#rio x black!oc

[marleyybluu]

Oh sista you ate baaaaad with Don Julio even tho we all know none of us needed liquor help when it comes to that man, I am wide open sober papacito ya tú sabes 🥵🤤

Don Julio 2

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 3.5k

Content Warning: 18+, smut under your fingernails, p in v, creampie (bcus I have a serious problem atp), two dummies who think no one notices they’re into each other, a bit of flirting, oral (f receiving), we are in missionary today, Rio wears rings 🙃 :)

Lmk if I’m missing any idk I probably am

A/N: surprise, the Rio girlies get fed even though I don’t like this, some parts suck in my opinion but I hate everything I write so what’s new. Not proofread sorry

Suddenly she was so... aware of him, of every molecule and particle that created his form.  Now, she notices his hands and the copious amount of rings he wore, how large and wide his palms were and how slender and long his fingers suddenly seemed. She took a swig from her can of Twisted Tea as she sat around one of the tables in their family's backyard. She didn't want to be here, it was too weird for her, but it was his birthday party. She'd been to all of his parties since they were kids and she figured the lack of her presence would be obvious.

She kept her distance though, only saying 'Happy birthday' and 'Here's your gift' when she arrived about two hours ago and hadn't said anything else to him since. But she couldn't keep her eyes off of him, the fantasies of what could've possibly happened that night haunt he in a pleasant way, but she just adored him from afar. Paying extra attention to whom he was talking to.

Vera.

She's a beautiful woman, Honey could give her that, she is probably the same age as him too. She'd been around the neighbourhood long ago but moved and would once in a while return home to visit. She raised her eyebrows, her eyes narrow as she attempted to read Vera's lips to know what they were discussing but she couldn't make out anything, this weird pang in her chest— possibly a smidge of jealousy, was an unnecessary and stupid feeling. She sighs and shifts her eyes to Cherry who had seemingly been watching her the whole time. Honey smiles innocently as if she hadn't just been ogling her brother for ten minutes. Cherry nods to the house, letting Honey know to meet her inside.

Honey excused herself from the table and waltzed her way in through the back door that led straight into their big kitchen, a few family members-- mostly men, were inside the living room watching football. Cherry cleared her throat, her way of announcing she was in the room. Honey spun on her heels and beamed. "What's up?"

"Nothing, I just need help bringing some more drinks out."

She shrugs and they both head down to the basement and to the wall where various boxes of liquor, both strong and light, were propped up. She reaches for the Corona's and the Smirnoff's able to hold one of each. "Can you believe Vera's here? I swear that woman gets prettier with age." Cherry states and there's that kink in her chest again. Honey nods, afraid that if she mutters anything she'll give away the jealousy but her friend continues with; "I wonder if they've been hooking up." She reaches for more Twisted Teas and two boxes of White Claw's mostly for her consumption. Honey swallows and looks at her shoes. "What makes you think that?"

She smirks. "I went into his room, just to steal one of his sweaters, and I saw something pink under his bed,"

Oh god.

"I didn't touch it but I'm assuming they were some panties."

One of the boxes slipped from Honey's hands and crashed to the floor, it popped open and all the cans of Twisted Tea rolled in their own directions. Cherry chuckled. "Are you good?"

"Yeah... yeah, I just— sorry." She stammered, she squats down to pick up those that fell in front of her while her friend grabbed the scattered ones. "Here, take this box and I'll hold some of the cans." She says and they switch. Honey feels like she can't even look her friend in the eye, her cheeks feeling warm and if she was any lighter she'd be as red as a stoplight. They head back upstairs where they meet the birthday boy in the kitchen with his head in the fridge. "What do you want now?" Cherry asks with fake annoyance. He pops up and straightens his posture just like he did when he was younger getting caught doing something bad. "Came lookin' for some more drinks." He says pointing to the boxes, his eyes locked with Honey's and she swore she lost her balance for a split second.

Her face only getting hotter, he was a continuous reminder of that Sunday morning. Cherry raised her eyebrows as her eyes played ping-pong between the two, the silence was awkward and making her uncomfortable. She'd never seen the two be this strange. She dropped the cans and the box of drinks onto the counter, hard enough that the sound would snap the two out of whatever unearthly trance this was. Honey and Rio broke their staring contest, eyes bouncing off in different directions. He helped the two put the drinks in the cooler, he had a spliff tucked behind his ear, and he took it down offering it to his sister. She dismisses him and says she has to find their father, so she leaves the two alone, Rio puts the spliff between his lips and cups the free end with his hand, with his other hand he flicks the lighter and the small flame transfers over to the paper, burning it along with the kush.

Honey just watches him from the corner of her eye when he looks up she darts her eyes forward and begins to sway from side to side. He looks over at her. "Still don't smoke?"

"I do," She lied. "Occasionally." She didn't know why she fibbed, she just did. He chuckles calling her bluff and in some strange urge to prove to her friends older that she is mature enough to smoke, she takes it from him and inhales, she holds it and chokes once before coughing embarrassingly loud. He chuckles and takes the spliff from her, he pats her back but it is no help as she continuously coughs. Now it's becoming concerning. He puts the (still) lit spliff behind his ear and ushers her back inside in hopes of getting her some water.

"I-I'm fine, I sw- cough- I swear."

"Yeah fucking right, mama." He coos grabbing her a bottle from the fridge making sure he opens it for her before handing it to her. Honey tips her head back as she downs the bottle in desperate relief. She comes up for air and sighs with contentment. "Better?" He asks.

"Mhm." She nods and suddenly realizes they're both alone. In the house. In the kitchen. Honey clears her throat and opens her palm, a silent way of asking for the cap. He hands it to her and their fingers brush for a moment, she savours it, a shot of electricity running through her veins. He finds himself blushing and quickly retracts his hand, though he'd give anything to touch her soft skin again. "Thanks." She mutters. "Yeah."

There's that awkward silence and neither of them knows what to do. "Your fault anyway." She says under her breath with quick wit. "You're the one who knows you don't smoke. Why take it?"

"Why offer it to me?" She giggles, he takes it from behind his ear again and inhales as he lets her question sit in the air. He shrugs and blows the thin smoke away from her face. "Didn't think you'd take it."

Honey rolls her eyes. "You've always been like that." He responds. "Like what?" She asks. He shrugs and takes another drag. "What?" She repeats and he continues to serve her with silence. "Well, you've always been an asshole." Honey spits back, now it's his turn to roll his eyes. "Always been like that." She says mocking his words from earlier. They look at each other as the awkward silence becomes less so, it bleeds into a comfortable feeling with each other. Rio's eye quickly falls to her lips and back up to her and she catches it. She witnesses his want for her, dare she say it's a need. And between the head buzz of both kush and liquor his mask was faltering, the longer she stared the softer his features became for her.

"I need you to kiss me..." She whispers and trails off, the statement taking the both of them by surprise, he'd ask for reassurance but the slight desperation in her voice and the positiveness in her face were more than enough. Rio doesn't hesitate. He kisses her like his life depends on it and maybe it did. His hands cup her cheeks drawing her closer to him. Their bodies pressed against each other and the kiss quickly rose from slow and sweet to hot and steamy. She slides her hands under his shirt, her fingers dance along the warm skin of his smooth back. He licks her bottom lip as a response and she gladly invites him in. Honey feels herself stumbling back as their tongues fight in the name of lust, she finally hits the counter and is hoisted on top of it.

"Wait..." She mumbled but it fell on deaf ears as his lips met hers again, she moaned into the kiss and gently pushed him back. "Someone's gonna see us." She laughs breathlessly. It was a miracle no one did already. He wraps her legs around him and lifts her off the counter. "You sure about this?"

She nods and he carries her up the stairs while making sure the coast is clear. He takes her to his bedroom, the place where it all started, and closes the door and locks it. "How long do you think it'll be before anyone notices you gone?"

"Who would notice?"

She playfully flicks him against his temple. "You are the birthday boy remember?"

"Worry about it later." He huffed and before she could get another word out he shut her up with another kiss. His hands shift her dress up around her hips, the cold air of his room creates prickles against her mahogany skin. He rests her down on the bed, her back contacting the very soft comforter and the memorable mattress. The best damn sleep she ever had was on that thing. His lips travel to her jawline and along the side of her neck. She turns her head giving him more access to her sweet spot he so seemingly remembers.

Her toes curl at the teasing, the anticipation, for once she wanted to skip foreplay and just go straight to it. Her eyes flutter as he sucks on her supple skin in hopes he'd leave a mark, another thing to spark her memory of him. Honey softly moans when his fingertips play with the strings of her thong, pulling them down and exposing her wet and needy pussy. She gasps at the friction from the band of his boxers rubbing against her swelling clit. Her eyes wander the room and land on his doorknob, she squints and giggles. "What?"

"Are... are those my panties hanging from your door?" She snorts. He quickly turns his head and blushes. "Maybe."

"You want these too?"

"Don't tempt me." He says before attaching his lips to her neck once again. She lightly scratches at his back. and whines as her aching hole clenches around nothing. He finally undoes his jeans, and the sound of his belt hitting the floor only adds to the tension, she almost whimpers when his shirt is next to go and his body is on display for her and her only. Rio's hands waste no time caressing the back of her legs as he pushes them back, his eyes so fixated on her swollen sex, he places his thumb on top of her clit and rubs slow circles on her sensitive nub. She sighs with pleasure as her eyes close, his thumb soon trails down her slit collecting her slick.

His middle and ring fingers follow the same path before they find their way inside her. "Oh." Honey mewled as they planted themselves deeper, her eyes slowly rolled to the back of her skull when he started playing with her pussy. He pushed his fingers in and took them out at a languid pace. The sounds of her wet pussy squelching with every pump of his fingers erupted through the room, bouncing into his ears and running straight to his dick as if it couldn't get any harder. He had to make this quick before anyone got suspicious.

"I promise mama, next time I'll take real good care of you." Rio coos in her ear before pulling away and ridding himself of his pants and boxers.

Honey softly whines and clenches at the promise of a next time. She watched his painfully hard dick spring out and hit his lower abdomen with a hard this. Her eyes slightly widened as if was her first time seeing him. Wondering how she took all that. "You scared now?"

Honey sat up on her elbows and shook her head, she looked up at him through her fresh set of lashes. She slowly spreads her legs wider. His eyes fall between them and his tongue swipes his bottom lip. "Next time..." He softly repeats to himself as a reminder. "Next time..." He pulls her to the end of the bed and drops to his knees in front of her, he can't wait until next time. He just needed a little taste.

His head disappears between her thighs and she's greeted with the warmth of his tongue between her swollen lips she glitches at the contact but soon relaxes when a kiss is pressed against her clit before it was followed up with his tongue once more. Her eyelids fluttered. He was practically making out with her pussy, wet and sloppy sounds made themselves known-- thank goodness the music could drown them out. Gasps and whines leave her lips, her toes curl, her body rendering her powerless against his regime, especially when his thumb starts to tease her hole with small circles.

His hands ran over the back of her thighs and hooked in the space provided behind her knees. She's writhing under his touch, her hands gripping onto his sheets for dear life. "Oooooh, yeeeesss." She slurs lost in her pleasure.

Rio smiles at her continuous babbling, half the words he could barely make out himself. Honey's moans were going straight to his dick making him harder than ever it was almost painful. He, unwillingly, pulls away and she lets out a frustrated sigh. He smacks her thigh and shakes his head. "You're getting what you want, mama, relax. Yeah?"

He gives her no time to respond before he guides himself inside her heat, she's beyond wet and sticky, he knew he wouldn't last. Her back arches with every inch he puts inside her, she cries out as her hand quickly flies to his lower abdomen. "Fuck, wait..." She protests, swearing she can't take anymore.

"Honey, if you don't move that hand." His tone let her know it was a warning, she whines as she takes her hand back. Her jaw slacks so much it touches her chest, he's in and he's in deep. He retracts only a little bit before going in for more. He drives his hips into hers at a tantalizing rhythm. Honey's head falls onto the soft mattress, she lays there and all she can do is take what he's giving to her like a good girl.

A string of poetic and vulgar moans leave her system, telling him how big he is, how deep he is and how good he's making her feel. He can only respond with his grunts and praises, leaning over to bury his head in the crook of her neck, whispering some of the filthiest things she'd ever heard. "That pussy is soaking for me, huh? Guess it wasn't the Don Julio, after all, you fucking like this?"

All she can do is nod, the air from her lungs has been knocked out. The bed is rocking, creaking to the beat of his strokes, the small fear of being caught or heard had dissipated and her sole focus was on the man on top of her. "Yes, yes, yes!"

Her nails dig into his flesh while his teeth graze over her neck, his tongue gracing the same area. Rio pounded into her until he felt her tighten around him, he looked at her to catch her love faces. The way her jaw drops and her eyes roll to the back of her head, her eyelids fluttering from the intense pleasure and the euphoric feeling. And he just keeps going. Dragging it out, making sure she lets out everything. All of it. But she can't take it anymore, it feels good but she's so sensitive from the explosive orgasm, that her hand goes back to his lower abdomen.

