#it’s missing the x rated stuff but lets put that aside for now

[hellocupie]

a few weeks ago me and @eisukevint agreed that this tiktok was very yosuke coded and its been on my mind ever since so i had to do something about it

#it’s missing the x rated stuff but lets put that aside for now #yosuke sagara #kings of paradise #kop yosuke #love 365 fanart #love 365 #love 365 find your story #voltage inc #voltage otome

[wardenparker]

Next to Normal, part 3

Joel Miller x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: 18+! Explicit for violence Word Count: 11.9k Warnings: Reader's age isn't pinpointed but you/she are old enough to remember the way the world worked before the Outbreak. Swearing. PTSD, past death of a child, mentions of pregnancy and STIs, panic attack, trauma reactions, home invasion, threats of murder, infliction of mortal injuries, descriptions of broken bones and other wounds, blink and you’ll miss It mention of drug use, manipulation, gaslighting, revenge, conspiracy, death. DEAD DOVE. DO NOT EAT. This chapter contains graphic violence! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED! Summary: Things have been going well with Joel until one fateful movie night. It will take fighting past all of your demons to make it to your happily ever after. Notes: The finale of this three-parter was particularly emotional for me to write and the relief of a happy ending was absolutely necessary. My hope is that there is absolutely no one in the world who can relate to the reader as she/you go through hell, but I'm realistic enough to know better. So to all my kindred spirits who struggle, I hope you find catharsis in reader's journey.

Part 1 ~ Part 2

Winter turned to spring with an ease and grace that almost made you forget that times are hard. The outside world is moving in whatever way it does, but Jackson is doing well. Ellie is learning basic agriculture in the fields on her school break and Joel is becoming more and more a way a part of how this town runs. He gets consulted on matters as a prominent citizen, from the basic to the complicated. This morning he was off at another meeting but he’ll be all yours for the afternoon, and then there is the movie at night. It is shaping up to be a nearly perfect day, as days go in this world, and you sit in your sewing nook letting out the seams on some dresses for a family in town with young girls — they’re growing like weeds and the girls’ favorite dresses are now too tight. Well, you can certainly fix that.

“Joel?” The door opens and Tommy sticks his head in to see if his brother is here. “Sorry, is Joel here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s in the basement.” It’s become something of a workshop for him, but you wave for Tommy to come in. He knows the way down. “Is everything okay?”

“Had something come up.” Tommy admits, shuffling into the house and shutting the door. “Need to see if he can help.”

“I’m sure he can.” Instinctively, and wanting to be helpful, you set your sewing aside and move to the open door at the top of the basement stairs. “Joel? Tommy’s here to see you, honey.”

“Send him down.” Joel calls back up, grunting and there’s the sound of something being set down on the concrete floor. “Or send him away. Hell if I wanna put up with him.” He jokes.

“Asshole.” Tommy jokes with a rumble, but thanks you and heads down the stairs. “The hell you doing down here, building a bunker? The world already ended.”

Joel snorts and shrugs. “Makin’ some cabinets for her.” He motions towards the half-finished organizers. “For her doo-dads and stuff. Figured I might get it done by Christmas if I started now.”

“She’s happy.” It makes Tommy smile to see the two of you together these days. You’ve come so far with Joel, and he has softened so much with you. “It’s good to see.”

“You come to see me for any one reason? Or to comment on domestic bliss?” He raises a brow at his brother, slightly uncomfortable with the idea that your happiness is tied to him. You’ve been healing, but he’s not entirely sure that it’s because of him.

“Need you to come downtown.” Leaning back against the wall, Tommy shoves his hands in his pockets. “Patrol got their asses handed to them by a group of raiders and some wanderer helped them out of a tight spot. They blindfolded him and brought him back to town to stitch him up and they’re talking about letting him stay. But town council needs to meet on it and interview the guy.”

Joel isn’t a council member, even though some apparently thought him as good as one. “Can’t.” He shakes his head. “Gotta work on that pen with Ellie and then it’s movie night.”

“I know it’s movie night.” Tommy digs the toe of his boot into the floor of the basement. “That’s why they wanted this settled fast. Nobody wants to give up movie night.” He nods though, and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’ll tell ‘em you were busy.”

“Sorry.” Joel frowns slightly. “I just— I promised her a night.” He lowers his voice and looks towards the stairs to make sure you aren’t coming down. “It’s…that time and I’m tryin’ to keep her busy so the nightmares don’t come.”

“I know.” Tommy nods, knowing exactly what time of year you were found, considering he was the one who found you. Your boy should be turning a year old tomorrow, but that will never happen. “Is she…how has she been?”

“There’s some rough days.” Joel won’t deny that, he can’t. “But I think being here with us, living with me and Ellie, has been good for her.”

“It’s as normal as any of us are going to get.” Tommy offers, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ll get out of your hair. You good, otherwise?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and shoots his brother a look. “Thanks, for covering for me.”

"Once Maria gets your ass on the town council there won't be any helping you." He shoots his brother a grin and Tommy shakes his head, laughing at the thought. "See you tonight?"

Joel snorts. “See you tonight.” He promises, frowning as Tommy quickly ascends the stairs and huffs. His own knees would be crackling at the pace his younger brother was moving. The truth was, Joel didn’t want to stray too far from you over the next day or so, so he had come up with reasons to work down in the basement.

"Everything okay?" When you stick your head down the stairs a few minutes later after seeing Tommy out the door, Joel has his head back over his workbench.

“Yeah.” Joel looks up and is met with a worried shadow in your eyes. “Nothin’ to worry about. He just was tryin’ to recruit me for council business again.”

"They want you to join." Coming halfway down the stairs, you sit on the middle step as you've become accustomed to. It keeps you close to him but not close enough to be underfoot.

“Councils.” He snorts, looking up at you with a roll of his eyes. “Can you imagine me on a council?”

"They'd probably get more done," you tell him honestly. "Because you wouldn't put up with them sitting around talking in circles all day."

“I don’t talk, I act.” You know this, though he probably talks to you more than anyone else in this goddamn town.

"I know, love. That's why they want you." Still, you understand his hesitance to join in on anything like that. Joel doesn't like politicking and he doesn't like being responsible for anymore than just your little family.

“They can want in one hand…” he trails off and looks back up at you. “How’s the sewing going? That peddle workin’ alright on the machine?”

"Things are going a hell of a lot faster thanks to you." The previous town seamstress's sewing machine had broken and there hadn't been any luck in fixing it before Joel. Now, though? You're moving through projects with ease. "Thank you for that."

“Anything for you.” The simplicity of the words don’t smudge their meaning. Joel would do anything for you. It’s just the way he’s wired.

"I love you, too." A fact which still reduces you to a stammering schoolgirl in some ways, but it's the truth. Loving Joel has restored you in so many ways.

He huffs in embarrassment but his eyes soften as he sends you a small smile. “Love you too.”

“I’ll let you work.” As much as you like to be close to him as much as possible, you know he has work to do and so do you. “When are you going to help Ellie with the pen?”

“When she comes tracking back in.” Joel snorts and shoots you a look. “You tell her that if she doesn’t brush off her boots, she’s sweepin’ the floors.”

“Okay, love.” You chuckle softly as you get up from the stairs and blow him a kiss before heading back upstairs.

Joel watches you walk up the stairs, frowning slightly. He’s worried, waking up with a sense of foreboding that he’s learned to not ignore. Something’s going to happen. Walking over to a cabinet, he opens it to reveal the supplies he’s started slowly acquiring. His eyes narrow slightly, reaching out and touching the hunting knife in front of him.

******

“Joel c’mon, we’re gonna be laaaate!” Ellie wails across the pen, pulling her jacket back on after their work is done.

“Alright.” The kid needs to learn to put her tools up, but she did a decent job. “Grab your stuff.”

“I got it!” She yells, triumphantly holding up the tool belt that Tommy had lent to her for the work.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “You aren’t eager for the movie are you? Or is it more the person you’re sittin’ with?”

The grin instantly slips from Ellie’s face and morphs into an embarrassed blush. “Don’t know what yer talkin’ about,” she mumbles, kicking the dirt.

“Nothin’ to be embarrassed about.” Joel scoffs. “Dina’s a nice girl. You obviously like spending time with her.”

“She’s so pretty.” There’s a dreamy quality to the teenager’s face when she looks up again and Ellie swings herself over to Joel’s side enthusiastically. “And she…she holds my hand sometimes. But I probably shouldn’t overthink that, right?”

“Don’t under think it either.” Joel cautions her. “Don’t want her to think that you’re bored by her.”

“Right.” That seemed to not even occur to Ellie, and she furrows her brow in tight as they start to walk back toward their house. “Is that what happened with you guys? Why she didn’t know you even liked her at first?”

“Probably.” Joel admits easily. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed, kid, but I’m kind of an asshole.”

“Oh no, I know.” The grin she beams at him is enormous, like Joel’s grumpiness is her private amusement. “Somehow she doesn’t seem to care, though.”

“No, she doesn’t.” A fact that continues to astonish him. “But I try to be less of an asshole to her. That’s important in a relationship.” He tells Ellie like he’s imparting important wisdom.

“Don’t…be an asshole…to…Dina.” Ellie mimics writing the advice in the air on an invisible chalkboard and smirks. “Got it.”

“Good.” He snorts, rolling his eyes and huffing at the sarcasm displayed by the teenager. “You could get her some ice cream tonight.” He suggests.

“Ya think?” It seems to be an idea that hasn’t yet occurred to Ellie and immediately her eagerness has her walking faster. “Ohhh, yeah. She’d love that!”

Joel watches her pull ahead in amusement. “It’s the little things that count, kid.”

She could make a joke about his little thing, but that’s just gross to think about and she flinches instead as she walks along the road. “It’s just hard to know, ya know?” She says after a while. “If she likes me or not, I mean.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Joel doesn’t treat it as a joke, because it’s not. People are still emotional creatures and yearn for connection, even at the end of the world. “You should ask her to do something.” He suggests. “Something different.”

“Like when you guys go star gazing?” She asks, turning around to face him while she walks backward.

Joel smirks slightly, knowing that the star gazing often turns into more, but he just shrugs. “Something like that. Bird watching, star gazing, collecting shiny rocks from the riverbed.”

“Shiny rocks is good.” Like it’s the most profound thought in the world, Ellie nods. “We could go, like…walking on the river and pick up stones and look for birds?”

“Yeah.” Joel nods and smiles at the sight of Ellie staring off dreamily as she imagines her date. “Just be safe, you know?” He adds, clearing his throat. “Just because, you know, there can’t be babies doesn’t mean you can’t catch something.”

“Oh, ew, okay, way to ruin it.” She sticks her tongue out at him and makes a grossed out sound just as the house comes into view.

“Yeah, that’s what I get for trying to talk about that shit.” He chuckles and winces at the way he has managed to mess that up. “I’m sure you know all about what you need to know.” You have been a great motherly figured and he feels like having Ellie to dote on has helped you too.

It’s a few minutes later that Ellie busts in the front door of the house and sheds her jacket and tool belt to immediately to run upstairs. “Everything okay?” You ask Joel when he ambles in after her. “Ellie didn’t say a word when she came in. I’m assuming either something went wrong or she’s nervous about seeing Dina?”

Joel grins, a mischievous glint to his gaze as he looks at you. “Embarrassed her.” He admits shamelessly. “Told her that just because there won’t be no babies, don’t mean there can’t be something caught.” He feels just like he did when he embarrassed Sarah years ago.

“Nothing says quality Dad time like horrifying your teenager.” The smile you have for him is soft and sweet, and you wait until he’s shucked his jacket and set down his tools to kiss him.

His arms come around you easily. His own pressing of his lips against yours soft and promising. “Yeah. It’s pretty great.” He jokes, squeezing you slightly.

This is what’s great, and you sigh softly to yourself without even realizing it as the two of you just stand in the living room holding each other. The sense of serenity in just this house alone is such an enormous comfort to you and it’s almost entirely due to this man. “She’s a good kid,” you murmur in agreement.

“She is. And she’s about to have her first real girlfriend.” He snorts. “They grow up so fast, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” A small nod of your head comes as your eyes drop back to the floor, thinking of the son you buried who will never see these milestones. “They do…”

“I’m sorry, beautiful girl.” It was a thoughtless comment, even for him. Knowing your loss and his own loss, he should have never said anything.

“It’s okay.” Sniffling the feeling away as best you can, you set your face to rights again and offer him a smile. “It’s just…I had another dream about him last night. That’s all.” They’re less frequent than they were but they do still happen regularly. It’s a battle not to let them take over your whole mind.

“I wish you were still holdin’ him.” Joel murmurs softly, pulling you into his arms for a comforting hug. “That I could have protected you both.”

“Nothing could have saved him.” As much as it hurts, you’ve had to make your peace with losing your son. There just wasn’t any way to keep him alive — especially considering you barely kept yourself alive. What’s terrifying is, as you lean into Joel’s chest, you could swear that you can feel hope winging in your chest. “At least…if it ever happens again…I know we’ll be safe this time.”

He wants to immediately shoot that down, to pretend you had never mentioned it. Too painful to even imagine losing another child, losing you. “I swear you would be safe.” Is what he promises, his hold on you tightening even more. As if his hug could shelter you from all the unknowns.

“I’m not asking for another. I’m not even sure I want another.” That clarification feels vitally important as his arms squeeze you tight. “I’m just saying, if it happened…I wouldn’t have to be scared.”

“You never have to be scared as long as I’m here.” He promises instantly. “If it happened, you ain’t gotta worry about me. I’ll take care of you.”

It’s a hell of a conversation to have almost by accident, considering you haven’t even had ‘traditional’ sex yet, but it’s important. Because you will. With the way you love him and the way he loves you, it’s not too far away. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, beautiful girl.” By accident, Joel had learned that you love when he cups your cheek gently, so he does it now.

“When you two are done being mushy, I’m ready to go.” Neither of you had even heard Ellie come downstairs again, but here she is, grinning at you and teasing unrepentantly.

“Well, if you’re ready to go, what are we waiting for?” Joel huffs sarcastically, rolling his eyes at the teenager.

“For you to change your smelly ass shirt.” Ellie snorts.

Joel rolls his eyes, but he pulls away, knowing that he had been sweating plenty while working on the pen. “I’ll be two minutes.” He promises you.

Two minutes is enough for you to put away the last of your sewing, and Joel comes back down in a clean shirt with a smile on his face, ready to take his girls to a movie. It never matters what the movie is, you always go, always thinking back to that first date from months ago when things had started falling into place.

“Dina and Ellie are probably going to go sit by themselves, do you want to sit with Tommy and Maria, or find a cozy spot?” Joel asks as all of you walk out of the house.

“I’m feeling cozy,” you admit, taking his hand to hold when he offers it to you. “But we can be cozy next to your brother and Maria if you like. I can’t even remember what the movie is tonight. You might want to actually watch it.”

“Naaaaaahhhhh.” There’s been too many movies between that first one and now, but he’s still concentrating on you. Just the normalcy of being in this position with you.

“Gross.” Bemoans the teenager just a few feet away, but Ellie smirks more these days when she teases you than she used to. Since admitting she likes Dina, she seems to get it a little more.

“Whatever kid.” Joel slings his arm around your shoulder, having talked about the more casual touches and setting boundaries for everyday life after you moved in. You hadn’t wanted him to ask permission every time and he hadn’t wanted you to feel you had to feel bad for not wanting to be touch. So you had introduced a color system. If it was a hands off moment, you would tell ‘red’ and he wouldn’t touch you. If you told him ‘yellow’ it was an ask day. ‘Green’, like you had confirmed earlier before Tommy had arrived, meant he was free to touch you in a non-sexual way without any questions.

The walk is easy. Halfway there Dina appears from her own house to join Ellie, and a little bit further down the road you’re joined by the two women who have taken on being Jackson’s schoolteachers. Casual chatting is easy tonight. You don’t worry when Ellie and Dina slip ahead to find seats in their own back corner. You don’t worry because there hasn’t been reason to. Not in so very long.

Joel looks around the room, not because he’s measuring a threat or searching for an exit, just…seeing who is here. He sees Maria and Tommy chatting with a town council member and he wonders how the interview went. Not enough to move from your side as he guides you towards a pair of chairs, but he notices a stranger standing off to the side, dumbly watching the scene in front of him. “Huh.” He grunts.

“Want to sit in back?” Your eyes are on Joel and there is mischief in your smile when you look up at him. His arm is still around you and there’s something in the casual care of it that you’ve grown to love.

“Yeah.” He looks into your eyes and a slight smirk makes his face transform from hard to playful. “Take up the back so the kids can’t have it. We’ll make out.”

"They're not gonna kiss the first time at the movies." From talking with Ellie you know that she and Dina are either a long way off from that happening — or possibly a kiss will happen that will spark the conversation and other necessary things. But either way, the first one is definitely not going to happen in public. "We can definitely steal some back row seats from them."

“Never know.” Joel leans in to whisper in your ear. “Figure she might be smarter than the average kid.”

"Smart enough to treat her girl right." You can agree to that entirely. For now you tuck into his side, weaving your way through the seats to find your customary place in a dark corner.

When you turn into the seats with your fingers tangled through Joel's, though, you stop short. Sitting with another one of the town council members who is always hounding Joel to accept their invitation to join, is a tall man with rounded shoulders and an unkempt beard. His hair is shaggy and his eyes skirt around the room furtively, sussing out as many details and inspecting as many faces as they can until they fall on you. "Oh god..." Freezing in place at Joel's side, your fingers dig into his arm immediately, clawing at him instead of your usual gentle grip. "I—Joel—I think I'm having a flashback," you murmur quietly, not trusting your eyes even though the man sitting six feet away looks almost nothing like he did when you left Chicago over a year ago.

“What?” Joel frowns and he immediately reaches out to stroke your neck like you enjoy. “Still green?” He asks quietly, unsure of what has you rattled, but if something is bothering your peace, he wants to help.

“I need you to tell me if you see that man.” As shaky and as quiet as your voice is — barely a whisper — you don’t take your eyes off of the figure sitting by the windows for even a second. “With the brown hair and the thin beard?”

Joel frowns and quickly turns around. “The green plaid?” He asks as he looks away from the man back to you, noting how your breath is starting to rapidly increase, you’re about to have a panic attack. “Black jeans?”

“Oh god…” You had been hoping it wasn’t real. That he wasn’t real. That it was just your mind ruining your good mood with conjured images and fears that had so recently been put to bed. But now your vision is blurring and your knees are buckling, and the world is spinning around you so quickly that you feel like you’re going to be sick as your skin starts to crawl. “How?” You keep repeating, over and over again, muttering the word to yourself like a broken record. “How is he here? How?”

Something is seriously wrong and Joel is a man who going to fix what’s wrong. Turning back around, the man is gone and he quickly stands, pulling you to your feet. “Let’s go, beautiful girl.” He rushes out, knowing you would not want to have whatever is going on made public.

“How?” It’s like your mind is stuck on the worst kind of repeated loop, bumping over that one word, and you feel so stiff and terrified that you can barely swallow despite nearly hyperventilating and the tears now streaming down your cheeks. “How did he get here? How did he find me?”

“Who, beautiful girl, who?” Joel pulls you outside the movie theatre that used to be the old electronics store and cups your cheeks. “Who is he?” He knows, he feels it in his gut, but he wants you to say it.

The light in your eyes, the one that has so carefully been fostered and nurtured over the months you’ve spent in Jackson and especially with Joel, has completely gone out as you hiccup over a sob. Even two syllables are too much to take when you had felt so safe. “Aidan.”

His jaw hardens, his eyes flattening and darkening at the mention of the man who had tortured you. Done unspeakable things to you and nearly broken you. The name he had hoped you wouldn’t say. “They had a stranger come in today.” Joel wishes he had gone now, interviewed this man. “He helped the scouting party and they brought him in to interview.” Joel rubs his hands up and down your arms. “I’ll talk to Tommy, get him kicked out. He won’t stay.”

“He saw me.” You had looked each other straight in the eyes. It’s how you knew, in the worst pit of your stomach, that you weren’t hallucinating him. “H-he’s never going to leave i-if he knows I’m—I’m here…”

“Look at me.” Joel’s voice hardens slightly, knowing you are about to break down and he wants to keep you clear-headed. “He. Won’t. Touch. You.” He promises slowly, clearly. “They aren’t gonna want that son of a bitch here. He must have lied to the council and that doesn’t go over with them.”

“How?” Is all you can manage, feeling months’ worth of happiness shred apart inside you. Joel has you leaning with your back to the side of the building, but with every passing second your legs are giving out beneath you and you’re starting to slide to the ground in a deluge of new tears. You’ll never be safe. It will never be over.

He knows that nothing he can say will make you feel better, nothing. “Let me take you home.” He insists. “Then I’ll talk to Tommy.”

“Please don’t leave?” Any chance you have at protection lies with him and him alone, and you’re now more certain than ever that if he leaves your side, you’re doomed.

“Okay, okay beautiful girl.” Joel pulls you close. “I won’t leave. Let me take you home and Ellie can come home on her own.”

“O-okay.” As long as he doesn’t leave you, that’s what matters right now, and you cling to Joel like a lifeline when you hear the building doors open around the corner and the sound of heavy boots on the street.

“Joel?” It’s Tommy’s voice calling into the night. He must have seen you bolt for the door.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh, it’s Tommy.” Even though you know it’s his brother, your body tenses and you let out a whimper that breaks Joel’s heart as much as it makes him what to rip this Aidan apart. “I’m over here.”

“Everything okay?” When Tommy saunters around the side of the building it is immediately apparent that something is extremely wrong, and the younger Miller brother frowns in confusion.

“That fucker the council let in.” Joel growls, turning a fierce glare on the younger Miller, even though he had nothing to do with it. “What’s his name?”

“Um…Michael? Mike? Turner, I think it was. Mike Turner. Why?” He doesn’t like how pale you look, or how hard you have obviously been crying, and Tommy crosses his arms in discomfort. “Did he say or do something?”

“His fucking name is Aidan.” Joel hisses, looking back at you and hating how you flinch at the mere name.

“What the fuck?” Tommy’s eyes blow wide at that accusation, knowing exactly who ‘Aidan’ is and why you aren’t thrilled to hear the name ever. “That motherfucker is Aidan Stokes? You’re sure?”

“I’m taking her home.” He tells his brother. “Have Ellie sleep at your place?” He knows you will have a bad night and the best thing is to minimize the people witnessing it. Tommy nods and Joel pulls you away from the walk. “And get that fucker the hell out of here.” He calls over his shoulder, wishing he could take care of the problem himself.

“I’m on it.” Tommy promises, taking in the expression of pure terror and twisted grief on your features. In thirty seconds flat it’s as if you’ve gone back to being the same panicked little creature that you were when he had found you almost a year ago.

“Come one, beautiful girl.” Joel’s hands are gentle, trying to soothe as he coaxes you along. “We will get back to the house. Ellie will be at Tommy’s, all safe, and you will be with me. I won’t go anywhere.”

“I’m sorry.” Even murmured under your breath, the apology sounds just like the shadow of yourself that you had been for so long before Joel walked into Jackson and into your life. Apologizing for taking up space. For infringing on anyone else’s existence. For having the audacity to exist yourself.

“You got nothin’ to apologize for, beautiful girl.” If anything, he should apologize to you for not checking on that stranger. For exposing you to the terror of your past.

“Please don’t leave…” That thought is first and foremost in your head right now, barely even looking where you’re going through the sheet of shaky tears. You just can’t stomach the thought of losing Joel now, after so much. It would be like losing everything.

“Why would I leave?” He asks softly, aware that you are vulnerable and scared after seeing the specter of your nightmares. “You ain’t gettin’ rid of me, beautiful girl, I’m right here.”

There is a surge of it’s not fair slicing through the undercurrent of your thoughts, but more than not fair and more than scary, the situation is volatile. “He doesn’t know…” you remind Joel, clinging to his arm like the lifeline that it is. “Th—that—that I buried the baby.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Joel promises you quietly. “He’s not going to bother you, not gonna touch you.” He knows that Tommy will do what’s necessary to get the fucker gone from the community. Especially given what he knows was done to you.

“He’s going to try to.” Somewhere in the worst pit of your stomach, you know Aidan will try his hardest to get to the child he thinks you still have. Regardless of whose baby it biologically was, he had always viewed it as his. There had been weeks and months of taunting you over how that baby was going to be his control over you. So much so that you were actually a little grateful when he died. For his sake as much as your own.

“He’s leaving. We will make sure he’s gone.” Tommy will, because Joel isn’t going to leave your side. “You’re safe, sweet girl, I’m not going to let him even talk to you.” Fury floods his entire body, dark and brooding. Angry that this man has stolen the hard fought peace that you have started enjoying.

It doesn’t take long to get home with Joel hustling you along the street, even if you live outside of the main reaches of what could be considered downtown. You’re bundled into the house and stay next to Joel, watching him lock the doors and carefully walk through the house to assure you that you’re safe.

“We’re safe.” Joel promises you, stripping off the light jacket you had brought with you and rubbing your arms. He wants to kiss you, but is unsure if it might trigger some memories for you.

“I don’t know how he found me.” That’s the real question for you, and you’ve been rolling it over and over in your head since your head stopped spinning as badly.

“Don’t think he was expecting you to be here.” Joel didn’t miss the surprise and fury in the man’s face when he looked over at him. “Unhappy accident.”

“Fucking miserable accident,” you sigh, letting yourself slump forward into Joel’s arms for all the security and warmth that they provide.

“I know, beautiful girl.” Joel growls, shaking his head. “He’s stolen your smile, and I’m not going to allow that. He’s not going to interrupt your peace again.”

"I don't think I'm going to be able to sleep tonight." It's bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit, the way ten seconds has stolen away (in Joel's words) a whole year of progress. "But I don't want you to not sleep on my account."

“You think I’m gonna sleep if you’re awake?” Joel would roll his eyes, but he knows you will just shut down even more. “No, beautiful girl, we can stay up together. Make sure that you are safe. And then, when he’s out of this town and out of our lives for good, we’ll sleep.”

"I'm sorry." The murmured apology is less for something you've done directly and more for the fact that you know this is affecting his life in a very distinct way now. A way that he would not have to worry about at all if not for you.

“Nothin’ to be sorry about.” He cups your cheek. Tilting your head up from where it’s looking down at the floor. Holding your chin is a no for you, but you don’t fight him. “Nothin’.” He repeats. “You want a hot bath? Soak? I can sit on the toilet seat while you do.”

"I just want to get in bed." Something about the vulnerability of being naked is too much to deal with right now and you shake your head slightly, hoping he will understand. "Can't exactly turn on the tv and zone out to a bad movie anymore." You wish you could, but because of that bastard you had to leave movie night.

“You want to change into your softest pajamas and then we can curl up?” Joel offers. “I can go into the bathroom and get you a glass of water while you change.”

"Stay with me?" The pajamas and curling up part sounds perfect, but you swallow thickly at the idea of him going anywhere. It's clingy, sure, but right now that's pretty fucking understandable. I don't...I don't think I can be alone."

“Always, beautiful girl.” Joel nods and he pushes the bedroom door almost closed after he steps back from you. Starting to shrug out of his jacket. “We’ll just pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist, hmm? Sound good to you?” He wishes he had some of the drugs he used to peddle in Boston, he would give you a few to calm you down if you wanted.

"Would you...mind talking to me?" The monologue in your head — all that noise that overtakes and overwhelms you with anxiety — quiets when Joel talks. Like your nerves are only willing to listen to him and him alone. "About anything. I just...it helps quiet all the angry thoughts."

“Sure, beautiful girl.” He’s dealt with this before, with Ellie after her run in with David, and he kicks off his shoes. “Thinkin’ I might take that council seat after all.” Tonight has been the deciding factor for him. “Have a say in who comes into this place. It’ll mean that some of the repairs will have to be done by Thompson, but he’s comin’ along. He’s not a complete idiot.”

"A town like this can't survive with just one good handyman." It's already better, just hearing him talk. The soothing cadence of Joel's voice sheds just a speck of anxiety everytime he opens his mouth and you remind yourself that you have to move. You're supposed to be changing your clothes to get ready for bed.

“Tommy’s better, but don’t tell him I said that.” His belt opens and he quickly unbuttons his jeans. “Man’s getting a little too cocky, strutting around here with that goofy grin of his.”

"He's happy." Tommy has a full life here. One that he reached out and took hold of with both hands and full determination. He has a wife and a baby and work that keeps him satisfied and busy. That's not the kind of thing he ever could have claimed about his life before Jackson. It's something to be proud of, and you're happy for your friend. Even if right now happy feels a million miles away.

“Yeah, he is.” It’s amazing to say, even more amazing to realize that his own feelings are pretty goddamn close to happy as well. At least until about twenty minutes ago. “What a loser.” He jokes, chuckling at his own lame joke. You have started undressing and he’s happy that you are focused on something else.

"Before tonight, I would have said we were happy, too." There is no lingering stroll across the room, or fully stripping down before completely redressing in your pajamas like usual. As soon as your regular shirt is off, the soft material of your sleep shirt replaces it. No sooner are jeans shed than warm sweatpants replace them. This is perfunctory, not an enjoyable and lazy night with your boyfriend.

“We are happy.” Joel soothes quietly. “Today is a bad day. Tomorrow might be too, but he’s not going to ruin our happiness, even if it takes a few steps back.” Joel sits on the edge of the bed, watching you as your fingers fumble with the edges of your shirt. “How do you want to cuddle, beautiful girl?” He asks. “You want me surrounding you? Or do you want to sprawl out on me?” He wants to give you as much control as possible right now, knowing how helpless you feel.

“I need you around me.” He really is your safe place. There is no doubt about that. But as you take a step toward him and the bed, the sounds of someone pounding on the front door downstairs ring through the brittle air.

Joel’s springing to his feet and frowning. Especially since you immediately look like you’re about to faint. “Go to the bathroom.” He tells you. “Lock the door.”

There are a lot of thing a in the world that you doubt — almost everything, really — but not Joel. Even though you feel frozen you manage to do what he tells you, grasping him in a tight hug before he closes the bathroom door for you beside your bedroom and you click the lock into place. Do you need him around you to feel safe and supported? Absolutely. But you’ve also learned to trust his instincts.

The hunting knife from the basement had been moved to his dresser and he grabs it before coming down the stairs. Listening to the pounding on the door as he crawls closer. On edge until he recognizes the silhouette of his brother.

The moment the door cracks open Joel sees the panic on Tommy’s face and his little brother smooths the hairs out of his face with one expressive hand. “Is she okay?” He asks immediately, your safety being top priority in this moment.

“She’s upset. But she’s fine.” Joel frowns, looking around. “Why are you here?”

The frown on Tommy’s lips is immediate, forehead creasing in apologetic embarrassment. “He’s—Stokes— he’s gone,” he admits quietly, just in case you’re nearby.

“He’s gone?” Joel frowns and steps outside. “What the fuck does that mean? You’ve already kicked him out?” It doesn’t seem like Tommy would be so upset by this fact so something’s not adding up.

“By the time I got back into the movie he had bolted,” Tommy explains, obviously pained to have to admit that he’s fucked up your safety. Or at least that he feels like it’s his fault. “Town council’s got people patrolling and staked out all over and the movie’s going ahead so nobody gets spooked.”

Joel reaches out and grabs the edges of Tommy’s jean jacket. “I’m going to kill him.” He growls to his brother. “When he’s caught, I’m going to ‘escort’ him out of town. Won’t do it here, but she’s nearly catatonic with panic.”

“If I find him first, I’m getting a few hits in for what he did to her,” his brother promises him. Tommy’s felt like an overprotective brother since the day he brought you into town. These days? He takes the job pretty literally.

“Shit.” Joel lets go of Tommy’s jacket and steps back into the opened door. “I need to— don’t tell her.” He warns him. “If he’s not caught right away. I can’t— we aren’t leavin’ this house.”

“It’ll only make her more scared to know he’s running around.” Tommy can absolutely agree to that, though he knows you might be upset with them later for not keeping you completely informed. The less fear and panic you feel, the better.

“I’m not gonna tell her, but I’m not gonna let her leave until I know that fucker is in ropes, ready to be lead to slaughter.” Joel frowns.

“Fair enough.” Considering Tommy has a knife in one pocket and a gun on his other hip, it’s fair to bet that he feels the same way. “I’m sorry, Joel. If I’d have been faster we coulda taken care of this easily. But we’ll get it sorted.” He’s ready to go — ready to join the patrol that is currently stalking the streets of Jackson — when he hears a sound in the basement.

Joel freezes, eyes narrowing as he listens. The second step from the bottom of the basement stairs creaks and it just made a sound. “He fucking— that bastard.” Joel hisses, spinning around and rushing towards the basement door.

The door makes a sickening crack when Joel throws it open, but Tommy is on his heels. The motherfucker followed them. He took a look at a happy and healthy and thriving woman and decided to ruin her again. He just didn’t bet on the fucking Miller brothers to be in his way.

Joel goes barreling down the stairs, lowering his shoulder at the figure that is about halfway up. Grunting when he connects with the body, Joel pushes off the stairs and launches both him and the motherfucker into the air.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” When he hits the ground he’s sure he hears something crack in his shoulder. The figure that flew at him is a blur and there’s more footsteps on the stairs that he can’t see the owner of through the fist headed straight for his face.

The first crack of a fist hitting bone is sharp, pain blooming in his fist and radiating up his arm, but Joel barely registers it. Fury numbing him to the pain and adrenaline coursing through his veins. “Fucker.”

“What—fuck—what the fuck?!” Putting up his arms to cover his face and thinking fast, he tries to pull away and keep from getting his face ruined.

"Break into my house." Joel growls furiously, pulling his fist back again and letting it fly. "Looking for her."

“Looking for my baby!” It’s the sympathy vote. Banking on shame and embarrassment and not being willing to tell the entire story to worm his way through the details. The sob story is his best chance of not getting his face beat in.

Joel knows what the man is doing. He had heard the same sad excuses used by others once upon a time when he was less than scrupulous. Not that he's an upstanding citizen now, but this is personal. "Didn't knock." Joel points out as he grabs the man's jacket and hauls him up so that the single light from a bare bulb illuminates your tormentor's face and gives his own a dark, foreboding, shadow as he glares down at him. "Big mistake." He grunts right before punching him again.

“Wait—wait!” Kicking his legs and barely managing to throw the next blow, the descent of another assailant at the bottom of the stairs and another fist comes out of nowhere along with a pained scream.

“Why are you here?” Joel roars, gripping the man with both hands and shaking him like a rag doll, furious that he would dare break in to harm you.

“For my baby!” He tries again, mind not really working hard on a new excuse when he’s trying to fend off now two grown men apparently intent on beating the shit out of him.

“There is no baby.” From the top of the stairs, your voice cuts through the din — shaky but loud enough to be heard.

Joel’s head twists around and he stares at the black figure at the top of the stairs. “We have him.” He pants, keeping the iron grip on the man who had tortured you and makes him hiss in pain when he grabs his hair and yanks his head back for you to see his already battered face. He knows it pains you to admit your son is gone, but he’s concentrating on your safety.

“I can see that.” The click of metal comes before you step down the stairs, Joel’s gun held out in front of you with a surprisingly steady hand. “I could hear it from upstairs.”

“You don’t have to be around him.” Joel promises you, keeping an eye on you as you descend the stairs with the gun in your hand. He knows you won’t shoot him, but you could drop the revolver.

From catatonic with fear to oddly quiet and resolute, your entire mood has changed in the mere minutes that Joel has been gone. It was the idea that he could hurt Joel that changed everything. That the happiness that you’ve fought so hard for here in Jackson could be taken by the same man who stole your entire sense of self for so long. That isn’t going to happen. “He’s in our house,” you remind Joel flatly. As if to say that makes him both our problem.

“Our house?” The man on the ground has the audacity to sneer the question. Making Joel hiss. “Managed to get your hooks into this one already? Knew you were a slut.”

Joel growls, turning around and slamming the man into the concrete so his head bounces few good times before yanking him up again. “Shut the fuck up before I rip your goddamn tongue out.” He warns darkly.

“Why are you here, Aidan?” Making no mistake about the action, you very deliberately aim the revolver at his chest and put your thumb on the hammer.

“I’m— they brought me here!” He cries, eyes widening and darting back to look at the two men who are towering over him. He hadn’t thought you would be protected like this when he broke in. “Not for you! Why would I want a whore like you?” He shakes his head, addressing Tommy and Joel. “She’s—don’t know how many men she’s fucked here, but she was in Chicago with us—my group. She spread her legs for anyone.” He lies desperately.

Carefully cocking the revolver is the sound that cuts through Aidan’s bullshit, and Tommy is staring at you in completely silent wonder as he and Joel hold tight to your attacker. “I know why you’re in Jackson, asshole. I’m asking why you’re in my basement.”

“I don’t—I didn’t—you bit—” the comment is cut off by a howl of anguish, his body jerking.

Joel has just driven his hunting knife into the meaty flesh of his thigh above his knee. “Fucking lie to her and I’ll pop your kneecap off like a pimple.”

It turns out that under the layers of fear and the layers of trauma, it’s protecting your family that is what brings out the deadliest tendencies in you. Thinking about what could have happened if Ellie or the baby were here? It snapped you out of all that terror faster than blinking. “One more time. Why are you here?”

Sobbing, Aidan isn’t nearly as powerful as he had been in Chicago. He had assumed this little town was his ticket to safety, to shelter. Until he had seen you and immediately decided that he would use you to solidify his position here in this place. He had been warned by the council that if it didn’t work out he would be taken out into the wilderness and left. “For you. You’re mine.” He tells you, looking at you with a pitiful, pleading expression. “I love you, baby. And you swore you would always love me.”

“He told you not to lie to me.” Surprising to everyone including yourself, you step forward and finally come off the bottom step to stand on the basement floor. “I don’t belong to you and I don’t love you and everybody in this room knows what you and your cronies did to me so don’t fucking lie about it.”

“I can’t go back out there.” Aidan confesses, grimacing in pain and trying not to move too much because of the knife embedded in his thigh. “I won’t— I can’t be out there. You can make it to where I can stay.”

At the idea that you would help him in any way, you actually laugh out loud. “You’re not going back out there,” you promise him with dark surety. “But that’s mostly because you’re not leaving this basement. If I don’t kill you?” You nod to Joel, knowing full well that you’re being honest. “He will.”

“You were a dead man the moment I found out who you were.” Joel growls honestly. Even if the town council had let him go, Joel would have tracked him down. Wanting to make sure that there was no way he could ever show back up in your life.

“So the only thing you get to decide is how fast you die.” With the revolver still in your hand, you raise your arm to point it at his head instead of at his chest where there is too much chance of hitting something that will only wound but not kill him. “I can do this quickly. Or I can let him tear you apart.” The nod to Joel is understood, but for some reason you can’t stomach the idea of Aidan Stokes knowing anything about your happy life. Not even Joel’s name.

Joel watches you for a moment and then lets Aidan go, straightening up and stepping back. He wont stop you if this is what you want to. It’s your right, your fucking right to end this piece of shit if you want.

“Fast or slow, Aidan?” Not that you were given a choice in how you were tortured. Or your son was given a choice in how long he lived. Not that Joel was given a choice in keeping Sarah. Not that Aidan will truly get to choose, either. You’ve already made up your mind what will happen to him.

“Babe...please.” Aidan shakes his head. “You don’t— this isn’t you. You love me.” He protests.

“It’s the person you made me.” You tell him flatly, before carefully holding the gun out to Joel. “However you want to do it,” you tell him flatly, before turning and taking Tommy’s arm to leave the basement. The truth is that you aren’t sure you could pull the trigger, even after everything you’ve been through. But you sure as hell never want him touching another living being ever again.

Joel smirks, a dark look in his eyes and Tommy swallows. He knows what Joel is capable of when he wants to be vicious. “Do you want to watch, beautiful girl?” His voice is soft. Deceptively so.

“No.” In the back of your mind you know that Joel will hold back if you are here, and that is a mercy that Aidan doesn’t deserve. “We’re going to sit upstairs. Come up when you’re done.” There will be more work to do at that point. There will be cleaning and disposal of a body you intend to spit on once it’s in the ground.

“Baby, wait.” Aidan’s panicked voice is laughing nervously. “You don’t mean that. It’s not funny, tell him you’re joking.” He begs. “Tell him you’re joking!”

You stop on the second step, the one that squeaks and now you don’t think you ever want Joel to repair it. With a drawn face and nothing but hardness in your eyes, you turn and shake your head at the man who has tortured you in so many different ways for years. “Rot in hell, Aidan.”

“Baby…baby…” his voices rises in panic and his eyes widen, scrambling to his feet and groaning at the wound in his leg. “Baby, don’t go! Don’t do this!” Joel lifts his foot and plants it in the middle of Aidan’s chest to kick him back down.

The last sounds he gets from you is the definite thumping of your heels on the ground floor and the slamming shut of the basement door followed by the click of the lock that holds it in place. Of course there is a mechanism on the other side so it can be opened by anyone downstairs as well, but it's the principle of the thing. That his fate has been sealed, and by you.

“You should leave now.” Joel tells Tommy seriously. What he’s about to do might get him in serious trouble with the town council and he doesn’t want to fuck things up for his younger brother. He’s got Maria and the baby to think about. If Joel gets kick out of Jackson, you can come with him.

Tommy doesn't say anything, but only nods and hustles up the stairs after you. He unlocks the door to let himself out into the kitchen then locks it again behind him, unsure of the state he'll find you in.

All the emotion you have is basically tied up in exhaustion, which has you leaning against the kitchen counter when Tommy appears. Whatever Joel is going to do downstairs is up to him. But whatever it is, you sincerely hope it causes the man who hurt you as much pain as absolutely possible on his way out of this life.

The sounds start almost immediately. The dull thwack of something hitting something soft, followed by a muffled cry. Repeated in a symphony of motion that could almost have a rhythm until it pauses. Followed by a low murmur and a vicious howl of agony.

“Self defense,” you murmur a few seconds later, looking up at Tommy. “He broke into our house. Joel had to act in self-defense.” The council will ask questions. You know that. But you aren’t about to let anything happen to Joel as a result of what just happened downstairs. If need be, you will stand in front of the town’s leadership and tell them exactly what he did to you in excruciating detail. They won’t argue after that.

