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sunflowergirl522 · 2 years

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Girlfriend?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: The gang finds out Eddie has a girlfriend after he almost dies in the upside down and you come in and fix everything. A shameless fix it fic

Word Count: 1891

“You’re gonna have to look after those little sheep for me okay?”

“No you’re gonna do that yourself!” Dustin cries as he looks down at the man he looked up to laying in his arms.

“Tell me you’ll look after them.”

“I’m gonna look after them.” He can barely get the words out. “But you’re gonna be right there with me, you hear me.”

“Listen I need you to tell my girlfriend I love her, she needs to know that I was still thinking about her in the end.” Dustin can barely register the sentence going into even more shock when he brings up having a girlfriend.

“Your girlfriend?” The thought of Eddie having someone back home gives Dustin a newfound strength as he stands up and carries most of Eddie's weight on his shoulder he propped his friend on. “You’re getting through this, and you’re going to tell her yourself.”

“Even if I make it to the trailer you’ll never be able to get me through the portal. Just promise me you’ll tell her, I’m sure she’s on her way back after the voicemail I left her.” He lets out a chuckle, regardless of how much pain he’s in, at how he’s imagining you leaving your grandma's house in a huff. You were always so adorable when you were angry.

Steve, Nancy, and Robin meet Dustin at Eddie’s trailer and start freaking out immediately at the state Eddie’s in. He can barely pay attention to them slowly feeling his world go dark and fear starts to grip him tightly. He doesn’t even notice when Dustin hands him off to Steve before getting something to climb back in with. He only snaps back into it when Steve slaps him across the face to wake him up.

“What the hell man!”

“Good, you're still alive. I’m sending him through!” Steve yells to Robin and Nancy through the portal before starting to lift Eddie up. “You’re heavier than you look Munson.” The girls try to catch him but he still falls onto the mattress and groans in pain.

“Shit, careful I’m delicate.”

“This assholes definitely going to be fine.” Steve helps Nancy start to get Eddie’s jacket off once he’s through and looks at Robin and Dustin. “Go get washcloths and some cold water so we can try to keep him awake while we clean him up.”

The cold water and alcohol they pour into his bites helps to bring him away from the brink of death. It’s not too long before he’s able to stand on his own while the others clean his wounds better than just dumping stuff in them. Nancy acts as everyone's nurse as she switches between Eddie and Steve and Dustin while Robin stays by Eddie’s side to make sure he doesn’t start fading on them again.

When the door to his trailer slams open everyone's attention goes to it. They’re expecting it to be the cops or some of Jason's friends so they’re shocked when a fuming girl storms in.

“Edward Joseph Munson! What the fuck is going on?!” You freeze when you take in the scene in front of you. Your eyes widen at the injured teens spread out around the living room before locking eyes with Eddie. Yours softening as you see the state that he’s in. “Eddie? Baby what happened to you?” You're breathless as you take in his still slightly bloody torso and the wound on his neck.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?!” Your anger comes back and you start to make your way towards him. “Did you think you could leave me a message like that and I wouldn’t drive all the way home?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Nancy steps in your way to prevent you from getting any closer to Eddie. That just infuriates you more, what’s this girl think she’s doing preventing you from getting to your boyfriend.

“I’m Eddie’s girlfriend. Who are you?” Her eyes go wide and her mouth opens and closes as she tries to find words.

“Girlfriend?” Steve and Robin speak at the same time and look at eachother with wide eyes. Meanwhile you just push past the girl in front of you.

“Jesus christ Eds you’re gonna need stitches.” You inspect the wounds on his sides, hands tentatively touching his skin. “You still have that sewing kit I left here?” He nods still shocked that you’re here when just moments ago he thought he’d never see you again. When you go to grab it from his room Dustin smiles and looks at Eddie.

“I like her.”

“Yeah me too.” Eddie can’t help but smile when he sees you coming back from his room already starting to rummage through the bag.

“What are you smiling at?”

“You.”

“Did they already clean these?” You roll your eyes and ignore his response as you pull a chair out and sit next to him. Eddie nods down at you watching as you start to thread your needle.

“Woah what are you doing?” Robin asks, rushing closer to the two of you.

“Stitching up my boyfriend, what does it look like?” Eddie flinches as you start your work. “Don’t worry I’ve cleaned him up enough after bar fights to know what I’m doing.”

“She’s gonna be my own personal nurse once she’s done with school.” The way he stares down at you with lovestruck eyes leaves everyone silent again.

“Hi, I’m Dustin.” He limps over to sit next to you and extends his hand.

“Hi Dustin, I’m Y/n. I’d shake your hand if I wasn’t preoccupied.” You glance at him out of the corner of your eye.

“Right, right.”

“It’s nice to meet you though, Eddie’s told me a lot about you. Says you’re like the little brother he never had.”

You and Dustin fall into comfortable conversation while you work, the others observing and trying to get a hold of Lucas, Max, or Erica. You tell Dustin about how you were in school with Eddie and you started dating sophomore year after you asked him to teach you how to play DnD so you could play with your cousins. You had never joined Hellfire club but you would constantly sit in on their campaigns. You tell him about how he was supposed to graduate with you originally and how he failed the next year because he spent too much time visiting you instead of going to school. And then Dustin told you about how he met Eddie and all the fun times they’ve had before explaining what’s been going on and why Eddie’s so injured.

“Yeah, that explains why doofus here left me a message telling me how much he loves me and that if he doesn’t make it to take good care of his baby.”

“You have a kid?”

“God no, he meant his guitar.”

“Baby you should’ve seen me in there, I put on the most metal show of my life! Finally got to play Master of Puppets.”

“Did you finally perfect it?” You can’t hide your excitement about it and he nods at you. “You’ll have to play it for me when you’re all healed up.” With that you finish closing up his other wound and back up from him.

“You’re not gonna kiss them better Sweetheart?”

“I’m still mad at you Edward, you had me scared half to death.”

“Edward?” Steve snickers after hearing Eddie's full name for the first time, not having been paying attention when you yelled it earlier.

“Shut it Harrington.”

“Who are you guys again?” You turn to face the three young adults across the room from you.

“I’m Robin. This is Nancy and Steve, we're sorta friends with Eddie, mainly Dustins though.”

“Well thank you guys for taking care of him, sorry I was so rude when I first got here. I was just worried about him.”

“It’s cool.” It’s then that Lucas and Erica burst into the trailer.

“Jesus Sinclair what happened to you?”

“Max is in the hospital, they don’t know if she’s gonna make it, we need to go.” Lucas says in a rush the same time Erica answers ‘Jason.’ As everyone piles into Steve's car you hang back with Eddie and Dustin pauses and glances between the others and you guys.

“Hey, what do we do about Eddie?”

“I have an idea about that actually. Do you guys think you could drop us off wherever he stashed his van?”

They don’t see or hear from either of you for two days. After getting dropped off at the van you rushed him into it before hopping in the driver's seat and heading to your grandmas so he could shower and get some clean clothes on before resting while you figure out exactly how to go about your plan. Once eddie was rested enough up you’d drive back to Hawkins with him and tell the police a lie about how he’s been helping you take care of your ill grandma so he hasn’t even been in town to commit these murders. You’d then bring up how Jason never liked him and he knew most of the victims so it made sense for him to be the real murderer and to frame Eddie. You had only been in contact once with Dustin with him telling you that Jason died during the ‘earthquake’ and that he had attacked Lucas. So that could help play into your plan, you asked him if Lucas would be alright with hinting that Jason was the one to attack Max and haven’t spoken to him since.

“Hey, don’t be nervous, it's all going to work out okay?” You grab one of Eddie's hands as he drives into Hawkins. You could tell he was getting lost in his head.

“What if they just bring you down with me?”

“They won’t, you have an airtight alibi now so you aren’t even going down. My grandma said she’d even vouch for you being there if they need to ask her because she loves you and knows you could never do something like that.” You kiss his cheek when he pulls into the police station parking lot. “Just relax Eddie bear. Let me make it all better.”

“Eddie!” Dustin yelled running towards him when he spots the two of you in the school's gym.

“Careful Henderson, I’m still injured.” He holds Dustin back when he goes to hug him.

“Did it work?” The younger kid looks over at you with curious eyes.

“Like a charm. Really we have Lucas to thank for that though, if he wouldn’t have been on board with the whole lying to the cops thing I don’t know if they ever would’ve eaten up the whole Jason theory the way they did. There should be a report about it on the news soon.”

“Eddie? Y/n?” Wayne drops his bag when he spots his nephew. “Thank God you’re okay.” He tears up as he pulls Eddie into a hug and you let go of his hand so he can properly hold him back knowing that he’s going to get emotional too. When the two of them part, Wayne looks over at you. “C’mere.” He pulls you into a hug too before whispering in your ear. “Thank you for taking care of my boy.”

“I always will, you know that.”

Eddie Taglist: @starbxcks

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fix it fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fic #eddie munson stranger things

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ohtobeleah · 11 months

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Concussed In Love // Jake Seresin

Summary: When Bradley & Jake take their playful banter to a new level, Jake ends up with a concussion. Bradley knows all to well the hell he just created when he knows there’s a pretty good chance you’ll be your fiancés attending ER nurse.

Warnings: Inaccurate medical lingo. Jake Seresin x F!reader. Mentions on blood & mild head trauma.

Word Count: 3.3k

Author Note: Happy Sunday! Here’s an attempt at some fluff on fluff on fluff.

The moment Bradley Bradshaw witnessed Jake Seresins' egotistical and slightly overbearing head collide with a crack against the pavement, he knew there would be ramifications to his actions.

What started as a normal, average, run of the mill argument for the plot quickly escalated into something a little more serious. Rooster was determined to put Jake in his place after a game of pool— even if it had just started like any other argument they ever had over the last few months, simply play. All talk no action—all bark no bite.

But when Jake rolled over, an agonising groan left his parted lips as his eyes squeezed shut to keep any form of light out. Bradley felt all the adrenaline in his body cores through his veins, he felt the blood pumping to his head so quickly he thought he was going to pass the fuck out.

“Hangman, you good? I didn’t mean to—“ But there it was, the dark crimson blood had begun to pool on the ground behind Jake's head. In the moment Rooster felt his heart sink out of his arse—the arse you were surely going to beat for this. “Holy shit you're bleeding.” Bradley’s voice was full of concern for his now bleeding Wingman as he laid on the ground just outside the Hard Deck.

Bradley didn’t know what to do, with all his emergency response training nothing seemed to want to kick in as he looked down at Jake bleeding on the pavement after losing his footing in the skuffle the pair had just had. So Rooster reached into his back pocket for his phone to call the only person he knew would actually be able to help him in his current situation, You, Jake's long-term girlfriend and recently announced fiancée.

You were an Emergency Room nurse and were the most qualified to help Jake more than the average person probably was. You worked well under pressure and would know exactly how to handle Jake’s current state of mind. Before Bradley could connect the call Jake's hand wrapped around his ankle, it was like he knew what his bird brain best friend was about to do as he pulled his attention to his wingman. When Bradley looked down again he saw Jake trying to sit up.

“Rooster, I swear if you call Y/n I'll kill you before she has the chance to kill you herself.” Bradley couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Jake definitely had a grade A concussion. Rooster was a deadman walking, he knew it.

“Jake, are you kidding me! you’re BLEEDING from your fucking head!” Bradley ran his hands through his hair unable to register properly what was going on. “You can’t be serious right now—”

“Bradshaw we both know she’ll skin you alive for causing such a drama, not to mention she’s at work!” There was a moment of silence as Jake tried to stop his head from spinning as he bent his legs and placed his elbows on his knees. “Just take me home, I’m fine.” Jake was adamant about the fact he was fine. He didn’t want to worry you, he didn’t want to bother you at work. You were the better half of Jake Hangman Seresin and didn’t he know it. To worry you would be a disservice on your ability to help others.

“Hangman, I don’t think it's that quick of a fix this time, you’re bleeding pretty bad, you might have a concussion and judging by the gash man you need actual stitches.” Bradley was frantically pacing back and forth around the front of the Hard Deck, Jake fumbled down onto the outdoor couch as he tried to stand, his fingers went to touch the throbbing area on the side of his head. As Jake looked at his blood covered fingers it didn’t take long to convince him he needed something to help stop the bleeding.

Yep. He’d cooked the goose pretty bad this time.

“Can you go get the super glue from the first aid kit behind the bar? Shits not stopping.” He mumbled as he struggled to keep his eyes open, feeling extremely tired and weak all of a sudden. It wasn’t often Jake Seresin was ever knocked on his arse, but Rooster had surely done a number on him this time.

Jake was definitely going to have to get him back for this. A sudden ant infestation in his Bronco would do it. But that was a revenge plan for another day. When he tried to stand Jake fell straight back to the ground. His knees felt weak and the world around him refused to steady. You were his anchor—even your unconditional love was no match for this concussion.

“Jake, I'm taking you to the ER.” It wasn’t exactly how Bradley planned his afternoon going and it surely wasn’t what Jake had in mind for his weekend off but he couldn’t help but grin as a light chuckle left his lips. “What's so funny, what could possibly be making you laugh right now? you're most likely concussed and I’m about to be buried alive!” Bradley asks through a frustrated sigh as he helped Jake up off the ground with a gruff over to the Bronco, being careful to hold Jake's head so the blood wouldn’t run down any further on his face. It was to no avail though. Blood was everywhere—Jake would be out of action for at least a solid week because of this. Rooster was never going to hear the bloody end of it either.

Jake just chuckled to himself, he loved you so much, you were his absolute best friend but even with a pretty good head knock he knew Rooster was in for it. So Jake grinned ear to bloody ear as he laughed softly in his best friend's face as he was haphazardly carried to the Bronco.

“My wife is gonna kill you.”

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

“Roo?” Jake grumbled from the passenger’s seat softly as he leaned his head against the cold window, fighting to keep his eyes open as blood smeared everywhere.

“Yeah Jake?” It was going to take Bradley ages to remove the blood that had soaked into his seat cushion.

“Y/n’s not gonna wanna marry me now I’m broken.” The sentence that came from his wingman's mouth really stunned Bradley, he wasn’t sure how to respond to such a ridiculous statement. But it kind of broke his heart a little to hear at the same time.

“Jake Y/n would marry you regardless, besides your not broken just concussed, maybe—“

“She always tells me her biggest fear is seeing me on one of her ER beds, Rooster. She's gonna hate me, won't wanna marry me anymore.” Jake reached out for the plain silver ring hanging from his dog tags, you had given him the simple yet sentimental ring one month into your engagement “I wanted to give you something just as special bub.” Jake could remember you saying as he opened the tiny ring box, your hands were massaging his shoulders from behind. “I got such a pretty ring, you deserved something too.”

Bradley couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for the way Jake was feeling right now, he was just as worried about your reaction when they would arrive, although Bradley adored you like his own sister, you scared the bejeebers out of him when you were angry.

You were normally a quiet person—well mannered and reserved. In most ways you were the complete opposite to Jake Seresin, with his loud personality and all in attitude. But sometimes you just needed to remind the six foot hooligans you loved so much that they were in fact mortal men.

You spent a lot of your time seeing some of the world’s most unholy injuries, you would make it very known that you were unimpressed with the shenanigans the two aviators would get up to sometimes. As Bradley drove your now concussed fiance closer and closer to the hospital, all he could hear in his mind was you saying— “One day you’ll be sitting in my ER Bradshaw and ill flog the ever living fuck out of you for whatever reason it may be, and YOU Jake aren’t untouchable either, I want a LONG life with you! don’t you dare cut it short by being stupid!” You knew there wasn’t an awful lot you could do about his career and the dangers that came along with it—but you would be damned if you were going to lose the love of your life to something like a petty tussle outside of the Hard Deck.

To say the very least, Bradley was terrified of seeing you, hoping for a miracle that for some unknown reason Jake wouldn’t be placed in his own fiancée’s care. It was like he was begging his own guardian angels to look after him, even if they had already turned their backs on him and dusted their hands the second Jake's head hit the ground. This wasn’t their problem to fix.

“You’ll be alright Hangman, Y/n loves you too much to ever truly hate you, that’s something I'll bet my life on.”

“If I know my girl you won’t have a life to bet on for very long, Rooster—“ To be clear, this was entirely Bradley Bradshaw's fault. He just didn’t feel it was entirely necessary to have to be reminded every five minutes.

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

In the middle of your break, your only chance to sit during your twelve hour shift– you were interrupted mid-sip of your triple shot coffee. “Paging nurse Y/L/N to ER one, paging nurse Y/L/N to ER one thankyou.” You let out a frustrated moan that came from the back of your throat as you left the quiet tranquillity of the breakroom. It wasn't often at all that you got a break, and even if you were frustrated–you understood your services were needed. Someone needed you.

“This better be good” You thought to yourself as you walked down the hall in a huff, swiping your name tag hanging from your hip that looped into your scrubs which opened the automatic doors. They lead you right to the ER section of the hospital.

“Ronda–” You whined as you leaned on your elbows on the reception desk. “This better be life-threatening or I'll be threatening you.” You joked as you took the file from Ronda who was already holding in the air for you– she was far too busy to even look up at you from her computer screen.

“Room one if you didn’t hear, Lieutenant Jake Seresin, suspected concussion with laceration–” She mumbled as she typed away on the next report. Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach, that was your Jake, your Jake was Lieutenant Jake Seresin. Why was he here? What had he done that caused him to need an Emergency Room trip. Your mind was racing a thousand miles an hour and in all your thoughts you never once thought to open the file now shaking in your grasp.

“Did you say Jake Seresin? That’s my fiancée, why is he here?” All the questions in the world were flying a hundred and ten miles out of your mouth. “Ronda, did you see him? Did you notice if he was, hmm I don't know severely hurt!!” You were off in a minute, racing towards ER one where you immediately noticed Bradley talking to a nurse, your co-worked Sally.

“We’re just waiting on the head nurse, last time I checked she was on her break but should be here any moment.” Sally caught the sight of a panicked you running down the hall, the file you were carrying crumbled under the weight of your fisted hand. “Ah, here she is now.” The look of pure terror that took over Bradley’s face when he saw you rushing towards him in your scrubs immediately told you he was involved with this little excursion. He tried turning to make a quick getaway but wasn’t fast enough. You outstretched your arm to grab Bradley by the back of his Hawaiian collar.

“Not so fast Bradshaw, What did you do and why am I carrying Jake's file in my hand right now!!” You whisper-yelled through gritted teeth. He looked pale, all the colour had been sucked from his complexion as he started stuttering.

“Y/n it isn't as b-bad as you think, he’s going to live j-just a little–”

“Rooster! What happened!” You released him from your grip, although Bradley was ten times bigger than you and ten times stronger than you, you had always been the thing of nightmares when you were angry.

“We were messing around, shooting a few trick shots at the pool table when we got a bit too intense.” Bradley rubbed at the back of his head as he followed you into the closed-off waiting room where Jake was sitting up on the bed hoping his fiancée wasn’t assigned his case, not wanting to burden you or cause you any more stress than need be. “I pushed him off me when we were arguing in the lot out the front but he stumbled back a bit and hit his head on the concrete, I’m really sorry Y/n we were just–”

“Messing around, yeah I got that part, Rooster.” You shot him a look he wished he would never have to see again, he could see why Jake loved you so dearly, you were the most caring, kind and compassionate women they both knew but something about your fiery attitude got Jake all hot and bothered. “Hi honey, what have you done to yourself?” Your tone instantly calmed seeing him still alive. Your soon to be husband, the love of your life.

“Babe, I think I’m hurt.” Jake whimpered as he touched his head, it was clear he had lost enough blood to make him feel groggy. “Can you help me?” You couldn’t help but smirk as you gently caressed his blood-stained cheek. Jake, albeit strong headed, sometimes arrogant and obnoxiously intelligent, was the softest soul you had ever met.

He swept you off your feet one afternoon when he’d come to check in on two of his squadron buddies that you had been overseeing for observations after a pretty eventful training accident a few years ago. Phoenix still to this day thought it was egomaniacal of Jake to hit on the attending nurse who was making sure she didn't have any life threatening injuries–you however, well, you thought it was quite endearing.

“I know babe but i'll fix you up yeah? Just have to take a look at you first.” Jake’s face fell dramatically, his eyes trained so heavily on your bluish coloured scrubs.

“Is that? Is that my blood?” He questioned as he reached out to touch it before you took a step back.

“No hun it's not yours, it's just old stains, now will you let me look at your head?” Jake nodded slowly, any slight movement made his head spin. “Oh Jake, honey when will you learn?”

“T’wasn’t me darlin’, Bradshaw did it.” He mumbled almost incoherently. You couldn't help but to feel bad for the guy, he looked so defeated, you'd never seen Jake like this before and it just broke your heart. “He hit me.” It came out almost like an alleged allegation.

“Oh okay just blame it all on me! like you weren’t the one who star–” Bradley didn't get through half of what he wanted to say before you turned to look at him over your shoulder. He could have died on the spot at the look you gave him. He pressed his lips together so tight his moustache ate his bottom lip. He was in so much trouble, he felt like a kid again, being shouted at by Carole for drawing on the white walls with red crayons.

“Rooster, don’t you dare think about yelling at him while he’s like this!” You fired as you looked over your shoulder. He’d turned on his heels to avoid your glare–focusing his attention to the first thing he could focus on which had been the bandages and medical supplies sitting on your trolley.

“Should’ve heard the stuff he was rambling on about in the car Y/n he’s so scared you’re not going to marry him now he’s quote-unquote broken.” Your heart warmed as you cleaned Jake's head, trying to minimise the pain as much as you possibly could as you cleaned it with antiseptic and saline.

“Jake–” You sighed “I'll always love you, regardless if you’re an idiot, you're the love of my life, see?” As you slowly and ever so gently pulled your hand away from Jake's face, you held her left hand up after degloving to show him the ring you wore around her finger.

“You wear it at work?” Jake questioned, eyes shining and full of love. You took it off during most of your shift. You had a plain simple chain that you would hoop it through but on your break you had placed it back on your finger.

“Course I do, never take it off Jake, now hold still while I fix you up yeah? Need some stitches put in.” You were gentle and calm, never hesitating from the first stitch to the last. Jake whimpers filling the room as Bradley watched on with a guilt ridden conscience.

“Roo, he’s really concussed alright I’d really appreciate it if you got him home and into bed yeah. But don’t let him sleep until he’s responding fluently like he normally does so you’ll have to keep an eye on him for a little while.” Jake had never looked sadder as you stood between his legs. It would have been inappropriate for any other patient to hold your hips and keep you close but this was your Jake, your Hangman.

“You’re not coming home with me?” He pouted with emerald green pools of despair. “Oh god this is it you’re really leaving me aren’t you.” Jake's voice was the saddest you'd ever heard. He really believed you were mad at him, that you were leaving him for a bump on the head.

“No honey, you're just concussed. I'll be home in a few hours, gotta finish up here first, deal with more idiots like yourself–” But Jake wasn’t buying it, he held your hips tighter before he pulled you into a tight hug.

“I'll never let you go.” He whispered in your ear, a smile took over your face almost instantly as Bradle captured the moment on his phone, most likely to blackmail your fiancé at a later date and to show the rest of the Daggers who were still waiting on an update. “I love you, with all my heart.” He said calmly before placing a gentle peck on your cheek.

“Paging nurse Y/L/N to trauma room three, nurse Y/L/N to trauma room three–” A loud voice came over the speaker causing Jake to shutter from the echoes in his head. You simply gave him a soft kiss against his forehead, whispering an angelic “I love you.” Before turning to Bradley.

“Just so you know you aren’t off the hook yet Bradshaw, you can bet your life ill flog the fuck outta you.” You raised your hand pointing directly at once again pale Bradley “Get him home before I change my mind and beat your ass right here.” You proclaimed before rushing out of the room to attend to your next not so handsome patient, leaving Bradley to take care of a concussed Jake, which he had coincidentally caused.

“Come on Jake, let's get you home” Bradley said, wrapping his arm under and around Jake as they walked out of the room.

“You’re not as pretty as my wife Rooster, I'd rather have her take care of me.” Bradley couldn’t help but laugh.

“She's not your wife yet Jake, but she will be soon and she’ll always be around to take care of you.”

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

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #top gun hangman #hangman x you #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman x reader

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mnnuni · 6 days

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Always, more than enough

Evan Buckley x Female reader

summary: Reader is going through somenthing at uni, but Buck's the perfect boyfriend words: 1484 warnings: smut Author's note: this is the first of my work that i ever publish, so please try and be kind. Also, english's not my first language so I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes and stuff

(Y/N) had just finished her last lesson of the day;she didn't imagine the second year could be even worse than the first, not that she didn't like her major or studying for it ... It was the ambience that she started to despise. Even if she found a solid group of friends, there was this bunch of girls that she really really couldn't stand. And it was so frustrating that at least one of them was in every lesson of her everyday schedule.

It wasn't like she argued with them or somethingbut the fact that they always had to say something about her and her life

The worst was when they spoke about Evan.He literally was the perfect boyfriend and (Y/N) couldn't tolerate their comment about their relationship.

"You sure he doesn't need a nurse? I could be his" said Sarah one time, and for this (Y/N) could blame her jealousy for her reaction because she knew Evan was an extremely attractive guy. But when Jennifer said "I really don't know why he's with you..." and then Carmen "yeah I'm sure he would want more than someone like you".

(Y/N) was sure of her relationship and in fact never really answered that type of comment...But there was that part of her she didn't have the strength to blame for being hurt about them.

How can a girl say that to another girl?

She couldn't answer that either.

(Y/N) was currently walking through theuniversity's courtyard to go to the bus station, all while recording an audio to her boyfriend about her day after he send her some texts when he woke up later in the evening after his shift.

"God I'm so fucking tired Buck, Mr Brown really has to learn how to not shout bec-" she suddenly stopped at the sign after her "no fucking way".

Her phone registered that too and when she arrived inches from Evan his phone rang for her notification.

"what the hell are you doing here?"

he was smiling.

God.

"surprise?" and then he smirked. (Y/N) nearly jumped to hug him and wrap her arms around his neck, but when they were about to kiss she reminded him "not here" and glanced around.

Evan knew she wasn't a fan of PDA and so when she would rather kiss him in private he didn't ask her too much about it. But now it was starting to feel strange she got so nervous near him at college...

"come on, you're at mine's tonight".

(Y/N) only smiled brighter and followed him to his car while she told him all about her day; and Evan listened to everything she said, every topic she defined interesting so he could bring it up later, every stop at the coffee shop she did so he would regulate her caffeine for the night and let her sleep, every essay she said she would forget so he could remind her eventually. He loved to listen to her. He loved when she rambled like that because she actually stopped his overthinking of everything when she did.

"shit! I was supposed to grab dinner at myparents's tonight" she suddenly said when they entered the car.

"already did that." He answered. She didn't know whether to be confused or impressed.

"I called your mum and told her my plan. Because I know how you hate Wednesdays and your mum cooks for you on them. After work I stopped at your parents'house and grabbed dinner -which by the way smelled delicious- and then came grab you"

Yeah... She was definitely impressed

She bent over Buck's car console and kissed him. (Y/N) was beyond grateful to have him in her life.

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

The first thing (Y/N) did after she took off her shoes the moment Evan closed his house door was to grab his face and pull him in a desperate kiss. He was kind of shocked at the sudden urgency of her hands on him but he couldn't really complain, it was so long since they could kiss like this because of their packed schedules.

Bucks groans in (Y/N)'s mouth and starts to fidget with her jeans untill she stepped away to get off her shirt first. Buck was so distracted from kissing her breasts that he didn't realise she stripped down her pants too. (Y/N) took his face again and licked his lips, smiling, "now strip".

She was so demanding, Evan's cock twitched just for her tone. He quickly took off his shirt while (Y/N) turned around to go in the bedroom. It was then that he smirked, finally realising how tiny her panties were.

"look at that, my super smart slut" he said smacking her ass. She let out a yelp but she was smirking too while she led him to his room. Evan just followed like a lost puppy trying to get out of his jeans on the way.

The moment he saw (Y/N) finally, completely naked he pinned her to the wall and got on his knees

"can I?"

It was such a turn on that even after years of being together and the fact that (Y/N) was ready naked and all for him, Evan still asked for her permission.

She answered putting her hand through his hair and putting his head close to her.

He was so good at licking her.

It didn't last long because Evan was entering her pussy with his tongue and then he started sucking on her clit and -

"Evan" she breathed out.

The first time she did it, Buck was shocked at how he was affected by the sound of his name from her lips. But now he got addicted to it.

(Y/N) was a moaning mess and Buck started to alternate a lick and a bite to her lips, "Baby I-I really love this but-" , another moan at the sign of Buck stopping immediatly and looking at her from his lashes.

He was so hot.

"I need you".

That was enough for Buck to grab her by the thights and put her on the bed; he crawled over her and smiled but that didn't last long because (Y/N) started to stroke his cock and he fucking whimpered.

"Sweatheart" he started moving his hips in her hand, "yes baby?", she smirked at his flushed state "ple-se". (Y/N) put his cock near her entrance and when he felt her wetness Buck completly lost it and pushed into her. They both moaned at the new contact.

Evan gave her few moments to get adjusted before he started thrust so hard she scratched his back with her nails.

"Yes! Keep going Evan"

He kissed her neck and never once thought to change the pace because he could feel (Y/N) clench around him signaling him she was close. It was only when Buck started to moan more loudly that she allowed herself to really be in the moment and come on his dick. He followed shortly after her.

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

They stayed on the bed readjusting their breathing and cuddling for another half an hour before Buck got up and microwed them some food to eat in bed. (Y/N) couldn't even think to get up, Evan only worsened her tiredness.

The atmosphere was so confortable while they eat half covered with Evan's sheet, (Y/N) covered in one of his shirt, that she thought it was the right moment to answer the dubts that was forming in her boyfriend's mind since some weeks;

"I'm sorry", he looked up at her confused but she wasn't looking at him so he knew she needed time to actually talk.

"Do you think I'm enough for you?" at this Evan put his napkin away and got closer to her "what are you talking about baby? You're everything for me"; (Y/N) left a breth escape her lips and a light smile starts to form on them, but she got Buck worry now.

"What happened (Y/N)?" he put his hand on her thigh and followed her eyes in order to got her to look at him. She breathed in again. "Some girls at school... let's just say they think you could do better than me". Evan immediatly wrapped his arms around her.

