had eaten there the night we had first met. We had dipped out of a party at Alchemax early. I hadn’t wanted to be there, but my father had worked there for so many years that it almost felt like an obligation. When I had turned to leave too fast, I knocked wine all over Miguel, but he hadn’t seemed to mind.

“Are you okay?” This Miguel asked. I quickly nodded as I was pulled from the distant memory.

“I am. Thank you for dinner.” I pushed a small amount of food onto my plate and then returned the container to the center of the table.

“You need to eat; really eat.” He said. His brown eyes danced over my face as he searched for something in my gaze. He was hoping to find some kind of love there; a familiarity or affection that I could offer him.

“I feel sick.”

“That’s just because you aren’t used to being in a different universe. Consider it like jet lag. You’ll get used to it in a few days.” He noticed when I didn’t move to eat. I stared into space, feeling my previous convictions about being sweet to him begin to slip away. “I could always make you eat.” He said.

“You wouldn’t do that.” I muttered. He let out a low sigh and then returned to his food. He wasn’t going to argue with me. Or maybe I was right; maybe there were some things he wouldn’t be willing to do to me. But he had walked in sporting horror-movie levels of blood on his skin. So, who knows?

“Is there anything that’s bothering you?” He asked. “You can always ask me.”

“Are you going to lock me up in my room again if you don’t like the question?” I asked. He didn’t respond.

Tread lightly, I guess.

“Why do you look different than my Miguel?”

“I’m Spiderman. Your Miguel wasn’t. He was close, but he didn’t quite get there before…” His voice faded off. He was trying to be sensitive to me, in his own fucked up way. Or maybe his own narcissism wouldn’t allow him to talk about his failures, even in a different universe.

“Do all Spidermen look like you?” I asked.

“Are they all so devastatingly handsome? Afraid not, sweetheart. They don’t usually look the same. Hell, they can look like anything. I found one that’s literally a cartoon pig. But appearances aside, they can mostly do the same things: climb walls, shoot webs, the whole lot.”

“Ah.” I said. “Do they all have the…” I tapped my finger to my teeth, motioning for the fangs that protruded anytime he spoke. He shrugged.

“That seems to be a thing entirely unique to me.”

Did I sense a bit of insecurity there?

He furrowed his brow as he turned his attention to the dinner plate. Damn it, now I felt bad.

Why the hell did I feel bad for hurting his feelings? He kidnapped me and had dragged me around like a rag doll. But I couldn’t ignore the guilt that started to brew inside of me.

I sighed as I moved closer to him. Even if he was my captor, I couldn’t help but see him as the man who I still loved. Even if that ended at the physical resemblance. I slid to the edge of my chair and reached my arm out for his face. My fingers slid against the rough stubble of his jaw, tracing the side of his face for a moment. He leaned his head to the side, moving into my touch.

“I’m sorry.” I whispered. He nodded, lifting a hand upward. He laid his fingers on top of mine, holding my hand there against his skin. God, he was burning up. Did he always feel like this? Maybe he was actually sick. My Miguel never ran this warm. Or maybe it was just a side-effect of the spider bite. I didn’t understand any of that well enough to question it and I sure as hell wasn’t going to ask about it.

Suddenly, something clattered to the ground in the kitchen, making me jump. I pulled my hand back from his face, feeling the reality of the situation settle in. I slid my hand back into my lap, watching as his eyes lingered on for entirely too long. His brown eyes swam with a deep want. He wanted me to keep touching him.

Maybe sleeping with him would knock him out of this lovesick spell. Or maybe it would only make it worse. He stared at me, moony eyed and desperate. He was Miguel, even if he wasn’t my version of him. Maybe he could genuinely love me, even if only in his own fucked up way.

“If you loved him so deeply, do you think you could ever love me the same way?” He asked.

“Miguel…” I said. His face twitched slightly. I couldn’t say no; maybe I could, eventually. Or maybe he would become crueler, and I would hate him every second of my life. I didn’t know what to tell him. He leaned back in his chair, his face twisting in an attempt to conceal a deep pain.

Change the conversation quick. Change it before the night could descend in chaos with either us screaming at one another or him locking me in the room again. Or maybe he would just send me back to my own universe to die. After all, if he couldn’t get what he wanted from me, then there was no use in keeping me here.

He made a low noise and then returned to eating, never saying anything about how I had dismissed him.

“Why did you paint the door in the hallway?” I asked. He paused, trying to think up an answer. Then, he swallowed his dinner and shook his head.

“Just decided that it looked better that way.”

“But why? What was wrong with the original color?”

“Does it really bother you that much that I changed one thing?” He asked. His voice had an edge to it now. I clearly was not supposed to ask about the door. But why? It was just a damn door.

“No, but it’s weird that that is the one thing you decided to change. I figured that there was probably a reason.” He rolled his eyes as he took another big bite of food.

“Can’t you just be happy? Most people would overjoyed if they had the opportunity that you do.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure that most people would just love to be stolen from their bed by their boyfriend’s psycho twin. Frankly, that’s every woman’s dream.” My voice was dripping with so much sarcasm that he rolled his eyes. “How long are you planning on keeping this up? This isn’t the Truman Show. You can’t just keep me locked up here for the rest of my life so that you can get your kicks spying on me. And I’m not going to act out some fifties sitcom for you.”

“You don’t have to. I just want you to be… you. Or, as close to it as possible.” He said. As close to me as possible… the words rattled around in my head for a moment.

“You want me to be her.” His face twitched. “I lost him and you lost someone who looks exactly like me.”

Dear God, that was exactly it. All of my suspicions were correct. I was supposed to play house with him, while pretending to be a very specific version of myself that he had once loved. I had to be the perfect version of his wife; the one who doted on and loved him, or else this was all for nothing.

“Have you ever read The Great Gatsby?” I asked. He stared at me, his gaze littered with something.

“Tread lightly, sweetheart.”

“The book is about a man who tries to relive his past. He is so sure that repeating everything and making little adjustments will fix his world.” I swallowed hard, trying to make sure he understood what I was saying. I wasn’t his toy; I wasn’t meant to be wound up to perform for him. “Miguel, you can’t fix things by redoing them. People die. You have to let them go. If your wife died, you need to let her go.”

“I don’t hear you saying that about him.” He sneered.

“That’s because I didn’t kidnap you. I was willing to let you… to let him go.” All of the terms were confusing. This man looked like my Miguel, but he wasn’t. He was a different version of him, which I guess could also make him him, just a different kind. God, I was confusing myself.

“That’s bullshit. I know you want him back. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you look at me.”

“I think what you’re seeing is a mixture of fear and your own reflection.”

“You love me.” He said.

“I don’t know you, Miguel. I don’t know who you are. I know who you look like, but that doesn’t really help your situation.” I paused for a long moment. “How did she die?” I asked. He shook his head.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” He snapped. I flinched at his words.

“I have the right to know how she died.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t even know how your own husband died and you think you have the right to pry into my life.” With that, he pushed himself up from the table.

He tossed the plate into the sink and it shattered against the metal of the basin. I heard him swear in Spanish under his breath. He was pissed but he hadn’t meant to do that. Maybe that was just an every day occurrence with spider strength.

He began to head to the archway that separated the kitchen from the rest of the house. As he stepped, I heard him swearing under his breath. I also heard my name several times.

“Miguel, where are you going?” I asked.

“You hate me so much, maybe it would be better if I wasn’t around.”

“Miguel, where are you going?” I repeated. He muttered more words under his breath. I watched as he pushed several buttons on the sides of his wrist device. He flipped a top piece on the metal bracelet.

“Lyla-“ he started.

“What are you doing?” I asked. I pushed myself up from the table, following him as he left the kitchen. He didn’t reply. I rounded the corner, following as he stepped into the living room. Upon entering, I was nearly blinded by a massive orange and pink hole that swirled and twisted in the center of the room. With every step he took, he drifted closer to it.

So, that was how he managed to leave and then come back. If what he wore on his wrist was capable of doing it, I wondered if mine was, too. No, surely not. The intent was to keep me here; giving me an opportunity to escape would defeat the entire purpose. He said that if I took it off, I would die. I had no choice but to believe him on that front.

“Miguel.” Still no answer. “Where are you going?” He stepped toward the portal without a sound.

“Miguel, where the hell are you going?” I repeated.

He rolled his eyes as he glanced down at the device on his wrist.

“If you leave, what the hell am I supposed to do? There aren’t any people outside. I’m going to have to guess that all of the buildings are empty. Are you coming back? Am I going to starve to death? What if I get hurt? What if I fall down the stairs and die? When the hell are you coming back? How am I supposed to contact you?” The words fell out of my mouth so fast that I didn’t have the chance to consider if these were stupid questions.

“That’s what you’re worried about?” He scoffed. But he didn’t offer me any kind of actual answer.

“Miguel, you said you were my husband. You can’t just abandon me.” He flinched, but he still did not turn around. “Please…” I begged. If he left, I was stranded. At least with him here, I was guaranteed human contact and sustenance.

“Miguel, I need you.” I said. As the words left my mouth, I did the only thing I could think of to get his attention. I slid my hand up to the cardigan and quickly slipped it off of my shoulders. He didn’t seem to notice or care when it dropped to the ground below me. I then reached upward and grabbed onto the thin spaghetti straps of the pink nightgown. Without hesitation, I pulled them over either shoulder, allowing the gown to slide entirely off my body and pool onto the floor at my feet.

“Miguel.” I repeated. This time, my voice was no louder than a whisper. That was enough to get his attention. Or maybe he had heard the dress gather on the floor at my feet. I swallowed hard, feeling the cold bite at my bare skin. I was standing almost naked in the middle of the living room, wearing only a thin pair of underwear that offered very little coverage.

Miguel glanced backward. His eyes caught expanse of my bare skin and I swore I saw him smile.

“Don’t leave.” I said. I lifted my hands and crossed my arms. It was a force of habit. I felt so exposed like this. Though, I quickly lowered my hands, knowing that getting his attention was my best chance at him staying.

He turned around to face me. “Please say something, Miguel.” I whispered. The longer I went without a reaction, the more I started to feel like an idiot for this. Maybe I had just made myself look stupid in front of him. Or, better yet, maybe this was something his wife wouldn’t have done; maybe this would make him send me back home to die.

He slunk forward, a predator approaching prey. I saw the portal swirl into a smaller and smaller hole in the universe. Then, it closed, leaving us alone in the dim light of the living room.

Miguel moved so that he was only a few inches in front of me. The material of his shirt grazed my naked skin, making me wince. The shirt was too rough against my goosebump littered flesh. He stared down at me. As he did, his eyes turned from warm brown to a deep red again.

His palm drifted up to cup my cheek. His skin burned to the touch. I swallowed hard, feeling his fingers stroke the side of my face. It was almost as if he was petting me; like I was a toy for him to play with. He leaned down. His lips grazed the shell of my ear as he whispered, “Let me know if I hurt you.”

“Huh?” He pressed his mouth against mine, hard. His lips were warm as he began to work them, moving them so that they forced my mouth open. I moaned, overwhelmed by it all. As his lips slid against mine, I was sure that I would be bruised tomorrow.

A fang brushed my bottom lip, making me gasp. “Gentle, Miguel.” I whispered.

“Sorry.” His warm breath covered my face. He smelled intoxicating. He straightened his stance, moving away from me. When he pulled away, I let out an audible whimper.

God, please tell me I didn’t genuinely want him. I swallowed hard, feeling myself getting slick between my thighs. I was sure that if he looked, he would see a spot forming in my underwear.

I wanted to hold him. I tried to grab his shoulders, but our heights were too off. He was too tall for me to grab hold of. I pushed myself onto my tippy toes, but even that wasn’t enough. I was still too short for him. Miguel noticed this and leaned downward, allowing me to curl my arms around his strong shoulders.

“That’s my girl.” He slipped his hands down and curled his fingers around my bare thighs. He jerked my body upward. I curled my legs around his hips. He was already getting hard, causing his pajama bottoms to strain.

Miguel stepped forward, carrying me up the stairs. I knew where we were going: the bedroom. I pressed a gentle kiss against his cheek. Even in the dark, I could tell he smiled.

He was getting exactly what he had wanted. But I couldn’t bring myself to make it all stop. I wanted him. I had craved him for so long and here he was. He wasn’t my Miguel, but maybe he wouldn’t die. He was stronger than my Miguel. Maybe that would allow him to stick around.

He twisted the door handle, leaving deep dents in the shape of his fingers in the cold metal. He was trying his hardest to be gentle with me, but I knew it was a battle he would most likely lose.

He tossed me on the bed, throwing me just a tad too hard. I landed on the opposite side of the mattress, groaning as my head almost collided with the wooden headboard. “Miguel.”

“I know, I know.” He teased. He flipped his hand over, shooting a fine web that caught my ankle. “Come here, sweetheart.” He rolled the webbing around his fingers, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling my body sliding across the sheets. He dragged me down to the edge of the bed.

“Miguel!” I squealed. He smirked as he pressed his knees into the bed, pulling me so that I was only a few inches away from him. He pulled the web off my skin, making sure that it didn’t hurt me.

“Do you do that a lot?” I asked.

“As often as you, sweetheart. Next time, I can web you to the headboard.” My face flashed bright red. He chuckled.

Miguel reached down and grabbed the bottom of his sweatshirt. He hauled it upward, pulling it over his head before discarding it on the floor. Taut muscles danced under his skin. Every inch of him was bound in hard muscle, covered in perfect skin.

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against my knee. His fingers wandered up my thighs, feeling my bare skin. He pushed his other hand into the mattress.