And Honey gasps out of shock when her hands are suddenly pinned to the bed and above her head. "I told you to move your fucking hand didn't I?"

"Fuck! Baby, I can't take it." She pleads. "But you took it so well last time mama. I remember it."

Her eyes gloss over. "Telling me you don't remember? The way you kept asking me, begging me for more. For me to go deeper, for me to fill you up all the way."

She nods lazily, though she can barely tell what she's agreeing with. "Yeah? So, you can take it. Look how well you're doing right now."

Rio mumbles into her neck, he lets go of her hands and they immediately hug around his neck. "There she is." Her heels dig into his lower back, she wanted it deeper if it was possible. "Fuck me, please." She whines and it's barely a whisper. He pushes himself deep and stills his hips. "You asked so nicely darlin'." He rasps.

She's pinned between his body and the mattress, she could feel a devilish smirk against her skin before he isolates his hips— rotating them sloooowly. He's losing it too, just trying to keep his cool but he was at his tipping point. His tip nudging against her g-spot and her lush walls contracting around him. "You wanna cum baby?" She whispers and now it's his turn to nod as he loses his words. "You can cum inside me." She purrs feeling another orgasm pulling through. Rio plunged into her, she's coating him with her sticky pleasure. He stills once more and soon he's pouring everything into her, she giggles lazily. "Mmm, so warm."

He chuckled and shook his head planting a passionate kiss on her cheek. And they lay like that for a while, vibing in their post-coital glow— sweaty, hot and satisfied.

But as time passes they realize they have to go back before anyone truly notices anything. He cleans her up and himself and then begins to get dressed, in silence, which feels awkward. Neither of them knew what to say.

After they get dressed, Rio sneaks out first just in case anyone is inside the house— especially on the lookout for his sister but when he confirms the coast is clear he knocks on the door twice to let Honey know they are fine. The small action causes her to smile to herself. "I have to fix my hair." She softly says and hears a muffled, "Take your time, baby."

Her heart leaps and the little girl inside her begins to glow which causes her cheeks to heat up and if she were any lighter she'd look like a tomato.

After making sure she looked decent she creeps out of his room and closes the door quietly, but as she heads to the top of the steps she hears, "Honey?"

You've got to be kidding.

She quickly spins on her heels and smiles, seeing Cherry in the door frame of the bathroom, she reaches to turn off the light and crosses her arms right after.

"Hi, Cherry."

Her friend's eyes dart between her and the bedroom door. "What are you doing in Rio's room?"

Honey's throat had suddenly run dry and her brain had flushed all the excuses in the world. She had nothing to say. What could she say? It wouldn't be believable regardless. Her mouth opened with the incentive to speak but nothing but croaks of awkwardness.

"Are you-"

"Honey!" A sudden call comes from downstairs. It's Rio looking up at them from the first floor. "Have you seen- oh there she is. Honey and I were looking for you. Bring your big heads downstairs I'm cutting the cake."

She could feel a bead of sweat forming at her hairline. "I'm getting the second slice!" Honey childishly announces bolting down the stairs. "No! I am!" Cherry follows suit and they both bolt down the stairs. Honey slows down allowing her friend to pass her. She squeezes his arm as a silent thank you and he nods at her.

Everyone is outside and gathered around the table waiting for the three of them to arrive. Cherry and Honey stand with the birthday boy as their mom lights the candles.

"One... two... three."

They begin to sing, and while everyone is looking at him he can only pay attention to one person. Honey. She giggles and puts her head down trying to hide her ginormous smile. Everyone else was too busy singing to notice, but Cherry... oh Cherry noticed. Something was going on and she needed to find out.

Now.

🏷️: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover @librarian1002

Might be interested: @bigenergy777 @educatorsareslutstoo

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#marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #rio good girls #smut #minors dni #rio x black!oc #rio x black!character #Rio x fem!OC

[cloveroctobers]

OCTOBER PROMPTS 🦇 — 5. RIO

A/N: had a dream about my man the other night so I guess that was his way of telling me that he misses me? We love delulu!!! Anyways thought this would be fun to actually write something on the line of thriller/spooky this time around. This is me making up for not writing part two’s to my other fall inspired prompt on this man way back when. Hope y’all enjoy this 🧡🫶🏽!!!

PROMPT is from HERE + I’m using: A Begs B to come explore an old house that they believe is haunted. B is hesitant, especially after hearing the scary tales A knows so much about.

*GIF + PHOTO DO NOT BELONG TO ME!

WARNINGS: some France slander, language & hints of sexual content.

<- read my previous October anthology prompt here.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Being in France for the month of October initially wasn’t the plan.

Khadijah and Rio ventured out here for a couple days for Khadijah’s birthday and for Rio to tie up some loose ends for business. What was supposed to be a four day trip turned into a much longer adventure.

“I know y’all done heard they got bed bugs out there, why are your asses staying out there longer?” Khadijah’s mother blurted into the FaceTime call.

Rio chuckled to himself by the mini bar, fixing himself something brown before entering the main living room part of the suite.

“Mom,” Khadijah hissed as she flicked through the channels, “this was a unexpected extended birthday trip.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” The older woman said not entirely believing that, “Don’t think you can get cute on us and decide not to come back.”

“I’m already cute,” Khadijah modeled with extra shoulder as she sat on the tan couch while her mother brings the camera to show that she’s rolling her eyes.

“Well where do you think you get it from?”

“My father.”

“More like you got his smart mouth.” Khadijah’s mom comments, making her child hold up her finger to interject.

Now she loved her mom dearly but it was no secret that Khadijah was a daddy’s girl and her father’s favorite daughter despite what her two sisters thought. She was one of four children while her youngest sibling happened to be the only boy.

“Aw c’mon, don’t do Mr. Wells like that, especially if he’s not here to defend himself. Where is he anyway? It’s gotta be after 10:30 back home?” Rio came into frame, crouching behind Khadijah, who turned to peck his cheek before facing her phone once more.

The woman sighed, “where else? Working, working, working. I’ve been telling him he needs to slow down, he’s not some twenty year old no more. Lord knows it.”

Mr. Wells had a heart attack last year and had to have a stint put in. Rio’s never seen Khadijah’s so stressed before in his life and although the hardworking man had a good job with good insurance working for the city, they slammed him with some bills that Rio paid off. Which Mr. Wells wouldn’t let slide and already was in the process of paying back.

His choice, not Rio’s.

“He’s close to retirement and he loves supporting his family which is respectable.” Rio starts before joking, “once that happens then the both of you can come with us to Paris next time.”

“Uh uh. I’m never going over there, never had the desire to which is why I want y’all asses to get out of there fast!” Mrs. Wells’ large glasses come into frame now as she holds the phone at not the best angle, “I’d love to see Dubai or St. Lucia with Kayode, your father, and I guess your big headed brother can come too, Deej.”

Khadijah laughs, “yeah and he can bring Eliza too.”

“if I catch him even thinking about it, I’ll click my heels three times and send her bony ass right to hell.”

Laughter bubbles in Khadijah’s throat as she sends a teasing smile to Rio who winked back at his wife, knowing that neither of Khadijah’s parents were fond of their youngest child’s significant other. He was nineteen and found his supposed first love so it was evident that the pair were clingy and so in love with each other. They went to the same high school together, weren’t in the same cliques but ended up at the same community college and decided to give each other a try.

In shorter terms.

“We’ll make it happen,” Rio sighs as he comes around to plop down on the couch next to Khadijah, tossing a hand around the back of the couch, “minus Eliza right?”

“Damn straight,” Mrs. Wells humphed, “she can date somebody else’s son and boss them around for all i care. I just hope it’s over before thanksgiving.”

“Now Mom! Let’s not spread that negative energy for your birthday month, do you need some lavender and Kirk Franklin to keep your blood pressure down?”

The woman with the now bonnet secured around her micro locs fanned her hand, “I already had my session with Mr. Franklin around 7pm so hush! You know that’s what I’m wishing for and hoping you don’t wait around and decide to come back then.”

Khadijah blinks at Rio, who meets her stare. He had no plans of staying here longer than another few days, things got delayed and he offered to send Khadijah back to Detroit if that’s what she wanted but she had some vacation time that she didn’t mind using and she didn’t want to leave Rio behind either.

He’s been busy lately and she just knows as soon as they get back to Detroit, he’ll probably disappear for a little awhile again. So sue the woman if she wanted to be a little selfish and spend more time with her man.

“We’re gonna bring you something much better,” Rio smirks after taking a sip of his liquor, “maybe even a new bundle of joy.”

“WHAT?!” Mrs. Wells yells, “don’t play with me right now. When was your last cycle? I’ve been saying your tatas been looking fuller, ooooh I’ll have to tell your grandmomma.”

“Hey, hey! I’m not pregnant—

“Yet. We’ve been practicing though.” Rio announces, biting down on his bottom lip while Khadijah gasps and shoved at his knee.

Mrs. Wells claps her hands in joy, “y’all keep doing that but don’t bring those bed bugs back with you.”

“We won’t and did our research. If it makes you feel any better, we’re leaving this hotel tonight to stay at this castle for the rest of our trip and then tomorrow we’re gonna go explore this historic house since Rio wanted to have a rest day.” Khadijah informs her mother while Rio slowly nods his head, not knowing of the exploring a house portion but they’d discuss it later.

Mrs. Wells yawns as she sits up in bed now, “sounds fancy but okay then, mom’s tired and ready to knock out. But continue to be safe, the both of you and I’ll see you soon?”

“You sure will, night momma Wells.” Rio gave a two finger salute while Khadijah shared, “I love you’s, talk soon.” Before hanging up the call.

Khadijah leans back against the couch with a sigh, “told you mom’s got serious seperation anxiety all thanks to Kaliyah moving to Toronto with her girlfriend and we’re only traveling!”

“Which is exactly why I tried to smooth over her worries with baby talk, it worked didn’t it?” Rio lifts a thick brow while Khadijah shrugs her shoulders.

Soon she rests her head on Rio’s chest, locking her arms around his waist, “it’ll happen when it’s meant to…and we need to make sure we’re all packed for our new temporary home.”

“Oh I know I am, it’s you you gotta worry about mamas.” Rio presses a kiss to Khadijah’s rosemary scented hair.

Khadijah scoffs, “sorry but I had to buy more for this trip…which I’m not complaining! BUT! Paris’ fashion is really for the petite girlies.”

“They’re forreal missing out on the inclusion and better get on that.” Rio hummed.

“Siobhán is.” Khadijah grins while Rio slowly dips his head at the mention of his old designer friend.

Before Khadijah could get into asking about how she’s been doing, Rio sips from his drink once more and changes the subject, “what’s this about exploring tomorrow?”

“We maybe moving into a castle mansion for a little awhile but there’s no way I’m staying cooped up any longer without seeing what Dordogne has to offer.” Khadijah tells her husband with the perfect pronunciation of the town—or rather department as France calls it.

Rio raises the hand the rests against his wife’s shoulder, “heard you, mamas. No arguing on my part but you know it’s beneficial to have reset days too.”

“Which YouTuber told you that?” Khadijah smirks up at the buzz haired man, figuring that he was probably logged onto her account instead of switching over to his own to watch whatever it is he gets into.

Rio snorts, “don’t try and play me, my aesthetician did.”

“Of course they did.” Khadijah nods believing that since Rio didn’t mess around when it came to his skincare, “and you’re right, there’s nothing wrong with rest days. You’ve been running around x2 compared to me so I get it. You get a nap in and I’ll get the bags ready since we have what? An hour before the service comes and gets us.”

Rio grips Khadijah’s hand as she gets up from the couch, “you sure all an hour is what you need?”

“Shut up, Christopher.” Khadijah laughs, matching Rio’s smile before leaving the man to get his nap on.

With the city life behind the married couple, they settled in Dordogne late last night into the 18th century home. Surprisingly Rio wakes up late the next day, like around eleven am late compared to his seven am timeline. However Khadijah doesn’t mind letting him sleep, snapping a picture of his rest with the camera she brought along for the trip. She watches the clock from time to time, knowing just when to order breakfast to be sent to their room.

Khadijah’s sitting on a olive couch pushed underneath the windows which are half pulled back, sipping on caffe viennese, stomach half full from a classic French breakfast as she stares out into the scenery acting like the main character in a Victorian film.

“Morning, mamas. You starting the day without me?” Rio’s rough morning voice greets the brown skinned woman, who glances over her shoulder at him.

A soft smile meets her full lips, “good morning but someone has to get this party started. But don’t worry, I’ll never not let you in on the thrill. Got you one of these,” she holds the mug up in the air, nodding with her chin on the nightstand next to the man, “and there’s breakfast waiting for you underneath the cloche.”

“Did I mention hearing you speak French is sexy?” Rio states as he slowly sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Khadijah smirks, “plenty when you were tipsy on the late night ride here.”

“I regret nothing,” Rio laughs before turning to reach and sip at the warm coffee, “this is delicious.”

Khadijah pops her tongue, “Yeah it is.”