"Oh love, you know they only say this 'cause they're jelous of you", she chuckled "yeah i know, it's stupid and I'm sorry I got you upset by avoiding you around campus but i really hate when they comment about us and it's even more stupid because I never cared for others opinion but when it comes to you I-"

Evan stopped her by kissing her.

"Thank you for finally telling what you were stressing about" another kiss "don't ever think you have to apologize, to me of all people, for your feelings" another kiss "and don't you ever, ever think you're not enough"

(Y/N) smiled at him.

"I love you". It was her that kissed him now.

"I love you too".

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #911

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angstywaifu · 22 days

Text

Not Meant To Care - Xaden Riorson x Reader

Prompt - “Since when did you ever care about me?!” “Since fucking forever!” from anonymous. A/N: I definitely didn't forget to schedule this weeks posts. Not at all.... Anyway, enjoy some Xaden! Masterlist

Every part of my body screamed at me as I hobbled down the stairs from the flight field. The pain reminding me of the first few times I flew on my dragon last year. It had been a while since I had felt like this. Today an opposing squad from another wing had been paired with ours for the class. And it had gone bad fast.

The other squad were on us in seconds despite it being a class to learn new manoeuvres. I had fallen victim to two other riders sandwiching me and my dragon between theirs. With them having larger dragons they had easily manoeuvred us into a flip, and I hadn’t had a chance to grip onto my dragon properly before I was thrown from their back. Luckily another squad member had seen it and flew over to catch me. But the impact had shook my entire body. Everything now aching and hurting because of it. Each step causing another ripple of pain to shoot you my body. The pain getting worse with every step. I had been dumb enough to brush off my squad mates when we got back and was now alone for my decent back to the quadrant. It was going to be a long and painful hobble over to the healers.

After what feels like hours I finally descend into the rotunda. A few people turn and whisper as I hobble in and start to make my way towards the healers. I hear rushed footsteps and look up to see Bodhi and Imogen rushing over to me.

“What the hell happened to you?” Bodhi asks urgently as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his side, taking the brunt of my weight.

I wince in pain, but without bearing all of my weight I can’t help the sigh of relief as I lean into Bodhi.

“Just a little mishap in flight training.” I get out between gritted teeth.

“A little mishap that’s left your hobbling across the court yard like you’re in your ninety’s?” Imogen questions as she falls into step as Bodhi slowly walks me towards the healers quadrant.

I wince in pain as Bodhi walks us up some stairs, causing them both to share a concerned look.

“It’s fine. Nothing a healer can’t fix.” I tell them sternly.

“Y/N, you are the best flier in your year and probably one of the best in the quadrant right now. This isn’t little.” Bodhi’s voice pleading me to tell them what had happened.

As we turn the corner to the healers quadrant I wince in pain, my eyes screwing shut. I don’t even register the sound of Imogen’s rushed footsteps leading away from us as Bodhi hurries me towards the healers quadrant.

Bodhi barges through the door, fully taking my weight as he is guided towards the back area of the room where the menders reside. I groan in pain as he lowers me on the bed. I barely register the nurse and Bodhi talking as I focus on my breathing. Clearly the impact of the fall had caused more damage than I had thought.

Something cold on my head startles me and I look up to see Bodhi pressing a damp cloth to my head. I sigh in relief, the coolness taking the edge off the pain. He offers a small smile as I feel something wash over me. I look over to see a mender grasping my hand in theirs. I feel my body slowly release the pain. As if they are drawing it into themselves through our connected hands. My body sags in relief as the tension is released. My eyes start to flutter close. A side effect of mending was the toll it took on the mended and the patient. As I fall into a peaceful slumber I vaguely hear a loud gruff voice yelling my name in the distance.

When I open my eyes I immediately know I’m not in the healers quadrant. Instead I lie in a much softer bed, tucked into a blanket. As I breathe, I note the smells of mint, leather and something that reminds me of a flower or citrus. I’d smelt it before, but where? My answer quickly comes to me as the sound of a chair creaking draws my eyes over to the last person I expected to see. Xaden. I was in Xaden’s room. Xaden who I’d always had a stupid crush on, despite how much we despised each other. We had never gotten along. Always bickering and pestering each other. Pushing each others buttons whenever we could. And yet here I was. In his bed as he watched over me. His Onyx eyes scan over me, assessing me for any pain. As I stretch and sit up I am relieved to feel none of the pain I had felt earlier. Even in the lower light of the room I note Xaden’s shoulders sag in relief, as if relieved to see I am no longer in pain. But the expression on his face remains almost neutral, except for the twitch of his jaw.

”Care to explain?” He asks, anger evident in his tone.

”I don’t need to explain anything.” I snap at him as I shove the blanket off me and stand.

I go to shove past him but his hands grasps my wrist tightly, turning me back to him.

”Yes you do. Now how the hell did you go from being perfectly fine after lunch, to being in excruciating pain to the point Bodhi had to drag you to the healers.” He demands, his onyx eyes piercing into mine.

I nearly cave under his gaze. Tell him what he wants. But I do what I always do. Push his buttons and push him away. Just like the stupid feelings I have for him.

”Like I said. I don't need to explain anything to you. Just a flight manoeuvre that went wrong.” I snap again as I pull my wrist from his hand. “Why are you acting like you care? Since when did you ever care about me?”

”Since fucking forever!” He snaps, his words echoing around his room as silence falls over us.

Xaden’s eyes go wide as he realises what he’s said. The panic clearly evident in them as he looks into mine. As if his emotions had taken over and he hadn’t meant to reveal what he had.

“Y-you hate me. You don’t care about me.” I say, my voice shaking slightly as I slightly shake my head at him.

No, there’s no way Xaden feels the same way I do. No way does he have the same feelings I shouldn’t have for him. The feelings I try to dampen every single day. He can’t.

”But I do. I do fucking care as much as I might not show it. I fucking care about you.” He takes a step towards me, my neck craning back to look up at him as his body becomes flush with mine. He’s so close I swear he could hear how loudly my heart is beating. “And I know you do to. As much as we might try to prove we hate each other every day. We haven’t for a while.”

I shake my head. ”No, we haven’t” I admit.

As my words leave my mouth, the smirk I tried to convince myself I hated on a daily basis but secretly loved graced his lips. The lips I had wanted on mine since we came to this god damn death college. As if we share the same thoughts, Xaden grasps my face between his hands and pulls me into a kiss, before guiding us over to the bed.

#fourth wing #fourth wing fanfic #xaden riorson #xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #xaden riorson fanfic #the fourth wing

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deliciousbasementtrash · 6 months

Text

Playing Nurse for the Batfam

From Batman: Wayne Family Adventures #67-69 on Webtoon; Artist Inker Starbite

Summary: you are a nurse working for Gotham General Hospital. Batman has offered you a job. You are meeting the whole family for the first time. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Slowburn Jason Todd x reader, (maybe a why choose with Dick Grayson as well?? Idk tell me what you guys want)

Warning: Adult language, knife injury

Word Count: 1.5k

Note: These characters are not my own they belong to DC. The only character that is 'mine' is the reader. I am going to be as nondescript as possible for the reader as well for physical attributes. This is a continuation series; I’m not sure how long it will be. Also for some reason, my replies to comments are not showing up. I’m not ignoring your comments Tumblr won’t let me respond :( But please, please comment I live for it

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Part Four: Dinner and a Show

Anxiously, I took the napkin from the table and began twisting it vigorously. I felt Alfred leave his seat as he rose to meet his family. I swallowed hard, not wanting to look at all of the people that were entering the room. They just seemed to keep coming. How many people were in Bruce’s family?

Before I had time to register it a hand was outstretched near me. It nearly made me jump. The stranger cleared his throat and smiled, “Hello, I am Dick Grayson. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

In an ungraceful motion, I put the napkin on the table and stood up to greet him properly. I took his hand in mine and firmly shook it. His hands were large, calloused, and a little clammy. It was almost like he was a little nervous to meet me. But that couldn’t be right.

“Nice to meet you, Dick Grayson. I am y/f/n y/l/n,” I said, trying to make eye contact with him. Dick was an extremely handsome man. He was almost achingly pretty. With his soft blue eyes, dimples, and dark curly hair, he could definitely charm the pants off anyone if he really wanted to.

His smile grew when our hands met. He just stood there for a moment looking at me, and then he pivoted to the side. He introduced Tim Drake and Duke Thomas. Tim was cordial and did the customary new person greeting, Duke was somewhat rambling.

“Your powers are truly something to be admired, thank you so much for everything you have done,” Duke said as he excitedly shook my hand.

I smiled at him and rubbed the back of my neck, “It’s really not that big of a deal but thank you, Duke. You guys are the ones that make the real change.”

Duke opened his mouth as if he were going to disagree, but a red-headed woman with glasses wheeled up to us and joined the conversation.

“You boys are hogging her. Hello, I am Barbara Gordon. This is Cass, she doesn’t say much, and this is Stephanie, she says too much.”

I greeted them both, slightly overwhelmed by the amount of new people. I was trying my best to act ‘normal’ and be as social and charming as I could be. A younger boy who strongly resembled Bruce stood far away from me. He surveyed the room, taking in the reactions. He seemed so serious for his age. I wasn’t sure if I should make the introduction or not.

“Where is Jason?” Bruce asked the room.

“He is running late,” Dick said, “he said he had some ‘other shit that needed to get done first.’”

Faintly, I saw Bruce tense, but just as quickly as it came, it went. “Alright, everyone leave y/n alone and go sit down.”

On my right, there was Alfred, who felt my anchor to the world. On my left, there was Dick Grayson, who felt like he was trying to get me to smile and laugh every chance he got.

The table soon became loud with conversations that finally were not about me. However, I felt eyes on me the whole night. Damian Wayne was across from me, staring at me the whole time like I was an intruder.

“So, you are a healer,” Damian said, skeptically.

I swallowed a bite of food and nodded, “I am.”

“What can you heal?” Damian asked, twirling his dinner knife in the air.

“Flesh wounds, broken bones, blood loss, head injury, organ injury,” I trailed off not knowing what else to say.

“How does it work?” His eyes narrowed at me.

“I’m not really sure. It’s as natural for me as breathing or blinking.”

“What are your–” Damien asked but then Bruce interrupted.

“Son, you do not need to vet our guest. Let her enjoy herself.”

Damien was suspicious of me and curious I wanted the boy to feel comfortable, “It’s okay, Bruce. It’s natural to be curious about it. What other questions do you have for me, Damien?’

“What are your limits?” Damien asked.

I felt the table go quiet. They all were curious and wanted to know my weaknesses. I instinctually did not want to answer, but I knew that if I wanted to be accepted I would need to be vulnerable and honest.

“I cannot heal a majority of terminal illnesses. Spinal injuries can go one way or the other it depends on the severity. I cannot heal tumors. And…. and healing is draining. If I am not smart about it, I can make myself sick.”

“Sick how?” Dick asked, leaning in.

“Well, it’s hard to explain. When I healed Bruce, it was after my shift at the hospital, I barely ate that day or slept the night before. So, when I put all that energy into healing him, it was exhausting. I nearly passed out on the ground next to him. When I got home, I slept for 16 hours straight. That is a more mild case though, it can get more… severe.”

“I wasn’t aware of that,” Bruce mumbled.

The boyish charm on Dick’s face vanished, “How severe can it get?”

“Oh, you know tremors, fever, bloody noses, vomiting, seizures. It can get bad. I’ve learned my limits the hard way, but I’ve learned them. Growing up my limits were more extreme. I couldn’t heal a paper cut without getting a headache. Small stuff like cuts and bruises doesn’t bother me at all now though. It barely scratches the surface of my limits.”

“Prove it,” Damien said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, annoyance filling my tone. I can handle his constant questions, but being told to prove it vexed me.

“You say you can heal cuts and bruises without it ‘scratching the surface.’ Prove it. Prove you’re not a charlatan witch.” It was a movement for a boy too quick for his age he took his dinner knife and sliced along his own arm.

“Damien!” Barbara yelled. Dick leaped across the table but it was too late, blood was already pooling. Bruce and Alfred cursed.

“Why did we allow Damien to have a knife at dinner?” Tim asked over the yelling.

“Tim, do you really think we gave him that knife?” Bruce asked, incredulously.

Anger surged as I slowly made my way around the table full of people yelling until I was in front of Damien. I glared at him as I rested my hands just above his cut. The room became silent as I healed him. The cut closed, and I replenished the blood that he lost.

Damien looked at me, dumbfounded. The whole room did expect for Bruce and Alfred.

“It’s one thing to hear about it, but to see it… you really are a miracle.” Duke said the words and I flinched from them.

I looked at Damien and let my anger show through. “I will not heal you if you pull something like this again. I don’t care how much your father pays me. I am not a monkey that will dance for you on a whim. Do not harm yourself to make a point or prove something again.” Damien angrily ripped his arm away from me. I didn’t care. It was unacceptable. He should never hurt himself intentionally like that just because he knows I can heal him. I turned and faced the room, “It was lovely meeting all of you. I hope you all have a nice evening, good night.”

And with that, I turned around and left for the night. Maybe I shouldn’t be as mad as I am right now, but I know I need a moment to myself. I heard light footsteps beside me as someone lightly jogged to catch up.

“I’m sorry about Damien we are still house-training him,” Dick said, trying his best to lighten the mood.

I didn’t crack a smile, “It’s okay, Dick, really.”

“He can be intense sometimes, well we all can,” ever so lightly he reached up and grabbed my elbow, turning me so I faced him. “We are a lot. We are loud. We are sarcastic. We all think we are right all the time. We fight. We can be obsessive, protective, and socially inept. You will constantly have to patch us up–”

I shook my head, my eyebrows pinched in confusion, “Why are you telling me all of this?”

“You need to know exactly what you are getting into. It won’t be fair to you if you don’t know,” he said, absent-mindedly his thumb stroking the inner part of my elbow. He probably didn’t even know he was doing it, but I was acutely aware of it.

I just nodded, “Thank you for telling me. I appreciate the honesty. Besides, if I can handle my family, I can handle yours. Good night, Dick.”

“Of course, good night, y/n.” It looked like he wanted to say more, but I didn’t have the energy for it.

I walked toward my room, suddenly so exhausted. I rubbed my eyes with the heels of my palms, and accidentally ran into a wall.

“Um excuse you,” a deep voice said.

Taglist: I am just starting a taglist; if you would like to be included please comment :)

@soundsfunbutno

Also please vote below for what you would prefer

Thank you guys

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famwhy · 11 months

Text

Right Way Up (Prologue)

Stranger Things

Yandere! Steve Harrington X F!Reader, Yandere! Eddie Munson X F!Reader, Yandere! Billy Hargrove X F!Reader

Synopsis: You always hated when your favourite characters died in shows or movies; always longed to have the opportunity to save them. So when you're transported into one of your favourite shows of all time, what else are you supposed to do besides save your beloved characters?

Warnings: Threat/violence, Gore, Mentions of sexual content (implicit), Death, Manipulation, Depictions of toxic relationships, Drugs and alcohol abuse

masterlist. next part.

prologue. bring unto me misfortune

enter: steve "the hair" harrington

"—GET off him, Y/N!"

You blinked, puzzled. "Huh?"

A face—below you; beaten bloody and blue.

Arms—around you; tugging, pulling, yanking.

It took a few seconds to sink in, to register your surroundings and properly digest them.

You were straddling someone, legs thrown over their hips as you held them down with your weight. Your knuckles were red, speckled with the droplets running down their nose... their nose—oh god, their nose—it was crooked, bent in ways you hadn't ever thought were possible outside of movies; ways you hadn't ever wished to come across in the whole of your lifetime.

Did you do that?

Your brows were furrowed. Why were they furrowed? You didn't recall feeling angry before your afternoon nap—if anything, you were more relieved—so why now did you suddenly find yourself on top of this random teenager, who you never even once recalled spending a moment of your life with, while your fist was slathered in their blood?

"Jesus, I get that you hate him but there's no need to kill him!" That same voice from before piped up. "You'll get in some serious trouble."

What the hell was he on about?

There were so many more questions running rampant in your mind but the tugging sensation around your waist finally prevailed, pulling you straight out of your thoughts and, subsequently, straight off that boy.

"Y/N, c'mon. We gotta go before we get in some deep shit."

Your head swerved around, finally allowing you to catch a glimpse of the guy who had both of his hands securely wrapped around your waist—albeit you did have to strain your neck a little.

He had brown locks that swooped over his scalp to rest perfectly against the top of his head—smooth and silky with a shimmering sheen coating their surface. It was a unique hairstyle, one that seemed way too... familiar for your liking.

"Ah shit."

His hand reached out, and it was only then that you truly realised how bloody your fingers were; when he grabbed ahold of them and pulled them closer to his face, consequently staining his own hand too.

"You're hurt."

His brows were furrowed and a heavy frown had tugged his lips down, making it appear as though he was concerned about you—but, how could that be possible when you had never once met him in your life? Or at least, you thought that to be so.

He dragged you inside a building, your feet bumping against the rough surface of concrete as you continued to lay limp in disbelief, bewilderment, and utter, utter confusion.

Lockers, around you, rows and rows of them. Okay, so a school. You were in a school. You were in some random school being dragged by some random boy with bloody fists that just now began to ache lightly.

This was definitely a dream—that much you concluded right away. Some weird dream where you found yourself in high school with a... cheerleading outfit on?

The skirt, the bright colours, the large logo—yup, there was no mistaking it, you were in a cheerleading outfit.

Oh wow, a dream where you were a cheerleader that beat up random guys in such gruesome ways? Kinda cool, if you were honest.

"Shit, looks like the nurse is out," the familiar boy spoke again, "hang on, I think I can help patch you up."

He gently placed you ontop of a bed, one that felt soft and plush around your thighs. It was quite comfortable and you almost couldn't help the need to bounce on it slightly; feel its spring underneath you to truly test if it was, in fact, a bed.

The room he took you to was grey, looking old with some tiles on the wall having been chipped away; as though it hadn't been tended to in a long time. A little unhygienic, you had thought, but nothing unexpected of a school.

"You have got to stop getting into fights," your eyes wandered back over to the boy, taking in the sight of him scurrying through some drawers; almost as though he was looking for something, "I know it's been hard—y'know, since that whole incident with the demogorgon and stuff—but that doesn't mean you can keep getting into fights like this to toughen yourself up—"

Woah, woah, woah, did he just say demogorgon?

"—I promised you I would protect you—didn't I?—that you didn't need to worry about stuff like that. Just... let me keep you safe."

He paused after he said those words, looking over at you with such soft, tender eyes—you almost let out a light gasp from how intense the care in them felt.

This boy... how exactly did you know him in this dream? Was he a friend? A lover? Sibling?

You briefly parted your lips, blinking as words formed on the tip of your tongue—seconds away from escaping your mouth—when a thought suddenly occurred to you, and you sharply pressed them against each other once more.

He mentioned a demogorgon. There were only two pieces of media you knew of that mentioned demogorgons. DnD and... Stranger Things.

Suddenly, it all clicked. The hair, the uniform, the school environment, the demogorgon—you were in Stranger Things, sat in Hawkins High, right next to Steve Harrington.

Holy shit. How did you not realise it before?! You were literally sat right in front of Steve 'The Hair' Harrington himself—a guy known for his unique, 'pretty boy', hair!

Holy crap.

"Y/N? Are you alright?"

"Huh?" You blinked. "Oh, uh, I'm fine."

As fine as someone who just found out they were in a dream about a bloody horror show set in the 80s could be.

He slowly approached you, and it was only then that you noticed the roll of gauze in his hands.

"Yeah, sure you are," he quipped with a frown.

You rolled your eyes. "I am, Steve."

"I know, I know, I just—" he paused and let out a light, frustrated sigh, as though he was trying to release some sort of heavy weight he was bearing, before combing a hand through his hair, "—I don't like seeing you hurt."

That was when you remembered how sweet he truly was after season one of the show, and your eyes softened as you gazed at his clearly-concerned form. Well, at least your dream was merciful enough to allow you to be close to Steve; so close, in fact, that he would have this much concern over you in the first place.

The gentle hold of five somewhat-rough fingers against your wrist only proved your points further as he lightly tugged on your arm and brought your knuckles closer to his form—his touch sending tingles down your limb now that you knew who, exactly, he was. C'mon, who didn't have a crush on Steve Harrington?

The soft fabric of a cloth met with your skin, slowly wiping away the sticky liquid on its surface to reveal your bruised—and slightly busted—knuckles underneath.

"Since when did you get a tattoo?"

"Huh?" You blinked.

Confused, you followed his line of sight, finding your eyes landing on three thick, red lines displayed clearly on your wrist, right where the bump of your veins were visible; so prominent, in fact, you were surprised you hadn't noticed them there earlier.

"Shit. Don't tell me you got it while drunk." Your eyes shot back up to him. "Seriously, Y/N? How many times do I have to tell you not to get blackout drunk?"

You didn't know how the hell those tattoos got there and, from the looks of things, Steve didn't either. Maybe it was some weird detail your dream decided to add on—wouldn't be the first time, and certainly wouldn't be the last either.

He sighed, eyes closing for a few brief moments before opening once more with yet another intense look to knock you off your feet. "Alright. Lemme just wrap up your wound."

His nails then dug into the edge of the gauze, pulling and prodding at it until a corner gave way before he was able to further force it apart. Then, his hands moved back to yours; left wrapping gently around your fingers; right rolling the gauze over your knuckles just as sweetly.

A small smile tugged up your lips. It felt nice to be cared for like this—comforting.

"Alright, uhh, that should be it," he announced, slowly pulling away to leave nothing but the lingering sense of warmth from his touch in his wake, "you have practice later, right? If you don't like how it looks, you can cover it up with your, uh, plastic, ribbon ball things."

"Plastic, ribbon ball things?" You rose a brow.

"Yeah—y'know, the ones that you shake about during games?"

Was he talking about what you thought he was talking about?

"You mean pompoms?" You couldn't help the amusement that seeped into your tone.

"Yes!" He snapped his fingers with a smile. "Pompoms!"

Dear lord, he was so cute, it was otherworldly. You must've struck it super lucky to have gotten this dream, almost made you not wanna wake up. Although, hopefully you would awake before having the pleasure of meeting a plant monster with thousands of razor-sharp teeth ready to bleed you dry.

"Nance and I'll take you home, alright? Just in case."

Nance?

Oh shit, yeah, he was still with Nancy. You were crushing on a taken man. Sorry, Nance.

...although, technically, he wouldn't be taken for long since they did break up in the show so... you were totally allowed to keep crushing on him.

"Y/N?"

A hand waved back and forth in front of your face.

"Oh, uh, repeat that."

His lips pulled down again and you found your heart constricting slightly—ribs suddenly feeling like too much as guilt engulfed your form. He was worrying for you an awful lot, huh?

"Are you alright, N/N? You're not usually this out of it. Do you want me to stay here with you for the rest of the day?"

The way he spoke; the concern-ridden scrunch of his brow; the lack of distance between his form and yours—it all added up, suffocating you in a hold of responsibility you didn't wish to be within.

"It's okay, you should get to class—" you mustered up a smile as best as you could, praying to God he wasn't able to see through it, "—I've caused you enough worry for the day."

His eyes softened and he reached out a hand, placing it gently against the bare skin of your shoulder—those familiar tingles running down your arm at his touch. "It's okay, I don't mind. You're my best friend, N/N. I'll never see you as a burden."

Warmth—overwhelming and fluffy—all around you; coating your form in a lovely bubble of pure bliss, all from a few words. How the hell was he so smooth?

"Careful, Harrington," a broad grin spread from one side of your face to the other, "you've got a girlfriend."

He rolled his eyes with a little chuckle—and you swore your heart just fluttered—"Nance won't mind. I've known you my whole life, shitbird."

The insult was enough to cause your eyes to crinkle in amusement as a light laugh left your lips. "Okay, okay, dipshit. Go to class."

Finally, his lips turned up instead of down—gently this time; soft without a hint of anything sharp in them; that paired with the intense care swirling in his eyes—god, he had to stop doing that.

"There's that pretty smile."

"Steve!" You batted him away, shifting your head to the side to hide the ever-growing tug of your lips. "Go!"

"Alright, alright," he relented, pushing himself up from the kneeling position he was once in as he took a few steps back, a broad grin situated on his face, "I'm going. See you later, shitbird."

Before a retort could escape your mouth, he was gone.

You rolled your eyes but the traitorous grin on your lips gave away your true feelings.

You just had banter with the Steve Harrington. King Steve himself. This dream was a blessing in disguise. It had to be.

Apparently, you were also best friends with him too. Another absolute win in your book.

Hours; you would've spent hours gushing over him—squealing like a little school girl with a crush—but the next thing that happened occurred too quickly for you to continue your spiel, too fast for you to register anything else.

A brief spike of white, hot pain shot through your knuckles—so quick, you almost couldn't believe it happened. But it was there. It happened.

"Agh!"

They were hurting. Holy shit, they were hurting. How was that possible? Was this a lucid dream? It did feel surprisingly realistic, and very, very immersive. That was probably all there was to it, right?

But... weren't dreams incapable of emulating pain? ...or was that death? Stupid memory. Maybe if you allowed yourself to take a nap, you'd wake up on your couch again in the real world. Then you'd probably start to sulk about how you weren't actually friends with Steve Harrington and how he was, unfortunately, just a fictional character.

"Y/N!"

The call of your name had your eyes averting from your wrapped up knuckles and towards the entrance of the room, landing straight onto puffed-up blonde hair adorning the same bright colours as yourself with hands covered by the so-called 'plastic, ribbon ball things'—as Steve called them.

"What the hell are you doing here?! We have practice and you're captain, you can't ditch!" She placed both of her covered hands on her hips, narrowing her eyes in your direction before her gaze seemed to zoom in on one specific part. "Why is your hand all wrapped up like that?"

Something about the way her nose scrunched up in disgust as she said those words didn't sit right with you. It was almost like just the sight of the gauze repulsed her... what the hell was wrong with bandaging your hands?

"They're hurt," you responded curtly.

She merely rolled her eyes. "They're ugly is what they are. How do you expect to cheer with that?"

Okay, this dream was officially turning into a nightmare.

You stood abruptly, clenching your hands into fists before wincing as another pang of pain hit your knuckles—effectively dispersing the rage festering within you.

Though, one look at her scowling face and soon, it was back; stronger than before. "Forget it, I'm not going."

"What do you mean? You're captain."

"So you keep saying," you rolled your eyes, "where's Steve?"

"Harrington? In the library with his girl—hey! Where are you going?! We need you for practice! L/N!"

You shoved past her, making sure to very unpleasantly bump into her for being so bitchy, and continued marching down the halls.

You weren't sure where the hell the library was but you'd be damned if you weren't about to find it and have Steve haul your ass back home so that you could get a proper grip on this... whatever the hell this was.

This whole situation was insane. You almost never had dreams where you were able to enter a fictional world with scenes and interactions this vivid. Hell, you almost never had dreams in general. To go from that to this was... overwhelming to say the least.

It took a few tries (and definitely way more wrong turns than you'd care to admit) but you found the library eventually, and with it: Steve and Nancy.

"Harrington."

"Y/N?" He blinked, pushing himself off his seat beside the shorter brunette—so quick to act, in fact, that it took you a few blinks to actually register that he got up as soon as you called out to him. "What are you doing here? Don't you have practice?"

It only took one glance to his side to feel that constricting feeling in your heart again; one look at Nancy's face. She kept glancing between you and Steve, brows scrunched up with a mixture of emotions you couldn't even begin to decipher.

But nevermind her feelings right now—for all you knew, none of this was actually happening and it was probably just one big dream where you inserted yourself into the world of Stranger Things. That was why you needed Steve to take you home. You didn't know where your home even was. Steve could help.

Sorry Nance, you'll break up with him soon anyway.

"I wanna go home."

Your words immediately spurred that soft, tender look he adorned earlier back onto his face and he took a step in your direction, arms slowly stretching out towards you.

"Let's go then."

"I'll come too," Nancy's voice came out abrupt and—dare you say—panicked as she stood up just as suddenly as her boyfriend, still gazing at you with that storm in her eyes; clouded but a hint of concern slowly growing the longer she gazed at you.

You could do nothing but attempt to show her as reassuring a smile as you could muster.

It wasn't long after your little scene in the library that you entered Steve's car, marvelling a little at the old model that looked nothing like the Toyotas and Hondas you were used to seeing in your day-to-day life.

Everything was just so surreal, you couldn't help but enter a daze each time you came across something familiar and yet, entirely new (or perhaps, old) at the same time. The seats, the handles, the wheel; they all had this feel about them, one you couldn't quite place your finger on.

"You alright back there, Y/N?"

Your gaze moved to the rear-view mirror, meeting softly with those tender eyes Steve couldn't seem to help when looking at you.

You simply gave him the same shaky smile you had given Nancy earlier. His tendency to care was so sweet, just another trait of his that shot him up the list of your favourite characters from the show. Unfortunately, you couldn't indulge in it for too long, you weren't in your right mind—there was a lot about this whole scenario that you still needed to process; to think through and settle on reasonable conclusions with.

Until then, you couldn't interact much with Steve. No matter how much you wanted to.

"Alright, we're here." He turned in his seat, resting his elbow on the shoulder to gaze at you with scrunched brows. "You sure you're okay?"

You parted your lips to respond—words barely processing in your dazed mind—but it seemed as though the only other girl in the car already did it for you.

"Jesus, Steve—" Nancy rolled her eyes, "—she's fine, you don't need to baby her so much."

"I'm not..." his face scrunched up a little, as though he was trying to figure out how to react to her phrasing, before he resumed his speech, emphasising, "babying her, I'm just worried, y'know?"

It felt nice to have Steve care for you so much. Distracted you from that dull ache that shrouded your knuckles, fogging your vision up with your baffling situation and leaving you unable to manoeuvre through the vast amount of heavy mist it surrounded you with.

But that was all it was. A distraction. You didn't have time for those right now.

With that in mind, your voice pierced through their conversation as you announced, "I'm fine. See you tomorrow," before stepping out the car—one foot followed by the other—and shutting the door behind you.

Their calls practically fell on deaf ears as you marched towards the quaint house—confusion clouding your gaze; confusion that was further amplified as you closed in on the building.

The garage was open. And was that...?

"Huh?"