“Miguel, please.”

“Please what?” He asked. I took his free hand in mine and guided it up to my chest. He moaned, offering a soft squeeze.

Miquel scrambled up to my chest. He caught my nipple in his mouth and moaned, licking the sensitive skin as he sucked. His fingers kneaded my other breast, stopping every once in a while to offer the hard peak a gentle pinch.

I brushed my fingers through his dark hair. He smiled against my skin, releasing my nipple from his mouth. “What?” I asked.

“Let me know if I’m too rough with you.” With that he slinked down to the warm skin of my thighs. He traced his lips across the bare skin. As he went, he opened his lips to gently suck and kiss the bare flesh. Every so often I would feel a burst of pain that lasted no longer than a second. He mumbled something against my skin. I pushed myself up onto my elbows, moving so that I could see what he was doing.

Another sharp pain shot through my left thigh as he buried his face in my skin. Miguel glanced upward, feeling my eyes on him. His fangs had nipped my bare skin, making me yelp. “I’ll be more gentle.” His voice was warm and weighted with lust.

He slipped upward and slid his fingers under the waist of my panties. He bit the material with his teeth. I heard him snip the material and rolled my eyes.

“You can’t do that to all of my clothes. I barely have any to begin with.”

“I’ll buy you whatever you want.” He pressed a warm kiss against my bare hip. Then, he moved to the other side. He repeated the same action, slicing through the material using his fangs. He placed a kiss on that side, as well.

“You’re such a showoff.”

“Am not.”

“You could have just pulled them off of me the normal way.” I fought back a laugh.

“I can bench press a city bus. I don’t need to showoff to you. Besides, learn to have some sense of romance.” He threw the remains of the panties onto the floor. He immediately pressed a soft kiss against the mound that had been covered by my underwear.

He was extremely careful when he shifted downward. But the dull ache on the skin of my thighs where he had bit made me want to make my only request. “Hey, no teeth.”

“Funny, that’s what I always tell you.” He muttered. I rolled my eyes. “Lay back and hush up.”

“You’re so damn bossy.” I shifted on the mattress, spreading my legs wider for him. He placed his hand across my folds and gently spread them to expose my clit. He flicked his tongue across my clit. “Fuck, Miguel.” I lifted my hips off the bed, moving closer to his face.

He started to work, flicking his tongue over my clit as the index finger on his free hand traced my opened. He collected my wetness on his finger, sliding it around to make sure that I was good to go. Then, he slipped in his middle and index finger, sinking in until his knuckles touched my pussy.

I moaned, feeling his tongue work its magic.

Fuck, he was good at this.

He curled his fingers inside of me, brushing my sweet spot. I grabbed the back of his head, feeling his head bob under my palm as he licked.

Then, something occurred to me. He knew every inch of my body because he had fucked me thousands of times in the past. Even if it wasn’t me, it was a girl who was exactly like me. Maybe I was just that predicable. Or maybe he was just that good.

He picked up his speed, lapping between my folds as I curled my fingers in his hair. I was close and he could feel it. He could feel the twitches and miniatures spasms on his tongue as he worked. “Miguel, I’m close!” I whimpered.

He licked faster. Suddenly, pleasure shot through me, filling me with a white-hot heat. I moaned, spasming around his fingers as I came undone.

Miguel whispered something into my thigh as he pushed himself off the bed. Then, he pulled down his pajama bottoms, allowing for his cock to spring upward. It smacked against his lower stomach, heavy and decorated with a dark vein that ran along the underside. He kicked his pants off into the floor and then crawled on top of me.

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips. I could taste myself on his lips.

“This may hurt at first. I won’t move until you’re ready.” He said. He reached down between us. I watched as he grabbed his dick, stroked himself twice, and then lined himself up with my entrance. Without another word, he slid inside, making me gasp. I curled my legs around his hips, pulling him in deep as possible. “That’s my girl.”

I was overwhelmed with a stretching sensation. Arms rested on either side of my head as he stayed in place, waiting for me. After a moment, I leaned forward and kissed him, giving him the go ahead. One hand drifted up to my face. He caressed my cheek and his lips glided against mine.

He drew his hips back, sliding nearly all the way out. Then, thrusted upward, hitting deep inside of me. I gasped into his mouth. “I forgot how tight you are.” He murmured, his words slurring together.

My hands slid down his muscled back as he started to fuck himself into me. All the while, he kept his mouth on mine. I could feel his heart beating against my chest as he worked.

“Miguel…” I moaned, rocking my hips against him. I could feel my lower stomach tightening.

Suddenly, he whispered my name. It was so gentle that it was almost unsettling, considering the circumstances. I glanced up to meet his gaze. But as my eyes met his, he dipped downward. He buried his face in the curve of my neck so that I couldn’t see his eyes.

“Miguel, what’s wrong?”

He rutted his hips upward, burying himself as deep as possible. I gasped, digging my nails into his back. Despite how hard I had sunk them in, they didn’t break the skin. He was indestructible… at least, physically. I slid one hand across the skin of his back, moving to his dark hair. I could have sworn I heard him murmuring something into my neck. I could feel his lips moving against my skin, offering some kind of low prayer. But to who?

“Miguel…” He pulled his hips back again and then quickly slid inside of me again, grinding his hips against me to get a reaction. I gasped, tightening my hold on his hair.

“Say you love me.” His voice was dreamy, and his words slurred from pleasure.

“What?” I asked. It caught me off guard.

“Say it.”

“I love you.” I felt his hips still their movements. He was weighing the authenticity of my words. After a moment, he lifted his head from my neck.

“Say it again.” His eyes peered into mine. He was searching for something in my stare.

“I love you.”

“Good girl.” With that, he continued to beat into me, groaning when I would tense around him.

We were both close. I could tell by the chorus of whimpers and moans that were filling the room. That familiar tightening in my stomach was close to coming entirely undone.

He pivoted his hips, hitting the perfect spot inside of me. Miguel stared down at my features. He wanted something very specific from me before he finished. He ground his hips, making me gasp.

Fucking hell, Miguel.

With that, I felt myself come undone. Pleasure shot through me, making me clamp down on his dick. He grunted, never stopping his movements. “Miguel, I love you!” He groaned at my words. He kept hitting deep inside of me, making sure to grind himself against me every couple of thrusts.

His orgasm overtook him. He groaned my name as he gave one final thrust, hitting deep. I felt his body tense under my hands.

Slowly, we both came down from our highs. We were dragged back to the reality of the bedroom. The day had faded into night, leaving us in darkness.

He had finished inside of me. I could feel a deep warmth inside of my stomach. I also felt a distinct wetness that was hard to ignore. I sighed, relaxing into the mattress. I unhooked my legs, waiting for him to slide out of me. But, instead, he reached behind him and closed my legs again.

“No…” He murmured. Then, he leaned down and pressed a kiss against my lips. In this position, I could feel his heartbeat against my chest. It was so intimate; so loving. Maybe he really did see me as his wife. He pressed another gentle kiss against my mouth. I closed my eyes, giving into the softness of the moment.

“You have to do something for me.” He said. I opened my eyes to look at him.

“Okay.”

“I want you to love me like you loved him. I want you to look at me like I’m your hero and that I’m special.” He inhaled sharply before he reached forward to brush one of my curls off of my forehead. “I want you to care if I die.”

I nodded. What other option was there? I was trapped in his little universe; it’s not like I could ever leave or be with anyone else. Besides, we were still literally connected at the hip.

After what felt like an eternity, he slid out of me. He leaned back on the balls of his feet to inspect me. I immediately closed my legs, though that did little good. He reached forward and grabbed my knees, prying my thighs apart. Warm cum dribbled out of me, coating the naked skin of my upper thighs.

He smirked at his handy work before pushing himself off of the bed. He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, turning on the faucet and grabbing a towel from the cabinet.

It was then that something occurred to me. “Miguel, I’m not on birth control.” I said. He nodded, acting as if I had just told him about the weather. He stepped out of the bathroom holding a damp washcloth. “Miguel.”

“What, sweetheart?” I stared at him, feeling my mind begin to race. He climbed onto the bed, moving to where I was laying. He sat down between my thighs and gently began to clean the remains of him off of my skin.

“You didn’t… you didn’t use a condom and I’m not on birth control.” I said. I could feel my heart beginning to race. Why wasn’t this bothering him in the same way?

“You’re my wife.” He said as he wiped my skin.

“Miguel.” I repeated. I wanted him to react.

“What are you wanting me to say?”

“Anything.” I said. I wanted some kind of actual reaction.

“Things are exactly as they need to be. Whatever happens, happens.”

“That’s not an answer.” I said.

“Maybe you need to learn to be happy with what you’re already working with.” He finished cleaning me up and then walked to the bathroom. He had made sure to only clean the skin outside of my body. He didn’t try to remove any of the fluid inside of me, despite how much there was.

He came back to the bed and quickly climbed in. “You should get some sleep.” He said. I stared at him, searching for some idea about what he was thinking. He offered a soft smile in return.

Was he fucking with me?

Did he really love me or was he just using me as a quick screw?

Did he actually want me to be his wife… or was this some fucked up mind game of his?

He leaned back against the pillows and then lifted his hand. He curled a finger toward him, motioning for me to come. “I’m not a dog.” I muttered.

“Then be a good girl and do as I ask.” He reached forward and gently grabbed my body. He slid me closer to him, moving me so that my head lay against his bare chest.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Afraid so.” He said. He placed one hand on my shoulder and the other on my side. He slid his fingers up and down either side of my body, taking in every soft dip and curve. Every so often he would lean down and kiss the top of my head.

I couldn’t help but notice the way that his fingers traced over my lower stomach. He looked wistful as he traced the soft skin. I squirmed, feeling insecure.

“Stop wiggling and get some sleep.”

“Then stop feeling me up.”

“I’m not feeling you up. I’m trying to be nice to you.” He murmured against the top of my head. He pressed another kiss against my hair.

“You’re an ass.” I muttered. I rolled his eyes as he continued to pet my bare skin. His heartbeat played in my ear.

As I began to drift off to sleep, I felt him begin to play with my frizzed curls. He would coil a stand of hair around his finger and then let it go, satisfied with the soft curl that had formed.

It was something that my Miguel liked to do, as well.

Maybe they weren’t all that different.

I heard his strong heartbeat against my ear as I faded away from the room.

Before I fell asleep, Miguel pressed a gentle kiss against my forehead. “Please don’t leave me.” He whispered.

I love you...

#miguel o'hara #Miguel Ohara smut #Miguel o'hara smut #Miguel O'Hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #Miguel ohara x you #Miguel o'hara x you #Miguel ohara imagines #Miguel ohara fanfiction #spiderman99 smut #spider verse smut

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ode2rin · 5 months

Text

Rin thinks you’re pretty.

No, scratch that; it was far too inadequate to describe you that way. If he were to be utterly honest, you were exquisitely, heartbreakingly beautiful, far more than his heart could contain.

You’re pretty when you spoke, when you said his name, when you smiled – oh God, don't even get him started on how your smile could brighten even the darkest of days. He was certain that a face like yours was meant for smiling, and it was even brighter when he was the reason behind it.

Right now, however, Rin finds it hard to look at your face when you’re like this – crying.

and it is even worse when he’s the source of it.

“Stop crying, dumbass,” he whispered, sighing.

“Then stop getting into fights, you asshole,” you retorted back in between sobs.

Rin fell silent after your reply. He couldn't find the right words, not with your sobs filling the room and drowning his thoughts. He watched you as you applied a small amount of betadine to a cotton swab and wiped away your tears before turning to him.

“Take a seat. Let me clean that,” you offered, pertaining to the small cut o n his lip.

Rin took one long look at your face, and without a word, he moved to the corner of your bed, feeling the familiar dip of the mattress beneath him while you pulled the chair beside your table and placed it in front of him.

He'd been here countless times before. Growing up with your mothers being best friends meant that you were practically childhood friends by default, and that also meant spending endless hours in each other's homes.

But this time was different from all the previous visits; it was the first time he was in your room, no longer just a close friend anymore. That reality and your crushing tears – they were consuming all corners of his thoughts.

You closed the gap between you two to get a better look at the swollen cut from a blow he had taken. You gently dabbed the swab around the wound and felt Rin's sharp intake of breath as you did so.

You began to reason, “This wouldn't happen if you could've just–”

“I don't want to hear it.”

You bit your lower lip and tears started swelling again in the corner of your eyes. Rin was nothing if not so fucking stubborn– that you knew since childhood, but you wished he could put it aside for a moment and truly listen to you.

“Okay,” you coldly said, conceding and turning your focus on cleaning his wound.

Rin wanted to pummel his own self in the ground because of the passing hurt that graced your eyes from how he cut you off. A sniff escaped you and Rin physically felt his heart contract.

What was he supposed to do? Stand by and let those damn assholes make lewd comments about you? There was no way in hell he would just let it slide.

This wasn't the first time Rin had taken matters into his own hands when it came to you. Since third grade, Rin had taken his mom's words about looking after you to heart. And it had always been that way, even back when he was hellbent in denying his feelings. Not an ounce of rationality graces his mind when it comes to you, so you should've already known that he didn't have it in him to hold back.

He caught your hand and gently squeezed it. The gesture prompted you to look at him briefly before turning your gaze away, still hurt from his dismissal of your concern.

“I didn’t mean that,” he squeezes your hand again, “Look at me, please.”

You turned your head to meet your stubborn boyfriend. This time, you let the tears fall freely.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, sincere and uncharacteristically gentle, “Speak to me, y/n.”