“What we doin’ today? Hold up, what time is it?” Rio turns his eyes into slits, reaching for his phone to let out a low whistle, “damn, haven’t slept that long—

“Since you got shot?”

Rio let’s out a cough, “whoa, that was dark.”

“Sorry,” Khadijah says, “kinda just slipped out.”

“Something you wanna talk about, Dija?” Rio hums, staring at his wife from their temporary shared bed.

Khadijah shakes her head, “nothing I want to get into on this brand new day, no. So!”

She uncurls her feet from underneath her to stand in her floral print lace trim set, placing a smile on her lips as she plops down on the bed. Taking a quick sip of the coffee again, she places it on her side of the nightstand and reaches inside to pull out two slips of paper.

“Close your eyes.”

“Why?” Rio suspiciously tries to peek at the papers but Khadijah slaps them right on her chest.

“You asked what we’re gonna do.”

“Didn’t you say exploring some house last night?” Rio frowns, trying to remember.

Khadijah’s little smile to herself seems wicked but as soon as it appeared it vanished while she wiggled a bit on the bed, “that’s tonight’s adventure after dinner. We have at least a few hours before then to do something else so…pick one, anyone.”

The two options were: Château des Milandes OR Canoeing on the Brantôme.

Rio doesn’t wipe the frown off his brows but holds out his thumb and pointer finger while Khadijah holds onto the deck of two pieces. The tatted man makes a show of taking his time debating, just to irritate Khadijah for a little until he smiles picking the paper to the left.

And the winner is…

“Great choice! Now get your butt up and let’s shower, they’ve been open since 9 this morning.”

Chateau des Milandes!

Rio hums as he studies the paper, sipping at his coffee then replies, “can I enjoy my breakfast along with the view first?”

Khadijah dramatically sighs as she flops beside Rio, resting on her elbow to stare back at the ajar windows, “oh fine but I promise you, the one outside is much better.”

“personally I like the one right next to me.”

Khadijah flicks her head back to meet Rio’s brown eyes and she can’t help but to let a smile split over her lips, then puckering them for Rio to peck and lick his own smiling lips afterwards, “you think you’re so smooth.”

“I mean give a guy some credit. How else do you think I got you?” Rio chuckled while Khadijah just nodded her head from side to side mockingly.

“Just eat your food Christopher.”

It was Rio’s turn to mimic his wife.

“Aight, Khadijah.” He said over his shoulder, sitting on his knees and reaching over for the second tray of food.

Chateau Des Milandes was a sight to see and was a wonderful experience. Ugh!!! here Khadijah was sounding like her very emotional Granny Mozella but she never took moments like these with Rio for granted. On the outside it may seem like Rio was only street smart since that’s what he preferred yet he didn’t mind listening in on historical facts from time to time and no he wasn’t really into podcasts—unless it was true crime content—but no one could ever say he wasn’t open to learning new material and translating it into his own life.

He was good at finding purpose in anything.

He also liked draping his arm across Khadijah’s shoulders as they took the tour around the home that used to be owned by the successful Josephine Baker. That was more interesting to Khadijah than the Lords that lived it way before Ms. Baker but nonetheless they took it all in together including the architecture.

No one could deny that France had a way with its design and art.

They explored the garden, which led to a picnic and wine for dinner with the French sunset as the perfect backdrop, then they ended their time at the Chateau with a bird experience, much to Rio’s surprise as Khadijah winked and placed a kiss on the tattoo on his neck, before clenching onto his arm for dear life once the various of birds—specifically the one that was very similar to the one on Rio’s skin started flying around.

Rio found amusement in that, even when they made it back to the rental car.

“If that big ass bird would have crapped on me, we would have been having a whole different type of bird for thanksgiving this year.” Khadijah continuously checked her outfit for any unfamiliar marks, the paranoia getting to her.

Rio couldn’t help but to throw his head back against the headrest laughing. “They’ve been trained, that wasn’t gonna happen. Plus it may just wanted a strand of your hair for warmth, huh? French winters can be brutal so I hear.”

The man went to curl a strand of his wife’s loose curl that framed her face who scoffed at him.

“You’re far from funny, Mr. Montoya.” Khadijah slapped his hand away to fix her pin curl updo in the drop down mirror.

Rio chuckled some more, watching her, “you’re right…I’m hilarious, Mrs. Montoya.”

“Im glad you had fun, baby. I can tell the bird part was your favorite,” Khadijah gave the man a playful side eye, “but now it’s time for my activity.”

Rio glanced at the watch on his wrist, “it’s going on seven…what else you trying to get into besides drinking more wine and eating cheese?”

“Whew! No more cheese for me.” Khadijah flicked the sun visor back up, “so…I have this other place to visit.”

Rio tapped on the GPS, “aight, what’s the address?”

“I don’t think the GPS will fully locate it…just to a certain point.”

Rio thought about this for a second and asked, “what? It’s some underground event or something?”

“Well sure, yeah. Kinda.” Khadijah shrugged her shoulders making Rio sigh and sit back with his hands clasped.

Khadijah was tapping away on her phone for a moment while Rio just studied her. When she realized the car wasn’t moving, Khadijah turned her attention back to Rio who was patiently waiting for her to come right on out with it.

“We’re not going anywhere until you give me the info I need. No shady shit allowed.”

Khadijah turned sideways to face Rio, “Okay so…there’s this house that we should see.”

“You said that already. But Why? To buy?”

“Hell no,” Khadijah was quick to say, further making Rio put his guard up as to what this whole adventure was even about, “I mean no…yeah no that’s exactly what I mean. It wouldn’t be for us to live…just to see.”

Rio pried, “what’s so special about it?”

“It has a colorful story.”

“Which is…?”

“The year was 1666–

“Nah,” Rio immediately said leaning forward to start the engine but Khadijah flew her hand out to stop Rio from switching the gears.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Rio leans on the console to completely face Khadijah, “by the way you’re dragging this out let’s me know you’re about to tell me some bullshit, that you know I’m not about to let fly.”

“Can’t a bitch add some extra flavor to the tale?” Khadijah scrunches up her face, “Sheesh.”

“Stop playin’ with me, Dija.”

“So hostile,” Khadijah flicked her hair off her shoulder, “alright you want the synopsis? Got it. So this house is special because during the year of 1666 a woman named Blanche lived there with her father, mother, two siblings, and new husband. Allegedly she was later accused of poisoning her family and beheaded her husband after they all suspected she was a witch because of some rumors started at the hospital she volunteered at. Her sickly father was the one to put her down after his wife and other children slowly started to die one by one. They say Blanche still haunts the home and asks when and or if you visit, to leave a ribbon and tea bag’s on their front step as a offering and for her to rid any vengeance in your life.”

Rio caressed his facial hair in thought, “Question for you, mamas? Did that eagle peck at your brain when i wasn’t around or…”

Khadijah sucks her teeth, “it’s spooky season, asshole!”

“I know that,” Rio lifts his shoulders carelessly, “but you’re trying to get into some serious shit and I can tell you one thing: I’m not feelin’ it.”

“Are you scared?” Khadijah leaned into the center console ready to comfort him, “I never said we had to go inside the house. Just see it and leave something for Blanche.”

Rio didn’t miss how Khadijah started to trail her hands over him but he didn’t fold, “Her business ain’t ours.”

It was Khadijah’s turn to laugh now, “you’re definitely scared!”

“No I’m not.” Rio scowled, “I’m just saying you have to be careful what you expose yourself to. I told moms we’d bring her back a baby, not a witch that may latch onto your body.”

Khadijah frowns, “why would you think Blanche would latch onto mine and not yours?”

“Whoever! And I really can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re trying to mess with some spirits.”

Khadijah wasn’t trying to “‘mess with spirits,” she always respected the dead but this sounded better than visiting the catacombs to be honest.

So she challenged, “Hey! It’s something to do.”

“I can find plenty of other things we can get into.” Rio placed his chin into the palm of his hand, “We’re not about to be here much longer anyway.”

Khadijah sighs as she grabs Rio’s hand to place in her lap, “I’ll let you try out our new toy at the same time while you’re inside…”

Rio’s eyes begin to darken as they meet Khadijah’s much lighter ones. This was a promising bargain and this Khadijah knew as Rio trailed his own hand up her stomach, between her breasts, and to grip her chin.

“You’re lucky I love you,” Rio states as he presses their lips together and leads the way with his tongue dancing along hers.

It’s passionate and a little nasty just the way the married couple liked their kisses but brief enough that he leaves Khadijah panting on the passenger side. He smirks to himself, lifting up from the driver’s side to pull out his Glock 17 from his black jeans to rest on the dashboard.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Rio tells Khadijah who shortly follows through, “and not a word of this to my abuelita.”

Khadijah makes a cross my heart motion as Rio puts the car in drive.

The drive to this supposed haunted home was a good half hour north from where they were staying and the decline of the countryside was clear. There seemed to be no livelihood as the skies got even darker. Rio could sense to the left of him that Khadijah seemed to be at unease the deeper they got into the area.

He checks in, “How we doing?”

“Hm? Oh, there it is. Stop.”

Rio turns his attention back to the lack of road up ahead and notices that there’s a tunnel with no lighting. He steps on the breaks, witnessing to the left of the tunnel the narrow road carried upwards to what exactly? That he didn’t know. There was no homes or animals in sight on this drive since they started getting further away from the chateau.

“What’s this?”

“That’s the tunnel that leads to Blanche’s house.” Khadijah is sitting on the edge of the passenger seat now.

Rio tightens his hold on the steering wheel, eyes scanning the scenery with the help of the automatic headlights. If they went through that tunnel, which was surely to be just as narrow as the roads out here in the countryside he wasn’t positive they would make it back. His intuition  was telling him since the beginning that this didn’t feel right and being physically here was enough to confirm that for Rio.

Turning his eyes into slits towards the right of the tunnel, Rio can see a decaying headstone with a bunch of colorful ribbons tossed around and possibly some rocks that were most likely teabags scattered below it.

“This is what you came for,” Rio says keeping his eyes on the road.

“Oui-Oui.” Khadijah says suddenly halfhearted and any other time Rio would have laughed but the expression on her face made him aware that the tension was also felt by her as well.

Rio steps on the gas, driving full speed towards the tunnel but stops just at edge, parallel to the headstone, making Khadijah grip the dashboard at the abruptness.

“Get going, sweetheart.” Rio tells Khadijah with a lift of his chin.

Khadijah swallows, prying her eyes away from the tunnel then to the headstone and back to her husband. “W-what? You’re not coming with me?”

“I never said I was going in there. I have sense.” Rio tapped at his temple.

Khadijah glares, “wow. So here’s to trying new things was just another one of your lies then huh?”

“Another? Don’t go there, I’m not doing that with you this evening. You brought this terrible idea to me and I brought you here so go head, show me you’re the one who isn’t scared.” Rio’s hardened stare was now on the fuming woman.

Khadijah didn’t know what the fuck Rio’s problem was and why he thought this energy was okay? Khadijah didn’t like Rio’s tone so she snatched her baguette bag from beside her feet and went to push on the door but remained right inside.

“Are you serious?!”

Rio made a U-Turn and began driving back in the direction they came, “are you forreal thinking I’m about to have our asses messing around with the actual dead? Let alone your indecisive ass? And we don’t even have the full context?”

“I mean…do you not have bodies? You don’t see me questioning you about them.” Khadijah muttered.

Rio snapped his eyes to his wife, “two completely different things and you know that.”

It really wasn’t but okay, if Rio hated her riding the fence then let’s see if he hated it now.

“Whatever.” Khadijah slouched against the seat, “You just wasted our time, like why entertain the fact that you were with it if you’re just gonna try to clown me?”

“I wasn’t letting you do that and you should have known that.” Rio clenched his jaw, “I would never willingly put you in harm’s way and that’s exactly what you were signing up for.”

Khadijah knows Rio wouldn’t and if she wanted to be petty she could but she just mumbles, “You just ruined spooky season in France like?”

“Better throw that ribbon and teabags out the window and get glad. Who knows what would have happened if we went down that dark ass tunnel with only the Glock against a whole spirit mind you, that we don’t even know if she’s still vengeful or not.”

“I mean you make valid arguments…and I don’t even know if the house is still standing. The last update online was from 2021 so I guess I can’t be too pressed about it.” Khadijah explains as she starts to search through her bag, “but you can’t say I was indecisive this time, yet you locked me in here like I’m a child.”

Rio deeply exhales, rubbing at his face in slight aggravation, “yeah we gotta get back to Detroit and quick. I think you need to go back to work and continue spreading peaceful energy at that non-profit instead whatever this is.”

“What?” Khadijah sucked her teeth, “Trying to be on theme?”

“We could easily rent a movie at the spot and call it a day.”

“I wanna be one with nature!”

“As soon as we get far away from Blanche’s murder site, I’ll take the locks off so you can touch some grass.”

“Ohhhh, I cannot stand you!” Khadijah scowled followed by some laughter before ghosting her fingers over the window button, “is this going to work for me or am I still being held hostage?”

Rio just hums to himself, glancing in the rear view spotting a blur of white in the distance along with something that wasn’t tumbleweed rolling right by their feet.