Legs, peeking out from the underside of a car—a tool box sat not too far from them. Then, all too suddenly, the squeak of wheels was followed by a waist, then a torso, and finally, a head.

"What are you doing home? Don't you have practice?"

You scrunched up your nose, scoffing, "why does everyone keep saying that?"

The male sat next to the car narrowed his eyes, jutting out one leg before directing a finger your way and saying—rather pointedly, might you add—"watch it. I'm the oldest."

You blinked.

"Since you're here early, make yourself useful and go get me the wrench out back, would ya?"

You blinked again.

Just who exactly was this guy?

"I'm not getting any younger here, Y/N!"

"Gheez, okay, fine. I'm going."

Guess you had to wait a little longer to set your mind straight.

The dirt felt icky underneath you, squelching with each step you took around the side of the house as it clung to your sneakers, trying desperately to sink you beneath the earth's surface. It was gross. You didn't want to do this. Why the hell were you even listening to this guy?

To make matters worse, a stupid fog was starting to cloud your vision, wafting through the air and obscuring all that was within 10 feet of you. Furthermore (as if there wasn't already enough), a harsh breeze swept over the exposed areas of your skin, rising goosebumps to their surface and causing an involuntary shiver to run down your spine.

Great. Just what you needed.

Well, at least you could see the silhouette of a shed now. And... whatever the hell that thing next to it was.

You squinted, eyes zooming in on the smaller figure ahead of you. Four legs, a tail, and a rather pointy head. Were you seeing things?

It became more apparent as you approached, however, that you were not, in fact, seeing things.

It was large—not enough to be mistaken as a human, but enough to just pass being a dog—and lanky, so very lanky. The way flesh molded around its bones was grotesque, and you shuddered to think of what it would look like without the human-looking skin covering its insides.

The thing that really hit the nail in the coffin, though—that really had your heart jumping out of your chest—was the way its head opened up, almost reminiscent of a flower, except... a flower didn't open to reveal thousands of razor-sharp teeth underneath its petals.

Thousands of razor-sharp teeth that were looking to impale you.

"Shit. Shit."

A demodog.

You were so dead.

#stranger things #stranger things x you #yandere #x female reader #x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove #yandere steve harrington #yandere eddie munson #yandere billy hargrove #.right way up

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cobaltperun · 4 months

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Lost (5) - Keep me breathing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Warning for this chapter: Talks about suicide if that can trigger you in any way, please, don't read.

Word count: 7k

Story Masterlist / First part / Previous part / Next part

-Another night that comes undone. You're the one that keeps me breathing.-

Something was missing, she felt cold and vulnerable, and she didn't feel arms around her. She was alone. She wasn’t supposed to be alone, you’ve been with her since you found out she was attacked, but now Tara woke up and you weren't in the bed with her. She was drowsy from the medicine and you not being there didn't make it any better. Why did you leave? When? How come she didn't wake up?

And then the memories came back. The knife over your chest, the way you held Ghostface's wrist, you saying you'd be right back, and then the terror she felt as you knelt, as you got shot, as she shot you, as you lost consciousness and were carried away by the doctors. She couldn't breathe, she felt as if something was squeezing her chest, as if no matter how hard she tried she couldn't breathe.

Her inhaler. She needed her inhaler. Tara frantically looked around until she found it. She pressed it against her lips as your words came back to her. 'Love, look at me,' that's what you said, that was definitely what you said. And it wasn’t just some friendly nickname either, this was you, and you… you’ve never called her like that. She called you Baby for a bit, when she figured out that would get you to comply with her wishes easier, but she stopped after getting together with Amber, and even while she called you that it wasn’t meant to be specifically romantic. But you calling her ‘Love’, there was nothing friendly about it, about the word you chose, about the look in your eyes, the tone of your voice.

You should have said that word four months ago. You shouldn't be saying that word now that she shot you. Now that you bled for her. Now that you...

Did you survive?

She tore the tubes off, not even registering the lack of pain, she didn't even consider just how strong the painkillers were if she wasn't feeling that excruciating pain she felt earlier. Someone had to tell her what happened to you. When she last saw you you blacked out and doctors took you away from her. Someone grabbed her by the shoulders and she tried to push whoever did that away. "Miss Carpenter you have to stay in bed," it was a nurse and she was already calling for doctors.

"Y/N! How is she?" she paused for a moment. "Uh, Y/N L/N, she was shot earlier. Please tell me how she is?" she needed to hear you were alive. You had to be. You wouldn't leave here like this. What kind of twisted reality would she be living in if you were dead. Born sick, abandoned, neglected, attacked in her own home just to get Sam back to Woodsboro, if this was how she lost you as well… as consumed by despair, terror and guilt as she was a sick thought that it would have been better if she was killed the first time she was attacked crossed her mind.

"She's alive, miss L/N had a mild heart attack, her injuries are serious, but she is expected to make a full recovery. Now get back in bed and don't tear anything else off," the knowledge that you were alive calmed her down, chased away the despair driven thoughts she had. But still, a heart attack. Was that what was happening while you were carrying her? The guilt gnawed at her chest, if it wasn't for her you'd be fine. It was all her fault that you were in that condition.

The nurse helped her back into the bed and probably noticed the look on Tara's face. "Sorry about putting it like that, I should have been more considerate. I just had to answer the same question two hours ago."

Tara looked at the nurse. "W-What?" did she wake up before and couldn't remember it?

"Heart attack and that girl still tried to force her way to you. Wouldn't calm down until we told her you were fine and even then, we still had to sedate her to keep her from reopening her wounds," Tara looked away, embarrassed by the shy smile she couldn't keep off her face and the blush that clearly had no intention of fading any time soon.

"Give it an hour or so and we'll see if there's anything we can do to put you in the room together," the nurse assured her and left as the doctors came in to check on her.

As they checked her wounds and made sure none of them reopened Tara thought back to what you said right before Sam came and saved the two of you.

'Just in case I don't get another chance. You saved a life that had no right to continue. So let me-' you didn't get to finish whatever you were saying, but she knew whatever you were about to say wasn't something she wanted to hear.

There was so much you kept from her, the agreement, as you called it, between you and your parents, the reason behind such an agreement, and now this. According to you, Tara saved a life that had no right to continue. She didn't get it. She refused to make the connection between a 'life that had no right to continue' and your life, but what other life could you have been talking about?

Somehow, as high as she was from all the painkillers, she kept thinking back to one particular moment, about a year after Sam abandoned her.

~X~

Her mom was getting ready again. By now Tara recognized each sign her mom would go out, she recognized the patterns that told her how long she'd be alone. By the looks of it, she wouldn't be seeing her mother for at least two days, perhaps even three.

It's been a year since Sam left, no, abandoned, Tara, and the house Tara lived in felt less and less like home with each day that passed. Her mother didn't even bother to lock the doors, let alone say something to Tara. An 'I'll see you later' would have been enough to soothe Tara, but she didn't even get that. She was well-behaved, she did her best at school, she didn't cause any trouble. Surely her mother wouldn't leave her.

What would happen if she did? If she left Tara all alone? Would someone force Sam to come back and get her? Or would someone try to contact her father first? Would they even want to take her in? They left her, so no, she didn’t think they would. Would she be stuck in foster homes? The only person who she believed would want to take her in was you. And you weren’t eighteen yet, so you couldn’t do that. But what if her mom abandoned her after you turned eighteen? Would your parents let her stay with you? They probably would, though not because they liked her. No, Tara was sure they didn’t like her, especially your dad, but you’d talk them into letting her stay. She’d stay with her best friend, she’d live with her best friend, she could sneak into your room to watch a movie whenever, and not just on rare nights she was allowed to stay at your place.

Somehow, that thought, that the moment you turned eighteen you’d be able to prevent anything from keeping the two of you apart, comforted her. When she thought like that, she didn’t hope that her mother would never abandon her, she just hoped she wouldn’t abandon her in the next two years.

Almost on auto-pilot, she unlocked her phone and called you. It rang for a while. That didn't worry her, it always took you a bit to pick up your phone. if you weren't at school or with her you were most likely training, so it took you some time to answer the phone. She counted seconds in her head and then, just as she reached twenty-seven seconds you picked up, slightly out of breath.

"How's it going Snuggle Tar-Bear," despite the anxiousness squeezing at her chest she smiled at the nickname. It sounded like she did interrupt your training, you were a bit out of breath.

"Awful, mom won't be home for a couple of days and I'm so bored," she tried to sound cheerful, to feign being bored and hopefully get you to skip training for at least a day. "Wanna sleep at my place tonight? I promise I won't make you watch The Babadook again," she was sure you've seen it at least five times by now, and every time it was because of her.

There was a pause for a moment. "Oh, no you don't, we're watching that damn movie. I want to see how many times it'll take for you to get bored of it."

Her smile widened. "You're coming then?" just reassure her, tell her a definitive yes and that's all she'd need for now.

"Yeah, I'll be there in about an hour. I just need to get something done and I'll come over," there it was, the reassurance she needed. As long as she had you, she’d never be alone, that’s how it was for years now.

"Great, don't take too long," she couldn't hide the eagerness in her voice, you've been busy over the past few days, and she missed you.

"The longer you talk the longer it'll take me to get there," you were teasing her, but there was a bit of seriousness to that statement, so with a rushed 'Bye' she hung up. With a happy grin on her face, she rolled onto her stomach and buried her face in her pillow. Just an hour to go, she could wait that long. She looked around her room, at the framed photos, one of you and her, when her and Mindy won an award for their short movie. One of her family, while it was still whole, and one of her and Sam, the last two photos were bittersweet, memories of times that would never come back, and she always felt a mix of feelings when looking at them. That was why she kept the gifts from Sam and her dad in her drawer, only pulling them out when she missed them the most. There were bits of your presence in the room, even aside from the photo. The Babadook DVD you bought her, among a few others, the snow globe with three reindeer she liked, and you got for her. You were a part of her life, a part she never wanted to lose, a part she was sure she’d never lose. With the grin she couldn’t wipe off her face she stood up and went downstairs to watch the TV to pass time before you came to her house.

The house… unlike her room, didn’t feel like home. The liquor cabinet she despised, the bare furniture, with barely anything personal in the way the rooms were organized. The cold permeating the house had nothing to do with the dull colors, it had everything to do with the absence of people in it, the silence that was rarely filled, and the size of it that enhanced the sense of loneliness. So, she rarely spent time outside of her room, unless someone came over.

A bit over an hour later she heard knocking on her front door and jumped to her feet. You were there and you looked... tired? It didn't show in the way you carried yourself, but there was a sense of exhaustion in your eyes. "Hey, are you okay, Y/N?" she reached up and, despite that not being what she usually did, caressed your cheek. She didn't like the way your eyes widened at that, as if you got caught doing something you shouldn't.

"I'm here, I'm okay," back then she had no idea it would take four years to figure out what those words meant, back then she just took those words as you saying you wouldn't be there if something was seriously wrong. And she figured that was true because if something was actually seriously wrong, you'd be there trying to fix it, not here with her watching a movie and having a sleepover. So, when you stepped in and picked her up, when your arms trembled around her, she brushed it off as fatigue from training. When you took a few extra seconds to let her go she explained it by you missing her. That explanation felt good. Someone missed her. Her dad didn't. Her mom wouldn't. Sam didn't. You did. So, she went with that explanation. "Thanks for calling, I'm sorry you had to," from the moment you said those words that exhaustion she saw sort of faded away and you were back to normal.

~X~

You woke up again five minutes ago and while you wanted to go and find Tara to make sure she was fine you needed to make a phone call. Which made the white ceiling above you extremely interesting, frankly, a white sheet of paper would have been worked as a distraction given who you had to call.

"Come on, you're not afraid of one phone call," who were you lying to, you were more afraid of this phone call than almost anything in the world. The only thing that ever scared you more was seeing that gun pointed at Tara, but now you didn’t have adrenaline fueling you. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the button and waited.

"Susan Smith, how may I help you," you immediately recognized the voice. You immediately wanted to hang up, to pretend you called the wrong number and forget about this. You couldn’t though, you had to keep Tara safe, and she would be the safest if she also had medical care available to her. "Hello?"

You swallowed, getting over your fear for Tara’s sake. "Uh, good evening, I guess, I'm-"

"Y/N?" oh, this was definitely not how you wanted this conversation to go. You did not imagine she would recognize your voice.

"Yeah, it's me, I know it's sudden, but I need help. Can I come to Sacramento with two other people? Tonight?" you spoke slowly, waiting for Susan to hang up. She didn't.

"Of course, Honey, you don't need to ask," you must have imagined it, or you were too high from painkillers, or something.

"One of the other two, Tara, she has a broken leg and she got stabbed and she also has asthma, and I don't know who else to turn to. So, I need to keep her safe, since the ones that attacked her are still out there and no one knows about you and me, and I-" you were just piling up more and more words at this point.

"Y/N, hey, I'm here for you, I'll help," Susan's words made you squeeze your eyes shut, you couldn't cry now.

"Got it. We're in Woodsboro right now, so we'll arrive sometime tonight. I'll text you when we leave the hospital," you despised how vulnerable you sounded.

"I'll be waiting. Please drive safely, okay?" she didn't change a bit. She was exactly how you remembered her, the kindest adult you ever met in your childhood.

"Thank you," you nearly cried. It was fine if you couldn't stop a tear or two, right? Just this once you could let yourself be weak, just for a moment, right?

"Thank you for choosing me," yeah, you could be weak. "It's okay, honey, let it out. It's okay," and so you just sat there, letting all the emotions you felt over the past two days flow out of you. There weren't even that many tears there to cry, but damn, did it feel good.

"Right, I'm gonna go get Tara and Sam now. See you soon," you felt lighter, much lighter, as if those tears released the tension within you that you didn’t even realize you had.

Tara's room wasn't too far from your own, she was like five doors down the hall, and you didn't even try to suppress your grin when you saw Tara awake and with Sam. "Why hello my favorite person and Sam," you leaned against the door frame as the sisters turned toward you.

"You're also so high right now," you could see the brightness in Tara's eyes even from where you stood, the relief caused by seeing you, and Sam, as if in on a secret chuckled lightly.

"There's a joke that went right over my head somewhere in the hall. Anyway, glory to the painkillers," you approached Tara's bed and crouched right next to her. "You okay?"

"You're the one that got hurt, you know?" she said incredulously.

"Meh, details. You had an asthma attack," you replied, not even looking down when you felt her hand taking your own.

"And you had a heart attack," she squeezed your hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and you placed your right hand on her forearm, lightly moving your fingers up and down along it to comfort her.

You smiled when she visibly relaxed at the gesture. "And now we're in a who got off easier contest. Well, you better be okay because I'm taking you the hell out of here."

Tara nodded. "Yeah, Sam and I just talked. She had the same idea," well that definitely made things easier.

"I'll just get Richie and we can go to Modesto," Sam said, which didn't make things easier.

"Yeah, no. Great that you're coming with us, but we're not going to Modesto and we are not taking Richie," you put your foot down. How did Sam not realize Modesto wasn't safe for Tara? Or her for that matter?

"Wait, Y/N-" Sam began, but you weren’t having it.

"I'm not waiting, Sam. Bastards are after you, right? So, they very likely know you were in Modesto before. I'm not letting you take Tara, or go there by yourself while we're at it, when it's the second most dangerous place for both of you," you didn't want to argue, you really didn't, but you would if that's what you needed to do.

Tara pulled your hand slightly, and you looked at her, smiling once again. In the end she’d choose who she wanted to go with, if you and Sam couldn’t come to an agreement. The look in her eyes told you she’d go with you. Not that you’d ever make her choose. She just got Sam back in her life, and you weren’t taking that from her. If you really couldn’t reason with Sam in any way, you’d still go with them, because no matter how dangerous the place was, you’d at least be able to fight for Tara.

Luckily, Sam contemplated your words and seemingly saw your reasoning as she nodded. “Fine,” she sighed.

"Where do we go then?" Tara asked, clearly relieved that there wasn’t an argument between you and Sam.

"Sacramento. I made a call a few minutes ago. Susan is a nurse; she can make sure your recovery is going fine and she'll let us stay at her place. Before you ask, if anyone figured out the connection between me and Susan, they'd have to be one hell of an investigator. More importantly, no one in their right mind would think I'd go to her of all people. So, it should be safe, or, at the very least, buy us time to recover," even if whoever attacked you went to your parents to ask where you could be and somehow got them to take a guess, they would never make the connection.

"Okay, what about Richie?" Sam questioned.

"One is a male, regardless of how injured I am, Amber, Mindy, Liv, they can't hold me down, and if the logic is that it's someone you or Tara know, well, now it's between him and Chad," you scrolled the news when you woke up, trying to delay calling Susan. So, you knew. You knew about Wes and Judy. It hurt, but you had to prioritize. "I don't know about you; I'd rather avoid taking that chance."

Sam nodded. "Let's get going then. You'll need some clothes right, so we should make a stop by your place. Is it still the same address?" she was pushing her emotions back, trying not to consider the possibility that her boyfriend was behind this. You honestly admired the way she focused on keeping Tara safe and nothing else.

"Nope, new address. Some of Tara's stuff is there as well, so we won't have to go back to Tara's place. I'll go pick that up, you get Tara ready and then we get the fuck out of here,” and that's how things went, sure, you were a bit irresponsible for driving in the state you were in, but it was Woodsboro, and there wasn't a lot of traffic, especially this late.

You came back to the hospital to find Sam outside with Tara and two women you didn't recognize, though one looked suspiciously like Gale Weathers. That would make the other Sidney Prescott? Oh well, none of your business. You stepped outside, placed Tara's bag on the back seat, and while smiling at Tara to reassure her you were fine reached down to pick her up.

"Y/N wait," you halted at her concerned tone.

"Yeah?" you tilted your head to the side.

Tara had the perfect 'Are you for real right now' face. "Your injuries," she reminded you.

"Really Tara? You weigh like, a hundred pounds and a potato, a very small potato by the way," you lifted her up and took a deep breath. "Okay, maybe not a very small potato, but a potato nonetheless."

Tara let out a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan as she facepalmed. "See? I told you?"

"You said, and I quote: your injuries, it's not injuries, you're just heavy. It's a potato that broke the MMA fighter's back or something like that," you reached the right side of the car and only then realized you made a grave mistake. "Uh, mind opening the doors, my hands are kinda full?"

Tara shook her hand in disbelief and tried to reach the handle with her right hand. Which didn't exactly work. "Sam, a little help here?" she called out as she looked at her left hand. She wasn't sure she could grip the handle hard enough to open the doors. The other Ghostface squeezed her injured hand and then even further injured it, not to mention she somewhat opened the wound when she was forced out of her hospital room. How bad was her hand now?

Sam was quick to open the doors and you gently sat Tara down. You made sure her leg was comfortable and closed the doors. While you placed the wheelchair and the crutches in the trunk. By the time you were done, Sam was already in the driver's seat. that was a weird experience, seeing someone else in your seat. Sure, you taught Tara how to drive, but this was different.

The moment you got in the car next to Tara she leaned over and rested her head on your right shoulder. Her bag was moved to the front seat with the bag you picked up from your apartment, thus removing any barrier between you two. It wasn't like you wanted a barrier, she just had her inhaler there, so you figured it would be better if she had it near her. Either way, Tara made a different call, so you smiled and eagerly wrapped your right arm around her. In approximately three hours you'd see Susan again and it made you anxious to think how that would turn out. She sounded eager enough to help, but still... Before you could get too worried or forget about that detail you sent Susan a message, saying you were on your way.

"Are you sure we can trust Susan?" Sam's question stopped your train of thought for a moment.

"Yeah, she's my half-brother's mother," surprisingly it wasn't difficult to say that. There was a time when even thinking about Zack felt difficult, but it looked like time did make things easier. Or maybe you just grew up and learnt to deal with it better.

"Half-brother?!" if you weren't holding her, you were sure Tara would have sat up, well, she tried but you were kinda too tired to move your arm and let her do it.

"You didn't know?" Sam really didn't phrase that question correctly.

"You did?!" the painkillers they gave Tara must have been way stronger than the ones they gave you since she pushed her way out of your grip as if she was perfectly fine. Granted, she did lean on your side to do it. The same side that got shot...

"Gah, easy Tara!" you groaned, wincing at the pain.

"Shit, sorry!" she winced, biting her lower lip when she saw you breathing through your teeth. Yup, definitely weaker painkillers.

"You okay?" Sam asked, as if her question didn't get you in this situation.

You gave her a thumbs up. "Talk it out while I recover."

"Talk what out?" and the older Carpenter was confused. How? You had no idea. Now, sure, you and Sam were never all that close, you got along mostly for Tara’s sake back when you and Tara were kids, and normally Tara would know there was no way you’d say to Sam something you weren’t willing to share with her. Right now, however, the way Sam phrased the question made it appear as if you did do just that.

"Did you know, Sam?" and Tara was right back on track, it was probably good that you were in a car and not somewhere she could properly move.

"Of course I didn't, I just thought if someone knew you'd know," Sam immediately corrected her mistake and Tara frowned.

"She's telling the truth, Tara. I didn't tell anyone. Zack's been dead for almost a decade now so there wasn't a point in mentioning him," you decided to be quick and to the point with the conversation. Hoping they'd get the hint and drop it.

"We're here if you ever need to talk, right Tara?" Sam got the hint, that was for sure, and if there was any chance whatsoever that Tara didn't, that definitely got the point across.

Tara did what only Tara could do to you. She wrapped her arms around you and, while avoiding your wounds, and her own, which was actually really impressive, leaned into you. "That goes without saying," she said with so much conviction it nearly shattered all your defenses. Before you could speak, she pressed a finger against your lips. "Don't say thank you."

You grinned at that, and she removed the finger. "This is really not a comfortable position Snuggle Tar-Bear," you joked, trying to lighten the mood. Also, you were worried about her leg. Sure, she positioned it in a way that made it seem okay, but maybe painkillers prevented her from realizing if something wasn't right.

"Don't care. You need me," she mumbled into your neck, and you gave in, shifting so the two of you were half lying on the backseat. Your upper back, which also meant one of your stab wounds, was pressed against the doors, but you figured it was worth it.

Your mind was in shambles over everything happening. Tara was attacked, you had a heart attack, Zack died from heart disease, and you were going to see Susan for the first time since Zack's funeral. You were going to see Susan, because you needed to keep Tara safe.

All of that and the memories that came with it flooded your mind. Made you restless.

It was a simple story. You met the brother you didn't know you had, he changed your life, introduced you to MMA, died, and then his death subsequently ruined your relationship with your parents. After his death, your life fell apart, going from arguing with your parents to silence, then back to arguing, then again back to silence, until even arguing ended and all that was left was to wait until you were eighteen.

That was why the discomfort and pain were worth it because Tara made those thoughts quiet. So, you closed your eyes, hoping to take a nap.

"Y/N," Tara, though, had a different idea.

"Hmm?" you didn't open your eyes, but she knew you were listening.

"What did you mean when you said I saved a life that had no right to continue?" and, as if she somehow chose this day in particular to learn everything you kept under lock and key, she just had to ask that question.

Suddenly, talking about Zack and your parents felt like an amazing idea and a wonderful way to pass the time until you got to Susan's home. You raised an eyebrow, silently wondering if she really had to make you bare your soul to her sister as well? You liked Sam, you really, genuinely did, but not to the point of wanting to just spill everything to her. Maybe eventually, if she decided to stick around and you got close, but not now.

And then there was the fact that she did, in fact, abandon Tara. Now, you weren’t in any position to criticize her for leaving, you knew Christina Carpenter, anyone would want to get as far from that woman as possible. You, yourself, wanted to take Tara away from that place the moment she turned eighteen. So, no, you didn’t blame Sam for leaving, you blamed her for leaving Tara, because she could and should have stayed in contact with Tara, and not just vanish without a trace. But she came back, and was ready to fight to protect Tara, so that was enough for Sam to go back to the list of people you liked.

Immediately, another thought popped into your head, and you realized Sam being there was a blessing in disguise. Tara asked you a direct question and if there was one rule you lived by it was that a direct question needed to be answered and answered honestly. Knowing what the answer was and knowing how Tara was going to react you figured having Sam there would be beneficial. At least, with Sam hearing it from you, it would avoid Tara needing to talk to someone other than you about it and then awkwardly explaining the issue without revealing what you told her.

"I nearly killed myself," Tara froze, Sam nearly got all three of you killed with how abruptly she hit the brakes in the middle of the road, you barely kept you and Tara on the back seat. Luckily you hadn’t reached the highway yet so the car behind you had enough time to stop. "Sam, please, if I have to die in my own car, at least let me be behind the wheel," you groaned, delaying the moment you would have to look Tara in the eyes as the driver that was behind you furiously flipped you off. For once you figured it was a well-deserved middle finger.

You finally glanced down. Tara looked heartbroken, it was the only word that could describe the look on her face. "What?" you hated how choked her voice sounded. So, you spoke. You told the story.

There was no way you could ever forget that day. You dreaded the potential of that day ever coming up in a conversation with Tara, yet here you were. All because you couldn't keep your mouth shut. 'Now deal with the consequences,' was all you could think.

~X~

It's been half a year since you made an agreement with your parents. The moment you turned eighteen you'd leave the damn place and never see them again. You'd stop arguing, you'd play the role of their daughter in their sick facade of a perfect little family. They, in turn, would have no say in anything you were doing as long as it didn't tarnish their reputation.

So, now, with fighting off the table all that remained was silence. Silence at home. Silence at school, because Woodsboro wasn’t exactly welcoming to newcomers and not a lot of people accepted your love for MMA and the way it shaped your body. And while your training and skill in martial arts protected you from bullying, most people didn’t want to associate with you. Silence. Silence. Everything was silent. The only one filling the silence was Tara and to an extent her friend group, but you weren't part of that group. You were Tara's slightly older friend.

They messed you up. Your parents, that is. And now here you were. Lying on your bed. The phone was on do not disturb. And you looked to your right.

To the gun on your pillow.

Thousands of thoughts and questions plagued your mind, yet not a single one became coherent enough to latch on to it. To maybe get you to put the gun back in your parents' room. To forget it existed and keep going.

You sat up.

Why do it? A small part of you wondered. A much larger part responded with another question. Why not?

You reached out and placed your hand on the gun.

Silence ends with a bang. The emptiness will be filled. Everything begins and ends in a single moment.

And then, just as you placed your finger on the trigger, The Babadook theme began playing. Startled, you nearly dropped the gun, but somehow you managed to safely put it away and, albeit with shaky hands, managed to pick your phone up and answer. "How's it going Snuggle Tar-Bear," you hated how out of breath you sounded.

"Awful, mom won't be home for a couple of days and I'm so bored," Tara's voice was a reminder of what you almost did. How did it get to this point? "Wanna sleep at my place tonight? I promise I won't make you watch The Babadook again."

You weren't sure how long you didn't speak, but when you did you somehow managed to sound normal, like you weren't about to put a bullet through your head. You felt the need to throw up as you kept the conversation going. You had to end it, you had to... you didn't know what you had to do.

The call ended and you dropped down on your bed, biting the pillow to keep any sounds from coming out. The fuck was going on with that timing? You somehow managed to set an alarm to go off in half an hour and just closed your eyes.

Your head was empty, your heart beating rapidly as your eyes landed on the gun. Were you really about to do it? Just pull the trigger? What would that solve?

You barely felt the time pass when the alarm rang and you got up, you got up while letting it ring in the background. You changed your clothes, picked up the necessary things for the sleepover, and finally turned the alarm off. You forgot to put the gun back. You were still in a daze when you reached Tara's home. You were still in a daze when she opened the doors. You only snapped out of it when she touched your cheek.

"I'm here, I'm okay," somehow your brain managed to connect the concern in her eyes and the question you barely heard. You stepped inside and picked her up, and it felt like the pieces of the puzzle you didn't even know you were trying to piece together were getting put in all the right places all at once.

You wondered why not an hour ago and as Tara, the same Tara who was already left behind by her father and by Sam, who already had to deal with an alcoholic mother, wrapped her arms around your neck and held on as if you'd leave her too, you had your answer. You had your why not. So, you didn't let go as quickly as you usually would. You held on just a bit longer, letting Tara ground you, letting her effortlessly keep you by her side. "Thanks for calling, I'm sorry you had to," for the moment the daze was gone, and you let her pull you inside, and when the theme song that stopped you from pulling the trigger played in the background of the movie began, you pulled Tara a bit closer. Tara looked up and you just smiled, silently telling her to keep watching. She raised an eyebrow at that but complied, though you did notice she held onto you a bit tighter than before.

Back then she occasionally fell asleep in your arms, but you didn't sleep in her bed. No, that only began happening shortly after Tara turned sixteen. So that night, the moment Tara went to sleep, and you were left on your own, it all just came back. Or you came back to it as if pulled back by an invisible chain. You didn't know. It didn't matter. You were being pulled back into that vortex of desperation.

You were naive. You thought finding your why not would end those thoughts. You thought it would solve everything. It didn't.

It just gave you a reason to cling on and stay alive. So, you did just that. One day at a time.

When you came back home you didn't find the gun in your room and when you went to the kitchen to get something to eat the silence was broken for the first time in almost two months. "Buy your own if you want to do it," yeah, loving parents.

~X~

"It was a struggle for a while. I'd think I was getting better, then I'd relapse back into those thoughts. One day I'd be fine, the next I'd be punching my way through the day just to stop thinking. Still, it got better over time, and," you paused, taking in the expression on Tara's face, the tears streaming down her cheeks as she kept holding onto you. "...most importantly, I never, ever, picked up the gun, or anything that could kill me, again. Never with that intention."

"Why did you never tell me?" Tara's voice was weak, small, the fingers of her right hand gingerly caressing the back of your neck. "Why did I never notice?" she sounded furious, angry at herself over not noticing sooner.

"Tara, you were already doing everything you could even without knowing about it. I'd gain nothing by telling you and you'd worry and stress about it," also saying something would mean you'd have to talk about Zack as well, and you weren't ready to talk about him now, let alone four years ago.

"For over four years. I didn't notice anything for over four years!" she was shaking now. As you feared, all of this was too much for her right now.

"Tara, please stay calm!" you could see Sam struggling not to turn around. "I get how you feel, but please stay calm. Y/N is alive. She's doing better now. You've been with her, right? You were kids, that was as much as anyone could have asked of you."