“I just..” you sobbed, “I don’t like it when you get hurt. That’s all.”

“I don’t like it more when you get hurt,” he countered.

“It's just some stupid words from stupid people, Rin. They're not worth it.”

“But you are.”

Your heart raced at Rin's words. when you raise your gaze to seek his’, you are met with a pair of half-lidded teal eyes staring right into you.

“You’re the one who’s worth it.”

Rin's words lingered in the air, leaving you utterly speechless. You never expected him to utter something so heartfelt – after all, this was Itoshi Rin. A man capable of almost anything, yet kind words seemed to be an exception. Then again, this was Rin, the very same man who believed he wasn't adept at love and yet chose to lay his heart bare in your palms, albeit a bit stubbornly.

As you struggled to find words to express how much his words meant to you, Rin gently raised his hands to wipe away the lingering tears in your eyes. His fingers brushed against the loose strands of hair nearly covering your eyes, tucking them away with meticulous care. His touch was so gentle that it’s almost hard to believe it was the same hands who mercilessly struck two men hours ago.

His other hand snaked around your waist, pulling you closer until you were almost seated on his right leg. The closeness made your heart swell, and you couldn't help but nestle into his warmth.

“Stop crying, please?” he murmured, “you’re getting your snot in my shirt.”

Way to ruin a moment. “I hate you,” you jokingly scoff against his neck.

“No, you don’t,” he disagrees, so full of conviction it needed some humbling.

“You bet? No kisses,” you see him smirk at your declaration, “until that cut completely heals,” you added, wiping that smirk on his face.

A laugh escaped you at the sudden shift in his expression. gone was the challenged smirk and all that's left are furrowed brows and a subtle pout.

How dare you take that away from him? Maybe you do hate him, Rin is convinced.

“Still worth it, baby?” you ribbed, seemingly enjoying his misery.

“Yes.” with you finally smiling? Absolutely. You’re smiling, and sometimes, it’s enough and more – even for Itoshi Rin.

note. ode2RIN comeback because of rinturn 2023 (I KNOW IT'S LATE)

#☁️ my ode to you #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin #itoshi rin fluff #itoshi rin x y/n #blue lock x reader #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #bllk x reader #bllk imagines #rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi #blue lock

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 16 days

Text

Away From The Past - Max Verstappen

Request from anon - My apologies if this is too dark. I recently came face to face with a person who sexually assaulted me for a while when I was a child. Would you be open to writing an imagine where Max Verstappen finds out his best friend is experiencing this? Could it be friends to lovers?

Sensitive themes/warnings: Mentions of previous SA, PTSD

I know it's anon but if anyone reads this can we send some love in the replies to the requester? I think they could use some love even just from strangers online.

Sidenotes: I am going to give the abuser a name, sorry if it's a name of someone you love or are friends with. It's just a random name I've plucked from a generator.

No part 2 requests please

As much as someone can wish something not to happen. It doesn't actually bring it into a reality.

Y/n wished she's never have to see him again. But in reality she knew that was unrealistic. Especially because she's somehow befriended the current F1 champion and Gavin was always a fan of F1.

He's also fairly well off in finances so perhaps she should've suspected one day he might be at a race at the same time as her. But really she'd tried to keep thoughts about him to a minimum if she could.

She saw him with the paddock pass and sick had risen up her throat in an instant. Flash of memories she'd try to bury as deep as possible surfacing aggressively to the forefront of her mind.

More than one person had seen her pale and tearful state, they'd tried to catch her and calm her down from whatever spooked her. But they were too close in proximity to him and she is in not any rational state of mind to speak to them.

Y/n only speeds up as her mind tries to find some grounding.

Sadly, her body gets there first when she bumps into someone, then tripping and bumping into another body that she takes down with her.

"I know you are excited to be here, but you-Y/n?" Max frowns as she scrambles up, her thoughts in a panicked frenzy as her panic to get away from Gavin. "Y/n?"

"Max." Y/n chokes out suddenly brought back down to earth like she's just been body slammed.

She almost feels winded suddenly as Max manages to somehow get them both up and on their feet.

She doesn't really hear what he says next, she only knows she's looking back behind them while Max tries to get her inside, away from prying eyes who have just watched Max be tackled by a young woman and entirely by accident.

"Ok." Max soothes sitting her down and look at her with eyes that fail to hide his concern. "What's going on?"

"Nothing." Y/n mumbles earning a raised eyebrow. "It's not really something I want to discuss right in this moment."

Max sighs and nods then standing up and getting her a glass of water.

Max mustn't have much going on today because he is very much content in sitting with her as long as she needs even without her knowing if she wants to go out into the paddock again.

"You don't have to tell me. But I'm here if you need to-"

"There's a man here...who hurt me when I was younger and...I just saw him and panicked." Y/n mumbles with a thick swallow.

"He hurt you?" Max echoes in question, but he really doesn't need any repeat or future explanation. Hell any for of hurt, physical or emotional is enough for Max to decide this man has to go. "What's his name?"

"W-What?"

"His name. What is his name?" Max urges trying to keep a gentle tone since she only just calmed down.

"Gavin Smith." Y/n mumbles making hum nod. "Why?"

"Well he is not going to stay in the paddock if he's hurt you, he could hurt someone else. It's for your safety and everyone else's." Max frowns standing up while she looks at him for a moment, very much in shock about it.

"Fucking hell." Y/n sighs before she rubs her hands over her face with a heavy sigh. "Max, you can't do that. I-I mean he probably didn't even see me. It's not like he ever paid for what he did for me."

"Well...it might not really be how he should pay for it, but he's going to pay for it today." Max declares making her eyes widen as he stands up but his hands gently push her back down. "You stay here, I'll handle it."

Y/n stutters over unspoken words but Max is gone and with her not wanting to chance chasing him out and running into Gavin. She remains sat while Max speaks to whoever he can apparently speak to in order to get Gavin kicked out from the paddock and possibly the whole race as an event.

Max reported back to y/n with a smile of success and victory over the fact that he'd made sure she'd be comfortable in the paddock and feel safe there.

But as much as y/n wanted to appreciate it. Her mind had been fried and her mood has been dampened for the weekend.

Not that Max is allowing that to stop him from making several attempts at perking her mood up. From getting her in the garage to just kind of giving her the most inclusive experience of the day.

Perking up her mood is a nice additional goal, but really Max is actually wanting to just keep an eye on her.

It really goes on like that the whole weekend. Obviously Max's attention is forced to focus elsewhere.

"Have I ever told you, you have the coolest job?" Y/n asks as she walks with Max into the hotel.

"Maybe once or twice." Max teases knowing y/n has definitely told him that much more than once.

"Once or twice only?" Y/n smiles lightly, slowly letting her usual persona peak back through a bit. But her smile drops almost as soon as it arrived.

"Do you want to come to my room and just hang out for a bit? You can go on the sim..." Max offers wanting to do anything to bring back y/n's smile.

"I can?"

"Yeah, Don't beat the hell out of me again though please." Max jokes since actually on one occasion which has yet to be repeated she managed to beat a lap time record he'd set.

Y/n does go up to Max's room and he helps set her up on the sim, then just sitting beside her on the floor to watch how she does. By some miracle he manages to bite his lip to keep any backseat driving silent.

After she manages to crash pretty hard, y/n ends up giving up with some laughter.

Eventually they also get something to eat, and it doesn't take long for Max to begin to really notice why he's enjoying her company so much and why he wants to protect y/n so much. Obviously he'd enjoy her company and want to protect her just as friend, but there's something much more development with flutters in his chest whenever he sees her smile.

But also he felt a type of upset he'd never felt that hit him to the core when he saw her upset.

He also felt like he had an inclination of what happened to her when she was younger at Gavin's hands. Above and before all else, he wants to make sure no harm can come to her again and he wants to make sure the Gavin never gets the opportunity to be near her again.

The man was in a rage when he was informed of his paddock pass and weekend ticket being revoked for no reason other than Max had explained that he was a threat to the safety of others and he wanted him gone as matter of security.

"Y/n...would you come with me to the rest of the races?"

"The rest of the races? That's nearly the entire season." Y/n laughs lightly then making him look at her.

"Well I have quite a busy schedule and I think taking you on dates while you come around to races will be a good way to spend the spare time I get on weekends...if you'd let me take you on a date?" Max smiles lightly making her look at him. "I just...realised today how much you mean to me and if you just want to be friends that's fine, but if you would like to be more than friends I'd like to try it out."

"You realise I'm not exactly an easy person to date like I'm easy to be friends with, Max." Y/n mumbles swallowing thickly. "Gavin...really fucked me up."

"And I want to help you with that, and I want to do it as your boyfriend as much as your friend...I don't care about the past in anyway apart from helping you heal from it." Max states shifting forward and trying to catch her gaze. "If you'll let me."

Y/n takes a couple deep breaths, looking at him for a moment before she smiles and nods biting her lip lightly. Her face trying to hide the idea o travelling with Max around to races and going on dates while he really tries to help her heal.

"You're already better than I deserve." Y/n sighs earning a hug and shake of the head.

"Don't be silly. The whole world knows I'm a horrible person." Max jokes earning a taste and gentle swat for being unkind to himself even as a joke. "But we are both going to prove each other's worth."

Taglist: @namgification @hiireadstuff @jsjcue @geniusalpaca @itsjustkhaos @llando4norris @partyinpitlane @lpab @xoscar03 @harrysdimple05 @mellowarcadefun @cixrosie @scopeiguess @racingheartsposts @c-losur3 @jehun @bethanymccauley @randomnessis-mine-me @sunf1ower16 @8justme @bborra @igotnorrrizz @unknownmystery22 @aeri101 @neilakk @d3kstar

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rene-darling · 2 months

Note

Soooo ahem- what if traveller calls Xiao's name while our babygirl is busy moaning in the best part??

GETTING- Interrupted while doing the nasty.

OMG YES!! Love your brain darling, this but with other genshin men as well.

...kazuha...tighnari...itto...Xiao...

Kazuha

You're his first priority doesn't matter if he's the one fully naked.

He's probably more red than before but he'll cover you up first

Glares at whoever walks in but it's more of an embarrassed glare.

After that person leaves he'll just sigh and probably won't be in the mood anymore.

But if you coax him a bit he'll be raring to go soon enough.

It's an embarrassing memory which he wishes he could forget

The next day when he sees that person who walked in he's very chill and acts calm and collected like nothing happened.

Tighnari

Shocked and pissed.

With work it's already hard to find time for each other and now when you finally get the chance someone interrupts

Immediately covers himself with his tail

It's like an instinct, he'll cover you too

He sends the person off with a nasty glare and then refuses to resume your previous activities,

He's ashamed beyond belief and gives you an earful for not locking the door.

Cannot face the person who caught you both for a while..

Itto

Doesn't realise.

Bro keeps going until you have to physically stop him

Once he finally sees that someone has intruded on your private time he just stares..for a moment, before letting out the most shrill scream ever known to man.

You can't believe such a scream can be from a bug muscular man such as itto

He chases intruder out the room..forgetting the part where he's naked.

You have to run after him before he runs into his gang and embarrasses himself further

Xiao

Pretty back arching and hands tightly gripping at the sheets, xiaos trying desperately to last longer. But, you're just not giving him the chance to hold back any longer.

He moans your name like a mantra as if it is the only word he knows. He could feel that he was close, arching his back he looked back leaning into you muttering your name.

He was close, he could feel it..it felt so good. Sweat dripped off of him and he could feel himself becoming closer, and closer, and- "adeptus xiao~ we need your help-"

Immediately the traveler's hands shoot up to cover piamons eyes. It takes Xiao a second to realize that he's no longer in bed with you...

His eyes widen. He stiffens as he's overcome by pure shame and embarrassment, horrified he tries to jumble a sentence together but fails, too stunned to speak.

He immediately teleports back falling onto the floor of your room. "xiao..there you are..where the hell did you go?" your question doesn't get an answer by the panicked adeptus who looks like he saw a ghost.

You have to calm him down, and there is no chance in hell you can continue what you guys were doing beforehand.

After said incident, he refrains from having intimacy for a good while, too traumatized by the prospect of the past repeating itself.

He's also too embarrassed to face the traveller in the coming weeks, running away whenever they get even a little close.

Safe to say you've lost love-making privileges all because of the traveler..damn...you won't get to see that xiaoussy for a while🙏

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jinjeriffic · 3 months

Text

DC x DP prompt/ficlet

Throwing my hat in the ring with this idea that has been doing the zoomies in my brain for days. The Tim/Danny Accidental Ghost Marriage to Fake Dating to Friends to Lovers AU:

Pariah Dark was a piece of shit. Before his imprisonment, mortals would sometimes manage to bargain with the Ghost King for scraps of power. One of the "standard" deals was to send PD a "Bride" to play with and feed on (because I HC he feeds on fear and pain) and what better way than a little mortal battery that couldn't get away from him? The deal was sealed with a cursed amulet. Now in one instance, the contract was never fulfilled (maybe the petitioner died before he could complete his half) and the amulet was lost. After Pariah was imprisoned and couldn't make deals anymore the knowledge of the rituals needed was gradually forgotten since they didn't work anymore...

Eventually the amulet gets dug up by archeologists (maybe in Egypt or Mesopotamia?) and ends up in a traveling exhibit in Gotham. A Rogue robs the place (Riddler? Two-Face? doesn't really matter). When the Bats show up to foil the robbery, during the fight with the goons a drop of Red Robin's blood gets on the amulet, there's a blinding flash of green light and the amulet is suddenly glued to him.