Khadijah doesn’t notice as she cracks the window to toss a pink ribbon and a teabag out on the dirt road.

And when she looks in the rearview, she doesn’t see anything unusual or creepy. So she rolls her window back up and presses her elbow into the arm of the door, resting her cheek along her fingers, watching the night scenery whip by her highlighter eyes.

Soon Rio’s hand reaches for the Glock to rest in the cup holders before sneaking his hand over to bring Khadijah’s hand up to his lips. He knew she was a little sour with him over this and probably a bunch of other built up issues but Khadijah always tried to make the best of it.

Rio was trying to get better at validating her feelings but this shit right here was not it and Khadijah knew that inside. Which is why he had a more safer route up his sleeve to spend the day with Khadijah tomorrow since celebrating Halloween was apparently too american for the French. So he did the best that he could choosing a theme park that would be “on theme” for Khadijah’s spooky cravings.

That would be his gift to her and routine of keeping her best interest at heart, even if she didn’t fully want to see it that way sometimes…

Ah, she’ll be aight.

𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔𒅒𒇫𒄆 𒅒𒈔

Continue along with my October anthology prompts here.

#Spotify #Rio good girls #rio x black!reader #rio x reader #october prompts #queued #spooky prompts #good girls nbc #Rio x oc #manny montana

[berberriescorner]

"Are You Listening?"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader

Summary: After months of being neglected, your anger reaches its boiling point. Time is money, and you know that Rio is all about his bread. If you want to be the king, you gotta stay busy. What’s more important, love or money? Can you have both? Is it possible to be both a cold-hearted businessman and a loving partner? Showing emotion can be a sign of weakness in Rio’s world. How does that work in a marriage? At the same time, you chose to be with him. Shouldn’t you be used to it?

Warnings: Profanity (are you surprised😂). A smidge of daddy kink, with a tiny spot of degradation (again, no surprise there🤣). Angst (quite a bit). A little fluff…it’s there I promise. Sprinkled it with some smut, too (it’s giving a bit of praise kink and dom vibes😈).

Word Count: 3,800+.

A/N: Italicized sentences are the reader's thoughts (in case you were confused and/or curious). It’s kind of lengthy, but the reader had to pop her shit…and Rio popped right TF back👏🏾😆. Part two, yeah can’t tell you when it’s coming, but I’m working on it.

Inspired By:

From the moment Rio found you angrily wiping down the kitchen counters, there had been nothing but tension. For the first ten minutes, he was oblivious to the fact. He was too busy answering texts and was very clearly preoccupied with business. Taking a moment to notice your anger, he asked the one question that would set you off. “What’s wrong, mama?”

No, he wasn’t a mind reader, but how could he not know? You had only been asking him to try to make time for you for months. Three nights in a row, Rio had made empty promises. There were failed dinner reservations on night one. Surprisingly, he’d managed to make your movie date the second night. Only Rio had left you thirty minutes into the film to finish it alone. Supposedly some business needed handling, and it couldn't wait. He urged you to stay and enjoy it. Mick would get you home safely. Tonight consisted of a failed candle-lit dinner (also his idea). Rio had called minutes after you had taken the meal out of the oven. “Go ahead and eat without me. I’m not sure what time I’ll be there. Sorry, mama.” All these things led to the argument that was taking place in the middle of your spacious kitchen.

“There's always a business trip to take. Always an issue with something that only you can solve. You constantly have to run behind that thirsty ass bitch of a stalker you call a business associate. All because said associate is constantly fucking up the plan. You’re never here! I get more dick from my vibrator than I do my husband!”

“Is the problem I’m never home, or do you just need some dick? Are you touch starved mama? Feeling needy, a little neglected?”

Rio was starting to pluck at your nerves in the worst way. It was kind of backfiring, the conversation began to aggravate him. He hated when you complained about him working too much.

“It’s all of the above ni-you know what I’m tired of repeating myself. It’s clear you’re not listening and don't give a fuck, Christopher.”

“I’ve been listening.” 

“Listening to respond. Not to understand me, Rio!”

“You’re tired of saying it. I’m tired of hearing it, darlin’.”

Typical Rio fashion. Feelings closed off. Always the calm and collected sarcastic asshole. I’m trying not to swing on this man. Jesus, give me strength.

“That’s all you have to say? Of course, 'cause you’re incapable of showing emotion. Jesus, Rio. I’m trying to fix the disconnect between us.” 

“All we do is argue about the same shit. How many times I gotta explain it, mama? I’m running an empire, I can’t be out here just sitting around. What you want me to do? Leave it on Mick and the rest of my men? All it takes is for one thing to go wrong. If I ain’t there to fix it, you know what’s gonna happen? Everything goes to shit and I get knocked ten steps back. I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money.”

“I’m not letting anything fuck up the business or my money. Bullshit excuses. I know what I signed up for, Christopher,” you mocked him.

“Then act like it. There you go with that mouth. Watch your tone, ma.”

His voice had turned cold and there was fire burning in his eyes. Rio was giving you all the signs that you were skating on thin ice. Any other time it would be enough to get you to back down, but not this time. You were sick and tired of coming last to everything, especially that thirsty ass housewife.

It was one thing to take a backseat to the business. You loved his work ethic and understood that he was busy. However, it had been a month and a half long stretch. Rio, coming home at all hours of the night. Not even having time to eat a little breakfast and talk in the mornings. The fact that it had been so long caused doubt to creep into your mind. If he wasn't fucking me, then who in the hell was it? You had never known him to ever go without sex this long.

Popping up to visit him at work was out of the question. Months prior, one of his rivals had attempted to snatch you from the grocery store parking lot. The assailant had no clue that Mick had accompanied you. He was in the car waiting, as the idiot tried to approach you. Poor bastard never even saw Mick coming. Rio had lost his shit.  Doing his best to keep you protected, he wanted you as far away from the business as possible. There was also the fact that he switched warehouses so frequently. You couldn’t even attempt to ignore his rule about keeping a distance. The desperate housewife could come up there anytime she felt it necessary though. He doesn’t give a shit about her. It’s your safety he’s worried about. Your thoughts were battling with one another. The negative side winning. The thought of her being there pissed you off.

“Are we going to keep going back and forth over nothing? Are you ready to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

“For a successful businessman, you’re pretty damn stupid. I’ve just sat here and explained it for the hundredth time! Sometimes I honestly can’t fuckin’ stand you, Rio.”

By the time the last word fell from your lips, Rio had made his way across the room. Inches away from your face he rasped, “the fuck did you just say to me? Your brain short circuit, mama?” Giving you a chance to walk your previous statements back, he waited, hoping you had come to your senses. You were seething with anger at not getting through to him. There were also those thoughts of him and that woman spending time together. The time that he should have been spending with you. Let’s not forget the nonexistent sex life. You were feeling unheard, neglected, pissed off, horny, and…jealous? Were you jealous of Beth? That thought alone caused your anger to rise. You were in the mood to choose violence.

“Look, I know dotting little Elizabeth jumps every time you tell her to, but not me baby. Keep waiting for me to retract my previous statement all you want. I said what the fuck I said, Christopher.” 

The fire was still burning in Rio’s eyes, but his smoldering glower had morphed into a smile. Now smirking he closed what little space was left between the two of you. Hand circling your throat he pushed you up against the wall.

“And there it is. Finally, the truth comes out. You jealous, mama? Is that it?”

“Jealous of what? That basic bitch, get the fuck out my face, Rio.”

He’s not dickin’ you down sis! He gotta be slanging it somewhere. Two, almost three MONTHS! He brought it up. Actually, no, you did.

“Since we're on the topic. Are you sleeping with her?”

“Stop playing with me, Y/N,” he snapped. “What do you think I do at work, ma?”

“We don’t have sex, Rio. Your ass can hardly be satiated. I can barely recall the last time you knocked me down. So, tell me, who’s been satisfying your needs?” 

Gripping your throat a bit tighter, he chuckled. His lips grazing over the top of yours, he whispered, “do you honestly think I would risk losing you over a quick fuck, ma? I see lack of sex makes you delusional.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“Yeah, keep digging yourself a deeper hole, ma. Keep running your mouth, and I’m gon’ fill it up.”

You so desperately wanted to moan at his words, but you were too stubborn to give in. If only he knew how badly you wanted to drop to your knees. Take him down your throat and let him have his way with you.

“I’m not interested in community dick.”

“The fuck did I just tell you?”

You rolled your eyes still not believing him.

“I’ve been snapping at people left and right. The smallest inconvenience has been getting everybody's head knocked off. That being said I think it’s safe to say that I’m just as irritable as you are. The difference is you wear your heart on your sleeve, ma.”

“No, the difference is you've been handing out my dick.”

“Now who’s being stupid and not listening? I like you being jealous though, it’s cute, baby.”

Placing his hands at the sides of your neck, his lips covered yours in a hungry kiss. Tongue swiping across your parted lips, he asked for entry. Being stubborn you did your best not to grant him access. Trying to push him away from you, he pulled back giving you a mischievous smile. 

“I don’t know why you fighting it, ma. Know you ain’t do all this fussin’ just to end the night without me filling you up,” he teased. Pressing his lower half against you, a gasp fell from your lips. The feel of his growing erection made you pant and rut against him. His name fell from your lips.

“R-Rio, we’re not done talk-”

He picked you up, wrapping your legs around his body. With your back pinned to the wall, he groaned as his dick rubbed against you once more. “No more talking, baby.” Pushing your nightshirt out of the way he slipped his hand past the lace of your panties and circled your clit. Whimpering, your head fell back against the wall. He removed his hand long enough to slip your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor.

“Rio, seriously. Let me-.”

Grabbing you by the throat, he pulled you into another searing kiss. It was lewd and erotic as he ground his hips against yours. He was so hard that you knew his jeans were becoming more uncomfortable by the second. His erection bumping against your soaked core caused you to gasp.

“Chrisstopherr. I-.”

His hands gripped your neck tighter as he growled through clenched teeth, “Shut. Up.” 

His hips rotated into you again as your eyes rolled back. “That turn you on, mama? Love it when I shut your ass up? Choking you got you so wet, darlin’. Look at the mess you’re making on daddy’s pants, fuck. Let’s get these off of you, yeah,” he groaned. Without putting you down his dominant hand ripped your panties off. Your lips fell open to complain, but before you could get a word out his fingers penetrated your mouth.

“Pretty sure I told you to shut up. Suck. Get them nice and wet for me.”

He had all but shoved his fingers down your throat. Loving every bit of it, you took his fingers' knuckles deep. Swirling and sucking like the good girl he wanted you to be. The more you sucked, the more aroused you both became.

“Good girl,” he praised as his free hand groped your breast.

The smug look on his face annoyed you and you started in again once he pulled his fingers from your mouth.

“No, you're not doing this right now. Put me down so we can finish this discussion.”

He shook his head no, “why can’t your bratty ass just sit back and shut up,” he rasped as his wet fingers trailed back down your naked body. “Gonna make you regret not listening to daddy.”

His fingers were back in you before you could give him a smart-ass rebuttal. Slipping two fingers inside your channel. Rio reached for that sweet spot that could instantly bring you to tears. He plunged his digits deep enough, tapping it repetitively forcing you to cry out.

“Fu-stop, I’m not done talk-shit! Don’t stop! Oh my god. Yes!”

He felt your walls tighten around his digits. Just as you were about to fall apart all over them, he removed his hand.

“Rio!”

“Did I say you could cum? I don’t remember you asking for permission, mama.”

Not giving you time to respond, he plucked you from the wall. Rio carried you over to the dining room table. Still gripping your waist, he used his free arm to swipe the dinnerware and place settings onto the floor. Your back slammed against the table just as the dishes collided with the floor. You wanted to bitch about the broken items but decided against it.

“Don’t say a fucking word, Y/N. This is what you wanted right? I’ll buy you a new set, just shut up and take this dick.”

His palm glided across your chest, stopping to press you flat against the surface. Standing between your soaked thighs, he used his free hand to unbuckle his jeans, pushing his clothing low enough to let his thick member spring free. His girth glistened with precum as he dug inside you. You were overwhelmed with sexual bliss and went slack-jawed at how full you felt. Not able to form any words, a whimper fell from your lips. 

“Ain’t been in you that long. I already got you speechless, darlin’.”

His hips circled in and out of you, the strokes becoming deeper. The feeling was overwhelming and he felt you trying to slide back for relief. Gripping your thighs, he shook his head as he pulled you in and thrust harder.

“Naw, where you going? Ain’t no running, mama. Thought you wanted this dick.”

“Rio, it’s too much. Please, baby.”

Your pleas fell on deaf ears, as he spread your thighs wider. His hands moved up to your waist and he started to fuck you harder and faster. You started to whine as his signature crooked grin formed on his face. He tossed his head back, biting his lip as he felt you grip him tighter.

“So fuckin’ tight, mama. This still mine, right? This my pussy?”

It was almost impossible to answer with him constantly tapping your g-spot. Your nails scraped against his T-shirt. You tapped his abdomen, taking a deep breath. The words tumbled out of your mouth.