"I wasn't there. For the last three months, I wasn't there," and in those three months, you were feeling lost. Her eyes met yours and you could see the turmoil she was feeling. Her eyes were always the most expressive eyes you had ever seen. "I left you to deal with it alone. I aba-" for the first time since you've known Tara you placed your hand over her mouth. She could say anything else, but never what she was about to say.

"Don't even think that," you warned. "Never think that," you couldn't let her go there, to let those thoughts consume her. "You couldn't know," slowly you moved your hand from her mouth and gently brushed a few strands of hair behind her ear.

"I should have known."

"I didn't let you."

She wasn't quite as calm as you or Sam would have liked her to be, and you could see the turmoil in her eyes, you could feel it in her grip, in her refusal to let you go. She had the same expression she had earlier in the hospital, while she was desperately trying to put pressure on your wound. That got you thinking and without considering the idea for more than a few seconds, without considering her relationship with Amber you leaned in and kissed her left cheek.

You gave Tara plenty of time to react, to say something, or do anything to even imply you crossed a line. She didn't, instead, she let out a shaky breath. "Y/N," there was something different in the way she whispered your name.

"I'm here, Tara. I'm not going to leave you. I'll be in your life for as long as you want me to be," you whispered soft reassurances hoping it would calm her down.

"For the rest of my life then," Tara said with certainty that made you think your heart skipped a beat or two. It definitely began beating faster and you could only nod, not really trusting your voice to stay on your side if the conversation continued.

You'd have to pretend you didn't notice Sam glancing back at the two of you and giving you a 'You're dead if you hurt her' stare when you stopped at a traffic light.

You were fine with that, after all, you’d never hurt Tara. You loved her enough to go through anything, to fight anyone, to face whatever consequences, to give up on something and create something, Even more now that she nearly died, now that you nearly lost her you were not going to let anyone get between you two. As long as Tara wanted you by her side, you’d stay right there.

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader

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eqt-95 · 5 months

Text

a new kind of romance, pt 7

part 6 | cuddles - - - -

🎁 | mistletoe magic

“Ooh, look she’s doing it again.”

“Doing what?” Kara asked, shrugging off her jacket to join Nia and Brainy at a hightop laden with empty glasses.

“Mistletoe magic,” Nia sighed fondly.

“Mistletoe what-?” Kara glanced at Brainy who looked flush with a smudge of Nia’s shade of red on his own lips, and then her eyes tracked to Kelly and Alex two tables away giggling under the glowing branch of green leaves that glistened with the telltale golden sparks of magic. Of Lena’s magic. “Oh.”

She found the culprit loitering on the far end of the bar nursing a drink, smiling, and looking totally and completely huggable, and Kara’s mood immediately brightened. Not that it was sour: it was Al’s holiday party after all.

Kara’s natural reaction to seeing Lena was to superspeed over and engulf her into a super-sized hug and hope the burst of surprise and laughter would land quiet and private into the crook of her neck.

She very nearly did exactly that except just as she was about to shift into sixth gear and race over Kara realized Lena wasn’t alone. More specifically, she was bookended by two people: Sam and... Andrea.

Which was… fine. Kara loved Sam and all the support she had for Lena. But Andrea? Kara was trying to find warmth for Andrea.

“How long has she been here?” Kara asked before the green-eyed monster could be swallowed down.

“Who?” Nia asked, distracted by a stuffed potato skin.

“No one," Kara blinked, brushing away imaginary crumbs from the table, "nothing. Forget it-”

“I believe Kara is referring to either Ms. Rojas or Ms. Arias,” Brainy interrupted, being all correct and stuff. Kara shot him a dark look that went missed because he was still trying to rub off remnants of lipstick.

“Oh, dunno,” Nia replied with a shrug. “I think they came together?”

“Sam and Andrea?” Kara asked for confirmation even though she definitely didn’t care.

“No, Andrea and Lena.”

“Oh. Sure. Right.”

Positively, absolutely, for sure wasn’t bothered by that.

“Why?” Kara asked nearly a minute later, interrupting a conversation she wasn’t listening to.

Nia paused mid-sentence and glanced at a very distraught-looking Kara. “Why what?”

“Why did they come together?”

“Who?”

“I believe Kara is referring to Ms. Rojas and-”

“Did they have a work meeting?” Kara interrupted, eyes jumping back toward Andrea who was far too cozy and far too close to Lena which was… fine. It was. It really was.

Nia’s mouth opened to respond. Then it closed. Then her eyes narrowed. Then they lifted. Then a smirk the size of the Nile spread across her face. “Why do you care?”

And Kara didn’t like the Nile-sized smile. She didn’t like it one bit. “No reason.”

“I dunno. Brainy, does she look a bit jealous to you?”

“I’m not-” Kara tried to cut in - whined, practically.

“Kara, you do look rather, as they say, ‘put-out’.”

“Does it have anything to do with Andrea subtly guiding Lena toward that mistletoe next to them-?”

“What? She isn’t-”

“Or are you just jealous Lena’s full attention is on her ex at all?”

Two things happened next: the first was that Kara fish-mouthed and blushed furiously because yea, obviously she was jealous. Who wouldn’t be jealous of someone getting Lena’s time. Not that Kara wanted to control her time or who she spent it with or…

And then the second thing happened. And that second thing was like an Acme anvil falling on her Wile E. Coyote state of confusion: she registered Nia's actual words.

“Her ex? Who’s ex? Sam’s ex? You… you mean Sam and Andrea, right? They’re exes?”

Right? she shouted in her brain and maybe out loud.

The look on Nia’s face did not support this thesis because the look on Nia’s face was like she was looking at an alien, which technically Kara was, but ‘idioms’.

“I don't know about Ms. Aria, but Ms. Rojas dated Lena for a number of years at boarding school,” Brainy confirmed and shattered Kara’s hopes and dreams and maybe her heart too just a little bit because at that exact moment Lena burst into laughter and Andrea looked so proud for being the source of said laughter and no, Kara’s eyes were not glowing red that would be preposterous but if they were it’s not like anyone would notice with all the colorful lights hung everywhere-

“Hey you know your eyes are glowing, right?” Nia asked before sucking up a bright purple drink from a tiny blue straw and smiling like the dang cheshire cat.

Ok, so yea, maybe her eyes glowing red wasn’t, like, the greatest.

“I need to get some food,” Kara mumbled, abandoning Brainy and Nia for the bar where M’gann was telling off a drunk Haverack wobbling on of his stool and J’onn was stepping up to intervene. Before his stony disposition could do its trick though, a tickle of gold flecks from overhead stalled the entire confrontation.

Kara wasn’t going to pout. She wouldn’t do that. She was a way calmer, cooler, collected-er kryptonian than that.

What Kara was going to do though was lean against the bar and stare longingly at M’gann laughing when J’onn pointed to the glowing mistletoe that had not-so-subtly appeared above them.

The Haverack fell off his stool again, but that wasn’t what kept Kara’s attention.

“I’m sure M’gann is willing to share, darling.”

It wasn’t fair that Lena could make Kara jump and send her super calm, cool, collected demeanor catapulting out the nearest window with a little whisper. It also wasn’t fair that Lena was so so pretty leaning in next to her while wearing nothing more than a simple pair of jeans and sweater. A sweater that was too long in the arms and bunched at Lena’s wrists and made Kara want to pull her close and fly her home and wrap them both in a blanket for the rest of eternity.

Naturally Kara replied with a stammer and in a fit of indecision, she grabbed Lena's hand and also winked and then booped her head against Lena's shoulder.

Which was far from normal. It was because Lena was so pretty tonight.

But Lena was always pretty. She could make cardboard overalls look good. And sure, Kara had seen from a distance that she was just as jaw-dropping as ever, but seeing her up close? in Kara’s own space? where she could get lost in Lena’s soft pretty skin? where she could feel the piercing meant-only-for-her gaze and get all sorts of weak-kneed and breathless? where she could take in the perfect shampoo-perfumey-Lena mix that couldn’t be imitated because Kara, curious and missing Lena while she was off saving acquisitions and mergers once in Shanghai, had tried recreating the scent but failed?

“I thought you weren’t going to make it. Duty calling and all that.”

“I’ve got one ear on the city, and deadlines can wait one more night,” Kara explained, trying to ignore the distraction that was Lena. Always Lena.

"Don't let Cat hear you say that," Lena smirked.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Just the usual: M’gann’s eggnog has half the bar dancing, though it looks like some hit it a bit too hard,” Lena said with a nod toward the passed-out Haverack, “and Nia is dragging Brainy under every green leaf in the place,” Lena chuckled. "Not sure whose going to tap out first."

“It sounds like someone is to blame for that ‘mistletoe magic’,” Kara replied, nudging Lena with her shoulder.

Lena hummed, her feigned ignorance betrayed by a revealing smirk.

“Care for some?”

“S-some?” Kara choked, ears ringing.

“Mistletoe magic,” Lena explained slowly, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arching with the elegance of a chandelier or an umbrella or hand-painted porcelain or-or… Kara didn’t know. She wasn’t thinking clearly.

Kara glanced across the bar toward Alex who was giving her a knowing stare and supportive smile that really looked more like a grimace mixed with nausea which meant only one thing: here it was, the chance. The chance Kara had spent minutes and hours and days pacing and hoping and yammering Alex’s ear off for.

She had gone through every stage of fretting and panicking and unintentionally tearing her couch cushions in half before Kelly’s calmer touch gave her the confidence to believe in her own feelings and maybe - maybe - even Lena's.

Because that’s what Lena was implying now, right?

It was a frosting-covered finger. It was an intimately placed zipper. It was nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Now was the chance to put those feelings in motion. It was the perfect setting: holiday tunes were playing, lights were twinkling, the laughter and raucous of friends and family surrounded them. It couldn’t be any better, which was why Kara took a readying breath, propped herself against the bar in a way she hoped looked confident, and offered what Alex would later call the most manic-looking smile she’d ever seen.

“Well if it’s on the table…” Kara began bravely with a throat-clearing to steady herself, “uh, do I get to… er, you know,” she continued with the elegance of a newborn calf taking its first steps, “to pick?”

The wagging eyebrows probably didn’t help her efforts because she was met with a small Lena scowl that made Kara swallow and mutter some incoherent set of sounds and extend her finger toward the sprinkle of mistletoe hanging around the bar like Lena didn’t understand.

But then Lena said “oh” in this small sort of way that made Kara think that maybe Lena didn’t understand. So she clarified:

“Put me in, coach!” Kara said, puffing up her chest with the kind of confidence reserved only for superheroes and poorly thought through actions.

And technically they were words. Maybe not the best words. Definitely not her best words. But together, it made a semi-coherent sentence that surely - definitely - made her intentions clear.

“Put you… in? I wasn’t… I meant-”

“You meant that since everyone else is… you know...” Kara said conspiratorially with a hand gesture that was meant to say everything else. “I don’t wanna miss out on that holiday spirit, right?”

“I didn’t, uh,” Lena began, a small cough and blush making her discomfort clear which made Kara want to hoover back those misguided intentions real fast and keep her dumb mouth shut.

Then Lena’s scowl deepened to a version Kara wasn’t familiar with and definitely couldn’t identify which made Kara’s heart plummet. “Right, of course. Who did you-”

“I call dibs!” came an excited shout from behind Lena.

And yea, maybe Kara should’ve been better at observing her surroundings because there was Sam.

Who was standing on the other side of Lena.

The whole time.

Not like it could be Kara’s fault though: Lena just had a way of making the rest of the world disappear.

“Uh- '' Kara stammered because that technically - definitely - was not what she meant and having Sam sidekick her way through Kara’s ‘feelings’ reveal was not the chance she had pictured. But from the look of tempered frustration on Lena’s face, maybe she should be thanking Sam.

“Pucker up babes,” Sam said, dancing around Lena to split the two. “Lena, you don’t mind, right?” Sam asked, eyes bright and mischievous and far too excited for Kara’s waning courage.

“I don’t really think Kara needs my permission,” Lena replied with a tone that sounded… mad? Was Lena mad?

“I meant the green leafy goods; get your magic hands moving, Luthor,” Sam said, jazz hands waving at her own sides.

“I-I'd only meant it for, uh, real couples-”

“Oh,” Kara answered while a ton of metaphorical bricks squeezed her chest empty of air and hope and confidence.

Kara peered past Sam toward Lena who looked flush and annoyed and her jaw was clenched like a vice and, oh gosh, Kara had misread the whole situation.

Maybe it wasn’t a frosting-covered finger or an intimately placed zipper or nonexistent personal boundaries that Kara wanted and wanted and wanted.

Maybe Kelly and Alex had talked her into a false sense of security. Maybe she had just barged in and ruined a perfectly good time. Had she just ruined a perfectly good friendship? Kara didn’t have an answer so instead she stared at the floor which was peppered with fallen mistletoe leaves and dirty napkins and cobwebs and… was that a ring?

“Oh relax, Lena. What’s the harm in a little-”

“Sam, enough-”

“I was kidding,” Kara practically shouted as an uncomfortable hand fidgeted with a pair of absent glasses.

For having super hearing, Kara could only make out pin-drop silence, Sam’s shocked “what?” and Lena’s racing heartbeat.

“There isn’t, you know… I was just kidding. Can you imagine that? Supergirl kissing someone? Here? And-and besides, Lena’s right - you’re right,” Kara rambled, looking at her best friend who was decidedly not looking at her, “real couples only, and there isn’t, you know, anyone here who… uhm, yea.”

And then she forced a laugh because she wanted all of it to end.

It sort of did after that:

Awkwardness ensued through silent sips and half-glances. Sam did her best to rope in the others, but Kara couldn’t shake the discomfort.

Then Alex and Kelly offered their goodbyes - “babysitters are expensive!” - with Kara getting a tighter hug than usual from Alex that didn't make anything feel better.

Sam followed moments later with a matching reason and what looked like an apologetic smile - “minus the babysitter part. Ruby would skin me alive if I hired a babysitter. She already thinks she’s twenty.”

Nia, with Brainy in tow, made some excuse about needing to replace a lightbulb that no one believed because by then the color Nia’s lips had started the night with was now the color of Brainy's face, neck, and collar.

Which left Kara and Lena, and boy did Kara want to apologize for overstepping. Her fingers tapped on a bottle she didn’t remember getting while mustering the courage and bravery she thought she remembered having. She almost found it again.

Almost.

Except that’s the exact moment Kara realized it wasn’t just her and Lena, because Andrea picked that exact moment to reappear.

“Where’d everyone go?”

Lena said words and Kara nodded but didn’t hear. What she did hear was Andrea’s suggestion that they call it a night. Then she heard Andrea propose she and Lena share a cab - “we live two blocks apart, after all” - and within seconds had both jackets at the ready.

Then Lena, who hadn’t said another word to Kara all night, looked briefly conflicted toward Kara before nodding.

“Goodnight, Kara.”

And then it did end. It ended without the right words or a hug and definitely not a kiss. It ended before it even began with Kara standing alone under a branch of forgotten mistletoe.

- - - - - - part 8 | new years

#but when did that mistletoe appear?!?!#what is brevity #symptoms of writing #new romances #supercorp #supercorp ficlet #lena luthor #kara danvers

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madefornurses · 10 months

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STM32 bare metal guide for future embedded projects (part 1)

This course was created mostly for students, but also for people wishing to start their career on this path to gain general knowledge of embedded systems. When starting with embedded systems, from my experience and the experience of others, the problem is that there are many unclarities when it comes to reading the documentation and schematics, and later on combining it with programming at the…

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#current trends and issues in nursing #current trends in nursing #future trends in nursing #new trends in nursing #nursing today transition and trends #registered nurse definition #trends and issues in nursing #Trends in nursing #trends in nursing education

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nova-amor · 5 months

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𓈒∘☁︎ ◜ 𝐮𝐧𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ◞

𝐜𝐰 — 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐨𝐜! 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭(?), 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐞𝐬, 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 — 𝟓.𝟏𝐤

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 — 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 & 𝐮𝐧𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞-𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐢𝐭. 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐝𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 😔

There was a faint ringing in your ears, your eyes straining to count the individual fibers threaded into Peter’s pink bathrobe. There were a few stray strings you resisted the urge to pluck. A faint mystery stain or two embedded into the material that you were sure no amount of Shout spray or Tide detergent could get out.

Had he tried a simple solution of vinegar and Oxy-clean to get the stains out? That always seemed to work on your husband’s clothing; you’d have to relay the information to Mary-Jane next time you saw her. You were sure she had a few household tricks of her own to share too; after being married to a Spider-Man for years, you learn a thing or two about maintaining spandex suits and cleaning up wounds post-missions.

Maybe you should write a book. Yeah, definitely— an instructional booklet detailing the little tips and tricks you had picked up through the years of being married to a superhero. Maybe you could gather a few advisory notes from the other spouses who were willing to share.

You could even get the book published; but what would you name it? “How to Take Care of Your Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man.”? “The Art of Being a Hero’s Wife.”? Or, “The Good Wife’s Guide: Embracing Your Role as a Superhero’s Nurse, Guy-in-the-Chair, Home-maker.”?

No, none of those sound right. You’d have to think about this one.

“Hey!” Peter’s voice snapped you from your thoughts, your blinks slow as you registered what had happened. How long had you spaced out?

“Earth to Mrs. O’Hara!” There was something special about Peter, something unique to this particular Peter variant. Maybe it was his crooked smile or his kind eyes. Or, maybe it was his keen ability to recognize when someone was upset and offer them help without really offering it— a skill that the other Peters you had met didn’t quite have.

“You doing okay?”

Shuffling in your office chair, the leather material squeaking in synchronization with your nervous adjustments. Were you okay? You had gotten enough sleep the night before, you had your morning coffee, you had no deadlines or mission reports to file, and you nor your husband were being attacked by villains. So, you are okay— you have no reason not to be. Right?

“Sorry, yeah, I’m fine,” You reassured Peter, trying your best to not notice the minuscule frown tugging at his lips. You dodged his heavy gaze, glancing over to your black computer monitor. You reached for the mouse, giving the item a slight wiggle to awaken the computer from its state of rest. “You were asking me something, right? A question?”

Peter’s eyes followed your fingers dance across the keyboard, typing in the password to unlock your computer. It was your wedding date. Peter looked back at you, choosing to ignore how you hesitated to press the final numeral key.

“Yeah, you can say no, but would you and Miguel be willing to watch Mayday for a few hours this Sunday?” inquired Peter as he sought out one of the balls at the end of your mini Newton’s cradle. He drew back the metal ball, far enough that once released, the loud smack of the ball knocking against the other pieces drew your attention back to him in annoyance. Peter offered his signature crooked smile, the gesture serving as a good enough apology.

“I don’t know, Pete,” Your cursor hovered over your email box, a recent notification pinging in the corner. It was most likely another email from your therapist— another Peter variant, funny enough. You had skipped out on the last few planned sessions without notice. “You know how much I love Mayday, but I’d have to talk to Miguel first and the house isn’t equipped for a child’s safety. And, I’m not even sure if Miguel can handle being around kids right after the whole… you-know-what situation.”

Peter nodded, “I totally get that, but I already asked a few friends back on my Earth and Jessica and they said no; and, you know I really wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t have anyone else to turn to,” Oh, so he was going to play that card. “MJ and I haven’t had a night off from taking care of Mayday in months and I want to surprise MJ with a nice date night this weekend. You’d only be watching Mayday for a few hours, promise, and she’s such a sweet kid—”

Peter was quick to pull his phone out from his pocket, “Like, look at this face,” He shoved his phone screen into your face, showcasing an image of Mayday in a baby’s version of a Spider-Man suit to you. You blinked, the picture of the little girl tugging at your heartstrings— she was a cute kid, a perfect combination of her mother’s features and her father’s personality. “Tell me you wouldn’t want to spend a few hours with this cutie! You’re really gonna say no to that smile?”

You grabbed at Peter’s phone, shamelessly scrolling through the dedicated Mayday photo album that housed thousands of images of his child. You loved her bright green eyes, her rosy cheeks, her toothy grins. You couldn’t deny that the idea of taking care of her wasn’t a good one.

As you passed Peter’s phone back to him, you recognized the look of triumph on his face. “Let me at least talk to Miguel first,” You sighed, the smile on his face stretching into a fat grin. “I’ll let you know by tonight, but I can’t guarantee you that he’ll say yes.”

“Good enough for me!” Peter clapped his hands together. The watch on his wrist began to beep rapidly, a signal that there was a new mission on another Earth.

Peter gave you a sheepish smile as a glitchy orange portal appeared behind him, “I’ll talk to you later, okay? Let me know how it goes; see you later!” And, he was off with a quick wave.

The portal closed slowly behind him, the soft hum of the moving universe filling the empty air until it was gone with a mellow whoosh. You turned back to your monitor screen, slinking back into the cushions of your chair. You processed the question over again, your gaze settling on the background image of your computer screen as you mulled over what had just occurred.

It was an image of you and your husband from a few years ago— your arms laced around each other’s waists, large smiles painted across your faces, the two of you clad in all white.

Even the backdrop was a reflection of what a perfect day it had been— the sky cloudless and heaven’s painted a wondrous range of pink, orange, and purple hues, the lake calm and as still as glass beneath your feet.

You could still remember the smell of the sweet air, feel the faint cool breeze on your skin, taste the lingering flavor of your husband’s lips on yours. It had been your wedding day— you two had planned an elopement and held an intimate ceremony on the white sandy beach of Las Coloradas, and then spent the rest of the following week traveling around the northern coast of the Yucatán for your honeymoon.

You had been so happy, so in love, so full of life. Everything was perfect back then. And, if you could reach through the image and teleport back to that time, you would do so in an instant. Without a single moment’s hesitation.

But, your husband hadn’t invented that technology— yet.

“Miguel?” Your knuckles hovered over the closed door of your husband’s office, your feet glued to the wooden hallway floor. You chewed on the inner flesh of your cheek, contemplating whether or not this was an appropriate time to disturb him. But, you had told Peter you would talk with Miguel tonight— and you would rather be damned than let one of your friends down.

“Miguel, I need to ask you a question; can I open the door?” You pressed your ear to the door, craning to hear if there was any noise on the other side. You weren’t even sure if he was home anyway. You had barely seen him all day, only seeing one another in passing in between meetings and mission debriefs. “Miguel, I swear to God—”

“Entra.” You blinked at the sound of his muffled voice. So, he had been home. And, he hadn’t even acknowledged you.

Not wanting to waste another second, you pried open the office door, immediately being greeted by the sight of your husband lounging in his office chair. Your feet were weighed down by lead, unable to bring yourself to step foot into his sacred space. It had been so long since you had been in such close proximity to your husband, not since that fateful night almost a year ago.

“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to interrupt you,” Whether it was by divine intervention or a sudden power boost in confidence, you mustered up the strength to step foot into the lion’s den. Your eyes glazed over the office space, taking in the area that Miguel had been frequenting every night for the last year.

His office was exactly like you had last seen it: the walls painted a rich, deep shade of taupe and lined with certificates and bookshelves; the couch you two had purchased was still tucked into a far corner with an accompanying side table decorated with an old framed photo of you; his desk centered in the room, littered with papers and computer monitors.

Your gaze finally settled on Miguel. Under any other circumstance, you would have playfully complimented his choice in attire— his signature Spider-Man suit replaced with a loose white t-shirt and Spider-Cat pajama pants you had jokingly purchased him years ago. You couldn’t resist finding him a bit cute in that moment; regardless of the tension between you two, you’d do anything to run your fingers through his shaggy hair and plant a kiss or two on the tops of his cheeks.

You couldn’t resist missing your husband.

“Are you going to just stand there and stare?” Miguel’s voice derailed your train of thought, yanking you back into reality. The reality where your husband couldn’t stand to be around you. “Or, are you going to tell me whatever it is you wanted to ask?”

You fought the urge to flinch, the coldness of Miguel’s tone stinging you. “Peter wanted to know if we could watch Mayday this weekend,” You came out quickly, wanting to get this moment done sooner rather than later. The longer you were in his private space, the more hurt you’d end up getting. “I told him I’d talk to you about it first since I wasn’t sure how’d you feel about it. I promised that I’d give him an answer tonight.”

Miguel raised an eyebrow, “Babysit Mayday? You want to watch a baby?”

“Well, yeah,” You answered, slightly taken aback by his question. Everyone knew how much you adored Mayday— you had been glued to Mary-Jane’s side through the entirety of her pregnancy, even being one of the first people allowed into the room after Mayday’s birth. Since Mayday’s arrival, you had been there for the Parker family through every major event in Mayday’s life and they had always welcomed you with open arms in return. Especially after the situation with Miguel.

“You know better than anyone how much I love Mayday,” You added. “And, Peter and MJ have always been good friends to me— to us. The least I— The least we could do is watch Mayday for a few hours for them.”

“When?” Miguel averted his gaze from you, focusing in on one of his many computer screens. You didn’t even have to ask, your gut already knowing exactly what he was looking at. It was a picture of her.

“This weekend. I’ll have to talk and get more details from Peter first and then I’ll be able to tell you what the plan is,” You fiddled with the edge of your shirt, attempting to direct your attention to anything other than your husband’s activities. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

Miguel’s eyebrows furrowed, his jaw hardening as he turned his attention back to you. “Yeah, I’m fine with it. Why wouldn’t I be?” He asked sharply.

You nodded, “I’m just asking,” You took a deep breath. “I just know that being around Mayday or any child has been tough for you since… the incident. And, I just want to make sure you’ll be comfortable with it.”

“I said I’m fine with it. And, if that’s all,” Miguel’s mental and emotional walls shot back up, closing you off and preventing you from being able to reach him any further. God, you’d do anything to catch just a glimpse of what was going through his mind.

“Remember to close the door on your way out.”

The rest of your evening was spent tucked in between your bed sheets with a glass of wine and a book. You tried to ignore the gaping hole in your heart, drowning your sorrows away with an expensive bottle of Bordeaux and a fantasy novel you had been recommended by one of your friends.

Yet, you couldn’t help but catch a glimpse of the space next to you. It lacked Miguel’s familiarity and warmth, the mattress cold and devoid of any fragment of his presence. You couldn’t even remember the last time he had slept in the same bed as you, the nights having blurred together as you had spent the majority of them in tears.

“LYLA!” You called out to Miguel’s A.I. assistant, her small figure appearing on Miguel’s nightstand. You set your book down on once used to Miguel’s pillow, downing the rest of your wine before devoting your attention to the A.I. being.

“LYLA, what’s Miguel been up to?” You questioned, the small figure glitching in and out for a brief moment before appearing closer beside you. “I know Miguel put up a privacy shield to prevent me from knowing what he’s been doing; but, is there any way you can give me a hint into his life?”

LYLA tapped her chin with her forefinger, taking a seat on the edge of your book. She crossed one leg over another, “I guess it wouldn’t go against my programming if I told you what he hasn’t been doing.”

You smiled at that. Regardless of whom LYLA was programmed to follow, Miguel had also created her to be independent enough to formulate her thoughts and opinions— a feature you were sure he regretted now and again.

“No, no, it wouldn’t.”

With a flick of her wrist, LYLA displayed a series of images above her— recorded moments of her spent with your husband. The images revolved in a slow scroll, displaying various situations where Miguel had ordered LYLA to project holographic images of the girl that captured his heart a year ago.

“LYLA, this needs to stop,” You whispered to the A.I. figure, flicking through the images and short video clips. Many of them were recreated memories of Miguel spending time with the girl, the sight of his wide smile infecting your heart like a disease.

The most recent image, dated just a few days ago, was of Miguel spending time with a programmed holograph of the girl. He appeared happy, smiling at the figure and laughing at something she had said. Yet, you knew your husband well enough to recognize how the light never met his eyes, those crimson eyes stormy and filled with an unmistakable sadness.

You sighed, sinking back into your pillows. Bringing your hands up to your face, you gripped onto your face, allowing the rush of emotions to wash over you like a tidal wave dragging you out to see. After a moment, you finally let out a deep breath, peeking back down to LYLA.

She seemed just as upset, toying with the edges of the small case on her phone. “It’s getting worse,” She relayed to you, her lips pursed as she moved closer to you. She then glitched to appear atop your shoulder, the faint ghost of her presence lingering by her cheek. She was trying to comfort you, and she couldn’t even touch you. “When he isn’t on missions, he’s cooped up in his office— rewatching the videos he made with her, utilizing the holograph systems to recreate her. But, it isn’t enough for him. I think he’s planning to look to other universes to find her.”

You blinked, craning your neck to the side to get a proper look at LYLA. “He can’t do that, LYLA,” You snapped at her, your tone a bit harsher than you had intended. You were quick to offer an apology, which she returned with a small smile. “It’s just— He knows the dangers of interacting with another version of her. He could destroy her world again, he’d lose her again. It’d destroy him all over again.”

“I know, but you know how Miguel is,” LYLA turned her gaze away from you, looking towards the framed image of you and Miguel on your nightstand. The photo had been taken right before your engagement, before you learned of his identity as Nueva York’s Spider-Man. Before he discovered the multiverse. “Once he gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to get him to not pursue it. He’s so stubborn that way.”

You nodded, the weight of defeat heavy on your shoulders.

“Yeah, I know,” You breathed out. “It’s one of the reasons why I married him.”

“And, here’s her backpack,” Mayday giggled in your arms, her big emerald eyes beaming at you with a toothy grin on her face. She toyed with the strings of your hoodie, wrapping the strings around her chubby fingers before tugging on them. “I packed a ton of diapers and toys and snacks and a change of clothes if she needs them and,”

You turned your attention to Peter, offering him a reassuring smile. “Peter, I think she’s good,” Mayday cooed in agreement. “You’re just going to be gone for a few hours, you didn’t need to pack the entirety of her life away for just a handful of hours.”

“I know, but,” Peter sighed, his shoulders sagging. He reached out to poke Mayday’s rosy cheek, earning an amused giggle in return. He smiled at that. “I’m just nervous, it’s the first time me and MJ are going to be away from her. And, anything can happen. And, I just really want tonight to go well and—”

“Dude,” You interrupted him, cradling Mayday close to your chest with one hand while the other found a place on Peter’s shoulder. You gave it a light squeeze, offering him an empathic smile. “Tonight’s going to go perfectly, Peter, so stop stressing so much. Plus, Mayday is going to have the time of her life with Tía [y/n] and Tío Miguel. Right, mi pequeña araña?” You raised Mayday to your lips, planting a soft kiss on her squishy cheek. Her toothy grin grew impossibly wider, basking in the warmth of your affection.