“I’ll tell ‘em the same thing.” Tommy immediately agrees. “After all, he did break in.” He steps closer to you, a frown on his face pulling his mustache down. “How are you holdin’ up? I know— honey, I’m so goddamn sorry. I didn’t know.”

“You couldn’t have. It’s not like I showed you his picture or anything.” You’re definitely not doing well, but you’re doing better than you thought you would be with all things considered.

“I should have asked more questions.” Tommy shakes his head and is still going to blame himself. A high pitched squeal comes from the basement door and he looks over at it knowingly.

“That assumes that he would have given honest answers.” You shake your head and pour two short glasses of water, offering one to Tommy and sipping the other for yourself. The antique clock nearby reads almost one in the morning and you frown at it, shaking your head. “It’s over now. Joel is finishing the job and I can start to sleep a little bit deeper at night.”

The low moan of pain is almost animalistic, long and drawn out, is almost cut off with a wet gurgle. Tommy shifts, almost visualizing what Joel is doing to cause that sound.

“He deserves it,” you remind Tommy, who fidgets at the sounds coming from the basement. “I’m just glad Ellie is at your house. She shouldn’t have to hear any of this.”

“I know he deserves it.” Tommy nods. “I just know what Joel is doing based on the sounds.” He admits. “There was a time that we…weren’t the best people.”

“I know.” Joel has told you some of his own past. Nothing too graphic, but enough that you had a very solid idea of what he is capable of. “That’s why I know he’ll finish the job when I don’t think I could.”

“I think you would have.” Tommy argues. “You looked like you would have pulled the trigger right then when you came down those stairs.”

You nod, thinking perhaps you might really have done it right there in the beginning. But you’ll never know. “There’s no guarantee that my aim would have been good enough to kill him.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Tommy snorts. “It’s amazing what can happen when the people you love are threatened.” As if agreeing, another sound comes from the basement.

The clock draws your eye again, and you glance out the window up at the moon before looking back at Tommy. “It’s his birthday,” you tell him quietly. “The baby’s. He should be one today.”

Tommy bites his lip and nods, understanding that this is a bittersweet day for you. “Then it’s just that it’s today that bastard draws his last breath.”

"They always say babies look like their father, but he didn't. He looked like me." At least you could be grateful for that, if nothing else. "It's a small mercy."

“He was beautiful then.” Tommy tells you quietly, patting your shoulder and wondering if you wanted a hug. “Inside and out.”

“Thank you.” It’s enough that Tommy is kind. That you have come to know and to trust him as a brother over the last year. It’s enough that he’s here and he’s supportive. Even if being supportive just means standing with you in silence while Joel finishes what needs to be finished downstairs.

Slowly, footsteps sound on the stairs. Not a thudding, heavy trod, but weary. Stopping at the top and there’s a small knock, just one rap of a knuckle against the wood.

You make it to the door before Tommy does, flipping the lock and pulling it open to reveal Joel on the top step with more than a little blood on him.

The vicious fire is gone, extinguished from his eyes and replaced with a weary sense of peace. He doesn’t reach for you, aware that you could be repulsed by the sight of him. “It’s done.” He sighs out. “He’ll never fuckin’ bother you again.”

There is no blood on his face somehow, no remnant there of the work he’s done besides the sweat on his forehead, and you kiss him softly before stepping back. “Go wash up, love. Tommy and I will take care of things from here, and then I’ll come to bed. Is that okay?”

Joel’s eyes slide over to Tommy and he silently communicates with him. “That’s fine, beautiful girl.”

******

It’s hours later when you fulfill that promise, dragging yourself up into your bedroom in the black of night to find Joel sitting up in bed staring at the wall. “I’ll wash,” you tell him wearily, the adrenaline of fear and finality having dissipated into the night. Now you’re just bone tired.

Joel nods. “I’ll run you a bath.” He moves slowly, groaning as he gets up from the bed and shuffles towards the bathroom. His hand is broken, fractured in several places and it will be a bitch to work for the next several weeks, but he doesn’t care. As long as you are safe, he will shoulder any pain.

“I—” In the doorway of the bathroom you pause, sunken shoulders and drawn face returning you to the sad, guilty version of yourself that you so often are when thoughts or even conversation turns to the topic of your past. It hangs in the air tonight like a heavy fog. “I’m sorry. For asking you to do that. But when I got downstairs I realized that I couldn’t pull the trigger, I just…I knew that you could.”

Joel frowns when he turns from the edge of the tub, reaching for the faucet to turn it on. “You have nothing to be sorry for.” He grunts quietly, shaking his head. “Come here, beautiful girl.”

“Asking you to kill for me seems like it warrants an apology,” you point out, though you willingly let him draw you into his chest without hesitation. The whole night was meant to be relaxed and rejuvenating and it had turned into hell.

“I would kill for you a hundred more times.” Joel huffs quietly. “I was afraid.” He admits. “Afraid that you would be afraid of me after seeing the aftermath.”

“Afraid of my knight returning from battle?” You shake your head against his chest and inhale the comforting scent of clean Joel. “I owe you everything. Hell…I wanted to give you everything anyway.”

“You don’t owe me a damn thing.” Joel huffs, relaxing against you and slipping his arms around your back. You seem crave the shelter of him right now, so he won’t even ask if you are comfortable. “I love you. I—you are perfect.”

“No I’m not.” It’s not even self deprecating, but you look up at him with a serious expression, arms tight around his waist. “But as long as we’re the right kind of imperfect for each other, I’m okay with that.”

“Let me take care of you, beautiful girl.” He murmurs softly. “I’ll keep you safe. Always.”

******

The next summer is sunny and hot, giving you an excuse to wear all of the cute dresses that you had made for yourself from scraps and hand-me-downs over your time in Jackson. Today is definitely not the day for scraps, though. Today you have possibly the nicest dress you have ever made for yourself. The soft yellow fabric is embroidered with flowers that match the crown of wildflowers that Dina helped you weave for your hair, and even though your belly is now big enough to be in the way more often than not, you feel like you’ve finally earned the name that Joel has been calling you since the very first night you went to the movies together more than a year ago. Tommy is with Joel and Ellie over at your house this morning while you’re getting ready for the day with Maria and cooing over the toddler that she and Tommy have devoted all of their time and love to. It’s a very big day. One that is both a long time coming and feels like it came at you faster that lightning.

“Too goddamn old for this.” Joel grumbles, running his hand over his surprisingly smooth cheek. The barber had offered a shave to go with the haircut this morning and he had decided to just leave a mustache. Tommy snickers and his older brother stops his pacing long enough to glower at him. “I’m fucking fifty-eight years old, about to get married and have a baby.” He’s not upset, he’s nervous, afraid of fucking it up. Wanting the hard fought for happiness that seems to be everyday life now.

“Nobody told you to propose, old man,” Tommy teases, getting a fist bump from Ellie for his effort.

Joel huffs and shakes his head. “What kinda man would I be if I didn’t?” He asks. “It’s my baby.”

“That’s Dad that I hear in there.” Still, Tommy can’t judge too much — and he isn’t, not really — since he did the same thing. “We’re damn lucky to have these women and we know it. We gotta keep them close.”

“Still can’t believe it.” Once the dragon of your nightmares had been slayed in real life, you had blossomed. It was like you had still been living with the subconscious fear that Aidan would find you. Now that he had been unceremoniously burned, his ashes buried, that weight had fallen off of you and very naturally, you had eased into a physical intimacy with Joel. It happened the first time. One time inside you and he had gotten you pregnant.

"You act like you didn't know where babies come from. Or forgot." Ellie is kicked back in the living room of the house in a full suit and tie with her boots all cleaned and shined for the occasion. Since Tommy is going to be the one to actually marry you on behalf of the Town Council, she's standing up as Joel's Best Person. "Do we need to draw you a diagram, old man?"

“Listen, brat—” Joel points his finger at the teenager. “Just because you can’t get pregnant with Dina, doesn’t mean you can get cocky.” He raises a brow. “Or should I make it a rule you gotta keep your door open when she’s over?”

"You wouldn't?!" That has her drawing back immediately, wide eyed and extremely displeased with the idea of not having privacy with her girlfriend.

“Mmmmhmmm.” He chuckles and straightens back up, pleased to have made his point, even if he was only teasing. “Now I just get to worry about everything all over again.”

"You've got help this time." While he's not proud of it, Tommy knows he wasn't a hugely helpful part of raising Sarah. He'd done what he could back then but he just had no idea how to be anything besides a playmate. Now, with a young child of his own, he's prepared to be a fully functioning extra pair of hands should you and Joel need the help.

"Uncle Tommy and Big Sister Ellie." The teen plants her fists on her hips and grins. "What could possibly go wrong?"

“God help us all.” Joel huffs, even though he’s extremely pleased with the sentiment. “You think she’s ready yet?” He asks, glancing at the clock impatiently. “Damn woman wanted to wait to get married, and she’s about to pop.”

"Just as long as she doesn't go into labor at the reception," Tommy jokes, shaking his head. That had happened one of his old Army buddies way back when.

“Oh fuck.” Joel’s eyes widen at the possibility.

“Christ, Tommy,” Ellie groans, throwing a pillow at the younger Miller. “Don’t get him all freaked out.”

“Doc Sanchez is gonna be there, right?” He asks Tommy, ignoring the eye rolling. Most of the damn town is going to be at the second ever Jackson wedding, both of them ironically Millers, but he has to be sure.

“The whole ass town is going to be there.” Tommy hoists himself out of his seat to try to soothe his brother. Joel wants this, he’s just nervous as all hell. “But yes, Doc Sanchez will be there.”

“Good.” Joel blows out a breath and grins, a halfcocked thing that lights up his face and makes him look younger, softer. “Fuck, I’m getting married.”

“How you found two different women willing to put up with your shit forever, I’ll never know.” He pats his brother on the shoulder, but Tommy is grinning too. He knows how much you and Joel love each other, and how you’ve eased the stings and bruises of each other’s pasts.

“Don’t know, but I’m lucky.” Joel admits easily. You know about his past with Tess and don’t feel jealous of it, which he is grateful for.

“It’s almost time.” Ellie points at the clock on the mantle and hops to her feet, ready to snap the straps on her suspenders if she was wearing any.

The wedding is supposed to be simple, but it doesn’t feel that way. His heart is in his throat and he remembers another wedding, a lifetime ago, and he knows it will be better than that one. He never regretted being with his ex-wife, because he had Sarah, but he knows he will be a better partner, husband, and hopefully father this time around. He’s getting a second chance at life and he’s not going to take it for granted. “Let’s go get me married.”

******

The wedding was supposed to be simple, but it didn’t end up feeling that way. The flowers cut by neighbors and friends from their gardens, the food cooked and delivered from kitchens all around town, and the few musically inclined folks coming together to make a band all mean that this morning at town hall felt like the most exquisite frontier wedding you could ever ask for, and now that the reception is in full swing it’s probably the biggest party that Jackson’s seen since well before the world ended. Mr. and Mrs. Miller pronounces the hand drawn sign on the little table where you and Joel are sitting, eating your lunch and watching people move to and fro filling their plates and saying their hellos. In time you’ll start the dancing, but for now the first one to get their boogie on is the peanut you’ve been carrying around for the last eight months.

You grimace slightly and Joel is immediately turning towards you. The wedding band on his finger feels foreign but he ignores the way it catches the light as he reaches out to touch your stomach. Feeling the baby has been unlimited for him, although your days of not wanting to be touched are becoming few and far between. “Are you okay, beautiful girl?” He asks quietly, trying to alarm anyone, including himself.

“The baby’s dancing on every organ he can find,” you joke, having been certain for months now that you’re having another boy. You don’t really know how you know. You’re just completely certain.

He manages to crack a grin, something frequent that happens when he’s feeling the baby pound against his palm through your uterus. “Wants to dance, feelin’ a little left out in there.” He murmurs softly, looking up into your eyes.

“You’ve still got a little baking left to do in that oven, buddy,” you murmur, smoothing your hand over your belly and laughing when that only seems to illicit more activity. “Just let us have today, sweet boy. That’s all we ask.”

He hopes that this baby brings you the joy you had missed with your last child. He has worked tirelessly to make sure that your every need has been taken care of and you can have the least stressful pregnancy at the end of the world as possible.

“Are you happy we did this, love?” You ask, covering his hand with yours over your belly. Technically it was Joel’s idea to get married, telling you that he’s just old fashioned enough that if you were going to make a family together that he wanted you to be a family in that traditional way. You’d even gone through the trouble of making a set of formal adoption papers to say that Ellie was officially your daughter.

“Of course I am.” Even with all the nerves and worries that he holds on his shoulders, he doesn’t regret this. He knows you are safe and if something ever happens to him, Tommy and Ellie and all the citizens of Jackson will help you and protect you. “How about you, beautiful girl? You happy to be the second Mrs. Miller in town?”

“If we’re going by Victorian rules, I’m the Mrs. Miller and Maria is considered second. Perks of marrying the older brother.” It’s dumb, though, and you know it just comes from too many period dramas back in your teens. “Of course I’m happy, love. This is…honestly? It’s not the way my dreams happened when I was younger but all the boxes are perfectly checked. And you’re even better than any of the guys I imagined way back then.”

He huffs out a small laugh and wonders what kind of man you had originally thought about. “Well, I hope that it continues to be what you want. If it’s not, you give me hell and I’ll change what needs changing.”

“Same for you.” You acknowledge seriously, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Nothing is really ever perfect, so if something needs fixing, we fix it. Together.”

“Together.” Joel nods, smiling down at the bump and then up at you. Ellie’s laughter catches his attention and he watches as the girl who had brought him to Jackson dances with Dina, beaming at her girlfriend as she holds her close. The journey to this moment had been full of anger, heartbreak, tears and loss, but right now the future for Joel and his little family looks bright.

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

N2N: @missladym1981, @orcasoul

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Joel Miller #Joel Miller x you #Joel Miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #ptsd #assault survivor #dead dove #do not eat #dead dove do not eat

[strawberriemarswrites]

CHAPTER ONE

Chapter Summary: Bartolomeo is your neighbor and has it really bad for you. The kind of bad where your stuff is out of place and going missing. Pairing: Bartolomeo x F!Reader Rating: Mature, SFW chapter TW: Stalking, breaking and entering, obsessive behavior Ao3 Link: Chapter One (3,510 words)

You moved to the city about four months ago. Life had become stagnant and suffocating, especially after finishing college. You needed to get away; from overbearing parents, from your snobbish peers, from everyone. The only good connection you made in college was able to get you an archivist job in the heart of the city, and you snapped it right up. You applied for whatever apartments were in the area that you could afford, and went for the first one that became available.

That might’ve been your first mistake, really. For one thing, it was in a grittier part of town. It was also small, barely the size of two dorm rooms put together, and the neighbors below you were always yelling at each other or loudly fucking each other. But the building was clean, the rent was cheap, and the neighbor across the hall was friendly enough. A bit crass and blunt, but friendly.

His name was Bartolomeo. He was a mean-looking motherfucker by all accounts: wild green hair, septum piercing, tattoos — he was exactly the kind of person people from your hometown would have hated on appearance alone. He had an odd sort of overbite that showed his long canines like a vampire, except that all his teeth were equally sharp, and at first you’d been intimidated by both that and his impressive height. (After a few trips on the train to and from work, you noticed much stranger and much taller folks, and figured it must have just been a quirk of diverse city life).

Despite all appearances, however, Bartolomeo was nice. He held the elevator if he saw you running up, even if it was nearly shut. Some days you’d see him in the hall and he’d stop to chat for a while. One day you realized you two had been talking for almost thirty minutes, and only stopped because he’d gotten a call from his coworker asking him where the hell he was. Even running late, he still moved and talked with an aloof sort of air about him, like nothing could get to him. 

Early on, maybe a few weeks after moving in, you admitted to him that you’d never lived fully alone before, and wondered if maybe you made the right choice to live in such a rough part of town. Bartolomeo had laughed, like finding the neighborhood rough was something he’d never considered. You still remembered what he’d told you:

“People around here aren’t too big on hospitality, but they mind their own business. Don’t mess with them, they won’t mess with you.” He then smiled wide, showing off the rest of his uniquely sharp teeth. “Tell you what — since you’re so nervous about it, if anyone does mess with you, let me know. I’ll take care of ‘em for ya.”

Just the memory of how he had smiled that day brought a faint blush to your cheeks. Fine, you’d admit it: aside from being nice, Bartolomeo was also frustratingly attractive. His devil-may-care charm was hard not to be lured in by, and you couldn’t help but feel some of it rubbing off on you the more you got to chatting. He was loud and so were his friends, and the landlord rarely stuck around long if he stepped into the hallway. You definitely felt a little safer knowing he was around.

Two months ago, the troubles began.

It had been a day like any other. Average shift, average commute, about the only exciting part of the work day had been your coworker, Robin, inviting you for drinks on Friday. You came home and went to your bedroom to change into comfier clothes, but something was off. You couldn’t tell at first, but when you reached for the top drawer of your dresser to pull out some pajama pants — 

It was already open. 

Just slightly, with the edge of your pajama pants stuck in the drawer’s track. 

Now, you weren’t necessarily a meticulous person, but in general you kept your dresser pretty tidy, so it seemed odd to find it this way. Puzzled, you pulled out the pants and a loose t-shirt, frowning as you put them on. Had you been in a hurry that morning? It was possible, since you were struggling to remember what you had for breakfast. Hustling through your routine and being a bit careless with the drawer as a result wasn’t totally out of the question. You pushed down the knot in your stomach and moved on with your evening, the incident forgotten.

Or at least, it would have been forgotten, had there not been further incidents.

Another day, you had been unexpectedly called off. There had been a power outage on the block your workplace was on, and they hadn’t been able to get the emergency lights working. You spent the morning getting your laundry done and putting fresh bed sheets on the bed, and left to run extra errands. When you came back, exhausted but satisfied with your personal productivity, you went to jump into your bed for a quick nap before dinner.

You stopped just short literally jumping in when you found the comforter was already disheveled somehow. As if someone had been laying on top of it.

The frequency of problems seemed to only increase from there. You came home to find your door was unlocked, when you were nigh-obsessive on double-checking it before leaving. Your favorite t-shirt to sleep in had gone missing, and you had just put it in the hamper the night before. You had a journal in your nightstand that you didn’t write in terribly often, but with the strange things happening you felt it’d be nice to get it all documented — you opened it and found creases in a couple of the pages, like it had been clumsily closed and tossed back into the drawer.

You had convinced yourself that everything was fine. Maybe you lost your t-shirt at the laundromat. Maybe you thought you double-checked the door but you hadn’t. Maybe you were nodding off the last time you handled your journal. Maybe, maybe, maybe. At this point, the only thing you were sure of was that you were in denial that any of this was fine.

In hindsight, you really should have brought it up to Bartolomeo sooner than you did.

Drinks with Robin and a few other coworkers became a biweekly affair, lining up with payday. The weather was finally warming up after a particularly cold April, so you put on one of your frillier blouses that you were saving for such an occasion and a pair of jeans. Then you spent way too long looking for your favorite perfume. 

“Motherfucker!”

You slammed your palm against the wall in frustration. Of course. Why the fuck not? With all the other weird happenings, why wouldn’t that fall victim to the bullshit, too? Shaking the sting out of your hand, you got up from the bathroom floor and stormed off, snatching up your purse. You’d just have to hope no one noticed the blouse was a little stuffy-smelling from being put away for so long. Frustrated, you slammed the apartment door on your way out, triple-checking the lock and muttering curses the whole way.

“You good?”

Bartolomeo’s voice behind you made you jump and fumble your keys. With a deep sigh you crouched down and scooped them up, running a hand through your hair. “I’ll be fine. Just running late for payday drinks.”

“Oh yeah,” he said, and you saw him lean to one side in your peripherals. “That’s tonight. When are you guys gonna come out to my bar, huh?”

“When I’m more confident that they won’t mind the heavy metal music,” you said and stood upright, smiling and adding, “Which might be sooner than you think.”

As usual, Bartolomeo was the picture of nonchalance, leaning against his doorframe in a Cannibal Corpse t-shirt that had seen better days. He gave you a sort of half-smirk then nodded to your door. “You sure you’re okay? Sounded like you might’ve hurt yourself in there.”

“Yeah, just...” you sighed and shook your head, “kinda frustrated. I can’t find my good perfume.” You paused, remembering your conversation with him when you first moved in. “Hey, uh, Barto?”

He stood up slightly straighter at the nickname. “Yeah?”

“Can you, uh...” you paused again, twisting the strap on your purse. His suddenly intense stare made you blush and avert your eyes. “Would you mind keeping an eye on my apartment when I’m gone? Like, if you’re around, let me know if you hear or see anything?”

“Yeah, sure!” he answered with surprising eagerness, before he cleared his throat and quickly reverted to the casual tone. “I mean — can I ask why?”

You would have laughed at the outburst, had you not been trying to find the words to explain you thought someone was breaking into your apartment. “It’s just... I don’t know. Some of my stuff’s gone missing. Random things. And sometimes I come home and there’ll be something out of place, or a little off. Like... someone else has been there.”

“Oh, shit.” Bartolomeo pushed off the doorframe, the chain hanging from his belt clinking as he took a step closer. “How long’s this been goin’ on for?”

You continued avoiding his gaze. “Two months, maybe?”

“What?”

“I figured I was just forgetting things,” you said quickly. “It happens, I can be a little spacey. But... not like this. It feels different.” You finally looked at him again with a sheepish smile, your heart melting a bit at the worried look he had. “I probably should have mentioned something sooner. I’m sorry to freak you out like this.”

He shrugged, now suddenly avoiding your gaze. “At least you said somethin’ before it got any worse.”

A chill went down your spine. You didn’t want to think about what “worse” entailed.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I told ya you could come to me if anyone was messin’ with you.” He smiled, his fully-bared teeth all the more imposing as he punched one fist into the opposite palm. “I’ll keep an eye out for ya. If I catch anyone hangin’ around where they don’t belong, they’ll be shittin’ sideways for the rest of their life.”

Despite yourself, you laughed. All things considered, you felt lucky that you had such a cool neighbor.

Relief gave way to panic when your phone pinged; a reminder that you had somewhere to be. You cussed under your breath and started rushing toward the elevator, but not before turning and waving to Bartolomeo, shouting as you ran, “Thank you! I owe you one!”

“Don’t mention it!” he called and waved back, watching you turn the corner for the elevator. He leaned against the wall next to his door, shoving his hands in his pockets and listening for the soft ding of the elevator’s arrival. Once he was sure you were out of earshot, he stepped back into his apartment and shut the door, taking a deep breath.

“FUCK!”

Bartolomeo put both his hands over his face, yelling every curse word he knew. How could he have gotten so careless?! He knew he’d gotten way too comfortable with sneaking into your apartment, but two months? You’d been onto him for two months?! He groaned and dragged his hands down, wincing when one of his fingers tugged on his nose ring. No, that wasn’t right; you weren’t onto him, specifically. You only noticed the missing stuff, and whatever it was you meant by “something out of place”.

(He knew exactly what you meant by that, considering his favorite thing to do in your apartment was lie down on your bed and cuddle your pillows.)

Admittedly, part of him was relieved. You asked him for help! Sure, from the time you noticed to the time you said something had him a little concerned, and sure, it was his doing to begin with — but you weren’t aware of the second part! And, if you hadn’t said something, it would only have been a matter of time before he got caught in the act. He had time to correct that now. With you asking for help, it meant he’d be seeing you more, so he wouldn’t have to break into your apartment anymore, and he could act like it never happened!

(He was aware, on some level, that it wouldn’t be that simple. It wouldn’t be enough just to see you more. He had to be with you.)

Bartolomeo groaned again and sat down on the couch, head still in his hands. His heart had finally calmed down, having been racing just from talking to you. You were so cute, from how you fidgeted when you were nervous, to how your laugh sounded, to how you looked in that outfit (well, he thought you always looked nice in any outfit, but that was beside the point). And your eyes — what he wouldn’t give to be able to look into your eyes for more than a handful of seconds. He’d started a habit of looking at your nose when you two chatted, just to keep from turning his head away when your eyes were too much, but it only led to him fighting the insatiable urge to kiss it. He wanted to kiss your whole face, really, but if he started thinking about that, his heart rate was bound to pick up again.

All this to say, Bartolomeo had it bad for you. Real bad.

It started out innocently enough when you moved in across the hall. He thought you were cute from the start, and wanted to be nicer than usual; holding the door if he saw you coming, taking time to chat with you. But then the more he saw you, the more you two talked, the more he found himself looking forward to it. Before he knew it, he was listening for the elevator every time he could, just so he had a chance to talk to you again.

Even though it wasn’t hard to tell you lived alone, you admitting out loud that it was the first time about sent him into shock. Seriously? And in the shittiest neighborhoods you could have possibly ended up in? Something in his brain cranked up to eleven, and he was determined you needed someone looking out for you. Someone close by, who knew the area well, and had more than enough street smarts under his belt. Of course, that someone would be him. Why wouldn’t it be? And so, he came up with something to ease your worries (it was mostly true, in that at the very least the people in the building and running businesses around the neighborhood minded their own), and offered help. The relief on your face was well worth it.

Bartolomeo hadn’t intended for things to get this... intense, though.

The first time he’d broken in had been on impulse. See, the apartment building had older fire escapes, where the ladder wasn’t as compact as it really should be and about half of it hung down below the bottom landing. Most people still couldn’t reach it without significant effort, either by dragging over something to climb on or risking their neck by trying to parkour that shit.

Bartolomeo, however, was not most people. Standing at seven-foot-three, he just had to reach up and haul his own weight for a few rungs. He only did it to prove to himself that he could, in case you were ever in trouble and he needed to get in quickly without fighting with the front door.

Then, he wondered if it would take very long to get to the fourth floor, where both of you lived. He knew he wouldn’t have to worry about the tenants on the way up making a fuss; the unit on the second floor was used by the landlord for storage, and the people directly below you were always too busy arguing or fucking to notice anything.

And then it just. Happened. You weren’t home, and the window was so easy to open, and he had to know everything. How you lived, what you showered with, what sort of stuff did you keep. He had a general idea from talking to you, but he wanted, needed more.

The first time, Bartolomeo just sat on the windowsill, looking around and taking in the bedroom. You kept the floor clear, so if he felt brave enough to venture further in the room he wouldn’t have to worry about tripping and breaking something. You had a desk with a bookshelf built around it that was full of books and video games and figurines, and one of those desktop computers with the rainbow lights on the tower. Your bed was neatly made, adorned with overstuffed pillows, with a storage bench at the foot that was currently being commandeered by a collection of plushies dressed like pirates. The bed itself looked wide enough for two, though he might have to get a little creative to make it work with his taller height.

Not that. He was thinking about laying next to you. Or holding you close. Or watching you fall asleep.

(He absolutely was thinking those things. But in his bed, not yours. What could he say? He needed his California King. It wasn’t perfect, but he couldn’t afford one of the fancy custom beds that other city dwellers somehow got their hands on.)

Bartolomeo resolved that breaking in was fine, so long as he always took off his boots (couldn’t rightfully wear shoes into your apartment now, could he?) and didn’t touch anything. That way you’d never know. He stuck to that for the first handful of trips. Then one time he couldn’t resist picking up and fawning over your monkey plushie at the foot of the bed, so he decided it was okay to touch things, but he had to put them back exactly as he found them. Before he knew it, one day he was poking around the jewelry trays on your dresser, and...

He only had the top drawer open for a minute. Two, tops. Any longer and he would have gotten dizzy from how much blood was rushing downwards. He slammed it shut and made a beeline for the fire escape, nearly forgetting his boots in the process. He told himself he wouldn’t be looking in there without your permission, otherwise the temptation would be too great and he'd steal something he really shouldn’t.

(Which is why he eventually stole your shirt instead.)

Okay. So Bartolomeo let his little guilty pleasure get out of control. He just hadn’t realized how easily that happened. Now that you said something to him, he was going to ease off. He pushed up off the couch and sauntered to his room, putting his hands back in his pockets, flinching when one hand touched something he forgot he’d still had on his person. Frowning, he pulled the perfume bottle out, a slight twist in his stomach at the thought he’d frustrated you with his antics. He really hadn’t intended to keep it — honest. He only swiped it because the shirt under his pillow was starting to smell like the rest of his stuff. Not necessarily a bad thing, as it wasn’t like he was unclean (he was unkempt and dirty minded, even peed in the shower sometimes, but not unclean), but. The whole reason he took the shirt was because it smelled like you.

He turned the bottle over in his hands and sat on the edge of his bed. The label on it just said “Elegia” — why couldn’t the names of these things be simple? Fucking vanilla, or flowers, or whatever, so that he could put it back and get something similar. He supposed at least this way he could try to find another bottle online, so he could get it exact, but still... what a pain. Point being, if it had been easier to remember the name, he wouldn’t have had to take it.

...Okay, fine, Bartolomeo stole it thinking you wouldn’t notice. You had a few others, he figured it’d be fine.

With a sigh he reached under his pillows for your shirt, unable to keep from smiling when he saw it. It was light purple, with the words “Bite Me” on it in a black, drippy font. He saw you wear it on laundry day once; it took an immeasurable amount of self control not to take it as an invitation. He then uncapped the perfume and sighed again, his eyes rolling back just a bit. At least he guessed right; this was definitely the one you wore the most often. It smelled like vanilla and strawberries.

Like you.

Shaking out of his reverie, he sprayed the shirt and folded it back up under his pillows. It had been in his possession for too long for him to give it up without arousing suspicion, so he’d settle for returning the perfume.

While you were gone, of course.

#bartolomeo #bartolomeo one piece #bartolomeo the cannibal #bartolomeo x reader #bartolomeo x you #one piece x reader #reader insert #yandere!bartolomeo #yandere #i'll fucking digest you one kiss at a time #ifdyokaat #hehehehehe i'm posting this from work #the other three chapters are up on AO3 but i'll put them here too if there's interest

[skyfallslayer]

The Darkness In Me || Story 3: Kingpin & Daredevil

-Kingpin!Matt Murdock x Vigilante!Reader-

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

🖤 Series Summary: You were shocked to find out your childhood friend turned out to be the Kingpin of the underworld, but you had to put those thoughts aside to bring him down. You were Hell’s Kitchen vigilante, its protector. There's no valid reason not to stop him. However, when your hidden feelings for him start to surface once more, how will you be able to even think about bringing him down?

🖤 Story Summary: Your night trying to save a kid takes a dangerous turn. Now fighting to stay alive after a possible life threatening injury, you soon find yourself face-to-face with the man that runs this city’s underworld: The Kingpin. Aka… your childhood friend.

🖤 Date: 12/06/23

🖤 Rating: Mature

🖤 Word Count: 12, 842 (Damn o-0)

🖤 Warning: Blood; Gore; Talks of Child Abuse; Child Death(s); Child Manipulation; Mental Break; Murdering and Allusion to Murder; Non Consensual Touching(?) Looks like it but its not); Seductive Talk; Implied Seductive Manipulation; Slight Karedevil; Implied Frank/Karen: Past Killing of a Love One; Talks of Betrayal; Death of a Love One; Dark!Matt; Yeah, Matt gets a fucking warning in this one (I mean, he ain't the Kingpin for nothing); Russian & Japanese Via Google Translate (not super accurate, I apologize). READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

-Let me know if I missed anything-

🖤 A/N: Oh boy, this was tough but fun to write! Hopefully nothing is too overwhelming for y'all. Alrighty then… we're finally getting to Matt's POV of things, which I honestly think I enjoyed writing more than reader's (*le gasp*). But yeah, here's a bit of the flirty and charming Matt Murdock we all know and love with a dash of darkness. Enjoy!

There’s no fucking way this was real. Was the first thing you thought. Maybe it was the next one. Or the next one, or– Oh, geez. You really didn’t know what to think. 

Here you are thinking the whole time that he’s the same as you; That despite your rough childhoods, you both managed to put the nightmares aside and build the life you guys wanted. You both had your hopes and dreams, you both got the jobs you desired, you both made a friend that had your back. But now…

You don’t know when or where or how this even happened. You don’t know why he’s on this route. You don’t know why you just watched him kill a man for screwing up his ‘responsibility’. You don’t even know what to think of this situation, what to think of…

Him.

Matthew Murdock, Your childhood friend; The person you were starting to feel more for. The person that was none other than–

.

.

.

The King of Darkness himself.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

|| Four Days Ago || 

The doors slammed simultaneously, the both of you sighing as you laid back in the chair as your partner, Frank, rests his forehead against the steering wheel before lightly tapping it a few times. Your mornings had started off with a call of distress from an elderly man claiming that he had been robbed. Turns out, the poor man just had dementia. So after a talk with his son who stepped out to run an errand, they ended up back her with slight annoyance. 

Frank sighs again, finally bringing his head up. “I know he has health problems, but still… you think your stuff’s gone and you call 911?” 

“Yeah…” You rub your eyes, dark circles dusting them. “This is going to be a long day.”

“Of course it will be.” He starts the car, sitting up straighter. “Breakfast?”

“Please.” Like you could turn that down after not eating anything for a few hours straight.

He pulls away from the curb, driving in the direction of a local diner that he’s mentioned a few times. “So, Y/N… how are you adjusting to the move?” He said at his attempt at small talk (he didn’t speak much if he didn’t need to, you noticed, so I guess you could say this was a good sign).

“Me? I’m actually doing pretty good. I know how Hell’s Kitchen ticks so–” You shrugged. “Except for when some of the places I’ve been to have disappeared, I didn’t really need to adjust to anything.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You’ve been to Hell’s Kitchen before?”

Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. “Oh, shit. I guess I didn’t tell you. I was born here.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I lived here till I was eight.”

“Damn. So it’s been awhile.”

“Yep.”

“What made you move away in the first place?” Frank asked, making you pale. But he didn’t seem to notice since his eyes were on the road. “Y/N?”

“Uh, well…” You frown thinking about that day. You sigh, trying not to play with your hands like you were a kid. “My parents passed. Car accident, uh– Truck ran a red light and hit up straight on.”

“Oh, my god.” He begins, and you hold your hand up.

“Before you apologize for asking, don’t. You didn’t know.” 

“Yeah, but still.” He frowns worriedly. “You were… eight? That’s rough.”

“It was, but I had to accept it pretty quickly when I moved to California with my Aunt and Uncle.” You explain, feeling your heart clench at one of the names.

“Quickly?”

“My Aunt wasn’t the nicest woman.”

Frank scoffed, but not at you, but at everything else. “I got to hand it to you, Y/N, you turned out pretty well. To me, your story sounds like the makings of a villain’s origin.”

You chuckled. “So I’m not the only one to have that thought.” You reply, half joking as the car pulled into an open spot.

“I mean it though.” Frank says, turning the engine off. “You’re strong. Stronger than you think. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost my family like that.” He opens his door. “Alright. Enough depressing shit. Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

You snort. “What? Did you not eat before your shift last night?” 

“You think I know how to cook?” He smirks. “I leave the cooking to someone else.”

“I could see that.” You teased, following him inside.

“Well it’ll be dinner when our shifts are over. We should get burgers.”

“I wish I could. Unfortunately I got dinner plans with friends.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Oh, Y/N!” Foggy shouts as soon as he spots you, standing up and waving you over. “So glad you could make it.”

“Well thanks for the invite.” You said, with a smile, hoping the makeup you put on hid how tired you were (Seriously, why did you talk yourself into being a vigilante and a cop at the same time?).

“Y/N, this is Marci.” He said, gesturing to his lovely wife, who shakes your hand.

“Hello, Marci. It’s finally nice to meet you.” 

“Likewise.” Marci said as you guys took a seat. “I swear, he talks about you more than Matthew does.”

“Hey, she gives me all the juicy details my dear friend leaves out. That’s all.” Foggy defends, making her roll her eyes playfully.

You chuckle. “So, speaking of the devil. Where is he?”

He frowns, almost feeling like it was somehow his fault. “Unfortunately, poor Matty can’t make it tonight.”

“No?” You copy his expression. “How come?”

“Says he’s got something important to do.” He sighs dramatically. “I swear he’s got some weird night time hobby. He’s always disappearing.”

“Sounds like something he would do.” You smirk as the joke rolls off your tongue. “You think he’s a secret mob boss or something?”

“Honestly, I was thinking more like Batman, but wouldn’t be surprised with that either.” Foggy said with a shrug, before picking up his menu. “Now, let’s eat. I’m starving.”

“Never heard that one before.” Marci said, hiding her laugh.

“Hey.”

This was nice. You finally made some acquaintances that you could now call your friends. Although this dinner would be a bit bittersweet without Matt, you couldn’t complain, you were just glad you were here, living the moment.

However…

Deep down…

.

.

.

You still wonder what he’s doing.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Punch. Punch.

.

“Is something going on with you? You know you can always talk to me.” Foggy said, clasping his friendly hand onto his shoulder with a warm smile.

.

Punch. Punch.

.

“I thought you were supposed to help me.” Wilson Fisk said as he stared in disbelief from across the table; his hands were aching to strangle his lawyer as they stayed handcuffed to the metal flat top.

“But I am helping you.” Matt replies, his calm complexion suddenly morphed into something wicked that even made the ex-mob boss shiver in his seat. “The Defense is just doing a better job than me.”

.

Punch. Crack. Punch.

.

“You’ve done a wonderful job, Matthew.” The older woman, who happened to be the leader of assaination group that took him in, Alexandra Reid, smile so proudly at him as she grasps his shoulders. “You… are the most perfect soldier I’ve seen in a long time.” She chuckles. “Go spread chaos, my love.”

.

Punch. Crack. Pain. Whine. Punch.

.

“You fight well, kid.” His old and blind mentor said, making his heart skip with pride until… “But not well enough. You disappointment.”

.

Punch. Pain. Pain. Whine. Pain. Punch.

.

“Is Mama really gone?” Matt croaked as held his father’s hand, laying in bed as his head started to go numb from the medicine. But he didn’t need sight to know what expression his dad was making.

“Yeah, Matty. She is.”

.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch. Crack. Punch. Punch.

.

“You really are leaving?” He asked, watching his best friend’s face morph into hurt and sadness.

“Yeah. I am.” You could feel yourself starting to cry. “But I don’t want to.”

He grabs your hand, holding it tight. “Then don’t. I don’t want to lose you. Don’t go.”

“Matty, I don’t have a choice. I have to go.”

.

Matt lets out a low growl as keeps pounding his fists over and over into his ‘sparring’ partner. In the boxing ring he had the man backed into one of the corners, flat on his bottom as blood sprayed everywhere; small bone fragments starting to stick out of his bruised flesh too, But he didn’t care. This was just someone he could easily replace, so he picked up the speed, turning the dial full. Striking over, and over, and over, and over again. And again. And again. And again. And–

“If you don’t stop you’ll cripple him. Or worse.” The blond Karen Page, his advisor, said as she entered the room, making him pause for a second.

“Should I care?” Matt snipped, voice sounding like acid that could melt anything it touches.

Karen’s jaw clenched, but she kept her composure. “You should care, seeing that our number of men is declining. Fast.”

Matt groans and punches the man again, surely KO-ing him this time. “I turn my head away for one second, and my men just disappear in a blink of an fucking eye. They’re all ending up on police departments’ doors so fast, It’s not even safe enough to let them go without some suspicion. Fuck!” He kicks him in the shin, getting a crack. “It’s all because of that fucking asshole in a mask! Do you have any idea where he came from?”

“No, sir. I asked around. Nobody knows. And the reports I… ‘borrowed’ shows that there’s no reports of a mutant, or superpowered individual other than Ghost-Spider in the last ten years or so.”

Matt pauses, thinking. “You think they come from out of state?” 

“It’s a possibility.” Karen quickly notices his silence. “Someone comes to mind, sir?”

“No. I was over stepping.” He sighs, holding out his hand as he’s thrown a towel. “Did the delivery arrive smoothly like I asked?”

“It’s on its way. Should be there soon.”

“Good.” He throws the towel around his neck. “I need a shower, and send someone to bandage him.”

“Shall I tell the driver the penthouse or regular?”

Matt pauses again for another second. “Regular. I need to go to work tomorrow.”

“Very well then. I’ll call him now.” Karen bows his head. “Goodnight, Sir.”

“Likewise.” He says, while exiting the ring and into the locker room, still burning with rage that keeps on growing. 

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Stretching out in your new pajamas, you casually let yourself float around your apartment, excitement (or I guess pride) ran through your veins as you read the next article about your alter ego ‘Daredevil’. The local news lately has been flooded with nothing but articles about you. The next one made you grin, some twenty year old blogger was geeking out how fast you were in some reports and sightings.

You chuckle, lips curling in a smirk. “Damn right, I’m fast.” You didn’t have enhanced speed for nothing. Besides that, you were also cursed gifted with levitation, superhuman reflexes and stamina, and lastly, psionics; Something that you can manipulate in many different ways. It wasn’t as glorious as when your mother would do it, but you were trying.

I wonder how Uncle Pietro would have felt if he knew I had his speed. You frown, shaking your head when a gruesome memory crosses your mind.

Gosh. Why am I living so much in the past all of sudden? Why is everything flooding in quickly? You’ve been pretty good about not reliving your past over the years, but now… you can’t seem to get away from it.

I wonder why? You perk up when a knock comes from your door. You rotated slowly and gently landed on your bare feet, trekking across the room.

“Coming!” You call out, fixing your top before opening the door. You were met with a familiar sight, just like when you had moved in you saw the white vase at your feet filled with the same color and number of Roses. Looking around with caution again, you saw no one before picking it up, plucking the note off one of the stems. This time it just had a single word which was–

‘Sorry.’

You furrow your brows. “What the fuck?” Did whoever sent them know that you were down to your last rose? Did this person know that getting these was intriguing to you? Did they know that this was secretly creeping you out as well?

You scoffed out loud.

Hell…

Why the fuck were you hanging onto the roses if they were driving you crazy anyway?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt does his best the next day to hide the cuts on his hands, and bruises lingering on his body. Although he’s grown used to the smell of blood staining his flesh, he knows everyone else around him is not (And being a blind man certainly didn’t help his cause). He got dressed like usual, skipping the red suit for his normal, freshly pressed, black one. He slips on his shades, grabbing his cane and briefcase by the door before stepping outside; One of his men standing there just like always. Dressed in what looked like a ‘caretaker’ outfit, he puts on the bubbly personality he was instructed to do.

“Morning, Mr. Murdock.” 

“Morning, Anthony.” 

“Taxi’s here like you requested.” 