“Yes! You know it is. Take this shit off,” you demanded clawing at his shirt. “Need to feel you.”

Rio sank the deepest he could.

“Feel that, mama.”

This bitch thinks he’s funny.

“Fuck, Rio,” you cried out. “You know what I mean,” you mewled.

His hips continue to pound into you, as he slid his shirt over his head and tossed it aside. Rio bent down, letting his lips ghost yours, “that better, mama,” he whispered.

You pulled him closer shoving your tongue into his mouth, as he fucked you through the kiss. Rio’s hand slipped between the two of you, his index and middle finger drew slow circles into your clit. The tremors in your thighs signaled that you were close.

“Daddy,” you cried out, scratching his back.

“I know, baby. It’s been too long. Let go, mama. You gon’ be a good girl and squirt for me? Hmm?”

His hips were slamming into you with brute force. So much that you felt your body slide up the table. Rio took notice and laid a hand against your abdomen to keep you in place. The weight of his hand had you gasping. The crooked smile graced his face once more,  as he pressed harder. Leaning in, he growled, “you feel that shit? You like getting them guts rearranged, sweetheart?”

“Oh, shit! Yes, I love it so fucking mu-ah! Shit, I’m cu-ahh!”

Your body started shaking uncontrollably. Your release was so strong, that you did in fact squirt. Rio pulled out, letting his ringed fingers rub you through it. Your hand found its way around his wrist, as you tried to pull him away from you.

“Too sensitive, daddy.”

He pushed your hand away, grabbing you by the throat. His lips crashed into yours as he continued to rub into you. Another orgasm hit you instantly. It was so strong that tears were rolling down your cheeks. Pulling away from the kiss he groaned, “I don’t give a fuck about you being sensitive. I’ma make you come as many times as I want, baby.” Rio sat down in the dining chair and gave you an order, “come sit on this dick.”

Stroking himself he watched as you carefully made your way to him on wobbly legs. He snatched you by your waist pulling you down onto his long rod.

“Ohh, fuck,” you whimpered, as he slapped your ass.

Giving you just a moment to adjust, Rio gripped your behind.

“What you waiting on? Ride me, mama. You get one chance to do it right,” he instructed, smacking your bottom again.

You bounced on him vigorously at first, but the two previous orgasms had zapped all your energy. Taking him in fully you sat in his lap rocking back and forth. His hand grasped your chin as he spat, “I really be trying to give you a chance, ma.”

His hands grabbed hold of your soft globes as he lifted you. He held you at the tip for a moment.

“Gonna make you regret trying to take the easy route, darlin’.”

Sliding you back down, he started to jackhammer into you. Pressure started building in your core, as you threw your head back.

“No, please. Fuck, oh fu-Christopher. Can I come? Please, daddy.”

“I should make your little bratty ass hold it, but fuck I’m close. Go ahead, come for me, bitch,” he growled.

Rio knew a little degradation would be just the thing to push you over the edge.

“Christopher,” you shouted, as you fell apart for the third time that night.

You tucked your face into the crook of his neck, as he fucked his way to a release, “fuck,” he groaned, painting your walls. He massaged your back, helping you come back down. You pulled back and smiled at him lazily. He bit his lip as his hand reached to brush a strand of hair from your face. Rio kissed you until you both pulled apart breathless. He was about to offer to carry you upstairs for a relaxing shower, but a loud knock on the front door interrupted him.

“Who the fuck is beating on the door like a madman?”

Rio handed you his shirt as he pulled on the bottom half of his clothes. He swiped his gun from the countertop. Whoever it was, was now knocking and ringing the doorbell like a crazy person.

“Where’s your purse?”

“Kitchen counter.”

“Get your gun and go hide in the pantry. Do not come out. I will come to get you. I don’t know who the fuck this is, but better safe than sorry. Go!”

“No, I want to stay with you.”

“Not now, don’t do this now. Get your ass in the fucking pantry.”

“Okay, damn!”

You pecked his lips before doing what he said. Retrieving your gun from the luxury handbag, you slipped into the pantry. You were able to hear the conversation with the person who had interrupted aftercare. Making out the voice, you grew irritated. Exiting the pantry, you bounded over to the front door. Not giving a damn about the glare on Rio’s face, you snapped.

“Why the hell were you knocking on our door like the damn police? What the fuck, Mick?”

“Aye! Relax. Chill, mama. I wasn’t answering my phone and some business needs handling,” he replied as he backed you away from the door. You had been waving your gun around full of attitude. “Give me this fucking gun before you shoot somebody! I taught you how to handle this shit safely. Could’ve sworn I told your ass to stay put. I’ma deal with you later. Go upstairs and get cleaned up. Coming to the door half-naked. Why can’t you just listen? Anybody else would’ve gotten shot for disobeying an order. Yet here you are steadily trying my fucking patience.”

Aware that you had struck Rio’s last and final nerve. You decided to do as you were told. Rolling your eyes at a smirking Mick, you left to make your way upstairs.

Gathering items for you both to shower, Rio entered the room.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I got upset, we were having a sweet moment. Then your henchman showed up, killing the vibe.” 

“I know, but we’ll have to discuss your listening skills later, mama. I got to slide,” he replied.

He was sitting at the edge of the bed in a change of clothes. Rio was too distracted with lacing up his shoes to notice the disappointment on your face.

“Later? You’re leaving?”

“Didn’t I just tell you there are some things I gotta handle?”

“Just gonna fuck me and leave, huh? Should I even bother waiting up?”

“You just nagged me about our sex life. Did I not just blow your back out? You know what, I’m not having this argument with you again. I don’t need this shit on my mind for what I’m about to go and do. Can we not have static for once, mama?”

The fact that he still doesn’t get that it’s not just about the sex. Either he just doesn’t care, or there’s no getting through to him. I’m drained at this point. I just love him so much it hurts. He’s not wrong though.  I should let him leave with a clear head.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you walked over to him and gave him a tight hug and kiss. “Come back to me safe, papa.”

He wrapped his hand around your jaw, pulling you back to him, “Give me one more, mama.” Chuckling, you kissed him long and hard.

“If it’s not too late, call me on your way home. I’ll have your dinner warmed and ready when you get here. Love you, baby.”

Rio nodded his head, as he smacked your behind and pecked your forehead. He whispered in your ear, “I’m doing the best I can, mama.” With that, he made his departure.

 You showered and did your nightly routine. The next couple of hours were spent lying in bed thinking about your relationship. For months you had been trying to communicate that there were problems in and outside the bedroom. You were running out of ways to express that.

How many times can you beg someone to hear you? Why is it so hard to get him to show emotion? It’s not just a lack of intimacy. He’s not present. Even when he’s here, his mind is somewhere else. Yes, I know what I signed up for, but something’s got to give.

Letting out a sad sigh, you pushed the negative thoughts out of your mind. Just as you were about to close your eyes, a text came through. It was from an unknown number and the contents of the message made your heart shatter.

Part two in the works! Hope you enjoyed it lovelies🥰. Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated🥹💓.

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics

Gif/Photo credit: @goldengunplay (gif in mood board).

Tag list:

@nightlywords7 , @amorestevens , @4everbrookemarie , @crimsonheart01 , @rio-reid-whoreee , @mrsmontanalol , @blessedboo , @fandomcitysstuff , @drinaj , @laricebabe , @sunshine-flower , @sunnyfleur23 , @lemmewritesomeish

@catxo , @kayla1blog , @naughtyslashers , @skelly-baby , @being-worthy , @superhoeva , @realhotgurlshit , @peaches007 , @adg1115

@sxkxna , @whore4-horror , @gardenof-venus , @elliesrealgf , @aizawash0e , @minton131 , @novaniskye , @90sisthenew80s , @cjricks98 , @skyesthebomb , @pimpsdontcryy , @batgurl42 , @myownworstenemydw , @lifeofthelovelyone , @tashawar , @gabbywontlose

#berberriescorner #are you listening? #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!oc #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #manny montana #Spotify

[dreadheadmadi]

- I’M GONNA CLAW THOSE PRETTY LIL’ EYES OUT

A/N: Trying something new, we’ll see how this goes. I’m a college girlie, so updates are slow‼️

Parings: aaron davis x black! oc, the prowler x black cat! oc

Warnings: action, fighting, blood, gore, descriptive language, death, etc. (I will update as I go)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

#black tumblr #x reader #across the spiderverse #x female reader #aaron davis #black love #aaron davis x reader #spiderverse x reader #the prowler x reader #the prowler x black cat #black cat #felicia hardy #miles morales #jefferson davis #rio morales #x black oc #x black reader #x black fem reader

[calif0rnia-lovers]

lyrically inspired tales part I

Thank you to everyone who has submitted a request so far! These are the ones I plan to tackle first. They are the ones where ideas came quickly. Once all of these are complete, I will work to complete the other requested songs.

Summaries of the first 4 are below the cut. As a reminder, these are intended to be one shots and will vary in length. Decided to try my hand at supernatural elements 😬

#jax teller imagine #steve harrington imagine #rio good girls #black!oc #jax teller x oc #jax teller x black!reader #steve harrington x reader #rio good girls imagine #rio imagine

[e1dritchjackal0pe]

Is it just me or is Rio hella Agora Hills coded ???

#rio x reader #rio x you #rio x beth #rio good girls #goodgirls #rio gg x reader #rio x oc #rio gg #manny montana #manny x reader #rio imagine #rio x black!reader #rio x m!reader

[undevidedattentionsblog]

HURRY TF UP AND MAKE A CONNIE X BLACK READER FIC NOWWW

#connie x black reader #connie springer x black reader #aot x black reader #reiner x black reader #connie x black y/n #manny montana x black reader #connie springer x black oc #rio x black reader #chubby black reader #hobie brown x black reader

[pantherastevens]

His Sunshine in the Darkness: I'm Safe in Her Heart

Back again with anotha' one. Welcome to His Sunshine in the Darkness Part Two!

Here is where things start picking up. You should already have idea of what's about to go down in this chapter so I'm not even gonna hold y'all.

Here's Part One, in case any of you guys missed it!

Enjoy!

Warnings: Main Character Death

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

Everything was going so well for Miles... until it wasn't.

It all happened so fast. It was the start of summer, Miles' sophomore year becoming nothing more than a distant sweet memory. His dad left for work that morning, along with his mom. One of the last things he told him,

"Have a good day at work, papá. I love you." Jefferson smiled that good-natured smile, hugging his son in his famous bear hugs as the boy laughed at his antics.

"Will do, son. I love you too." And he was out the door with a large hand around his mom's waist.

That was the last time he'd seen him so alive.

The next time Miles would see his dad was in the hospital, lying on the bed with his mother weeping over his body. He and Uncle Aaron stood behind her. He felt the weight of his tío's hand on his shoulder while he rubbed his mamá's heaving back.

It was the only thing teetering him to this Earth. The only thing that was keeping him mentally here. He could feel the memories of what had happened earlier that led him to this point.

Seeing the building collapse from the window of his room.

Turning on the news to see his dad's body placed in an ambulance.

Reading the news headline, "NYPD Captain in Critical Condition After Saving A Little Girl From Building Collapse."

Seeing Uncle Aaron on the other side of the door, telling Miles they were going to the hospital to see his dad.

Clinging onto Uncle Aaron as he sped through the streets on his motorcycle, silently praying for his dad to be alright.

Hearing his dad's final words as he stood on Death's doorstep. 

"I will always love you, Rio. You're... the love of my life. Aaron, despite... despite our differences, you'll always... always be my baby brother. Take... take care of Rio and Miles for me, yeah? And... Miles... you'll always be my son. My pride... and joy. P-Panthera... is a good girl for you... she'll t-take care of your heart like your mom has done for me... Just know that... Whatever... you choose to do, I-I know you'll be great at it. I... I believe in you. Never forget that... I love all of you... I love you..."

The sound of the heart monitor flatlining in time with his dad's final confession and the limpness on his hand on all of theirs was deafening. 

Just like that... Jefferson Morales was gone. Taking part of his family's heart with him to the great beyond.

The next few days felt like a blur. The most Miles remembers was watching the news, trying to understand why.

Why he now had to grow up with a father. Why his mother had to continue on this journey called life without her husband. Why his uncle had to bury his older brother so damn soon.

Why. Why? Why?!

The answer? A premeditated plan made by some unknown gang. Since being sworn into his position, Jeff had to deal with the steady rise in crime in Brooklyn. He has done a great job thus far, which made criminals hate him even more. What is the best way to solve the problem?

Get rid of him by any means necessary.

The statement left in his dad's office at the station by said gang about his demise said that much.

That stuck with Miles.

While everyone else was enjoying their summer, Miles spent his time rotting away in his bed. His normally pristine room was a wreck from the rage fit he had when he returned from the hospital.

Plenty of his classmates had stopped by the apartment to offer their condolences, but Miles could barely remember who showed up. Miles never felt more out of touch with reality in his short life.

Uncle Aaron and his mother worked together to put together the funeral. Miles never questioned his tío on how he managed to get the funds to pay for everything, and neither did his mother, who was just grateful to have the funds in the first place.