“Now, don’t you have a date to catch?” You teased, referring to the time on his watch. Peter cursed, summoning a portal back to his universe.

“Call me, text me, email me, I don’t care. If you or Mayday need something, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” Peter pressed a kiss to Mayday’s forehead, his faint stubble tickling her forehead. He then turned to take a step into the portal, pausing for a moment to look back at you and his daughter. “Oh, and another thing—”

“Peter B. Parker, leave my universe right now!” You playfully ordered, extending your pointer finger in the direction of the swirling vortex.

Peter shook his head with a smile, “Yeah yeah, I’m leaving. Love you both!”

And, with a hushed whoosh, the portal vanished— leaving you alone with just Mayday by your side.

“Well,” You tucked your hands under Mayday’s armpits, propping her up into an upright position. “What do you want to do now, May?”

Mayday could only offer you a babbled answer in return.

The next few hours passed in a blur, your time occupied by Mayday and her little shenanigans. You didn’t realize just how difficult it was to manage a Spider-kid; at her current age, she was already starting to shoot organic webs from her wrists and crawl all over the walls like her father.

You spent the majority of your afternoon chasing after her and prying her off the kitchen cabinets, doing your best to entertain her with normal activities like watching kid shows and playing with toys. But, Mayday wasn’t a normal child that could be entertained with such feeble methods.

“Maydayyy,” You whined as Mayday crawled around the living room ceiling. You weren’t even sure how she had managed to get up there in the first place, you had looked away from her for a single second to grab the TV remote and somehow she had ended up swinging back and forth on your chandelier. “Mayday Parker! Don’t make me call your dad!”

“What’s going on?” Miguel’s voice interrupted the moment, capturing both your attention and Mayday’s. The toddler shot a web at Miguel, swinging herself into his arms.

“Mayday’s been off the walls,” You sighed, plopping down to sit on the edge of your coffee table. “I forgot how draining it can be to babysit.”

Miguel adjusted the toddler in his arms, breathing out a soft whistle. His eyes glazed over the current state of the living room— toys littering the floor, the TV playing an episode of some child’s show called Bluey, and a few spilled snacks embedded into the carpet.

“You take a break,” Miguel shrugged, looking back at you. His face was devoid of any expression, yet his eyes were brewing a storm you couldn’t quite decipher. “I’ll take it from here.”

“But, Miguel,” You wanted to put up a protest. You were perfectly capable of watching Mayday. You had been doing so the entirety of the afternoon before he arrived.

Miguel shook his head, craddling Mayday in his strong arms. “It’s alright, [y/n],” Mayday reached up to toy with one of the buttons on Miguel’s shirt. You couldn’t but notice how form-fitting Miguel’s polo shirt was, your eyes raking over the sight of the sleeves straining around his thick biceps. “If you want to help, just get dinner started or something. I’ll take care of Mayday.” He assured you.

Without another word, you left for the kitchen— your heart sinking further into the black hole forming in your chest. You were supposed to be watching Mayday together, taking care of her together. Yet, per usual, Miguel had taken complete control of the situation and shut you out.

As you rummaged through the kitchen in search of ingredients to begin the dinner process, a flood of emotions washed over you. The memories of the last time Miguel had tried to control you coming back.

It had been after she died. When Miguel’s emotions were still high and unpredictable. For a month after her death, Miguel had lashed out at everyone and everything— micromanaging the entirety of the Spider society down to the finest details. Like everyone else, you had been forced to endure Miguel’s terrible attitude with an empathetic face— yet, unlike everyone else who was able to escape Miguel’s short-temper and mood swings after work, you had deal with it at home as well.

One particular evening though, after weeks of walking around on eggshells with your husband around, you had finally snapped at Miguel. The words still rang clear in your head as you recalled them, as if you had witnessed the moment through a third-perspective rather than as yourself.

“She wasn’t even your daughter!” You yelled at your husband, hot tears brimming at the edges of your eyes. Your skin scorching hot, frustration pulsing through you so hard and fast that your hands shook by your sides. After one too many times of your husband lashing out on you, it was time he got dealt the same cards. “You didn’t even want a kid up until you met her.”

“That’s not true.” Miguel bit back, rolling his scarlet red eyes. He was seated at the dining room table, the table acting as a great divider between you two. “I wanted kids— I want kids. But, you waited until the last second to tell me you didn’t want any. And, I wanted you so much, I was willing to put aside the idea of having kids so I could be with you. I sacrificed my dream to be with you.”

“I did not wait until the second, Miguel, I made it clear from the beginning that I didn’t want kids.” You retorted, curling your lip down in disgust. Choosing to ignore his usage of past tense in referral to you, you continued to push through— you needed Miguel to open up. This was the furthest he had done so since her death. “I told you before our engagement, I didn’t want kids. And, you said were okay with it. And, you were okay with is up until a couple of months when you met her. And, now because she’s dead, you want to use my womb as a factory and recreate her? That’s not going to happen.”

“You’re going to change your mind.” Miguel leaned back into his chair. “You’re going to change your mind in five, ten years and its going to be too late. And, you’re going to regret not having kids.”

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes. You were mentally exhausted, “I’m not going to change my mind. And, I’m not going to regret having kids.” You sighed. “Because I choose me. And, you choose me too when you decided to marry me even after I told you I didn’t want kids. And, if you’re having regrets about our marriage, I need to know now.”

Miguel stayed silent. A heavy pause lingering in the air between you.

“You regret our marriage?”

Your hands were wrinkled and covered in soap, the rushing water from the faucet filling the still air. The house was cold and quiet once again since Peter had just picked Mayday up a few moments prior. You had spent the past few minutes after their departure holed up in the kitchen, washing the dishes and pans you had used for dinner.

“Do you need help?” You turned your head in Miguel’s direction, his towering frame hovering in the doorway of the kitchen.

You shrugged your shoulders, holding a dripping plate out to him. Miguel was quick to take the item from your hands, grabbing a nearby kitchen towel to dry it off before placing it in the dish rack. You two stood there in heavy silence, your bodies moving in tandem with the assembly line you had formed.

“Miguel,” You broke the silence, Miguel’s hands stilling at the sound of your voice. You continued to wash the dishes, piling them on the side of the sink for him to dry. “What if we had a baby?”

Miguel blinked, taken aback. “¿Un bebé? ¿Desde cuándo querías un bebé?” He inquired, resuming his task of drying the dishes.

“Since I found you out you were re-creating Gabriella with holographs,” You stated, twisting the handle of the faucet to turn the water off. You reached for another kitchen towel to dry your hands off.

“How do you—?”

“LYLA.”

Miguel nodded, finishing the final dish and setting it into a slot along the dish rack to air dry. “[Y/n], I,” Miguel paused, pondering over what words he should say next. He was tongue-tied, unsure of how to go about the situation. “I just miss her so much and,”

“And, I never let you use me to re-create her. So you with the next best alternative,” You stated, clenching the edges of the kitchen counter. You couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze. It’d hurt too much. “And, if re-creating your daughter is going to make you love me again, be healthy and better again— so fucking be it.”

“[Y/n]...”

“Miguel, you want Gabriella back and I’m telling you I’m willing to give her to you.” You sucked in a deep breath, trying to maintain the steadiness in your voice. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

“That isn’t what I want.” He answered.

“Don’t lie to me right now, Miguel,” You hissed. “You've been pushing me away, shutting me out for a year now. Ever since she died, you haven’t been the same and I’m offering you the chance to see her again.”

“Stop,” Miguel snapped at you, the sharp edge of his canines gleaming under the kitchen lights. “We had a good day. Why are you trying to ruin it by bringing this up?”

“Ruin it?” You placed a hand over your heart, a faux gasp of disbelief leaving your lips. “I’m ruining your day?”

“You’re not, I just…” Miguel slinked back from you. “I think we’d better off talking about this later.”

“But when is later good for you, Miguel? When I asked you about her universe, you always said you’d tell me later. When you would leave to go see her, not returning for hours or even days, my questions about where you were or how long you would be there were met with an “I’ll tell you later.” When Gabriella died, I asked you how you said ‘later.’ When our counselor asked how you were feeling, and what you were doing to cope, you said that you needed time to grieve now and let me in later. Later has been months, Miguel,” You exhaled shakily, wiping your rebel tears away with the back of your hand.

You looked up to Miguel, your heart aching at the sight of his frown. “I can’t wait any later, Miguel, I can’t. I’ve been trying to wait on you, I’ve given you space, I’ve given you time to grieve, I’ve given you everything that I have and try to be. Except for one thing. A baby. If giving you a baby will make you love me again, so be it. Let’s not wait for later. Let’s do it right now. Let’s have a baby.”

Miguel hesitated to answer, unsure how to proceed through such murky waters.

“You almost left me for Gabriella because I wouldn’t give you a child. You almost died when she died. And, I’ve stayed by your side through this entire time, supporting you, giving you space,” You reached out to grab at Miguel’s shirt, the fabric wrinkling by your grip. “The last thing I can offer you is to have a baby because I just want to make you happy again. I just want my husband back.”

Miguel’s arms wrapped around your body, holding you close with a tight embrace. You breathed in his scent, the familiar aromas of patchouli and cedar seeping into every fiber of your being, calming your mind and breaths. You relaxed into him; his arms had always been your sanctuary.

“I hate it when you cry, amorcito,” Miguel pressed his nose to the crown of your head, burying his face into your hair. He breathed in your scent, his muscles tensing all around you. It was as if he was scared you were going to disappear from his arms.

“I’m so sorry,” His voice wavered. “I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. I never meant to do this to you— I just didn’t know what to do, what to feel.”

“Miguel,” His name left your lips like a whispered prayer. You craned your neck back to peer up at him, his glossy ruby eyes meeting you.

“Let me speak, mi alma, it’s my turn.” The walls around Miguel’s heart and mind came crashing down, his face contorting into an expression of pain and sorrow. You reached up to cradle the underside of his ear, your thumb passing gently over his jawline in long, soothing strokes.

“I owe you so many apologies. I’ve been such a terrible husband, such a terrible person. Instead of pushing you away, I should have held you closer;” Miguel announced. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin. “I never meant to make you feel unwanted or unloved. I love you so much, amorcito. Más que nada en el universo.”

“I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to give up any aspect of your life for me. I know having kids isn’t something you want, and I’m so sorry I made you feel that the only way I’d stay with you is by having a baby,” Miguel continued. “ I became so obsessed with the feeling of being unconditionally loved, unconditionally wanted, that I forgot that I already had someone in my life who already did so. You’re the only important thing in my life. You’re the only one I love and care for. And I promise to never take you for granted, I promise to do better for you.”

Miguel’s promise was spoken through a few whimpers, his eyes brimming with tears. You continued to stroke Miguel’s cheek, reaching up to him by the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Miguel chased after the loving sensation, dipping his head to capture your lips in a passionate kiss.

He whimpered against your lips, the kiss salty and sloppy from your tears mixing. The pain in your heart slowly seeped away, being replaced by the intense rush of love you still held for him.

“Miguel,” The sound of his name elicited another tremble from him, his tears slowing. You kissed his cheeks, kissing away his tears and grief. “Te quiero también.”

Miguel clung to you harder, your head returning to its restful spot on his chest. You two stood there for a lifetime, holding onto the torn fabrics of your marriage.

There was still so much for you two to discuss, so many thoughts and emotions to reveal. Yet, at least, you were able to acknowledge the mistakes in your relationship and take the first leap to rebuilding your marriage. And, this time, you’d be able to do it together.

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mischievous-piltovan · 6 months

Text

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2

Part 2: Overthinking and Overflowing

Pairing: MiguelO'Hara x afab!Reader

Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn.

Word Count: 9.4k words

Synopsis: Reader wakes up at the Spider HQ Med Bay and needs further care. Miguel spends his day watching the recording of their last mission. None of them are ready to face each other. But circumstances and a perky AI assistant say otherwise.

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), hand job, oral sex (female and male receiving), very soft femdom.

A/N: sorry for the wait. Life happened but I managed to push this one out! I'm thinking of doing a third part to really solidify the ending of this things. Comments and rebblogs keep me motivated! Have a nice read :)

The very first thing that hit you when you next opened your eyes was a feeling of unfamiliarity. The white ceiling lights buzzed overhead, overwhelming your sight; the mattress and pillow you laid on felt harder than you were used to, there was a distinct antiseptic smell in the air and somewhere in the vicinity a machine beeped. You tried getting up, but your muscles failed you, bringing you right back down. The little ruckus you caused made someone gasp nearby.

"Careful now," a masked nurse hastily came over your bed "We can't have you accidentally unhooking yourself from the IV-drip."

In your daze, it took a few seconds to register that the nurse was a Spider-Woman, a few more seconds to realize it meant you were at HQ's Med Bay and even more for it to click that that's NOT where you were supposed to be. You sat upright suddenly as dread coursed through your body, successfully yanking the needle out of your arm "The Goblin! I gotta- "

With a sigh, the nurse gently pushed you back into the bed with a hush. "It's all right, dear. It's been dealt with," she proceeded to reset the IV needle in your arm "Boss brought both you and the Anomaly back to HQ. Your Universe is safe, you need to rest now."

"Miguel… ?" You croaked, the memories of the missions slowly coming back to you "Is he ok?"

"Yes, he was dismissed not too long ago," she reassured you "He wasn't injected with as much venom as you did, and he's also much bigger than you - it almost didn't affect him."

"Venom…?"

"Oh, right. You wouldn't know," she chirped "The projectile you took was venomous, it did a number to your body and halted your healing. But don't worry, we're working to fix that.You should be right as rain in a day or two!"

"Right…"

"Well, I need to attend to other matters now," she said in a gentle tone "There's a little button on the wall over there, press it if you need anything and I'll come running, ok? Now, get some rest."

You watched the nurse hop out of your room before sinking into the pillow with a heavy exhale. You didn't finish the mission; you couldn't carry your own weight to catch an Anomaly in your own dimension. Miguel had to do it. He caught the Anomaly by himself and had to carry your unconscious body back to HQ. Your only contribution was being dead weight.

To make matters worse, according to the nurse, you'd be stuck in the Med Bay for at least another day. This meant that all the unfinished work you left at your workstation would inevitably get delayed. Consequently, all the new tasks that you'd surely be assigned to will stack up and, thereafter, also get delayed. You shielded your eyes with your forearm as you groaned, the amount of extra hours you'd have to put in to compensate already sent a shiver down your spine; an all-nighter was definitely due. You just hoped no unforeseen crisis strike in the meantime - adding Miguel juggling a million tasks at once to quench a metaphorical fire by himself to the fiasco that your mission with him was just added more weight to your already heavy consciousness (and another jab to your very much hurt pride). You also didn't want to have him going through stress by himself when you could very well be there to share the load - that's precisely what you've been trying to accomplish all this time after all. As capable as he was, he was still just one person - he needed you.

Wait…

He needed you.

"Because I need you."

He… He said that, didn't he? You were not entirely sure, you were in a rather delirious state right before passing out. It could have very well been a fabrication of a blood-deprived (and poisoned, as you just learned) mind that has been yearning for him for far too long. But somehow, it felt real… You've dreamed about Miguel before and it didn't matter which scenario your subconscious made up, waking up always left you with a bittersweet feeling afterwards, like you've been yanked away from your own Garden of Eden. But this particular memory had an intensity behind it, an unrelenting force. Like that first sip of cold water on a very hot summer day.

You swatted that notion away before escalating your swooning any further over a single crumb of hope. 'Because I need you' could mean anything, it didn’t necessarily have to do with romance or lust. If you recalled correctly, you were in the middle of quitting your job, he could very well have meant he needed you working in the lab with him. As in 'You became a valuable asset to the Society, replacing you would be too troublesome. I need you'.

Heh… Despite not being ideally what you wanted it to mean, the thought still amused you. Miguel finally admitted he saw worth in your contributions to the Society, after all these months of getting nothing but criticism and scoldings. And you could hear in his voice how he struggled to let the words out, how strained and a bit desperate he sounded. Like he was running out of choices and just had to use the truth for once.

It really was amusing how much leverage he gave you over him.

Miguel didn't want you to know he needed you and you couldn't wait to rub it in his face.

—--

Miguel didn't want you to know he needed you and he dreaded to see your reaction now that you did.

It had been a full day since he was dismissed from the Med Bay and he couldn't concentrate on anything. And it's not like he wasn't trying; he kept forcing himself to focus - compartmentalizing tasks in more palatable chunks, timing his strides and peppering them with short breaks, and even going as far as vocalizing out loud what he was trying to accomplish step by step - but no matter what he did, his thoughts kept circling back to you and everything that went down in your dimension.

After the ninth time failing to keep a steady flow of work going, Miguel finally gave-up. Among the catalog of yesterday's missions log files, he put up the VOD of the mission at your dimension and silently watched it. He paused the moment before you were hit with the Goblin's javelin and felt his stomach churn; he watched himself curled up on screen, trying to fix his suit, pathetically oblivious to the impending attack coming from behind him. The next second you were lunging at him, getting the Goblin's attention and successfully protecting him at the cost of your wound.

How… Pathetic.

His intention to accompany you on your next few missions was to protect you - he knew you bore a grave injury from a past job, he wanted to aid you until you were fully healed. To watch him be a hindrance that caused you further harm made him feel disgusting; and knowing it was because he didn't have Spider-Sense the same way most (bright and cheerful) Spider-People had just added more insult to the injury.

But the fight with the Goblin wasn't the reason he wanted to watch the Video Log in the first place. He kept watching it until he got to the part he wished to revisit - the moment the argument broke out. Unsurprisingly, he was the one who triggered the conflict.

"Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

Miguel groaned at his tone. He didn't have to be an asshole when all he wanted was for you to be more careful with your well-being. But at this point, being a jerk towards you became second nature - a defense mechanism born from the need of keeping you at arm's length; treating you the complete opposite of how he felt about you to ensure you were kept safe from him. If you ended up hating him all the better. But actions have consequences, and tipping you off yet again was just that. He couldn't blame you for snapping, he had been pushing you for a while now - the band was bound to break.

What he didn't foresee was that said reaction encapsulated your sudden decision to quit Spider Society altogether AND your stubborn persistence in flinging yourself back into the mission while gravely injured. His mind went into overdrive trying to salvage the situation while keeping the professional facade. He watched the moment he grabbed your wrist, the same desperation he felt then creeping up all over again. The havoc inside him caused the beast to get set loose and he recalled almost doing something stupid as he gazed into your eyes, like kissing you. It was said thought that jolted him out of his stupor, forcefully yanking the beast's leash back and making him utter the most ridiculous statement in a desperate attempt to bring the conversation back to a professional ground (it didn't).

"You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

He had to pause the video to take a breath, the surge of shame too much to bear. There were a million other ways to address your relentlessness that would both convey the message and still sound professional, but his thick skull decided to go with the ballistic option. But then again, it was the easier route, par for the course; being as mean as possible to make sure his true intentions and feelings were kept secret. He unpaused the video, and your next words were his undoing.

"I'm DONE being your silly little plaything."

What the shock could you possibly have meant with that? Yes, he had been an asshole to you for the last few months (even if not intentional), but he wasn't toying with you. To make someone a plaything means bestowing them a lesser status; is to perceive them as a mere toy, an unfeeling object undeserving of respect. And that was the last thing Miguel connected you with; to him you were a goddess, worthy of worship and absolutely unattainable. You were his muse and his tormentor, his salvation and his undoing. Far too important to him even consider playing with. The revelation that this is how you felt broke him; destroyed him to the point that made him falter and his next words practically spilled from him.

"Because I need you."

There they were. The words that escaped his lips and which possible repercussions he dreaded. The little confession that's been keeping him from concentrating in anything else. In his desperation to remedy the notion you held, he waned and the beast broke free; it spoke in his stead and revealed more than Miguel was ready to admit. In a (terrible) way, he was lucky you passed out soon after; who knows what else would come into the light had the conversation gone any further.

Yet, even though the words he uttered didn't actually convey much, the implications behind them had the potential to roar. It shouldn't take a genius to logic their way to the truth and you were highly intelligent. And he dreaded how you'd react to it, how disgusted you'd feel upon realizing the beast fell for you. Only he was no prince under a spell, he was just that - a monster.

"Miguel? Heeey, Miguel! Are you listening?"

It took Lyla to pop up in front of his eyes, completely blocking the screen he was looking at, for Miguel to finally notice her. From her frantic gesturing alone, he could tell she had been trying to get his attention for a while.

"Ah, perdón, Lyla. I am now."

"Good grief, Miguel. You are uncharacteristically slow today," she quipped, feigning annoyance. "Did the venom from that Goblin affect your cognition?"

"I–What? No," it took a minute for Miguel to understand Lyla had insulted him "Callaté."

The AI ignored Miguel, opting to scan whatever he was working on. She assumed she'd have more luck understanding her master's plight through any other way than getting him to talk. Upon realizing the video file he was watching, she paused with an oh.

"I'm gonna throw some statements at you, and you're gonna tell me if they are true or not," she said more calmly. Before he could muster anything, she continued "You are worried about what you said during yesterday's mission.'

Miguel took a moment before responding "True."

"You don't want her to know about your feelings."

"...true."

She paused, mulling over her next statement before continuing "You think you're not reciprocated."

Miguel frowned "Fal– No, that's not even– She couldn't possibly–"

The mere thought of you reciprocating his feelings was ludicrous. Of all people, why would you fall for him - a barely human, brutish, hard-headed monstrosity. In the Society alone he could think of a good number of Spiders that you were more likely to fall for; the cheerful, laid-back types who could touch you without fear of accidentally sinking their talons into you. Lyla was delusional to even suggest that.

"Drop it, Lyla."

The AI took a minute to study Miguel, her expression unreadable. The next second, her eyes shifted, unfocused, and a glimpse of a mischievous grin spread across her face before turning to her master again.

"Aye aye, captain, consider it dropped," she said cheerfully. "On other news, you have that immersion treatment scheduled now. You better head to the Med Bay."

"Cancel it," he dismissed, the last thing he needed was to waste more time. But Lyla was having none of it.

"Not happening," she snapped her fingers and suddenly all screens from Miguel's workstation blinked off.

"Que carajo," Miguel spat, frantically trying to undo his assistant's input "Lyla! Restore the power this instant!"

"No can do, Miguel," she said, floating with her legs crossed in the air, while pretending to file her nails. "Even if it was just a little, you still got poisoned with that Goblin's venom. Doctor's orders."

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, as he groaned. Finally, he dropped his shoulders with a huge exhale as he yielded "Fine…"

"Oh, and do me a favor while you're there, will you?" She added "I've found a strange entry in my command inputs, could you take a look at it?"

—

Miguel spent the whole walk to the Med Bay wondering how his life got to the point his AI assistant had more power over his life decisions than he did.

Once arriving, he was led to a private locker room and instructed to fully strip and enter the immersion pool area through the door on the other side of the room.

"The session should take an hour, give or take," the nurse informed him, "There's a clock in there, so don't worry about bringing any devices with you."

Once the nurse left him, he fully deactivated his suit, the digital material retracting from his head down, and wrapped a towel around his hips. Even if he was supposed to be by himself through the whole process - thus dispensing the need to protect his modesty -, it would be unlike him to not take precaution.

The very first thing that hit him when he opened the door to the pool area was the intense herbal smell that assaulted his sensitive nose. The second thing was how foggy the place was, provided by the temperature of the water. The third thing was a yelp.

"AH! What the– Wait… Miguel?"

You stood immersed in the water, at the far end of the pool. Miguel was stunned, trying to process the situation he walked into, his head working in overdrive: Why were you here? Did he go through the wrong door? No, there was only one door. How did he miss your scent? Oh, the fumes from the concoction must have overpowered it. Should you be here? Should he be here? Once his eyes fell to how your arms hugged your chest in an attempt to maintain some sort of propriety, he promptly turned on his heels as an intense heat flared up on his face.

"Shit! I'm sorry!" He spat. "I don't know what– I should– I'm gonna go."

He frantically tried opening the door back to the locker room, pressing the buttons on the door pad with more force than he should, but it was futile. As he punched the pad in frustration, Lyla popped up beside him.

"You're not leaving until you finish your treatment session," she sang.

"Lyla! Open this door this instant!" Miguel barked. Lyla just clicked her tongue.

"Just get in the water, the pool is big enough for the both of you," she replied "Besides, the mixture of medicines in the water make it very murky, you can barely make out what's under it."

"LYLA! NOW!"

"It's OK, Miguel," you said, your voice instantly starting to subdued Miguel's anger "You need this treatment too, you should get in."

Miguel brushed his hair back with his hand, his fingers running through his thick locks as he tried calming down to assess his situation. You were behind him completely vulnerable in an extreme state of undress, protected only by a thin veil of water. He shuddered at the thought, the image in his head alone sending all the blood in his body directly south. The beast inside of him wanted nothing more than to seize the opportunity to claim you here, shrouded by the vapors and the thick herbal smell. Getting in that water was risky, it would take a lot of him to keep control.

But what other option did he have? Lyla was adamant in making him go through the treatment, blocking the door control altogether. He had the power to just force his way out, tearing a hole in the metal with his talons, but he'd end up not only ruining your session but also exposing you (and the protectiveness in him was vehemently against it). He just had to endure it.

"Fine," he breathed out in defeat. He turned around, eyes down to avoid looking at you. He approached the pool's edge as he tugged on the towel around his hips "I'm gonna lose the towel, you… might want to look away."

You did not want to look away in the slightest, but you closed your eyes nonetheless out of respect. Once you heard the tell-tale splash followed by the ripples of water hitting you, you opened them again.

Neither you or Miguel spoke, the silence being broken only by the gentle humming of the water heater. The tension in the air was almost as palpable as the herbal steam flooding the room. Miguel kept himself on the opposite corner of the pool, as far from you as possible. He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and sank as far as he could while resting the back of his head on the edge. His heart was racing, a mixture of arousal and embarrassment overwhelming his senses. He was fighting hard to relax, to be present in the moment and enjoy the break from the ever-present onslaught of responsibilities his life bestowed upon him, but your presence was proving too strong.

The beast inside of him stirred, flooding his mind with obscenities; you bent over at your hip on your belly at the edge of the pool, your ass on full display for him as he plunged his cock between your glistening folds; you sat at the edge with your feet in the water as he savored your nectar with his head between your thighs; him sitting on the shallow part of the pool with you on top of him, bouncing on his cock as he gripped your ass, watching your tits gorgeously jump from the movement. Miguel groaned, fighting to keep the beast on a tight leash as he tried to push the vulgarities away; fuck fuck fuck… What wouldn't he give for a chance to jerk these thoughts out of him, to release the tension just a bit to make this ordeal a bit more bearable. The occasional sigh and shudder you'd let out from the other side of the pool just added to his fantasies, making the effort of keeping his very much hardening cock down that much vexing. At least Lyla was right about the murkiness of the water - the pearlescent shade whatever chemicals granted the liquid made it impossible to distinguish anything immersed in it.

Wait, that's right - Lyla! She did ask him to take a look at a weird entry on her command input history, didn't she. This was perfect, some busy work should keep his mind occupied, if he was lucky it would take the whole treatment session to finish dealing with it. He promptly called Lyla and before long, he was scrolling through her command input history.

To say you were faring any better at the other side of the pool would be a lie. Ever since Miguel walked through that door you became acutely aware of how bare you were - your skin prickled as if more sensitive than before. On top of that, you were fighting for your life not to ogle at the man - the dampness of the ambient clung to him making his bronze skin glisten and tousled his hair, causing some thick locks to fall on his face. You started to question your decision to offer him to partake in the session with you the moment the words left your mouth; you supposed it derived from both the guilt you felt from him getting wounded during the mission and the opportunity your lizard brain saw of being close to a very naked Miguel. Nevertheless, the result was an awkward situation filled to the brim with tension.

Suddenly, you sensed Miguel tense up for a second, meeting his eyes the moment you looked over to see what had spooked him. The workaholic that he was, he had a screen open in front of him and seemed to have seen something that surprised him. You lifted a questioning eyebrow at him, but he didn't respond; instead he returned to the document he had opened as if double-checking something before turning the screen off. He then set his eyes to the water in front of him, but his mind was distant - you could almost hear the gears turning in his head.

The silence stretched on and minutes started feeling like hours. You racked your brain trying to find a topic of discussion, something to fill the silence and loosen the tension if only for a bit. Maybe even something silly, just to share a little amicable laugh, or some kind of teasing, to partake in a familiar friendly jabbing session. And then it hit you, the one thing you were dying to bring up to him - the little confession he let out during the mission. His (work) need of you (in the Spider Society).

"Soooo," you broke the silence in a sing-song voice "Miguel O'Hara finally caved in, huh."

Miguel snapped out of whatever was consuming his mind, clearly taken aback by the tone of your voice "¿Q- que?"

"Because I need you," you mimicked, doing a very bad impression of his voice "Took you long enough to admit it."

Miguel didn't respond right away. You watched him stir, visibly distraught, as he searched your face for something. "... you knew?"

There was a tinge of melancholy behind his question, something even vulnerable. But you kept your smirk, backing down now would just compromise your attempt at alleviating the tension. "I mean, I had a feeling."

Miguel dropped his shoulders in a strong exhale as he scrunched his eyes shut. When he opened them again, his eyebrows furrowed up slightly as he looked at you in desolation "I'm sorry."

Of all things to hear back from him, an apology was not on the list. Something was starting to feel off, but you decided to push it a little more "You should be, it was high time you recognized the work I put in here."

It was Miguel's turn to look confused "... the work?"

"Oh, don't act dumb, O'Hara," you retorted, slightly annoyed. He was not gonna dissuade you from finally getting the praise you rightfully deserved from him. "You couldn't let me quit the Society, you literally said you needed me here. I might have passed out soon after, but I did hear those words coming out of you."

"But that wasn't–," Miguel started frantically, but halted abruptly, seemingly collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to calm his nerves before continuing. "You are an exceptional member of the Society. Your work at the lab and in the field are crucial and I can admit without problem that I need you at the Society. We all do."

He paused again, contemplating his next words. After a brief second, he resumed his speech. "What I said back then had nothing to do with work."

You frowned in confusion for a moment, but then the other meaning to those words you had first imagined crept up in the forefront of your mind. He couldn't be talking about affection, could he? A yearning for you that matched yours for him? Your chest fluttered in an erratic cadence, but you promptly stomped the elation down. You had to make sure - to hear him say it - before allowing yourself the bliss.