“Perfect.” Matt starts walking with his men a quarter step behind. Now since they’re out in public, it’s time to start speaking in code. “Still having dinner with the family later?”

“That’s the plan, but you know Brently and his boys are. They’re probably out adventuring around here, waiting to give me a scare.” His response made Matt mentally smile. 

His bodyguards were in their posts like they should be. “Well, we wouldn’t want that for you.” He plays along, feeling for the door handle before pushing it open to the outside world.

“Oh, and don’t forget, you have a doctor’s appointment tonight. A follow up.”

A meeting. He almost forgot about the meeting he set up weeks prior. “Ah, almost slipped my mind.” Matt admits, opening the taxi door to get in but—

The smell is what threw him off. This scent was completely different than what he was used to.

“Where ya heading to, sir?” The driver spoke, which was another unfamiliar thing. 

He frowns, hiding his worriedness. “Mr. Richards?”

“Mr. Richards’ sick. I’m taking his place today.”

And that makes Matt grow quiet, letting his other senses kick in. Other than the scent, he could hear the steady heartbeat slowly start to spike, the knuckles tightening their hold on the steering wheel, and the smell of ink lingering on the man’s neck. Now he’s realized what’s going on.

Sliding back outside, sensing his bodyguard looking at him with concern. “It’s a shame, Mr. Richards is sick.” Matt said, acting like he was scratching his neck but in reality was a signal. His bodyguard trails his eyes subtly inside, confirming what Matt thought the tattoo was. 

A logo for a rebel gang in the area. A real pain in his side, always gutting for him. I guess he should have seen this coming sooner.

“It is. I hope he feels better.” His bodyguard said, still with a smile. “Will you be taking a stroll instead?”

“I will.” Matt pushes away from the vehicle, heading in the direction he needed to go. “Just make sure you take out the trash for me.”

“Of course. I’ll see you later Mr. Murdock.”

Matt listened as his bodyguard shut the back door before getting in the passenger, and took out his side arm, politely telling him to drive. He wishes he could go back and laugh in his ‘kidnapper’s’ face. He’s been in this business long enough to know who he trusts and who he can gut. Even though it can be tiring…

The monster inside him sometimes enjoys the thrill of it all.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

He sighs when the knob doesn’t turn, and starts fishing around for his keys; His pocket was like a void sometimes. He brushes off your scent and footsteps as being part of his tired mind, so it still surprised him when you suddenly appeared next to him.

“Wow, look who’s late.” You say, with a cheeky look.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” He asked, pausing his actions (guess he should stop brushing the thought of you off).

“Thought I stopped by on my patrol of the neighbourhood. I brought bagels.” You hold the piping hot food up. “And if you’re wondering why the door’s still locked, Foggy had… lots to drink last night.”

He raises an eyebrow. “How hungover is he?”

“Well, not sure on that, but he did call me three times in the middle of the night to talk about the Yankees and how Darth Vader would be great at the sport.”

He chuckles. “Oh. So he’s that drunk.” He finally unlocks and opens the door. “I’ll make coffee.”

You smiled. “Sounds good to me.” 

He started the machine and you walked around again, being nosy as usual. The office still had its characteristics about it, enough to know what side was Matt’s and what side was Foggy.

God, I’ve spent too much time around them. You spotted a stack of papers nearby, printed on it is what looks like an ad and you let your curiosity get the best of you on this one.

“You going to start standing on street corners and pass these out?” You asked, before realizing you didn’t phrase it right. “Sorry. The fliers, I mean?”

He smiles. “I thought that’s what you meant. No, Foggy thought it’d be a good idea to get the word out more.”

“Is business not good or something?” You asked, worriedly. For being in a building like this you thought they had to be doing good. 

“Don’t worry, we are. But we want to branch out more. Marci’s job allows her to travel around New York City, so we’re going to have her put some up whenever she gets the chance.”

“Well that’s good.” You look back at it, admiring the work until something catches your eye. You noticed that each of the men had signed their names on the bottom right above the printed version of it, a nice warm idea to show how ‘cozy’ this place was. But that’s not what was stopping you; There was something… oddly familiar about Matt’s penmanship. 

Where have I–

“Coffee’s ready.” Matt announces, coming out from the kitchenette with two cups.

You smile, subconsciously folding the paper and tucking it away. “Thanks.” You take a sip, the cheap coffee actually tasting pretty good this time around. Then, you noticed something else about him, something more troubling as you jump into action. “You’re bleeding.” 

That catches him off guard. “What?”

“You’re bleeding.” You set your cup down before he could speak and roll up his sleeve. You noticed the deep gash on his forearm, not too big, just deep. You furrow your brows concernedly. “How’d you get this cut?”

Matt keeps his cool, the lie he tells rolls off his tongue with ease. “Curse of a blind man. Can’t see where I’m going.”

“Let me fix you up. Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Y/N, you don’t have to.”

“I want to. Where is it?”

“Y/N–”

“Don’t be a brat, Matty.” You slap him in the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “Where is it?”

Now he seems like he was trying to do the same thing. “Really? You’re bringing that name back?” He asked as you hum and nod. “Well… peaches, it’s under the sink.”

“Pfft.” You slap him again as you pass and mumble, “Can’t believe that name is still haunting me.” You grab the kit and examine his arm again, taking a better look. “Looks deep. I could stitch it up?”

“Nah, don’t bother. It’ll heal.” Matt says, trying to calm the nerves he could hear in your voice.

“But it’s deep. I really should.”

“Y/N, it’ll heal. Trust me. Just bandage it.” 

You comply against your better judgment, and start cleaning it up first. “You got some superpower I don’t know about?” You asked, ironically.

“Hmm, maybe, I don’t know.” He grins. “Wouldn’t little peaches like to know that.”

“Oh, my god. Stop.” You blush a bit. “You’re never going to let that go.”

“What? Like I said the last time, I think it’s adorable.”

“No, it’s not.” You shake your head, all embarrassed as you start applying the bandages. “What would you think if I started calling you ‘Bratty-Matty’ again?”

He chuckles, making your heart flutter. “You already did a few times.”

“In public.”

“Oh, well—”

“See? You’ll hate it.”

“No, not necessarily.”

You pause. “Huh?”

“Well, you know, in today’s environment it’s kind of–” His free hand tugs on your badge around your neck, getting closer. “Kinky.”

“Kinky?” You said, with a flush face and slightly intrigued (completely unaware that he could hear your heart racing with excitement). “I didn’t think little… Catholic Matthew Murdock would be into those things.”

His pulse skipped a beat, feeling your hand gently brush the injured one. “Well, we were just children so… we wouldn’t talk about adult stuff now, would we?”

“Oh, certainly not.” You feel his chest press against yours as he closes the gap. “You… like to talk about that stuff?”

“Only with the people I really admire.”

“Oh, yeah?” 

“Yeah.” His hand creeps up to the back of your neck, gently bracing you. 

You couldn’t help but moan a little from it, drawing a seductive smile from him. “Matty…”

“I kind of want to share that with you.” He whispers, trying to lock his lips to yours and–

Your walkie suddenly crackles, an order coming through.

You blush. “Sorry.” You reply, trying to unclip from your belt as he steps away to give you space.

“It’s okay.” He says, listening to you ask the operator to repeat and you to take it.

You sigh. “Geez, I’m sorry, Matt. I’ve got to go.”

“No, no. It’s okay. You’re still on duty.” 

“Okay. Thanks.” You start to leave, until you feel him get close to you again (and looking flustered once more).

Matt rubs the back of his neck like a nervous tick. “Hey, uh… would you like to… catch up some more? Just the two of us? Like… over dinner?”

Now it was your turn to be caught off guard. “Dinner?” You asked, making sure you heard that correctly. “Like uh… like a date?”

“I was thinking more of a play-date, maybe?” He replies with a half shrug.

“A play-date, huh?” You raise your eyebrow, grinning. “And where would this play-date partake?”

“Oh, I was thinking maybe that Sicilian place in that hotel off 5th?”

“That’s quite the restaurant. You sure?”

“My treat.”

“Alrighty then, hot shot. I’ll see you seven. I’ll wear something nice.”

“You could wear pajamas and I wouldn’t care.” He listens to you laugh a wave goodbye, standing in the doorframe of his office until he hears you no more. His expression fades away into something more serious now. “Brently.”

The office across the way, which was ‘up for lease’, opened up to one of his bodyguards who was awaiting a task. “You called, Boss?”

“Call Karen and tell her to move the meeting I have tonight to tomorrow.”

Brently’s face stays the same, but his tone shifts to concern. “Sir, would that be wise? I mean, they’ve been waiting weeks to have a word from you. You sure they won’t lash out?”

“They should know enough to not even try that. If not, handle it. Understood?”

“Understood.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Did Castle disappear again?” You asked an officer as you entered the office, noticing that he was not lounging around where his desk was. 

“Probably. I haven’t seen him all morning.”

“Figures.”

Seriously, where does he run off too? You should probably ask him, I mean he trusts you enough to tell you, right? You head into the women’s locker room, heading to the row in the back. You quickly examine to see if your lock has been tampered with before putting your bag inside. It’s kind of sad you had to watch you back here, a place you should feel the safest but you don’t. You lock it back up as you hear the door being opened, sounding like two officers coming inside, chatting.

“-surprised she’s not dead yet.”

“I know, right? I’m still amazed.”

You roll your eyes at the gossip and how they sounded like they were teenagers in high school. “Oh, boy…” You whisper, and start to leave, but–

“I wonder what Lieutenant Y/N did to the Boss for him to spare her so far.”

You froze, breath caught in your throat.

Wait, what? 

“I mean, how long has she been here with us? A month? Two?”

“That sounds about right.”

“I mean, she’s survived a lot longer than we expected. Remember Captain Trevor? He refused to follow the program and guess what? A day and a half later he was dead. Bullet embedded in his skull and they ruled it a suicide, but we all know what it is.”

“Yeah.” A sigh, and the next words were like a knife to your heart. “I feel bad for Castle. A hardened soldier like him still felt guilty about doing it. You could see it in his eyes.”

“Yeah. Poor Trevor too. He was young. Castle probably saw his own son in him.”

“Man, this sucks. How has the Lieutenant been living this long?”

“That’s what I’m saying. There’s got to be something to it.”

“I believe it.”

You continue to listen as they talk about something else before grabbing something out of their lockers and leaving. The whole time you had your hand cupped over your mouth, your face went pale. Frank had told you briefly about his ‘program’ kill but…

You didn’t think it would hit so deep. Now all you could think about now was–

.

.

.

Why were you still alive?

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You wore a cap sleeve red dress for your date, accompanied with black heels and a purse. You kept your makeup kind of light, and decided to style your hair long today with an exception of a clip for looks. Just as you finished putting some perfume on, you were surprised when you found Matt already at your door.

“Matty?” You said, taken back.

“The one and only.” Was his response, hold out his arm for you to take. “Ready to go?”

You knock yourself out of your trance (that of shock and how good he looked tonight) and lock the door. “Yeah, of course.” You take his arm and you both guide each other around down the apartment stairs.

“You smell good, by the way.” 

You blush. “Thanks.” Then you mentally slap yourself. “I just realize you can’t see what I’m wearing.”

“I can feel.” He fingers brush the fabric. “Silk?”

“I got it years ago when my precinct was doing this charity-gala event, and haven’t worn it since. It’s red by the way.”

“Ah. I always liked that color on you. Cherry?”

“Apple.” You answered as you get to the last step when the thought from earlier comes back. “Hey, how did you know where I lived?”

“You told me one time.” Matt replies, masking his panic pretty well (God, how did he forget that?).

“I did?” 

“Yeah.”

“Huh.” Maybe it was all those third shifts you’ve been doing lately. “You must have a better memory than I do, ‘cause I don’t.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The restaurant was… way more fancy than you thought it was going to be. I know Matt said he’d treat you but Jesus H. Christ this place was way above your pay grade. The materials they used and decorations you could see knew they were attached to triple digits, and when a menu doesn’t bother showing you the price for something, you knew you were out of your league.

Now I feel kind of guilty mooching off of him. You thought, knowing he was a lawyer but still. Could he really afford this?

“Here’s some glasses for the wine.” Your server said, gently placing them on the table. You quickly now noticed the the brace on his forearm and out curiosity, you asked,

“Your hand okay?” 

“Oh, this? Yeah I’m fine. Lucky actually. I was getting mugged the other day.” He says, and you suddenly realize why he looked so familiar. 

“That’s awful. Sorry to hear that.” Matt replies, as the waiter shrugs.

“Like I said, I was lucky. Thank god that vigilante was nearby. Saved my ass. Just wished I could have thanked him.” You couldn’t help but smile a little while Matt mumbled something incoherent as he continued tracing his fingers over the braille menu.

What’s up with him? You wondered, before tuning back into what your waiter was saying.

“-So, have we decided what we’re eating tonight?” He asked, and the two of you placed your orders before handing the menus back. “I’ll have that out for you shortly.”

“Still not sold on Daredevil?” You asked, pouring a glass of wine for the both of you. 

He thanks you before answering, “Like I said, I just want the right guy to pay.”

“And you think he’s not doing a good job?”

“Well the media thinks he is. I’m not so sure myself sometimes. But I’ll admit, I admire how persistent he is.”

You pause before tilting your head, confused. “Persistent? What do you mean by that?” You took note how he looked like a deer in a headlight just as your waiter came out with the appetizers. By then the subject was changed, something less ‘intense’ and more lighthearted. And by the time your main courses came the two of you were laughing and enjoying yourself, feeling like you two were kids again. 

“Oh, man. I can’t believe you guys actually did that.” You said, mixing around your carbonara with your fork. “How did you and Foggy not get expelled?”

“Good…” He chuckles. “Good question. We really should have, to be honest.”

You hum, staring at him for a minute before feeling a twinge of guilt. You wanted to ask him something that’s been bugging you for a while, and you were not sure if it was the appropriate time or not. You set your utensil down, nervously. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s… kind of a debbie-downer.”

“You know I’ll answer it, Y/N.” He says, reassuring. “Shoot.”

Backing out crosses your mind, but you managed to encourage yourself to finally ask, “Why did you stop writing letters to me?” And then you saw his expression again, one that you didn’t know how to place. Why was he so surprised you were asking him certain things tonight? 

You watch him set his own fork down, eternally debating with himself as he takes a deep breath.

“Listen… Y/N, I–”

The sound of something shattering caught both of your attentions, followed by hush voices before it got really loud.

“I know he’s in here! I recognized his cars outside! His people!” A man shouted, his thick accent lingering. A worker shouted at him to get back as he entered the dining hall, catching everyone’s eye now.

“What’s going on?” You said, missing the way the brunette clenches his fists (‘Cause unlike you, he knew exactly who this was).

“I know you’re in here! Тащи сюда свою задницу, ублюдок!” (*Get your ass over here, Bastard!)

“What the hell is babbling about?” You asked, recognizing it was Russian, but didn’t understand it. You watched him get pulled away by a few people, still shouting and kicking like a child throwing a fit. “What do you think that was all about?”

Matt’s hands twitched and ached in his lap, unbeknownst to you. “Um… I don’t–” But then his phone rings, this time you could see the bit of annoyance on his features as he pulls it out.

[‘Brently. Brently. Brently.’]

The automatic voice chimed over and over until he picked it up.

“Sorry. Let me take this.” He says, before you have any say. “Hello?” You watch him talk, the annoyance on his face seemed to progress that was starting to rub off on you. “Alright, then.” He hangs up with a sigh.

“Who’s Brently?” You asked, slightly irritated (and you would be more if he knew he was going to lie next).

“Uh, client. Um, he’s in some legal trouble, I, uh… gotta go bail him out.” Matt replies, scooting his chair back.

You blink in surprise. “What?” 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I gotta take responsibility for this.”

“To bail your client out?” He shakes his head, causing you more confusion. “Doesn’t he have a family? Why did you call you to bail him out?”

“Well, I’m… his lawyer, and he calls me so it falls on me.”

Now that just sounded like a load of bull to you. You frown. “So? Make him wait, or call Foggy then. We’re–”

“Foggy’s out with Marci. Don’t want to bother him.” Matt says, cutting you off.

“And we’re not… out? Together? Like him and his wife?”

“Y/N, I’m really sorry, I’ll make it up to you, but this is important.”

Now that got your blood boiling. “And this is not?” You asked, standing up yourself and walking away with him calling out your name like a broken record.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Matt was really surprised that you let him even open the taxi door for you, but he knew you weren’t looking his way with your arms cross and head down with rage (he honestly couldn’t fucking blame you for acting like this). He then walked around and told the driver your address, and told him to drive safe which he complied.

“You Mr. Richards son?” He asked in a low tone that you couldn’t hear.

“Yes, I am.”

“Is he doing better?”

“A little banged up, but he’s alright. Should be back in a few days, Sir.”

“Good.” Then he made a face that makes anyone’s skin crawl. ��You make sure nothing happens to her, or I’ll gut inside out and mail it to your dad as a ‘get well’ gift. Understood?”

The driver pales and nods before driving away. Matt then gets in a black tinted SUV, fuming in his seat as his bodyguard rolls the privacy screen down to talk.

“Page has Mr. Anatoly, Boss.” 

“Where are they heading?” He asked, hands aching again as he bounces his leg to confine his anger inside. 

“Usual spot. Shall I drive you over there?”

“Yes.” A grin. “Please.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Here’s a twenty.” You said, as the taxi pulled up to your apartment. “Just keep the change.”

“Uh, no need, uh… Your date paid for it.” The driver explained, waving it off.

You roll your eyes. “Of course he did.” You mumbled, getting out of the vehicle quickly as he bid you goodnight. Well…

That had to be one of the worst dates you’ve ever been on (and you’ve been on a lot). You threw your purse on the kitchen counter, kicking off your heels somewhere in the dark hall before sliding down to a sitting position against the wall. You get that he had an important client, but did he really have to take priority over him rather than spending a nice evening with you? Or better question… Why did he look like you caught off guard so many times tonight? 

What are you hiding, Matt? And that was a question that was burning like candle light.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Meanwhile, on the other side of town, Karen was sitting in the back of another SUV listening to how Anatoly, the Russian mob member, went on and on about something (to be frank, she was only half listening).

“You were right to reach out to us, although, since we’re being truthful, a call would have been more appropriate.” Karen explains, feeling slightly sorry about what was going to happen to this man.

“Look, I… I wanted to speak with him in person. Try to put the past behind us.” The Russian said, getting a hum which was right on cue for the vehicle to stop. “Why are we stopping?”

“They say the past is etched in stone, but it isn’t. It’s… smoke trapped in a closed room, swirling, changing. Buffeted by the passing of years and wishful thinking.” Karen starts poetically saying. “But even though our perception of it changes, one thing remains constant. The past can… never be completely erased. It lingers. Like the scent of burning wood. And it’s my job as his advisor to make sure everything just… lingers.”

Anatoly gives her a strange look, which Karen ignored to answer a call.

“Sir?” She said, listening closely. “Yes, passenger side.”

“Was that him?” The Russian asked, hopeful.

“Yes. He’d like to have a word with you.”

Anatoly nods and mumbles something in his native tongue seconds before the door flies wide open. To his shock, an angry Matt Murdock reaches inside and yanks him out, throwing him viciously on the ground. 

“You embarrassed me.” Matt snarls, even with his shades on you knew there was bloodlust in those blind pupils. “You fucking embarassed me infront of her!” And throws a punch.

They both exchange some hits, equally spilling some blood, however, at one point, Anatoly pulls out a knife, swinging it defensively. What thought could do some damage, he ends up seeing the Kingpin’s suit was barely touched by the blade.

Surprising him again, Matt had him pinned against the vehicle, breaking his wrist the weapon was in. “Мне бы хотелось, чтобы ты просто позвонил. Я бы дал тебе пропуск. Но нет…” He hisses, cradling the sides of the Russian’s head (*I wish you had just fucking called. I would have given you a pass. But no…). “Ты только что выкопал себе чертову могилу.” (*You just had dug your own fucking grave.)

He then starts banging his head on the side of the car a few times before tossing him back at the ground. Anatoly desperately tries to crawl to the car, begging Karen to help in Russian, but Matt’s advisor made no movements that she would at all. Instead, Matt drags Anatoly by his hair, laying him between the floor and the door…

Then slams it hard.

And over.

And over.

And over.

And over.

And over again.

As blood bathed the concrete with its glorious red color, Matt never stopped until his enemy’s head was completely taken off. 

Inhaling heavily, body still tense as Karen walks over carefully, offering her Boss her handkerchief.

“Tell Mr. Potter, I’ll need a new suit.” Matt said after a moment, and wiped his face clean.

Karen nods with a hum. “What about this?” She asked, gesturing to the body behind them.

“Keep it. Freeze it. Let his brother worry for a few days, and will pull the cards if we have to.”

“Which cards, if I may ask?” 

“Send it to Vladimir to show who really runs this city, or…”

.

.

.

“We blame it on Daredevil.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Alright, listen up. Last night, a father was driving home with his son until they were surrounded by unidentified men.” Your police chief said as you all were gathered around the office. You knew by how tense he was this was going to be some tough news to swallow. “Those men beat the poor dad and kidnapped the kid. Griffin Banks. Eight years old, he has curly brown hair and brown eyes; about 5 feet tall, 86 pounds, and was last seen wearing his little league uniform. Your jobs are to find him quickly and bring him home safe. Understood? – Great. Off you all go!”

And then all of you scattered like ants, hopefully to get some kind of lead, some kind of evidence of where he was but… 

“This shit’s going nowhere.” Frank complained, after a few hours of tiredly searching. You couldn’t blame him for complaining about this, because you too were feeling the same way.

If only I had heard about this last night when I was on the street. I could have been looking already. You went out as Daredevil last night to clear your head after that disastrous date and didn’t come across any crime or hear anything to spark your interest. You thought that was a good thing, you thought maybe the criminals finally understood that you weren’t leaving, but now you realize that the reason was entirely different. 

Did everyone in the underworld know about this kid? Was this an act of war or treason? You still weren’t a hundred percent sure how everything ran, but you did know that not everyone in the shadows worked or agreed with the Kingpin, so maybe this was a way to get back at him.

But why an innocent kid of all things? 

“Let’s try around the park again.” You said, heading back for the car.

“Again? Y/N we just came from there.” Frank said, as you shake your head.

“Maybe we missed something. I want to check.”

“Y/N. Hey, wait. Y/N–” He grabs you by the shoulder to stop you from entering his car. “Wait. Look, I know you want to catch this guy, I get it, but we can’t keep going back to the same place over and over again, it’s not doing us any good.”

“Yeah, but what if we’re missing something?” You asked, forming a look of desperation in your eyes that means so much more. So much more that he actually understands it.

His face softens. “Y/N, I know that look, you’ve been through this before haven’t you?”

You bite the inside of your cheek, breaking eye contact. “I just want him to be alright. I couldn’t save the last one.” You explain, voice quivering at the end.

“Hey, I get it. We all have a similar case every once and while, and it gets to us. I understand how you feel. However, if you keep running in circles, and getting inside your head, you’re not going to be able to do much. You’re going to make the same mistakes.”

“I know, but–”

“Go take a break. Go clear your head, then come back to the precinct.”

“Frank–”

“There are a hundred or so other officers looking for this kid. You can take a rest.”

“Frank–”

“Please.”

And how could you say ‘no’ when Frank reminded you of your old partner Max here? He was making the same thoughtful, worried expression that made you want to break and asked for a hug. 

You wanted to say ‘no’, to show them both that you could handle it, to show that you’ve grown but… You can’t.

You haven’t grown one bit since then.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Fancy seeing you here.” 

You take your face out of your hands, looking up from your spot in the waiting area. You decided on getting a quick bite before you head back. “Foggy?”

“Thought I get some grub myself.” He said, sitting down next to you, waiting as well. “Rough morning?”

I guess he could tell how messed up you felt. “You could say that.”

“Is it because of that missing kid?”

“Yeah.” You said, as you laid your head against the wall. “Guess word got around quickly.”

“You guys will find him.” He gives you a reassuring look. “I have faith.”

You scoffed. “You have more faith than I do.”

He looks proud of himself while replying, “Hey, It’s what I do best.” 

“What about you?” You cast him a glance. “Did you and Matt sort out that client issue?”

Foggy tilts his head, eyebrows scrunched together. “Issue? What issue?”

“The client issue.” You realize he didn’t know what you were talking about and continue trying to specify. “Matt and I went out last night but he cut it short; Told me he had to leave because of work. An issue with a client.”

“Issue with a client? I don’t recall a current issue with anybody.” Foggy says, honestly, as he scratches his head to think. “Are you sure that’s what he told you?”

“I’m dead serious.” You sit up straighter. “You seriously have no idea what I’m talking about?”

“No, I’m sorry, Y/N. I would know if we had an issue, I mean, we’re partners; Fifty-Fifty, you know? But if he comes into the office later I’ll ask him about it.”

You let his words sink as he excused himself to grab his food. You were… baffled. Completely fucking baffled. Did Matt really lie to you last night? And for what? He didn’t want to be there with you anymore? Did he think you were being nosy? Did he not like you in the way you thought he did? Whatever the reason was, it didn’t matter…

You were going to be pissed off anyway.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

“Take the bag off.” Matt snarls as he enters the freezer. His bodyguard complied, showing their enemy off for him to ‘see’. “If you’re smart you’ll make this quick. Where’s the kid you took?”

The Russian grinned, his teeth stained red with lips full of blisters. “Like hell I’ll tell you. Not until you agree to meet with Vladimir like you promised!”

“Where’s the kid?” He tried again, patience thinning out already.

“Fuck. Off. 3асранец.” (*Asshole)

Matt hums. “So not smart? Not a shocker.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who backed out at the last minute. I don’t know what was so important last night that you just had to miss it.”

“Well, all of us have lives, you know.”

He laughs. “A leech like you? Have a life? I find that hard to believe.” Another chuckle. “We know you so well that Vladimir had us on standby to take a kid.” And another. “We know you have a little soft spot for them.”

But Matt stays calm, eerily calm that could make anyone’s skin crawl. “Just Vladimir? So did his brother not have any say in that?”

“What?”

“You know, Anatoly paid me a visit last night. He actually interrupted my important event. If your bosses had such a… grand plan, how come one of them came looking for me?”

He scoffed under his breath, mumbling, “Цифры. Анатолий всегда был нетерпеливым.” (*Figures. Anatoly was always the impatient one.)

This makes Matt grinned. “Ah, so you guys have no idea? Do you?”

“Know what?”

“Что я тоже нетерпелив.” Matt says while snapping his fingers (*That I am also impatient). The meat hooks were shifted around until it was a headless body that appeared, but that didn’t shake the Russian too much until someone pulled out the body’s severed head from a box of ice. 

The man paled. “O Боже…” (*Oh God…)

“Понимаете?” Matt asked, the same expression staying (*You see?). “Мне плевать, какой у тебя статус. Ты меня злишь, я убью тебя.” (*I don’t care what status you are. You make me angry, I’ll kill you)

“You really are a monster.” He says, trying to keep it together.

“Yeah, I know. And with no regrets too. Now…” Matt’s face falls. “Where’s the kid?”

“Like I’d ever tell you after what you just did! 3асранец!” He snaps before spatting in his face. (*Asshole!)

Matt stays quiet, and calmly wipes the red spite from his face. “Otomo.” He calls out to the deepest part of the freezer, a person dressed in an all black ninja outfit. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him). The assassin nods, unsheathing his blade which was enough to get the Russian to wiggle in his restraints and start begging.

“W-Wait! Wait! Wait! What about– No. No–”

“Dispose the body anyway you can.” Matt orders as he turns to leave the cold, until…

“Ты хочешь остановить Сорвиголову, верно?!” (*You want to stop Daredevil right?!)

As soon as those words were spoken, the Kingpin stopped in his tracks. It was only until he turned back around, the Russian started laughing with hysteria and joy.

“I know you do. We all do.” He pants and swallows. “Этот парень... он поможет любому. И я гарантирую, что он захочет спасти ребенка. Пусть все это ускользнет…” (*This guy... he’ll help anyone. And I guarantee he’ll want to save the child. Let this all slide…) He chuckles with a painful smile. “Я-я упущу это, и вместе мы сможем поймать Сорвиголову. Разве это не было бы красиво?” (*I-I let this slide, and together, we could trap Daredevil. Wouldn’t that be beautiful?)

The man prayed that this would work, and his spirits seemed to be lifted when the King of Darkness smiled.

“No one else saw you take him?” Matt asked one of the guards who shook his head. “Huh. You know…” He shifted the weight on his cane. “I like that idea. It is beautiful. Slightly risky, but beautiful.” Then he flickered his blind gaze back to his assassin. “Kare o korose.” (*Kill him)

Then he spun on his heels again and left, the door shutting behind the screams that his sensitive ears could still hear. He maneuvered around the place, listening to his adivisor’s heels click around behind him at the pace he told her to as he finds a sink to clean his soured face.

“So you’re going forward with his suggestion?” Karen asked, hands behind her back, waiting.

“It’s a little far-fetched, but if Daredevil catches wind of the kid, we actually can kill two birds with one stone.” He said, running the very idea over and over in his head. “Any updates?”

“Your phone’s been blowing up. The personal one.”

“Calls?”

“Texts mostly.”

“Who’s it from?” He asked her, as she pulled it out of her pocket and reread it over.

“Foggy.” She replies, watching him stop drying his face.

“Is it important?”

“Might be.”

“Might be?”

“He wants to know what client issue you had last night, and says you should contact Y/N.” She frowns. “Apparently she’s pissed at you for leaving last night.” He mutters something under his breath that she didn’t hear before she decided to take a step forward. “Forgive me if I’m stepping over a line, and I know she’s a long time friend, but she’s also a cop; A cop that hasn’t been linked with your program yet, and has been begging for you to tell her yourself, which I know you won’t.”

“Your point is, Karen? Matt asked, throwing the towel aside.

“What if this works out like you hope, and you reveal to her that you’re the Kingpin, then what? You expect her to be okay with it? Expect her to accept it without a little blackmail on the line?”

A brief pause. “No.”

“Exactly. She’ll try to take your ass to court, better yet she’ll try to shoot you dead. I just don’t want a repeat of last time.”

And the haunting memory flashed before him. He didn’t think it could still hurt so much. “I appreciate your concern, but I’ll figure that out later. But what about you? How’s your task going?”

“Still growing strong like you asked.” Karen said as he cups her jaw with a smile. “He trusts me a lot.”

“Good. Good. I’m glad to hear that.” He says, while slowly tracing her red lips with his thumb. “Even if, and that’s a big if, Castle ever thinks that he’s out of my control, he’s not, not if you’re on him like a thorn in his side. Right?”

“Right.” 

He hums, and lightly ghosts her arm with his fingertips drawing a small sound from her. “Bet you’re imagining me as him. Hmm?” He pulls her head down closer, his lips right next to her ear. “Keep seducing Castle for me, okay? I don’t care if you catch any feelings either, as long as you know he’ll still be between my fingertips, then I’ll let that slide. Understood?”

She makes a sound again, eyes half lid. “Understood.”

“Good.” Then he gently bites the side of her lower lip, kitty licking the bruise before pulling away. “Tell the driver to bring the car around while I make a call.”

With a shaky breath she says, “Yes, sir.”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

The voicemail still buzzed in the back of your head as you came bursting through your window, barely having the mental strength to lock as you started shedding your DD suit as you walked towards your bathroom.

*Beep*

[ ‘Hey, Y/N. Look, I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be, but please just… Can you just call me back and just listen to what I have to say? Please? I just… I know I messed up. I’m sorry. Please call me back when you get the chance.’ ]

*Beep*

You kicked off the last pair of clothing as you crawled into the shower turning the hot water on, letting it run on your hunched over back with your forehead against the tiles.

These few days have sucked. First your date leaves you high and dry, then you find out he lied, and now you can’t even find a missing kid whether your Daredevil or Detective L/N. It…

It really hurts.

This task… hits… close to home.

You hold back the tears you felt, and hold back the urge to sob as you let your fingers trace the scar on the base of your neck, remembering how it got there. 

.

It was stupid mistake. 

You should have waited for your partner instead of running off on your own. 

You’re an idiot. You’re an idiot. You should have waited. You should have waited. You–

You honestly thought the universe would grant you this. To grant you a chance to catch the man you’ve been hunting for weeks; To catch the man that’s been stealing those kids and doing heinous things with them. You needed to catch him, you begged to catch him but…

No.

No you can’t.

As soon as you spotted him you ran like hell after him, ignoring as your partner Max yelled your name. You had blinders on, you’ll admit, but you don’t want that man to take another kid, to steal yet another kid’s future. No.

Not on your fucking watch. However–

He catches you by surprise, and suddenly your whole world is on its side as you free fall, hitting something sharp and painful on the way down. Now you’re laying on the ground, your spine feeling funny as you feel the pool of blood grow around your head, your ears ringing like they’re dying out.

Damn it. You thought. You really thought you had this one in the bag as you started to fade to black just as your partner’s voice broke out into a scream. A scream that you know was–

.

“Fuck!” You yelled, and swiped off all the bottles off the shelf and let it rattled to the tub floor (you know you probably just woke up your downstairs neighbour but you couldn’t care less). You sigh heavily, holding the sides of your head.

.

.

.

Tonight was going to be a long night for you.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Frank’s fingers glided over his phone for the millionth time this morning. You haven’t arrived at all this morning which was so not like you (Especially since you were so desperate to solve this case). He waited a few minutes before texting again:

[ Forget what precinct you work at or something? Where are you? ]

He just wants something from you, even if you respond with an emoji that he’ll have to decipher.

Come on, Y/N. At least tell me you’re staying home. One of his fears right now was you doing something drastic. After his conversation with you yesterday he decided to look up what was scaring you, and that was the case you took just a few years out of the academy, the same year you became a detective. A criminal that had been taunting you and your partner for months, and when you finally had him, the night ended with you getting a near death injury… and another kid getting killed.

Poor girl. I just wish you didn’t have to get demoted here. You’re too good for this place. His thoughts were interrupted when his phone finally dinged with a message from you.

[ Detective Stubborn: Ate something bad last night. Stomach’s killing me. ]

He sighs with relief, whether that was true or not, he’s just glad to know you’re away from here.

[ Feel better. ]

He just really, really hopes you stay home and clear your mind.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

But of course… why would you?

After planning all day and looking over very little evidence you had you decided to go out as soon as the sun started to set. You had to rough up a couple of street thugs to get some more solid evidence, but eventually it was enough for you to figure out where they took the boy.

The warehouse district.

You floated through one of the skyline landing without a sound, and the rest  of your mission honestly became a bit of a blur. Why? Well… as you rushed around through each warehouse undetected until you actually found the kid, your enemies, when they finally noticed you, didn’t seem very fond of you poking your nose in their business. Now you’re running like hell, a kid in your arms as you tried shielding him from every bullet that came your way. You tried levitating a few times when you found yourself up high and trying to cross a beam or a walkway, but you’ve never actually flown with someone in your arms so you’re out of practice.

Come on, Y/N. Remember bootcamp, Remember your first rescue mission, you know how to carry someone to safety. Which was true, but all those other times weren’t with you being pelted with bullets from an angry mob.

You felt the kid grip your outfit tighter making you say, “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything will be okay.” You just kept repeating that comfortingly as you made three small crates float and fly to knock the men out of your path. You kicked one of the guys in the head when he tried to get up, sprinting again. If you can just get to the edge of the building, you’ll be home free.

Trekking across a catwalk, you used your abilities to conjure up a quick shield to block before surging the power outwards, knocking the gunmen off his feet and over the railing, plummeting into the overly packed room of wooden crates from overseas (you’re not sure if you really wanted to know what the Russian mafia was importing). You fought a few more guys that dared to intervene, dared you to stop and surrender and be killed.

You could see the finish line, you could feel the boy relaxing your arms as he sees it too; You were finally going to complete the mission that’s been haunting you for so–

You heard something rattle and roll behind you.

You just had enough time to look at what it was before putting a shield up, the tiny thing exploding your whole world.

.

.

.

.

When you came back around, an excruciating pain ran through your body, a pain that was so unbearable that you didn’t want to move. The explosive you managed to shield took out the catwalk you were on and everything close by. You fell all the way down with debris dusting your face, still holding onto the kid before blacking out. Now… you laid on the floor, your head shaking as you urged yourself to look down, finding what was causing the pain.

 A metal bar was sticking out from your abdomen.

You somehow didn’t scream, maybe because you felt like you were going into shock, or maybe you were shouting and haven’t noticed yet.

Oh, god, I’ve– wait… the boy… Trying not to black out when you turn your head to look, and about a foot away was the boy who had bounced off your body during the fall. Your heart would have caught in your throat if he didn’t see his chest moving, but it was.

He’s alive. You sighed with relief, but here comes the tricky part. How are you going to move and save him with this pole in your stomach? You groaned loudly as you tried to move, arm reaching out in the attempt to at least shake him awake, trying to tell him to run if you’re truly stuck.

“Uh, Gr-Griffin… g-get up. W-Wake… up. Please…” You croaked, yet it doesn’t seem like the sleeping boy can hear you… but someone else could.

But as you shifted again, pain shooting out as the metal shifted with you, that’s when you noticed someone coming over in the corner of your eye. One of the Russians had come over, checking if you were still alive which was plain as day now. You watch his eyes go between you and the child for a few seconds before grinning like a maniac. 

Your eyes widened when you saw the gun in his hands. “No.” You whimpered with your fingertips glowing red, right as he shot a bullet into the kid’s head. “No!!!” You couldn’t believe what you had just witnessed. Would this have happened if it didn’t–

Then he pointed the weapon at you, out instinct or adrenaline your abilities shifted the gun towards him, firing his own bullet into his own skull.

His body dropped like it was made of bricks, the gun sliding inches away from him, causing you to nearly throw up in your mouth. I mean, you were a cop after all, so of course you’ve had to shoot a person or two but this was…

Messing with your fucking head.

You could hear shouting in the distance, which was enough for you to kick it high gear again and try to move. First things first was trying to get this damn bar out of your stomach. 

How the fuck– wait– let’s see– You concertrated the best you could as you redirected all the energy you had into yanking it out (doing it quickly probably was the best idea but you didn’t have much time). The bar rattled next to you, a pool of red oozing out as you rolled to your side feeling the blood rise to your throat. You quickly moved to all four, pulling your mask down to cough up the rest of the red. Sweating and heaving, you felt like you had no energy left to move, but you needed to. You could hear them coming.

As you got up to your feet, your knees nearly buckled but yourself forward where you noticed some stairs going up. Ripping and pushing your hood against your wound as you started to climb, hoping you weren’t leaving too much of a blood trail. 

Just as you got to the top you heard the voice grow near, and you managed to slide yourself into a place that no one could see from below. You just needed to stay hidden long enough for them to leave to make your escape (whenever that was). However, you never thought after searching for a few months that you would actually get to see the man they call ‘Kingpin’.

You peaked out watching two very different groups of people arrive. The Russians looked slightly surprised when the Underworld’s Ruler showed up, dressed in the red suit that you’ve heard about on the street. He walked like he owned the place, his black cane with gold trim was like the piece that tied his whole look together. He stopped with his back towards you, with many of his men standing around as, what you tell was, the Russian mob’s leader came face-to-face with Kingpin.

“3асранец. Now you show your face.” The leader, Vladimir snaps (*Asshole). 

“Well, seeing how this is my turf now, I have to show my face.” Kingpin said, making you perk up with confusion.

Why does his voice sound–? But your thought trails off as you watch Vladimir scoffing in disbelief.

“Your turf? You think we just… ‘mess up’ and you take over?”

“Well, I certainly don’t need to see that–” Matt points to the mess the explosion made. “You pretty much destroyed most of your cargo.”

Vladimir frowns, shifting his weight. “I’ll admit, I wish my men didn’t blow up half the warehouse. But I will give him a pass because he was trying to stop our rat.”

He raises an eyebrow. “A rat?”

“Yeah, a rat.” Vladimir smiles a little. “I had a feeling Daredevil would come for the kid. Why wouldn’t you if it makes you feel good?”

Matt clenches the top of his cane, keeping his composure from the neck up. “Daredevil was here?”

“Still here, I think.” The Russian points to the bloody puddle on the floor. “There’s a pipe laying next to a large amount of blood. In my experience, getting impaled you don’t get very far.”

His frown deepens, grip tightening. “And the kid? I smell two bodies with no heartbeats.” Then his whole aura changed into something darker, suffocating. “Tell me, are those your men?”

Vladimir paled, and tried to keep the discomfort off his face. He didn’t want to answer, even he knew staying silent wouldn’t be a good idea. “One of them.”

“One of them?” 

“Why do you care? It could have been Daredevil! She could have pulled the trigger!”

Matt didn’t say anything as he cast his blind gaze at the corpses before saying, “No. His scent is the only one on the gun and its bullets. So the kid’s death is in your hands.” But then he pauses, realizing something. “Wait. She?”

“Yes. My men said they saw Daredevil upclose, says the stature’s too small and not burly enough to be a man.” Vladimir replies, making Matt hum in response. “I guess something good did come out of this after all. We finally have more evidence of what we’re up against.”

And those words were his signature for his own death. 

The room got really cold, and energy felt suffocating. Everyone present began praying that they’ll be spared.

Matt grits his teeth, shaded eyes growing hungrier. “First you embarrassed me, now you insult me? I’m not even sure what to say anymore.” He says, snapping his fingers as his bodyguards shoved Vladimir to his knees, the end of a barrel being pressed in his face. The other Russians tried to make an advance, but they were outnumbered, making them slowly raise their hands over their heads.

“Давай, мужик.” Vladimir said, as Matt made a tsking news (*Come on, Man).

“Don’t ‘come on, man’ me. You brought this upon yourself. I mean–” Matt chuckled dryly, lowly, scary. “All you and your brother had to do was just wait the next day for our meeting. But no, you had to go out and throw a tantrum, you had to go out and kidnap a kid that has no meaning to any of us.”

Vladimir scoffs. “No meaning? It always has some meaning to you. Don’t act like you haven’t kidnapped someone’s kid before.”

“And I’m not. I know what I’ve done. But unlike you, when I kidnap someone there’s meaning to it, a purpose. Like when I… ‘picked up’ our DA’s lovely daughter after soccer practice, and said we were good friends. And like any child, she believed it.” Matt smiled just a little before it faded in an instant. “However… she never ended up like that.” He gestures to the body on the floor. “You get what I mean?”