While everyone is dazed by the ghostly magic flashbang, Fright Knight pops out of a portal, yoinks Red Robin across his saddle and jumps back through the portal before anyone can stop him. Cue the Bats trying to frantically figure out what in the multi-dimensional occult hell happened and where RR went?!

Meanwhile, Danny is disturbed to receive a ghostly missive in his college dorm to tell him that his Mail Order Bride has been delivered to his Ghost Zone Palace and is awaiting him so they can consummate their Unholy Matrimony.

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

Danny: Wtf I have to study I don't have time to get MARRIED

Fright Knight: I'm sorry my liege, but according to the laws of ghosts, gods and magic you already ARE

Danny: Wtf. How did this happen?

RR: I would like to know that too

Danny: Oh shit, you're a superhero. Frighty, you can't just kidnap people! Especially not SUPERHEROES!

RR: While that's good to hear, I would really like to know about this supposed marriage..?

FK: I am not aware of the exact details, I was merely summoned to retrieve the Bride of the Ghost King. There used to be standard magical contracts for this, which went into effect when the Bride bled on the King's Token...

RR: Shit

Danny: Hold on, PARIAH got married? Multiple times??

FK: ...but we can always consult the Royal Archivist, if we can dig him out from under the several thousand years worth of paperwork that piled up while there was no King actively ruling...

Danny: Oh ancients, am I gonna have to deal with that?? I have exams to prepare for, dude!

RR: ...the dead still have to do exams? And paperwork?? *horror*

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

Some time and explanations later...

Royal Archivist: It took some digging, but I believe I have found the contract in question. You are one Timothy Drake-Wayne, correct?

Tim: Fml

RA: Ahem. The contract was sealed with your mortal blood, as is standard procedure. Congratulations, you are officially King-Consort of the Infinite Realms! Until death do you part, and all that

Danny: Can I see that contract? ...This isn't in English

RA: Oh dear, looks like we will have to schedule your Royal Highness classes in reading cuneiform/hieroglyphics

Tim: Okay, does it say anywhere in that contract how to dissolve it? What's the procedure for a ghost divorce? Fright Knight mentioned the previous king being married multiple times

RA: Well usually, when Pariah tired of a consort he would simply devour their soul...

Danny: Ewwwww I am so not doing that

Tim: I concur. I can't imagine my soul would taste good anyway

Danny: That's what you took from that??

RA: ...but when you die and your soul passes into the Afterlife proper, the contract will be fulfilled. As long as you're not resurrected again.

Tim: Nuts, there goes that loophole

RA: Until then you are the Consort and duty-bound to fulfill his Royal Highness' every whim; ghostly, spiritual, carnal...

Danny: *sinks through the floor in embarrassment*

Tim: Can't he just... release me from the contract? Take the amulet off me or something?

RA: Not without obliterating your soul, no

Danny and Tim: Fuck

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

Some time later, while Danny is away consulting other ghosts on possible ways of dissolving the contract, they discover the nasty little clause that if Tim isn't in regular physical contact with Danny the amulet starts draining his life force. To prevent victims from escaping you see... Danny really really hates Pariah right now.

They eventually return to the mortal plane to explain to the Batfam what the hell is going on and that they're still trying to fix it. In the meantime, Danny can't miss any more classes (studying areospace engineering at MIT or sth) and Tim has to stick close to him because of the curse...

Alfred: Oh dear, looks like Master Timothy will have to go to college after all *unflappable British Smugness*

Bruce pulls a lot of strings to fast track Tim getting his high school diploma and let him attend classes with Danny (he's not officially enrolled yet, but Money, Dear Boy). They never know when Danny has to respond to a ghost emergency or Red Robin to a Bat emergency, so they stay pretty much joined at the hip in their civilian lives. Of course there's gonna be rumors. Why did the Wayne CEO suddenly drop everything to go to college? So they make up a story about Danny and Tim having been secret boyfriends for a while and Tim becoming so smitten that he moves with him to Boston...

Cue the fake dates, interviews with magazines, couple photoshoots to really sell the bit... and the two young men gradually becoming friends... and then "Feelings?? But what do I do?? He was forced into this?" etc.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #tim drake #red robin #danny fenton #ficlet #batman #batfam #accidental marriage #arranged marriage

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charliemwrites · 1 month

Text

Oooooh I finally did it!! Mafia au part 6! A little bit of that sweet angst/comfort.

Let it be said: Johnny’s no snitch.

Outgoing (“loud” Simon would grumble) as he is, he doesn’t run his mouth about anything important. Doesn’t talk business over a pint or boast his connections in bar disagreements. Doesn’t drop names, flash heat, throw around the weight of his employer. Has never spilled a single fucking secret, not for knives, acid, a fucking gun to his head.

Oh, and please don’t tell the boss.

Let it also be said: Johnny is loyal.

He would happily lay down his life for any of his comrades, lives and dies for SpecGru – for Price. And even though you’re new, you’re one of them now. You’ve quickly found and secured your place in Price’s inner circle, different as you may be. Johnny would go to war for you, and your silly pink sticky notes.

Still, keeping something – anything from the boss. Even a private matter like this…

It happened on SpecGru property, that makes it SpecGru business. And it happened to you, which makes it Price’s business.

That you don’t already know that is… well, that’s between you and the boss. Johnny’s already too involved as it is. (Not that he regrets helping you. Not a bit. If he had his way, that little prick would have left with his teeth in his pocket and a new appreciation for his remaining thumb).

So now Johnny is stuck. He likes you; he really does. That you trust him with something so personal isn’t lost on him, especially in this line of work. He also has a healthy fear of your wrath. (You may not carry any weapons he’s seen, but you’ve got Price grimacing when you narrow your eyes just so. Johnny knows where his cupcakes are made, and he likes them without arsenic, thank you). So, personally, he wants to be able to honor your request to keep the matter private.

But then there’s Price, and whatever he’ll do to Johnny if – when – he finds out about all this.

Johnny’s solution?

“Christ, Gaz, ya shoulda seen it. Never seen the little miss tell someone off like that. Graves woulda been shakin’ in his boots. Will have to ask security for a recording of it.”

Gaz, unimpressed with Johnny’s volume, rolls his eyes and walks away, muttering about tea for his sudden headache. And Price, sitting at his desk, twitches and reaches for his phone.

Mission: accomplished.

Not the most elegant, but he’s a mafia lieutenant, not a fuckin’ spy. Now, to get those pastries you like before Price sees the footage.

“Luv?”

You glance up from the expense reports you’ve been working through for the better part of an hour. Mr. Price is leaning in the doorway to his office, shoulder to the jamb. There’s… an odd look on his face. You’ve never seen it before, don’t have it categorized in your mental files.

“Yes, boss?” you ask, straightening up.

“A word?”

You blink. That’s… different. You don’t like it.

Price is a steady sort of man. Not predictable, but consistent. That this is new, unusual, unfamiliar, makes you uneasy. Reminds you of your last boss, who could call you into his office with an affable grin, only to spend thirty minutes berating you for anything and everything he could think of.

Price has never done that, nothing even close… but you can’t suppress the slight shake in your hands as you smooth your skirt down. Hide it with a little flick of your wrists before grabbing for your ever-trusty tablet. Hell, you probably don’t even need it, but at this point it’s practically a comfort item. Maybe you should name it, put some googly eyes on it.

“Sweetheart?”

You startle a bit. Realize your feet have already carried you into his office and followed him right to his desk. Except instead of standing at his elbow as usual, you’re facing him across his desk. Like you did during your interview with him, when you were still strangers. Like you used to do for your previous boss.

“Oh, sorry, sir,” you chirp, forcing your usual brightness, “those expense reports, ya know? What did you need me for?”

Without a word, he spins his computer monitor around. Your brow furrows as you process the video playing on the screen. You. Soap. Brandon. Your stomach sinks.

There’s no sound, but there doesn’t really need to be. Even in profile, the expressions are crisp – high end cameras. You feel numb as the scene plays out all over again. You and Brandon snipping at each other back and forth. Your rigid spine, stiff shoulders. Brandon’s sleezy confidence. Soap, getting visibly aggravated as the seconds pass.

And there it is, the moment you spun on your heel, done with the conversation, and Brandon reached for you.

When you see Soap’s hand snap out – just a blur on the screen – you have to sit. Muscle memory collects your tablet in your lap, sweaty hands stacking neatly on top of it. Your heart is beating either too fast or too slow.

Your eyes stay locked on the screen until you and Soap disappear into the elevator, and the video stops.

“Should I play the elevator footage as well?” Price asks, voice low and quiet. “That comes with sound.”

It takes all your years of learned discipline and cultivated poise to resist shrinking in on yourself. It does not, however, stop your eyes from burning.

“Sir,” you say, struggling to keep your voice even, “I am so sorry.”

There’s a beat of tense silence as you gather yourself, throat getting tighter and tighter. Your head is spinning with fear and anxiety. What he’ll say, what he’ll do. How you could possibly damage control this.

“I-I don’t even know how he found out where I work,” you say, “and Soap w-was just trying to help. If I’d known that would happen, I would have taken it outside.”

You can barely look at Price as your voice break midway through, the panic leaking into your tone even as you stay frozen in place.

“Did we – is he suing? Is – is that why—?”

The tears escape despite your efforts, dripping fast and down your cheeks as you shudder in a breath. You can’t pay for a lawsuit, especially not if you’re fired over this. And you don’t want to lose this job. You love this job, you love—

“Oh, darling, what a mess you’ve made of yourself.”

You sniffle as Price rounds his desk and kneels in front of you, plucking his handkerchief from his breast pocket. He tuts at you when you open your mouth to protest, already blotting at your cheeks with a surprisingly gentle touch.

“There now, no need to cry,” he soothes, thumbing away another tear before it can fall. “I know it takes you ages to get your eyeliner right. This is nothing to ruin it over.”

“But…”

“I’m not angry, luv,” he continues, voice still low and quiet. This time, it doesn’t make your shoulders tense. “Wasn’t before and definitely not now. Chin up, there’s a dear.”

“Y-you’re not?” you warble.

“Not a bit,” he answers. “Not at you, at least.”

“Then why…?” You gesture weakly at the computer screen.

He sighs, something almost fond passing over his face. “Darling, you could have been hurt. Imagine if Soap hadn’t been there. All of us on the top floor, waiting for you to get back, not knowing something was wrong.”

He shakes his head, cradling your cheek with the same hand that brushed away your tears.

“You’re one of mine, you understand? Anything that happens to you is my responsibility,” he explains. “And I didn’t… enjoy that you want to keep something like this from me.”

You drop your eyes in shame. Of course. An employee assaulted on company ground, his personal assistant no less. Price would never stand for that sort of thing. He looks out for his own, looks out for you.

“Hey, look at me, luv. None of that now,” he coaxes. “I just want to get to the bottom of why you didn’t want to tell me.”

It occurs to you that that tone you heard earlier might have just been genuine worry and maybe… a bit of hurt. You twist your hands in your lap as you gather your words.

“I didn’t… it wasn’t because of you,” you murmur. “I just… was so embarrassed. And I didn’t want to make it your problem. I’m supposed to make your life easier, not harder.”

He huffs, but you’re relieved to see wry amusement on his face now.

“No more of that,” he orders, as softly as he when he wiped your face. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“There’s a love.” He gently pinches your cheek, then stands. “Stay here, I’ll get you a cup of water. Take a moment, yeah?”

You nod, sniffling again. He squeezes your shoulder as he passes, and you finally let yourself breathe. Not getting fired, not getting sued. And Price isn’t mad at you. Christ, he needs to work on his approach.

“Kyle.”

“Yeah, boss?”

“Look into that knob from lobby. And the little miss’s last boss.”

“You’ve got it.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #mafia!au #oddly wholesome for a mafia au #mafia boss price #assistant!reader #assistant reader #john soap mactavish

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

Note

In Freelance Inventor, does anyone in JL know about Danny? Do they try to help the kids Parent Trap Danny and Bruce? Does Selina know about Danny?

Batman is acting strange.

It's often that Clark thinks this. He feels a bit guilty judging people like that, but no one in the league, or hell, the world, can deny that Batman is an abnormal human.

If he even is human.

Not much is known about one of the founding members of the Justice League, and while Clark and Diana are arguably the closest to him, they don't even know his real name. Not that it was a problem.

They would trust him with their lives and learn to turn to him for leadership in dire times. It always seemed like he was prepared for literally anything, and when something managed to suppress the Dark King, it didn't last long, for he had a backup plan formed seconds later.

That's how they work. How the three changed a necessary alliance into a globally recognized league of heroes.

While Clark was good at making feel people feel safe, and Diana could rally forces, Batman had a way of making the impossible happen. Together the three tackled the world's problems making one day better at a time.

That did nothing to make people feel slightly....uneased by Batman. Clark was man enough to admit that even he got spooked. One time, he offhanded mentioned that he could recognize heartbeats when talking to Oliver and Batman.

Batman had tilted his head, made direct eye contact with Clark and suddenly, his heart rate had slowed down, beating entirely different. Clark felt horrified when the Dark Knight kept that same heartbeat for the following week, only switching mid-meeting to a faster one than the previous two.

Clark is Kryptonian. He is an alien. Sure, he developed most during puberty, but he always had superstrength and super speed as a tot. That's why he doesn't make sense, but Batman?

He had no idea what was going on with Batman, and frankly, he didn't want to touch the subject with a ten-foot pole.