"What did you mean then?" You spoke softly, carefully. Like your tone alone could corner Miguel and cause him to withdraw, putting his walls back up and leaving you with half truths and lies.

But he didn't give you the clarification you desperately craved right away. Instead he shifted, standing a bit taller while still leaning with his back to the pool's edge, arms crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face.

"I'll let you know," he spoke, fiercely gazing into your eyes from under his brow; his voice husky and stern. "But first I need you to explain why you asked Lyla to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in your dimension."

Your heart sank as dread rapidly coursed through your veins. You desperately tried to find a suitable answer, one that could give him a good explanation while omitting the truth from him. But the harder you racked your brain, the clearer it became that there was no way out from the corner Miguel drove you into.

Dread started giving away to anger. How dare he tries to dodge your question by conditioning its answer to an answer from you, one that puts you on the spot. Leave it to control-freak Miguel O'Hara to use sleazy methods to keep himself on top.

"That doesn't concern you," you said between greeted teeth. "Now, answer my question."

Miguel was unphased. "Oh, you think someone looking for a variant of myself using my tech doesn't concern me?"

"It doesn't, that was a matter between me and Lyla about a potential third person," you spat, voice rising a bit. "My question is about clarification on a conversation WE shared. THAT concerns you."

"You can't possibly-"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, O'HARA," you snapped, standing up abruptly, splashing water all around you "STOP DEFLECTING MY QUESTION AND JUST ANSWE-"

You stopped upon noticing the look on Miguel's face. He seemed shocked, eyes wide open, eyebrows knitted together and mouth agape. Then you noticed a tinge of red make an appearance underneath the bronze color of his cheeks. Finally, you watched as he rapidly looked away from you, dramatically turning his head to the side. "SHOCK! ¿PENDEJA, ESTÁS LOCA?!"

Adrenaline ebbed from your body giving room for your other senses to kick in. You shivered from the lack of heat and soon realized your rage had eclipsed you to the fact you were still very much naked and now with your torso (and tits) completely exposed above the water from your outburst. Heat quickly flooded your face as you plunged back into the water, mortified and vulnerable.

Another thick stretch of silence fell between the two of you. You hugged yourself tightly over your breasts under the water as if it somehow could alleviate the intense shame coursing through your body. Miguel tried to compose himself, the image of your tits hanging down your torso as water dripped down in rivulets over your skin carouselled in his mind on loop.

You huffed. Was trying to keep your feelings for him a secret worth it at this point? After sharing a bath with and subsequently flashing your boss, a love confession felt harmless. Might as well rip out that band-aid and live with the consequences of this bundle of awkwardness. You took a deep breath and…

"I asked Lyla to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension because I wanted to find a version of you with whom I could take out all my pent-up frustrations about you on," you spoke in almost a whisper, eyes away from Miguel. "Because I'm in love with you."

Miguel's eyes widened. He turned to you looking for any sign of mischief - a smirk, a held laugh, a smug stance -, but he found none. You kept your gaze downwards, your arms around you as you tried to withdraw within yourself.

"And… I've been for the longest time, too," you continued, still avoiding his gaze. "And I would be very grateful if we pretended this confession never happened."

"What…?" Miguel croaked, still processing your words.

"Yeah, kinda pathetic, isn't it?" You scoffed, a defeated smile adorning your face. "It was obvious this would go unrequited the moment it started blooming, but I couldn't help it."

As soon as those last words left your mouth, you felt a surge of shame rising up from your very core, begging you to stop talking. But you pushed it down, the cat was already out of the bag and there was no undoing it. Alas, it was better to exhaust everything regarding this topic now than to regret leaving things unsaid later.

"And you know what the worst part is? I've been trying to compensate for my feelings by assisting you the best I can to help lighten your load," you started talking more emphatically, adding speed and volume to your speech in order to drown out the shame. "You're carrying so much responsibility all by yourself, I wanted to make your life easier if only for a fraction."

"Wait, it… its not-" Miguel was having a hard time keeping up with the onslaught you poured on him. There were a lot of conflicting emotions clashing inside him, his mouth couldn't put into words what he was trying to convey. The sudden surge of speed in your speech was not helping him in the slightest.

"Yeah, I know. It's not working, isn't it? I figured as such, you've been really uptight about my performance lately," You spat back, not giving him a chance to talk. You were worried that you'd lose your momentum and never be able to gather it back. You needed to get everything out. "But I'll work harder! Just… Maybe it's best if I quit the Lab Assistant job, I don't want to make you uncomfortable at your own workplace and-"

"¡Por favor, deja de hablar!" Miguel's voice echoed through the chamber, halting your verbosity. "It's not unrequited…" He spoke more quietly, a gentleness in his tone. "Your feelings, that is."

Another stretch of silence took place between you. You slowly uncurled yourself, straightening up your back as you finally looked at Miguel. His stance defied the words he just uttered to the point you wondered if you might have misheard them - he was tense, shoulders slightly up with his hands at his sides in tight fists; he looked down, avoiding your face.

"Wait, you-," your voice failed you. You quickly cleared your throat before resuming. "You feel the same…?"

Miguel relaxed his shoulders a bit as he exhaled, running a hand through his damp hair. He then proceeded to meet your gaze as he rested his hands over his hips. "Yeah…"

"Oh. I… That's perfect! Miguel, I-"

"No, wait," he cut you off. "I owe you an apology and an explanation - yes, I… I realize I have been an asshole to you lately. I'm sorry about that, it's just-," Miguel paused again, collecting his thoughts. He closed his eyes for a second and, when he opened them again, there was nothing but hurt behind them. "I've been trying to distance myself from you, and I know that that's not an excuse to lash out on you, but being near you made that task so much more vexing…"

"... why would you want to distance yourself from me?"

"To protect you." He responded matter-of-factly.

You frowned slightly. "From what??"

"From me." Miguel said, emphatically pointing a finger at his own face.

"Why would I need protection from you??" You asked, lifting an eyebrow at him. "Miguel, don't get me wrong - you are very strong. But not strong enough to be a threat to me."

"I cannot allow myself to partake on more… intimate activities with you," he spat, avoiding your gaze again. "I would ruin you."

"And what if I want to be ruined?" You asked, taking a few careful steps towards him. Miguel swallowed nervously as he felt your words go straight south. He tried to compose himself before responding.

"You don't know what you're talking about," he muttered. "I am a monster and you know that. There ought to be a better suitor for you."

You took another couple of tentative steps towards him. "I decide what's best for me."

"No, you don't understand," he spat, his gaze towards the water. "You are amazing. You are.. strong, smart, have an intellect to die for and so, so kind. While I have to live in isolation, in a dim-lit Lab, taking shots to keep a semblance of humanity because my powers make me a monster and you don't deserve tha-"

He stopped upon feeling your hand reaching for his. He was so lost in his rant that he failed to notice your approach. He flinched at your proximity but didn't pull away from your touch.

You took his hand in both of yours, slowly kneading his palm with your thumbs. "Do you trust me?"

"...What do you mean?" Miguel answered, watching your hands work his. At this distance he could finally feel your scent alongside the concoction herb-y smell.

"Just in general."

"Of course I do," he responded softly. "I trust you with my life."

"Then trust me when I say I want to be with you," You said, bringing his hand over your chest, right above your heart. He inhaled sharply at the contact, realizing the softness of the tissue below was the top portion of your breast. He finally met your eyes to prevent him from dwelling on the thought. "Trust me that I will tell you if, like you fear, it becomes too much for me."

"I… " He let your words sink in. He really was deciding he was no good for you, robbing you of your own agency on the matter, wasn't he? But something tugged at him in the back of his mind, something that wasn't adding up - a fear that prevented him from just letting go.

Then it clicked.

He set the hand you held free, cupping your jaw with it. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Miguel's heart fluttered at the sight, but he quickly composed himself - he had a point to make.

"You have to promise me you will actually tell me if something becomes too much for you. That you won't push yourself past your limit for my sake," he started, capturing your attention again. "I watched the video of our last mission and you put yourself in harm's way to protect me and you almost died. Add that to what you just told me about putting a lot of effort in the Society for my sake, it worries me you'd favor me in detriment of your own well-being."

"I…," you started.

"That first injury you sustained, it was also a ramification of that dynamic, wasn't it?"

There was no way around that, you figured. Closing your eyes, you rested your own hand atop Miguel's hand on your face. "Yeah… "

With a resolute exhale, you locked eyes with Miguel once more. "I guess we both have things to work on."

A hint of a smile tugged at the corner of Miguel's mouth. "Yeah…"

"So…," you said after a pause. "Can we kiss?"

Miguel chuckled. "There's nothing I'd like more, hermosa."

He cupped your face with both hands, craning down to face you. He opened his mouth slightly, ghosting your lips for a moment as he took in your scent before colliding into your mouth. The kiss was gentle at first, chaste even; as if Miguel was still not entirely sure it was happening and he was under some hallucinogenic side-effect from the fumes of the concoction. But then he heard you whimper into his mouth - it was a silent thing, almost a whisper -, but it was enough for his heightened hearing to pick-up.

And then somewhere inside Miguel a switch flipped.

His tongue breached your lips, hungrily tracing the inside of your mouth. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, giving Miguel the leverage he needed to slide his hands down your sides, gripping your hips and bringing your body flushed to his. Like everything in his life, Miguel needed to take control and… it didn't feel unwelcome this time. In fact, the heat emanating from his body against yours paired with the oily dampness the concoction provided and his ministrations in your mouth was making you dizzy - your heart drummed in your ears and you could feel arousal starting to build up in your core.

You instinctively brought your hands to his hair, raking your nails through his scalp. He grunted in response, the sound going straight to your clit. You instantly got addicted, suddenly you needed to hear more; to learn all the pretty sounds Miguel could make. So in between kisses you sank your teeth into his lower lip, earning the groffiest moan you ever heard. Spurred further, Miguel descended to your jaw, nibbling his way to your neck. He nuzzled into the crook of it, inhaling hard to bask in your intoxicating scent, before sinking his teeth into your pulse point.

You moaned shamelessly, the mixture of pain and pleasure only adding to the pressure in your core. His erection pressed against you, twitching at every sound that escaped your lips. Your head spinned as if you were drunk, any reservation you formerly had dissolved.

"Fuck, Miguel," you mewled near his ear and you could sense him tensing up in response; he hardened his grip on your hips and you could feel his talons starting to pierce your skin. A gasp of primal ecstasy from deep within you escaped your lips as his talons extended, sinking further into your flesh. Miguel flooded all your senses, yet you yearned for more.

But suddenly he stopped.

He grabbed your shoulders, pushing your body back and away from him. His head hung between his shoulders as he fought to catch his breath, keeping his arms extended to maintain the distance between you.

"Miguel, is everything okay?" You asked, worry lacing your words.

After a moment, he took a deep breath and turned his head up to face you. His skin still flustered from the kiss. "I'm so sorry…"

You frowned slightly. "What for?"

"I lost control, I-," he stuttered anxiously. "I hurt you. I could smell your blood."

"But-," you tried speaking, but Miguel continued.

"Shit, you aren't even fully healed yet," he scrunched up his face, spiraling on. "Fuck, this is a treatment. We're in the middle of your treatment, I-. I'm an idiot."

"Shut-up, O'Hara," you spat, trying to break him from the guilt pit he started sinking in. "I'm practically 100% already from that injury and…"

Your pause brought his attention back to you. You gathered courage to continue.

"...and I rather enjoyed getting rougher a second ago." You finished, avoiding his gaze.

Miguel relaxed a bit, enthralled by your bashful display. "But still I… I'd prefer if we didn't do anything too rough today."

"Oh c'mon, man," you scoffed, very much annoyed. "Don't treat me as an invalid."

"I'm not," he responded. "I'm just not comfortable escalating this when you still have some healing to do."

"But-,"

"Please," Miguel pleaded. The raw vulnerability behind it spoke of the guilt he still felt for your injury. It faltered your resolve.

"Alright…," you pouted. "Not easy after all that, but fine."

"Don't even get me started, hermosa," Miguel responded, letting go of your shoulders. "Although…," he said, scanning the area around the pool. "I think there's something we could do."

"Hm?"

"Sit on the edge of the pool," Miguel said curtly, the change of tone catching you off-guard.

"What?"

"You heard me, princesa," he spoke again in a more sultry voice, half-lidded scarlet eyes meeting yours. "Let me see you."

"I-," you suddenly felt very shy at his request, the small break from the heated kiss you two shared seemed to have cooled you down enough to bring back your self-awareness. Sitting on the edge of the pool meant being on full-display for Miguel, way more exposed than the seconds of accidentally flashing him from before.

Your eyes shifted back and forth from the edge to Miguel, unsure of what to do. But he was having none of it; he cupped your jaw again, his touch enough to ground you a bit, bringing your attention back to him. "I need to see you, chiquita. All of you."

"Okay," you blurted out in a resolute exhale. You turned towards the edge and paused before moving forward. "Prepare to be disappointed."

"I could never."

Miguel watched you with bated breath as you hoisted your body up the edge of the pool with your arms. Your plump ass emerged next, droplets of water running down its surface as you finally brought your legs up and onto the hard floor. If he died now, he would have died happy. You sat with your back turned to him and your legs to the side, as you held your torso up with your arms. That scene, paired with the rivulets of pearlescent water running down your body and the vapors from the pool painted an image Miguel could only describe as divine. You were his goddess and he wished for nothing more than to be your most adulant devotee.

Finally, you slowly turned around, bringing your legs back in the water as you scooted your hips to the edge of the pool. You kept your hands on your lap and your legs pressed together; subconsciously trying to hide yourself from Miguel's gaze.

But Miguel was nothing but awestruck, trying to formulate a proper reaction. He moved towards you, placing a hand on each of your knees. "Not once in my wildest fantasies I could attain the perfection that is your body."

You inhaled sharply at his earnest words, heat blooming across your face. His hold on your knees sent shivers down your spine, beginning to fan your embers back to flames. His thumbs caressed the inner side of your knees, a silent plea to let him pry them apart. His crimson eyes devoured you wholly, his gaze searing your skin.

"Let me make you feel good, mi preciosa," Miguel husked, as his eyes met yours from under his brow. His hands guided your knees apart and you followed, exposing your innermost self to him. You watched his gaze falling to your cunt and his chest heaving in response. He proceeded to hover his mouth over your inner thigh - the contrast of his hot breath against your wet skin driving you insane -, before planting a kiss on the soft surface. He kept kissing you agonizingly slow, teasingly making his way to your center; each of his ministrations eliciting a gaspy moan from within you. Finally, he pressed a kiss directly on your engorged clit, keeping his lips on it in the longest iteration of a kiss you ever witnessed, drawing out his teasing for as long as possible.

"M-Miguel, for the love of-."

You never finished your sentence. He hooked his hands under your hips, tilting your pelvis up and licked a fat stripe with the flat of his tongue up your slit and you whimpered. With his grip on your hips giving him leverage, he began eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue on your clit, kneading your outer lips with the pad of his thumbs and lapping up your essence like he needed it to stay alive. You instinctively gripped his hair for purchase, his relentlessness robbing you of your breath.

"Don't hold back, hermosa," he said, coming up for air. " Show me all the pretty sounds you can make."

He let go of your hips with one of his hands before plunging a finger between your folds and into your velvety insides. You moaned at the intrusion as he deliciously rotated his finger, massaging your inner walls, before settling his pad on the sensitive spongy spot directly behind your clit. You buckled involuntarily into his mouth as he curled his fingers and he chuckled against your cunt, the vibration adding to the pressure building up in your core.

Miguel dove a second finger inside you and began pumping them in and out while rotating his wrist. A cry fell from your lips at the new pace, the obscene squelching sounds of your arousal permeating the air further compressing the coil inside you. A part of you didn't want to cum yet, didn't want your first orgasm with Miguel to be with his mouth when his cock was right there.

"M-Miguel, ple- ah! Please," you managed to blurt out. "I need you inside me."

Miguel planted a kiss on your cunt before responding. "I'll use my cock if you can refrain from cumming for the next… 5 minutes."

He resumed his assault right after with a renewed vigor and you mewled. There was no way you were gonna last five minutes.

To say Miguel was faring any better was a lie. Despite his facade, his whole body screamed for release. He had his lower half pressed to the wall of the pool, lightly humping into it to get some form of relief. It was taking all of his self control not to give into your plea and plow into you then and there, to feel your warm walls around his cock instead of the cold tiles of the pool.

But you were still hurt, your wound was still healing; he couldn't risk bringing more harm upon you.

With a final barrage to your hole and a long suck on your clit your band finally snapped. Your climax hit you like a supernova, white hot and powerful; you buckled into Miguel's face until it died down and he promptly provided the guidance you needed through it. When you finally came back from your high and managed to catch your breath, you turned to Miguel.

"You bastard." You spat feigning annoyance. He chuckled as he wiped your juices from his chin.

"Didn't see you complaining when you came." He teased, licking his fingers clean.

"You know what I meant," you retorted. "Miguel, please, just-... Just pound me. I need you to fill me up so fucking bad."

Miguel's cock twitched at your words, still painfully hard underneath the water. He was fighting hard to keep his head cool and not just give in, to throw caution to the wind and just slam into you like you wanted. To make matters worse, you never moved after you came, still in its afterglow, blissfully unaware you kept your lower-half very much on display to him - your glistening hole practically welcoming him. He forced himself to look away before his resolve faltered.

"Next time, Chiquita," he said softly. "I promise."

"What about you, though?" You asked, hoisting yourself up on your elbows.

"I can take care of myself later."

You groaned in response. You hated when Miguel got like that, so focused on an emotionally charged aspect he couldn't fathom considering other takes. There was no need to forgo all sexual activity if he was worried about your healing, especially after eating you out (so fucking well). With a huff, you got back in the water - if there was something you learned working in his Lab all this time is that Miguel needed help seeing other points of views sometimes.

You gently pressed your torso to Miguel's back, tenderly enveloping your arms around his middle in a hug. He flinched under your touch at first, but relaxed soon after. You proceeded to run your fingers on his abs, slowly massaging the taut muscle.

"I could take care of you, you know," you whispered.

Miguel felt his heart race at your words. He was already getting lost with the way your body pressed against his, the heat emanating from you paired with your scent causing him to walk the edge between lunacy and prudence. Looking down, he could see your delicate hands working his muscles - every little press of your fingers sent electric bolts downwards, where he yearned for your touch the most. Would it be so bad to indulge…?

"Y-your wound…"

"I'm sure using my hands wouldn't compromise my healing," you responded, trying to sound alluring. You tentatively slid your fingers down his lower belly, stopping just below his hips and Miguel hissed. You drew circles on the region slowly, feeling him shudder against you. "Let me make you feel good, Miggy."

"I-," Miguel tried speaking, but the little brain power he still had was having a hard time fighting against the sensation of your dainty fingers so close to his cock. The fact the whole massage was now happening hidden from his eyes under the water only made each touch feel searing hot.

He desperately needed release.

"... Yeah," he husked. "Just… don't overdo yourself."

You grinned behind him before finally sliding a hand to his cock, enveloping your fingers around his shaft. He hissed at the touch, getting so wound up had made him a lot more sensitive. You glided your hand along his cock, feeling his veins against the pads of your fingers before reaching his tip. You pulled back his hood, circling your thumb around the gland before gently rubbing the slit; Miguel hitched a breath.

"Does it feel good?" You asked, feigning innocence. Having control over him, knowing he could turn the tides easily if he so wished, felt oddly good.

"Y-yeah," he managed to huff out.

Pleased with his response, you started languidly pumping his cock and Miguel let out a strangled moan. You slid your body to his side to gain more range of motion while gently bringing your other hand to his ass.

The pace of your hand was slowly depleting Miguel of his remaining sanity. With his heightened sensitivity, the movement alone was both a lot and not enough. Your other hand kneaded his ass gently, occasionally prodding the rim of his hole, putting him in a position of vulnerability unfamiliar to him, yet not unwelcome. It felt good to relinquish control, especially with you at the helm.

But he needed more.

"Please…," he whispered. You lifted an eyebrow at his tone.

"Please what, handsome?" You teased.

"I… I need more."

"You need to speak more clearly, big guy."

"Mierda," he cussed. "I need you to stroke me faster."

"Atta, boy".

You increase your pace, gently rotating your wrist as you pumped him. Miguel groaned, throwing his head back. He instinctively brought an arm over your shoulders for purchase, holding you against his body. He could feel the pressure in his abdomen growing, his release getting dangerously close.

"Y-yo voy a, yo voy a…, (I-I'm gonna, I'm gonna…)" he groaned, his peak hastily approaching.

And then you stopped. And he hissed.

"N-no no no, please…," he cried out, desperately trying to rut in your hand. But it was no use.

You had the audacity to chuckle.

You cupped his jaw, bringing his attention down to you. You guided his head down, hungrily taking his lips with your own. He moaned in your mouth, frustration and arousal blending together, flooding all of his senses.

You both parted for air, a string of saliva connecting your lips to his. He looked at you with half-lidded drunken eyes, a gentle giant tamed by lust.

"C'mon, big guy. Let's get you sat at the edge," you whispered in his ear. "I want to taste you."

There wasn't a fiber in Miguel's body capable of denying you at this point.

With his back to the wall of the pool, Miguel hoisted his torso up by his arms, plopping himself down at pool's edge with his lower legs in the water. His heavy cock throbbed, thick and dark red, covered in droplets of a mixture of precum and the oily pearlescent concoction; a sight that had you salivating.

Miguel watched you approach him, slotting yourself between his thighs. You gently pulled his hood back, revealing the gland to the thick air of the chamber, before pressing your tongue flat to the underside of it and locking eyes with him.

"Fuck," was all he could muster. There was no way he would last much longer inside your warm mouth after getting edged. In fact, he was afraid a couple more kitten licks would be enough to finish him off. But he wanted to endure a little more, to enjoy you for as long as he could.

You rotated your tongue around his head a few times, catching as much precum as you could, before enveloping him with your mouth. Miguel hissed, instinctively bringing a hand to your hair for purchase. You bobbed your head slowly, swirling your tongue around his shaft in the process.

"Nena, I won't last," he warned you.

You hummed around his cock in response, bringing your hand up to him with your pointer finger pressed against your thumb, asking him for 'just a little longer'.

Miguel groaned. He would try. For you, he would try.

You started to slowly increase your pace, taking him deeper with each movement. Miguel could feel the pressure in his abdomen building up again faster. He tensed his muscles and gripped the edge of the pool with his other hand in an attempt to sooth it, to prolong the pleasure you provided for as long as possible.

But you weren't planning to play fair. You enveloped the remainder of his shaft you couldn't mouth with one hand, stroking him alongside the movement of your head, and used your other hand to reach his neglected balls, fondling them in tandem to your ministrations. It was all too much, Miguel threw his head back and could only tighten his hold on your hair in warning before spilling into your mouth hard, completely emptying his seed in you in a fervent release.

You soothed him through it, until his first wince of over-stimulation. You then gently pulled yourself back, letting go of his softening cock, before lifting your chin up to him and making a show of swallowing his spent and opening your mouth to present your clean tongue to him. Miguel shuddered.

"No me hagas esto," he said, still catching his breath. "You'll be the death of me."

"A good way to go, I hope?" You jested.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Miguel chuckled.

You two sat in comfortable silence, basking in the afterglow. You rested your head on his thigh, drawing lazy circles on his other's quads while Miguel gently rubbed your scalp, admiring the peace in your countenance.

"We should probably leave soon, I'm getting all pruny," you broke the silence.

"I do so love raisins," Miguel joked. You huffed in return.

"Shut-up, O'Hara," you spat back, feigning annoyance. You paused before continuing. "I'm gonna hold you accountable, you know."

"Hm?"

"To that promise," you clarified. "About pounding me next time."

Miguel chuckled before responding.

"It's a deal."

248 notes · View notes

last-herondale · 1 year

Text

Always In Front of Me

Jacob Black x FemReader

T/w: Mentions of blood, violence, death

Hurt/comfort, fated lovers

A/N: heyo! A few people have asked for a perspective from Jacob’s point of view from my wintered series! This is after Honesty and before Wintered!

Expect at least 2 more fics for this series in the future 💙

I’ll link the master list here!

Enjoy 🤘🏼

Jacob sat at your beside, watching the even motion of your chest rising and falling. The two of you were in one of the Cullen’s rooms. Jacob wasn’t sure whose, maybe Alice, maybe Jasper? No definitely Alice. She had insisted after… Jacob shook his head at the memory. He looked over you, making sure you were alright, to see if there was anything he could possibly do. He had been there for days on end, refusing to leave your side as you recovered.

Months earlier you had done the same for him after the battle with Victoria’s newborn army. Jacob remembered how you accepted the role as his gentle nurse, aiding him as he healed from his wounds. How minor his injuries seemed now. He winced as he looked at your neck brace— the bluish bruises under your eyes. The sight of you made his stomach churn. How could he have been so blind? How could he have not known until that night?

The world seemed to be moving in slow motion. So much chaos had ensued in such a short amount of time that Jacob wasn’t entirely sure what was real anymore.

Bella had gone into labor. He witnessed her body jerk and contort, breaking and snapping with haunting echos as the creature inside her yearned to be free. The Cullens had sprung to action, or at least those that had remained. A plan had been devised to allow some of the Cullens to break through Sam’s patrol so that they could feed, and get more blood for Bella.

Seth, Leah, and You had agreed to help with the plan. Jacob had distracted Sam’s pack long enough to allow the Cullens to escape, and for a moment you all thought you had won a victory. The Cullens could feed, Bella would be safe, and no one would have to die.

But then all hell broke loose. While The Cullens rushed to save Bella, Sam’s pack decided to launch their attack. You had sounded the alarm to Jacob, ripping out a guttural howl into the night sky. Leah and Seth had already sprung into action, blurs of fur clashing into the night. Alice and Jasper joined the fight as well, battling the wolves that were once their allies.

Jacob’s mind had been a jumbled mess. His fear for Bella tore his heart in one direction, but his worry for his family tore him in the other. His heart pounded in his chest as he stared in horror as Edward pulled the baby from Bella. The smell of blood burned in Jacob’s nostrils as he watched his best friend lie lifeless on the table. His head was ringing. He couldn’t register Edwards words as he began to preform CPR on Bella. Jacob felt his legs move him on his own accord, as his body left the room in a tranced state.

Bella was dead. He had expected it. Tried to mentally prepare for it, but now that it was here… his chest felt empty. What was all of this pain for? Why did Jacob love Bella if he knew it would always end in death? Was this how love was supposed to be? Constant pain? Unending torture?

Jacob collapsed outside of the Cullen’s house and began to sob. The battle raged on around him, his pack and the Cullens fighting Sam’s pack. You were grappling with Embry and Quill, keeping them from reaching the house while Leah and Seth were out of sight. Jacob looked at the scene before him as his body broke out in heaved sobs. You heard his anguished cries and felt your soul tug. The desperate need to be there for him roared in your mind as you fought.

The imprint bond, the tether that seemed to shape your heart sang out within your blood. You felt a surge of strength return to your body as you flung Quill against a tree, hearing a whimper escape his wolf form. Embry lunged at you again, but you were able to sidestep him and sink your teeth into the back of his leg. Once he too fell, you spun around to Jacob. Guilt flashed through your mind for a moment, these were your friends— your brothers after all. As much as it pained you to admit it though, Jacob came first. Always.

The brokenness of his face told you all you needed to know. Bella was dead.

Your heart ached with the thought of your friend. Bella had been a kind soul. The kind of person you only encountered once in a lifetime. You knew the likelihood of her passing, but you held our hope for her. Maybe there would be time for the Cullens to change her. Maybe she would make it after all. You always held hope, not just for her, but for Jacob as well. You dreaded this day. The day Jacob’s heart would shatter beyond repair.

You began to sprint towards Jacob, to protect him from the battle as he sat there out in the open, but you heard a scream to the right of you. Paul had Alice pinned underneath him. The small vampire had her hands gripped on either side of Paul’s jaw to keep back his sharp canines. She could have easily beaten Paul if her strength was up, but she had needed to feed for days now, and you could see the struggle in her eyes.

Perhaps it was stupid to care for a vampire. Everything you were taught went against what your heart told you. Alice was your friend. She seemed no less human to you than Seth or Leah. And she needed help.

Suddenly you were pounding towards Paul. You slammed into him with enough force to knock the wind out of yourself. You snapped at him, gripping a chunk of his fur as the two of you tumbled in the dirt. You saw a pale flash if movement, and hoped it was Alice escaping into the house. Paul seems to support this theory as he let out a horrible snarl. His claws dug into your sides and the pain was enough to cause you to release him. He pinned you down easily enough, his strength had always overmatched yours. You looked into his dark eyes as he plunged his teeth around your neck. The crunch was horrific. You tried to scream, but the wind seemed to leave you as soon as your lips opened. You wanted to say his name, one last time. Your mind glazed over with pain as darkness quickly swept over your consciousness.

That was when everything snapped into place. Jacob felt as if his heart was being ripped from his chest as he watched Paul snap your neck. Suddenly, all of the memories of you flooded through his mind, but it was as if a lens had been removed. What had once been simple memories of one of his best friends, now became something unimaginably more important. The first day he met you. Jacob was struck by how beautiful you were, how sweet your voice sounded in his ears. The echo of it now was sweet music. He had been muted to it for so long. The memories of the two of you training together, how you both had leaned on each other for support as you navigated through these difficult changes. You had always been there, he realized. How had he never noticed until now?

Realization struck home, like a blazing sun clearing through the darkness. Jacob felt as if his whole world had shifted back into place. He had been wandering aimlessly in the world, trying so desperately to find his purpose, his meaning within the chaos. He tried to find it in loving Bella. How silly that seemed now. Now it was as if there never was a world where he did not belong to you. Where you did not spark his soul into a million burning fires.

My imprint… my soulmate.

Jacob’s thoughts were scattered and racing through his mind a million miles a second. He didn’t have time to sort through his emotions, all that mattered was you. And you were lying motionless on the ground, your body shifting back into your human form as Paul tossed you aside.

Jacob shifted in an instant and charged Paul. The force of the collision caused the tree they knocked into to snap at the base and crash into the Cullen’s yard. Jacob felt a primal rage course through his body. He dug his teeth into Paul’s shoulder and threw him into another tree. Paul yelped as Jacob went in again, snapping at his arm until a sickening crunch echoed into the night.