The Russian growls. “3асранец.” (*Asshole)

“You can keep calling me an asshole all you want, but you know I’m right.” Matt sighs. “I just wish your brother was like you.”

Vladimir’s breath caught in his throat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing that your brother didn’t deserve. He did interrupt a very important date I really care about. I’m honestly surprised he found the restaurant I was in.”

Brother? Interrupted? Restaurant? You thought, wondering why this sounds so familiar. 

“What. Did. You. Do?!” Vladimir shouted, baring his teeth as the King of Darkness lips curled into a mischievous grin.

“Like I said, nothing he didn’t deserve.” Matt snaps his fingers again, this time summoning someone over who was holding up a duffle bag. He reaches inside and pulls the brother’s head out by his hair (You had to hold back from gasping loudly at the sight).

Vladimir nearly broke down on the spot. “Anatoly…”

“I really wished he had just called, I wouldn’t have resorted to such manners.” Another sigh. “I even had to lie to my date that I had to go bail him out.”

And that’s when your whole world collapsed.

No. You thought, shaking your head as everything started to click in place.

No. No. This has to be fake. I have to be sleeping. This can’t– But you can’t deny what was plain as day. You didn’t have to see his face to know it was him. I mean, he had a cane you thought was just for fashion, he had shades on that you thought was just part of his look, but you can’t deny that his voice is the same, you can’t deny that the missing pieces had formed a whole. 

But then his name rolled off your lips as you stared with disbelief.

“Matt…” You whispered, and as soon as you did, his head snapped your way. 

Tensing up and pushing yourself further into the shadows, you slapped your hand over your mouth as your heart pounded in your ears.

There’s no way he heard me… right? However, that couldn’t be a coincidence. There’s no way you just mutter his name and then look your way. It’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be true. But does that mean–

Can Matt… hear anything? Does he have abilities like me? You didn’t know what to think as he went back to his conversation with the Russian mob leader.

His perplexed expression changed back to the grin as he continued to taunt the man before him. “Now do you understand why people don’t cross me?”

“You’re a monster.” Vladimir replies, voice filled with venom. “You’re a fucking monster.” 

“I know.”

“You won’t get away with this. When people hear about what you’ve done, there’s no way the others are going to let this go.” The Russian clenched his fists. “My people, even if I’m gone, they’re not going to put up with this. Same with the Doctors, S.I.L.K., the Chinese, the Japanese–”

“The Japanese?” Matt said with a laugh. “Oh, they work for me.” And he almost laughed again when he saw his prey’s face pale again in shock. “Yeah. You see, they raised me. The Hand taught me everything I know, and helped me rise to this position.”

What does he mean he was raised by the Japanese? You managed to think after slowly coming over your shock. You knew his mother died in the accident that blinded him, and he mentioned his dad pasted as well, and–

Wait…

Matt never told me when his father died. Does that mean he was young enough to be taken in by someone? Someone like… You couldn’t even finish the sentence. You’ve heard bits and pieces about The Hand on the street. You knew they were hardcore, highly skilled and basically an assassination group; People you didn’t want to mess with.

So does that make Matt… an assassin? 

“You really have power in everything.” Vladimir said, head hanging low.

“Pretty much.” Matt said, proudly.

“Then I guess… I’ve got nothing else to do than follow you.” 

“Follow me?” The blind man scoffed. “Oh, Vladimir, you lost your chance at that. You’ve already proven to me that you have no loyalty, that you only think about yourself.”

“Mr. Murdock–”

Matt cut him off by holding his hand up, and staying quiet for just a moment. “I really wanted to like you Vladimir, that hard head of yours I could have used for so many things but…” He sighs and stays silent again. 

.

.

.

And then you watch him plunge his sword into the side of Vladimir’s head.

Your pupils shrunk and you felt all the air get sucked out of you. You–

Matt slowly pulls his weapon out, letting his bodyguards drop the body to the floor. He just stares again, almost like he was basking in what he just did.

Oh, my god… he just… Then you watched him sheath the blade back into his cane and says,

“Kill the rest.” 

And that’s when you knew you had to move. Using all the strength you had left to bolt away as Matt’s men started firing at whoever was left of the Russian mob.

You’re not sure how you’re even going to get home, but fuck…

.

.

.

There’s no way in hell you’re going to stick around here.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

You practically crawled to the bathroom when you got back to the apartment, black spots started dancing as you ripped open the first aid kit. You shake off your top, turning the shower on for a few seconds to remove the excess blood.

.

“Matty… would you still be friends with me if I was a freak?” You asked him as the two of you sat on the fire escape of his apartment. The question has been gnawing at you for quite some time, and you weren’t sure how to express it so.

“A freak?” Matt said, confused. “Why would you ask me that?”

.

The pole didn’t go all the way through, which was good, but damn… that was going to leave a nasty scar when it did heal. You had to bite on a rolled up magazine as you started sewing up the wound, the pain keeping you awake.

.

“Well…” You nervously shifted your weight, looking in his direction. “What if I told you… that my parents are special?”

“Special? In what way?

.

You placed the gauze over the wound, then bandaging it up. You then cursed as you pushed yourself to a stand, running your blood soaked hands under the water, watching it swirl down the drain.

.

“Like… what if they had abilities? Like superheroes?” 

“Like superheroes?” Matt perked up a little. “Do they?”

“It’s just a question.” You shrug and look away. “Would you be okay if I was a freak too?” 

.

Your eyes shifted from the bathroom to your kitchen, remembering something. You flicked off the faucet, wobbly walking towards the very thing that’s been peaking your curiosity for the longest time.

The vase of roses.

With a shaky hand you grabbed the note, opening up to reread the one sentence on the paper.

.

“I wouldn’t mind.” Matt said, with a smile. “I’d think it’d be cool.” 

You blink in surprise. “Really?”

“Yeah. You would be like an actual superhero. Like the ones you see in the comic books. I’ll admit though, I’d be kind of jealous if you did.”

“How come?”

.

Now you were back in your room, rummaging around for the outfit you wore to work the other day. You know you still have it, you have to. You needed the chance to compare the two.

.

“Because–” Now it was his turn to shift in his seat. “My best friend has powers and I don’t. Everyone would be in awe with you but with me? Nothing.”

You frown at his words. “Don’t say that. I think it would be nice to have someone different than me.” Then smiles. “Keeps me from not going completely crazy.”

He chuckles. “Well it would be my job to keep you from going nuts. I wouldn’t want you to be the villain of the story.”

You smirk a little at that, scooting closer. “Is that a promise?”

.

Your (Y/E/C) eyes widened with disbelief for the millionth time tonight. In one hand you had the note from the vase, the other? It was the ad from Nelson and Murdock, the ones they were going to pass out, spread the word. 

The one that had their penmanship on the very bottom.

A perfect–

Perfect–

Match.

.

You held out your pinky. “Promise me. Promise me that as long as we’re together, we won’t become villains in this world. Will always be each other’s light.”

He stays quiet for a second, like he’s thinking. Then he raises an eyebrow, saying, “Superpowered or not?”

“Superpowered or not.”

“Okay. Deal.” He interlocks his pinky with yours. “I promise I won’t do anything crazy while you’re here.”

“Thank you, Matty. I’ll hold you to it.”

.

You snagged everything that was off the counter, marching over to the window, ripping it open. Without even looking you just tossed it out, letting it drop and shattered on the dumpster lid below.

You just couldn’t believe it as you sank to your knees.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just couldn’t believe it.

You just…

.

.

.

.

Couldn’t believe your whole life was in a lie.

(TBC)

-Taglist Is Open-

@utterlynuts @etanordoesbullsh1t @mattmurdocksstarlight @l3xiluve @lunaticgurly @margoo0 @swift-enchanted @athenniene

@up-in-space-reading @itwasthereaminuteago @lazyxsquirrel @yeonalie @scoliobean @kayden666

@nkmblackhyuuga @nk1023 @queenofnigthdarkness

#skyfallwrites #my fanfic writing #marvel fanfiction #mcu daredevil #daredevil #kingpin #kingpin matt murdock #matt murderdock #dark matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x vigilante reader #matt murdock smut #matt murdock x female reader #dark fic #marvel smut #mike murdock #earth 65 #spider-gwen comics #maximoff reader #matt murdock x maximoff reader #enhanced reader #Matt Murdock x enhanced reader

[slytherheign]

WORTH THE RISK | tasm!peter parker

PART 1/5 OF WORTH: THE SERIES.

PAIRING: tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 3.3k

SUMMARY: there's a new threat in town and spider-man has found himself falling for his roommate. after what happened with gwen, he must decide if it's worth the risk yet again.

WARNINGS: depictions of death, depression, grieving, cursing, and canon-typical injuries. let me know if i missed any warnings. [⚠︎︎RATING: 17+]

AUTHOR'S NOTE: some characters may be ooc. there are a lot of flashbacks-current time switching. you can criticize my writing, but please be nice.

DESTINATION: Angst Avenue | GO TO SERIES MASTERLIST or GO BACK TO THE STATION.

There was trouble looming around town. Peter Parker felt it. He felt it by the way the hair on his body stood up. He felt it by the way the nerves in his body alerted him. He felt it by the way the wind changed its demeanor as he swung through his beloved New York City.

Aside from the common thefts committed by robbers and the fights brought upon by different gangs, crimes in New York City were almost quiet to him. For a couple of years, there was no big threat that needed Spider-Man’s help.

As the friendly neighborhood hero, of course, he still offered his assistance but the police assured him that they can handle them on their own. He appreciated the thought but his love for the city weighed more than the thought of a much-needed rest. He did not like what the police had insisted. Him not saving New York City? Nope. Not gonna happen. Never.

He could still remember the conversation clearly.

"It's not gonna happen. I'm gonna help you," he told them. To which an officer named Carlos replied: "As much as we appreciate you and your assistance, please let us do our job. The people now trust you more than us, which makes a lot of sense because you have saved so many of us, but our reputation for being able of saving them has got to be back on track."

"So what, you don't want me anymore? You know you can't stop me from helping people, right?"

The middle-aged police nodded. "But you gotta understand, Spidey, what's happening now is that the people call you for help first instead of us. If you keep responding to those calls, there may not be a job left for us anymore. Who are we going to save if you already saved them first?"

Peter understood, as he always did. But the mere thought of not doing anything for the city—his city—got him feeling uneasy.

"But–" he started to reason with him but another officer, this time a red-haired british woman named Charlene, raised her hand to stop him from talking any further.

"How about this..." Charlene started. "In the meantime, put your suit down and rest from all of this crime-fighting stuff and let us handle it. And then when there comes a big threat that needs your help, the first thing we'll do is call you."

Carlos agreed, nodding as he went beside Charlene to hold her hand. So they're a married couple, Peter thought.

"Well, can I at least do a little saving and patrol the city every once in a while?" he asked.

The police couple looked at each other before looking back at him. "Fine," Carlos replied. "We can work with that," Charlene continued.

Peter smiled. "Okay cool. We have a deal then."

It has been two years and what Peter has named the "big threat, big help" call has not been made. Which he thought should be a good thing, right? Because it would mean that his beloved city was safe from being destroyed any sooner.

However, as he currently swung through the city for what he deemed was just a little night patrol, something was off and he knew it. He wasn't even finished patrolling the entire city. There were still a lot of places he has not yet checked tonight. He smelled trouble and the ringing from his phone with the police's name as the caller confirmed it.

He stopped at a rooftop of a random building before he answered. "What's going on?" he asked.

"We need your help," Carlos stated, his latino accent laced with fear. "There's been reports of multiple houses being broken into for the past 15 minutes. 1 person has already died and 6 are badly injured and on their way to the hospital. Given the short amount of time and the fact that the houses are beside each other, we believe they all have the same culprit."

"Do you know what this person looks like?"

"The victims are too traumatized to speak, we couldn't get any information out of them. We're now looking at the city cameras–holy shit."

"What?"

"This isn't just a normal person, Spidey. He's green and he looks like a scorpion."

Peter knew he should think about the injured people.

Peter knew he should think about the poor person who has unfortunately died.

Peter knew he should think about the green scorpion-looking criminal.

But the first person he thought about, was you.

The past couple of years for Peter were eventful, to say the least.

After all, after Gwen's tragic death, nothing was the same anymore.

Was it a bad thing or a good thing? Maybe both? He didn't know.

First was the sleepless nights. Every single time he would close his eyes, images of Gwen free falling to her demise plagued his thoughts. It terrified him—how Gwen's eyes reflected acceptance as she looked at him for the last time. Even in her last moments, she understood... and she accepted. It scared him how she embraced death like a long-lost family member.

Peter knew Gwen didn't want him to blame himself. But he couldn't help it, could he? He was given these abilities... to help people, to heal people, to save people... and yet he couldn't save the person he treasured the most. He couldn't save her.

And even then, at the moments where rest finally found its way to his eyes and body, it would be tormented with nightmares. Rest, for him, was never an option.

Second was the loss of interest. Things that brought him joy before and hobbies that he used to enjoy, he didn't care about them anymore. He was simply uninterested.

Sure, Aunt May had been there for him every step of the way, but even she cannot bring him back to feel anymore. He appreciated his aunt for even trying.

Now came the third and hardest part. As if the pain he was in wasn't enough for the gods above to take pity on him—two months after Gwen's demise, Aunt May passed away.

Peter felt horrible. His last two months with her were him being unresponsive. Aunt May had reached out for him but he didn't meet her halfway. She tried so hard to help him, and in some ways she did, but he was too caught up in his own hurt and pain that it did not occur to him that she was also hurting for her nephew. For him.

Now instead of visiting a grave, he had to visit two.

He was in ruins. Everyone he loved the most was gone and he was left to himself. He had no faith. No hope. No everything. None.

Until you came.

He was visiting Gwen for her first death anniversary. Peter couldn't believe it—one whole year since he lost her. Where did time even go?

It was just like the usual, he would sit in front of her grave, talking to her as if she was still living. He would update her on what was happening in his life—a common thing he would do to his aunt's grave as well.

That was when he heard you loudly sniffing from behind his back. Initially, he planned to ignore it to give you some privacy. But the sniffing got louder and your breathing got even slower. He decided to cut his conversation short with Gwen's tombstone, he could do that any other day. You clearly needed comfort, and while he was not obliged to give it to you, something inside him screamed that he should. He sat up from his position and made his way to you.

What he saw was a heartbreaking sight. You sat across the stone, arms desperately clinging to your knees for comfort. You were aware of the new presence beside you, but you couldn't stop crying. It was all just too much. You had just lost your father last year, and now just a month ago, you lost your mother too. You had no siblings or pets, and your friends were on the other side of the world, too busy to visit or even check up on you. You were alone.

Peter crouched down beside you, trying to meet your eyes. And when he finally did, his heart shattered into pieces. You caught his gaze. "I–I'm sorry–" you sniffed. "It's umm... it's my mom's birthday," you pointed at the tombstone in front of you. "Sh–she died a month ago."

That was it. Your broken voice pulled a string in his heart that made him soft for you. He didn't know what gave him the courage, but he sat down from his position beside you and hugged you tightly.

You were surprised at first but appreciated the comfort. The last time someone hugged you was by your mother on her death bed. For the last month, you lasted on your own. No human interactions except the little greetings you exchanged with the people you passed on the street and the people at work. There were only four places your world consisted of: your house, your workplace, the cemetery, and the grocery store.

You clung to his body as if your life depended on it, and maybe in some ways, it actually did. "It's going to be okay," he whispered. "We're gonna get through this together."

We. Together.

Funny how you just met this man and he cared more for you than the people you called your friends. There was something about him that radiated comfort and protection. You knew you should be embarrassed by yourself, you were a broken mess. You probably looked crazy with your hair all tangled and your face streaked with tears that you were sure just messed up his jacket. But you didn't care, you needed him. And unbeknownst to both of you, he needed you just the same.

That night ended with Peter bringing you to his favorite coffee shop. He treated your coffee as you talked about your life and he talked about his.

You learned that it was his past girlfriend who he was visiting at the cemetery. He told you that it was her first death anniversary to which you replied: "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize," he raised the palm of his hand playfully. "It's not like you killed her or anything." he joked.

You laughed with him before moving on to a new topic. You told him about your parents, how your father died from a car crash years ago and how your mother died because of cancer. Was it too early to tell him the heaviest life issues you mostly kept to yourself? You didn't know. But you were at ease when you were in his presence. Maybe that's why you couldn't stop talking the moment he started the conversation.

He told you about his aunt as well. Who died so suddenly after merely two months of his girlfriend's passing. You were so easy to talk to. He almost told you everything about him. Almost. There was a reason why he left out the reason behind Gwen's death—you didn't need to know about the double life he's living. So he left out everything that related to the web-slinging hero.

You were so caught up with each other that it didn't even occur to both of you that two hours have passed until a staff went to your table to inform you that the shop was closing.

You and Peter left the shop afterwards. He insisted to walk you home since it was pretty late at night and he knew just how the night wasn't safe for people, especially for women. You agreed, mentioning that the house was actually your family's but since your parents had died, it was all yours now.

"We're here," you informed him. "So... uh–" you looked down as you played with your fingers. Peter looked at you the entire time.

You met his eyes. "Thank you. For everything. I–I hope this isn't the last time we'll see each other."

"Of course," he smiled.

You hugged him. How the hell did that even happen? You had no idea. You practically just ran to his arms and hugged him. Peter didn't mind though. And if he was being honest, he enjoyed hugging you as well. "See you soon," he added. He didn't leave until you were inside and waved at him from the window.

Maybe this is why the world brought the two of you together. Two broken people who needed healing, ready to heal each other.

His visits became a weekly thing. Every Saturday, he would visit you and you would go to his—and now your own as well—favorite coffee shop. One time you mentioned that you were thinking of moving to a new apartment, the memories that came with your family house were becoming too much to bear. You needed time away from it in order to fully move on. Besides, it was getting lonely. Having a roommate would also be nice. When he asked you what would happen to your house, you told him that you would still visit it once in a while to clean and maintain it.

Peter, like the absolute genius that he was, had an idea.

"What if you move in with me?" he mused.

Your eyes widened by the sudden offer. You looked at him as he stared at you waiting for your answer.

"Be roommates with me?" he asked once again.

You thought hard about the idea.

Peter needed a new start and you needed company. This was shooting two birds with one stone. There was no need for choosing. The choice was already obvious.

You smirked, putting your hand out for him to shake. "Deal."

Before Peter took his way to the police station, he made sure to swing by the apartment the two of you shared to check on you.

You were on the couch sleeping while The Notebook was paused on the television. Tonight was movie night. A tradition you both made to follow every Thursday. An hour ago, he was just cuddling you while watching the film. It was peaceful...

Until he sensed something off.

He couldn't just leave you there, but he also couldn't ignore the nagging trouble he was sensing.

He had to at least swing by the city and check.

He didn't know what to do.

He had to find an excuse, and he had to do it quick.

Luckily, you did it for him.

"You know, for some reason, I'm really craving for some donuts right now," you blurted out.

Peter immediately agreed. "You know what? Let me buy some. I promise I'll be back before you know it," he stood up quickly. "And hey–" he jokingly pointed a finger. "Don't you dare finish the movie without me."

"Noted," you chuckled, grabbing the remote and pausing the film.

He went back to his bedroom to get his backpack before leaving the apartment, smiling as he closed the door.

You had no idea what he needed his backpack for when he was just going to buy some donuts, but you paid it no mind. He probably just wasn't used to getting out without the bag on his back.

Peter, clad in his Spider-Man suit, observed you from afar.

You looked so peaceful in contrast to the chaos that was currently happening outside. And even in moments of deep slumber, you still looked so beautiful.

He realized you fell asleep waiting on him.

He had promised to be back soon. Yet another promise he had to break.

He felt guilty, but it must be done.

There was no time, Peter reminded himself. And so he continued his way to the police station with one thing on his mind.

He needed to protect you.

"Oh thank God, you're here," Charlene breathed in relief. "Here–look at this," she gestured for him to follow her into the room where the city cameras resided. She pointed at one of the screens. "This is what he looks like."

"Do we know where he is now? I could swing through the city and find him." Peter insisted.

"No, we need you here," she replied.

"No offense, but I don't think I should be in here right now. He could still be out there."

"That's the thing–he's gone," Charlene admitted. She nodded at Carlos who just entered the room.

"What?"

"We already sent all our teams. They say he's gone."

"It's like he just disappeared," Carlos commented.

Peter thought hard about what was happening. "No," he gritted his teeth. "He wanted attention. My attention. And he wreaked havoc just to get it."

"But why?" Carlos asked.

Charlene answered for him. "To create chaos. Come to think of it, for the last two years, there was no big threat to the city. Even Spider-Man..." she glanced at Peter. "Laid low."

Peter agreed. "Some people hate the quiet. And they would do everything to bring back the noise and destruction again."

"What will we do now?" Charlene looked at him, waiting for an order as more officers came into the room.

"I'll do patrols as I always do, but this time every day and night. You check the cameras at all times and install some more around the city. Continue sending your teams to patrol as well. Inform the medical facilities—tell them to prepare for a possible surge of injured people. Don't lack on communication, inform and update each other, and..."

Peter looked around the people in the room. "If you see anything suspicious, you know how to call me."

Peter left without another word. The situation was more dangerous than he thought and he planned to get to you as fast as possible. He made a promise to himself that he will keep you safe no matter what it takes.

He found himself knocking on your shared apartment’s window. He saw you slowly stand up from the couch, lazily wiping the sleep off of yourself.

You were confused for a moment, wondering who could be knocking at your apartment at this time—it was coming from the window too.

Surprised would be an understatement for your reaction when you opened up the curtains and saw the Spider-Man in your window. With wide eyes and an open mouth you had to close, you opened the window and let the hero inside.

"Wha—" you stuttered.

"Watch the news," he ordered.

You were confused but nonetheless followed his order. He sounded serious. And when Spider-Man was giving you orders in your living room, you gotta follow them.

"Just an hour ago, a green scorpion-looking identity was reported breaking into multiple houses causing a casualty and 6 badly injured people. We have no report as to where he is right now but the police and Spider-Man are currently in the process of capturing the criminal. Be careful out there, and wish our protectors luck," the reporter informed.

You were fully awake at this point. Not knowing what to do, you looked over the hero who was already looking at you.

Suddenly, you remembered Peter. Surely, it wouldn't take that long to buy some donuts? He was not yet back. And with a killer on the loose, you were getting more worried each passing second.

"Oh god, m-my friend–he's still out there," you started shaking and pacing.

"Peter," Spider-Man replied. You immediately stopped pacing and looked at him so fast you thought it would break your neck. "You know him? Peter?" you asked with hope.

He noticed the worry that hugged your face. He wanted to hug you, tell you that he's Peter and that he loves you when he remembered a promise he made.

To protect you.

Two graves were enough.

Trouble was attached to him. Wherever he went, it followed him.

No matter what it takes.

It was now or never.

So he did what he thought was best to protect you.

"Peter Parker is dead."

He pretended he was dead.

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm!peter parker #tasm peter x reader #tasm peter parker x reader #tasm peter x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #tasm fanfiction #peter parker angst #tasm peter parker angst #spiderman fanfiction #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman angst #andrew garfield!spiderman #andrew garfield!peter parker x reader #andrew garfield!peter parker x you #andrew garfield!peter parker imagine #andrew garfield!spiderman x reader #spiderman #peter parker #spider-man #spider man #andrew garfield #worth: the series #rheignwrites: angst avenue

[writer-darling]

Are You Ever Dreaming of Me?

Chapter 9: The Great War | Read Chapter 8: Out of the Woods!

I NEVER USE Y/N OR ANYTHING LIKE IT THANK YOU SO MUCH :)

Rating: M - Mature ((for now, but there WILL BE explicit stuff later sooo (18+ MINORS DNI)

Pairing: Ezra (Prospect, 2018) x F!Reader

Warnings: Good old enemies-to-lovers trope. age gap (10 years). Nothing super descriptive for Reader but they are described as having hair. Tension, ofc, especially sexual tension out the wahzoo. Adult language. Alotta feelings and things of that nature. Banter. Flirting. It’s E-to-L, you know where this is going. Feral Ezra (he starts at a 75% but ends up at about a 76.9% in this chapter). Mentions/descriptions of violence, blood, injuries. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary!: A battle breaks out between your crew and a rival group. It's up to you and Ezra to get things under control. Can you two make it out alive?

******

“All that bloodshed, crimson clover

Uh-huh, sweet dream was over

My hand was the one you reached for

All throughout the Great War…”

He goes from being completely relaxed and peaceful to tense and stressed instantly as you both drop down to the floor. Ezra looks at you for a moment, watching you put on your radio and helmet and zipping up your suit. Before he turns then grabs his thrower... but he can't just leave you when he’s not certain where the gunshots are coming from. He turns back around to speak to you, his voice now hushed, almost to a whisper.

"I've got my weapon charged, but I gotta get to my tent to suit up. Then I’ll deal with the commotion outside. Meanwhile, you need to go and get away from the camp. Deal? If anythin’ happens, promise me that."

“What?” You’re shaking your head as you crawl on all fours over to your own weapon, charging it up in record time as the combat outside continues. “No way, I’m not leaving you.” You hear the sound of someone yelling, 

“Ambush!” 

Clearly requesting backup. Ezra’s eyes are like steel now as they look towards the tent entrance as if trying to see beyond the zip. But his attention is back on you as you speak again, your rifle now cocked and ready at your side.

“Either we go together or we both leave.” You say, knowing damn well he won’t leave his fellow crew, just like you won’t.

Ezra sighs and he nods once to show he understands, much to his chagrin. You're a stubborn thing, that's for sure. His heart races at your response and he’s not sure if it’s from the determination in your eyes to stay with him, or out of pure fear and concern for your safety. Regardless, he pushes it aside for now. He needs to focus on getting you both out of this alive. "Well, I guess that means we both go," he says, trying to keep the resignation out of his voice, "but you need to stay close. I mean close. If I tell you to move or take cover, you do it immediately. You're here to help, not to be a hero. Deal?”

You don’t need to be told twice, nodding sternly as the adrenaline takes over. “Deal.” You respond. There’s another round of gunfire and a brief look of fear flashes across your face but you force it away. “Let’s get out there.”

Ezra gives you the firmest nod he can give as you prepare yourself, and then he moves over to the tent’s entrance, both of you standing completely upright only once you’re both in position. "Alright. Follow my lead." He's looking at you once more before he readies himself to step forward, his hand on the zipper of the tent. "On three. One... two... three," he says, and then he's already moving through the opening. You don't even have time to breathe - he's already in the middle of this. You'll need to stick close to him.

You do as he says and stay behind him closely. The sight before you two is awful, bloody. An acrid mix of blood and gunpowder hits your nostrils as soon as you step out of your tent. The sight of gunsmoke is still fogging up the area. There are a few bodies already littering the dig site, maybe about 7. Some you recognize, some you don’t; the latter likely those that ambushed you. Cases of gems belonging to the rest of the crew are scattered all over the site, most of them broken open with some gems accompanying them. Crushed gems are scattered all along the terrain, the fragments glittering brightly amongst the soil.

Ezra's grip is tense as he moves closer to the bodies, his thrower trained and ready to fire at a moment's notice. He's trying to get a good idea of the situation... How many of them are there? Have they already left, or are there more waiting out on the edges of camp? He stops for a moment and looks back at you, still keeping his rifle out. "You okay?" he asks quietly, his tone gentle, but tense and filled with concern as he meets your eyes briefly before making another sweep of the area. There's just... no way he can lose you out here. He won’t.

“Fine.” You respond with a small assuring smile, though your eyes are also tense and narrow as they do their own sweep of the grounds. The gunfire’s stopped but that doesn’t mean the danger is gone. There’s an eerie silence as you two move across the camp. Like trouble is just hiding amongst the trees, waiting to make itself known. You walk as close to Ezra as you can, the two of you getting back to back to cover each other as you both survey the campsite for the smallest sign of harm.

It’s a quick, but tense walk to Ezra’s tent, only a few feet away. Before he heads inside he speaks:

“Any trouble, you run.” His tone is clear: he’s not asking. You nod and do another sweep as you keep your thrower raised, watching him head inside for only a second before your eyes are on the lookout again. 

He suits up faster than you thought physically possible, his helmet and radio in place when he rejoins you outside. His eyes are darting all over the place as he keeps his thrower up and pointed at any potential threat. He really, really doesn't like this situation at all. He was so happy two minutes ago, and now he's in the middle of a firefight. He sighs softly and speaks in a low voice, tuning his radio to your channel as you both reposition back-to-back once more. 

"This is no good," he says quietly, his face tight with tension. "We’re still in danger - please, be on the lookout. There's absolutely no point in us gettin’ hurt, or worse, over this."

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You say, your eyes fixated and razor-sharp as you two begin to move again. It all seems so still, too still.

Ezra moves over to the two nearest bodies and starts searching them for anything of value. Any clues on which group they could be, any sign of why they chose to attack. He continues to scan the area, keeping watch while he searches... "You notice anythin’ about these rivals?" Something in his voice makes you inspect the corpses just a little bit more.

“They’re dressed like us.” You say. “I know some of these faces but the others I know damn well I’ve never seen before.” You add, keeping your voice hushed. “This was a planned ambush. But which of the groups around us was it?”

“Take a look at their boots,” he points out, using his boot to gesture to the nearest body’s shoes. You do as he says and focus your eyes on the boots. There’s nothing particularly special about the boots themselves but,

“They’ve got clay on them.” You remark, taking note of what Ezra pointed out. The bottom of the boots are caked with mud, but bright red-orange chunks of clay pieces are lodged amongst the dirt. Your gaze flits to the next assailant and you see that the bottom of their shoes are in a similar state. “That means it's the group near the river.” Your eyes go to Ezra as he nods grimly. Both of your radio signals suddenly go off and you look at each other before taking quick shelter behind the watchtower. You both press the button on your radios to switch over to channel 3.

Ezra presses his headset up closer to his ear. He listens for a few seconds, his expression serious as he switches the safety on his thrower. He doesn't want to take any more risks in this moment, and he holds his breath while you both wait in the short silence,

A voice crackles through the signal,

“Ezra, colt, what are your positions?” Denver’s voice floods both your earpieces and you let out a sigh of relief. 

“We’re on site; Ezra and I found each other once the ambush began.” You lie, not telling him you two were together the whole time, knowing that’ll only worsen the rumors. If you two don’t die out here first.

Ezra's eyes light up and he lets his shoulders relax ever so slightly. He listens carefully for a moment and then he speaks into his own radio next, his voice firm and clear. "We're safe, but we need some help. We've already got various crewmembers down. I'm requestin’ assistance and evacuation from camp. How's it lookin’ on your end, boss?"

“Affirmative. Sending backup now. Negative on the evacuation; we can't afford to leave the site right now, there are too many of our crew scattered.” You can hear the sounds of gunfire and Denver yells out a few commands to the crewmembers with him. Ezra closes his eyes in frustration, his jaw tensing for a moment,

“If we linger, we’ll be killed.” He insists and you both wait for a response.

“We’re staying, Ezra. That’s an order.” Denver responds. Your eyes flit to Ezra as he clicks his teeth, still frustrated but he nods.

“Yes, sir… How are y’all holdin’ up?” He asks. 

“We’re still in battle here,” Another round of gunfire in the background complements his words. “A good portion of us are managing to hold the fort in the dining tent. Most of the rivals are gone, and a few ran off towards your area. They scattered once the gunfire began, and probably couldn’t handle the bloodshed. You two hang tight and try to find survivors from our crew. Backup will be there soon.”

Ezra lets out a deep sigh as this is clearly the most positive piece of radio chatter he's had since he started this conversation. He gives another affirmative before signing off, and then he turns back to you. "We need to find survivors and bring them back." He's talking as if he's your superior in both his tone and his attitude. He expects you to listen. "Are you up for that? Are you with me?"

Usually, you’d argue with him, bicker, and be difficult. But now, he’s your friend, your partner in battle. And you know you have to obey if you want the both of you to get out of this mess alive. You nod clear determination in your eyes. 

“I am; I’m with you.” You say firmly and check that your thrower is charged again as you two come out from your temporary shelter slowly.

He nods once and looks around carefully before he speaks again. "Alright," he says, his voice quiet and his eyes moving around constantly, "we need to check the rest of this site. Let's stick close, and be ready to run if things go bad. If you even get the slightest inklin’ that this is about to turn into a situation, you need to warn me immediately. Just say the word and I'll start makin’ a dash for it. We can keep an eye out for others as we move, but safety always comes first. Deal?"

“Deal.” You nod and follow him. You two find a few injured crewmembers and take them to the nearest tent on the far left of the camp. They’re all too hurt to fight, leaving you and Ezra as the only strongholds.

In the distance, you hear another commotion and turn. Your eyes widen as you see more members of that rival group running towards you both, their guns aimed. But you’re outnumbered 5 to 2 and you turn to Ezra.

“Run!” You yell and wait for him to move before you do. Gunfire begins to rain down on you both.

Ezra's eyes go wide as you yell out your command, and in the next moment, he's already turned and sprinting away as fast as he can, making good time. He briefly glances back for you as he suddenly makes a hard right, taking a tight turn around a large rock formation. Just as he's going around, he yells back to you over his radio, "I'm going to lead them away from here. When I do, I want you to get the hell outta here! Understood?!"

“What?? No!” You yell back as you run, the sound of gunfire no longer following you, but following to where you saw Ezra last. “Are you crazy?? You’re outnumbered, they’ll kill you or catch up to you!”

"It's not a choice, rook!" Ezra calls back as he begins to run again, in zigzags as the gunfire rains down on him once more. There's a burst of gunfire off to your right, and then the sound of Ezra yelling out in pain... but then it all goes quiet.

Everything's so quiet, and you can't see where he went after he rounded the corner. You don’t hesitate even as your body goes cold and your heart drops into your stomach. 

“Ezra!” You yell. A sudden zip brushing your suit shoulder makes you look up and you spot one of the enemies from the group that has now followed you. You’re quick as you both get into a shootout, one of your strikes finally hitting their shoulder and knocking them down, you don’t hesitate as you shoot again, this one piercing their helmet and hitting them square between the eyes.

Before you can dwell on that much, you watch as the group of enemies that went after Ezra suddenly walk back into view calmly. But they’re not looking at you, so you drop down into the tall grass. At that moment, you hear more shouting and more gunfire behind you.

Turning, you spot the backup you requested coming in hot. There are 7 members of your crew and you smile despite your concern for Ezra. You watch as they run towards the group of 4 rivals, and let them handle things as your attention is now solely focused on finding him.

“Ezra, come in! Ezra, answer me!” You yell into your radio, deep dread filling every cell in your body, threatening to paralyze you but you force your legs to keep moving.

As the gunfire behind you continues, you can hear the radio signal cut in and out while you yell for him. Your crew members don't even hesitate when they see what's going on - they all start to fire back at the attackers, and they manage to take out two of them. The other two run for cover as the situation changes dramatically in the next few seconds...

There's silence for a few more moments and you feel like they could be hours. And then Ezra's radio signal finally kicks on. His ragged breathing is the first thing you hear and the relief you feel is instant. He speaks next and while his voice is strained, obviously in pain... he's alive, and that’s what matters most to you.

"Are you okay?" He groans, his voice a rough pant.

“Are you??” You ask, still running and looking for him with your weapon at the ready. “Where in Kevva’s name are you??” You ask.

"I'm alive," he says, his voice grim, and there's a slight grunt as he speaks. "Those bastards shot me good... I can't keep up like this. You need to go back." Another bullet rips through the bushes nearby at the same time he's talking, but you only glance back once before you run faster, not knowing or caring if that bullet was meant for you or not. Then he adds, "There's no way they came here randomly. They're lookin’ for somethin’, and I think we've already made a mess of their plans. You need to leave, okay?"

“Like hell!” You respond. “Absolutely not, I either leave here with you or I die here, Ezra. Now tell me where you are!” You say.

"I'm at the caves, alright?" he says, letting out another grunt of pain, "Please, go!"

He doesn't waste any time explaining the situation to you. And you don’t waste time trying to convince him, all your focus is on finding him. Just then, a burst of gunfire erupts from the direction of the caves. Ezra isn't kidding... this situation is about to get very bad, very quickly. You can't leave him.

"Please!"

“No!” You yell back and cut the radio, even as you hear him start to protest. Your legs burn as you push your speed to its limits, but after another few seconds, the caves finally come into view.

You can hear the sounds of a struggle. Your eyes narrow slightly as you go in through the nearest entrance, turning on the light atop your gun. The near-darkness is cut as you make your way into the cave, your body tense. Your eyes go to where the sound is coming from and you almost freeze when you see that he’s in the middle of a scuffle with an enemy, his gun a good distance away. But Ezra’s got the upper hand from the looks of it as he straddles his assailant, punching him. The man’s glass helmet is shattered and as you hear bones breaking, you don’t know if the helmet’s shattered from the force of the punches or from so many attempts at breaking it. 

But then the situation shifts when the man punches Ezra on his right side and Ezra yells in pain, falling. The man moves and is quick to crawl on top of him. 

A scream lodges in your throat as a knife appears in the man’s hand suddenly as he raises it, aiming to stab it into Ezra’s chest. Your heart clenches almost painfully at the look of fear in Ezra’s eyes. A bullet zips from your weapon and hits the man square through the jaw, making him yell and Ezra freeze. You hadn’t even realized you’d taken a shot until his panicked eyes glance up. When Ezra sees that the bullet wasn’t meant for him, he relaxes, moving out from under his assailant. 

You move next as you hear the enemy gurgling blood and approach them both, using a final bullet to put the man out of his misery. You drop down to Ezra’s side as you take cover. He quickly crawls over to where his gun lies and grabs it before rejoining you and getting into position beside you. His eyes meet yours just as you both hear more men coming through, both of you once again aiming your guns forward.

The relief that fills you is immediate even as you see that he’s clearly injured. As an unrecognizable group of 4 comes in, you and Ezra immediately begin to shoot. Ezra grunts with effort and pain after every shot, but you’re too focused on the firefight to take a good look at him.

“Miss me?” You ask your eyes forward.

He lets out a quiet chuckle as a shot zips dangerously close to your left shoulder, and another brushes over Ezra’s hair. "Ah, you're somethin’ else." He remarks as he hits the man who took a shot at you square in the heart, while you hit the man who went after him in the leg. "Thank you," he adds. You only nod and keep it up, the adrenaline making this fight seem like it lasts 5 seconds and 5 hours all at once.

After a few minutes, the gunfire stops... but only because all four of your attackers are dead. You can see all four of them on the ground. You and Ezra slowly rise from hiding. "Are you hurt?" He asks, breathing roughly as he limps closer to you, his eyes scanning your body.

“No, but you are.” You say, straightening up and feeling the relief of the fight’s end wash over you. “Where are you hit?” You ask him, your attention is now undivided as you zero in on his injury.

"My right side," Ezra says, lifting his arm up to reveal a fairly large wound that's now bleeding out onto his suit. 

“Was it a clean break? Straight through?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah… think so.” He grits his teeth in pain as he talks, and he keeps his right arm down at his side. "I'll be alright," he says in an attempt to reassure you, even though he's in a lot of pain. "We need to treat this, though."

“Goddamnit. We need to get you back to camp, fast. Can you walk?” You ask him, your eyes scanning him for any other injuries.

Ezra nods once as he lets out a sigh, "Yeah... I can walk. It's gonna hurt pretty bad, though."

He winces at the pain of having his right arm up at his side. He looks over at you and nods. "I'll be fine. We'll get through this... just like we've always done. Okay?" he says with a faint smile. You nod in response, the worry clear in your eyes as they flicker between his face and the large bloodstain on his suit. "Now let's get going. We've got med kits waiting back at camp."

You nod and immediately fall into his left side, slinging his left arm over your shoulders and letting him lean his weight on you as you two walk back to camp together. You’re trying to be as gentle as possible but you’re also trying to rush, knowing he needs medical attention as soon as he can get it.

You send a signal to Denver and his voice floods your radio.

“Colt. where are you?”

“Exiting the caves, sir. Ezra’s hurt. I’m walking him back to camp now.”

“Sending two men your way. How bad is the injury?” He asks. You glance over at Ezra as he winces, almost tripping on the uneven soil again.

“One gunshot, straight through, on his right side. Below his ribcage. I can’t tell yet if it hit any major organs.” 

“Alright. Keep walking you two, help is on the way.” 

“Clear.” The signal goes quiet and you don’t speak again as you and Ezra continue walking.

Ezra leans on you the entire way, moving as quickly as he's able. Occasionally, he makes a sound of pain through his teeth or yells if he trips or moves too quickly... but he's pushing forward despite that. 

You can see the camp up ahead - just a minute or two more. It seems like everything has been shifted over to the dining tent. There are men outside already, all of them helping tend to injured survivors... and a few of them rush over to meet you as you get closer. 

They take Ezra from you and carefully guide him into the tent. You follow close behind them, your eyes not leaving Ezra until you’re inside, where the dining tables have been shoved to the far edges to make space for cots and medical equipment. They place him on the nearest empty cot, where you see two more men already waiting. Few prospectors have medical training other than the basics. Yourself included. You remove Ezra’s helmet and radio for him, setting them aside on the floor.

Ezra's wincing in pain as he's moved onto the cot, and you notice that he's clutching at his side and looking up at you with a grim expression on his face. The two men who brought Ezra in leave to go help elsewhere, while the other two get to work right away. They're wearing gloves and sterile attire and you watch as they cut away at the immediate cloth covering his injury.

“How can I help?” You ask; you’d rather be put to work somehow and offer assistance than just sit around worrying about him. If you can help stop his pain somehow, you’ll feel better and so will he.

The man working as the primary attendant looks over at you. You briefly recall his name is Terrant. “You can help hold him down."

You remove your own helmet and radio, along with your gloves, tossing everything aside next to Ezra’s gear. You wash up quickly before you get onto the cot, near Ezra’s head. He lets out a moan as Terrant begins to dig into the wound, but he grits his teeth and keeps his mouth shut. As you start pressing down on Ezra's shoulder, his face contorts, his face pale and sweaty.

“Hey, look at me.” You say softly, speaking to him in a low soothing tone. “How are you holding up?” You ask, trying to get him to keep his eyes on you and not on what they’re doing to him.