Yet he could not help but think of the strange little hermit as a friend. Batman, in his own way, cared deeply for people. He never mentioned it but he always support heroes in their daily lives and although he grumbled a bit, was always there when someone needed him.

Yes, he wasn't the most approachable of heroes and a bit too professional, but he was still one of the greatest heroes in history for a reason. Clark always felt better of their chances when Batman was involved.

Seeing even a hit of disbalance in the Dark Knight made him worry.

Batman never lingered after meetings, training or monitor duty. Once he finished he was heading straight back to Gotham sometimes without a by your leave.

Batman did not do that today. Instead, he was staring out the watch tower's common room into the stars and hadn't moved for over two hours. Plenty of other heroes had already fled the room, too unnerved by the silent brooding man.

The last time this happened was because Robin had first shown up, shocking the world with his bright, impish laughter from Batman's shadows. Batman had taken months trying to decided to let the boy join him, and only because Robin straight up did not give him a option did he allow it.

Clark had been with Diana, angry that he was dragging a child into such dangerous situations only to have the Bat tell them to "stop him yourself then"

He did, but no matter how many times he captured Robin the boy was back on the streets a few hours later. Clark felt his hair grey from ever second he spent with the angry child. Diana hand't had much luck.

In fact the boy had, somehow bended in a way that had scared her into thinking she broken his spin, to escape her lasso. Her moment of fright was the opening he needed to scurry away, shouting at the top of his lungs that he would never be stopped.

She respected him but still captured the boy a few hours later. She screamed when Batman called her again to let her know the boy was seen fighting a gang at the ports that same night.

What could possibly cause Batman to stress the same way as his son? The founding members weren't sure, but they were all staring at him from the doorway after noticing every other hero avoiding the place like the plague.

"Go talk to him" Hal hissed at Clark.

"Me?" Clark spluttered. "Why me?"

"He is less likely to kill you," Barry tells him with the gravest expression Clark has ever seen on his face. "You are also the most likely one to survive Batman's attempt on your life if he decides to kill you."

Superman gapes at him, twisting around to all his teammates but everyone is either nodding or avoiding his eyes. They all decided he was the sacrifice it seemed. Traitors.

But it's true he is worried about his friend. He is slightly afriad of his friend but Clark would not be able to sleep at night if he didn't at least reach out to Batman.

Taking a deep breath to steel his nerves, he twists on his heel and marches over to the dark figure. He tries to shake the feeling of walking to his executor as he finally carefully stops by Batman's side. He doesn't look at him, keeping his gaze on the stars.

Neither man said anything, peacefully observing the darkness and lights of space.

Clark waited about thirty seconds before the silence got too much for him. "Er, Batman? Is everything alright?"

Batman didn't even twitch, a tight frown- more turn down on the right corner to then the left which meant it was a nervous kind of upset instead of annoyed upset as ussal. A full minute goes by where Clark wonders if Batman even heard him about to start babbling to try to get some conversation going when the man speaks.

"Superman, have you ever been in love?"

Clark swears he never experienced whiplash this badly. He honestly thinks the loud crack that came from his neck when he turned it in shock to the other Leaguer meant that he broke it.

Batman held no hint that he said anyhting but Clark could still hear the question echoing in his head as he gaped. He got ahold of himsrlf when he noticed Batman's heart beat pick up- nervous, embarssed. even fighten?- and his shoulder hitched up slightly.

Crude he made his friend feel bad.

"No! No no! I was just surprised, is all," He cries, waving his hands. Lois's face flashes in his mind, causing him to smile slightly dropply. "I have. I am actually. There this girl- at my work. She's great. Um, why do you ask?"

"....how do you know you're in love?"

Boy, was Clark really having this conversation at his age? He felt like a fumbling teenager. Granted, he only had one girlfriend back in high school, and he was fairly sure she only dated him to piss off her dad.

Still this was great! He has never had a conversation this deep with Batman before!

"I'm not sure if it's the same for Kryptonians as it is humans- you are human right?"

"Yes."

Oh, so Batman was just like that. Good to know.

"Well, I knew from how she made me feel nervous but happy nervous? As if the world was brighter. Better. And when I'm not near her, all my thoughts somehow return to her." Clark thinks of how to best explain love, turning the world over in his head before snapping his fingers. "You know when you just adore a certain food? That no matter how often you eat it or how long it's been, it just makes you feel better? There isn't a real reason why you like it so much you just do. That's what she's like for me."

Batman nods slowly. He might not be able to see his eyes but Clark could image them softening just by the way his whole body relaxes. "I see. Then I am in love. Thank you."

He turns away before Clark can get his jaw off the floor. Batman stride right out the room, ingorre the scrambling heros who try to act like they weren't easedropping and vanishes in a flash of light back to Gotham.

He did all that as if nothing had happened.

Clark has half the mind to think he just haluciated the entire five minutes before Barry blurted. "Batman is in love?! That's amazing!"

They spent the rest of the night trying to guess who was the person that could have possibly romanced Batman.

Barry and Hal were convinced it was another vampire- they didn't believe the Dark Knight was telling the truth when he claimed he was human- while both Diana and Arthur both claimed the person had to be a deadly warrior.

J'onn was under the impression it had to be someone who was the polar opposite of Batman. On Mars, that was the common couple dynamic. Thus, the person Batman loved was likely a civilian. A dumb sociable one.

He didn't say Bruce Wayne exactly, but J'onn heavily implied Bruce Wayne. He even pointed out that Mr. Wayne financed everything the Leauge used from the very beginning, of course in secert but it was still his money.

Why would he do that if he wasn't somehow profoundly involved? Obviously, the billionaire wanted Batman safe, maybe even returned his feelings. The rest of the Leauge looks half convinced by the logic.

Personally? Clark was just happy that Batman found anyone at all. No matter who they were, he would do everyhting he could to help his friend woo his crush.

That's what friends are for, after all.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dcxdp #spirit halloween #freelance inventor #Part 3 #Takes place a few months after Bruce meets Danny #The Justice League doesn't know much about Bruce at this point #Batman is a strange little human #Clark's pov #Dick Grayson's robin was a menace. I stand by that #Bruce doesn't know what to do with all these emotions

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tocomplainfriend · 3 months

Text

HAZBIN AND SA (+HB)

TW: SA and RAPE

THIS ITSELF DOESN'T TALK ABOUT THE SCENE! But the surrounding context.

So I really hate everything about how this has being treated. I am a SA victim and wanna talk about some stuff. If you didn't know, in episode 4 (I think) there is an exploration of Angel Dust SA, before going to do that lets see some stuff first:

She made a "cumming" joke about the song Poison (that accompanies the SA scenes)

This person over here worked on HH/HB (draws r-pe/non-con)

BLURRED AND CUTTED IMAGES: (Some are more or less explicit)

You know, that whole thing of shipping, and drawing porn of the canonical sexual abuser with the victim?

They also left this comment, under a comic where Val threatens brutal r-pe on Angel.

This person also worked in/directed the scenes of Angel dust Sexual abuse in the episode. The person that ships a r-pe ship and does all this shit is the one to work in this scene?????

ALSO????

Like??????? What happen here?

Also...

(The pinkie pfp person is 15 here too)

Why does Angel sexually harrases Husk non-stop (which is acknowledged by Vaggie)? Why is Moxxie SA by the succubus played for laughs? Same with Chaz or Blitz harassing him sexually or touching him without consent? Why did Stolas do so many unwanted advances towards Blitz, and that's literally the endgame couple of the show? (All of this are jokes, or by the Husk x Angel shit "ship moments"

WHY THIS TOO?

And yes you are "correct", something like Hypersexuality Trauma-should not being shamed. You are not a bad person, for dealing with this. BUT HEY, that doesn't mean you get to sexually harass people like Angel does to Husk or anyone.

Also, the problem is not having an SA victim's story. The problem is how it is treated and all the context that surrounds it. All of this above is that context! Why is so much SA jokes in Helluva? Why is that funny? You want to tell a story of SA, and anyone calling out the problems with it is deleting victims feelings and stories... YOU AND YOUR STUPID FUCKING JOKES DO THAT ALREADY. WHEN SA IS A JOKE FOR YOU, YOU ARE DIMINISHING SA AND R-PE.

There are also a lot of random fans saying that "Viv is an SA victim too"- #1 Where the fuck did she say that, cause you randomly saying that she said it doesn't mean shit. #2 DOESN'T DELETE THE WAY SA HAS BEING TREATED! THIS IS NOT EVEN CLOSE TO MAKING A JOKE AS AN SA VICTIM ABOUT YOURSELF- SHE/AND OTHER IN THE TEAM ARE WRITING CHARACTERS GETTING SEXUALLY ASSAULTED AS THE JOKE. -OR NOT UNDERSTAND LEGIT POWER DYNAMICS AND THE GROSS THING THAT STOLAS DOES TO BLITZ. OR THE LITERAL "SHIP COMPILATION" THAT IS PURELY ANGEL SEXUALLY HARASSING HUSK.

"Is important to represent SA survivors stories- specially men who-" BROTHER ALL YOUR OTHER MALE CHARACTERS SEXUALLY HARRASS/ASSAULT OTHERS AS A JOKEEEE. "They are in hell" BITCH A HUMAN, A REAL PERSON WORKING ON THE SHOW WROTE hahaha Moxxie gets violated by the succubus so funny lol. IT'S NOT "LOONA IS A BAD PERSON FROM HELL THAT'S WHY SHE MADE FAT JOKES AT MOXXIE" NO IT'S WRITTEN AS IF THE SA WAS FUNNY IN ITSELF!

This is also not a scenario where there was a realization of the problems in HB with all those jokes and the harassment, so it was trying to be fixed with a serious story in hazbin. NO, THAT'S NOT IT!!!!

If there was an apology of how the sexual assault was treated in previous works! "We'll make up for it!" (the fact of that was a thing in the first place, it's still bad). That would be a little different. BUT NO, IT'S NOT! IT'S HYPOCRITICAL AND GARBAGE BULLSHIT.

I think purely by the context already given here that I think the representation it's bad. I don't feel like it comes from a good place, due to the hypocritical shit, the comments, and the artist who directed it.

We could go really back and forth with the direct scenes of the episode. BUT THIS IS ABOUT THE CONTEXT SURROUND IT rather than the scenes themselves. (Which is partly connected to the fact that it's incomplete)

Here is the scene "Tuca and Bertie". Is Bertie telling her friend of her assault. It's amazingly respectful and well written. It's not graphic, and tells the story really well.

youtube

#vivziepop critique #vivziepop critical #helluva boss critique #helluva boss criticism #helluva boss critical #hazbin hotel critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critique #spindlehorse critical #tw rape #tw sa #tw abuse

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stylesispunk · 2 months

Text

"Where is my love?"

Joel miller x f! reader

summary: Isn't she coming to me?

w.c: 7k>

warning: angst, mentions of death, and grief.

a/n: this is a sad one and closer to my heart because grieving is the love we can give to people who are gone. The only change of this is that has been ten years since the "end of the world" and is based on the last chapter of the show. reblogs and comments are always appreciated and for the love of god, can you please help me with inspo for writing, I want to write for other characters, so if you have any suggestions are welcome. Have a lovely reading 💌 dividers by @/saradika

masterlist

Your paths crossed a long time ago. When the world had descended into madness, the souls met the dead in a now forgotten land. He came across you, and he fell in love with you. The sunlight radiating after the freezing storm was a fire keeping his brittle heart warm.

You had saved him from ending his own life that day, when he had lost faith in a horror movie without an ending or a purpose. He did lose everything he had known—everything he had ever loved and protected—but he had met you.

For him, you were an angel, not delicate nor free from sins, but an angel who appeared after he thought he had met his spirit in heaven.

You have looked after him and Tommy for days, taking care of their well-being and taking care of the reminiscing scar plastered on Joel’s forehead as a reminder of his almost-death encounter with his angel, you.

And you had loved him ever since; you found yourself increasingly drawn to him, not just for his vulnerability under your eyes but because he had brought sense back to life. His presence seemed to chase away the shadows that had been going to hunt you since now.

As the days turned into weeks, months, and then years, the bond between you and Joel only grew stronger. You found yourself drawn to his strength, his resilience in the face of adversity, and the way he faced each day with unwavering determination.

You had loved him after acknowledging every terrible thing he had done, and you loved him anyway. The darkness inside of him, taunted by the loss of the previous time, didn’t prevent you from looking at him as if he hung the stars of the sky. You both looked at night before sleeping, trying to find some reassurance.

Together, you faced the challenges, from the first days of the end of the world to the QZ, to Ellie, to where you were right now, knowing that as long as you had each other, you could overcome anything.

Now, here in Jackson, in the quiet moment before sleep, you and Joel would still gaze up at the stars, finding solace in the vastness of the night sky. And as you held each other close, you found reassurance in the knowledge that no matter what tomorrow brought, you would face it together.

Joel broke the silence, his voice soft yet filled with the weight of years gone by. "You know, I never thought I'd find this kind of peace again. Not after everything that's happened."

You turned to him, your eyes meeting his in the darkness. "We've been through hell and back, Love. But somehow, we made it together."

He reached out to intertwine his fingers with yours, seeking the comfort your touch brought to him. "I don't know what I would do without you," he admitted, his voice breaking a little.

"You don't have to find out," you replied, a gentle smile playing on your lips. "We're in this together, remember? No matter what."

Joel nodded, his gaze returning to the heavens above. "Yeah, together," he echoed, as if trying to convince himself of the truth of those words.

"You will never lose me,” you whispered, leaning in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "And I'll always be here to guide you home."