Jacob stop!

Seth’s voice echoed through Jacob’s mind, but Jacob did not relinquish. He would make Paul pay for what he did to you. For taking away his chance at happiness before he could even…

Jake, stop! You’re killing him!

Seth begged through his mind. Paul laid limp underneath Jacob, his fur a bloody mess as Jacob continued to thrash him. He was taking it too far, he knew, but he didn’t care.

“She’s alive!”

The voice was real. Not just a telepathic whisper. But a real, high pitched sounding yell. Jacob stopped in his tracks and spun around to see Alice leaning over you as the others watched him in horror. Alice had her head over your heart, listening to the faint beating.

“She’s alive Jacob, please, stop this.”

Jacob took a good look around to see that the chaos had stilled during his rage. The packs looked horrified, Sam especially as he ran to pull Paul away from him. The eerie quiet of the forest chilled Jacob’s back as he hurried himself beside your body. His anger refused to let him shift back into his human form, so he just stood there, watching as Alice carefully picked you up to carry you into the house.

It was Leah that shifted back first, looking at your body then at Jacob in disbelief.

“You imprinted on y/n…” she said. Jacob’s wolf just panted, his eyes locked on Sam and his pack in case they tried to make a break for the house. Leah turned to Sam, his wolf looking at them with fierce uncertainty. Sam couldn’t read Jacob’s thoughts anymore, but Leah could. She recognized what an imprint felt like, knew what kind of bond that was. She knew Sam did too, and in that she saw their salvation.

“Jacob imprinted on y/n!” She yelled loud enough for all of the packs to hear. Sam’s eyes widened at Jacob, and for a moment his resolve finally wavered. Leah took notice and pointed at Sam. “You know our laws, all of you! If you kill her, you kill Jacob. Is this what you want Sam? Your friends— your family dead? Over what? A baby?” It had been the first time Jacob had heard Leah refer to Bella’s baby as such. It was enough to calm Jacob down enough to shift back into his human form.

“It’s true Sam. This has gone on long enough. I don’t want this… but I can’t lose her, please. We have to stop this fighting.”

Sam remained still for a moment as he looked at Jacob’s face. He tried to find the insincerity in Jacob’s voice, his expression, but he found none. It only took one glance at Paul for Sam to realize that only an imprint would cause that sort of violence from Jacob. They might have had their little fights in the past, but this was different. He thought of Emily being attacked and a chill ran down his spine. They were right. Enough was enough.

Sam turned to his pack, speaking a silent message through their minds. Quill and Embry helped Paul to his feet, leaning him up against each other as they limped out of the forest. Jacob waited in silence, half expecting them to return and finish them off.

“They won’t return,” Edward’s voice rose from behind Jacob. Jacob turned to face Edward, and was surprised to see him away from Bella. Edward just nodded at Jacob, and it was enough for now. “Let’s get her inside. Quick, Carlisle is on his way.” Alice carried you inside, Jacob and Edward close at on her heel. Everything else after that became a blur to Jacob. Carlisle and the rest of the Cullens arrived minutes later, and Carlisle began quick work on you to heal your wounds. Jacob stood by your side the entire time. Once you were stable, Carlisle moved you into Alice’s room, and kept you on fluids and a monitor as you slept.

It was a waiting game. Carlisle feared that there had been damage to your brain, but that he had hope you would wake up in your own time. Jacob thanked him as he left. Then it was just the two of you. Jacob sat next to you as the monitor made soft beeps. He held your limp hand, and ran his thumb over your skin.

There was a knock at the door, and Leah and Seth slipped into the room. Seth knelt beside the bed and put his hand on your forehead. A small gesture of love, as he whispered a small prayer. Seth’s eyes were watering and he sniffed as he rubbed his eyes.

“She’ll be okay, Seth,” Leah murmured, “She’s strong. She’s a fighter.”

“Yeah,” Seth said in a small ragged voice.

“Jake,” Leah said, “She’ll make it.”

Jacob just gave a small nod. His throat felt clogged. He felt warm tears fall down his cheek as he rested his head in your hand. He felt his pack put their hand in his shoulders. “Why did it take so long?” Jacob finally choked out, “why now?”

Leah gave a bitter laugh. “One thing I’ve learned is that this ability can be cruel. There may not be any rhyme or reason, but it’s what we have to survive. And she will, she will survive this. You both will.”

Jacob let himself cry as he held your hand. He whispered into your palm, begging for you to wake up. He had so much he wanted to say to you. Things he wished he could explain, apologize for the time he had wasted chasing false dreams. Sense left him, and finally the pain and sorrow was all he felt. He was surrounded by his family and let their love warm the fractured pieces of his tired weary soul.

Your eyes fluttered open two days later. Disoriented, you struggled to raise your head up to look around, but got caught up against the breathing tubes and neck brace. You raised your hand to remove them but a strong hand gently gripped your wrists. The touch was familiar, beautifully familiar.

“Steady there speed racer,” Jacob’s husky voice warmed the side of your face. You let him guide your hand back down as you blinked away the rest of your drowsiness. “Jake…what happened…?”

“Shhh shhh,” he cooed, his hand stroked the side of your face. You thought you were still in a dream state, his touch was warm and comforting. “It doesn’t matter. None of it matters.” You resisted the temptation to lean your head deeper into his palm, the scent of him was intoxicating.

You scrunched your brow in confusion. Not matter? Your mind struggled to recall your last memories. You remembered seeing blood on the living room floor, then the green forest just outside of the Cullen house, then a large black wolf lunging towards you…

“Paul,” you whispered. The memories came crashing back in a torrential wave. You tried to jerk up on bed again, but the brace and tubes kept you back.

“What happened? Is everyone okay? Did Alice— oh my god, Bella??”

Jacob put his hands on either side of your face to calm you. “It’s okay, everyone’s fine. Everyone’s fine.” You tried to calm your breathing, but the memories of that night stormed in your mind. Jacob’s presence calmed you; his touch was enough to bring you back into the present.

“I don’t… understand. Jake…”

Jacob explained away the time you missed, careful to leave out the imprinting. He was waiting to see the change in you too, to see if the bond had reshaped your life as it had his. But to his dismay, he saw no change. How could he possibly bring it up to you? Would you even believe him? Just days ago he had been fighting so hard for Bella, the girl he though he loved. How could he ever begin to explain?

Little did he know that your life had already been reshaped. That the bond had formed for you the first moment you saw him. Jacob swallowed his disappointment as he finished his story.

“So, Bella’s gonna be okay? Edward saved her in time?” You asked.

Jacob nodded. “It seems so. Carlisle thinks she should wake up in the next day or so.” Your shoulders relaxed a bit at that bit of information. You hadn’t lost a friend after all.

“But wait, I still don’t understand…, how did Leah convince Sam to leave again?”

Jacob blanked for a moment. She had hoped you wouldn’t notice how he skimmed over that detail, but of course you hadn’t. Jacob opened his mouth to try and craft a delicate lie, but luckily he was saved by Carlisle knocking on the door.

“Ah, good, my favorite patient is up.” Carlisle gave you a warm smile as he approached you. You were happy to see him, healthy and alive. His eyes had returned to a golden brown, and his overall mood seemed happy compared to the last few months.

He began to check on the monitors and tubes, noting your heart rate and oxygen levels. He turned to Jacob.

“Would you mind if I spoke with y/n, alone for a moment?” Jacob wanted to protest, he hadn’t left your side at all while you were under, but that was when he didn’t have to hide anything. He looked at you for a moment, letting himself have the satisfaction of seeing you awake, alive and well, before peeling himself from the chair.

“Of course Doc,” Jacob said with a small smirk. You watched him as he left, giving him a smile as he turned back to look at you before closing the door.

Jacob descended the stairs, his emotions a swirl of confusion. At the base he ran into Leah and Seth, both of whom looked excited. “Edward told us the news. Is she finally awake?” Seth asked, his eyes alight with excitement. Jacob nodded, but he put his hand on Seth’s shoulder. “She’s awake and well. The Doc is talking with her now, but I need to talk with the two of you.”

“Sure, what is it Jake?” Seth asked. Leah just stood there with her arms crossed. She seemed a bit more relaxed after hearing you were okay, but being in the Cullens house was still tough for her, and Jacob appreciated her effort.

Jacob took a slow, steady breath. “I don’t want to tell her about the imprint.” His voice was low and steady. Seth began to protest while Leah held a straight face.

“Listen, this is how it needs to be. Whatever happened the other night seems to only have happened to me. I don’t want to force her into something like this… for her to feel obligated to feel something for me that she doesn’t. She’s kind hearted, and too gentle. I can’t do that to her. And I know I can’t keep it from her forever, but just for now… until I figure out a way to tell her. Please.”

You too Cullen. Please, if you could spread the word to your family… I would appreciate it.

Jacob knew Edward would be able to hear their conversation. He only hoped Edward would play along, for your sake more so than his.

Seth gave Leah an uncertain look, but Leah just nodded in response. “We won’t say anything, but Jake,” Leah began, “we don’t want your heart to break anymore either.”

Jacob just gave a small smile. The images of you flashed through his mind. All of the memories of you in his life, and how much those moments had meant to you, even then. Now they were everything. The breath of life sustaining his soul. He had a purpose now. A reason to always fight, to always be there.

You, and only you.

“It’ll be worth it this time, no matter what happens. Believe me, everything’s different now. Everything.”

Tag-list

@steverogersgirlfriend-blog @milesquaritchh

#twiligh x reader #twilight fic #fem reader #twilight #jacob black x reader #jacob black #Jacob black twilight #fated to love you #fated mates #hurt/comfort #twilight love #werewolves #werewolf #fanfic

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dontexpectmuch · 3 months

Text

part 3 - [Lost in Madrid]

author note; judiño truly is a menace to society, but also a goof. hope you like it, guys!!!!!!

(did not proofread)

series.masterlist

“i bet you can’t hit the crossbar from here.” lucas, a young player from another football team, speaks up, playfully hitting judes shoulder.

jude chuckles, eyes now looking at the goals crossbar lucas was referring to. it is located on the right side of the benches, a bit smaller than an actual goal, but that wouldn’t be a problem for him. he also sees another person sitting on the benches, their head turned down, probably reading something from their book.

jude takes the ball and places it in front of him, looking at the crossbar them back at the ball as he takes a fee steps back, only to run back up to the ball and kick it with his right foot. immediately the ball flys up, some pieces if grass getting pulled along as he and a few other teammates watch the ball fly to direction of the goal.

too weak, he thinks to himself, though he does not habe enough time to criticize himself any further, his eyes widening as he sees where exactly the ball was flying to.

“yo, watch out!” he screams on the top of his lungs, a few other guys doing the same, to no avail.

[un]fortunately, you hear their calls, a bit late though, because as soon as you look up you are met with a football directly hitting the right side of your face, pushing you back against your seat.

“fuck.” jude mutters to himself under his breath, already jogging towards you and coach lagarde, who was crouched in front of you.

his heart threatens to jump out his chest, it feels like he couldn’t breathe and different scenarios are going through his head until he reaches the two of you,

“señor i am, so, fuck, i am so sorry.” the words leave his mouth, almost like he couldn’t control them.

both men look at you, sitting in your seat with your head in your hands, taking deep breaths. jude bends down slightly, hand softly touching your shoulder, as if he was afraid to hurt you any further.

“i am, eh, mucho, mucho siento.”

great, now isn’t the right time to forget how to speak spanish properly, he almost gave you a concussion, or fuck, what if you have a concussion because of his stupid mistake.

you take another deep breath and lift your head, eyes still closed. you try to open them, it seems as if the bright outside bothers you, making you close your eyes again. jude sees a few tears slip down your cheek and decides to stand in front of you, shielding you from the sun. you open them again, blinking rapidly until you get used to the light.

he hears you mumble something under your breath, and looks around to gibe you something that might help, his eyes register a feeling water bottles on the ground and he immediately picks one up, opens its lid and hands it to you, “here.”

you thank him, taking a few sips to help you to calm down.

“that was a hell of a shot.” you say, voice raspy, making judes skin tickle.

he scratches the back of his neck, sighing, “yeah, sorry about that.”

coach lagarde decides to take you to the nurse, telling him to go back to the field and continue his training. so, he does as he is told and groans as he sees his teammates faces.

“is that your way of flirting?” one of them asks, earning a round of giggles from the others.

“shut it, amigo. i hope it’s not a concussion.” jude turns to look at the door you and señor disappeared into, hoping to speak to you before you leave.

training resumes again, though jude can’t help but let his thoughts wander on, thinking about ways to apologize to you. he should definitely go to the nurse as soon as he can, just find a way to talk to you and make sure that you are doing well. jude can’t help but cringe at the accident that happened earlier, passing the ball back to his teammate as he moves up to a different position. hitting someone in their face? that has never happened before! why would it happen now, out of all times.

as soon as training ends and the coach reminds them to eat their protein, jude quickly moves to walk into the nurse office, eyes searching for you everywhere.

“buenos días.” he walks in, but other than the nurse no one was inside the office, making his shoulders sack.

“¿Cómo puedo ayudarte chico?” the lady asks, eyes curious.

“eh,” jude pauses, thinking of ways to speak spanish, however he gives up as no actual word comes to his mind and decides to stick to english, “did someone come in here earlier? with señor lagarde?”

the woman nods, telling him that you have already left twenty minutes ago, also adding that it wasn’t that bad, that you would be okay by tomorrow. jude thanks her and wishes her a nice day as he leaves her office, a sigh leaving his lips as he continues to walk to the parking lot where his mother would be waiting for him.

he’ll definitely apologize to you, he just has to find the right moment to do so.

————————————————————

the cafeteria is buzzing with people talking and laughing during their break, the air conditioning is working overtime, though it stands no chance against madrids heat, and the crowd inside.

though jude only spends two days of the week at the center, he can’t help but feel a certain familiarity as he walks through the cafeteria, eyes looking through the tables of people, searching for someone.

even though this someone isn’t someone he actually knows, this person made him spent extra time on his hair and skincare routine this morning, making him trim his beard - if you can even call it that - and cut his nails. he chose his nicest pair of sport gear, wanting to get a reaction from you.

he holds his head high, eyes focused on finding your head, causing him to accidentally bump into someone.

“didn’t see you there.” he says, eyes still wandering, adding a quick, “‘m sorry.” as he moves on, thinking that he sighted you.

it is only when he is ten meters away that he notices that, fuck, you are the person he bumped into, not even giving you a proper apology once again. he quickly turns around, panicky expression on and high alerted. however you are no where to be seen, seemingly having left the cafeteria after the small incident.

jude sighs, “fucking great.”

————————————————————

the following week, jude tried his best to gain your attention somehow, but the only time to do so is during practice. so, he does what everyone would do in his situation, be an attention seeker.

he would be extra loud, yell at your direction and wave, not really gaining any reaction whatsoever.

other times, he tries to - gently - flank the football towards the bench you are sitting on, or try to hit your legs softly whenever your back is turned away, speaking to coach lagarde.

however, nothing - and he genuinely means nothing - would make you react. like a stone cold person, you’d just stand there, maybe look annoyed to the direction the ball came from, but nothing else.

truly frustrating.

——————————————————

it has already been a week since you and jude - forcefully- spent the evening in your home, talking [he was doing that for the most part] and enjoying each other’s company [he for sure did]. he feels like a friendship between you two isn’t impossible anymore, since you also [kinda] got used to his presence.

so, whenever he is at the center, getting in his spanish lessons and what not, he will also spend time with you. you still won’t let him walk you home, claiming that it is too much for now and that you would rather wake with your friend.

at first he thought that said friend of yours would be that woman that you sometimes get coffee with from the cafeteria, so immersed in your conversation that you won’t even notice jude sitting across from you at another table, eyes looking at your fave at any given chance.

he is proven wrong when he walks past your apartment building one day, on his way to get some snacks, seeing you and some other dude walking down the street, laughing and seemingly having a good time. you solely focus on that mana face, nodding and smiling at whatever he says, making judes blood boil in a way he has never felt before. if he could, would’ve run across the street to pull you away from that guy, telling you that he is way funnier than him and that you should look at him that way. he internally pats his own shoulder for not giving in to his thoughts, continuing his walk to the store to get his snacks.

now, the two of you are sitting on the bench outside on the sidelines of the field, jude spending his water break talking to you.

“so like, you just listen and watch how we react to given commands from señor?” he questions your work here, genuine interest present in his voice.

you nod, swallowing the piece if bread in your mouth, “i just watch how you guys pick up the language, in comparison to babies, for example. babies learn the language because they naturally need to communicate in order to express themselves. now, you guys are older, able to express your needs. but i want to see how you would do it in an environment that isn’t in your familiarity, y’know?”

“ahh.” he nods again, taking another sip from his bottle.

you look pretty today, he notes, eyes looking at your outfit, then your face. the sun starts to set slowly, crafting calming colors in the sky, adding to your prettiness.

“is this your last session, today?” he asks, bending down to tighten his shoelaces.

“yeah.”

“let’s stay after practice-“

you cut him off, “no, i still don’t want you to walk me home-“

he scoffs, “i wanted to stay and practice a little longer with you, but okay. main character syndrome is real.”

you hum, before agreeing, telling him you’ll wait. jude smiles and gets up from his seat, ready to go back. “you know, i am funnier than your guy that walks you home.”

“lorenzo?” you look up at him, eyes meeting his.

damn, even your eyes are fucking pretty.

“don’t care about what his name is, you would laugh louder with me than you do with him.” jude continues, a weird feeling taking place in his chest.

oh no, is he getting influenced by your negative energy?

“that’s rude.” you mock him, mimicking his voice and accent, horribly failing at it, too.

this makes him laugh, almost giggling like a little schoolboy. he catches himself, turning quiet and clearing his throat.

“i, eh, i should go.” fuck, why was he making things so awkward?

you cutely smile at him, oh god - you cutely smile at him - telling him you will be here until he finishes the session.

this gives him the boost of motivation he needed to go through the practice session, smile never leaving his lips and eyes wandering to your direction every once in a while.

“this is why you wanted to stay longer? to race?” you rest your hands on your hips, looking at jude the way his mother would look at him whenever he did something he shouldn’t have.

“it will be fun! strengthen our bond!” he explains himself, coming back to stand next to you after putting a cone a few meters away from you guys as a finish line.

“we aren’t friends.” you quickly deny, making jude chuckle.

“oh, we so are.” he says, stretching his arms a bit, “we are like, wait, lemme think, eh. do you know those moon and sun duos on tiktok?”

“no, i don’t.”

“you’re definitely the moon, all gloomy and dark and cold and mean and i am the sun, super nice, wholesome, hot and beautiful.” he explains, giggling at the sour expression you throw at his direction.

jude tells you to get in position, counting down to three to signal the go. you get ready, determined to give your best even though you wish to lay in your bed right now. it doesn’t matter that he plays football for a living and has been running around his whole life. you won’t go down without a fight.

“okay,” jude raises his voice, bending down slightly, “one, two,” he looks at you, seriousness painting your face, “three!” and before you know it, jude pushes you away, making you lose your balance and almost fall down as he sprints away, passing the finish line faster than you can register.

“dude!” you yell out, “what the hell was that?!” you walk up to him, but he doesn’t take you serious, hands resting on his knees as he loudly laughs at you.

only when you start to hit his shoulder he stands up, jogging away from your hands, to no avail, as you decide to follow him and continue to hit him with your hands.

“stop moving! i will end you!” you yell out, now properly running after him, his laugh booming through the entire field.

you don’t know how long this goes on for, but before you know both of you are laying on the ground, heavy breaths leaving your mouths and sweat shining on your forehead, covering your body as well. jude was the first one to lay down, taking you with him as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down with him. you are too out of breath to notice, but his warm hand stays wrapped around your wrist, his thumb gently caressing the inside of it.

“i hope you know,” you calm down a bit, turning your head to the left to look at him, his eyes already focused on you, “you are so, incredibly, indescribably, so out of this world-ly, annoying. i genuinely hope you know and understand that.”

“wow,” jude smirks, hand letting go of your wirst to prob his head against it, now looking down at you a bit, “and i thought you would confess you undying love and adoration towards me.”

“in your dreams.” you roll your eyes. looking back up at the sky.

“in my dreams we do even more than that.” he winks - heh, he wishes - at you, even though he knows that you don’t see it.

you groan, hitting his chest with your left hand. of course he would say something like that, but you can’t help and laugh at your current situation. here you are, laying on faux grass, the sun setting, the breeze softly kissing your skin.

“what’s so funny.” jude asks, also smiling.

you shrug, not sure what to say, “don’t know, ‘m just, like, i guess i’m just happy right now?”

“me too.” jude lays back onto his back, facing up to look at the sky.

everything right now is just, perfect.

——————————————————

with lorenzo by your side, the two of you walk into the cafeteria, your lunch break finally in the same time slot. it has been a busy week, with many new students coming in and practice sessions going longer than usual. these are the last two weeks before international break for the volleyball players, their teams demanding them to take in as many courses as they can.

“maybe you should make them read books?” lorenzo suggests, his hand on the small of your back to guide you to your table.

sighing, you shake your head and take seat, “that won’t help, many of them can’t even right a sentence correctly due to the silent letters.”

lorenzo hums, taking a bite from his sandwich. since he only has spanish players trying to learn english, he won’t be in such a hurry to get through the lessons as fast as you are.

your eyes scan the room, not particularly searching for anything [that’s a lie], seeing all the people talk amongst themselves and laughing at the stuff by said. the second month of your internship already started, but it feels like forever since you started here. you grew to love these people, the food and the culture. you are happy with the job you have here and the friends you made. but when you can’t spot the person you are actually looking for - yes, you admit it - you feel your shoulders sack, disappointment spreading through your chest.

it’s not like you miss jude, no, you don’t, but seeing him just makes your day feel complete. ever since the two of you started to spend more time together, you [forcefully] started to enjoy his presence more than you ever thought you would. jude still is as annoying as ever, constantly teasing you whenever he gets the chance, but that only let’s you tease him back as well, comfortable banter between you two.

“you good, linda?”

lorenzos voice pulls you out of your thoughts, making you focus on him once more.

you smile, nodding simply at his words as you take a sip from your juice.

he leans forward, voice low, “don’t make it obvious, but the british player behind you look at you like he wants to throw knives at your head.”

you immediately turn around, heart beating fast since you know whom he is referring to.

and there he is, eyes narrowed and jaw clenched. the hand on top of the table is also clenched, and instead of focusing on the conversation around the table, he just looks at you, or more like, past you, at lorenzo.

“nah, that is his default stare.” you wave off, turning back to drink your juice, a smile finding its way onto your lips.

you quickly realize what is happening and try to shake out of it, smile instantly vanishing.

what the fuck was happening to you? did he actually manage to influence you with his stupid behavior? would you also be this annoying now?

lorenzo shrugs, finishing his food and taking your dishes back to the cleaning station. you follow suit, turning back once more to have a final look at jude, his eyes already focused on you. he sends you a wink - not really - and you respond with a wave, turning around to walk back to your class with lorenzo.

you day goes on like it always does, answering questions, correcting reports and spending time on the field to watch the practice sessions go on. you also have few conversations with other players, asking them about their experience when learning a language and having to usw it during stressful situations. the process of your thesis slowly builds up, the results better than you anticipated.

as you pack your back after the session, the you feel somebody standing in front of you, blocking the sunlight to hit your body. looking up, you see a sweaty jude, breath rising and falling in a even manner.

“can i help you, señor bellingham?” you ask, standing up, eyes never leaving his.

are you the only one that suddenly feels really hot?

“walk with me?”

“you smell.” you scrunch your face, smile however still visible.

“the showers here are weird, i’ll shower at home.” he pats his forehead with a towel, “so, walk with me?” he asks again, hopeful tone never wavering.

you tilt your head to the side, “doesn’t your mother pick you up?”

“told her that we are walking home-“

“lying is bad, judy.” you throw in, making him roll his eyes.

“-so you have to walk with me.”

“it’s not my fault that you lied to your mum, jude.” you shrug, starting to walk away.

you don’t have to turn around to know that jude follows you, you can already feel his body heat on your back. he is close, you note, though as you turn around you seem to underestimate how close he actually is. your face is close to his broad chest, you can smell his perfume mixed with sweat and the scent of grass. you should be gagging at how close you are to his sweaty body, but somehow it doesn’t bother you as mich as you thought it would. instead, you feel your heart racing, its sound in your ears. jude looks down at you, dark eyes pulling you into a trance.

before you get too immersed, you pull back, “eh, excuse me? ever heard something of personal space?”

he shrugs, picking up his own back to sling it over his shoulder. he walks ahead, opening gate to leave the field, “let’s go home, wanna shower.”

you don’t say anything, deciding to walk through the gate and wait for jude to shut it behind him. you begin to walk home, comfortable silence settling between you two, the suns setting rays feeling like fairy dust on your skin. the sky is orange, hints or purple and pink creating the perfect scene for a relaxing walk. from the conner of your eye you try to look at jude, wanting to see if he enjoys this walk as mich as you do. he simply looks ahead, soft smile and shoulders relaxed. he looks really good surrounded by the different colors of the sky.

“you’re pretty.” your voice is soft.

hearing you say that makes jude trip, making him choke on his own spit and coughing violently. your eyes widen, you immediately start to hit his back to make him regain his composure. the laughs spill from your lips, it is out of your control.

“thanks-“ he coughs again, hitting his chest to help him calm down, “thanks. i know.” his voice, a few seconds ago high pitched, is now low, wanting to sound cool even though you just giggle at his antics.

“wow,” you mockingly say, “what happened to the over confident man that used to brag how hot he is? is this what a compliment does to you?”

“no, it’s just, y’know, your first time being nice to me.” he explains, switching place with you so he would walk on the outside of the road, his touch on your shoulder leaving a burning feeling on it.

eyebrows drawn together, you look at his side profile, “that’s not true! i am always super nice to you!”

“nah.”

“i am!”

he pauses, eyes looking at yours before he looks ahead, “nah.”

“puta.” you say under your breath.

“i heard that.” jude slightly bumps his shoulder against yours, making you sway.

“good.” you return his gesture - though he doesn’t move at all.

soon enough you arrive at your apartment building, slowly coming to halt with jude now standing in front of you. you don’t know what to do, should you hug him as a goodbye? should you shake his hand, pat his shoulder? shit, this is harder than you thought it would be.

it seems like jude could read your mind, because before you know it, you feel his arms around your body, pulling you against him. you are too slow to react, he pulls away and smiles at you, making your knees feel weak.

what is happening? what is all of this?

“soo,” you begin, suddenly all shy around him, oh god, what is this?

“soo,” jude mirrors your stance, hands behind his back, “it isn’t that bad to walk home with me, eh?”

you hum, slightly rocking back and forth on your heels, “it was bearable.” you agree, your cheeks start to hurt from all the smiling you have done in the past few minutes.

“does that mean you would do it again?” he asks, eyes holding the stars in them, the sunset behind him making him look so pretty, it hurt.

“hm, maybe?” you tease back, taking a step back to lean against the front door, “i enjoy walking home with lorenzo as well, he is quite charming.”

jude scoffs, hands now on his hips, a signal that he is being serious, “he ain’t all that. bet i can beat him in a 100 meter sprint.”

you laugh, shrugging “who knows?”

“just you wait, i’ll show you.” he also starts to walk backwards, motioning turning around yet, “so, dinner at ours sometime?”

you nod, “sure, i’d love that.”

“great.”

the two of you silently look at each other, as if engaging in a conversation with your eyes. jude waves at you one last time before turning around to continue his way home. though he doesn’t see it, you wave back, not really sure why you do it.

you walk up to your apartment, opening the door and taking off your shoes. after washing your hands and preparing yourself something to eat you sit down onto the couch in living room, or phone at hand. you reply back to some of your friends, update your mom about your day and send her a few pictures of the places you have visited in the last week. just as you want to put your phone down to eat the last few bites of your pasta, you hear your phone go off - a new notification.

[from; Jude Bellingham]: u up?

[to; Jude Bellingham]: still don’t wanna fuck you.

[from; Jude Bellingham]: THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT

[to; Jude Bellingham]: suree

[to; Jude Bellingham]: what did you need?

[from; Jude Bellingham]: okay rude

[from; Jude Bellingham]: can’t i just start a conversation with my friend???

[from; Jude Bellingham]: yknow like friends do???

[to; Jude Bellingham]: no

[to; Jude Bellingham]: babysitting hours are over

[from; Jude Bellingham]: AHA

[from; Jude Bellingham]: so you admit that we r friends??

[to; Jude Bellingham]: good night jude

[from; Jude Bellingham]: booooo tomato tomato

you roll your eyes as you lock your phone, getting up to wash your dishes. your phone rings again, but you only get to it around twenty minutes later, being caught up in cleaning your kitchen and writing a grocery list for tomorrow.

INSTAGRAM

[@yourinsta] @judebellingham wants to follow you!

you roll your eyes, not even fighting off the smile on your lips. you don’t think twice and accept his request, following him back. you stay on his account, deciding to stalk him a little.

that’s what everyone does, right?

you look through his following, smile slowly fading as you see how many models he follows. but, you shake out of it, you shouldn’t let this get to you, you think, he is an attractive, young and successful guy, obviously he would be in touch with other women. instead of making yourself sad, you leave the app, sighing.

he is a guy, a pretty guy and single. what if he has a girlfriend? and never got the chance to tell you about it? that wouldn’t be unexpected, he is a nice person. oh, this feeling in your chest, the way it reaches down to your stomaches leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

you get up and go to the bathroom to wash your face and get bed ready.

you shouldn’t jump into any conclusions, they might be his friends! just like you are, maybe. you should just let things go, be normal and enjoy your time here in madrid. jude doesn’t owe you any explanation.

finishing your routine, you get under your bedsheets, sighing once more before deciding to relax.

everything will be just fine.

at the same time, jude lays in his bed, lights out, his phone screen illuminating his face. his fingers scroll down his following list, removing every woman that isn’t you, or one of his close friends. his cheeks already hurt from smiling the entire evening and his chest feels light.

as he finishes his task, he moves back to re-reads your guy’s chat from earlier, giggling when he reads your cute answers. oh god, how could you be so funny without even trying?

he locks his phone, putting it screen down against his chest as he looks up the ceiling, feeling impatient as he waits for the next day to arrive.