Ezra lets out a long breath of air, but he manages to keep his eyes on you. "I'm not doin’ so hot," He says in a whisper - but he's staying calm and controlling his breathing to keep his pain under control. When he speaks again, he's still quiet, but he manages a soft smile for you. "How are you?" he asks, "You okay?" He looks at you for a moment before he closes his eyes, knowing what's being done is for the greater good.

“I’m fine.” You say, and the shock in your voice is evident. You’ve barely got a scratch on you. “You’re a goddamn lunatic, you know that??” You ask with a soft laugh. “You ran off by yourself, chased by a crew of four. Do you have a death wish??” You ask him, your tone light but it’s clear that you’re very concerned about him.

Ezra chuckles as you call him a goddamn lunatic, but his laugh is cut off as he's suddenly hit with another wave of pain. His eyes shoot open, and you see his eyebrows clench. He takes another long, slow breath, and after a few seconds, it passes. "...I've survived worse," he says, finally looking back up at you with a faint smile. "Besides, I knew you'd come to rescue me, starflower."

That pet name again. You smile and shake your head, even as a light blush creeps into your cheeks. “You’re lucky I’m stubborn and don’t like following your orders.” You say. “Besides… you saved not only my ass but the asses of those injured. What happened to ‘not being the hero’?” You tease softly, quoting him from earlier.

Ezra laughs as you quote himself back to him, and he shakes his head once. "How could I not try to save that perfect smile of yours?" he asks playfully, and then he looks away... even now, he's flirting with you. Even in a situation like this, he still has it in him to make you feel special... but now isn't the time for that. For now, there are more important things happening here, so Ezra takes another deep breath. "How’s it lookin’? Any hope?" he asks, sounding genuinely nervous.

You nod and refocus, looking over at the crewmembers tending to him. It’s looking a lot better already. They’ve cleaned away the blood, and start applying some sort of antiseptic to the wound. This makes Ezra grit his teeth even more... but he knows how important it is that they properly treat him. With less viscera, it’s not as terrifying, making you relax further. You grab a rag from the medkit and clean the sweat away from his face and hair.

“They’re almost done with one side.” You say softly. “Just keep looking at me.” You instruct, leaning a little closer to him.

Ezra looks back at you as you lean in. "I don't have any intention of lookin’ anywhere else, sweetheart," he says softly, and for once he's not trying to be flirtatious. You can hear the sincerity in his voice as he's doing so. You reach your hand up and take his, gently squeezing it, and he smiles at you... maybe not as deeply as he normally does, but his eyes convey more than any words could. "Can you stay here with me ‘til the healing's done?" he asks, his voice soft. You smile softly. 

“Oh, what, you thought you could get rid of me that, easy, huh?” You ask. “Absolutely I’m staying.” You say, squeezing his hand gently in comfort. His grin widens and the relief in him is palpable. Your lips brush his temple before you can stop yourself.

His hand goes limp in your grip as you do - he flinches in his cot, mostly from surprise, and his eyes seem to go wide for a brief moment as if his entire world stops for a second... But then he's got a smile on his face, and he looks at you with a raised brow. "Now, why'd you have to go and do that?" he asks playfully. "Just couldn't resist, huh?"

“Fuck you.” You say, even with a wide smile. “It’s called being grateful, jackass. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You respond with a good-natured eye roll.

Ezra laughs at your response and smiles as he squeezes your hand back, a hint of playfulness to his tone. "Fair enough," he says, returning the eye roll. “For the record, you did save me back. So I suppose you just owe me one ass-savin’.” He says playfully. You grin in response. 

“Oh, I do, huh?” You ask, smirking. “I mean you’re the one saving someone you said is only ‘tolerable,’” You quote him with a knowing smile.

Ezra lets out a long breath of air, and he laughs softly. “Well, I think we’re long past that, rook. Wouldn’t you say?” He asks, and then he smirks a little bit before he speaks again. "Besides, I’m a hurtin’ man right now, clearly on my deathbed! Are ya really gonna tease me about my ego some more?" His eyes twinkle with amusement and the sight is a relief to you. You look around for a moment and spot Denver directing two more injured crew into the tent.

“Maybe just a little. You gotta admit, your ego’s bigger than most.” You don’t realize how insinuating that sounds until you look over and see the look on Ezra’s face. You roll your eyes. “Kevvasake, you really are 14 years old.” You mutter with a grin.

His eyes light up, a short laugh escaping him even as he’s in pain. He blushes, and then he tries to think of something to say, but he comes up empty. You roll your eyes at him, blushing yourself. 

“Listen, I didn’t realize what I said until after I said it, alright?” You say with a grin, backtracking.

“Right..." he says playfully, "Sure you didn't." He smirks and rolls his eyes at you, but he's still laughing a little bit. "I'm the 'kid' here, right?" he asks, and when he sees you're blushing and getting flustered, he can't help but smile going quiet for a minute or so before he speaks again. 

"And, since you didn’t leave me for dead I guess that means you really like me, yeah?" he asks, a little smirk touching his face. His voice is still low and soft, but it's impossible for you not to smile at it. 

“No, of course not, this entire friendship was all a ruse to let your guard down and get shot, as was my plan all along.” You respond sarcastically before your tone softens, becoming more sincere. Your eyes bore into his as the atmosphere shifts between you both. 

“Yes, I do.” You respond honestly. You can tell he’s surprised by your sincerity but he doesn’t let it faze him too much, blushing and smiling instead. 

“Well… I can admit that I really like you too." There's a slight smirk on his face as he says that, a more rogueish twinkle in his eyes as he leans in a little bit closer. You grin and kiss his temple again before the other prospector next to Terrant speaks while Terrant cleans off the tools he’s been using,

“Okay, we’re done with the entrance wound, now we gotta do the exit wound.” The man says. “Can you help me get him on his stomach?” He asks you and you nod immediately.

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Ok, on three.” You two carefully flip Ezra over on the cot and he shouts in pain, making your heart break a little.

“Easy, Ezra, easy.” You say softly as the two others begin working. Ezra nods even as his face is contorted in pain, his eyes shutting for a moment. “Hey,” You say softly and tilt his chin up to find you. “Uh-uh, keep looking at me.” You say, boring your eyes into his. He nods and does as you ask, his face red and a sweat on his brow. You clean it away with the rag. He moans in pain but he stays still, his gaze locked on yours. “Really rethinking saving my ass now, huh?” You joke.

“Oh, never.” He responds with a breathless laugh as he tenses every muscle in his body to keep himself still. “I’ll take this any day as long as you’re still here to look at me with those pretty eyes.” You roll your eyes at him but grin, kissing his forehead again. You smile and keep him distracted until Terrant’s wrapping up.

“Ok, we’re just about done here.” He says, giving Ezra’s wound a final rub down of antiseptic. You smile, relieved, and kiss Ezra’s temple once more.

Ezra's eyes go wide again when you kiss him on the temple for a third time, a tingle shooting through him as he holds his breath again. He quickly gets his composure back, though - but he's still blushing. He looks at Terrant, then he raises an eyebrow and speaks in a grim tone. "Is that right?" he asks, "All patched up then?"

“Yeah, looks like the bastards missed your liver by about 3 inches. We’re gonna give you something for the pain; a good amount of morphine. It’ll probably put you to sleep, let your body heal and rest.” Terrant says as the prospector assisting him prepares the injection. Your eyes go wide and you quickly look away, hiding your face, even though you’re not the one receiving the shot.

Ezra grimaces as he sees the needle come out, but he doesn't flinch when it punctures his skin. He holds himself very still for a moment, letting out an occasional grunt of pain as the medication flows into his vein... but he just keeps holding your hand, and he squeezes it gently before the drugs fully kick in. He looks up at you with a slight smile, and then he closes his eyes. "I'm here... I'm here," he says quietly, breathing deeply. "I'm not goin’ anywhere, okay?" he says, his voice soft and gentle.

You look at him in surprise. “Are you comforting me??” You ask him incredulously. “You’re the one getting injected!”

Ezra laughs for a moment before the morphine starts to take effect, and his laugh quickly becomes muted and muffled. "I can do both, can't I?" he asks softly, his voice trailing off slowly before the drugs start to affect his voice. As his breathing goes shallow and his body starts to relax, he just smiles at you. "I'm here... promise..." he says one last time, his eyes closing and his breathing now very soft. You watch him and your heart stutters as the last thing he does is whisper your name before he finally falls asleep.

You laugh at him softly as tears sting the corners of your eyes, a myriad of emotions running through you. “Blessed Kevva, you really are a lunatic.” You mumble, but he’s already fully asleep. You kiss his forehead once more and brush his hair out of his eyes. You’re just watching him as he sleeps and petting his hair.

Terrant clears his throat to grab your attention and you focus on him.

“He’s really lucky, but he’s not in the clear yet. This next 72-hour period is important to ensure that his injury isn’t infected. I know a lot of the groups like to poison their shots to damage enemies further. He’ll need to be monitored around the clock for the next few nights.”

“I can do that.” You respond immediately. “Whatever it takes.” Terrant nods.

“Ok. I’m gonna go help out, but if he wakes up again, you call me.” He says, You respond with another nod and he leaves with his assistant after you’ve thanked them for all they’ve done. Your eyes go to Ezra and the worry still settles in your heart as you go back to caressing his hair.

You realize then that you don’t hate Ezra, you don’t like Ezra… you love him. You truly love him.

******

I have to say I was especially excited to upload this chapter. It's the chapter that inspired this whole series in the first place. I had to reread the battle scenes so many damn times to make sure I got it all and it made some sort of sense. Hopefully it worked, haha. Next chapter will be up next week! Thanks a million and see you in the next one!

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|| From Ashes ||

Pairing: Frank Castle X F!reader

Rating: M

Tags/warnings: unexpected pregnancy (wrap it before you tap it!), bit of angst and small scuffle between Frank+Matt, birth (not explicit), fluff.

A/n: I am not at all interested in having kids but I look at Frank and he somehow just makes me broody as fuck. Also I have limited knowledge of childbirth so please don't come for me with my inaccuracies 😅

If you like my stuff, I'd really appreciate a reblog ♥️

You'd talked about it before, you both wanted to start a family at some point, but that was sometime way off in the future, after all the shit that he was caught up in was taken care of. Frank said it wasn't safe for you and you had agreed. But one day...

The night before the explosion at the docks, not that you could have any idea he wouldn't be coming home, you'd begged him to fuck you raw. You'd had to talk him round to it. Of course you were on the pill and usually always used condoms, but that night for whatever reason you just wanted to feel him.

"Better be careful darlin' or I'll put a baby in you."

The sound you made and the way you felt when those words left his lips and hit your ears you'll never forget.

"Oh, you like the sound of that sweetie?"

In the midst of the gut-wrenching grief and fog of confusion after Frank was gone you'd missed a couple of days of pills but didn't think anything of it. After all, what were the chances? A few weeks later you put the skipped period down to extreme stress, it had happened before. Now you were here, crumpled on the bathroom floor with five positive pregnancy test sticks confirming the real reason behind your 'vomiting bug".

You didn't know what you were going to do. The only thing you were certain of is that you were keeping it.

When you had asked Matt to meet you it was as if he already knew something was up. Aside from the obvious hammering of your heart with nerves, "you smell different", he'd told you.

"I'm pregnant".

That was the first time you'd actually said it out loud.

It suddenly made everything real and you didn't even realise you were crying into Matt's chest as he held you and promised it would all be okay.

When you went for your first scan you realised that your wage from your shift at Josie's wasn't going to cut through the upcoming hospital bills alone. Matt insisted on helping you with the finances but you didn't want a hand out, you wanted to work.

"Well, Nelson, Murdock and Page are actually doing pretty good now, and as we're so busy we could really use some help. How about you come work for us?"

You couldn't thank him enough.

~

Now it was time. Once you were checked into to the hospital and given a room, Karen and Foggy helped you get settled in and comfortable while Matt gave the nurse some more information.

"Mr Castiglione?"

Matt nodded, going along with your preference of Frank's old moniker and pretending to be your partner. You didn't want to take any unnecessary risks and Matt was more than happy to be there for you.

"Okay, you say the contractions started around an hour ago, and she was feeling a little dizzy?"

"Yes," Matt confirmed, "I think her blood pressure might be low. Will her and the baby be okay?"

The nurse nodded. "We'll keep monitoring her as normal but it's looking fine at the moment, contractions are still quite far apart. Certainly nothing to worry about."

She turned to you. "If they start coming closer together you just let me know, but for now try and relax as best you can honey."

Matt cocked his head as he picked up the radio call of one of the police officers at the opposite end of the floor. A fight underway in an alley a couple of streets away, suspected armed gangland conflict. He looked over at you talking with the others.

"Uh, I'm just gonna go pick up some snacks and water for you from the store round the corner okay?"

You nodded, "thanks Matty, don't be too long, no idea when this baby's coming!"

"Don't worry, be back in no time."

~

Was it irony that tying up the last loose ends of Frank's past had brought him right back to Hell's Kitchen? When this was over maybe he could finally work out how to come back to his  life, back to you.

He'd put three of the gang he'd been chasing down already before a familiar masked pain in the ass jumped down from the fire escape landing in front of him.

"The fuck you doin' here Red?" Frank spat, flooring the last goon with headbutt.

Matt approached him. "Was in the area, heard a ruckus. The usual. Sure as hell didn't expect it to be you somehow..."

Frank chuckled, "yeah I'll bet, you feel like fightin' a ghost?" He inched towards the Devil.

Matt was on his guard. "Not here to fight you Frank but you gotta come with me. Now."

"Nah, nah, you're comin' with me, gonna tell me where my girl is."

"Listen, how long have you been away?" Matt asked him, circling Frank and keeping his distance.

"Had stuff I needed to take care of, what the fuck is it to you?"

"Nine months, Frank. You've been gone nine months."

"Why the fuck does that matter? Where is she?" He roared.  "Went to the apartment and most of her stuff is gone...  looks like she ain't been there for a while. I know you know, Red. You were always close."

"She's been living with me the last few months-"

Frank charged forward with a growl, aiming to kick Matt square in the chest but he dodged away before he could connect.

"Oh, right yeah! I get it. I'm barely dead and you just slide on in, huh? Real gentleman." He span around fast, popping his elbow up and smashing it into Matt's face making him stagger back, blood gushing from his nose. "If you were anyone else I'd fuckin kill you. But I won't, for her sake."

"Jesus Frank, you've got it all wrong," Matt wiped his nose and spat out the blood in his mouth. "if you'd just stop trying to beat the shit out of me and let me explain!"

Frank grabbed him by the throat, slamming him against the roof door. "Yeah I'd fuckin' love to hear how you think you can get out of this one "

Matt choked, swatting and wrenching at Frank's arm but he was running on pure rage and too strong, his dark eyes blazing into Matt's unfocused ones.

He swallowed, "she came to me... 'bout a month or so after you were gone..."

Frank's grip tightened. "She came to you?"

Matt tried to get the words out as fast as he could given the circumstances.

"Hngh-... s-she was scared, she'd just found out she... she was pregnant. She was worried about money, worried she couldn't cope. Karen, Foggy and I... we've looked after her, made sure she has everything she needs."

Frank choked as he processed Matt's words.

"Pregnant? W-what? Who's... is it yours?!" He pushed Matt into the wall.

Matt spluttered out an incredulous laugh, "Think about it Frank,"

He turned it over in his mind, you were his everything, all he wanted was to keep you safe, and him ending up 'dead' had the perfect way to do it. He could hunt down every single threat from his past and blow them away easy. It had taken him almost all the way across the country in about nine months. Nine fucking months...

"Fuck." Frank released his hold on Matt and fell down to his knees.

"My girl, she- she's..." He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. Matt coughed, trying to get his breath back as he straightened up, laying his hand on Frank's shoulder.

"She's in Metro General right now. I've been trying to tell you, c'mon I'll take you to her."

They entered the hospital through a service door at the rear, Matt guiding them through the corridors without drawing attention to an vacant locker room. He gestured at a shelf of clean scrubs opposite as Frank checked behind them was clear before closing the door.

"Clean up as best you can and put those on. Can't have you waltzing in there looking like you just beat some Russian gangsters to a bloody pulp, huh?"

Frank grunted, shedding his bloodsoaked, dirty shirt and donning the blue scrubs and borrowing a hoodie hanging on a peg before heading to the sink in the corner, washing his hands and splashing his face with water.

He paused gripping the edge of the sink, leaning over it. Bloody droplets fell onto the stainless steel and trickled down the drain.

"You ready?" Matt called, taking off and shoving the makeshift mask he was wearing under some trash in the bin.

Frank shook his head slowly. "I'm scared Red, christ.'

"I think that's normal...."

"I mean, I'm fucking terrified." He started pacing, "what if I go in that room and she... she doesn't want me?"

"She will Frank. She does. She loves you, she never stopped loving you."

Frank looked up at him.

"C'mon," Matt said, opening the door. "you don't want to miss this."

As they headed up to your room, Matt filled Frank in.

"Her water broke after I uh, made her laugh a bit too much..."

"Typical." Frank mused.

"Mild contractions started a couple hours ago, they're still pretty far apart but I brought her in early as her blood pressure was low," Matt sensed Frank's immediate concern. "She's fine, she's okay. Baby's heart is strong."

Frank chuckled in disbelief, "you can hear that?"

Matt smiled, shrugging, "yeah."

"Jesus. Can you tell what it is, I mean, does she know... boy or girl?"

Matt smirked. "No, she didn't want to know. And I'm not that good Castle. It's a... surprise."

Frank laughed nervously as he followed him around the next corner. "Damn right it is."

Frank froze in the doorway when he saw you, lying propped up on the bed hooked up to a monitor. You were talking to Karen. A little bit of sweat beaded your forehead. He could see the rounded swell of your stomach under the sheet that covered you. He'd never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

"Matty, you're back! What the hell happened to you?" You exclaimed, seeing the bruises on his face, eyes flicking to the hooded figure in scrubs beside Matt.

"...Karen, they've definitely not given me any drugs yet have they? This baby's making me crazy, I thought I saw Frank standing next to Matt."

You watched Karen stare at the doorway, her jaw opening and closing silently.

"He- he is." She finally said in disbelief.

"Karen don't joke, Frank's dead."

You laughed as the Frank-shaped hallucination belted across the room to your side and gently grabbed your hand.

"What? This... isn't real... he's- you're dead." You stuttered, trying to comprehend the fact you could feel him squeezing your hand, his eyes fixed on yours, glittering with tears about to fall. "But, you're dead..." you choked out.

Matt rubbed at his throat, his voice still hoarse and raw, "I promise you he's real, and very much alive."

"Sweetheart." Frank's voice was small, rough and choked up but there was no mistaking it. He raised your hand to his lips and kissed, brushed your hair back out of your face and kissed you on the forehead. He said your name, it was just like the dream you had on so many nights but the warmth of his lips that you thought you'd never ever feel again was so solid and real and here. You flung your arms around him pulling him as close as you were able to. Holding on to him so he wouldn't disappear again.

"Frank! Oh my god Frank-"

He nuzzled against your neck, kissing you there too. "I'm here baby, I'm so sorry! God I've missed you so so much." You breathed each other in, you were whole again.

You cried, he cried, Karen cried, even Matt was blinking away tears.

Frank finally found your lips and almost kissed the breath from you. You held him there for a long moment, foreheads touching, before letting him go and smacking him in the face with your right hook.

He rubbed at his jaw, moving it from side to side. "Yeah, I deserve that."

"Fucking right you do, where the hell have you been?! I thought you were dead! We all did!"

He sat beside you on the bed. "I know, god I wanted to tell you, to see you..." he kissed your fingers again. "there were things I needed to take care of you to keep you safe, and it meant that I couldn't come back. I didn't know that... that you- fuck if I'd known..."

"That I'm having your baby? Our baby."

"I'm so sorry honey, sorry I wasn't there for you. Shit, I've really missed everything, the scans... wasn't even there to rub your feet..."

"Not much to miss, just me growing to the size of and looking like a beached whale. Anyway, Matt and Foggy gave A+ foot rubs."

Frank dipped his head. "Shit, I owe you guys, big time. You came through for my girl. I'll make it up to you I swear."

Matt shrugged, "you don't have to, nothing we wouldn't have done anyway. Just glad you're back Castle."

"Yeah," Karen added, smiling, "you're where you belong."

Just then Foggy returned from the coffee run. "Sorry it took so long, the guy in front punched the machine and actually broke it because it wouldn't give him change so I had to go-" he clocked the hooded figure crouched by your side stroking your hair. "Castle..?"

Matt reached out catching hold of the coffee cups before Foggy dropped them out of shock.

"Holy shit... I guess daddy's home?!""

"Good to see ya Nelson."  Frank nodded before turning back to you.

"Anyway, you ain't the size of a whale, you look beautiful, doesn't she?" He looked to the others for some backup.

You snorted, "oh yeah, ask the opinion of my best friends, one of whom is blind..."

Matt just grinned while Foggy and Karen clamoured to assure you that you looked great.

"Well you're fucking gorgeous, and I love you." Frank said as he kissed your lips again. You saw his eyes flick down to your belly as he sat back.

"I love you too, so much. Here," you say, pulling your gown up a little way and taking his hand and placing it carefully on your bump.

Frank shook his head, a choked laugh escaping his lips as he felt movement, still not fully believing.

"I swear it's gonna be better at kicking ass than you!" You joked.

He smiled, and you bathed in it. "This is really happening huh?"

"Yeah, and-" You hissed, gritting your teeth as pain suddenly lassoed around your abdomen. "it really fucking hurts!" Frank tried to soothe you as you shifted around trying to get comfortable, you got him to pull you up so you could stand and lean over the bed while he rubbed your lower back.

"You okay?" Matt asked. He tilted his head, a furrow appearing between his brows.

You laughed nervously, "heh yeah, peachy." Another contraction, this time much stronger hit you and you felt like you wanted to bear down. "Oh fuck!" You groaned, your legs buckling with the pain. Matt made to move towards you but Frank caught you and held you up.

"Okay," Foggy said, putting his coffee down, "I'm no expert but I think these contractions are getting a mite closer together, gonna go get someone."

"Thanks Foggy." Frank resumed massaging your back and you hummed with gratitude, bracing yourself for the next round of pain.

"Think this baby decided it's time to meet their daddy..."

The midwife and nurse appeared with Foggy. "Alright, anyone who's not a parent will have to leave. This ain't a party."

Karen squeezed your hand, "we'll be right outside, you've got this."

"Good luck!" Foggy said, kissing your cheek.

"You're gonna be fine sweetie, Frank's gonna take good care of you." Matt said. As he reached for the door you turned to Frank.

"I want him here, please..." Frank nodded, he owed Matt that much and it was your decision.

"Matt will you stay?" You called out to him.

"Of course, if that's okay?" He replied, humbled that you'd asked.

"Can he?" you asked the midwife with pleading eyes.

"Fine, just don't get in the way." She said. "Dad, you come over this side, you're gonna be her squeeze toy and help her breathe okay?"

"Yes ma'am." Frank replied, taking your clammy hand in his as you focused on him.

Matt sat on the opposite side, his fingers locking between yours.

The midwife checked you over. "Alright honey it's time to push, nice big deep breaths for me, here we go."

~

A girl.

Frank was so in love with you both and he couldn't do enough to help when he got to take the two of you home. It made your heart burst to see him singing to her, getting up in the middle of the night to help feed and change her. This was a side of him you'd never seen but you always knew was there.

Matt, Foggy and Karen worked tirelessly to find a way to exhonourate him from the dock incident, and all the other gang hits while he was 'dead' were untraceable back to him anyway. He'd been careful.

You both finally had your own family, as well as your found family, and nothing was ever going to take that away.

#frank castle x female reader #frank castle fic #pregnant reader #frank castle fluff #the punisher fluff #the punisher x reader #punisher fic #frank castle x reader #the punisher x female reader

[allzelemonz]

Together in Captivity: Sean MacGuire X Male Reader

Pronouns: None Mentioned, Reader is referred to as ‘man’. Physical Sex: None Mentioned Rating: M/Torture, Reference to sex Warnings: Tortured by bounty hunters, Sean talks a lot, fluff, lots of lovey-dovey stuff, cuddling, reunited after separation Summary: After what happened in Blackwater you and Sean are taken by bounty hunters. They finally put you in the same room and leave you to have a party. Fluff ensues.

Getting captured in Blackwater was probably one of the most unpleasant experiences of your life. Too many things went wrong, too many people died, and you and Sean got captured. Ike Skelding has been a wonderful host so far, torturing and beating the two of you for information on the rest of the gang. Sean has lost a few teeth, you have several scars healing on your skin. Most nights they don’t let you sleep, sometimes they hang you upside down. It’s been a few days since you’ve seen Sean, but you can hear his endless mocking followed by screams of pain.

Tonight the bounty hunters seem to be in a better mood. They’re chatting as they torture, excited for a party. It’s nice, they don’t cut as deep as usual and when they take you away it’s to a building instead of a tree to hang by your ankles. They open the doors and they swing wide open, revealing the empty, open single room. On the floor, curled into a ball, is Sean. His hair is greasy and his skin is pale, there’s blood stains on his clothes. You can’t imagine you look much better. The bounty hunters throw you inside and close the doors before Sean can talk their ears off. You stumble forward and land near him on the ground.

“Oh, you’re alive!” Sean says, scrambling over to you. “I thought you’d be dead by now, I thought I’d be dead by now.”

His hands rest on your shoulders, holding you upright so he can see your face. A weak smile rests on his face and he pulls you into him, holding you close. The fresh blood on your shirt stains his but he doesn’t seem to care. His hand moves to the back of your head, mixing in your hair. You hold each other as if either of you might fly away at any second.

“I missed ya, big man.” Sean mumbles into your shoulder. “My God I missed ya. I missed ya so much.”

“I missed you too, Sean.”

He presses a kiss to your neck and squeezes you tighter. “Dutch’ll be comin’ for us, I know he will.”

“How long do you think the bounty hunters will leave us here?” You mumble.

Sean sighs, still holding you just lightly enough for you to breathe. “Forever, I hope. Least ‘til Dutch comes for us.”

You press a kiss to his jaw and hug him tighter. “Have you slept much?”

“Don’t think about sleepin’ now, I ain’t wastin’ a second here with ya.” He pulls back so he can see your face. “Not one second, sweetheart.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek and can’t help the smile that comes to your face from seeing him. All the bruises aside, he’s still Sean. You lean in and he meets you halfway in a kiss. It’s light and timid because Sean has a cut on his lip, but he can’t help it when he presses hard against you. He winces, but keeps kissing you until you stop him.

“Sorry.” He says, wiping some of his blood from your lip. “I just missed ya, can’t help myself.”

You smile, grabbing his hand and holding it between you. “We should sleep while they let us.”

Sean sighs. “Fine, fine. Only if ya promise me something fun when we get outta here.”

“You can have anything you want, Mister MacGuire.”

Sean lays down on the soft patch he found before they threw you in with him and you curl up next to him, lay on your sides so you can hold each other. You fall asleep looking over Sean’s face and trying to remember every detail of it while he rubs soothing circles into your skin. He watches you sleep for a while, taking you in just as you were with him until he falls asleep himself. You both have nightmares. It’s hard not to given the situation you’re in.

When Sean wakes up he’s scared from the lingering dark dreams, but he feels better when everything sets in. Your arms around him, your deep breaths, everything soothing him back into a reality where he can press soft kisses to your face and run his hand through your hair. When you open your eyes he smiles at you.

“Mornin’ there, big man. Have a good sleep?”

“Did you?”

“Absolute shite, thanks for askin’.”

He presses another kiss to your head and pulls you back into his chest. The sun shines a little through the cracks, telling you it’s morning, maybe even afternoon.

“We probably shouldn’t let them find us like this.” You sigh. “I’ve seen other men swing for less.”

“Fine.” Sean mumbles. “I’m keepin’ hold a’ ya until they’re those doors though.”

“I love you.”

Sean giggles. “You better, with all the shite I do for ya.”

You tilt your head so you can kiss him, pulling away before he has the chance to hurt his lip again.

“I love ya too.” He says. “Don’t know what I’d do without ya.”

You pull him tighter against you, your hands clinging onto his clothes. He holds you just as tightly, avoiding bruises as best he can. You stay there until you hear footsteps outside and voices muttering about moving you to a boat to move to their camp. They bounty hunters get you both up, tying your hands, and lead you out to the water. Maybe Dutch and gang will have a better chance of finding you at this new camp.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #red dead redemption x reader #red dead redemption x male reader #x reader #x male reader #sean macguire #sean macguire x reader #sean macguire x male reader

[namjooningelsewhere]

Break Me, Heal Me (Part Two) - Teaser

➤Pairing: Yoongi x Reader , Taehyung x Reader

➤Angst: Angst (Shit Ton of it), Smut(Mature Content), Fluff.

➤Rating: 18+

➤Warning(s): Swearing, self doubts, crying,Cheating, Lies, Lots of drinking and fighting, lot of swearing too, reader is a confused mess. (Smut Warnings will be posted with the update). Yoongi is manupulative, Taehyung is a little too nice, Hes a sweetheart.

➤Au: Idol au, cheating au, established relationship au.

➤Word Count: 582

➤Summary: You left him when you had enough of his Lies and deceit. He found you when he was steps away from reeling in his own darkness. You thought you had started a new chapter away from all the heart breaks and self doubt, But life proves you wrong when after one night you encounter your ex boyfriend who will stop at nothing to win you again and a best friend who is just happy to keep a count of people he will keep losing you to.

➤Part One Here

➤A/N: So Finally after a long long time ive started working on the second part of Break Me, Heal Me. If i have missed anyone on the taglist, Please comment on this post and il tag you for the update.

➤Taglist:@jayhopely ,@sugaslittlekookies @silentkei @yoongisus@aria-grace-scott @hob3yw0rld @rubylookingaround @sld88@babycoffeefire @shatzkrinslinzki @hhhhhhhyy35@imanerdychubbyqueen @zae007live @starbtslove @kooliv @rubylookingaround @zzzgggppp @imluckybitches @its-yagirl-raelynn @2ne1unni @definetlythinkimanalien @heartsarecompatible @readwithlivvy @shadowyjellyfishfest @btsreader12 @damn-u-min-yoongi @rein-deer-stuffs @taeshuworld @classymfs @stoosie @koreanaestheticc @write-the-love-story @kookiesandcreams @rkiveho @jinsoulluvr1 @hajimabutdont @apezjack @reiaclub @mochi-swissroll @hjhjhwwe @301295rkive

Your eyes widened when you saw the two men standing in front of your door, You gasped when you saw the condition they were in as well. Tattered clothes, bruised lips and slurred words were what described your ex boyfriend and your best friend. 

“Tae, Yoongi, did you guys fight with each other?” 

Tae pushed Yoongi aside and walked past you inside, Leaving a frowning Yoongi out in the doorway.

“Yoongi, why are you here?” You crossed your arms on your chest when Yoongi kept trying to look past you. 

“Y/n i've missed you–” Before he could complete his sentence Yoongi slipped forward right into your arms, shifting his entire weight on you. You held him, A string of curses escaping your mouth. He was heavy, You tried calling out to Tae but the moment you looked back to ask for help, Your eyes widened when you saw Tae already passed out on the couch.

You dragged Yoongi to the couch, He kept muttering useless apologies to you which didn't mean shit. You were fine without him. You were doing fine without him in your life. The fact that you had moved on from him even before you broke up helped a lot.

 You looked at the two men scattered on your couch, Your ex boyfriend who slept without a care in the world and your bestfriend who looked uncomfortable in the cramped position. You move over to Taehyung to help him get rid of the heavy uncomfortable jacket, But you froze the moment he sensed a movement and spoke with your hands stuck in his jacket.

“I will always keep losing you to someone, Won't i?” Taehyung muttered the words unconsciously with a half smile on his face. 

“Tae—

“Y/nah when will i learn to let go of you?” You froze for the second time when Tae muttered those words, You tried to make sense of what he said but all this was new to you too. You and Taehyung were the best of friends and things like feelings had never come in between. You needed to talk to him but now was literally not the time when your ex boyfriend was literally two steps away. 

After what seemed like several minutes later, You managed to free Tae out of his jacket and just when you were about to move to put it away, An unconscious Yoongi caught your hand.

“Y/n I'm sorry, I love you and only you. I promise.” You quickly free your hand from your ex boyfriend and take a seat next to the couch. The two dead drunk unconscious men keep muttering gibberish which is enough to give you a headache.

What had you gotten yourself? Your ex boyfriend who did not give two fucks about you while he cheated on you, But when he left he ends up on your doorstep a month after exactly dead drunk, Your best friend who was with you through thick and thin had some unspoken feelings for you. 

Life was a mess and somehow again, You found yourself at the centre of it.  

#btshoneyhive #btscarnivalnet #btsdreamcourt #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung smut #yoongi x reader #taehyung x reader #yoongi x y/n #taehyung x y/n #bts ff #bts x reader #bts x y/n #bangtan smut #min yoongi x reader #kim taehyung x reader #cheating au #idol au

[thepuckishrogue]

Javier Escuella x GN!Reader in: What You Want, What You Need

MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT || 18+ ONLY ||

|| ao3 version | f!reader | m!reader ||

|| javier m.list | rdr m.list | writing blog ||

↠ Requested By: The absolutely unreal levels of thirst I have for this man ↠ Reader Gender: Neutral ↠ Content Type: So very NSFW ((is2g, if I see any minors interacting with my stuff it’s ~on sight~)) ↠ Chronology: In the here and now because it’s a Modern AU ↠ CWs/TWs: There a lot, but the biggest are mild exhibitionism, m!dom/sub dynamics, rough treatment/sex (Reader receiving), jealous Javier (but make it non-toxic), light choking (Reader receiving), and orgasm denial/control (Reader receiving). For a complete and more detailed listing see the note below the cut. And if I missed anything, please let me know!! ↠ Betas? Lmaoooooo… ↠ Total WC: 7.5k~

“Oh fuck you, Escuella.” “You’d best watch that mouth of yours, mi amor. Just because daddy-dearest can’t take you over his knee anymore doesn’t mean your papi won’t.”

A Modern AU in which you take your teasing a little too far at a friend’s party. In return Javier will make sure that you get what you deserve before you get what you need.

He’s using papi SARCASTICALLY ffs lmao

‼ PLEASE NOTE THAT I AM NO LONGER POSTING NEW WORKS TO THIS ACCOUNT ‼

The only reason I’m putting the GN version on here is because it doesn’t make sense to break them up. If you want to keep up with my work, head over to my writing blog, linked above. ((that’s where the link for my rdr m.list will take you, btw))

Anyways! Sorry it took me so long to write this. I have no excuse aside from being lazy and not wanting to cringe my way through reading my old writing lol.

Also! I’m trying something new, as far as translations go. Instead of having them all at the top of the post, they’re now directly under the paragraph they appear in. Imo this makes for an easier read, but if it’s having the opposite effect let me know; if enough people are having problems with it I’ll go back to the old format.

((also, also—I’m naught but a basic ass English speaker and thusly all translations are still internet-sourced, so if they’re wrong please refrain from coming for me lol))

💦 Tags: Reader uses they/them pronouns || Reader has ambiguous anatomy || Reader is POC friendly || M!dom/sub dynamics (with Reader being a low-key bratty sub until they sweeten up) || public teasing, but make it ~sexy~ (Javi receiving) || fingering (Reader receiving) || orgasm denial (Reader receiving) || penetrative sex (Reader receiving) || rough treatment/sex (tho not overly so) || one SARCASTIC use of “daddy/papi” || lots of pet names (including that “good baby” type beat, Reader receiving) || Reader purposefully making Javi jealous (in a playful, non-toxic way lol) || Charles is an accomplice in the aforementioned foolishness (there’s an… implied understanding there*) || naturally that means there’s a certain level of exhibitionism but it’s all R-rated stuff || arm binding via a scarf (Reader receiving) || light choking (Reader receiving) || lots of praise (Reader receiving b/c that’s Javi’s jam) || voice kink stuff (goes both ways) || ((write that off to OP being a self-indulgent shit once again lol)) || orgasm control (Reader receiving)

*So basically after fucking around Reader finds out that Javi’s not one to be teased after he winds them up only to leave them wanting. Reader, wanting to get back at him for not finishing the job, utilizes one of their mutual friends (Charles) to stoke a little jealousy, but I swear it’s not as toxic as it sounds lmao. It’s less about actually making him jealous and more about fraying his ironclad sense of control by triggering his possessive streak… Which, okay, still sounds bad I suppose, but there’s being possessive and then there’s being possessive in a hella toxic way; Javi is the latter. What’s more it’s implied that the three of them have an understanding of sorts, so it’s all in good fun.

“Is this what you wanted, mi amor?” ((my love))

Yes, your body screams as his hand works against your center, the drag of his callouses creating a delicious friction with every pass over the hot, sodden flesh. Your hands grip at his shoulders, hard and nearly tight enough to bruise, as you grind up into his touch.

You know you must look thoroughly debauched right now—head thrown back to expose more of your neck to his care, lips slightly parted under pants and half-formed curses, skin flushed and sweat-slick, and eyelids weighed down by the weight of your lust—and that’s saying nothing of the state of your clothes. Items have been hastily tugged and rearranged to get the most needed parts exposed in the quickest amount of time possible. You clearly look like you’re in the process of being ravished, but Javier…

The man couldn’t be more put together if he tried.

There’s not a hair out of place, and despite the desperate hold you have on his shirt, the damn thing hasn’t even so much as wrinkled. The only sign that he’s even the least bit affected by all of this is the tent in his pants and the desire that darkens his gaze, but you suppose that’s to be expected. If he wasn’t so damnably good at keeping his composure you wouldn’t have bothered with doing the things that have led you to this moment.

An ‘accidental’ brush of your fingers against his crotch, whispered filth as you casually rested your weight against his back, the instant transformation of a simple spoon into something far more erotic once it passed your lips—nothing was off limits, not when you were so hell-bent on breaking him. It’s all consensual, this game the two of you play. Sometimes the teasing is mutual, other times it skews a bit more against one of you, but the end goal is always the same: to bring the other so close to the edge that they willingly hurl themselves over it.

Today’s party had been the perfect excuse to indulge in a bit of play, and your man had been all too willingly to serve himself up as prey. This, of course, was due to the fact that he was more than confident in his victory. The thrill of the challenge was the only thing that gave the get-together any allure; sure, Karen and Sean do hold the crown for best house parties in your friend group, but you’re not always sure that they’re worth the (usually hangover induced) headache.

You’d brought you’re A-game, starting with wearing an ensemble that you know he couldn’t resist. His mind had clearly gone blank when you first emerged from the bedroom, though he quickly rearranged his face into something cavalier before telling you to “–get your cute ass in the car so we can get gone.” Your fingers played along the inseam of his pants for the entire length of the ride, but aside from an initial arching of his brow he was annoyingly nonplussed. You had stepped things up considerably once you were inside, but despite essentially giving a plastic spoon a blowie (just out of view of an unsuspecting Arthur and Lenny) the man hadn’t done so much as smirk in your direction.

After a good twenty minutes got you nothing but an ache between your own thighs you finally gave up and decided to try to enjoy the party. With a cup of something mixed and fruity in hand you headed off to join your friends, but before you could make your way into the living room a familiar hand was curling itself around your arm and dragging you off in the opposite direction.

It just fucking figures that being ignored would be the back-breaking straw. You would’ve been mad at it if it wasn’t gonna result in yours getting blown out.

Neither of you said anything as Javier led your deeper into the house, not that there was much to say anyway. It was pretty damn obvious from the set of his jaw and the hunger in his eyes that you had won, and it could never be said that you weren’t a gracious winner …self-satisfied smirk notwithstanding.

His lips were on yours before the door had even fully shut behind you. You had laughed a bit at his eagerness, but the taunting sound soon morphed into a moan when your back slammed into the wall just beside the thing. Eyes smoldering and smile wicked, he groped at your clothed form in a way that had you writhing and grinding against him within seconds. It was only once you were a panting mess that he finally, finally bypassed the layers to touch you properly; hot and wet, proof of your arousal met his questing fingers, electing a groan that was nothing short of orgasmic. Things had moved quickly from there, and the rest…

“I said—‘is this what you wanted?’”

The words are growled against your ear, though the harsh pant of the breaths that follow travel downwards until he’s nipping at the corner of your jaw. A broken mewl pushes past your lips at its sting, and though the sound leaves him shuddering against you, it’s clearly not enough to sate him. His free hand connects with your ass in a resounding slap, one that while not overly hard is still enough weaken your knees considerably.

“Yes,” you groan out, the word catching in your throat as his thumb rubs a fresh pearl of precum over your sensitive flesh. “Fuck! Javi, yesss…”

Hot, bothered, and more than a little desperate you rut against his hand with hard little jerks. Your borderline frantic movements and needy little sounds leave him chuckling darkly as he works you over with practiced ease. His tone is condescending as hell as he pulls more and more out of you with lascivious words murmured in a husky timbre. He’s playing you like a goddamn fiddle, but you don’t care, can’t care—about this or anything else that’s not your impending release.

“Baby, I need, fuck, I need–”

“Shhh, I know.”

And you don’t know how he knows, just that somehow he always, impossibly does, and now is no exception. He descends to his knees with a smoothness that only repetition can bring, nudging your legs wider so that you’re more fully on display for him. He looks up at you then, wanting to make sure that you’re watching—as if you could ever be looking anywhere else. His eyes flicker with a familiar mischief as he runs the flat of his tongue over your heat and you damn near scream at the wet, warm trail it cuts.

“Careful now, cariño, you don’t want them to hear us– Oooo…” The word fades into a rolling chuckle when your hips give an involuntary thrust forward that has him amending his statement. “Or maybe you do? Mmmm… You like that, huh? You like the thought of them hearing what I do to you? Hmm, mi bebé travieso?” He all but purrs the last word as he presses a kiss to your quivering thigh before putting his mouth to work again. He alternates between gentle sucks and teasing flicks of his tongue against your most sensitive areas; meanwhile his fingers gather up a measure of your moisture before pushing inside of you to start up a lazy pace. This treatment lasts for a few glorious seconds only to come to a stop so abrupt that it leaves all of your muscles seizing up in confusion. ((sweetie || my naughty baby))

You know what he wants—an answer to a question, that if he were less petty, he wouldn’t expect a real reply to—just as you likewise know that he won’t start again until he gets it. And so you take a shaky approximation of a breath before managing to stutter out, “J-just… returning the favor.”