Then the day came. 

Miles was awake in the wee hours of the morning, sightlessly staring up at the ceiling. The boy knew he was nowhere ready to face it.

The physical manifestation that his dad was never coming back.

But he knew he had to.

The mother and son showered, ate breakfast, and dressed in their respective black dress and suit in silence. They went to the local church early so his mother could ensure everything was in order. Miles sat on the steps outside. Aaron arrived soon after, patting the boy on the shoulder, who nodded in acknowledgment, before heading inside to ensure his sister-in-law didn't stress herself even more.

Soon, it was time for the funeral to start. He, his mom, and Uncle Aaron stood towards the church entrance. A lot of Miles' classmates and their parents showed up. Some of his teachers too. Some old friends from his old school showed up. A lot of his dad's coworkers came as well. Members of his mom's side of the family showed up, at least who could on such short notice. Uncle Aaron and his mom did handle most of the conversations. Miles just nodded in acknowledgment. 

Until she showed up.

Miles always considered Panthera to be an angel. But he didn't expect her to come to her to come as one. 

While everyone, including his family, showed up wearing black, she and her father, whom Miles finally had the opportunity to meet, showed up in white with white face paint adorning their features.

Miles felt a bit of himself return to reality for the first time since the hospital.

Panthera had left Brooklyn with her dad to visit Oakland just a few days before his dad passed away. He texted her what happened, which led to a late-night FaceTime call with her comforting him. A part of him desperately wanted her to be there with him, hold him, and comfort him. But he knew that she couldn't. When she promised to be there for the funeral, it eased his bleeding heart for the night.

Seeing her physically in front of him was like a breath of fresh air after being underwater for so long...

Miles finally tuned in to the conversation being had between the adults.

"No disrespect or anything, Eric, but um... why white," Aaron asked as he took in the outfits of the young man he helped years ago and his daughter.

"It's customary in our culture to wear white to funerals," Eric answered easily. Aaron raised a brow at this but accepted this.

"Well, thank you for coming and honoring my husband in your unique way, Mr. Stevens and Panthera. Your... Your support means a lot," Rio spoke up, her voice shaky. Eric squeezed her hand.

"Please, call me Eric. And, of course. I'm sorry I never got to meet the man himself, but from Panthera has told me about him... it sounds like he was an amazing man and an incredible father..." Eric's eyes focused on Miles. "I know what it's like to lose a dad. Just know you're always welcome in our home if you ever need it..." With a pat on the boy's shoulder, Eric entered the church. Panthera was about to follow her father when someone grabbed her hand. She turned to find Miles' eyes nervously searching her own.

"I... C-Could you sit next to me during the service, gatita?" Panthera's brows nearly kissed her hairline at the sudden request. She wasn't family, so she had no real reason to be with them...

...but she could see that Miles wanted her to be by his side. No... needed her to be by his side.

"...If it's alright with your mother and uncle, then sure," she said softly. The pair turned to Rio and Aaron, who were already observing the exchange. Rio gave the girl a watery smile, hugging the girl tightly.

"Of course, you can. We already consider you to be family, mija. Please, sit with us." Panthera hugged the grieving widow back.

"Then it will be my honor..."

Soon, the group entered the church to start the service.

Aaron acted as Rio's pillar of support, and Panthera acted as Miles' as they made their way down the aisle. Panthera sent a silent look to her Baba, who seemed to understand that she would be with family rather than with him. His eyes softened at the boy walking beside her, knowing he needed a friend, and Eric was proud that Panthera could be that friend. Miles had a death grip on Panthera's arm as they walked through the pews with people staring at them. Luckily, his precious gatita didn't seem to mind, rubbing his arm soothingly as she offered her quiet support. Soon they were finally in front of the casket.

An open casket.

From the side, Jeff looked as if he was sleeping. It's not until you get closer you see the enormous gash on the other side of his head. The suit concealed his other injuries well.

Still, the sight of his body was enough to break Aaron, Miles, and Rio into tears. Miles couldn't cry for days. Upon hearing the news of his father's condition, the numbness he felt seeped into his bones and nervous systems, stifling all other emotions.

But now? It was like the floodgates were broken, splintered into millions of tiny, unfixable pieces. He collapsed on his knees alongside his mother, crying for a man long gone. Aaron stared at his brother's face as he held his grieving widow, tears running down his angular face like neverending waterfalls. Panthera's comforting arms found their way around Miles' shoulders, a few tears escaping her eyes into his hair.

"I'm here, Mi. Let it all out. I'll still be here..."

The service soon started after Miles and his family calmed down. A slideshow of Jeff throughout his life played on a projector in the background. A choir sang. Tears were shed. And the sermon was preached. Miles felt himself zone in and out until the preacher focused on him specifically, bringing him back with sharp focus.

"For the Bible says in Romans 13 verse 4, "...if you do wrong, be afraid, for he does not bear the sword in vain. For he is the servant of God, an avenger who carries out God's wrath on the wrongdoer." Young man... Your father died protecting this city and its citizens. I'm sure one of the things he taught you was to follow your conscience... in an often cruel world. Trust in that. Trust and believe in your heart that the criminals who took him away will face judgment."

Miles felt something twist in his chest as he looked at the preacher, giving a slow nod. Aaron didn't have to look to know that his nephew was glancing at him periodically as the preacher continued his message.

He knew there was gonna be a talk later.

When the man was done, it was time for those who wanted to share a few last words to take a stand and go to the front of the church.

Rio gave a heartfelt speech about her husband and how they spent many happy years together in their marriage.

Uncle Aaron talked about their childhood and how even though Jeff was a pain in the neck to him, he'll always be his older brother and will always love him as such.

Some of Jeff's coworkers spoke on his leadership, his love for the law, and his heart always wanting to serve and protect those who needed it most.

It took Miles a bit of courage to go up, but with reassuring hugs from his family and Panthera, he made his way to the podium. He shared how much of a loving, caring, doting, protective, and goofy dad he was—reminiscing on all the good, bad, and ugly times in their relationship. How much he loves him, even then, as he gazes at his dad's coffin.

"I remember the last thing I told you was 'I love you.' And... only God knows h-how glad I-I am that was the last thing I ever s-said to you. I know there were t-times wh-where we d-didn't see eye to eye, b-but you were still m-my dad at the e-end of the day... a-and I was still your s-son. I-I hope you're a-at peace, d-dad.Te quiero... te quiero mucho papá..." The boy couldn't hold back his tears, sobbing into the sleeve of his suit jacket. The boy couldn't see past his tears as he staggered away from the podium. Luckily, he didn't need to see.

He felt Panthera's familiar embrace wrap around his waist, silently urging him to lean on her as she led him back to their assigned bench. The girl silently handed him off to his mother, who immediately wrapped him in her arms and kissed his forehead. Through his sobs, he heard the preacher ask for one more person to come up before they ended, and much to his surprise, Panthera gracefully turned on heel and made her way back up to the podium.

She pulled the wireless mic from the stand before turning her attention to address the crowd.

"Hello, everyone. My name is Panthera Stevens. A close friend of Miles Morales... I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Morales towards the end of my freshman year. Upon our first meeting, I could see how fiercely he loved. How he would tenderly gaze at Mrs. Morales. How warmly he would watch Miles speak about our experiences and interactions. How welcoming he was to me, curious and willing to open his home to someone his son befriended. Since then, I have spent much time with the family. They made me feel as if I was family. He spoke to me as if I was a daughter than just a friend of his beloved son. I could see where Miles got his heart from..." The family gazed up at the girl in awe as she spoke. Her eyes were sparkling with unshed tears, but her voice remained steady and resolute. Panthera's warm gaze lingered on the trio.

"What happened to Jefferson Morales was sudden, tragic, and heartbreaking. I know... I know it may seem as if this is the end of life, but I beg to differ. You see... in my culture, my father's culture, my grandfather's culture... death is not the end. It's more of a... stepping-off point. You reach out with both hands, and Bast and Sekhmet... they lead you to the green veld where you can run forever. We celebrate the life the person lived on this plane and the start of their new one in the plane beyond, which is why we dress in white. He may not be here with us physically, but he will always live in the hearts he touched while he was here. If the family permits, I love to sing one song in his honor and memory." Rio nodded to the girl, giving a weepy smile. 

A member rushed up to the front; one quick conversation was all needed before sprinting away.

Soon the instrumental of the song played through the stereo system.

"Stand if you would like. Mr. Morales... Jeff, this for you..."

If you were to ask Miles to describe Panthera's voice in one word, he would say "passionate." He's heard her sing many times before, but this time...

It was like she was pouring out everything within her to sing this song in front of everyone. To say the words his father could no longer say for himself. From the corner of his eye, he could see his mother clasp both hands over her heart, beaming despite her heartache. Aaron's eyes shimmered with pride, happy to see his brother's philosophy performed so beautifully by a girl he would've loved to see become his daughter-in-law. Panthera approached the family, a ghost of a smile could be seen on her lips.

"I just want them to know..." 

She grasped Aaron's large hand with her small one, squeezing comfortingly, "That he gave his all, did his best..."

Panthera moved on to Rio, hugging her briefly but fiercely, "Brought people some happiness..."

She stopped in front of Miles, cupping the back of his neck so he could rest his forehead against hers for a moment. His teary tawny eyes met her warm expresso ones. "Left this world a little better just because..."

The girl turned to face the closed casket, a single tear escaping her eye. "He was here..."

Panthera sang the song's final lines with all she had, laying a single hand over the smooth wood of the casket as she sang the last line. When she finished, the crowd burst into tearful applause, but she wasn't paying them any mind. Her gaze remained focused on the closed lid that hid its occupant from sight.

"Rest in Power, Jefferson Morales..."

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

The funeral procession made its way to the cemetery. Panthera and Eric ended up riding with the family at the insistence of Rio and Aaron. The adults were talking amongst themselves while Miles held onto Panthera in silence. Panthera mindlessly rubbed Miles' neck as his face was hidden in hers.

"You okay, Mi," she asked softly, not wanting to draw too much attention to them. She felt him nod, lips brushing against her sensitive skin.

"Just wanna hold you..." The girl let out a mute chuckle, relaxing further in the boy's arms, much to his delight.

"Of course, anything for you..."

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

The burial was a quick affair. When the time came to lay Jeff to rest, everyone was emotionally haggard. When everyone threw in their choice of flowers, Panthera and Eric threw in a single Black-Eye Susan.

Eric and Panthera silently crossed their arms over their chests as the dirt was thrown to cover the coffin.

"Phumla ngoku, joni," Eric whispered. Panthera felt her bottom lip wobble but stood strong alongside her Baba.

"Enkosi ngenkonzo yakho... siyakuthanda," she said quietly.

It was finished. 

Here Lies Jefferson Morales: Father, Husband, Brother, Hero.

Rest in Peace...

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

It's been about two hours after the funeral and burial, and Miles hasn't moved from his position on the couch for about an hour and a half. Aaron had stepped out for a while, promising to return by dinner. His mother had decided to take some time to sleep before deciding on dinner.

It would most likely be takeout again. Rio Morales hasn't had the energy to cook since Jeff died. The most she'll do is figure out what her son and brother-in-law were in the mood for and go from there.

Miles was mulling over what he could possibly eat tonight when there was a knock on the door. The boy huffed from his position on the couch, not in the mood to deal with any more people for the day. Whoever it was seemingly didn't get the message and knocked again, more insistently. Miles glared tiredly at the barrier, hoping the person would get the hint and go away.

Soon his phone started to ring. LOUDLY.

The song "Hide" played through the phone speakers, immediately alerting Miles of who was calling him.

Panthera.

The boy scrambled to answer the call.

"P-Panthera," he asked slowly, confused as to why she was calling.

"Mi! I know you're inside, get off your ass and open the door before my arms give out!" Miles didn't need to be told twice, as he could literally hear her annoyance over the phone and outside his front door.

He met with the sight of Panthera and his father holding bags and containers. The pair were dressed down, wearing matching black wife beaters, gray sweats, and black socks with black Nike slides.

Miles blinked owlishly as he moved back to make room for the duo to enter his home (shoes off, of course) and head to the kitchen.

"Not be rude or anything, but... why are you two here," Miles asked as they set everything down on the counter or on the floor. Eric gave the boy a smirk.

"Your mom has mentioned to Panthera in passing how you all have been eating takeout more often than an actual home-cooked meal. My little girl has taken it upon herself to change that and make dinner for you all." Panthera glared playfully at her father, smacking his chest.

"Not little," she mumbled, completely ignoring how she was the shortest of the group. Miles and Eric chuckled, choosing not to comment on it.

"Sure, gatita. Thank you for Panthera... for everything." The girl spared a glance at her friend, finding a tired, vulnerable, yet grateful expression on his face. She sent him a small smile.

"Think nothing of it, Mi. Now go to sleep. You look half dead," she said, shooing the boy away. The boy let out a tired chuckle, leaning over to brush a sleepy kiss on the girl's temple before he went on his way. Eric raised a brow at that.

"Baby girl?" Panthera looked up to her father, who had a thoughtful look.