He closed his eyes, savoring the warmth of your lips over his skin. "I love you," he murmured, the words carrying the weight of a lifetime of pain and longing.

"I love you too," you replied, your heart overflowing with love for the man beside you.

Being in Jackson brought you back to a civilization, to peace, to a place where you could both sleep next to each other at the same time without fearing other people coming for you.

But as much as you cherished the peace and stability that Jackson provided, you couldn't escape the reality of everyday life. With it came the mundane challenges, the petty conflicts, and the occasional tension that threatened to disrupt the tranquility you had found together. There were disagreements, misunderstandings, and moments of frustration that tested the strength of your relationship.

You felt a rush of joy as you entered the door of your Jackson home. You couldn't wait to tell Joel about the trade you had made, so you were looking forward to seeing his reaction.

"Joel," you called out, your voice full of anticipation as you approached the living room where he was sitting. "Guess what? "I made a trade today."

Joel looked up from his book, interest in his eyes. "A trade?" "What did you get?"

You smiled, holding out the little camera you'd traded for some extra food supplies. "I exchanged some of our extra coffee for this camera! It's in excellent condition, and I thought we might use it to save some memories."

As you proudly showed the camera, Joel's initial curiosity turned into an unhappy face. He set down his book and looked at you with a mixture of disbelief and stress.

"You traded all of our extra coffee for a camera?" Joel repeated, his voice filled with frustration. "We rely on that coffee, you understand. It's not simply an extravagance; it's a product in high demand here in Jackson."

You faltered, understanding the potential repercussions of your impulsive trade. "I know, Joel, but I thought..."

"You thought what?" Joel interjected, his irritation growing. "That a camera was more important than having enough food to get us through the winter? "What if something happens and we need that coffee?"

You bit your lip, feeling a sense of remorse rush over you. "I didn't think of it that way. I just thought it would be wonderful to have something to save our memories."

Joel sighed and ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "I understand, but we must prioritize our needs before our wants. You cannot go out there and make bad decisions."

His words hurt, and you felt a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. You didn't plan to compromise your safety, but in your excitement, you forgot to consider the repercussions of your actions.

"I'm sorry, Joel," you said quietly, feeling a sensation of shame rush over you. "I didn't mean to cause any harm."

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being this childish," he murmured, strolling past you to the kitchen and leaving you in

Joel's gaze softened slightly as you apologized, but the tension in the air remained. "It's okay," he said softly. "Just stop being so childish," he replied, walking past you to the kitchen and leaving you in the living room with a bitter taste in your mouth.

A wave of guilt swept over you. You didn't mean to act impulsively or selfishly, but you now see that your actions had far-reaching implications.

Feeling the weight of Joel's disappointment, you remained in the living room, staring at the camera in your hands, your heart heavy. You realized he was correct; you needed to be more responsible and more aware of the circumstances and the actions that could affect your survival; being at peace in a place did not imply the risk had passed.

With a heavy sigh, you lay the camera down on the table, the excitement you had felt earlier replaced with a sense of regret. Joel's words lingered in your head, reminding you of the excitement you had felt earlier, replaced by a sense of remorse. Joel's words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the need to grow and learn from your mistakes.

You walked upstairs to your room, and with a heavy heart, you lay in bed, the events of the day on your mind. Despite the comfort of the blankets that surrounded you, you couldn't shake the sense of remorse and sorrow that persisted within you.

You closed your eyes and replayed the conversation with Joel in your head, each word stinging like a sharp reminder of your failure. You knew you'd let him down, and the thought gnawed at you, leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

And as you drifted off to sleep, the weight of Joel's disappointment gradually began to lighten. A few hours later, you awoke to the faint click of a camera shutter. Blinking sleepily, you opened your eyes to see Joel standing by the bedside, a tiny smile on his lips as he held the camera.

"What are you doing?" you said, your voice still laced with sleepiness.

Joel chuckled and lowered his camera as he neared the bed. "Just capturing a moment," he said, his eyes filled with adoration as he glanced down at you. In confusion, you furrowed your brow and sat up slightly in bed. "A moment of me sleeping?" you asked, feeling both amused and fascinated.

Joel nodded, his smile growing wider. "Yes, a second while you sleep. You looked beautiful; I couldn’t resist."

Despite the lingering anger from earlier, Joel's gesture made you feel warm. It was a modest act, but it showed a lot about his remorse and faith in your relationship. Reaching out, you took the camera from Joel's hands, studying the image of yourself sleeping soundly.

"I look horrible," you muttered. Joel softened his smile and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "Liar," he muttered. "Sorry for how I acted earlier." He moved forward, pressing his lips against your cheek this time.

"You're just an old, grumpy man," you remember, with a tiny giggle. His soft kisses eased the tension between you. His amusing response lightened the mood and lifted the sadness that had been in your heart.

"Old grumpy man, huh?" Joel chuckled, shaking his head in mock indignation. “I’ll show you what this old, grumpy man can do,” he said, planting a more urgent kiss on your lips this time.

You worked hard in the weeks following your fight with Joel to repair the distance that had grown between you. Despite the apparent signs of peacemaking, you still had a persistent sense of insecurity.

Then a new woman arrived in Jackson. She was closer to Joel's age, and you couldn't help but notice the easy connection that had developed between them. They spent a lot of time together, whether on patrol with Tommy or speaking in the common areas of Jackson.

You tried to ignore the jealousy that was bubbling up inside of you. After all, Joel had always been polite and accommodating to strangers, so there was no reason to suspect anything other than friendship between them.

But as the days went on and you saw Joel and the new woman form a stronger bond, your concern grew. You couldn't escape the nagging suspicion that there was something more between them—something that harmed the precious trust you'd worked so hard to build.

On today's evening, as you watched Joel and the woman laugh from across the room, you felt a pang of jealousy. You excused yourself and withdrew from the privacy of your thoughts since you could no longer contain your feelings.

You were alone in the living room, struggling with opposite emotions. Part of you felt ashamed for doubting Joel and allowing jealousy to cloud your thinking. But another part of you couldn't help but feel sad and insecure as if you weren't enough for him; after all, it wasn't just you, him, and Ellie outdoors any longer, and here in Jackson, you weren't the last woman in the world.

As you sat alone in the living room, buried in your thoughts, the sound of steps broke your state of trance. Looking up, you noticed Ellie enter the home, looking bright and cheerful, until she spotted your teary eyes.

"Hey, I missed you at dinner in the bar," Ellie said, concern etching her features as she approached you. "Is everything okay?"

You tried to brush off her concern with a forced smile, but Ellie wasn't fooled. "Yeah, everything's fine," you replied, your voice betraying the turmoil within you.

But Ellie wasn't about to let it go that easily. She moved closer, her gaze searching yours with intensity. "No, it's not. What happened? Why are you crying?"

Your heart ached at the concern in Ellie's eyes, and despite your best efforts to hold back the tears, they continued to fall. "I...I don't know," you admitted, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you. "I just...I don't know where Joel is."

Ellie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Joel? He's eating with Tommy and the new girl, why?"

You shook your head, unable to articulate the jumble of emotions swirling inside you. "I don't know," you repeated, feeling the tears threaten to overwhelm you once more. "I just...I need to talk to him."

Sensing the urgency in your voice, Ellie nodded in understanding. "Okay, let's go find him," she said, taking your hand and leading you out of the house.

As you followed Ellie towards the bar, your heart raced with fear and anticipation. You knew that whatever awaited you there, you couldn't continue to let your doubts and insecurities consume you.

Once inside the bar, you noticed Joel in the crowd, his gaze settling on yours with a warmth that shot an emotion through your chest. It was as if a magnetic force drew you closer together, despite any remaining doubts.

You moved across the crowded bar, Ellie's hand firmly clutched in yours, Joel's smile widening, and his gaze never leaving yours.

Finally reaching Joel's side, you felt a wave of relief sweep over you as he held you in his arms. The warmth of his hug swept away the residual frost of doubt, leaving you with an eager sense of calm and belonging.

"I missed you," Joel murmured, his voice soft as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

"I missed you too," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you leaned into Joel's embrace, reveling in the familiar scent of his cologne and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

For a moment, the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only you and Joel locked in a tender embrace. It was as if time itself had slowed to a halt, allowing you to savor the precious moments you shared together.

As Joel pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, you felt a rush of emotion swell within you, a profound gratitude for the love and support he had always shown you.

As the tender moment between you and Joel lingered, a voice interrupted, pulling you back to the present. "Hey, Joel!" called out a cheerful voice, and you turned to see a woman approaching, a bright smile on her face.

Joel turned to face the stranger, his arm still wrapped over you protectively. "Oh, hey Rachel," he said, a warm smile on his face. "This is my girlfriend," he added, introducing you. Then he turned his face to introduce the stranger to you. "This is Rachel, and she is new to Jackson."

You smiled politely at Rachel, but a tinge of dread came over you as you watched how she drew in closer to Joel, her hand casually resting on his free arm. You repressed a jealous pang and pushed yourself to keep a friendly demeanor, even though your heart squeezed with uncertainty.

"It's nice to meet you, Rachel," you said, your voice solid despite the tumult inside you.

Rachel returned the welcome with a warm grin, and her eyes flickered with intrigue as she glanced. between you and Joel. "Likewise," she replied, her tone friendly but tinged with a hint of flirtation.

As the night went on, you couldn't ignore the sense of unease that hung in the air. Despite your best efforts to ignore it, Rachel's lingering touches and seductive glances at Joel gnawed at your insides, stoking the jealousy that threatened to engulf you.

With each passing moment, it became more difficult to ignore Joel and Rachel's growing friendship. Their laughter and friendly banter got on your nerves, reminding you of the bond that they had.

You tried to ignore your misgivings and enjoy the evening with Joel, but insecurity weighed heavily on you. It felt like you were on the outside looking in, watching helplessly as Joel and Rachel got closer with each passing second.

Rachel's flirtations became more daring as the night progressed, her touches lingering a bit too long and her laughter provocative. Despite your best attempts to remain calm, the jealousy simmering beneath the surface threatened to explode.

You stole looks toward Joel, hoping to find reassurance in his eyes, but he seemed unaware of the impact Rachel's actions were having on you. It was as if she had enchanted him, consuming all of his attention.

You excused yourself from the table, unable to take the sight of Joel and Emily's flirtatious behavior any longer. You could understand, after all, that Joel was a handsome man who hadn't received this much attention since the world ended; yet, that didn't make it any less painful.

As you excused yourself from the table, a slew of feelings surged through you—pain, jealousy, and a deep sense of isolation. You longed for Joel's reassurance, his acknowledgment of the hurt that Rachel's behavior was causing you, but as you stole a glance at him, you saw only obliviousness in his gaze.

With a heavy heart, you moved away, your footsteps quietly echoing on the bar's hardwood floor. You felt Joel's stare on your back, but you couldn't force yourself to look into his eyes, scared of what you might find reflected there.

As you approached the edge of the room, you hesitated, your back facing Joel, struggling to find the perfect words. Finally, you spoke, hardly rising above a whisper. "I need some air," you remarked, your voice filled with anguish.

After a period of silence, you felt Joel's hand on your arm, warm and soothing. "Hey," he replied quietly, his voice full of concern. "Are you okay?"

You turned to face him, meeting his gaze with a mixture of longing and frustration. "I just...I need some time," you replied, your voice trembling slightly. "I'll be outside."

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with understanding as he nodded in response. "I'll come find you," he promised, his voice gentle as he squeezed your hand.

But instead, as you walked towards the house, the weight of the evening's events bearing down on you, you felt Joel's presence beside you. His steps were quiet, but his presence was comforting, a silent reassurance that you were not alone in your pain.

"Hey," Joel said softly, his voice breaking the silence between you. "I'm sorry about back there. I didn't realize... I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

You glanced sideways at Joel, the warmth of his gaze softening the edges of your frustration. "It's not your fault," you replied, your voice tinged with sadness. "I know you didn't mean to."

Joel fell into a step beside you, his hand reaching out to brush against yours. "I just want you to know that you're the only one for me," he said earnestly, his voice filled with sincerity. "No one else matters, not like you do."

“You could have told her about it,” you said, frustration edging into your tone.

Joel's expression faltered slightly at your words, a hint of defensiveness flickering in his eyes. "I didn't think it was necessary," he replied, his tone tinged with irritation. "I didn't want to embarrass her or make things awkward."

You felt a surge of frustration rising within you, the sting of jealousy and insecurity reigniting in your chest. "But by not saying anything, you made me feel like my feelings didn't matter," you countered, your voice tinged with hurt. "You made me doubt myself; doubt us."

Joel sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice strained. "I didn't mean to make you feel that way. I just didn't know how to handle the situation."

The tension between you hung heavy in the air, the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions pressing down on both of you. You wanted to believe Joel's assurances of love and devotion, but the lingering doubts and insecurities threatened to cloud your judgment.

"I need to rest," you said, changing the subject, your voice steady but tinged with sadness. "Tomorrow, we need to get up early for the patrol.”

“Actually, I’m not coming with you,” he said carefully.

“What? Why?”

“I’ll promise Rachel to...“

The air crackled with tension as Joel's words hung between you, his admission weighing heavily on your heart. Anger flared within you, fueled by hurt and betrayal.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice laced with frustration and disappointment. "Why would you choose her over me?

Joel's expression softened, and his eyes filled with regret. "I’m not choosing her over you; I would never do that," he replied, his voice tinged with guilt. "I didn't realize it would upset you."

You shook your head, unable to hide your frustration. "You should have talked to me about it first," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "You should have considered my feelings."