Laughing, he takes your meaning instantly. With as many times as you’ve been forced to listen to Karen and Sean go at it on various occasions, it does only seem fair. Of course, your reply is more copout than actual answer, but thankfully he lets it go. For now. You’ll definitely be talking about this again at some point in the future—probably later on tonight, actually—but for right now he’s content enough to go back to ruining you with his deft fingers and talented mouth.

You’ve always been fascinated by Javier’s hands. They’re slightly larger than what you would expect from a man his size, and yet somehow they don’t seem out of proportion to his body. They hold so much potential, both to create and to destroy—a point that is mirrored in the tattoos and scars that cover the dusk of his skin. You love to see them in motion, whether he’s doing something as mundane as tuning his guitar or something more perilous like playing with one of his many knives; the former is a particular point of fascination as you cannot help but to wonder if the skill transfers over to more carnal activities. The way his stroking thumb works in time with the bob of his fingers into your heat you’re inclined to say that yes, yes it does.

And his mouth…

Holy fuck, his mouth.

It doesn’t matter where it is he’s kissing you, having his lips pressed against your skin is always enough to leave you weak. Warm and pillow soft, they glide over you leaving a feverish trail of desire in their wake. Calloused fingers continue to work you open, adding to your pleasure in a way that sees your voice scaling higher, louder, as any lingering worries about being overheard are vaulted clean out of your head.

In this moment his only goal is to see you coming undone, and under Javier’s touch you’re a rapidly fraying thread. He’s loving every minute of this, you know he is, but—“If you can’t keep that pretty little mouth of yours quiet, amor, I know my cock can.”

“Oh my god.”

The throb your core gives is almost painful in its intensity as you imagine having him face fuck you until tears are spilling past the corners of your eyes before bending you over and absolutely ruining you, and you have to wonder just what this man has done to you. You were never this damn kinky before—or maybe you’ve always been a closet freak—either way since getting with Javi you have been turned completely out, and you’re not even mad about it, honestly. What you can do without, however, is his smug little laugh. Like yeah, he totally has a right to it, wrecking you the way he is, but still. Any saltiness you feel is quickly forgotten as the spooled pleasure in your stomach wrings itself tighter. Your bodies work in tandem creating the perfect rhythm, so fucking perfect, and you’re so fucking close, just a little more and then—and then he’s pulling away?

What?

“Nooo! Javier, why–”

“Orgasms are for good little loves,” he tells you simply as he rises back to his full height.

“You cannot be serious right now.”

But looking at him you know he is. Honestly you should’ve been expecting something like this—you had been teasing him for nearly twenty minutes before this all began—but you’d thought that your punishment was going to come in the form of him gagging you with his dick before fucking you until you screamed. But this… Well this is the other side of the coin that you’d forgotten to consider. Yes, he’s hard and yes, he wants this just as badly as you, but Javier’s more than willing to deny his own needs if it means winning this little game of yours. He’s petty like that, and what’s more he has the will to see it through.

Well fine then, you think with a pouty twist of your lips. If he wants to be that way I’ll just finish myself off and–

Fingers close tightly around your wrist before you can properly touch yourself. “What did I just say, bebé?” ((baby))

“And who are you to tell me what I can and cannot do to and with my own body?” you ask with an arch of your brow. The bite of your words would be more effective, you’re sure, if they weren’t so damn breathy, but there’s little for that.

“Oh, mi amor,” he starts with a chuckle as he pins your hand to the wall beside your head, “you know exactly who I am.” He kisses you then, long and deep, and you find yourself melting under it despite your annoyance.

Damn this man and his silver everything! The thought drags its way through your sex-addled brain as your free hand twists itself in his shirt, though whether the action will lead to you pushing him away or pulling him closer you’re not sure yet, and before you can decide he’s breaking the kiss.

“Get dressed, cariño, we’ve got a party to get back to,” he breathes against your lips before pecking at them again.

“You can at least let me err, calm down some and clean myself up a bit–”

He shakes his head as he pulls away from you. “No, I don’t think so. I want you just like this, baby—all leaky and throbbing and wanting. I want you aching just as much as I am. It’s only fair, after all.”

Eyeing the bulge that’s seriously testing the tensile strength of his zipper you’re inclined to agree, reluctantly though it may be done. After all you are the one that kicked things off. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but now that you’re left to live with the consequences? Yeah, not so much. Fair’s fair, but that doesn’t mean you have to like it. Pouting all the while, you quickly set yourself back to rights—well mostly. Thanks to the hasty tugging of your prior urgency your clothes aren’t hanging like they’re supposed to and won’t be again until they’ve been washed and re-ironed, but there’s nothing to be done about that in the now.

You’re left to silently lament the fact that you’re about to take a mini walk of shame that hasn’t been entirely earned since you didn’t actually get any. Cutting your eyes over at the reason you’re in such a state you find that, aside from his very obvious arousal, the fucker looks as put together as ever.

“You suck, you know that?”

He snorts as he snakes an arm around your waist, guiding you towards the door. “Yeah, I do. I also lick and nip and tease and you love it.”

“Oh fuck you, Escuella.”

“You’d best watch that mouth of yours, mi amor. Just because daddy-dearest can’t take you over his knee anymore doesn’t mean your papi won’t.”

“Promises, promises,” you snark back, though there’s no denying the longing seated in your words.

His only reply is a dark little chuckle that leaves you throbbing with want and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. What’s worse is that you’re about to walk through a party full of all of your friends, and while it’s not the first time they’ve seen you flustered and frazzled like this the situation is still less than ideal. Thankfully the thought of having winks and suggestive comments tossed your way is enough to kill off any lingering lust, but this is going to be a long night either way—or is it?

A plan starts to come together in your mind as you hear Charles’s laughter floating in though the backdoor; he rarely ever laughs loud enough for it to be heard so far away, so you can only imagine what’s been said or done to garner such a reaction. Though his mirth usually runs on the quieter side of things, the man does have a mischievous streak that can almost rival Sean’s, and it’s only common sense and general kindness that keeps him from tapping into it more.

Tonight, however, he’s going to step outside of his self-imposed restrictions—you’ll make sure of it.

After all, your plan relies on it.

“What’s got you laughing so hard, Chuck?”

Charles doesn’t even bother with correcting you as he knows that you’re already well aware of how much he despises that nickname. You’re just looking to get a rise out of him, but unlike your boyfriend, he’s not so easily bated. Though to be fair to Javier, it did take you a good twenty or so minutes to finally break him—maybe more as whatever game it is you two are playing more than like started long before your arrival–

And is set to carry on for a while longer, if the state of them is anything to go by.

He’s hardly surprised to find that the pair of you are looking more disheveled than last you were seen. While Javier’s only slightly mussed, it’s more than obvious that you’ve been taken through your paces. There’s a wrinkle in your clothes that hadn’t been there before and your lips are plush in a way that says you’ve been kissed thoroughly and with a level of enthusiasm that would have left you moaning into the ministration as you grinded into your lover’s palm with needy little ruts of your hips…

He quickly averts his eyes as soon as the thought manifests lest you pick up on the way you’re affecting him—have always affected him, if he’s being honest. And it’s not just you. Javier is dangerously alluring in his own right, and he finds himself falling into his orbit more often than not. He’s never allowed himself to explore whatever it is he feels for either of you as you and Javier have always been a thing, though there’s no point in denying that there’s an attraction there, and a mutual one at that. Javier’s always been the more flirtatious out of the two of you, but when you have a mind to you can fluster him like nobody else. None of you have ever seemed truly interested in taking things beyond that level—yet.

Charles cannot help but to feel that one of these days there’s going to be a shift. The signs are all there, after all; the way you all gravitate towards one another, trading lingering touches and longing looks. Things that he would usually consider an invasion are much welcomed advances when they’re coming from the pair of you and he often finds himself reciprocating without any conscious thought. It’s all so confusing and thrilling and catalyzing that he cannot help but to crave more. Arthur has told him on several occasions to bite the bullet and make a move, but given that he’s dealing with an established couple he’s more than willing to follow your lead on this one.

In the now he gives you a response in the form of a nod towards one of the party’s hosts. Sean is just now scrambling his way back onto the deck (quite literally as he’s opted to climb over the railing instead of using the stairs like a normal person) after an overly-dramatic retelling of one of his more daring exploits had sent him tumbling off of it. Luckily for him the fall was a short one into relatively soft grass, so really it’s only his pride that’s been bruised. Seeing that his audience has increased by two he starts his story from the beginning and the pair of you listen with rapt attention–

Or, rather Javier does. You, however…

It starts out innocently enough, with you slumping against him and resting most of your weight against his shoulder. Charles contemplates draping an arm around you—it wouldn’t be odd of him as it’s a position that you’ve been in countless times before, but he doesn’t want to presume—but before he can think himself into a circle you’re snaking your arm around his waist. Your hold isn’t particularly tight, only really pressing in enough to keep you connected. After a few seconds you start to feather your fingers up and down his side in a move that he would’ve considered innocent if not for the wicked little smile on your face. There and gone in a flash, he finds himself looking at you more fully to be sure of what he saw; all he receives for his troubles, however, is a playful wink that leaves him batting down a burst of nerves.

It seems as if he’s unwittingly become a participant in whatever it is the pair of you have going on. He’s surprised, but he can’t say he’s opposed.

Steeling himself with a sigh, he finally allows his arm to drape across the breadth of your shoulders. The movement catches Javier’s eye from where he stands on Charles’ other side, as does the continued skittering of your hand. His expression as he takes this all in changes by degrees as he assesses you both separately; when looking at you there’s a knowing tint to his gaze that’s clouded with a banked lust, though when his eyes meet the taller man’s stare that knowingness sharpens into appraisal. Had the desire there dissipated Charles would have backed off immediately, but thankfully that isn’t the case. Javier gives you both a smirk that leaves Charles flushing in a way that gives him one more reason to love the dusk of his skin.

It’s apparent that Javier’s happy to let the two of you play, so Charles is content enough to let you do as you will. Your hands move higher and higher with each pass over the waffle-knit of his top until clever fingers are dancing up the back of his neck to gently tangle themselves in his nape. Nails scrape upwards into the loose wave of his hair in a move that nearly has him moaning out loud. He’s just able to bite down on the sound, but there’s nothing to be done for the way the rest of his body betrays him with a shiver. Having his hair played with has always been a weakness of his, but one that not many know of thanks to the boundaries that he’s set in place. The number of people who can say they’ve had the pleasure of obtaining this knowledge are few, and those who’ve gotten such a visceral reaction out of him because of it are fewer still.

Sounds seem to fade away as you continue to lull him with your ministrations, with not even the combined drunken yelling of Sean and Lenny’s conveyed anecdote being enough to pull him out of the stupor. He allows his mind to wander as you work; the images that flash through his head are ones that he usually reserves for hours far later than this one, when he’s alone with an ache between his legs that cannot be abated by anything but imaginings of the only two people who could reduce him to such a base state. His grip on you tightens unconsciously, forcing you more firmly against his chest and you’re quick you mold yourself against him.

Your pace is languid as you work him over with the repetitious scrape. It feels like he’s under the sweetness of your care for a small eternity, and he’s more than happy to stay lost for another eternity still, so when your fingers curl and tighten against his locks and tug there’s really no way for him to stop himself from crying out. Luckily the story has finally reached its end to a cacophony of laughter that’s just loud enough to drown out a sound that’s caught somewhere between a yelp of surprise and a moan. Thankfully everyone’s too drunk and-or preoccupied to notice the way his chest heaves and his eyes darken as he looks at you through heavy lids–

Well, everyone except for Javier. He’d honestly forgotten that the other man’s still here—that anyone’s here, really—but now his presence encompasses all of Charles’ attention.

“Alright, amor, you’ve had your fun,” he tells his partner. His tone speaks of mild amusement, though there is a sliver of something there—something dark and wanting, ravenously so—that leaves their breath hitching. To Charles, “It wasn’t very nice of them, starting something they know they can’t finish– Not tonight, at least. But don’t worry, ‘mano—next time, we got you.”

The words feel like they’re caught somewhere between a promise and a threat, but Charles finds that that only adds to their appeal. The pair of you say your goodbyes then, first to him and then to the group at large. A chorus of wolf-whistles and teases are given in response, with everyone having a pretty good idea of why you’re cutting out early, but if they suspect his role in things they’re kind enough not to mention it.

As Charles watches your retreating forms he runs a shaky hand through the length of his hair only to find that the motion doesn’t bring him the stability that it usually does. How can it, when he can still feel your phantom touch, the exquisite bite of your nails against the sensitive skin of his scalp…

These memories will continue haunt him, he’s sure—unable to be exorcised in full until he’s lying sweat-slicked and sated between two equally worn-out bodies.

“Is this what you wanted, mi amor?”

Javier’s thrusts can only be described as punishing, more so due to depth and force than speed. Your body jolts forwards with every snap of his hips, but the firm hold he has on the scarf that binds your arms keeps you from going too far—not that you want to be anywhere else but here, completely laid bare and at the mercy of the man at your back. The word ‘mercy’ used very loosely here as he is being absolutely ruthless and you’re loving every second of it.

Face down and ass up, he’s had you bent over the desk from nearly the moment you stepped into your bedroom, only stopping long enough to tie your arms behind your back. In all honesty you’re pretty sure this is the true reason he pushed so hard for its inclusion in the room—there’s definitely more appropriate spaces for it—but whatever. It’s not like you can complain when it gets such frequent use.

So yes, this exactly what you want, what you need…

“I asked you a question, baby, and I expect an answer,” he continues on in a low, demanding tone.

You try to reply, you swear you do, but whatever it is you manage to slur out between moans isn’t an adequate enough reply. Javier’s voice drops to something just above a true whisper as he leans more fully against you—close enough that you swear you can feel the beat of his heart against your back, close enough to feel the pant of his breath ghosting over your skin—with the sinuous roll of his hips slowing further.

“Forgot how to use your words already?” he tsks against the shell of your ear. “That’s okay, cariño. I know you wanna be good for me, so I’m gonna help you out…” Taking your confused sounding whimper for the question it is he chuckles before saying, “How? It’s easy—Imma fuck the answer out of you.” ((sweetie))

Before you can fully process his words he’s unwinding his hand from the cloth, pulling back, and pounding into you quick and hard. The feeling has you gasping out his name followed by a babbled yes-yes-YES that leaves him growling out his approval. He calls you his good baby then and the small bit of praise makes your brain fizz as your body reacts on instinct. Eager hips throw themselves back to meet his thrusts; though your positioning doesn’t really allow for much traction your efforts do earn you a few moans and curses of approval, at least.

“Mierda. Look at you. You like being fucked hard, huh? Like me taking you like this?” The words are little more than a rumble with how low his voice has dropped, and the change in timbre leaves you clenching up around him more. “Fuuck babe—that’s it, that’s– Fuck. Yeah, you love this shit. That why you were being such a little tease, yeah? Did you want me to fuck you ‘til you remember who you belong to?” ((shit))

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer this time, choosing instead to take your jaw in hand. His grip is just this side of bruising and well at odds with the gentle way his thumb strokes over your bottom lip. Your tongue snakes out mindlessly to flick at its calloused pad and you hum at the slightly salty taste of his skin. Javier hisses out a curse as you continue to lave over the digit, and you can practically feel his narrow-eyed stare from where it’s sure to be drilling into the back of your skull. Unwilling to relinquish even the least bit of control just yet, his palm slides downwards until it’s resting firmly against your neck. Long fingers easily encase the column, and while he doesn’t squeeze nearly as hard as he had been before there is a definite and steady pressure there. You know he’d sooner hurt himself before he would ever risk truly hurting you, but there’s still something undeniably alluring about feeling like you’re on the edge of something so dark and dangerous.

Your moan is slightly strangled as you lean more heavily into his hand, with your hole clenching especially hard as the oxygen vacates your lungs. In turn Javi grunts at the sensation even as his fingers squeeze just that little bit tighter, and in that moment you’re sure that a death of a different kind is close at hand. Spanish is falling from his lips much faster than your addled mind can ever hope to translate, but when he does finally switch back over to English he’s hardly saying anything you want to hear.

“What?” He gives a particularly hard thrust as you croak out the word, leaving you to damn near choke on it.

“You heard me, amor—don’t. You. Cum. After the shit you pulled tonight did you honestly think I was gonna let you cum so easily?”

Your replying whine is pitiful indeed, not that you actually expect to receive any sort of reprieve at this point. Still, that doesn’t stop you from looking over your shoulder and giving him your best pout. For his part your man mimics your expression, giving your neck a few soothing strokes before allowing his lips to pull off into a devious little smirk.

“Aww, look at you. There’s no need for all that, baby, I’m gonna give you what you want—not that you’ve actually earned it, not yet. You’ve been especially bratty lately; playing all these games, teasing me… I can’t just let that shit slide, so here’s how this is going to work: I’m gonna keep fuckin’ you good ‘n’ hard ‘n’ deep, and you’re gonna take it for as long as I say. When I decide that you’ve learned your lesson I’ll let you cum, and if you go over the edge before then there will be consequences.”

And you know he’s as good as his word.

Despite him saying all of this between pants, sharp curses, and a few breathy moans there’s no way in hell you actually stand a chance of outlasting him. Even if his stamina wasn’t god-tier and his will just as solid, pure pettiness would see him holding out if it meant keeping you on the edge. And as for those ‘consequences’, you cannot even begin to guess at what they may be, but a part of you really, really wants to find out. You’re positive you’ll enjoy it—maybe not as much as him, but you’ll still have your fun.

Before you can make up your mind about whether or not your defiance would be worth it, his hand is leaving your neck to hold your hip steady. You gasp slightly, already lamenting the loss of pressure, only to have the breath knocked out of you by his next thrust. The force of it sends you reeling, with the only thing keeping you from face-planting being the hold your man has on you. Instead your sweat-slicked body is shoved further up the desk in a move that would’ve been extremely uncomfortable if you weren’t already so gone.

Wanting a bit more agency, Javi grabs up the length of cloth that dangles between you; his movements do not falter as he shores up his grip with a few twisting motions before pushing into you again and again and again. He sets up a brutal pace that sees his hip bones digging into the plush of your ass and his balls slapping against you with every forward push. This is the only bit of attention that anything other than your hole has received since leaving the party and you damn near sob at the brief flashes of stimulation.

You’re not even sure what nonsense is pouring out of your mouth at this point, but if it’s anything like the disjointed garble that’s currently floating around in your skull then it’s one flaming wreck of a mess. You can hardly go by Javier’s reaction as you’re pretty sure that you could be singing lullabies and he’d still be into it. He just loves to hear you—it doesn’t particularly matter what sounds you’re making so long as he knows they’re a result of the pleasure he’s bring you. You’re much the same honestly, though listening to him turn the velvety syllables of his native tongue into growls and groans in the heat of his passion is its own type of torture. His voice is already an aphrodisiac in its own right, but when he’s fallen as deeply into his lust as he has into you it becomes something otherworldly.

Your man’s words slowly begin to shift from admonishments for your earlier behavior into praise for “–taking your cock like un buen pequeño amor,” and you can only hope that means you’ll get what you need sooner rather than later. ((a good little love))

Time stops making sense as he continues to take you. You’re both hyperaware of its passage and not, with seconds impossibly feeling like hours, but the minutes they bleed into hardly even registers. Your need for release becomes this all-encompassing thing that dictates your every move, breath, and thought. It creates a thrumming want that invades all of your senses until there’s nothing outside of it. Even Javi’s voice becomes little more than a cluster of sounds that you’re just barely able to perceive, though one phrase breaks through the haze every time he says it:

“Don’t you cum, cariño.”

His words are both boon and bane.

They’re the only bit of sense to be found in the symphony of needy sounds and hammering hearts and the repetitive meeting of flesh, and yet at the same time they are the very chains that hold you back from the one thing you need most. Your body is demanding, screaming, begging for this to end one way or another, and soon. You’re sure that each new thrust will bring about your end, and yet you hold yourself back even as your legs shake from exertion and your arms ache from the strain. Those four words will not allow you to do any less.

When the tension in your arms lessens you honestly think the limbs have finally gone numb, but then you’re being pulled up against Javier’s hard chest and you realize he actually let go of the scarf. The jarring pace he’d been keeping up slows to a gentle roll that makes you grind into him with a desperate whimper before he stills his hips altogether. His lack of movement has you rutting against him like some crazed beast, but the only thing this nets you is a throaty chuckle that makes you throb all the more.

“Tan ansioso,” he breathes against your ear as well-toned arms pin you flush against an equally muscled chest. This leaves you unable to do anything more than whine, much to your annoyance and his continued amusement. “You really want to cum, don’t you?” ((so eager))

“Fuck! Javi, you know I do–”

“Then say the word, mi corazón.” ((sweetheart))

“Please.”

“‘Please’, what?”

“Please let me cum.”

The moan he lets out at your words comes from somewhere deep in his gut making you shiver with your want. The only thing better than hearing him make such deliciously wicked sounds is knowing that you’re their cause. He’s always so quick to tell you that he’s the only one that can make you feel the way that you do—and it’s true, he definitely gotten you addicted to his particular brand of carnality, but it’s fine since you know it goes both ways.

Javier presses a sloppy, open mouthed kiss to your nape before nipping the skin there. “So good,” he purrs as his left hand snakes up to rub at your steadily leaking core. “Un bebé tan bueno para mí.” ((such a good baby for me))

His hand passes through the mess, smearing your arousal further until he’s zeroing in on your most sensitive area; all the while your hips wiggle against him in a desperate bid to rut into his palm properly. Unfortunately the movement does little for either of you aside from frustrating you further.

“There you go, teasing me again.”

“‘M not trying to,” you tell him, “just wanna feel good—wanna make us both feel good…”

Your trailing sigh turns into a moan when he thrust against you again. The movement is spastic, an involuntary response to the way that your walls flutter around him. He swears lowly before releasing you completely and pulling out; the sensation of his thick cock leaving you is good for all of two seconds before you realize that he’s not pushing back into you. For one panicked moment you think that he’s going to leave you tied up and aching, but before you can even form the first syllable of your plea he’s freeing your arms and turning you to face him. It’s the first time you’ve gotten a clear look at him since being bent over the desk and you’re pleased to find that he looks just as much of a mess as you do. Hair mussed, lips parted ever so enticingly, cheeks flushed, and dewy skin glistening so prettily under the warm-hued lights—he’s sex personified in this moment and the sight somehow makes you burn for him all the more.

Javier is drinking you in just as readily, being, as always, especially taken with your mouth. Heavily lidded eyes track your lips movements as you wet them, and when you bite into the plush skin he lets out a shuddering breath. A muttered “Fuck” is all the warning you get before his lips are crashing into yours while hands eagerly grip at your hips to pull you flush to him. The heat of his cock is like a firebrand between you, and the press of it against your skin has you instinctively writhing against it.

Your movements leave him shivering as he exhales harshly—the first sign that his self-control is starting to slip.

“Get on the bed, mi amor—wanna look in your eyes while I fuck you, wanna see you fall apart…” He breathes the words against your lips before taking the bottom one between his teeth just as you had a moment ago. The sting of his bite is soothed away by a swipe of his tongue before he’s kissing you again.

Somehow he has enough presence of mind to get you both moving and soon you feel something solid, yet yielding hitting the back of your legs. You’re just wobbly enough for the disturbance to take you off of your feet and Javier readily follows you down. So close to the one thing you both want, need, the kisses grow sloppier and more hurried. It takes a few moments for you both to get into a more settled position, but as soon as you do he’s lubing up again before pushing into you completely with one long stroke.

Your breath catches at the feeling of being full once again while he lets out a sound that’s half contented sigh, half growl, with the latter completely overtaking the former when you roll your hips up to meet his. The pace he sets is far less grueling than it had been when he was taking you from behind, but it’s no less maddening for the change. Long, deep strokes end with a languid snap that has him hitting something inside of you that leaves you damn near sobbing every time. It doesn’t take long for you to get back to that same level of torturous pleasure that you’d been drowning in minutes before and soon you’re clawing at his back and calling out his name like it’s the only word left in your lexicon.

All the while your eyes are locked with one another’s, mostly at his insistence. When he said that he wanted to see you fall apart he meant it; a firm hand against the side of your face keeps you from turning away while tutting words part your lids whenever they flutter shut for longer than a few seconds.

“You’re doing so well, mi amor, so good,” he tells you. His words are slightly slurred and you know he’s just as drunk on you as you are on him. The thought leaves your walls clenching and he hisses at the added tightness. His pace quickens as he drops his head down into the space between your shoulder and your neck. Kisses, nips, and sucks carve a path upwards until the warmth of his breath is ghosting over your ear. “Touch yourself for me.”

It’s an order that you’re all too happy to follow.

Your fingers quickly move down to work against your sloppy sex and you can only hope that the whole ‘no cumming until I say so’ thing is no longer in effect because if not you are in so much trouble. With everything going on you’re only gonna be able to last about a literal minute and that’s being hella generous and rounding way up, honestly. Javier knows this, knows you and your body damn near better than you do some days. He sees it in the way your eyes glint with desperation, can feel it in the way your whole body tenses just so, can hear it in the pant of breaths that come quicker, shallow. Part of you worries that he’ll drag things out just to punish you further—or worse yet, leave you wound up and wanting—but a bigger part of you knows he’s not that cruel. Javier always makes sure to give you what you need and right now you need to cum, badly, and so does he if the fevered look in his eyes is anything to go by.

“Yes, babe, yes. Just like that, fuck me back—Joder! Tan buena…” His muttered praises become more and more scattered as his hips begin to meet yours faster and faster until— ((fuck! so good))

“Do it for me, mi amor. Cum.”

Your body doesn’t hesitate to follow the simple command, and the orgasm that rocks your frame is almost blinding in its intensity. A wordless cry rips itself from your throat as bliss—white-hot and all-consuming—skitters across your every nerve setting them alight. All the while you hold on to the man that still hovers above you as if he’s the only thing tethering you to this plane, and for all you know he is. After all, you’re pretty sure that one cannot experience something so world-shattering as this and not ascend to some higher form of consciousness, if only for a moment.

For his part, Javier shudders and bucks his way through his own release just as you’re coming to the end of yours. Your nails follow the length of his spine as you watch him fall apart—eyes pinched shut, chest heaving, lips parted under hard pants—he rarely looks more beautiful than when he’s cumming and the sight is one that you’re positive you’ll never get tired of seeing.

Kisses are traded between shaky breaths as you both work your way through the last of the aftershocks. They’re sweet, lingering things that are seemingly at odds with everything that preceded them—only not really as he’s always like this once your games have come to their end. All loved up, he likes to keep you close so that he can dote on you as much as you’ll allow him to. Feeling safe, warm, and sated, gentle strokes of his hands against your cooling flesh and murmured declarations of love are the lullaby that sees you drifting off into slumber.

© thepuckishrogue/TheViperQueen, 2019-2023 || Please do not repost, translate, or otherwise alter or distribute my works without my express permission. And for the love of god keep it away from Youtube and TikTok lol…

#((Immy does fan fiction: The Yeehaws)) #here comes the fiiiiic~ lol #javier escuella x reader #javier escuella x gn!reader #javier escuella x gender neutral reader #javier escuella x you #javier escuella x y/n

[yeehawbvby]

Falling Away With You | Ch. 13

Sebastian x F!Reader and M. Rasmodius x F!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Chapter Summary: Dog boy and farmer girl make up!! :) 

Author’s Note: TW // very brief mention of death and attempted suicide

Table of Contents + Work Summary

Check it out on ao3!

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Summer is here and it is hot. I’m not going outside today.

Since (reluctantly) getting myself dressed earlier, I’ve been just laying in bed, stuffed Eggy under one of my arms, playing video games.  It’s been a while since I’ve just let myself lounge around for a whole day, and I’ve been hankering for some Legend of Lonk lately. 

I wonder if anyone around here is into games. I know Abby is. Allegedly, she struggles so much with Prairie King because she’s more of an RPG type, which I can relate to. But who knows if I’ll ever be close enough with her to play games together?

Just when I’m about to finish up a cutscene, my phone vibrates. Probably a text. I decide to ignore it for now, until realizing it’s still going. Ughhhhh, I hate unprompted phone calls. I pause my game and set the console aside. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, (y/n)…” fuck, it’s Sam. “Sorry to bother ya.”

“Oh, uh, not a bother at all. What’s up?” I sit up, repositioning Eggy to my lap and hugging her.

“Can we meet up somewhere? I wanna… you know. Talk about… uh. You know. Stuff. If you’re willing, of course. If not then don’t worry about it, it’s cool.”

I sigh, quietly. I do miss that puppy-man. And if I’ve been canoodling his best friend, then I should swallow my pride and stop avoiding this. For all of our sakes.

“Yeah, I’d like that actually. You wanna come over?”

He sighs too — a big, relieving one. I almost forgot how animated he is. “Yeah sure, when’s a good time?”

“Whenever you want, I’ll be around all day.” My overwhelmingly hospitable instincts kick in, “Just let me know when you’re headed over. I can make us some cocoa or lemonade or something, if you want.”

“It’s a little hot for hot chocolate,” he laughs, sorta shyly. “But it does sound good.” 

“Fuck, true,” I mentally smack myself on the forehead. “I can make it cold,” I offer. “Or at least try to. Never done it before.”

“That would be great, it’s okay if you don’t feel like it though. I don’t wanna burden you too much,” he trails off. 

“Sam, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”

I hear a nervous laugh on the other end. “Yeah, I guess. Alright. Uh. I guess I’ll head over in a few minutes?”

“Yeah, sounds good to me.” 

“See ya in a bit then, (y/n).”

“See ya, Sam.”

Fuck, this is gonna be so uncomfortable. At least he seems as nervous as I feel.

Letting out a huge groan, I roll – literally roll, from mattress to floor – out of the bed to find a bra and some less bootylicious bottoms to put on.

Something tells me Seb’s talked to Sam about what we’re about to discuss, so I’m sure Sam knows by now I’m not interested in him the way he might’ve thought. I gotta stay cautious, though. Some dudes are fuckin’ creeps who’ll see a little bit of extra skin and think it's free real estate. Experienced that too much in the city.

I’d doubt Sam being like that if I knew him beyond the surface, but I’ve been so unsure of how to feel about that gumball since The Incident. 

I pick out a pair of long gray bike shorts, and throw a sports bra underneath the white, grandpa-esque tourism tee from Ginger Island that I had on already. The ladies are staying hidden, today.

Now, the cocoa… I follow my usual routine, except I leave out the creamer and opt to put the mixture into a pitcher rather than mugs. If I put it in the freezer with some extra ice – better throw in some more mix, so it won’t get watered down – so it’ll hopefully be chilled enough by the time he’s here. 

Aaand now we wait. I sit back on the bed, scooping Cannoli into my lap while my eyes dance around the room. I really need some more furniture in here. At least an extra chair, if I’m gonna keep having people over. Maybe a desk to work at? 

Fuck, wait a sec! This would totally be big enough for a kotatsu if I put the table in the kitchen or outside instead. My weeb ass has always wanted one of those. I’m sure Cannoli would love it, too. 

After a few more moments of interior design contemplation, I get up to pee. Naturally, the moment I sit down, I hear a knock at the door.

“Fuck…” I murmur. “Sorry, one second!” I yell as loud as I can muster. Hopefully he heard that.

I speed-run my little bathroom break and jog to the door, without drying my hands. Shit, what if he gets grossed out by how moist they are? I shake my head, then shake my hands a bit and pat ‘em on my shorts before opening up. 

“Hey–” I’m cut off with a squeak from my own throat as Sam fucking engulfs my body into a hug. 

“Dude you have no idea how bad I feel,” he word-vomits on me. “I’m so sorry!”

I stand there in shock for a moment. I expected more of a serious, awkward conversation. A weird business meeting, of sorts. Should’ve known that the big guy would do things differently. I’m still unsure of whether or not I can really trust him, but I'm willing to try.

“You big dummy...” I mumble into his boobs before squeezing him back. “I was so worried that you hated me.”

“I thought you’d hate me!”

“We’re both dummies.”

“For sure.”

Realizing I’m still talking into his big ol’ honkaroos, I tilt my head out for air. In a southern drawl, I declare, “We’ve got some stuff to discuss, pardner.”

“Mhm, mhm.” He pulls away, albeit still at arms-length and holding onto my shoulders. 

“Pop a squat, I’ll grab the cold cocoa.”

“Cold-co?”

“Oooo I like that,” I shout from the kitchen.

I can’t help but smile at how easy this is so far. Sure, we’ve got some feelings to work out, but I’d let my anxiety get the best of me for the past few weeks for sure.

“Do you want a mug or a glass?”

“Do you have one of those fancy wine cups?” he asks. I peer back and he’s leaning over from the chair at the table. Cannoli missed him too – he’s already curled up in Sam’s lap. 

“I’ll check.” I back up, peering around the cabinets, hoping the space gives me a better angle to see the top shelf with. Grandpa had to have had those… fuck, I don’t feel like climbing. “Actually,” I exhale, “can you check?”

Keeping Cannoli in his arms like a baby, Sam strolls in, looking confused. Then, the lightbulb goes off. He laughs at me and scruffs my hair, reassuring me with a jovial “Sure thing, little guy,” before easily spotting and taking a wine glass from the back of one of my higher shelves. Fucking tall people.

“Damn it.” 

“I can carry you on my shoulders sometime,” he offers. “That way you can, you know…” 

“I hate you.”

“Not that much, if you invited me over.”

“Whatever, fucko.”

He snickers, watching as I prepare our drinks. When I start pouring the creamer, he questions it. 

“Trust me,” I assure. He just shrugs, letting me do my thing. “You want whip?”

“What do I look like, some sort of monster? Of course I want whip.”

“More of a big, fluffy beast than anything.”

Sam scoffs, “I’ll take it over a goblin or shadow brute.”

I hand off his drink, scooping up a pair of swirly straws. I am an adult. “Want a straw too, beast boy?” I offer while holding one out towards him.

Taking it from me, he responds, “See, I can get behind that! Makes me sound like a Teen Titan.”

“That show kicked ass,” I point out as we walk into the other room. “I used to have the fattest crush on Robin.”

We sit down on my bed, both of us cross-legged, both of our backs against the wall. Cannoli fills the space between us. Our mediator.

“I was down bad for Starfire, myself.” He takes a sip, and I inspect for the signature eye twinkle. Theeere it is! Another chocolate beverage well done. “Holy shit this is so good.”

“Told you to trust me!”

He playfully rolls his eyes. “Oh! And Blackfire fucked too.”

“Dude, she was so hot!”

“But so mean…”

“Yeah, and you’re saying you wouldn’t want her to be mean to you?”

He inhales dramatically, contemplating. Then Sam mutters, shrugging, “I’d thank her for beating me up,” before dejectedly sipping some more of his drink.

“Seeeee?”

“Shut up, jeez. I didn’t come here to be perceived.”

“Eh, you kinda did.”

A short silence. “Crud. You’re right.”

We both laugh, and it simmers into another silence.

“So.” 

I turn towards him, leaning my shoulder onto the wall now. He mimics my movement, placing his already empty cup (?!) onto my nightstand and hugging my pillow to his chest. It looks like we’re having a slumber party. This is the best position for sharing some hot goss.

“So…” he sighs, his eyes roaming me. I blush as he either inspects me or checks me out – not sure which it is. “I’ve got some explaining to do, huh?”

I nod and shrug, “I guess.”

He gnaws at his bottom lip, looking down at the pillow, trying to decide on his next choice of words if I had to assume.

“Well, Sebastian told me that he already let you know I was catching feelings, so I don’t have to explain that.”

“Yeeeah… he fill you in on anything else?”

Sam nods. “I’m happy for you guys, by the way. Dunno what’s going on, but it’s cool you two are like… you know.”

“Thanks, Sam,” I shyly smile, scooping my plushie into my arms. God, Eggy takes up so much of me. It’s fine though. She is my protector. “I’m sorry that you kinda got fucked over. You’re really cool and you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy, but,” I shrug. “I just don’t feel the same that you do. I’m sorry.”

He shakes his head, “No, really, it’s all good. I’m usually better with the ladies anyway. It’s about time Seb has better luck than I do.”

“Pfft. All these Pelican Town girls really swoon for ya, don’t they?” I say that half-jokingly. He’s crazy good looking, and he’s nice, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he did well for himself around here.

“I mean, I thought I had a thing with Penny for a while, but that went nowhere.” 

“Aw, really? That would be so cute!”

“Would’ve been cuter if she felt the same way I did.”

“Oof,” I scrunch my nose as I wince. “Unrequited?”

“Nah, she just wasn’t as into me as I was into her, I guess.” He sighs, “It’s starting to be a common theme for me.”

“Heh, whoops,” I apologize as I abandon my cup of coldco onto the floor and hug Eggy tighter, hiding further into her. 

“It worked out for the best. We had different dreams for the future, and whatever.”

“What about Abby?”

“I love her, but more like… as if she were my annoying little sister.” He laughs, “Besides, she’s obsessed with Sebastian. It would never happen even if I wanted to try.”

“Gotcha, gotcha. How’s she feel about me and him, uh…” I pause. Seb and I aren’t dating, per say. “Messing around?” I cringe at my own words. “Gross. Wait.”

Sam howls, “Yoba, you nasty girl.” 

“Shut up! I don’t know what we are, we aren’t dating, exactly!”

“Yeah, yeah, I get you… Uhh. She hates you.”

We lock eyes. He’s wincing but I’m stone cold. “I expected nothing less,” I truthfully admit.

“She’ll come around.”

“I fucking hope so. I don’t exactly love the fact that one of the first people I tried to properly interact with here has made such an enemy out of me.”

“Abby’s young and dumb, but she’ll warm up to you eventually. If not when she’s over it, it’ll happen whenever she finds someone else to occupy her. She dated this chick Sophia once, that was the most tame I’d ever seen her.”

“Girl must be a frickin’ angel.”

“She really was so nice.” 

“Was?”

“Well,” he clicks his tongue, “she was hospitalized for a suicide attempt last year. She lives over in Grampleton, so we never really saw her around here much in the first place. But none of us have seen her at all since that happened.”

“Holy shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I’m sure she’ll be okay.” Sam repositions a little, petting Cannoli for emotional support. “She’s supposed to be inheriting her parents’ vineyard, past the beach, actually. Don’t know if she’ll ever be back to do it.”

“Oh, that’s what that place is?”

“Yeah, have you ever heard of Blue Moon?”

“Shit, I have! That brand is all over Zuzu. It belonged to her parents?”

Sam nods, sadness still washing over his features. “Yeah, but they died in a car crash. Happened a little before Sophia had to… ya know. Go away.” 

I recoil a bit, thinking about how tough shit probably is for that poor girl. “I hope she ends up okay. That sucks so hard.”

“Yeah, me too.” He puts the pillow back behind him, and slaps his palms onto his thighs, keeping them there. “Anyway! I don’t like all this sad junk. Back to business.”

“So you were really gonna kiss me that night, huh?” I blurt out.

“Yeesh. Right to the point.”

“Sorry.” I apologetically shrug. 

“You’re fine, uh… maybe I was?” We look at each other, silence filling the room. I lean over to finish my drink before placing the empty cup back on the ground, and then purse my lips, waiting for him to correct himself. “Fuck. Yes. Yes I was.”

“You know that would’ve been, like, crazy uncomfortable considering I didn’t want to kiss you back, right?”

“Yeah…”

“I don’t want to kiss you, Sam.” 

Although, his lips are super nice… 

No.

Stop it. 

“Oh my god,” he giggles.

“Thanks for not kissing me.”

“Oh my god!”

“No, like, seriously, thank you.” I put my hand on his knee, chuckling. “You have no idea how much weirder I’d feel having you in my house right now, had that happened.”

“Yeah, no problem, whatever! I get it, you don’t like me! I’ll just pine for a… taken?” Sam tilts his head and squints an eye, thinking over the word. “Taken!” He nods, confidently. “A taken lady, for forever.”

“Come on, dude!” I playfully whine, swatting Eggy’s arms in his direction. He flaps his hand in unison with each fuzzy, stuffed paw slap. “To be fair, you’re totally hot. I’m sure if you asked that Victor dude to take you to a Zuzu bar, you’d get laid in no time.”

“You think I’m hot?”

I deadpan at Sam’s face to find him giggling and blushing like a fucking school girl. Sigh. 

“Yeah, I do. You’re like, atrociously hot.” I roll my eyes, in spite of the smile on my face. I'm not lying - he really is, like, so fucking hot honestly. “Don’t make it weird.” I point at him, one of the plushie’s paws still in the same hand.

“That’s so cool oh my god,” he giddily exclaims.

I groan into the back of Eggy’s head. “Sammm!”

“Right, sorry!” he scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I don’t wanna just get laid. I have Palmela for that stuff.”

“Who the fuck is Palmela?”

Sam grins menacingly, waggling his fingers at me, not saying a word.

What?

...Oh.

OH.

Palmela! Seriously?!

“Dude, gross!” I cackle.

“Heheheheh.” He evilly taps his fingertips against those on the opposite hand. I give him a fake-dirty look. “But seriously, I want someone to cuddle, to go on dates with,” he sighs. “Anyone, I don’t even care about gender. I just want someone to care about and feel loved by.”

Aww. I frown. Everyone who wants that deserves it. Especially this fella. Wait… but if he’s not straight…

I excitedly snag one of his hands in both of mine. “So small,” he whispers, thoroughly inspecting my hands. I ignore that comment.

“Sam, have you ever had a crush on Sebastian?” Wide eyed and menacingly, I flash my teeth.

His own eyes widen. He looks down, then back up to my eyes, and then off to the side…and now he’s blushing!!!

“Sam, holy shit! You have!”

“We dated…” he whispers, twitching a brow. Ayo?!

“Samson Henry Johnson, you sly dog!”

“Dude, shut up! We were, like, kids basically, it’s no big deal.”

“What do you mean by kids? How long ago was it?”

“We were in high school.”

“Bro, that was only, what, a decade ago? Little longer maybe?”

“Sweet Yoba above…”

“Is it a forbidden topic, or do I have full permission to be nosy?”

“It’ll be forbidden if you keep being annoying about it!”

I pout. “Boo, you whore.” 

“Wouldn’t not kissing and telling make me less of a whore?”

“Metaphorically speaking, yeah, but…” I shrug. Then, I have an epiphany. “Oh my god wait, did you guys, like, touch tips?!”