"That boy Miles... do you think he likes you more than just a friend," Eric quietly asked, not wanting to be overheard. 

'I love you, mi vida...' Panthera cleared her throat, pulling the produce she'll need for the recipe she had in mind for tonight.

"What makes you say that," she asked instead, cleaning off the veggies in the sink. A hand landed on her shoulder, forcing the girl to acknowledge her father's presence.

"I'm serious, Panthera. I know he's grieving the loss of his father, and it's wonderful that he has someone like you in his corner. He seems really comfortable with you to be considered just a friend..." Panthera pursed her lips, mulling over her next words.

"...It wouldn't surprise me if he liked me like that... I like him too, Baba. Very much," Panthera whispered, glancing at the slumbering boy on the family couch. Eric could see the soft look in his daughter's eyes as she looked at him. She didn't have to admit this to him. Eric knew Panthera loved the boy. And he could see Miles' love for her, clear as day whenever he looked at her...

But there was something there. Something... darker...

Maybe it was just Eric, but he could see a bit of himself in Miles. He lost his father when he was a young boy, having to witness his body grow colder and colder until nothing but a shell remained. He had to grow up alone. All Eric wanted was to be seen. 

To be heard. 

To be loved. 

But he was left alone, unable to get into contact with the people who seemingly rejected his father—rejected him. 

If he had someone like his daughter in his corner, he would've done anything and everything to keep them in his life. 

Even if it meant getting rid of others that stood between him and his person.

He would burn it all if it meant that one person who showed their love to an unfortunate soul such as himself would stay, be with him, and continue to love him. All because he loved them.

And if they didn't... well... they would have forever to learn to love him again, now wouldn't they?

Eric mentally shook off that last thought and looked at his daughter, who was looking up at him, those dark eyes peering curiously into his own.

"I know you do, inkosazana yam encinci. Anybody would be lucky enough to have your love... just be careful." Eric watched as Panthera's brows pinched in confusion.

"What do you mean, Baba..." Eric sighed, gazing at the occupant in the next room over.

"Love is a powerful emotion. It could empower you, give you purpose, and make this thing called life all the more worth it... but sometimes, it can change one's moral compass. Make them wanna do anything and everything to keep it close. People do unexplainable things when they're in love... I just want to know that the person that falls in love with my little girl can make her happy the same way she makes them happy. Freely..." Panthera hugged her father.

She wasn't entirely sure what to make of his words, but she knew that there was a reason behind it all. Maybe he'll explain it more when she's older...

"I'll do my best to be careful, Baba. Ndiyakuthandana," she mumbled into his broad chest. The man hugged her back, squeezing her.

"Nam ndiyakuthanda..." He kissed her forehead.

"I have to go now. I have another job tonight. You going to be okay," Eric asked softly. Panthera nodded.

"I'll be fine, Baba, I know things are getting worse ever since Mr. Morales died, but you took a lot of precautions to make sure I can defend myself if necessary. Hopefully, I can get home before it gets too late, but if not, I'll see if I could spend the night here and go home in the morning," Panthera said. Eric nodded. It wasn't the first time Panthera had spent the night at the Morales household, so either way, Eric can trust she'll be in good hands.

"Okay. Bye, baby girl, see you soon..." The girl followed her dad to the front door.

"Bye, Baba, see you later."

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

Miles awoke to the smells of rich spices and seasoned meat a few hours later. The boy blinked blearily, eyes catching sight of Panthera cooking and dancing to the music playing through his portable speaker in the kitchen. Miles sighed dreamily as he watched his little wife-

I mean girlfriend-

I MEAN, FRIEND!

Yes, friend, make herself more comfortable in his home. It seemed so natural for Panthera to be there. God, what he would give to have something like this every day...

Panthera turned around, finding Miles' sleepy grin there to greet her. She smiled.

"Hey there, sleepyhead. How are you," she cooed, walking over to the couch. The Afro-Latino immediately sat up, pulling the girl into his lap before she could try to find open space on the couch. Panthera raised a brow at this.

"Mi, I'm not a teddy bear, you know," she drawled as Miles nuzzled her neck.

"Mmm... yes, you are. You're my teddy bear," he mumbled, pressing his lips against her throat as if to imprint those words onto her skin. Panthera chuckled, trying to pull Miles out of his hiding place only for him to let out a whine of complaint. 

"Nooooooo..." She could partially feel his pout.

"C'mon, Mi, let me up. I need to double-check to see how the food's doing." As if on cue, Miles' stomach let out a loud growl. Panthera laughed freely, knowing the boy was blushing.

"C'mon, you can come with me, and we'll see if I can feed the beast from within," she teased, poking his belly. The boy let out a disgruntled grumble before releasing the girl, simpering happily as she held his hand to lead him into the kitchen. 

"Smells amazing, gatita. What're you making," Miles asked as he watched Panthera taste-test the dish.

"Injera, Doro Wat, and Gomen, it's Ethiopian Spicy Chicken Stew and Collard Greens served a Flatbread," Panthera said offhandedly, leaning into Miles' embrace when she felt his arms make themselves at home around her waist. Miles rested his head on the girl's shoulder, curious.

"Want a bite," Panthera offered. After a small nod, Panthera guided a forkful of chicken dipped in sauce into the boy's awaiting mouth. The boy let out a happy moan at the series of flavors exploding on his tongue.

"Ohmygod," he groaned, squeezing the girl. Panthera smiled at the reaction.

"Good," she asked, even though she already knew the answer.

"Mhmmmm... I'm so marrying you so I can have this for the rest of my life," he said. Panthera burst out laughing. Little did the girl know that Miles was being dead serious.

"Relax, Mi. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon. Plus, we're still years away from even thinking about that," Panthera chuckled, plating the food.

"Can you go set the table and wake up your mother? I'll finish plating everything and wash the rest of the dishes." Miles nodded, kissing Panthera's cheek before wandering off. The girl paused a bit, blushing.

'That felt... oddly romantic? I mean, we did almost kiss at his dad's party, but it's not like either of us has really made a move since then. What changed? Could Baba really be onto something here?'

Before the girl could think harder on the matter, she heard the front door open and close, hearing Aaron announcing his presence.

"Umalume! Just in time for dinner," she smiled. The older man looked surprised to see her, similar to Rio, as she groggily trailed behind her son, who immediately helped his friend set the plates on the table.

"Hello, Mrs. Morales. I hope you managed to get some rest." Rio blinked at the table arrangement before on Panthera's shy smile.

"Hello, Panthera and I did, thank you. Wh... What is all this?" Panthera's smile brightens a little.

"After you told me that your family hasn't had a real home-cooked meal since Mr. Morales' passing, I got my Baba to take me to the supermarket and brought some food prep from home to make you all something." A slow smile spread on Rio's lips as she hugged the girl.

"Oh, mija, thank you. You've been a literal angel throughout this time, and I can't be more grateful that Miles has someone like you in his corner. Muchas gracias querida." PAnthera hugged the woman back, heart full.

"Of course, Mrs. Morales. You've all been through a lot. This is the least that I can do," Panthera said. Rio pulled back, hands firmly on Panthera's shoulders as she looked the girl squarely in her eyes.

"Please, mija. Call me Rio. I meant what I said today when I said that we consider you to be family. You are family, Panthera." The girl teared up a bit but smiled, nodding her understanding.

"Okay, Rio. Now come, best to eat while it's still warm." Panthera urged the family to find a seat at the table, taking a seat by a heart-eyed Miles.

Rio and Aaron sent each other a silent look.

'She's good for him.'

'Yeah, she is.'

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

The Morales/Davis family finished dinner with full bellies and content smiles. They complimented the girl on her culinary skills, who accepted the praise with a blush. Panthera offered to take care of the dishes, which was vehemently rejected by Miles.

"You've done so much today, muñeca. Lemme do this for you." Then proceeds to kiss her cheek in front of his mother and uncle. You could cook on an egg of Panthera's face with how hot her cheeks were burning. Rio and Aaron only smiled secretly, chuckling at the two teens.

As soon as Miles was done, they all sat and chatted, occasionally laughing and joking with each other. Panthera soon looked down at her phone, staring in shock at the time.

"Bast! I didn't realize how late it was getting! I need to go home," Panthera exclaimed, standing up and patting her pockets to ensure she had everything. Miles felt his heart drop to his stomach.

Panthera squeaked when she suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap around her, pulling her into a solid chest. Miles buried his face in the crock of her neck, not caring if his mamá y tío could see him and Panthera like this.

"Miles-"

"Stay." Panthera shivered as the single word was whispered right next to her ear.

"I probably really should try-" Rio interjected.

"No, please, Panthera. Stay the night. Walking the streets alone is too dangerous, especially since crime has been increasing nearly every day." Panthera looked into the pleading eyes of Rio before turning to Aaron.

"Umalume, can't you walk me home? You know I don't live that far from you," Panthera tried. Aaron sighed.

"Sorry, lil cub, but Rio is right. I've been caught in a couple of fights just trying to get home. I don't want to risk you being caught up in that." Panthera pursed her lips in thought. It wasn't until Miles turned her around and cupped her face in his hands.

"Please, gatita. I don't want to lose another person. I can't lose another person in my life. Especially not you. You mean too much to me. Please, stay... I need you..." Damn it, if the vulnerable look in those tawny brown eyes didn't seal it for her, his words did.

"...okay, I'll stay. I'll take the guest bedroom..." Panthera's question trailed off when she noticed the semi-sheepish look on Aaron's face.

"Sorry, Panthera, but I've kinda been using it." The girl smiled at the man, silently reassuring him. 

"No worries then, I could take the couch-"

"No, the heck you not!"

"Absolutely not, mija!"

The girl looked at mother and son with an exasperated expression.

"Then what do you suggest," she huffed. Miles was quick to respond.

"You could sleep in my room. It's not like you haven't done so before." Panthera glanced at Rio, silently asking if that was okay. Rio smiled and nodded.

"Just keep the door open, you two~!"

"RIO!" "MAMÁ, PLEASE!"

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

After a quick and embarrassing escape, a change of clothes, and a quick night routine, Panthera and Miles lay side by side in the dark room. Miles, in his wife beater and gym shorts, couldn't help but admire Panthera in his clothes.

He gave her one of his old t-shirts that swallowed her frame, reaching her thighs. She rejected the shorts he tried giving her, claiming too much clothing makes it harder for her to sleep at night. He didn't put up much of a fight, finding the view she provided quite enticing. He wanted nothing more but to reach out and caress those brown thighs...

"You can come closer, you know," he quietly stated, drawing random shapes on her arm. Panthera blushed.

"You sure? Wouldn't that seem..." The boy raised a brow, waiting for the girl to finish her sentence.

"Intimate?" The boy blinked before giving a little shrug.

"I mean... it would. But I wouldn't mind that... do you?" Panthera chewed on her bottom lip, mulling over her answer.

"I... I don't mind either..." Miles smiled, tugging on the girl's waist to pull her closer. The boy even went as far as to rest one of her legs on his hip.

"Mmm, comfy," Miles asked, finding Panthera's eyes in the dark. The girl nodded, unable to get her voice to work without it coming out as a high pitch squeak. Miles chuckled, kissing her forehead.

"Heh, so freaking cute. Goodnight, gatita. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight, Mi. Sweet dreams..."

The pair managed to doze off into a comfortable slumber.

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

Miles stared at the beauty sitting next to him. The pair was out on top of one of the building's rooftops. The moon was out tonight, ethereal light bathing the girl in a breathtaking glow. He could see the stars twinkling in her eyes, creating a new galaxy in those dark orbs. Panthera glanced at him, noting the dazed look in Miles's eyes.

"What are you looking at, Mi," she teased good-naturely, ignoring the warmth feeling flooding her cheeks.

"You, princesa," Miles answered easily, scooting closer to the girl. He took note of the confused blink he received as he cupped her cheek.

"God, you're so beautiful, Panthera. How are you even real," Miles whispered, looking into her galaxy-decorated eyes. The girl's eyes began to cross as Miles approached her face.

"Mi...?" A shiver escaped the boy. He always loved the way that nickname sounded coming from her.

"I love you, Panthera. Te amo tanto, mi vida," Miles sighed, leaning in for a long-awaited kiss...

Only to be shoved away at the last second.

Miles' furrowed expression turned into one of fear. The disgusted look on Panthera's face, the cold look in her eyes.

"What the hell, Miles?! I don't love you like that." His heart shuddered to a stop.

"Wh-what?" The girl stood, backing away from him.

"Why would I ever love someone as needy and broken as you? Be so for real, Morales. I don't want your deranged love. Keep that shit to your fucking self." Panthera turned on her heel and ran inside the building.

"Panthera, wait! I'm sorry, please!" The boy chased after her, heart aching as she remained out of reach. The staircase seemed to go on forever as he tried racing down them.

"Leave me alone, Miles!" 