With a heavy heart, you turned away from Joel, the ache of disappointment echoing within you. As you retreated into the solitude of your thoughts, you couldn't help but wonder if your relationship could withstand this latest test or if it was destined to crumble beneath the weight of unresolved conflicts and broken promises.

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” you exclaimed as you kept walking.

The next morning dawned with a strong sense of tension in the air, the previous night's events still fresh in your mind. As you awoke from your sleep and began to prepare for the day ahead, the pain of disappointment and deceit chewed at your heart, casting a shadow on the early sun.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed aside any remaining doubts and concerns, determined to focus on the task at hand. As you approached the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air, a soothing reminder of Joel's presence.

You discovered him standing by the counter, holding a warm mug of coffee, and preparing a second cup for you. His expression was solemn.

His eyes were downcast, as if weighted down by the events of the night before.

"Morning, angel," he said, his voice tinged with regret, as he gave you the mug. "I made some coffee."

“Thank you, but I’m leaving,” you replied, shortly walking towards the door.

"Angel, wait," Joel called out, his voice pleading as he reached out to gently grasp your arm, halting your departure. His touch was warm against your skin, a silent plea for you to stay and hear him out.

You hesitated, torn between the desire to escape the tension that hung between you and the longing to resolve the issues that had driven a wedge between you and Joel. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, the weight of uncertainty pressing down on you like a leaden blanket.

“Take care; you know your safety is the most important thing for me,” he reassured, meeting your sad gaze.

"What a shame you're not going to be there to protect me," you replied bitterly, unable to mask the hurt in your voice. The words spilled out before you could stop them, a reflection of the pain and frustration that churned within you.

Joel's expression softened; his eyes filled with remorse as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Joel closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a tender kiss filled with longing and remorse. It was a silent reassurance of his love and commitment, a promise to mend the wounds that had been inflicted upon your relationship.

As the kiss lingered, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. Despite the pain and hurt, you knew that Joel was sincere in his desire to make things right, and you were willing to give him another chance.

Pulling away, Joel met your gaze with a mixture of regret and determination. "We'll talk when you get back," he said softly, his voice filled with resolve. "I'll be here waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of agreement, you returned Joel's gaze, a silent acknowledgment of your shared commitment to each other.

As you and Tommy ventured out on patrol, the rhythm of your footsteps echoed against the deserted streets of Jackson. The tension that had weighed heavily on you began to ease slightly, replaced by a sense of purpose as you focused on the task at hand.

"So, what happened between you and Joel?" Tommy asked, breaking the silence that had settled between you. His voice was filled with concern, and his eyes were studying your expression carefully.

You sighed, the events of the previous night still fresh in your mind. "We had an argument," you admitted reluctantly, the words heavy on your tongue. "I just don't know how to trust him again."

Tommy nodded in understanding, his expression sympathetic. "I get it," he said softly. "But you have to remember, Joel cares about you more than anything. He'd do anything to protect you, even if he doesn't always show it the right way."

You mulled over Tommy's words, the weight of his reassurance providing some measure of comfort amidst the uncertainty that plagued you. Despite the doubts that lingered in your mind, you knew that, deep down, Joel's intentions were genuine and his love for you was unwavering.

"I know," you replied, a sense of resolve creeping into your voice. "I just need to figure things out."

Tommy placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, his gaze filled with empathy. "You will," he said confidently. "And when you do, Joel will be right there waiting for you, ready to make things right."

With a nod of gratitude, you continued on your patrol, the weight of uncertainty still heavy on your shoulders but with a glimmer of hope shining through the darkness. As you walked, you couldn't help but feel grateful for Tommy's support and reassurance, knowing that with his guidance and the strength of your bond with Joel, you would find a way to navigate the challenges that lay ahead.

“Of course, you will say nice things about your stupid brother,” you joked.

Tommy chuckled at your jest, the sound carrying through the quiet streets as you continued on your patrol. "Hey, he may be stubborn and thick-headed sometimes, but Joel's got a good heart," he said with a grin. "And he cares about you more than anything."

You couldn't help but smile at Tommy's words, grateful for his unwavering support and his ability to see the best in Joel, even in the midst of conflict. "Thanks, Tommy," you said sincerely, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly from your shoulders. "I appreciate it."

Tommy nodded in response, his expression filled with understanding. "Anytime," he replied, his voice laced with warmth. "We're family, after all. And family sticks together, no matter what."

As you and Tommy continued your patrol around Jackson, everything was eerily quiet, with the only sound being the subtle crunch of gravel beneath your feet. The weight of insecurity lingered in the air, but you pressed on, determined to do your job and safeguard your town.

A group of people appeared from the shadows unexpectedly, their faces hidden by the night's darkness. Your heart jumped into your throat as you understood the danger that was immediately surrounding you.

You weren't a weak person; in fact, people considered you a powerful fighter, always merciless when it was required and determined to save the ones you cared about, so your instincts kicked in and your senses heightened as adrenaline flowed through veins. Despite the suddenness of the attack, you maintained your composure, guided by your training and expertise.

Until one of them grabbed you and pinned you down, your heart raced with a mix of fear and determination. You struggled against their hold, every muscle in your body tensing as you fought to break free. Despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins, the grip of your assailant remained firm, their strength overpowering.

With a surge of desperation, you summoned all your strength and training, channeling it into a fierce struggle to break free. Your mind raced with thoughts of escape, of finding a way to overcome this unexpected obstacle and emerge victorious.

Beside you, Tommy fought valiantly against the other attackers, his determination matching your own as he defended against the onslaught. Though outnumbered and caught off guard, you refused to give in, clinging to the hope that help would soon arrive.

“So, you’re Joel’s Miller girl,” a feminine voice said.

The voice cut through the chaos, freezing you momentarily as you tried to recognize the mocking tone. Despite the tense situation, a surge of anger flared within you at the mention of Joel's name. You refused to let fear or intimidation weaken your resolve.

With renewed determination, you continued to struggle against your assailant's hold, your mind racing with thoughts of escape and survival. Every fiber of your being was focused on breaking free and finding a way to overcome this threat and protect yourself and Tommy.

“Tommy!” you exclaimed, worry creeping up with you.

“I’m fine!” he reassured back.

“What do you want?” You asked the girl, who is now in front of you.

The girl smirked, her eyes filled with venom as she peered down at you, pinned under her. "What do I want?" she said, her voice full of scorn. "I'd like to send a message to your dear Joel. I want him to understand that no one is safe, including his girl."

Her statements enraged your fury, but you kept calm, refusing to show any signs of weakness in the face of her remarks. "And what message would that be?" you asked, your voice steady despite what was occurring.

As she drew in closer, the girl's smirk deepened, and her eyes took on a malicious glitter. "The message is simple," she stated, her voice low and frightening. "I will take away what he loves.

the most from him, as he did with me.”

“What?” but before you could even realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain through your abdomen.

The sharp pain ripped through your abdomen, stealing the breath from your lungs as you gasped in shock. A guttural cry of agony escaped your lips as you felt blood seeping from the wound, staining your clothes crimson.

The girl's cruel laughter echoed in your ears as she withdrew the weapon, a twisted smirk of satisfaction twisting her features. "That's the message," she said coldly, her voice dripping with malice.

You didn’t want to die here without seeing the smiles of the people you loved.

Your vision blurred as waves of pain washed over you, threatening to drag you into unconsciousness. Through the haze of agony, you fought to stay conscious, your thoughts consumed by a desperate need to survive, to make it back to Joel, to warn him of the danger that now threatened you both.

“Hey, stay with me. I’m taking you to Jackson,” Tommy said desperately, but his voice was just an echo at this time.

The world seemed to spin around you as you fought to hold onto consciousness, Tommy's voice barely registering amidst the haze of pain and confusion. Every fiber of your being screamed in agony, but you refused to succumb to the darkness that threatened to consume you.

With a herculean effort, you summoned whatever strength remained within you, clinging to Tommy's words like a lifeline. Through sheer force of will, you forced your eyes to focus, locking onto Tommy's determined gaze as he lifted you into his arms.

The journey back to Jackson was a blur of agony and desperation, with each step sending waves of pain coursing through your battered body. But with every labored breath, you clung to the hope that burned within you—a determination to survive and protect those you loved.

As the walls of Jackson loomed into view, relief flooded through you, a flicker of hope amidst the darkness. With Tommy's unwavering support, you stumbled towards safety, with the promise of medical aid and the comfort of Joel's embrace urging you forward.

As you were carried through the gates of Jackson, the weight of exhaustion and pain threatened to overwhelm you.

Tommy stepped into Jackson's doors, crying out for help as you lay practically still in his arms. The wound in your stomach was major, and he couldn't shake the thought that you would die as a result of his inability to protect you.

As Tommy stormed through the doors of Jackson, his voice buzzing with desperation, terror spread throughout the neighborhoods. People turned their heads, concerned expressions on their faces, as they saw you almost unresponsive in his arms, crimson blood covering the clothes you were wearing.

A crowd swiftly gathered around Tommy, their alarming murmuring filling the air. Tommy ignored them, focusing entirely on getting you the help you so desperately needed.

As Tommy went towards the improvised infirmary, frantic yells sounded out, requesting the medical attention they had here. His steps were heavy with guilt, and each instant seemed to last forever as he feared the worst.

Finally, the infirmary doors swung open, and a team of medics led by Jackson hurried forward to take you from Tommy's arms. They worked fast and effectively, their expressions serious as they assessed the seriousness of your injury.

Tommy stood back, his hands quivering with terror and remorse, as he saw the doctor rush into action. He couldn't shake the notion that your condition was a result of his failing to safeguard you from harm.

Joel's heart was tight with fear when he saw a commotion near the infirmary. Without hesitation, he raced towards the crowd, his instincts screaming for him to get to you as soon as possible.

Joel's heart raced in his chest as he pushed his way through the crowd, finally arriving at the infirmary entrance. He saw you, pale and frail, in the arms of the doctors, your life hanging in limbo.

Joel moved forward without hesitation, arms outstretched, reaching for you. "No," he murmured hoarsely, terror and desperation evident in his tone. "Please, don't let her die."

The medics stepped aside, allowing Joel to take you into his arms. As he held you close, he could feel the warmth of your body against his, but it was too still, too fragile. Tears welled in his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, silently praying for your recovery.

“Hey, angel,” he murmured, finding strength in his voice. “Open those beautiful eyes of yours for me, baby, okay? Please, do it!” He continued sobbing as he caressed your hair. “I can lose everything, but not you... Oh god, not you, please?”

Joel kept holding you in his arms, preventing you from going away from him, and you could feel his touch, his care, and his voice pleading with you to stay with him. You wanted that, you wanted so bad, but the strength was dying inside you, and everything you ever knew went black.

You became a lifeless frame in the arms of your biggest love. When you stopped breathing, Joel’s heart stopped beating because, as if it was glass, it shattered.

The look of the doctor and the face of Tommy told them the truth he didn’t want to acknowledge, confirming the unthinkable: you were gone. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as Joel's world shattered around him. He clung to your lifeless form, his body racked with sobs as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of his loss.

"No, no, please," Joel choked out, his voice breaking with grief as he held you close, unwilling to accept the truth of what had just happened. Tears streamed down his cheeks unchecked, his sobs echoing in the silence of the infirmary.

For a moment, time stood still as Joel clung to you, unwilling to let go and unwilling to accept that you were gone. The world around him blurred, and the pain in his heart was too overwhelming to bear.

But as the reality of your loss settled over him, Joel's grief turned to rage, a primal, consuming fury that burned through him like wildfire. With a guttural cry of anguish, he cradled you in his arms, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.

In that moment, Joel felt as if his world had come crashing down around him, leaving nothing but darkness and despair in its wake. He had lost everything—the love of his life, his reason for living, his angel.

And as he held you close, his heart shattered into a million pieces, each one a painful reminder of the love he had lost and the life that had been snuffed out too soon. For Joel, the world had ceased to exist, consumed by the gaping void left in the wake of your passing.

He was never going to kiss you again; he was never going to hold you close at night or wake up to your smile in the morning. The future he had imagined, filled with laughter and love, now lay shattered at his feet.

A few hours later, Joel woke up in your shared bed, and you were sleeping next to him.

Joel's hand extended out to touch you, and a sense of warmth and comfort came over him. For a little while, he felt the smoothness of your skin beneath his fingertips and the rise and fall of your chest as you breathed peacefully beside him.

But then reality slammed back in like a tidal wave, yanking him from his comfortable state of sleep. His hand gripped the empty air, his fingers wrapping around nothing but chilly emptiness.

Joel's eyes opened abruptly, and he found himself lying in the dimly lit space, alone in the bed that had previously accommodated both of you. The ache in his chest returned with vengeance, a searing pang of anguish piercing his heart as he realized you were no longer alongside him.

Joel let out a deep sigh as he ran his hand through his hair, the memories of the dream still fresh in his mind. It felt so genuine and so vivid that, for a brief minute, he believed you were still alive and with him.

You were gone, taken from him in a cruel twist of fate, and no amount of dreaming could bring you back to him.

It's been a week, and he didn't attend your funeral because he was unable to accept that you were no longer alive.

Until today, when he stepped out of the house, which was surrounded by the flowers that some members of the community had left for you, and walked to your graveyard.

As Joel approached your graveyard, he felt an enormous burden settle over him—the weight of grief and loss that had been his constant companion in the days since your death. The walk appeared longer than it had ever been, with each step weighed down by the weight of his grief.