“Alright, it’s forbidden!”

“Fuck!”

__________________

I lied. I am going outside today.

After continuing to fill each other in on our previously failed love lives, Sam and I decided to take a walk up to his ex’s house to present the renewal of our friendship. Formally. Bells chime as we enter the gigantic cabin, announcing our arrival. Smells sawdusty – I guess Robin’s been busy.

“Hey, you two! If you’re looking for Sebby, he’s in his lair,” Robin advises. 

“Thanks Robby,” I chirp, as my tall companion and I pass her station.

“Robby?” she laughs. “Gross.”

I crinkle my nose. “Ugh, yeah, sorry. Didn’t have as nice of a ring out loud as it did in my head.”

“You’re tellin’ me!” Robin shouts once we’re out of sight. 

Continuing the assholery, as Sam raps on Seb’s door, I sing, “Sebbyyy.” 

A loud groan echos on the other side. “Stop calling me that shit,” he voices as he nears the door. When he opens it, he does a double take. “Ah. I see The Conversation went well.”

“Hell yeah!” Sam boasts, tossing a strong arm around my shoulder and navigating me inside. “This little lady and I are good as new.”

“And you came here to celebrate? Of all places?” the hot, emo cave goblin inquires. 

“Hell yeah!” Sam echos himself. “Swimmies and sippies season is here,” he chimes, waggling his eyebrows. “Are you down?”

“Can it wait until it’s cooler out?” Seb asks, returning to his desk and typing away. “Like, later tonight, maybe?”

“Absolutely! Who’s buying the sippies though?”

They both look at me, expectantly. I’ve been lost this entire time.

“What in the actual fuck is a swimmies and sippies?”

“Ahh, much to learn, young grasshopper,” Seb calmly states.

“Stop calling me that.”

He chuckles. “Every once in a while, we grab a bunch of drinks and go swimming at the bathhouse. You know, the one up by the train station,” he explains, as I nod. “Hence… swimmies and sippies.”

“I came up with the name!” Sam beams, as he sits on the couch. Of course he did, I think to myself. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I head pat him for a change. Feels good, man. “Of course it does.” Sam leans into my hand, so I continue rubbing his head. He’s literally a giant dog.

“I nominate you to buy,” Seb peers over at Sam. “Not fair to make the newbie do it.”

“You seemed on board with her getting the drinks a second ago!”

“Yeah, I also thought she knew what swimmies and sippies is at that point.” 

I nod, happily, giving the blonde’s scalp another pat before seating myself in front of Seb’s other computer. “Your fault for not filling me in on your plans, buddy.” 

“Man!” He whines. “Fine, I’ll go do that.” Sam gets up, stretching his arms up and behind his head as he makes his way to exit the room.

“Grab your cooler and some ice, too. There’s not much fridge space here.” 

“Anything else, fuckers?” 

“Snacks?” I add.

Sam looks to me and sighs, loud and exasperated. “Drinks, snacks, ice, cooler,” he counts on his fingers. “Got it.”

“Thank youuu~,” Seb calls as Sam leaves the room, flipping us off before swinging the door shut behind him. 

Chin in hands, I lean my elbows on the desk. 

“So… I’ve got a question for ya.”

“What’s up, baby?”

Yoba, my heart can’t take him giving me pet names. I blush and hide my face further into my hands. Fuckin’ loser.

“You guys were quite an item back in the day, yeah?”

He stops typing and snorts into a laugh. “Fuck. He told you about that?”

I hum and nod. “Did ya fuck?”

“Yeah,” he responds coolly, looking awfully tickled. He must not get to talk about this much.

“I knew it!” I practically screech. “That’s so precious. I wonder why he wouldn’t give me any deets.”

“Sam’s not as, uh,” Seb taps his nails onto the desk as he leans into the opposite hand. “In tune with his sexuality.”

“Ah. Explains why he forbade me from talking about it, too.”

“Look, ask me anything you want, and I’ll answer what I can. But keep it quiet, yeah? Lotta homophobes hidden around the valley.” Seb frowns. “And, Sam’s not homophobic towards other people by any means, but he’s still got some internalized shit to un-learn.”

“Ah. Lame, but understandable,” I nod, taking solace in knowing he at least is comfortable enough that he basically came out to me today. “My lips are sealed, sir.” 

I motion as though I’m zipping my mouth, tossing away the “key” after, ‘cause I’m not a monster. In the meantime, Seb groans. I tilt my head inquisitively and he looks my way. His eyes are dark and intense, like he’s invading my fucking soul oh my god.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why not?”

He continues to stare at me, eyes narrowed… Oh!

I gasp, “You naughty bastard! You like that, don’t you?”

“Guilty,” he shrugs, sipping his coffee.

Aaand, just like that, I’m activated. “Sebastian.”

“(Y/n).”

“How much work do you have right now?” 

His eyes dance around the screen a bit before looking in my direction. “Enough. Why?”

“Ughhhhh.” 

“Were you scheming, (y/l/n)?”

“Who, me?” I ask, flicking my wrist as I lilt out my words, all southernly-sounding. “Why I’d nevah!”

Except I totally would, and was. Was gonna like, I dunno… offer a dick suck? Or something. It's easy to forget with how long our tension has been going on that we haven't actually done anything like that, in person at least.

“You're a horrible liar, (y/n).” Sucking in through his teeth, Seb continues his typing. “If I didn’t have so much to catch up on before tonight I’d bend you over that desk right now.” 

Ooooh my god please do, ~sir~. I squeak. Ugh.

“Is that a threat?”

“Sounds like you want it to be.”

He imitates a squeaky toy to prove his point. I (rightfully!) give his shin a kick, and he just laughs and flicks his foot back towards me.

He isn’t wrong though. I want nothing more than that, actually. But, like the little shit I am, I instead respond, “Bold of you to assume such a thing.” 

“What, is it not romantic enough for our first time?” he jests. “Or are you just challenging me for fun, you little perv?” 

“Classified information.” Quick (y/n), change the topic! “This thing still work?” I ask, tapping the monitor in front of me.

“Yeah, you wanna use it?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” When he gives me a nod of approval, I stand up to reach the power button, pressing it and hoping for some RGB as it boots up. There are some — all red — and the poor thing sounds like it’s struggling. “When’s the last time this thing was turned on?”

“Years ago, don’t remember exactly when.” 

I hum, and am met with a black screen and white writing. “Oof. Says something about an improper boot device?”

“Shit. Umm,” he stops typing to think for a second. “Turn it on again, and go to the boot menu, in the BIOS. The right one should be somewhere on the list.”

I follow his directions. “The Windows one, I’m assuming?”

He nods. “Good girl.”

MMMMMM. If I had a tail, it would totally be wagging right now. 

I inhale sharply, trying to contain myself. “Fuck you.”

“Bad girl?” he suggests, raising one of his brows.

“I don’t like it, but sure, that’s better.” 

The computer finally starts up, and I'm surprised to find that it’s not locked by a password. This thing looks empty, though. Must’ve moved all his games and junk to the PC he’s on right now… I do the only reasonable thing to do in a situation like this: open up a browser and download stuff. MapleStory, maybe?

“Hmm, you’re right. I don’t like it either.”

“Good! So don’t use it, forehead.”

“My forehead is beautiful, thank you,” he quips. “What if it was in a different context?”

“What, like,” I clear my throat, “Oh, you’re a bad girl…?” I recite, the attempted deep voice cracking as I speak.

Seb heartily laughs. Adorably. Ughhh. “Yeah, like that.”

“Dunno, never been called that in that way before.”

“Mmm, that’ll be a fun experiment.” 

“There is no reason that should’ve been sexy, and yet…” I trail off.

He chuckles evilly, and I flick the scrunchie on my wrist at him. 

Picking it up from his lap, he holds it up briefly and says, “Cool, thanks.” 

Seb proceeds to (attempt to) put his hair up. Considering how choppy and uneven it is, it ends up being a wonky side-ponytail. 

Unfortunately, he’s still hot.

#sebastian x reader #sebastian #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #magnus rasmodius x reader #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv sebastian x reader #stardew sebastian #sebastian stardew #sebastian headcanons #stardew valley #stardew #sve #sebsatian sdv #sdv wizard #stardew wizard #magnus rasmodius #stardew valley fanfic #stardew valley sebastian x reader #wizard x reader

[the-fiction-witch]

Cards

Media Phantom Halo / My Left Hand Man / Sleep No More

Character Samuel Emmerson

Couple Samuel X Reader

Rating Adorable

Concept Trading Cards

I hurried myself down the street knowing I was running a little late stupid Boss making me clean the bar down that's not even my job but it's over now for another four days. I headed down the still rainy streets until I spotted the boy I was looking for and I jumped into his arms 

"AHH! Hi y/n!"

"Hi Sammy" 

"Particular reason for almost throwing me across the street?"

"Cause I miss you"

"Awww I miss you too. Work okay?"

"I don't wanna talk about it"

"No problem. Did you get paid?"

"I did"

"Okay, me to let's go sort stuff out" he smiled we went to the bank and made sure the money for rent and bills was in the correct account putting our normal budget aside for groceries and counting up our spending money for this week "do we have enough?' he asked excitedly

"Just." I smiled

"Yes!" 

He quickly grabbed my hand and we headed down the streets until we reached out usual little comic book store he of course went straight for his phantom halo comics, I looked around the comics, graphic novels and manga for a while but nothing I liked would be out till next month, so I looked around the plushies, the bags, badges and other such nerdy merch that filled the comic books stores Isles I grabbed a little bowl set designed after some movies we liked mostly because it was reduced and took it to the till Samuel arriving with his comics and I grabbed myself some trading card packs as always we paid and Samuel took the bag excitedly so we headed home to our little apartment it wasn't much but for a first apartment for the two of us it was home. I let him run off with his comics and I started on dinner using up the little of what was left in the cupboards and i brought it to the table "comics down its dinner time"

"Ohh thank you sweetheart" he smiled giving my cheek a kiss as he put stuff away and we had dinner and of course he went straight back to his comics so I got my binder and opened a pack of cards sorting the new into their slots and the doubles onto my trading pile "can I open one?" He asks as he finished a comic 

"Why?'

"You always get so much joy out of it, it's okay if not"

"You can, just be careful"

"I will I'll be gentle"

"Good but not what I meant" I smiled handing him a pack 

"How so?"

"Cards can be addictive Samuel. Their cheap and it's a quick adrenaline rush. And we both know you have a bit of an additive personality flaw in your family'

"True. Maybe I shouldn't then" he says handing it back

"One pack won't hurt. Well do it together" I smiled so we opened it up and flipped through them 

"Ooohh I got a shiny!"

"I already have that one"

"Oh."

"Oooh but I don't have these" I smiled taking the four from the pack I didn't already have and he helped me find their place and add them to my binder 

"I like it. It's nice I imagine satisfying to watch it fill it'

"It is" I smiled 

"One more?" 

"No."

#thomas sangster #tbs imagine #tbs imagines #thomas sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #tbs smut #thomas brodie sangster #thomas brodie sangster imagine #tbs #sam smut #samuel #sam imagine #sam #sammy #samuel imagine #phantom halo smut #phantomhalo #phantom halo #phantom halo imagine #mylefthandman #my left hand man

[silvertsundere]

Silver Talks AniManga (07/05/23)

jump is finally back baby let's go!!! next week marks the last week of this serialization round but very much looking forward to the tall girl

ended up not watching more anime like I said I would last week, there were still 4 more I wanted to check out, but currently watching 5 airing which I think is pretty good considering I hadn't watched anything in almost 4 years, plus all those other shows I wanted to check out are all manga adaptations so I'm putting no hope in them being fully adapted so I don't feel as bad putting them aside

I want to catch up on another manga next but, after that, I want to go through my "watching" list and clean it up of stuff that's been left hanging there for these years, and then make my way through stuff I wanted to see from seasons I missed in that time ANYWAY

blue - finale/completed green - new series/new to me

Anime

Uma Musume - Road to the Top Ep4 (Finale)

what can I say that I haven't already. I love it obviously. I rate things on my mal for personal enjoyment but I usually have a "real" rating for it (like I did for jigokuraku not that long ago), but I can't do it in this case, horses just got too much power over me. I think I teared up in all 4 episodes (maybe not 1 but). it's good, period. the art is good, the animation isn't that special most of the time, but it has a lot of little character acting moments that hit really good, and let's not forget that maenami cut I was gushing about. the music isn't memorable but it served it's purpose, and the voice acting was really good ofc, I especially loved tokui sora's performance as opera, it's nice to see her getting to flex her range instead of always being yazawa nico, but ofc ayabe and topro were really good too. anyway really good, left me really hungry for S3 coming later this year tho I still have to go and watch S2 and even finish S1 tehe

Megumin Ep5

honestly this ep felt a lot like a finale, tho there's still 7 more left anyway the explosion scene was pretty cool also megumin x yunyun is quite good, good to see they'll keep feeding me since they'll be goofing around together for a bit longer

Imas CG: U149 Ep5

good episode (ofc), was wondering where they'd take it with risa being such a daddy's girl but she surprised me also the insert song was beyond the starlight (deresute's 1st anni song) so I was losing my gourd as soond as I heard the first couple notes god bless

Mashle Ep5

decent episode, dot's explosion magic looked decent enough, tho speaking of him I didn't expect him to sound like this at ALL, I thought it was gonna be something more high pitched like bakugou. also they teased the lang baddies, which is when this starts shifting more into an action series with a sprinkle of comedy instead of the opposite, which is nice, even if they're all over the op lol

Pokemon Horizons Ep5

nice little ep, the roy scene before this pic was cute. next ep should be more exciting, including the appearance of a brand new mon, like riko's pendant turtle from before

Jigokuraku Ep6

good episode, was really nice to finally see sagiri's first time to shine, and now they're finally at the village, I forgot about the rokurouta fight so I thought they were getting here earlier tehe. it also ended on the gay sex scene so that was very nice I figured the village was gonna be the cliffhanger but that's a really good one too, they really went IN on animating the tongue-fu, anyway curious to see who'll voice mei, she's very cute

Manga

Do Retry Ch1

that line in the pic below is the title of the one shot for this btw anyway. nice first chapter, the art is really striking with it's thick outlines which makes sense since the author was an assistant to matsui too. it's also a period piece which would be funny if it was cause of matsui too. good solid first chap, no complaints for me, did it's job of setting up the story, the main character and his motivations without getting too distracted with other things. we haven't had a sports manga in a while (I don't count blue box as one) so we'll see how long it'll stay around, or how sportsy it'll be in the first place lol

Dandadan Ch104

the vamola backstory continues, I thought this was gonna be the last ch but I guess not. it's been decent tho it could've been shorter imo

Show-ha Shoten! Ch18

VERY good chap, one of the best so far tbh, it's nice to see azemichi making a stand for himself, even if he's stumbling a bit. next chap should be pretty exciting but waiting a whole month is painful

One Punch Man Ch181

just an aftermath chap of the saitama tatsu fight, not really much going on. however I did read the jp raws for the next chap and it has a buncha cute tatsumakis so that's very good

Pension Life Vampire Ch4 - 5

apparently I completely missed ch4 OOPS. anyway, cute chaps like usual, going even more in on the yuri cause of this new girl here. it's nice that eri's moving in, opens the door for a lot more Situations

Tokyo Underworld Ch39

ok chap tho not much happened, the action was p dece but that's about it. the ending cliffhanger is something tho

The Ichinose Family's Deadly Sins Ch23

another eh... chap, they show him waking up but considering the previous pages it's gotta be not real right? anyway it needs to hurry up and end already, feels like it's just dragging on on purpose now

Fabricant 100 Ch20

the final battle is finally here, not much more left now, prob just enough to finish filling a vol

Witch Watch Ch107

GREAT chap, I didn't expect them to continue straight from the last one, much less to go this far right away, very excited to see what happens next week with that ending

Kill Blue Ch3

nice chap overall, not much to say, good to see we'll have some more action next week too

Blue Box Ch99

TAIKI MY BOY they grow up so fast 😢, I was already hyped for ch100 but with them dropping this right at the end I'm even more pogged up now holy

Cipher Academy Ch22

as much as I like cipher this felt a lot like a final chap, and it's been doing badly in ratings lately, so there's probably no hope of it making a comeback like medaka did back in the day it's sad that jump readers can't appreciate nisio's work and we get things like roboco running for a billion years instead sigh

Mashle Ch154

good chap, had that good balance of action and comedy that mashle is really good at, still gonna be a handful more chaps of the final boss

Tenmaku Cinema Ch4

nice chap, it's always nice to see someone's passion for something be apparent in their work like it has been in tenmaku

Undead Unluck Ch157

nice chap, like I said last time it's good that not everything is going according to fuuko's plan and seeing her struggle and overcome these unexpected situations is good. looking forward to the (possible) addition of a milf to the cast

Sakamoto Days Ch117

good to see them learning from sakamoto's example tho this being a flashback arc is annoying cause we know rion dies so every time something happens I'm just expecting it to be now argh

The Elusive Samurai Ch108

very good chap, good to see tokiyuki make up with yorishige after that argument a couple chaps ago and in such a meaningful way too also the colour page is beautiful but I'll put it on it's own post

Akane-banashi Ch60

good chap as usual, I've been waiting a long time for the dad to come back into the fray since he's such a big deal for akane's whole character, excited to see where this goes and her growth from it

Ayakashi Triangle Ch129

good chap, especially with those plot complications at the end making things not as simple as they seemed at first

#silver talks animanga

[rafescoke]

All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, hella angst, JJ being an extreme asshole

A/N: you guys are truly amazing. thank you so much for the countless amount of love & support for my last works, i love you! 

p.s, my request box is always open! go ahead and drop any ideas bae

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay?”

(Y/N) emitted a laugh, her eyes focusing on the road, but her mind was somewhere else. She cleared her throat, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Want to talk about it?” he said, and she noticed the grogginess behind his voice. She felt bad now, knowing that she had woken him up, but she was desperate for someone.

She couldn’t go to the pogues; her only friends, not when they knew. They knew all along about Kie and JJ but they didn’t try to talk to her. She thought about Pope, how he had looked so nervous around her since a month ago and how she had thought of it as nothing more than anxiety for his new upcoming scholarship application.

(Y/N) groaned, tightening her fingers around the steering wheel. Why had she been so naive? Why couldn’t she realize the signs sooner?

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked, suddenly jolting up from his bed when he realized how quiet she has gotten. Ever since they got close 4 years ago, there was never a long silence between them as (Y/N) always has a random topic to discuss about. He would tell her that he doesn’t care, but he truly likes the new information she’ll give him.

Like how the word ‘who’ is the oldest English word in the world. 

“Like, the owl?” he asked, scrunching his face. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, licking the slowly melting ice cream, and Rafe had a sudden thought of stealing her snack.

“No. God, you’re stupid. It’s who.”

“Yeah, the owl,” he grunted, thinking hard. (Y/N) looked at him with her bored eyes again, and Rafe took a quick glance at the dripping ice cream.

“No, Rafe, that’s woo. I’m talking about who.”

“You should write it.”

Rafe watched as she used her pointer to write the word ‘who’ on the table using her ice cream. Rafe laughed, finally understanding the joke, and he smiled wider when she returned a grin.

“No,” her voice croaked, and she could feel her tears slowly rolling down her red cheeks. God, she felt stupid. Why would she cry over stupid stuff like this? She had told Rafe before that she couldn’t understand why Bella Swan was too sad over Edward’s flight, saying how Bella had Jacob all along to help her get over him. Rafe rolled his eyes at this statement, muttering something along the words of ‘this is a movie’, ‘Edward is hotter’, and ‘Jacob look like that cashier guy at the hardware store’.

But she understood everything clearly now because she too, felt like staying in her room for the rest of her life. 

“What happened? Do you need me to pick you up?” Rafe asked again, finally standing up from his bed and walking towards his bedside table to retrieve his car keys. He rubbed his eyes, still so tired, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

“It’s alright, Rafe, you don’t have to pick me up, it’s just, um-” she took a deep breath, “Can I come over?”

Rafe stopped in his tracks, not sure if he had heard her right. He waited for a few seconds, “Huh?”

“Can I come over?” (Y/N) bit her lips, making a turn towards the road heading to Figure 8 from the Cut. The road was deserted, and she looked at the dashboard to check on the time.

2.43 a.m.

“Yeah, sure, um, when are you coming? I just have to wait for you, so you know the new passcode of the backdoor.”

“You guys changed it already?” she asked, and she was surprised to find a smile creeping onto her face. “When was the last time I came over? 2 months ago?”

“9,” Rafe muttered, “But it’s okay. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she released a breath, “Thank you, Rafe.”

“Yeah,” was all he said before ending the line.

Maybe she did missed him. 

When she arrived before the white building of the Camerons’ household, she could see a figure sitting on the front porch, bending over something that (Y/N) assumed to be a phone.

Rafe was mindlessly playing Candy Crush, just starting on his third level when he heard a car door being shut. He jumped to his feet, ready to greet the girl, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of her.

She was still in her party clothes, her (H/C) hair in a messy ponytail and her makeup all smudged. He tried to think of a joke, wanting to lighten up the mood, but his deed was interrupted when she finally had him in a tight hug.

“Whoa,” Rafe exclaimed, putting his arms around her waist. He let her stayed in that position for a few more seconds, liking the warmth, and finally parted after he cleared his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, um-” she sighed, not looking into his eyes. “I got cheated on.”

Rafe was glued to his spot as he watched her wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking down to her glittery blue slippers. He couldn’t remember the amount of times he had prayed for his (Y/N) and JJ to call it off, but he didn’t hope for any kind of cheating to occur.

“I’m so sorry,” Rafe said, pulling her into a hug again. He rested his chin against the top of her head, letting the scent of strawberry wafted into his nostrils. (Y/N) cried against his chest, her face all scrunched up, and when she pulled away for the second time, she noticed the tear stains on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she rushed, trying to remove the stain using her fingers even though she knew it was impossible. She was too tired to think logically; she felt like laying in bed and watching Love Island until the day she dies.

“You’re still stupid, even when you’re all fucked up,” Rafe sighed, but he watched her from the corners of his eyes in case his words had struck her, but she looked like she understood the joke. She smiled weakly, pulling on the hem of her dress that had rode up down.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling her by her wrist as he guided her through the backdoor to his room. He showed her the new passcode proudly, mouthing how it was his birthday date this time, and (Y/N) had emitted a small laugh.

Screw maybe, she did missed him.

“And still a mess,” she sighed, plopping onto Rafe’s blue bedsheet as she took a look around the room. The painting of a random boat in the middle of an ocean was still askewed, and his trash can were piling up. She made a face, pointing at the cause of disturbance.

“You have to clean that.”

“Sorry I couldn’t let you stay in our five stars suite, ma’am,” he said, finding an old t-shirt in his cupboard. “You know, since you barged in this hotel at this time, all there’s left is the 3 stars suite.”

“You’re calling this a 3 stars suite?” she laughed, tilting her head to one side. “Rafe, this room can’t even be rated.”

“Whatever,” he pulled out a yellow t-shirt, putting it aside before looking for a new pair of boxers. “Is your room still pink with that weird strawberry pound cake smell?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, crossing her legs. She was glad there were no crumbs on the bed, or else she would rather sleep in her car. “And that smell’s great. My sensory organs are blocked by all the dust you’re collecting in here.”

Rafe grinned, liking how she was back to her old self, and handed her the pair of boxers and the yellow t-shirt. (Y/N) muttered a quick thanks, her feet lightly padding against the carpeted floor towards his bathroom. She closed the door, leaning against the sink, watching her reflection in the mirror.

She did look miserable, and her eyes were all red and puffy. She always hate how puffy her eyes would get after a nice session of crying, having to endure the pain of soothing it down again. 

She shook her head, not wanting to spend anymore time thinking about JJ or Kie or the pogues who had betrayed her, and tried to reach for the zip of her dress. After a few good tries she sighed, relaxing her cramped arms. The familiar yet uneasy pain coursed through her veins, and without wanting to abuse herself anymore, she turned the doorknob.

“Rafe? Can you help me?”

“Huh? Yeah,” he came to the door, closing his eyes before he halted right in front of the object. “Are you naked?”

“No, can’t seem to be, too. Can you help me unzip?”

Rafe opened his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quickening, and with trembling hands, slowly unzipped her dress and stopping directly at the curve of her bottoms, silently admiring the view. 

He cleared his throat, shaking his head at the childish behaviour he just found himself in. “Yeah, done.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” she smiled, and turned to close the door again. Rafe listened to her breathing in the bathroom for a few more seconds, knowing how hard she was trying to ignore the aching feeling eating off of her. He wished he could take her pain away an make it his, knowing that at least he’ll have an excuse to snort more coke to ‘forget the pain’. 

When she got out of the bathroom, Rafe had to stop himself from drooling over her in his shirt and boxers. She always look good, but she had never looked better in nothing but his yellow shirt and his boxers. 

Rafe closed the light, remembering how she hates sleeping with any form of light either it’s tiny or big, and settled himself on the sofa. He wanted to give her space, not wanting to rush anything, knowing how tired she must felt from all the things she had to endure today.

“Rafe, we’re not 10. You can sleep on the same bed as I am,” she sighed, turning to face the other side. Rafe stood up, thanking the gods above, and settled for his new room.

“We never sleep in the same bed before,” he said, pulling the covers to shield himself from the cold. (Y/N) snorted at this statement, still not looking at him or even turning to face him.

The closest thing they have done to sleep right next to each other was in the car during a road trip, and when they woke up, they were both throwing disgusted faces and pretending to vomit.

“Stop it, you guys look stupid,” Sarah groaned, giving them a quick look over her shoulder. Rafe pulled his middle finger from under the blanket he was sharing with (Y/N), causing her to snort and struggling to hide her laugh.

. . .

“So yeah, that’s how you hit it.”

“You’re bluffing,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, taking over the club and watching the small hole in the distance, squinting her eyes. She took a step back, licked her teeth, and gave Topper the club back.

“See? I told you I’m right!” he exclaimed happily, clasping his hands together. He returned to the game, focusing on his goal, and hit the golf ball.

“That’s fine, I guess,” (Y/N) announced when he came back to the resting area, “For beginners.”

Rafe snorted, downing his mineral water before handing Topper the same bottle. Topper grunted at him, muttering how it’s unhygienic, but he took a full swing of it anyways, being so thirsty after sitting under the sun for hours long.

“We’re glad you’re back with us, (Y/N),” Topper smiled, removing his cap and fanning himself with the clothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at Rafe’s expression, he quickly shut his mouth.

He wanted to ask her if she ever missed their old clique when she was with the pogues, but Rafe knew better. It had been 3 weeks since the incidence, and she had been doing so well in coping with the situation. They had been inseparable ever since, always attached to the hips everywhere they go; he couldn’t let one tiny mistake slip that can cause her another breakdown.

“Hey,” Kelce jogged to them, smiling apologetically at Rafe and Topper before placing a quick kiss on (Y/N) ‘s cheeks. (Y/N) smiled, knowing how sweet and gentle Kelce is, almost glad he still does the same thing to her even after they had not been hanging out for a year.

“You’re not dressed for the occasion,” Topper rolled his eyes, “And late. We’re already packing up, man.”

“I know, but I’m wondering if you guys would like to listen to Cage The Elephant this evening by the beach,” he explained, still heaving from his previous activity. He had drove straight from his home to the country club after getting 4 tickets to the show, excited to show his friends what he had gotten for her.

(Y/N) snorted, throwing her arms into the air. “Fuck off, Kelce. There’s no way they’re coming down to Obx.”

Kelce sighed, taking out his phone before showing her the proof in his photos. (Y/N) grinned, trying to contain herself, and looked at Rafe who seemed to be smiling as well.

“Thanks, Kelce,” she laughed, pulling him into a hug. They made her happy, and all the negative thoughts she had about them during her brief friendship with the pogues suddenly evaporating into the air. She squealed, jumping wildly, and she swore she has never felt this happy before.

Just them four. Like the old times.

Four hours later, (Y/N) took a step back when they arrived at the beach, the memory of what happened three weeks ago suddenly rewinding in her head. Rafe noticed how quiet she had been, and pulled her aside while Topper and Kelce went to check on the stage.

“Are you okay?”

(Y/N) bit her lips, nodding. She ran her fingers over the penguin charm Rafe had gotten her a week prior, saying how it resembles him when he sees her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him during that surprising moment, touched yet confused at the story behind the penguin charm.

“Okay. Do you need a drink?” he asked again, staring into her eyes. She shook her head, wetting her lips and putting on her usual smile. Rafe grinned at her, muttering how she’s doing so good, all while guiding her towards their two other friends.

“(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) turned to look at the source, not thinking much. She almost fell to the ground when she saw the person responsible, but Rafe still had his arms around her. He turned to check on her again, but followed her gaze when he noticed she was staring at the opposite direction.

“What the fuck?” Rafe yelled, pushing JJ’s chest with so much anger that he toppled over to John B. Sarah yelped, pulling Kie to her side, watching as her brother walked towards them furiously. 

“Chill, man, I just want to talk to her,” he said, taking a deep breath. He noticed the crowd starting to notice them, and his eyes landed on a certain girl who was held up by Topper and Kelce, both asking if she was okay.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Rafe said, his eyes stern as he stared over JJ and his group of friends. “You have nothing to say to her.”

As he turned to return to his friends, his chest heaving from the near-fight he almost encounter with JJ, he bended to (Y/N)’s height to check on her state. Her eyes were glassy, her face red.

“So you’re fucking them all now like a whore?” JJ shouted, loud enough for everyone else around them to gasp, and some already had their phones out. (Y/N) was shocked at this statement, frozen on her feet, not knowing what on earth would make JJ say that to her.

He was never mean to her, even when they had a fight. He yelled at her sometimes, sure, but she had been the one yelling first. He never called her anything of that sort, not even during sex, where she had given him her full consent.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, her lips trembling. “Go to hell.”

“No, no, because it has always been easy for you, right? You broke up with me, got on with Rafe, leave your own friends and come back to the country clubs?” he laughed, and she flinched at his words. If JJ had meant the pogues as her friends, then he was totally wrong.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Topper stepped out, and before he could finish his sentence, JJ landed a full punch on his face, causing him to fall onto the ground with a thud.

(Y/N) screamed, getting to his side as Rafe returned JJ’s gesture. Topper laid on the ground with his nose starting to bleed, causing (Y/N) to panic while she rummaged through Rafe’s backpack he had left on the ground for clean tissues.

Topper groaned, keep wanting to get up, but (Y/N) held him in place, not letting her friend go and hurt himself more just for her. She cried while she tried to wipe the blood, hearing the fight behind her.

“Fuck you! You stupid pogue! You should be in jail like your dad!”

Something cracked in JJ as he yelled something back in pure anger. He punched, kicked, slapped and hit Rafe who was already on the ground, spitting blood.

“JJ! That’s enough,” Pope pulled him back, trying to contain the wild animal as he thrashed to escape. He yelled more curses at Rafe while Pope tried his best to pull him away, obviously not done with hitting the boy laying on the ground.

(Y/N) cried, running towards Rafe’s side, cupping his face and looking into his swollen eyes. She groaned when Rafe’s laugh filled the air, not believing how he was still joking in a state like this.

“I’m okay,” he said, his breath ragged. “Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Rafe stood up slowly and looked at the direction of the still thrasing JJ, hearing his muffled shouts with his arms around (Y/N) ‘s waist. He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, still trembling.

“Let’s go home?” he asked, and (Y/N) didn’t need to be told twice to follow him into his car. As disappointed as she was that she didn’t get the chance to see her favourite band, she wanted to take care of Rafe, who had been there since the day she found out about Kie and JJ.

The clock struck 12 in the morning and the grandfather clock in the living room chimed as Rafe groaned, feeling a certain girl with trembling hands and tired eyes gently wiping a cotton pad across his cut. 

“Fuck! I said slowly,” he grunted, closing his eyes to decrease the pain. (Y/N) bit her lips, trying to concentrate all the while trying to contain her laugh. He hissed again when she dabbed on his cut, this time with his fingers gripping tightly around her wrist.

“I said slowly.”

“I’m doing it slow, asshole,” she smiled, and felt him softened when she finally threw the last cotton pad. She pulled the covers to his chin, fixing the front part of hair before going to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she came back, she found him still awake with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

“I really need you to sleep,” she sighed, “To heal your pretty face.”

Rafe grinned and though (Y/N) tried her hardest not to smile back, she couldn’t deny the warm feeling settling in the pits of her stomach. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

There was no use denying it anymore.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, getting into the space beside him. “Even when you are all fucked up.”

(Y/N) could sense his smile even when she didn’t look at him, knowing how soft he usually end up being when she compliments him. She turned to look at him.

“Are you serious about not wanting a girlfriend?”

Rafe turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. His insides exclaimed happily, liking the way his words had struck her. He meant what he said, but that statement didn’t apply to (Y/N). 

“Why?”

“Just asking,” she shrugged, and made a move to touch his cut. He hissed, feeling a sharp pain soaring in him, but she looked so peaceful trying to figure out his wound.

“You can kiss them to make them feel better,” he grinned, and watched as she groaned, trying to hide her face against the pillow. Rafe laughed, and turned the lamp beside him off, knowing that he shouldn’t push it and leave her be.

Just as he was about to drift into a peaceful sleep, he felt her soft lips against his, to which it was quick and gentle before she pulled away, giggling.

“4 years.”

“Huh?” (Y/N) questioned, still smiling from the kiss she just initiated a few seconds ago. She couldn’t contain herself; he looked so peaceful, so sweet, and so handsome. She didn’t know why she hadn’t kissed him sooner.

“I waited for that since 4 years ago.”

“Now you’re just pushing it, Rafe.”

Rafe grinned against the darkness, and felt his heart soaring. “Can we kiss again?”

“Tomorrow,” she stated, and Rafe laughed.

Tomorrrow. The next day. Next week. 

He didn’t care - as long as he will finally have her by his side. 

-

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[whatifyoulivelikethat]

weird, m | ksj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader

summary: Your roommate and best friend, Kim Seokjin, forgot to double-check the autofill information and shipped his package from the online sex shop with your name on it. Naturally, this ends with you tying him up and sucking his dick, and him tying you up with you riding him like a wild animal. Wait, what?

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; friends with benefits; crack (sorry, I can't be serious for more than two seconds when writing Seokjin); yes, reader usually fucks younger dudes XD; smut (fem reader, D/s dynamics (both switches), bondage, m-receiving oral, thigh riding, cowgirl, spanking); non-idol!BTS - just two best friends fucking for sexual exploration, don't mind them

technically a prequel to love roulette, m | myg yes, this is the explanation to that mysterious package, but is it really an explanation or rather an excuse to fuck WWH, you decide

--

“Seokjin, can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

When Kim Seokjin looked at you, it was a bit like looking into the eyes someone much younger than you even though he wasn’t. He had that youth about him, the ‘here’s-to-never-growing-up’ sparkle in his large brown eyes, complete with parted lips in a small ‘o’ and, alright, yes, his Nintendo Switch in his hands.

“A long time ago, I asked you which way you think you lean, more dominant or more submissive, no?”

His handsome face flushed pink, slowly scooting away from you.

“Er… yeah, I remember…”

“What?”

“Huh?”

You poked him and he squeaked, slapping a hand over his side even though he was wearing a brown sweatshirt. Seokjin was always cold, even during the summer.

Your best friend was an odd character.

You chuckled. “Why are you being so awkward? I thought we were over this phase.”

Well, he should be. You had known Seokjin since elementary school and seen him, er, date was a strong word for what you both were doing in middle and high school, more like being bumbling messes and walking in on each other bonking classmates, but, hey, what mattered is that you both got better at it over the years.

It being sex.

Not romance.

You both still had only sketchy ideas about what romance was supposed to be.

“We are,” your best friend coughed, clearing his throat for absolutely no reason. “We are, I just…”

“Used my name for purchasing goods from an online sex shop?”

He choked and nearly flung his Switch. You caught it, swiftly placing it on the coffee table as you procured the cardboard box from behind your back, already open, address and name circled in thick black permanent marker on the rather inconspicuous package.

“W-What, that’s absurd, why would I ever–?”

You hummed pleasantly, sweeping the box away from his lanky limbs and his flailing hands. For someone who didn’t purchase goods from an online sex shop, he sure was interested in getting the box. He tumbled into your lap, and quickly scrambled back, black hair suddenly fluffed and wild from the movement.

“Something tells me you didn’t check the autocomplete form before clicking submit.”

You saw Seokjin choke on air.

He jerked away from you and fumbled with his phone beside him. You peeked over his broad shoulder and saw that he was scrolling through his emails like a madman, except Seokjin had a bad habit of never deleting any. He had maybe fifteen thousand unread emails to sort though.

“You don’t have to check. I am sure I didn’t order red cotton bondage rope and a leather flogger.”

Seokjin whipped his head around, face redder than a tomato, looking halfway between fainting and screaming.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is it for you or a mysterious imaginary girl that you’re dating?”

Now your best friend seemed to be contemplating holding his own breath until he passed out to avoid your questioning.

“I-It’s not for me!”

“Oooh, then who? You’re not an internet hookup kind of guy though… unless she was dumb enough to put her full name as her username, then she’s too airheaded to be a catfish–”

Seokjin flapped his hands, smacking you in your pajama-covered chest, sputtering. “No one! There’s no one! I just…!”

You caught one of his wrists, raising an eyebrow.

“Just?”

He froze.

Silence.

“… Seokjin?”

You left go of his hand. It stayed there, frozen in the air.

Ah, it seemed as if his soul left his body.

Rest in peace Kim Seokjin. You were the handsomest best friend one could ask for.

You prodded him in the side again and Seokjin doubled over, trying to cover his face with the large sleeves of his sweatshirt, long legs in black sweatpants curling up as if he could cocoon himself away from the conversation.

“Seokjin, you can be interested in whatever you want,” you snickered, placing the package next to his fetal positioned body. “I simply thought it was funny that you accidentally used my name. Although I wouldn’t use that flogger on a real person, only for posing in pictures. In any case, have fun being freaky by yourself and not for some mysterious woman you refuse to tell me about.”

You stood up, about to leave and give your best friend some space. You shouldn’t go too far teasing him after all.

“What do you mean?”

You stopped, looking back. Seokjin’s large brown eyes were peeking out of his splayed fingers, shifting awkwardly when you made eye contact. He cleared his throat. He was doing that a lot for someone who seemed perfectly healthy ten minutes ago, shrieking at himself for missing the ledge in his game and dying.

It had seemed like a good time to interrupt and embarrass him so you could save your eardrums.

He coughed and pointed to the box. “About the… um… whip… thingmabob…”

You cocked an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You marched over and opened the box, making Seokjin jolt and cover his red ears instinctively, but you ignored him, pulling out the black pleather flogger you had already unwrapped from the plastic – purely from thinking it was your own package, by the way, no other reason, surely not because you were mildly curious about what your best friend was into, nope – and you slapped the short three tails into your hand, wincing.

“This kind of cheap material is too plastic-like. If you use this on bare skin and hit too hard, you’re going to cut someone and I know you’re squeamish around blood, unless you secretly have a blood fetish too and have been a really good actor all this time–”

“How do you know that?”

You blinked at his question.

“What?”

Seokjin sat up, giving you a confused pout. “Why do you know something like that?”

Now it was your turn to shift your eyes around.

“Uh…”

Er… how to tell your best friend that the younger guy you were casually fucking for the past couple of weeks was, ah, rather knowledgeable about certain things, was, um, interested in teaching, uh, yeah, teaching…

Seokjin squinted at you suspiciously. “Is it that idol trainee that was here two nights ago when I was out drinking with Hose–”

You waved your hands very quickly, tossing the flog aside carelessly and slapping your thigh to silence Seokjin and his far too invasive questions. “Look. I just don’t want you to hurt anybody on accident, okay? Your rope choice was good though. You should always use an organic material for shibari, cotton, hemp, linen if you’re rich, but you’re a cheapskate, so–”

Your best friend narrowed his eyes into slits. “How much younger is that guy compared to you again? Hm? And what was his name? Ye–”

You slapped a hand over Seokjin’s mouth, smiling sweetly and dangerously, reaching into the box and pulling out the red cotton rope.

“I know a lot of knots now and I can tie a noose just for you, Seokjinnie.”

Your best friend, rightfully so, looked terrified.

“Now. Let’s talk about you, okay? Okay.”

You removed your hand and held onto the rope.

Seokjin gulped, but then shook his head vigorously, frowning. “What did you call it?” He was already moving past your death threat. Smart man.

“Call what?”

“Shi-something?”

“Shibari? Japanese rope tying?” You lifted the cotton cord in your hand. “Is that not what this is for?”

Seokjin blinked very rapidly.

You blinked back at him. Then it dawned onto you. “The diamond-y rope patterns where they’re all tied up and stuff.”

“Ah! Yeah! That!”

“You want that done to you?”

Seokjin jerked to one side. “What? No! To someone else. Maybe. No. What?”

You slowly placed the rope on his lap and scooted away.

“Uh… huh. Okay. Enjoy.”

“Wait,” he blurted.

“What?”

“CanIpracticeonyou?”

“Can you WHAT?” you echoed shrilly.

“Right, yeah, okay, never mind–”

-

“Seokjin.”

Your best friend choked on his own toothbrush and threw himself into the bathroom wall, colliding into the towel bar and howling in pain while simultaneously hacking up a lung.

“I’ve decided I am going to teach you some simple knots to prevent me from having to pick your naked ass up from the police station or hospital,” you said calmly as Seokjin half-died on the floor tangled in your mint green and his navy-blue bath towels. “And because I don’t want to have to cut some poor girl off your bedframe because you’ve blacked out running onto your door trying to find me.”

“I’ve never–” he wheezed.

“But you will if I don’t take precautions,” you cut in, grabbing your purple toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it as Seokjin attempted to collect himself off the ground. “Like that one time you ran into the window when that wasp was in the apartment.”

“That was a fucking wasp, you freaked out too!”

You started brushing your teeth. “Yeah, but I didn’t knock myself out and wake up with a fat bump on my forehead. That was you,” you gargled.

“Ack…”

“Anyway, I know a few things and I figured I would do a good deed and enlighten you.”

“Who taught you? Was it Ye–”

You jabbed Seokjin forcefully in the ribs and he immediately shut up because he choked on his toothbrush again.

-

“Why do you have scissors?”