#jude bellingham #football one shot #football x reader #x reader #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x you #football #jude bellingham fluff

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phantasmiafxndom · 8 months

Note

Kny pet au: I want to take in all hantengu clones and nurse them all back to full health. Their hair is definitely tangled and they totally stink from never having a bath, don't know I'll work around Karaku having odd reactions to touch in order to bath him.

This request will focus on the bath part~ :3

. . .

Sekido

It's a good idea to keep him muzzled during the bath. That may seem cruel, but all of the unfamiliar handling and sensation is likely to end in Sekido lashing out at you if you don't. The warm water feels undeniably good and your touch doesn't hurt, but he's still painfully on edge and instinctively waiting for the pain to start. Every little bit of contact makes him growl and twitch, but afterward, when he's clean and dry and warm for the first time in probably ever, he's far more grateful than he wants you to know.

Karaku

He's a bit agitated going in, but once the warm water and gentle touches register, he's going limp and almost cross-eyes from the pleasure response kicking in. You'll have to manhandle him quite a bit (Karaku is basically a ragdoll at that point), but he's leaning into your hands and all but whimpering as the touching continues. Having his hair washed is utter bliss, even if he can still hardly believe he's allowed to melt into the heat like this. Now that he knows how good baths feel, they might as well be a reward.

Aizetsu

Though he doesn't have the will to resist very much, being handled and exposed is awful. Aizetsu tries to stay curled up and hidden from as much potential abuse as possible— but even though he's shaking and biting back sobs, he's too weak to stop you from moving his body as you need to. All of the touching is terrifying at the same time that it feels unbearably good, and soon enough, the heat and gentle contact gets the better of him. He's half-asleep by the time you're done, and so very pliant.

Urogi

He's never been in a proper bath before (in the past, it was the hose at best), so the unfamiliar situation is both exciting and highly overstimulating. Urogi keeps squirming and twitching his wings and trying to stand up— the water on his skin feels weird, but you're touching him so much that the whole experience still registers as a reward. You're bound to get soaked in the process, but he's awfully cute afterward when he's still half-damp. His feathers end up all puffy and fluffed while he's getting dry.

#Kimetsu no Yaiba #KnY #Hantengu #Sekido #Karaku #Aizetsu #Urogi #Headcanon #Reader #KnY Pet Au

264 notes · View notes

sourwolf-sterek32 · 20 days

Text

Idiotic Hero

Summary: Nikki Sixx chooses a random fan from the crowd to come on stage and it happens to be you. But what happens when a person with a knife pushes through security and runs straight towards you both?

Pairings: Nikki Sixx x Reader, Mötley Crüe & Reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings- language, blood, serious injury, mentions of past drug & alcohol abuse

Part 1

Part 2

You awoke to the pungent smell of hospital disinfectant. Slowly you opened your eyes, squinting in attempt to sharpen the blurred images before you.

Pain.

That was the first thing you really registered when you started to wake up. Sharp pain coming from your lower abdomen.

There was a faint beeping in the background, and it wasn't hard to figure out that you were in a hospital. But why? How long have you been here?

You closed your eyes trying to remember what happened before it suddenly hit you.

The concert. The knife. Nikki Sixx. Holy shit.

Your eyes snapped open as you looked down to find yourself lying in a hospital bed. Your Mötley Crüe shirt and black jeans now replaced with a faded hospital gown.

The ceiling above you was illuminated with a white, fluorescent light that had no right to be as bright as it was. The rest of the room was empty. You were literally in your own private hospital room and there was no way you could afford this.

The pain in your stomach was starting to get worse as you looked around to find an IV drop in your arm. You reached down gently brushing your hand over your lower abdomen feeling a thick bandage wrapped around your mid-section hidden by the gown.

Suddenly, the door across the room opened and you had to do a double take when Nikki Sixx stepped inside.

Nikki closed the door quietly behind himself not wanting to wake you. He took a sip of the shitty hospital coffee cup in his hand before he turned and then quite literally dropped the coffee when he saw you staring right back at him.

The brown takeaway cup fell to the ground. The plastic lid popping off on impact spilling the dark liquid over the floor. The bassist didn't seem to notice nor care as he limped across the room towards you.

Am I dead? You wondered as you stared at the rockstar by your bedside who you grew up idolizing. You were definitely dead. Was this heaven? Should you start looking around for Freddie Mercury and Bon Scott?

Nikki chuckled softly, "you're not dead, sweetheart."

Oh, you had said all of that aloud.

"Where-where am I?" You asked, your voice coming out rougher than you've ever heard it.

"Hospital. Your heart stopped twice in the ambulance on the way here. You're lucky to be alive." Nikki answered.

You nodded slowly trying to process that because, shit. That was bad.

If you were being honest, you were surprised that you were actually alive and breathing. Your memories after getting stabbed were fuzzy, but you remembered how much blood there had been.

There was so much blood. Nikki's hands were covered with it. Vince's scarf was soaked within seconds. How were you alive?

You must have zoned out for a few minutes because there was now a nurse standing at the foot of your bed writing something down on the clipboard in her hand.

"So, is she going to be okay?" Nikki asked eyeing the nurse almost worriedly.

"She will be. The knife missed any vital organs, but she did lose a lot of blood. She will be weak for a while and in a significant amount of pain, but the stitches are holding nicely. She should be able to be discharged tomorrow morning." The nurse answered before she looked over at you. "Do you have any questions, dear?"

You shook your head, and she gave you a gentle smile before walking out the room leaving you and Nikki alone. The bassist stared at you for a moment before he limped over to the chair by your bedside and sat down with a wince.

He was injured. Nikki was hurt because of you.

"I'm sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper and if it was any softer, Nikki would have missed it. "I'm so sorry for pushing you off the stage. That's all my fault."

You chewed at your lower lip, eyes welling up with tears as you stared down at his bandaged ankle. That was your fault. Nikki Sixx was injured because of you.

"This wasn't your fault." Nikki hurriedly reassured seeming unsure how to deal with your sudden emotions. "You saved my life, Y/N. If it wasn't for you, I would have been stabbed and probably wouldn’t be here right now."

"I still hurt you though."

"A sprained ankle is nothing. If you had hurt my bass hand, we would be having a very different conversation." He joked causing you to crack a small smile.

You wiped the tears from your eyes and tried to sit up on the bed which turned out to be a bad idea because even the slight movement sent sharp pain shooting through your midsection. You let out a pained hiss as you dropped your head back down on the pillow and rested your hand over your stomach.

"Easy. Just take it easy. Is there anyone I can call for you? Friends? Family?" He asked already pulling his phone out, but you shook your head and his brows furrowed, "I can call someone for you. Let them know what's happened or-"

"I have no one." You whispered.

Nikkis confusion turned to almost sadness as he stared at you before simply nodding as he tucked his phone back into the front pocket of his jeans. It was clear the bassist wanted to ask more questions but didn't get the chance before the door suddenly opened and a familiar rockstar walked inside.

Vince Neil.

The singer sidestepped around the spilt coffee on the floor before making his way towards the two of you.

"Hey, you're awake. How are you feeling, kid?" Vince asked surprised that you were now conscious.

"Uh, okay." You answered hesitantly trying to process the fact that both Nikki Sixx and Vince Neil were in your hospital room.

"Any luck with the manager?" Nikki asked looking over at his bandmate.

Vince shook his head, "he called back and said they were still trying to figure out how that guy got inside the stadium with a knife. He's been arrested though, and the police are looking into it."

You were curious to know how long the man would get behind bars for stabbing someone but didn't get a chance to ask before the door to your room opened once again.

"Fucking hell, that's a tripping hazard." Tommy's voice suddenly said as you looked past Vince to find Tommy Lee tiptoeing around the coffee on the floor like it was a biohazard. "What happened, Sixx? Did you spill- oh, shit, you're awake!"

Tommy's face lit up when he realised your eyes were open, and he jogged the remaining distance until he was standing beside Vince.

"See, I told you that she would be okay!" Tommy exclaimed pointing at you with a bright smile. "She's a tough chick."

Nikki sighed from his seat beside your bed, "can you guys give me a minute with her?"

Vince nodded patting Tommys shoulder and leading the drummer back towards the door, "John has the car downstairs. We'll be waiting. We're glad you're okay, Y/N."

"Thanks, Vince." You smiled softly watching the two of them walk out the room before you glanced back at Nikki whose green eyes were already looking at you.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" He asked gently. "I... I'm not comfortable with leaving you here alone."

"I'm fine on my own." You answered sadly but honestly. "I'm used to it. You don't need to worry."

Your words didn't seem to comfort the bassist though. He stared at you as a million different emotions washed over his face, but they were gone before you could decipher any of them.

You looked away from him not knowing what else to say as you glanced around the room and suddenly came to a very horrible realisation and that fear must have shown on your face because Nikki sat up on alert.

"What's wrong?"

"What time is it? I was meant to check out of my hotel at nine and my flight was due to board at midday." I said looking over at him in sudden panic.

"Yeah, that ain't happening. Sorry." Nikki answered.

Fuck.

"I-I can't afford this. A private room? An ambulance ride? These stitches..." You began to say motioning towards the stitches hidden beneath your gown. "I could barely afford concert tickets for this trip. Now I need to buy a new plane ticket and-"

"Don't worry about it." Nikki said cutting you off.

"That's easy coming from someone with lots of money." You snapped but instantly regretted it. "Sorry."

He smiled softly, "I remember what it was like not having money. Hell, we used to live off $20 a week back when we started the band."

"I know. I read the book... well I've read all of your books. Tommy and Vince's too. I hope that's not creepy."

Nikki chuckled, "it's not."

You nodded biting your lip as you glanced around the private hospital room anxiously. You could only just afford the plane tickets and hotel room for this trip. You couldn't pay for hospital fees or a new plane ticket.

This concert was a once in a lifetime opportunity. Mötley Crüe was your favourite band, and you didn't know if they'd ever tour again, so you pooled all your money and savings together to pay for it. You had the budget down to the last dollar and it would've been fine, but you did not see this incident coming.

"I've already paid for your hospital bills. I'll organise for someone to collect your luggage from whatever hotel you were staying at." Nikki began to say like he could somehow read your mind.

You shook your head before his words actually registered in your brain. "Wait, you paid my hospital bill?"

"Yeah, and while you were busy freaking out just now, I've texted my manager to book you into the hotel we're staying at. You don't need to worry about money while you're here. I promise."

"Why-why would you do that?"

"It's the least I could do for what happened. You saved my life, Y/N."

"I just did what anyone would have done."

He shook his head, "not many people would've done that."

You opened your mouth to argue but knew a losing fight when you saw one, so you simply closed your mouth again and nodded in response.

"I'll let you get some rest. Someone will be by tomorrow morning when you get discharged, okay?" He explained gingerly getting to his feet before he began walking towards the door.

"Nikki?" You called out.

He stopped and glanced over his shoulder, "yeah?"

"Thank you."

"I should be thanking you." He smiled. "Get some rest, sweetheart."

Not long after Nikki left, a couple Police Officers showed up needing to take your statement about the events that took place during the concert. It didn't take long to tell your side of the story and they reassured you that the man would be behind bars for a long time. That was a silent relief, not that you were worried for your own safety but for Nikki's. That crazy man had been aiming for Nikki. Why he wanted to hurt the bassist was a question that kept you up at night, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nikki was safe and the man couldn’t hurt anyone else.

When you woke up the following morning it wasn’t to the sound of machines beeping, it was to the sound of a guitar.

You blinked your eyes open in confusion to find John 5 sitting beside your bed with an acoustic guitar in his lap. He was strumming away on the guitar softly while a familiar looking woman sat in the other chair beside him scrolling on her phone.

A small smile spread across your face at the sight of John 5 and his wife, Rita, before you heard something move across the room and you quickly turned your head and your eyes widened when you saw Brittany Furlan Lee looking out the window of your room.

You sat there silently for a few minutes looking between the three of them as your head swarmed with a million questions. The biggest question you had was why were they all here? Why would they care about you?

You were no one. You were a nobody to them. Just a strange girl who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time... depends how you looked at it. But still, you were nobody, so why would they all be here?

"You might not realise it, but more people care about you than you think, Y/N." John 5's voice suddenly said.

You quickly turned towards him to find the guitarist looking at you with a gentle smile.

"But... why?" You asked in utter confusion. "I'm no one."

John chuckled softly and leant his guitar up against the wall before turning in his seat to face you.

"You saved Nikki. Which means you saved Mötley Crüe. You aren't no one."

"He's right." Rita spoke up, putting her phone down as she leant forward and smiled kindly at you. "My name is-."

"Rita Lowery. I know who you are." You replied causing the woman’s smile to brighten.

"How are you feeling, babe?"

You glanced to the side to find Brittany no longer looking out the window as she walked over to your bedside looking down to where your hand was pressed against your stomach with a concerned look in her eye.

"Like I've been stabbed." You answered bluntly without thinking but before you could say anything else Brittany started to laugh.

"Probably should have guessed that, huh?" She replied with a smile. "I'm Tommy's wife by the way. Brittany-"

"Furlan Lee, I know. You're awesome."

She was one of your favourite comedians and her podcast This Is The Worst had you crying from laughter during each episode. Brittany was so chaotic and had such a beautiful energy about her. Tommy was just as energetic and hyper too. They matched each other's vibes so well. They were perfect for each other.

"I like this girl." Brittany announced glancing over at John and Rita who both chuckled.

"I'll go see if the nurse is ready with those discharge papers." John said, picking up his guitar before walking out the room leaving you alone with quite possibly two of the most gorgeous women in America.

Lita pulled out a familiar looking bag from beside her chair and your eyes widened realising that it was your duffle bag from the hotel. How the heck did they get that?

"Nikki collected this from your hotel." She explained like she knew what you were thinking. "We figured you would probably want something clean to wear instead of those scrubs or your bloodied Mötley shirt."

That was really thoughtful. You hadn't even thought about that. You hadn't really thought about a lot since waking up in the hospital other than the fact that you had been stabbed on stage in front of thousands of people.

"Thank you so much." You said sincerely as you sat up and swung your legs over the side of the bed grimacing at the pull of the stitches before you stood up but nearly fell right back down onto the bed again.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. Are you okay?" Brittany asked, grabbing your shoulder to steady you as you rested your hand over the bandage under your scrubs with a pained hiss. "Do you want to sit back down?"

You shook your head. Rita was on her feet hovering by your side like she was worried you'd fall over which, yeah, okay, that was highly likely because black dots were dancing across your vision as you blinked your eyes trying to clear them.

"I'm good. I'm good." You reassured but the two women clearly didn't believe you as they gave you a doubtful look.

Brittany and Rita assisted you changing out of the hospital scrubs despite your embarrassment of not being able to do it yourself, but the women didn't make you feel bad or ashamed for it. They simply helped you and gave you gentle encouraging words when you saw how big the stab wound actually was and how long the scar was going to be.

John drove the three of you back to the hotel across the city and the girls helped you get settled ensuring you were comfortable and exchanging phone numbers for you to contact them if you needed anything. Brittany and Tommy had the room a few doors down while John and Rita were on the floor below. They weren't sure where Nikki or Vince were but knew they had rooms in this hotel somewhere.

Mötley Crüe were set to fly out tomorrow for their next concert but apparently Nikki had postponed it a few days to allow his ankle enough time to recover. Less than a week definitely wasn't enough time for a sprained ankle to heal especially since he would be on his feet for hours on stage at a time, but Nikki was a workaholic and never missed a show.

Everyone left you alone for the rest of the day. Brittany and Rita kept texting you though making sure you were okay and taking your pain meds every few hours. John even messaged you, no doubt getting your number from his wife and offered to drop off some food. He was a vegan and wanted Subway, but said he was happy to buy anything with meat if you felt like it, but you kindly declined.

You slept like a rock that night but awoke the following morning to a muffled voice coming from outside your hotel room door.

"Her heart stopped in the fucking ambulance, man!"

That was Nikki's voice. And he was talking about you.

"I know, I know. But... fuck, T-Bone, that would've been me if she hadn't pushed me out the way. And-" Nikki stopped talking abruptly but you couldn’t hear what Tommy was saying in response.

You slowly sat up in bed and took a couple of the pain meds with a mouthful of water. Brittany had sent you a text but before you could open it, Nikki continued talking.

"How do I not feel guilty? It should have been me! She's just a kid."

Nikki felt guilty for what happened. Why would he feel guilty? He wasn't the one who stabbed you. It wasn't his fault in the slightest.

Putting your phone down, you stood up gingerly and walked over to your front door and pulled it open. The bassist was pacing up and down the long corridor of the hotel with his phone to his ear listening to whatever his best friend was saying through the line.

"I'm not a kid." You spoke up announcing your presence as you leant against the doorframe.

Nikki spun around so quickly you feared he may have given himself whiplash as he stared at you in surprise.

"Tommy, I'll call you back." Nikki said not waiting for a reply before he lowered the phone from his ear. "You shouldn't be up."

"I got sick of laying down."

Nikki shook his head, rubbing his beard along his jaw. He looked angry. It wasn't a good look on him and it made you feel uneasy.

"Are you angry with me?" You asked your voice coming out a mere whisper as you bit your lip hating how fragile you felt right now as tears burned in the back of your eyes.

The thought of Nikki Sixx possibly hating you made you want to cry. You had loved and idolised him for so long, you couldn’t bear the thought of him hating you.

Nikki turned back towards you. The anger in his features vanished instantly when he saw the tears that were no doubt showing in your eyes. You ducked your head and quickly wiped them not wanting Nikki to see but it was too late. The bassist was across the corridor and in front of you in an instant.

"No. No. I'm not angry at you." He hurriedly reassured. "It's just... you shouldn't have done that. You shouldn't have put yourself in harm’s way."

"I'm okay though. The doctors said I'll be fine-"

"No. No. You could have been killed. And there would have been nothing I could do to stop it. I watched you bleed out in my arms, Y/N." His voice broke and Nikki looked away. "That guy was after me, but it was you that got hurt. You could have died!"

His voice was heavy with shame, the same way his guilt weighed down upon his shoulders.

"Better me than you." You simply replied.

Nikki looked back over at you in disbelief, "how can you say that?"

"I'm nobody. I... I have no one. I literally have nothing to live for if I'm being brutally honest-" You began to ramble before he tried to cut you off.

"Y/N-"

"And you're Nikki fucking Sixx." You continued to say ignoring him. "The whole world would be heartbroken if you died. The band would be destroyed. Your fans, your family, your kids. Me! You have so much more to live for."

Nikki sighed lowering his head, but he didn't say anything for a moment as you remained silent leaning in the doorway unsure of what to do or say next. It was all true though. You had nobody. You had nothing to lose but Nikki had everything to lose.

"I'm not going to apologise for saving your life, Nikki."

The bassist lifted his head. His guilty green eyes meeting yours.

"You're an idiot for saving me, sweetheart." He whispered shaking his head.

"Maybe. But I'd do it again." You answered and you meant it. "It's not your fault. I made my own choice and I'd do it again. Well, I might not pull the knife out next time though."

The side of Nikki's mouth twitched up in a slight smile at your words.

"That's like the number one rule of getting stabbed. You don't pull it out."

"I panicked. It's not like I've been stabbed before!" You said defensively causing Nikki to chuckle softly which you were going to call a small victory.

Somehow you ended up at the airport following the band out onto the tarmac towards their private jet-black plane. Nikki had somehow convinced the pilot to detour to your hometown on their way to the next gig. It was going to cost a lot in fuel which you felt guilty for, but Nikki had insisted that it wasn't a big deal.

Brittany and Rita were walking either side of you while the guys all strolled ahead towards the plane. The two women had taken you under their wing over the past few days without hesitation. They were both so kind and down to earth. They made you feel welcome in Mötley Crüe's little group despite the fact you were a stranger to them all. They were both walking slower alongside of you on purpose, not wanting you to strain yourself or tear any stitches which you silently appreciated.

Nikki stood to the side allowing his bandmates to walk up the stairs into the plane first before he held his hand out towards you. It wasn't that you couldn't climb up stairs yourself. Your body had gotten significantly stronger since departing the hospital, but you still accepted his assistance because although you weren't as weak, the stab wound was still painful.

Nikki's hand squeezed yours gently as he helped you up the stairs before you walked into their private plane, but you came to a sudden halt when you saw the interior of it. Private planes were meant to be fancy with leather reclining seats and tables, you knew that, but were still shocked by how nice it was on the inside.

As your eyes raked over the expensive plane you spotted a group of men seated further down and your jaw literally dropped when you realised who they were.

Def Leppard.

Nobody had told you that Mötley Crüe and Def Leppard shared a private plane for this tour.

The band all glanced in your direction hearing Mötley finally board the plane. They all waved in greeting before the tall man with shoulder length silver white hair stood up and began walking down the aisle towards you.

"Holy shit, you're Joe Elliot." You mumbled under your breath but clearly you had said it a bit too loudly because Nikki snickered softly from beside you, his hand still holding yours.

Joe smiled, "that I am, love. And you're the girl who got the concert cancelled before Def Leppard could even get on stage."

Guilt washed over you, "I'm so sorry-"

"No, no, I'm taking the piss. I'm joking. You saved Nikki's life." Joe hurriedly explained nodding towards the bassist while looking at you with a kind smile. "I'm glad you're okay."

"You are okay though, right? Brittany said you were in pain and-" Tommy's voice suddenly said as he appeared beside you.

You smiled at the drummer's kindness, "I'm okay."

Relief flashed across the taller man's face before Brittany patted your shoulder gently.

"She's tough this one." Brittany said smiling at you. "I have to get you on my podcast. This Is The Worst. Something tells me you have a worst concert story to share."

The guys all laughed, and you grinned.

"Honestly? I still enjoyed the concert." You admitted causing both Mötley Crüe and Def Leppard to stare at you like you were crazy. "What? I'm an 80s rock fan. That concert was like a dream come true... until the whole stabbing thing."

"Jesus." Nikki swore softly under his breath, his hand squeezing yours. "You're something else, Y/N."

Everyone took their respective seats on the plane, and it wasn't long before you were soaring through the sky. The hostesses came around with trays of food and assortment of drinks. Nikki accepted a water not even tempted by the alcohol which you were silently proud of, and you did the same since antibiotics and champagne probably wouldn't be a good mix.

It was nice sitting beside the bassist while listening to Mötley Crüe and Def Leppard talk and laugh together throughout the plane. Their banter was quite entertaining, and it was nice to know that these two bands got along and enjoyed each other's company.

Nikki had his bad ankle resting on top of the coffee table trying to keep it elevated as per doctor's orders. It was no longer bandaged but even hidden beneath a sock, it was still visibly swollen. Nikki must have seen you staring at it because he suddenly reached over and grabbed your arm.

"It's not bad." He whispered ignoring the others all talking and laughing throughout the plane and instead focused on you. "Hey, look at me."

Reluctantly you shifted your gaze from his ankle before meeting those beautiful green eyes.

"My ankle is fine. It's you I'm worried about."

You tilted your head a little in confusion, "why? I'm fine."

Nikki gave you a pointed look that said he saw straight through your lie, and you averted your gaze fiddling with a loose thread on your jeans.

Soon you would be back home, and this would be over. You'd be alone in your shitty apartment and going back to your dead-end job. Life would go back to normal, but you didn't want it to. You didn't want to leave Mötley Crüe. You didn't want this moment to end because right now, you were on a plane surrounded by men and women who genuinely cared about you and back home, there was no one. Nikki seemed to know that too as his green eyes watched you sadly.

Sooner than what you would have liked, the plane was touching down in your hometown. The Def Leppard guys all hugged you goodbye wishing you the best before you followed Nikki off the plane surprised to find Vince, Tommy, John, Brittany and Rita all following too.

The pilot was already pulling your bag out from the cargo hold before Vince grabbed it from him. The pilot warned that they'd be taking off in 20 minutes after a quick refuel before he climbed back up into the plane leaving the group of you standing on the tarmac.

"It was so lovely to meet you, Y/N." Rita said, holding her arms out before pulling you into a hug.

"Take care of yourself, okay?" John suddenly said, joining the hug as he wrapped his arms around the two of you.

You smiled hugging them both back before pulling away just as Brittany threw her arms around your neck and hugged you tightly.

"Thank you for everything." You whispered hugging the other woman back.

Brittany chuckled softly before grabbing your shoulders and holding you in front of her. "No, thank you! And I'm serious about you guest starring on my podcast by the way. If you want to that is?"

Your eyes lit up, "I would be honoured."

Tommy strolled over throwing his arm around his wife’s shoulder as Brittany leant into his side, the two of them smiling at you.

"How does it feel to be Mötley Crüe's hero?" The drummer asked.

Mötley Crüe's hero? Yeah, right. Mötley Crüe were your hero. It wasn’t the other way around. Mötley Crüe had saved your life. You were simply returning the favour.

"Mötley Crüe were my hero first." You answered causing the smile on Tommys face to widen before he lowered his arm from Brittany and threw it around your shoulder instead as he pulled you into a side hug.

Tommy was surprisingly gentle for his big lanky frame as you wrapped your arm around him and hugged him back.

"Thank you for saving that assholes life." Vince suddenly said nodding in Nikkis direction causing the bassist to roll his eyes. "Look after yourself, kid."

You fought the urge to tell him that you weren't a kid but decided against it. You simply nodded in response slipping free from Tommys arm before Vince stepped forward and hugged you as well.

"Thank you for what you did on stage. I'm sorry for ruining your scarf." You replied hugging the singer.

Vince let out a small huff as he smiled, "scarfs can be replaced. You can't. Thanks for not dying."

The two of you pulled apart as Nikki grabbed your duffle bag from where Vince had placed it on the ground.

"I'll walk you out." The bassist suddenly said.

You opened your mouth to argue not wanting him to walk too much on his bad ankle but knew that arguing with the bassist was a waste of time. So, you simply nodded before turning back to the others.

"Thank you guys for everything." You said feeling tears beginning to rise in your eyes, but you forced them back.

There was no way you were going to cry in front of them. No way.

You gave them all a friendly wave before glancing up at the plane to find the Def Leppard guys all waving through the windows of the plane causing you to chuckle as you waved at them too before Nikki took your hand and began to lead you across the tarmac.

Nikki didn't say anything as the two of you walked towards the pickup/drop off area of the airport. His hand held yours tightly while he threw your duffle bag over his shoulder with the other. He wasn't limping as badly anymore, but his ankle was still clearly giving him pain, although he didn’t comment on it.

The bassist hollered a taxi waiting for the yellow vehicle to pull up before he placed your bag in the trunk and then turned to face you and spoke for the first time since leaving the plane.

"What's your phone number?"

Your eyes widened, "what?"

He snorted, "relax, I'm not gonna ask you out. I'm married. Although if I wasn't..." He trailed off with a gentle smile as he lifted his hand and cupped the side of your face. "You're beautiful and no one has ever done something as heroic or as stupid for me. So, thank you, Y/N."

His words had you utterly speechless as you stared at the man you had idolised since you were a kid. The same man you had on posters stuck on your bedroom wall. The same man who had saved your life and helped you at your lowest without even knowing it.

"Put your number in here." He instructed passing you his phone.

He had named your contact 'Y/N aka my idiotic hero' you smiled at the name before typing in your number and handing it back to him.

"Mötley are going to be touring again in 2025. We got a few small shows at festivals next year but 2025 will be big. I'm going to make sure we play a gig here in your hometown and I want you to come... only if you want to though. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to go after what just happened-"

"I wouldn't miss it." You answered cutting him off.

Nikki smiled, "well it's settled. I'll get you a backstage pass and everything to make up for only seeing half a concert."

The cab driver suddenly honked the horn, "you getting in or what?!"

Nikki sighed before reaching forward and wrapping his arms around your body pulling you into his chest as he hugged you. Tears started to burn in the back of your eyes once again at the realisation that this was it. But you were quick to hug him back just as tightly, the stitches on your stomach be damned.

"Thank you for saving my life. I still think you're an idiot for doing it though." Nikki said before placing a gentle kiss to your forehead as he pulled away.

You smiled, "I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

Nikki snorted, "please don't."

"Can't make any promises." You teased causing Nikki to laugh before you glanced at the annoyed looking taxi driver. "I should probably go. Thank you for everything, Nikki."

"Here." The bassist slipped you $200 in cash. "Pay for the taxi with this."

You looked down at the money in your hand in shock, "Nikki, this is way too much."

"Buy yourself something pretty with the change then." He winked causing you to roll your eyes before he opened the car door for you. "Get home safe, sweetheart."

You nodded forcing your tears at bay hating having to say goodbye to him. You climbed into the back of the taxi and Nikki gently closed the door behind you. He gave you a small reassuring smile and you mustered up the courage to smile back despite wanting nothing more than to cry as you waved goodbye just as the taxi began to drive off.

Once the taxi got a few hundred metres down the road and the bassist was no longer in eyeshot, the tears began to spill down your cheeks like a waterfall. This time, you didn't try to stop them as you covered your face with your hands and silently cried.

A few minutes later your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out and found a text message from a random number.

'Forgot to send this earlier. You have my number now, so please don't hesitate to call or text me. Oh and it's Nikki Sixx by the way. Thank you again for everything xx'

You let out a wet chuckle, tears still trickling down your face as you smiled at Nikki's message.

*6 months later*

You sat behind your desk at work eyeing the time at the bottom corner of the screen wishing it would tick by faster when suddenly your phone buzzed.

'1 New Message from: Nikki Sixx'

You smiled at the notification that had become quite common since you parted ways. Nikki was the first to message you because there was no way in hell you were going to text him first. You didn't want to annoy him and figured he probably wouldn't want to talk to you. But he had asked how you were, and you asked about his ankle. From there the messaging became frequent and ranged from simple day to day chitchat to random photos of his dog. It was nice though and dare you say it, you were friends.

It had taken a while for you to get used to that. Nikki had been your idol for so long and he was now someone you considered a friend. Hell, even the rest of the guys from Mötley Crüe had your number too and would text you from time to time.

You opened Nikki's latest message, and all it said were two words; 'Check Twitter'

Frowning in confusion you opened up the app before searching Nikki's profile to find that he just posted something two minutes ago.

You dropped your phone on your desk staring at the excel spreadsheet on the computer screen in front of you as you covered your mouth with your hands trying to contain your excitement.

Holy shit. He wrote a song about you.

Part 3

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