As he reached the grave, Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of the newly turned earth and the plain headstone traced your name as if it were your face. Joel's heart tightened with agony and need. The sight of freshly churned ground, with a simple monument marking your final resting place, acted as a sharp reminder of your absence.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you; I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he laid a bouquet of flowers at the foot of the headstone, each bloom a silent tribute to the love and loss he felt in his heart. The scent of the flowers mingled with the earthy aroma of the graveyard, a poignant reminder of the fleeting beauty of life and the inevitability of death.

Joel's voice quivered as he spoke, every word heavy with the weight of his despair and sorrow. He kneeled near the grave, his hand resting on the cool surface of the headstone, seeking comfort in the memory of your love.

"I want you to know that it was never me who protected you, but you who protected me," Joel said quietly, his words barely audible above the delicate murmur of the wind through the trees. "You were always the one who gave me strength, who showed me what it meant to love and to be loved."

As Joel spoke, tears streamed down his cheeks, revealing his real and unadulterated grief. At that time, surrounded by the serene tranquility of the graveyard, he felt profound loss, a yawning void that could never be filled.

"But now you're gone," Joel added, his voice breaking with sadness. "And I do not know how to go on without you."

Joel rose to his feet after one final long glance at the headstone, a sensation of purpose coming over him. He may have lost you, but he promised to always carry your love with him, to respect your memory in all he did, and to find a way to move forward, even in the face of his greatest pain.

You were always in every star shining above, in the sky.

He was back in the dimly lit room, with the weight of the grief still over his shoulders, and with trembling hands, he reached for the small camera you had traded, his fingers tracing the familiar contours of the device.

As he turned it on, the screen flickered to life, illuminating the darkness with a soft glow. And there, displayed before him, was the image he had captured of your sleeping, your peaceful expression a bittersweet reminder of how simply you could make him happy.

With a heavy heart, Joel reached out, his fingertips gently tracing the patterns of your face on the screen. It was as if he could feel your presence beside him.

Tears welled in Joel's eyes as he lingered on the image, his heart aching with longing for the touch he could no longer feel. But in that moment, surrounded by memories of you, he found a glimmer of solace, a reminder that though you were gone, your love would always remain.

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chvoswxtch · 3 months

Text

an adjustment

pairing: frank castle x fem!reader

summary: adjusting to a new normal with frank presents a few challenges, including one you thought you had put to rest.

warnings: swearing, lil angst, frank's voice (yes that needs a warning)

word count: 2.6k

a/n: a certain someone is making a cameo that will have a bigger role in the next chapter, but y'all know I love to tease. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

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As much as the two of you wanted to stay in the cozy little bubble that existed in his cabin, reality had come knocking. Madani informed you that your place was no longer an active crime scene decorated in bodies, bullets, and blood, and Billy needed Frank for a new assignment. Some guy running for Senator had a lot of controversial opinions that pissed a bunch of people off and apparently warranted 24/7 security, and Anvil was at the top of his list for protection. Since Frank was the best at what he did, unfortunately he was at the top of that list too. Adjusting to a new normal had been…well…just that; an adjustment.

A difficult, confusing, thought consuming adjustment.

For over half of the past year, Frank had been by your side. You started and ended every single day with him. The sudden absence of his presence was jarring, and you still found yourself immediately confused when you glanced up from your computer screen to tell him something only to realize he wasn’t there. Frank didn’t always talk a whole lot, but your office suddenly felt so much more quiet and empty without him. And despite a full blown security system installed by him on your behalf, it was hard for you to feel safe in your own home with the lingering scars of what had happened etched into the walls beneath a layer of new paint.

Frank called you at least once every day, just to hear your voice, but between both of your complicated schedules, time was not in your favor. You had spent the past three weeks adapting to Frank’s vacancy, but found yourself spiraling anytime you were left alone with your own thoughts. What if this was over before it had even really started? What if it wasn't anything anyway? There hadn’t been a moment for you and Frank to sit down and actually talk about what your relationship was since the cabin. You know what it meant to you, and you knew what you wanted it to mean to him, but you wanted to hear what it meant to him from his own mouth.

A part of you felt childish for wanting to bring it up. What were you supposed to do? Send him a text saying “are you my boyfriend, check yes or no”? Another part of you felt valid in needing reassurance. It was reasonable to want to establish a relationship with someone you were dating. But were you and Frank dating? He hadn’t technically asked you out on an actual date, but he had risked his life to save yours on several occasions. That had to count for something. You hadn’t dated anyone seriously since Steven, and Frank was not only a widower, but also your former bodyguard, so the normal rules of dating felt like they had been completely thrown out the window.

A knock at the door abruptly pulled you out of your chaotically indecisive inner monologue, and you saw a guy that appeared to be fresh out of high school standing in the doorway of your office.

“You Y/N Y/L/N?”

“Uh yeah, that’s me. How can I help you?”

The kid took a few steps forward into your office and practically shoved a sealed brown envelope in your face. He looked bored and annoyed, as if you were somehow inconveniencing him because he had to deliver something to you. It made you want to make a snide comment about how your name was clearly listed outside your office door and ask how the hell he managed to graduate without the ability to read.

“This is for you.”

Reaching for the envelope, your brows pinched together as you turned it over. There was nothing written on the front of it, no address, no name, not even a stamp.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know, lady. I’m just the messenger. Open it and find out.”

Before you could reply with a smartass comment, the kid had already walked out of your office, leaving you alone with the mysterious brown envelope. Clenching your jaw, you refrained from chasing him down the hall and asking who the hell raised him. Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you had to remind yourself that you were a grown woman that would face charges for decking a teenager, even if he was legal and a complete dick.

“Asshole.”

Muttering under your breath, you pinched the aluminum prongs together on the seal, flipping the top of the envelope open to reach inside and pull out a stack of documents. When you turned them over, five big bold letters instantly caught your attention.

LETTER OF INTENT TO SUE.

During your time as a journalist, people had threatened to sue you over stories several times. It came with the territory. The first time you had gotten a letter like this, you nearly had a complete meltdown. Ben had found it far more amusing than you did, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin on his face while sipping at his coffee and chuckling.

“Ah, I remember my first lawsuit letter. You get used to ‘em. You can either frame that one or forward that to the uh legal department. It’s in the blue recycling bin outside.”

And he had been right. People had tried to sue the paper, and you specifically, several times over the course of your career, but nothing ever actually went anywhere. You normally wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and you were about to toss it into the trash bin on the floor next to your desk when your eyes skimmed over who sent the letter, and your blood instantly began to sizzle.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Steven fucking Price.

Gritting your teeth harshly, you narrowed your eyes as you read over the first paragraph on the page.

This letter of intent to sue shall hereby be considered formal notice that STEVEN PRICE intends to file a lawsuit against you if you do not comply with the settlement demands set out in this letter.

The storm of anger brewing inside you had your hands shaking violently, and you were clutching onto the paper in your hands so tightly that your fingernails had left indents in the crinkled sides that were held captive in your vice grip. When Homeland took him away in custody, you thought that was the last you would ever have to deal with him or see him until the trial. But here he was, still making demands of you, from federal prison.

Frank’s gruff voice sounded on the other end of the line after one ring before you even realized you had called him.

“He’s fucking suing me.”

“What? Who?”

“Steven.”

There was a brief shuffling noise on the other end of the line, and you faintly heard Frank mutter an “excuse me” before his deep baritone sounded once again in your ear.

“The hell you mean he’s suin’ you?”

“Some kid came and dropped off an envelope, who was a real dick by the way, and then I opened it and saw it’s a letter of intent to sue. I didn’t think anything of it at first because I get these all the time, but then I saw his fucking name.”

“Suin’ you for what though?”

Tossing the documents onto your desk, you began to pace back and forth in your office as you ran your hand through the roots of your hair in pure frustration.

“I don’t fucking know, a load of bullshit? I didn’t even read what his ‘demands’ were. He can’t…he can’t do that, right? I didn’t do anything.”

Pausing for a second, your hysterical rant subsided momentarily as one possible reason for a lawsuit popped into your head.

“I mean…I did punch him in the face. But he’s going to sue me for that? There’s no fucking way. Putting it on public record that a girl half his size punched him? His ego couldn’t handle it.”

“You did break his nose.”

“He fucking deserved it, I should’ve broken more.”

Frank’s deep chuckle of amusement sounded from the other end of the line, and it instantly made you forget what you were so pissed about for a brief moment.

“I ain’t disagreein’ with you there. Look, take a deep breath, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you closed your eyes for a moment and enjoyed the soft tone of Frank’s rough voice as you followed his gentle instruction. With your eyes closed, it was almost like he was there with you. Once Frank could hear your breathing even out a bit on the other end of the line, he spoke in a delicately low tone that had your toes curling in your shoes.

“Attagirl. Send me the letter and I’ll talk to Madani ‘bout it, yeah?”

“I don’t even have a lawyer-”

“Don’t worry ‘bout that right now, alright? Just take another deep breath, relax, and let me handle it.”

“You’re always handling things.”

“That’s kinda my job, baby.”

One little pet name and you were blushing like a schoolgirl with her first crush. Thankfully Frank wasn’t in your office at that moment to see the intense heat in your cheeks and the goofy smile splitting your lips. He would’ve definitely had a field day teasing you about it.

“You’re pretty good at your job. Maybe a little too good. If you were kinda sucky at it, everyone wouldn’t want you so bad.”

“The only one I want bad is you.”

A fluttering feeling erupted in your lower belly at those words, coupled with the way his voice had dropped an impossible octave lower, and you found yourself clutching at the edge of your desk to keep your knees from giving out right from under you. If Frank was here, you would’ve gladly let him bend you over it.

Clearing your throat, you attempted to change the subject before you got too worked up.

“How’s the new guy?”

Grabbing the iced coffee sitting on your desk, you held it against the heated skin of your neck. Droplets of the cool condensation slowly cascaded down your flesh, causing you to shiver while trying to balance your internal temperature.

“Not as pretty as you.”

Letting out a soft snort, you rolled your eyes and leaned back against the edge of your desk.

“Well I would hope not.”

Frank chuckled deeply again, and you could clearly picture the look on his face in your mind; an expression of playful exasperation with a faint smirk on the edge of his soft lips.

“He’s more of a pain in the ass than you. Didn’t think that was possible.”

“You’re really great at this whole flirting thing, you know that?”

The dry sarcasm in your voice didn’t go unnoticed by Frank, and it tore a deeper laugh from low within his chest that made you grin.

“Hey, I been outta practice for a while. Gimme a break.”

“Speaking of flirting, how’s Billy?”

“He’s uh…he’s good.”

Something about Frank’s tone suddenly seemed off, and you wanted to ask him about it, but there was a faint rustling on the other end of the line, like Frank was pressing the speaker against his chest, and you could barely make out his muffled voice speaking to someone. When he lifted his phone back to his ear, you caught the end of a deep sigh.

“Listen I uh…I gotta go, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, me too.”

That was a lie. You didn’t have anything pressing deadlines at the moment. You would’ve stayed on the phone for the rest of the day with Frank if you could’ve, maybe convinced him to sneak away and come see you. He was still in New York, luckily, but anywhere that wasn’t right next to you was still too far.

“Send me the letter. I’ll talk to Madani and take care of it, alright?”

“Okay. I…thank you.”

“You ain’t gotta thank me.”

“You keep saying that, but then you keep giving me reasons to. So, we can have this argument until eventually you give up I guess.”

Frank chuckled deeply once more, and you could picture him in your mind shaking his head with a light grin. He sounded normal again, but you made a mental note to ask him about what was really going on when you spoke to him next.

“Same time tomorrow then, yeah?”

»»———　　———««

According to Madani, Steven didn’t have a case, and you technically had nothing to worry about. However, you were admittedly curious about what the hell he wanted, and Frank had said that if you did want to go talk to Steven, he would go with you. Actually, he respectfully insisted that you not see Steven without him present, and while you didn’t want to see Steven at all, you did want to see Frank.

You suffered through almost three years with Steven. You could suffer another five minutes if it meant you got to spend time with Frank.

It wasn’t your first time visiting a prison. A few years ago when you were still working with Ben, he had been interviewing a death row inmate that had been declaring innocence for fifteen years, and Ben had managed to prove that the evidence for his case had been tampered with and that the man had been telling the truth the entire time. Despite how daunting it felt to be in a place that kept violent people caged like animals, you felt safe with Ben then, much like you did with Frank now.

Currently, you were pacing back and forth down the hallway in pure irritation.

“What is taking so long?”

Frank had his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the wall outside of the meeting room that was typically reserved for inmates and their lawyers. The guard had said he would bring Steven in shortly, but that was twenty minutes ago. Since Frank had met you at the prison, and due to all the prying eyes, you hadn’t had a private moment to do more than smile at him when he arrived. It was the first time you were able to see him in person in three and a half weeks, and he somehow looked even more attractive than he ever had, and you were being forced to endure an interaction with your ex, who tried to have you killed, just to get Frank alone.

It was torture.

“Told ‘em we’re waitin’ on your lawyer.”

Pausing mid-step, you glanced over at Frank with a look of complete puzzlement.

“I don’t have a lawyer, I told you that.”

As Frank turned his head to look at you, he suddenly lifted his gaze to stare directly above your head as someone behind you caught his eye. He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms as he gestured with his chin in the direction behind you.

“You do now.”

With your brows knit in threads of confusion towards the center of your forehead, a light tapping sound behind you caused your ears to perk up, and you turned your head to find the source of the noise and Frank’s attention.

“Miss Y/L/N, my name is Matthew Murdock. I’m your attorney.”

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