“For cutting the rope.”

“Yeah, but why are they so big?”

“That’s what she said.”

Seokjin narrowed his eyes. “I hate you.”

“Cool, now I’m gonna tie you up. Give me your hands.”

You unwound the end from the bolt and frowned, nudging his knee with yours. You were both sitting on his bed, him cross legged and you on your knees because he was wearing black sweatpants and you were wearing no pants, just your usual large lavender pajama shirt with a pattern of yellow stars.

“Take off your sweatshirt. It’ll get in the way.”

“But I’m cold.”

“You won’t be because apparently this shit turns you on,” you snickered.

“Shut up, it does not. It’s the other way around,” Seokjin grumbled, yanking his chocolate brown sweatshirt over his head.

You paused.

“I thought you were more sub.”

Seokjin froze, head half-out of his sweatshirt. You waited. He didn’t move. You waited some more. He coughed and chucked the article of clothing aside, yanking his white t-shirt down and smoothing his hair, not looking at you.

You waited.

He smoothed his hair for a full two minutes.

“Um, anyway–”

You planted a hand on his knee and Seokjin tried to chop your hand away, only for you to snatch his wrist, so his other hand came up to stop you, but you wound the end of the rope around his wrist and bounced off his mattress, pinning your knees on top of his knees and making him squeak as he tumbled back into his pillows, bringing you with him. You had to jerk your head out of the way to avoid collision.

“My nuts!”

“I didn’t hit your precious nuts, you numbsku–”

Hang on.

You locked eyes with Seokjin under you, who gawked back at you, absolutely terrified.

“… You are still a sub.”

Seokjin winced. “Ugh, it’s just… I’m getting older, alright? I can change my mind…”

You could get off him. You could let it be. You totally could.

But were you going to?

No.

You straddled his abdomen and brought his hands to his chest with a big grin. Seokjin’s eyes turned into giant brown saucers. He looked ready to pass out and not from your weight because you weren’t putting much weight on him.

“W-W-What are y-you d-doing?!” he shrieked.

You rapped him in the forehead. “Teaching. Pay attention. Hands up.”

“You aren’t taking your rings off?”

He was referring to the three silver rings you wore on a daily basis – an onyx stone on your left middle finger, a goat-head shaped ring on your right thumb, and a skull with a jester hat on your right ring finger.

You raised an eyebrow. “Why do I need to take them off?”

He lifted his hands and gave you an exaggerated shrug in between your thighs. Come to think of it, Seokjin had a rather broad chest so you had to spread your legs pretty wide to accommodate and hover over him.

Precarious.

“Ah, perfect.”

Your best friend yelped as you wrapped the rope around his wrists, leaving the end sticking out between them, first focusing on loosely binding. He tried to break away, but you harshly squeezed his sides with your thighs, narrowing your eyes.

“Stop squirming.”

He froze at your cold tone, shifting his eyes awkwardly.

“Watch. Now.”

His eyes immediately snapped to your hands.

“Wrists together.” You nudged them so the inner parts of the wrists were touching. “A little space in the center,” you added, looping out the end of the rope. “I’m just teaching you how I learned it, there are a few ways, but the details are important so you don’t prevent loss of circulation,” you added seriously, waiting for him to nod before continuing. “So, wind it around a couple times, but don’t overlap. Four or five?”

“But I can still get out.”

You glared at him. Seokjin shut up and jammed his plush pink lips together, shaking his head rapidly as if to say, who me? I wasn’t talking!

“Turn it ninety degrees like this,” you demonstrated. “And start going perpendicular to and in between the wrists to create the binding. Line up each coil side by side. Mind the starting end here. Then…” You reached for the scissors and snipped the excess away, dropping the rope and scissors beside you on the bed. “You tie it off on the outside. I use a square knot, so this end over this end, and then retie it the opposite way. Try to break free.”

Seokjin frowned at the red rope around his wrists, twisting it this way and that, squirming underneath your legs. You put your hands on your waist triumphantly, nodding to yourself in pride. You did a good job! It looked neat and it was inescapable without tightening on any blood vessels to cause any dangerous loss of circulation.

Hang on.

Seokjin froze.

You froze.

You both looked down.

You smacked him in the cheek.

“Ow!”

“What are you looking there for?!”

“Why did you hit me? Why do you always resort to violence?!” Seokjin accused, jabbing you underneath your breasts with his bound hands. “What is going on down there?”

“Nothing! Stop moving!”

“No!”

“You–”

You closed your thighs around Seokjin’s waist and sat down on him, causing him to gasp, wind knocked out of him as his diaphragm was pushed up into his lungs, struggling with the rope between his wrists and resorting to slamming them down on the bed above his head. You growled as you towered over him. He started yelling, as he always did.

“Yah!”

You slapped your free hand over his mouth.

“Silence.”

He glared at you behind your palm, breathing hard. You sat on top of him, breathing just as hard. He was bigger, strong, yes, but not in the position of power and – being honest, after all – your best friend was never really out to fight you and win. He was more of a ‘I’m-going-to-be-stupidly-annoying-until-you-do-what-I-want’ type, which made him rather childish in some ways. You were more of the ‘I’m-gonna-beat-your-ass’ type.

In conclusion, it was a healthy friendship.

Seokjin started licking your palm and making crazy eyes at you.

Your eye twitched.

“Stop it.”

Unsurprisingly, he did not, in fact, stop it.

“I said, stop it.”

And you slid down, past the wet spot now on his t-shirt, planting your soaked panties on top of his crotch, grinding down, and, yup, Seokjin bucked and yelped, immediately stopping and seizing up as if he could hide the massive erection that you had been willing to ignore but he was being a little – nah, actually, an extra-large, supersized – shit and it was getting on your last nerve, so what better way to resolve a wordless argument (on his part, heh) then humping his hard-on?

You removed your hand and Seokjin had a brief moment to gasp your name before you slid the pads of your fingers onto his tongue, rubbing it roughly and making his eyes nearly bulge out of his head.

“I told you to stop, but you aren’t listening,” you snarled.

Seokjin whimpered, brown orbs glassy, pupils blown out.

You stilled.

Hold on a second.

You had a brief epiphany where you realized you were grinding on your best friend’s dick with him tied up and you were wetter than the Yellow Sea. This wasn’t some guy you picked up at the night market that won you that sleeping Pikachu at the claw machines, only to chat him up and end up with bed with a guy who was – ack, never mind his age – anyway, this was your best friend.

Kim Seokjin.

Oh shit, I’ve gone too far.

You let go, backing up. “S… Sorry, I–”

But then Seokjin’s plush lips closed around your fingers, sucking hard and you choked slightly, feeling his hips roll and the tip of his clothed erection hit your covered clit. He was glaring at you. You gasped as his teeth gently but firmly caught your two fingers. It did hurt, but only a little. Mostly it sent a rush of rather uncomfortable and mind-boggling arousal racing from your knuckles to your core, drenching your panties further.

“Don’t stop,” he mumbled around your fingers.

Don’t stop?

DON’T STOP?

His teeth let go, panting, staring into your eyes.

“Don’t make this weird,” Seokjin muttered, shifting his gaze. “Don’t make this weird, okay?”

His brown eyes flickered back to you. His bound hands were still over his head, black hair flaring out of his pillows, white t-shirt messed up, still trapped between your thighs. You paused, fingers slipping out of his lips, the pads trailing on his lower lip, turning it glossy with his saliva.

Your heart was racing fast.

He furrowed his dark brows and, for the first time, his serious expression made you think that perhaps, maybe, there was a side of him down there, the other side to the coin.

“I just…” Seokjin exhaled slowly, not looking away from you. “I trust you to do this. You’re capable and knowledgeable. I know you are. Word gets around with your, er, habits with younger guys…”

You felt your cheeks heat and you scratched your head awkwardly.

“Anyway, it’s fine if you wanna… er… get off. With me. Because I’m so handsome and all.”

You were thiiiiiiis close to leaving out of sheer embarrassment that instantly dissipated at Seokjin’s sudden unexpected self-compliment. Instead, your eye twitched and you squinted in annoyance.

Seokjin coughed, ears singeing bright red. “Unless you can’t, of course. Because it’s easy to fall in love with me, and that would be very bad considering I don’t want to marry you–”

“I don’t want to marry you either,” you snapped. “You’re ugly.”

Seokjin gasped dramatically, highly offended. “How dare you–!”

He abruptly sat up and you twisted back, only for his arms to swing over your head and sandwich you between his tied wrists and his chest, ramming you back onto his lap and his hard dick. You hissed and bit down your moan, not willing to admit it was mildly turning you on, because of course neither you or Seokjin hated each other – only in that classic way best friends hate and love each other at the same time – and, yeah, sure, you could admit Seokjin was handsome and cute and fun to be around, but he wasn’t the one, not that you knew what the one was supposed to feel like or knew if you would ever feel such an intense, romantic love, but you had this strange idea that the one for you would be someone who could understand you on a different level, and you didn’t have that with Seokjin even if you did talk all the time. You were quite sure the feeling was mutual and now, looking into his brown eyes with a scowl, you saw that the feeling was indeed mutual.

Also, Seokjin was an immature shithead.

A loveable, worldwide handsome, immature shithead. Redeemable.

Still.

You were horny.

And Seokjin was horny.

You weren’t going to date Seokjin ever, but your best friend was hot as hell and you could definitely bang him without any regrets.

“Let’s fuck,” he breathed into your face.

You raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t make it weird.”

Don’t make it weird, yeah, okaaay dude–

Your thoughts were suddenly cut off when Seokjin kissed you.

His forearms closed in behind your back and he pressed his bound wrists into your shoulder blades, pushing you into his solid chest and his embrace, taking your breath away. He always had good hugs, even if they were just to comfort you when your favorite flavor of ice lollys stopped being stocked at your local grocery store – still tragic to this day – and even when he was clinging onto you like a howling monkey because a cockroach was in the bathroom and he was screaming at you to kill it and nearly blowing out your eardrums, even then…

Now.

You closed your legs in around his hips and rolled your crotch into him, suddenly kissing him back.

He gasped into your mouth, your eyes half-opening, him gazing back at you, long lashes and dark eyebrows and glowing tan skin, holy shit, your best friend was handsome as fuck, why did other men even try when Kim Seokjin existed?

“Are you falling in love with me because I’m so handsome?” Seokjin teased, nipping at your lower lip.

Your eye twitched. Oh, yes, that’s right, because you’re annoying.

You shoved him and he yelped, clutching your back as you both fell onto the bed with a flump! You slid out from under his arms, skin prickling at Seokjin’s involuntary whine at your departure. Don’t make this weird, yeah, okay, don’t turn me on this much, dumbass, you are reminding me of… You pushed the thought away.

You didn’t want to think about other people when the person you were touching was right in front of you.

“What are you – yah!”

You gripped the waistband of his sweatpants and yanked down, exposing his underwear – bright blue, nice, nice – and his clothed erection, leaning in, hot breath ghosting over it, Seokjin jerking his arms about because he seemed undecided on either if he wanted to see or not see, but you let him deal with that in his own time, lowering your mouth, tongue extended, fingers splayed over his hips, silver rings glinting in his bedroom lights.

“You look like a demon,” you heard from above you.

You planted your tongue on the spot where the head of his cock would be and soaked it with saliva.

“F-Fuck!”

That shut him up real quick.

Your eyes drifted up, lapping slowly, barely stimulating the sensitive head through his underwear, closing your lips around it so the fabric clung wetly to the taut skin underneath. His cock swelled and twitched under your mouth; the action was mirrored by Seokjin’s jaw. He was clenching it along with his hands balled into fists, gasping for breath.

“O-Oh, f-fuck…!”

You were beginning to get the hint with each passing second of working your tongue around his rapidly hardening cock. Seokjin had put himself in the sub category when you asked back then because he liked to things being done for him. It was less about the mental aspect and more of the physical acts of service in his case. However, he wasn’t very good at articulating what he wanted and thus the natural pattern of someone just doing it led to, ah, exhibit A.

You currently parting your lips and letting your tongue snake out, coating the length with saliva.

But.

You could see it in his eyes, that burning intensity.

Maybe part of it was because it was you. He probably didn’t have those butterfly jitters of trying to woo a stranger or the nervousness of looking bad in the honeymoon phase of a relationship. There was already a level of comfort – and the ability to readily shit-talk each other at any moment – and so Seokjin was free to relax, even if it was a bizarre situation of sexual discovery.

“Take it off,” he growled.

Your fingers creeped up his sides, hooking over his boxer briefs. Slow, deliberate, kissing up his length, on the tightrope, dominant in your control, submissive in the action, raising your head so Seokjin could lift his hips, feathering kisses on the exposed skin and making him hiss and shudder, eyelids fluttering, slipping into subservience a little.

At the end of the day, who killed the unwanted bugs in your shared apartment?

Yeah, you.

“Oh, f… fucking shit…”

You tilted your head and ran your tongue up and down the length, licking up the sides and circling around the thick head, bordering on frustratingly soft, switching to wet, sloppy kisses when his hands raised, making him pause, gazing down at you curiously and attentively, entranced by the action. You ducked down, tongue slurping around his balls, lifting his cock, kissing, sucking, eyes closing, tip of your wet muscle drawing zig-zag patterns that soft skin.

Seokjin moaned your name.

A shiver of electricity went up your spine.

Alright, fine, you were getting turned on.

You wrapped your lips around his balls and enveloped them both with your mouth.

“Whoa!”

You opened your eyes to see Seokjin staring wide-eyed at you, hands straight up to stare at you between his upper arms. You almost laughed at the hilarious triangular-looking pose, but your mouth was currently full, so you restrained yourself.

“That’s possible?! You can put both nuts in your mouth at the same time?!”

Uh.

Where you supposed to respond with your cheeks stuffed with his nutties?

You hummed casually in response.

“A-Ah…!”

Seokjin gasped at the vibrations and the movement of your tongue slapping all over them, short, rapid licks all over his skin, watching him with a cocked eyebrow, but he didn’t even notice, hands dropping and moaning to the ceiling, his eyes closing and savoring the hot wet warmth and the power of your mouth, shivering as your hand slowly stroked his length in time with your tongue.

You let him bask in it before detaching and swallowing his cock.

“Gah!”

Seokjiinie, you thought wryly, we gotta work on your repertoire of sex sounds.

You spied him looking down at you, so you paused around the swollen head and slid your tongue out, circling and wrapping around his length while sucking on the tip and rubbing the back of your tongue along the underside.

Seokjin made a bunch of weird croaking noises that were, strangely, rather attractive. Okay, you could admit it. You were kind of a sucker for your best friend in the most platonic way possible… while in the middle of sucking his dick.

What?

He was handsome!

You began to bob your head up and down, tongue and lips descending, taking him deep so you kissed the base of his cock, head buried in your throat, waiting for him to glance down at you, hazy brown orbs under lush lashes, and you would peek your tongue out and lap at his balls, interrupting the tightness, causing him to swear and jerk his hips up, urging you to keep consistent speed and pace, all the while watching every single movement of your tongue. You kept this irregular pace, slow, then fast, then slow again when he looked at you, then fast when the ecstasy was too much and he closed his eyes, over and over. You could see that a battle was being waged Seokjin’s pretty head, between wanting to observe the lewdness of you licking his balls with his hard cock buried in your throat while also desperately needing to get to the fuck off.

“You… bitch… suck me off properly, fuck…”

You raised all the way so only the head was in your mouth and sucked, rubbing up and around it, swirling all over, teasing the slit and soaking the sensitive skin, rutting it against the roof of your mouth and Seokjin groaned, pressing his head back into the pillows, black hair covering his eyes, fists pressed to his chest.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, please, let me cum!”

His hips rammed up and you dug your nails into them, wincing as the head hit the top of your throat and slid down, cutting off your air, and then he began to thrust erratically, the position, inability to use his hands as leverage, and your resistance not letting him set up a good rhythm. You had to force him back down, popping your mouth off, snarling.

“I’m gonna gag if you do that! You want me to vomit on your dick or what?”

But all of a sudden Seokjin sat up again, grabbing your pajama shirt and yanking you to him, saliva dripping down your chin and then it was on his chin, a messy, savage kiss, ravenous need in his actions, pulling you to him, close, closer, you twisting and then gasping as he pushed one of your thighs down, planting your soaked panties on the exposed part of his thigh.

“Ah, Seok–”

He attacked your lips again with a light growl, sparks shooting across your skin, his thigh rising and bouncing you both on the bed, his legs still tangled in his pants and underwear but the effect was undeniable.

Seokjin was making you ride his thigh.

Whoa.

He bit your lower lip and sucked hard, your eyes fluttering closed, hips rocking, heat turning hotter, wet turning wetter, your sticky, sweet juices clinging to his upper thigh, your own pressed against his saliva-covered cock, wrapping your arms around him, close, closer, you thrusting your tongue in his mouth and him moaning before he did the same to you, starting a tug of war, rubbing harder against his skin, his muscle tensing against your covered clit, friction and wetness everywhere, too many clothes and no eye contact, one of your hands slipping into his black locks and tilting his head, deepening the kiss and inhaling his exhale, shuddering at the erotic nature of the moment.

He mumbled your name against your lips, still clutching your pajamas, stars bunched in his hands, fingertips pressed into the curve of your breasts.

“Can I try the rope tying now?” Seokjin whispered, voice gravelly and low.

-

“Excuse me?”

There was a ripped-open condom wrapper sitting on the bed.

“What?”

Your pajama shirt, bra, and panties were on the floor, along with Seokjin’s shirt, sweatpants, and underwear.

“Why are you – gah!”

You sucked in a breath as you sank down on his cock. Fuck, it was tight, tight as you lowered yourself onto his hips, Seokjin gasping and clutching the long length of red cotton rope that you had carefully untied from his wrists. You had even taken the extra step to massage them afterward, not that he needed it because of your careful work – good job, past you – but he appreciated it all the same, because deep down Kim Seokjin was a prince.

“Oh my God, you’re so tight, shit, shit, shit…”

You neglected to tell your best friend that you were both low-key proud of and turned on by your own ability to take dick without much foreplay. That little edge of tightness added just the right amount of spice of pain that amplified to the pleasure.

Okay.

And yes, you felt a special kind of glee as you witnessed Seokjin’s stunned shock and near passed-out expression from being inside you.

You held out your wrists and grinned. “Go ahead. Tie me up.”

Seokjin gawked at you like you had three heads.

You squeezed your breasts together with your upper arms, tilting your head with a devilish grin.

“God, you’re so hot, but you look crazy,” he wheezed.

Your grin dropped and your eye twitched. “Is that supposed to be a compliment or…?”

Seokjin shrugged, and moved your hands so they were in the better position for him. Much to your annoyance, he didn’t elaborate.

“Um, let’s see, you left a bit out to use as a tie and…”

You began to rock your hips.

“H-Hey!”

The side of your lips curved upward. “What? We’re multitasking.”

“We–?” Seokjin choked, gritting his teeth as you pulsed around his hard length, rolling your hips gently, adjusting until you found a comfortable spot so the head hit you in just the right spot, ah, yes, right there, spreading your fingers out over his chest, leaning your forehead against his, not quite going full force but a slow, deliberate rhythm that wasn’t going to make either of you cum, but, damn, did it feel good.

Seokjin shuddered, gasping your name.

“Tie me up, Seokjin,” you murmured back, caressing his skin.

His eyes darted up, saturated with lust, searching your eyes, and you gazed back.

You could be a real jerk right now.

His hot exhale washed over your lips, a shudder of nervousness.

But this was your best friend, and he was trusting you.

You tilted your head and kissed him softly, flush against his plush lips.

“Come on,” you nudged his nose lightly. “Do it.”

You viewed him from under your lashes. He shivered. Almost.

He needed only one more little push.

“Want you, Seokjinnie,” you breathed against his skin, hints of need and desperation in your voice.

A small smile danced on his lips, staring into your eyes.

You might have fallen for him a little bit in that moment.

“Okay.”

He kissed the side of your mouth, a teasing little peck, and you smirked, turning your head so you wouldn’t break the image you had created for him, but he was already looking down, busily occupied with your wrists, so you drew back, focusing instead on riding him, closing your eyes. You built a leisurely, pleasurable pace, leaning forward a bit to rub your clit against the base of his cock, sighing contentedly at the way he filled you, a wonderful, thick, satisfying girth that you could get used to, other than the fact that most of the time Seokjin drove you up the wall, but, hey, maybe if both of you reached a certain age and you were still single, maybe you could marry your best friend solely for having accessible dick…

“Ah! Perfect.”

You cracked open one eye.

And tried not to burst out laughing.

“Erm… well…” you coughed, tugging at the rope a little. It looked messy and rather hideous, parts overlapping and twisting awkwardly, but he had the… basic idea? It wasn’t like you were going to do anything dumb anyway, so it was pretty good for a first time.

Seokjin frowned. “I don’t know how you did it so neatly…”

“You line up the coils next to each other – ah!”

He seemed to think that was good enough and grabbed handfuls of your ass, causing you to tip forward and brace your hands against his chest, gasping as his hips thrust up into you, abrupt pleasure blooming up your core, sudden squelch of wetness between your joined hips.

“Come on,” he grunted, clenching his jaw, tone getting deeper and more dangerous with each word. “I have to get off, and now.”

He smacked his hands down on your ass and you almost whimpered.

Almost.

Seokjin drew back a little, giving you a strange look.

“W… What?” you managed to get out.

He tilted his head. “Do you like that?”

You almost said, no, of course not, but you stopped yourself, looking down at the red rope tied around your wrists, heat flaring in your cheeks, ass stinging slightly from his slap.

His cock twitched inside you.

Your eyes flickered up to him. A sly smirk danced on your lips.

“Yeah. I like the things you do to me.”

You saw Seokjin pause, brown eyes widening a little, black hair over his forehead.

You pushed him down on the bed. He gasped, but he was used to it now, gripping your ass and tipping his head back as you began to really ride him, waving your hips to ram his cock into your pussy, not even noticing the moan seeping from your lips, fuck, it was good, fulfilling and deep, your bound hands on his chest, fingers spread out and nails digging into his skin a little, but Seokjin seemed to be into it, his own nails sinking into your ass, pushing you down with every descent, hitting you harder, rougher, intensifying the pleasure, building onto it. Hot breath, warm skin, joined hips, loud slaps, rocking bedframe, your breasts bouncing with each thrust, gazing at each other through half-lidded eyes, not quite seeing each other but drowning in the gratification, the roughness, gasping sharply as his open palm smacked down on your ass again, making it bounce and jiggle in his hands, your core and thighs squeezing tighter, witnessing his tight hiss of desire, mesmerized by your sound so he did it again, spanking the other cheek, and you did it again, whimper creeping out, arousal consuming his handsome features, intoxicated by your reaction to his action so he did it again and again, hard, stinging slaps as you rode his stiff, quivering cock harder and faster, fuck, Seokjin must be incredibly turned on because he was so fucking hard, just so incredibly sexy how hard he was right now, even the pain was nothing but an injection of added carnal pleasure, throwing your head back and sinking your nails into his skin, fucking him recklessly, forgetting about hiding your moans, who the fuck cared, not you and not him because Seokjin too was crying out, the sinful sound of sex echoing off his bedroom walls, except instead of you in your bedroom putting headphones on to drown him out, you were in his bedroom, doing it, fucking the daylights out of him.

Alright.

You could see why girls wanted to date your best friend now.

Seokjin was a loud dork, but he had a great dick.

“F-Fuck, Seokjin, fuck!”

He had a similar response, although it was more a choked garble of your name mixed with, “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum, fuck!”

You must really be drunk on his dick because even that turned you on and tipped you over the edge.

Your thighs tensed and you moaned deeply, tucking your chin down and spreading your palms onto his pecs, wrists straining against the cotton rope, a rapid torrent of adrenaline soaring through you and then you smacked your ass down onto Seokjin’s crotch, whining as you came in vicious pulses of pleasure, clenching around his jerking length and you realized Seokjin was clutching your ass, pinning it down so you couldn’t move, shooting his release into the condom, so much that you felt his cock shudder and throb inside you, head buried in your deepest, most pleasurable spot, you feeling all of him and him feeling all of you.

Holy shit.

You almost saw stars.

“Hah… wow… I guess I can’t blame younger dudes for wanting this pussy…”

Your eyes weren’t open but your eyebrow twitched in annoyance.

“Shut up, Seokjin.”

-

“Come on, man! Look what you did!” Seokjin barked accusingly, pointing to his chest with red indents of your rings.

“Excuse me? I’m the one who has scratches and a bruised ass!”

“You’ve marred my beautiful skin! I should fine you!”

“Where’s that fuckin’ whip – get your naked ass back here, Kim Seokjin!”

-

Hm, well, maybe you would find your true love some other time. Maybe try gambling?

--

masterpost

#seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #kim seokjin smut #kim seokjin x reader #kim seokjin x you

[kimnjss]

just hanging out | jjk

⤑  series: cherry pickers

⤑ pairing: gamer(fuckboi)!jungkook x video vixen(virgin)!reader

⤑ genre: fluff!... some angst at the end if you squint.

⤑ rating: pg13

⤑ word count: 3.9K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: lmao second hand embarrassment probably.

⤑ A/N: hey :( love you all who have been enjoying this story nd sending your thoughts in - they really make my day. so thank youu! let me know what you think x 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 16:49

Casual. You're constantly reminding yourself the entire time you're getting ready. This was supposed to be casual. This was not a date. So there was no reason for you to go through the process of getting ready for a date. You didn't shave, just took a regular shower with the regular soaps. 

Spent very little time in the mirror when getting dressed, there was no need for frilly shirts or form-fitting pants. Instead, you settled for a pair of ripped jeans and a hoodie that Taehyung had lost a little while back. Minimum makeup, hair up, and out of your face.

Needed to cement it in your mind that this was not a date. Steal away any reason for you to act like it was one. No matter how much you knew you'd enjoy the whole shebang, candlelit dinner, romantic walk admiring the night sky, kiss on the doorstep – you had to ignore that.

Bottle it up and stuff it down because there were many things you didn't know about Jungkook and the bits you did know weren't great. His shitty friends being at the top of the list. So, until you were sure he wasn't like the lot of them... not dates were what you'd settle for. Because at the end of the day, you wanted to see him.

It's a thirty-minute drive from your house to Jungkook's and you spend the entire car ride agonizing on how this 'not date' was going to turn out. And then immediately scolding yourself for freaking out over something that shouldn't matter as much as you were making it out to be.

For all you knew, he probably was just waking up... barely remembering that he had plans with you. Most likely hopping in the shower just minutes before you were said to arrive. Mmh, Jungkook in the shower. Droplets of water rolling over his tone skin, following the dips and ridges until...

It's hard to shake the image of Jungkook showering out of your head once you've got it there. Even with his insistent need to wear baggy clothes, it didn't take a detective to see that the kid was ripped. No doubt spent hours in the gym working on his arms, his abs, his thighs...

Nope. Not going there. No reason to go there when you were on your way to hang out, innocently hang out with a guy that you were just barely friends with. That's all it was. Two people getting to know each other after clicking the first time they talked. God, the way you clicked with Jungkook was unbelievable. 

He made you laugh. And it was weird because you don't remember ever feeling this comfortable around someone this quickly. Jungkook was different. At least you hoped he was. Instantly, you're shushing your thoughts. Refusing to mentally put so much pressure on something that more than likely become nothing.

Getting your hopes up too early was the reason why people got hurt in the first place. So this wasn't a date. And you weren't going to expect him to treat it as such. Just hanging out to get to know each other. That was it.

That was it. Your new mantra as you shove your car into park, heading up the walkway to his front door. Knocking while repeating those four words to yourself. Casual. That was it.

You're not even waiting a full minute before the front door is being pulled open, revealing a fresh-looking Jungkook. Dark hair falling in pretty waves, on either side of his pretty face. He seems to be glowing and you feel it throughout your entire body when he smiles.

A baggy pink sweatshirt swallows his figure, paired with equally loose gray sweatpants. His house is spotless when he lets you in, obvious that he spent the duration of the morning cleaning. The smell of Lysol still lingered in the air. Even the white socks on his feet seemed oddly clean.

You can't help but smile at the effort, allowing yourself to believe that all the trouble was for you.

Once he's setting your shoes in his extremely organized coat closet, he's leading you through the house. Smiling big as he gives you a mini-tour of the first floor and you swear you're paying attention. You're trying your best at least, but it's hard to concentrate on anything that wasn't how cute he looked.

“And this is the arcade,” He's showing off both rows of teeth with his broad gesture into the room located at the end of the hall. Obviously proud of this part of the tour.

As he should be. When the kid said arcade, that's exactly what he meant. Old school game machines lined the walls, ones that you'd actually find in an arcade. Some games that you've never heard of before. All with the high score name: 'Koo'. A dramatic two-person car racing game tucked in the corner.

There's a curved 90 inch TV mounted on the wall, in front of it on a stand is every game console ever made. He has his laptop set up in the room, with two monitors and two gaming chairs in front of it. In the middle of the room is the most comfortable L shaped couch.

All you can say is, “Whoa.” And he's laughing at your reaction.

“It's my favorite room in the house. Well... aside from,” His eyes shift up, obviously gesturing to upstairs where his bedroom is.

The insinuation has a blush darkening your cheeks, but you choose to ignore it, stepping further into the room with a tiny gasp. “You have Skee-ball!?” He's right behind you as you rush across to the room to where the game is set up. A manicured nail pressing against the start button, grinning wide up at him as the balls roll down.

Bright red numbers flash on the screen, the high score followed by his name: 310...Koo. A smirk instantly settling onto your features as you reach for one of the bright-colored balls. “I'm gonna beat that,” Lifting a finger to point at the numbers on the screen.

Jungkook is letting a loud laugh leave his lips, a pretty smile settling on his features as the sound dies down. “That took me two weeks... good luck,” Drawing your hand back, you release the ball on the swing. Watching as it travels upward toward the slots, dropping right into the gutter.

It takes four throws before you're getting it right, the ball traveling up the slope and directly into the 40 point slot. You're letting out a loud whoop, arms lifting in slight victory.

Eyes wide, you're turning your head to face him. “You saw that!?” You're shocked that he's already looking at you. With this soft lovey look that you were the one to hang the stars in the sky. And it makes you wish that this was a date because if it were you'd be able to let yourself enjoy the feeling that comes with the way that he's looking at you.

But it's not a date. So you don't. Shove the fuzzy feeling away with a shake of your head, reaching for another ball from the rack and thrusting it forward. 

FEBRUARY 22ND, 2020 | 18:08

Jungkook is scary good at games. Like scary good. If he wasn't matching your score, he was doubling it. Didn't even graze his high score in Skee-ball and every game after that was his domain. And he was having fun beating you, the smile growing on his face each time you were crossing your arms with a pout – claiming the game had to be rigged.

Foosball to Car Racing to Dance Dance Revolution (he had way more rhythm than you'd expect). You've settled down quite a bit since you first showed up at his house, finding it easy to relax around him. He was cute when he got competitive, not like you were much of a competition in these games... but it was nice to see him like this.

The scrunch of his nose as he focused on the screen. The cute dimples that popped out whenever he won. And how he mindlessly sat close to you, engulfing you in his sweet scent. There was just something about being with Jungkook that made you feel at ease, could someone who made you that comfortable really be as bad as his trash friends?

His shoulder brushes against yours as he settles further into the comfort of his couch, his thumbs moving over the controller quickly. Implementing combo after to defeat your character. In the fourth round of Mortal Kombat and you've only one once.

“Hey! You said you'd let me win,” He's laughing, not even letting your character get up before the large K.O. letters appear on the screen and his person is giving their little victory remark. A dramatic huff leaves your lips, the controller being tossed to the side to cross your arms over your chest.

All he wants to do is lean in and kiss that pout off your lips. Has wanted to kiss you since he beat you in table tennis. You're so pretty and he can't hold back from moving closer to you, guiding your movements just so he can have an excuse to touch you. And he doesn't miss the way you blush. The cute giggles that you let out when he flirts with you. Making him want to flirt with you more just so he can hear the sound.

“I tried,” He speaks through a laugh, taking in the skeptical look on your face. “I did! You're just so bad,” His eyes watch your fingers move around the controller, switching the screen to the character choice.

Gasping when his words sink in, landing dainty punches onto his shoulder. “You're mean! Rematch. I'm not bad,” Jungkook's pressing start on the game as soon as you both have picked your characters, leaning back against the couch as he instantly starts trying out combos on you.

Your whines and protests are cute. It's all he can focus on when he's supposed to be paying attention to the game. And the shout of triumph you let out when you're managing to knock his character down squeezes at his heart, he can't help but turn to look at the smile on your face.

“Look at you losing!” He's sure his health bar is at the end by now, but he can't tear his eyes away from you. In awe, because how could someone actually look like that? So effortlessly... beautiful? 

The tip of your tongue poked out the corner of your lips, brows furrowed as you work hard to take him down. So wrapped in the game, you don't even realize that he had stopped playing. It's his luck too, no telling how embarrassed he'd be if he was caught staring. Yet, he can't bring himself to look away.

Not until you're jumping up excited, clapping for yourself and your win. “Did you see that?” Your body is whipping around, forcing a surprised look on his face. Worried that you might've caught the way he had been looking at you. “I just fucking destroyed you! You can't even say that was beginners luck, either.”

You're lifting your hand for a high five, which he's happily giving to you. His smile matching yours as you flop down on the couch beside him, thighs grazing over each other and he feels it in his chest. “Do you want a chance to redeem yourself?”

Not even a minute is spared for him to answer because you're already starting up a new round. He's got his game face on now, shaking himself out of the daze. “Can you believe I just kicked your butt?” There's this taunting look on your face and all he wants to do is lean over and kiss you.

He takes for teasing you instead. Noticing your ridge posture that he had commented on in your picture. “I don't know how,” A large hand reaches over to touch your back, your body automatically leaning into his touch. “Your form is all off, it had to be luck.” Just a bit of pressure is applying to your back and you're slouching forward.

With a laugh, you're rolling your eyes – reaching a hand back to swat his away. “Watch me beat you like this too. I'll even let you pick my character,” You've been using the same girl since you started playing while he's surfed through the entire catalog. He's taking you up on the offer, picking one of the bulkier characters that don't do all the jump moves you seem to love so much.

And you still beat him.

This time distracted by the frustrated rants from you whenever your guy doesn't do what you tell him to. Time runs out and he ends up having less on his health bar and you're taking that as a proper win, lifting your hand for another high five.

Jungkook congratulates you quietly, more so trying to figure out just what was going on inside his chest. He's had girls over before. In much more intimate settings than this... but never has he felt like his heart was about to burst through his chest. This unbearable feeling to be close to you and it's quickly becoming all he can think about.

You're just so pretty. And you look oddly sexy in your sweats. But it's not just that. There's something else that he can't really place that's pulling him to you. Making it hard for him to stop thinking about stupid things like holding your hand or kissing your cheek. Imagining if days like today were the norm and after he'd grow tired of playing games, you'd let him stretch out his head in your lap – playing with his hair.

And it has to be crazy because this was only the first time the two of you were alone. The late-night texts being all he had to back up knowing you, but at the same time, he felt like he knew you. Like he's known you well. He can't describe it either, but he's almost positive that you feel the same.

“Are you hungry? Should we order a pizza?” You've already whipped your phone out, reluctantly putting a bit of space between the two of you as you scroll through your phone. Jungkook is quick to agree, fingers moving over the buttons on the controller to switch the TV.

No idea why he all of a sudden feels so nervous. “Sure,” He's managing to mumble out, but you're not listening. Already putting together a pizza for both of you. “Do you, uhm... do you wanna watch a movie? Something on Netflix?” Your thumb is stilling on the screen at the mention of Netflix.

Yoongi's playful warning ringing loudly in your mind. 'Playing video games was just Netflix and Chill with more steps,'. But there was the chance that he was actually tired of playing games and wanted to watch a movie with you. It didn't have to be that serious, you had been going at it for hours.

“Yeah, go ahead. Pick something.” His body slouches back on the cushions, scanning through the movies halfheartedly before choosing a random one with a really long title. After tapping his fingers against the screen, the neon orange lights in the room are dimming. A comfortable warmth settling around you.

Jungkook watches as you take your time putting the order together. The beginning credits playing on the screen and he's not even paying attention, too busy with his eyes glued to you. “I got meat lovers, you like that, right?” Setting your phone aside, you allow yourself to sink into the comfort of the cushions. 

“Mmh, my favorite.” Not a lie. It really was. And the fact that you had chose it without knowing just added to everything about you that made him want to kiss you. A small smile spreads across your lips as you nod, turning your attention to the screen in front of you.

The two of you sit side by side, watching the characters on the screen, but you're not listening. It's hard to hear over the pounding in your chest. The nervous bounce of his leg as if he was waiting for something. And you have no idea what because the pizza is no where near being on its way.

A pretty girl is in an argument with her male lead, something about debt and you're trying your hardest to follow the storyline. Although, you have no idea what this movie is and why he picked it. 

It's the thick yawn from beside you that catches your attention, Jungkook's arms lifting over his head in a stretch. You don't think much of it, other than the fact that he's being a little dramatic with his stretch. Until the arm closest to you is dropping down, not at his side like it had been before but around your shoulders – gently tugging your body into his side.

“Did you just do the yawn move on me?” You can't help but laugh. Even through the darkness, you can see the pink tint on his cheeks. “Shh, this is my favorite part.” You're actually positive that he's never seen this movie before, but don't put up a fight. Instead, you let yourself lean into his chest.

He's warm. And smells like flowers. His eyes don't move from the screen as he's reaching down, soft hands reaching for the outside of your knee. Slowly, he's lifting your legs onto his lap, only glancing in your direction briefly to gauge your reaction. Leaning back when there's no sign of you wanting to move.

“Your feet are so small,” Toes curling at the random attention, you're leaning over to reach for his face attempting to pull his focus. “Don't make fun of them! What the heck?” He's laughing loudly at you, allowing you to move his head. Shifting his focus from your feet to his face.

Your fingers are cold against his warm skin, but he can't keep himself from leaning into your touch. “They're cute.” Big eyes scan over your face, smiling softly when they're landing on yours. “You're cute.”

Almost instantly, the atmosphere in the room seems to shift. And you're not sure how he did it, but the way he was looking at you, the soft whisper in his voice... you can't but melt in his strong arms. Basically sat in his lap and it's nice. Jungkook takes his time with inching forward, entering your space which has your hand falling from his face.

He's quick to replace your hand with his one your cheek, tilting your head up toward his. You're sure he's going to kiss you. It's obvious with the slight pucker of his lips, the droop of his eyes, he's tapping a rhythmic beat against your knee ten times faster than the rush of your heart. He was going to kiss you.

Jungkook was going to kiss you and it felt like you couldn't breathe. Nerves on a ten because this wasn't even supposed to be a date. And now you were in this situation and you weren't the least bit unhappy about it. You wanted him to kiss you and it's a new feeling that you don't fully understand. It freaks you out.

Just inches from your lips and your face is twisting up, head jerking back before he can reach you. “What are you doing?” Instantly hating yourself for the embarrassed look on his features that slowly morphs into a puppy dog pout.

“I was going to kiss you...” Jungkook mumbles out sheepishly, dropping his arm from your body to push his hair back. Making an effort to put some space between the two of you, trying to figure out where he had gone wrong.

Because in his mind he had done everything right. Had been making you laugh all night, set some type of mood, told you that you were cute. And you seemed to be enjoying yourself... so what was he missing?

“Why would you do that? This isn't a date, Jungkook.” The mantra that you thought you had worked into your head seemed to be slipping. Not sure when you had forgotten what this was supposed to be, but now it was all rushing back to you.

The reasons you had rejected going on an actual date with him in the first place. And the realization of how stupid you were to think that this was a proper substitute for it. No matter what you decided to call it, it didn't erase the fact that this... tonight, with him... felt like a date.

And it wasn't supposed to.

“Do you kiss all the people you just hang out with?” It's wrong to put the blame on him and only him, but you can't help it. You're a mess in your head for a plethora of reasons, because it had been obvious. How he was looking at you, his arm around you, your legs in his lap... everything that you decided to ignore.

But in the same breath, he told you this wasn't a date... so why bother with all sweet shit. Turning movies on for one reason. Maybe you were reading too deep into all of this? Maybe you were overreacting. Jungkook didn't act like his friends when he was with you, maybe he was really different.

“Oh, come on, Yn... are you being serious?” He doesn't look all too embarrassed anymore, just a little bit sad from the rejection. It's fine, though. He'll live. “Dead serious, Jungkook. You got me here saying this wasn't a date. You need to stick to that,” You felt strongly on that part.

You had told him you didn't want to go on a date with him and even though this 'not date' was literally the same thing, he shouldn't act as if you had said yes to a date. Right? He should keep his word, that way things wouldn't get messy. Like right now.

Jungkook seems to put it together in his head, nodding his head in agreement – yet, the pout doesn't leave his lips. “Alright, alright. Fine. My bad,” He's tugging at the rolls of fabric on his sweats, avoiding eye contact with you. Dark hair covering his eyes, all you can really see is the pink of his lower lip.

And you feel bad, even though you know you shouldn't. It's not like you would've hated kissing him. It was just too nerve-racking to think of doing right now. You didn't quite understand it yourself, so there was no way you could go and explain it to him.

Instead, you're extending a finger. Poking the tip of your nail into his knee. “Don't pout. Come on, you'll miss the best part.” Referring to the movie that you're both watching for the first time, but it has a smile pushing onto his lips. His head lifting and gaze shifting onto the TV screen.

“Sorry,” He mumbles out after a moment, but you're not sure if he's apologizing for the almost-kiss or something else. Either way, you're flashing a genuine smile in his direction, lifting a hand to playfully shove at his shoulder. “Don't worry about it. It's fine,”

It really was.

— known for your body and surrounded by rumors about your sex life… rumors that he doesn’t think to doubt. until he’s meeting you… forced to realize there’s much more to you then the thonged shorts and lacy costumes.

⤪ masterlist ⤨

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A/N: timestamps make sense throughout the fic. if u want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask! + if you’ve asked to be on my permanent taglist, you do not need to ask to be added to this one !!

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #bts smut #🍒 sm au #jungkook fic #jungkook sm au #jungkook imagine #jungkook angst #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #min yoongi #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #namjoon #jin #yoongi #hoseok #jimin #taehyung #bts #bts imagine #bts sm au #sope