"No, gatita, please! Don't leave me, don't leave me!" Tears ran down the boy's cheeks in ragged streaks, losing sight of her. The boy took a harsh tumble as he accidentally stepped on his untied shoelaces. After an eternity of rolling, the boy reached the bottom of the staircase. He could see the exit just meters away—the door was left wide open, blowing in the seductive scent of his beloved. Miles stared into nothingness. The aches and pains going off in different parts of his body were nothing compared to the gaping hole in his chest.

He curled into himself and sobbed.

"Panthera, mi amor, mi vida... Vuelve, por favor. Te amo. Lo lamento, Lo lamento..." He begged and cried. Silently pleading for the girl to hear his cries and come through that door. To hold him and say she was sorry. That she didn't mean any of her cruel words and will never leave him...

That she will always love him.

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

"...les... Mil... Mi, wake up! You're having a nightmare. Wake up, please..." Miles let out a tired moan, his swollen eyes struggling to open. His eyes struggled to focus, but slowly, he could see and worried and frantic Panthera straddling him. 

"P... Panthera," he croaked, his voice thick with sleep and unshed tears. He watched as her face morphed into one of relief.

"Oh, thank Bast, you scared me, Mi! I just slipped out to use the bathroom, and when I came back, you were shaking and crying in your sleep. You were speaking in Spanish, but you sounded so hurt, Mi," Panthera whispered frantically. She didn't want to wake Aaron or Rio with their conversation. Miles shuddered at the lingering memory of his dream, wrapping his arms around the girl, hugging her tight.

"I'm sorry I scared you, Panthera," he weakly apologized, snuggling closer to the girl's warmth. Panthera returned the embrace, running her fingers over the week-old stitch pattern of the boy's braids.

"Shhh, it's okay, Mi. I'm here, I promise," she whispered. He looked into her dark brown eyes, seeing their familiar warmth.

"Really," he asked in a small voice. As much as Miles didn't want to admit it, that dream scared him just as much as he had seen his dad's broken body on the news. The strong potential of losing someone close to his heart scared him. 

He loves the girl. He would move heaven and Earth to keep her in his life. 

He needed to know that she'll stay.

"Of course, I promise. I love you, Mi." Miles let out a shaky breath when he felt those full lips press against his clammy forehead. God, he wanna bask in this moment forever...

"I love you too, Panthera..." Miles couldn't help himself. He kissed her clothed chest, right where her heart was. Panthera allowed herself to be maneuvered to Miles' comfort. She laid on her back with his head on her chest; his ear pressed against it to hear her heartbeat. Miles' long body was nicely accommodated by the softness of Panthera's thighs over his hips. The featherlight touch over his hair and eyes coaxed the boy into a peaceful slumber.

Panthera watched as the boy slipped back into unconsciousness, her mind wired.

She wasn't expecting such a drastic reaction when she returned from using the bathroom. Miles was sleeping so peacefully when she left...

She also didn't tell Miles she heard her saying her name. She had an okay understanding of his mother tongue and could help but blush at the parts she did understand.

'Panthera, my love... please... I love you...'

She wasn't entirely sure what Miles was begging for, but whatever the dream version of her did left him with an empty, scared, and heartbroken look in his tired eyes.

Something about that look unsettled her. She never wanted to be the cause of that look; she loved Miles. She wanted him to be happy...

The girl let out a tired sigh.

'Sleepy, sleepy...'

She looked down at the boy sleeping on her chest and bit her lip.

As carefully as she could, she tilted the boy's head up. She watched fondly as his face unconsciously scrunched up and let out a whine at being moved. Only to be silenced when she gently pecked his lips. She had to suppress an amused giggle when a dopey smile crossed his face, and he snuggled up to her.

"Goodnight, Mi..."

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

The rest of the year was very busy for Miles. When Panthera left that morning to go back home, and his mom went to take a shift at the hospital, he spoke to his Uncle Aaron about his "business dealings."

"Miles, I don't think it'll be a good idea-"

"Tío, please. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important to me. I want to be able to protect the people I love. What if papá wasn't enough for them? What if they manage to get to mamá or even Panthera? I can't lose anyone, Uncle Aaron, I can't. I won't let those bastards get away with what they've done to my family."

"...alright, kid. Lemme take care of a few things first, and we can start...."

It took a couple of months of training and remodeling a suit, but soon Brooklyn had a new Prowler. 

The newcomer was just as good as his predecessor, if not better. And he was always in high demand.

Miles was proud of the name he had created for himself in the crime underworld. The business was doing well, so he could support his mother at home and at her job. With the extra bonuses he and his uncle received, he would save most of it, spend a little on himself, and hopefully soon, on his precious gatita.

With it being their junior year and his new mantle as Prowler, Miles had difficulty spending time with her outside of school. He missed the days when they would spend their days together, whether they drew in their respective sketchbooks or curled up on his couch watching "Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron" for the 50th time (it was Panthera's favorite movie, he wasn't going to deny his precious kitten anything). 

The last time they spent real time together (like for more than an hour) was toward the end of summer. School was supposed to start in less than two weeks, and Miles was still training but was about to take up his first assignment as the Prowler in just a few days. Miles had stopped by Panthera's apartment to ask her to come tagging with him. What resulted from that was a mural of his father. He remembers staring up at the smiling face of his papá. At that point, it's been over a month and a half since Jeff died. He wanted a physical reminder of what he was doing this for...

The comforting feeling of having Panthera's arms around his waist warmed his chest. Her words rang sweetly in his ears.

"Whatever you do, I know your dad would be proud of you, Miles. You will always be his pride and joy..." Miles allowed his hand to find hers, intertwining against his stomach.

"Thank you, Panthera... it means more than you know..."

In the months since then, the two would spend time in class, studying, or spending a rare Saturday together. Despite their limited time together, Panthera could clearly see the difference in Miles. The coldness in his stare. His aloofness to the majority of their classmates around him. The silent, almost predatory vibe in his stance and walk. 

He morphed from the Summer Child she knew from their freshmen and sophomore year until a Winter Soldier.

Their classmates had noticed this, some choosing to stay out of the boy's way while others flocked to him, finding this change cool and finally worthy of their attention. Guys soon began calling him their homeboy, while girls batted their eyes at him with flirtatious grins on their glossy lips.

Miles remained indifferent to this attention. Only seeking the attention of one person.

Panthera.

He knew his precious kitten never liked having so many eyes on her, and ever since he became "popular," he was hardly alone. There were a few moments when he could snag her away for a few minutes of solitude. Panthera would always find herself in the boy's lap. His arms circled around to keep her close. He would normally find his face buried in her neck or resting on her chest to listen to her heartbeat.

She was his small piece of heaven.

Miles had found his eyes straying to the couples in the halls during passing or in the lunchroom. Often times imagining himself and Panthera in the same setting. His mamá y tío have been waiting for him to finally take the leap of fate and ask her to be his, officially. 

He decided their junior year would be the start of their love story.

Neither of them anticipated how bloody of a start it would be...

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

CLIFFHANGERRRRR! Sorry not sorry lol. P.S. I know the font with Miles' dream is off, I honest to God don't know what Tumblr is on.

Dedicated to @444morales and @l0v3morales

Translations:

~Spanish~

Mija : Darling

Te quiero... te quiero mucho papá : I love you… I love you so much dad

Muchas gracias querida : Thank you so much dear

muñeca : doll

Te amo tanto, mi vida : I love you so much my life

Panthera, mi amor, mi vida... Vuelve, por favor. Te amo. Lo lamento, Lo lamento... : Panthera, my love, my life… Come back, please. I love you. I'm sorry, I'm sorry…

-Xhosa-

Phumla ngoku, joni : Rest now, soldier

Enkosi ngenkonzo yakho... siyakuthanda : Thank you for your service… we love you

inkosazana yam encinci : my little princess

Baba : Father

Ndiyakuthandana : I love you

Nam ndiyakuthanda... : I love you too...

Umalume : Uncle

#across the spiderverse #atsv #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 oc #earth 42 miles x oc #panthera stevens #spiderman across the spiderverse #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 rio morales #rio morales #earth 42 jefferson davis #jefferson davis #earth 42 aaron davis #aaron davis #earth 42 eric stevens #eric stevens #crossover au #black panther references #rip chadwick boseman #hurt/comfort #his sunshine in the darkness part two #his sunshine in the darkness #miles g morales #spotify #Spotify #yandere #pre-yandere #Yandere!Miles42 AU

[nobodygetsza]

𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖯𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖨𝖨

〘 Lҽxιʂ Mαƙιαԋ Aʂ Sԋαɳιყαԋ Rσʂʂ 〙

〘 Mҽʅʋιɳ Hσʅʅαɳԃ Jɾ Aʂ JαႦαɾι Sιɱɱσɳʂ 〙

． ＊ ꙳ ✦ ⊹ＦＥＡＴＵＲＩＮＧ...

〘 Rҽɠιɳα Kιɳɠ Aʂ Tαɳια Cαɱҽɾσɳ 〙

〘 Mσɾɾιʂ Cԋҽʂƚɳυƚ Aʂ Mιƈԋαҽʅ Cαɱҽɾσɳ 〙

〘 Qυҽɳιʂԋα Qιαɳα Aʂ Aʋαɳι Mαɾƚιɳҽȥ 〙

〘 Cԋɾιʂƚιɳα Hҽɳԃɾιƈƙʂ Aʂ Bҽƚԋ Bσʅαɳԃ 〙

〘 Mαҽ Wԋιƚɱαɳ Aʂ Aɳɳιҽ Mαɾƙʂ 〙

〘 Rҽƚƚα Aʂ RυႦყ Hιʅʅ 〙

#my writings #rio good girls #rio fanfic #rio x black!reader #rio x oc!reader

[floydsglasses]

𝙒𝙖𝙮 𝙊𝙪𝙩 𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 - Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia (A Quiet Place AU)

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x AFAB Black!OC/Jasmine

SUMMARY: Monster's aren't the only thing that survivors of the quiet world have to worry about now, the people though they are hunted are the biggest threat of all. Two survivor's out of options agree to help each get out of the vacant city to safety.

Tags: Mention of blood/wounds, post apocalyptic setting, use of ASL, Alien creatures. Drug Use,mentions of death, Stranger's to lovers, Implied Smut, Angst, Swearing, Fluff,

A/N: I based this loosely off the Lord Huron Song, Way Out There, check it out when you can its so good.

WORD COUNT: HAVENT COUNTED

⏁⏁⏁

ALONE,That’s how he felt. Everything was gone and he is one out of many survivors, sometimes he thinks he is the last survivor. He will be walking through an abandoned neighborhood, seeing the ruined car’s and nature taking over it will make him miss everything he had taken for granted, and being able to make a sound.

He missed people, talking to them. He was a person who thrived off social interactions. Always finding a way to include people in the conversation even if it was a small conversation. The only thing he talked with now was the voice in his head, which sometime’s was loud enough that it made him think that it was someone there.

He had no real plan, he just wanted to make it to the next sunrise. Having been living in anywhere that seemed stable till he got bored or had to move. It was lonely spending each day wondering and not having any idea of what to do.

Today was a ‘moving day’. He left a motel six he had been walking since the sun had risen, he thought it would be nice to try and live in one of the high rise’s by the marina. He passed the turned over car’s, vine’s growing into the tire’s and out of the engine.

That was a nice car, he thinks. He bet if he went back to the naval base the F18’s will be overgrown with nature. He looked down sadly, he missed his job, and his RIO. His flat shoes crunched softly, the bottom’s worn out from the use.

CLINK!

He stopped, his hand resting over his knife holster. His brown eyes scanned around him, his heart racing in his ear’s searching for the cause of the sound.

CLINK! He panted as he ran to the other side of an overturned car, his back pressed firmly against the hood of the car, he unsheathed his blade from his leather holster. He inhaled deeply to slow his heart rate. The clinking noise came again.

He bit his lip, hoping that whatever made the noise stopped soon. He didn't know what exact noise the monster’s didn't like. He licked his lip’s gulping. A few minutes later, the noise had gone away at least he thought.

He stepped on the sidewalk, continuing his walk past abandoned shop’s and firm’s, not sure which part of San Diego he was in. He could see some factorie’s, he guessed that he was close to the sea from the gull’s crying.

A sharp pain shot throughout his entire body. He gasped as he fell back into the brick wall, clutching his shoulder, he pant’s stifling a scream that desperately wanted to leave his mouth. He snapped his head, a short black stick with a neon green end stuck out of his shoulder.

“Shit.” He mouthed.

CLINK, he snapped looking up. Two men wearing bandanas covering their faces carrying crossbows in their hand’s look at him. He grunted holding his shoulder as he started to run.

The tip of the arrow dug deep into him as he bolted, their footsteps not far behind him. His backpack weighed him down, slowing his escape from the masked figure. What did they want from him?

He turned a corner down an alleyway. He gasped as he forced against something, a clothed hand clamped down over his mouth, he grunted against the stranger’s hold on him. Stop it, they whispered.

His shoulder ached as he moved his arm’s. A cold metal touched his temple, his brown eyes widened at the circular pressure against his forehead, the stranger's grip on his mouth tightened as the two men ran past.

The warm body of the person behind him warmed his back, what were they gonna do with the gun? Shoot him, or shoot up leaving him as monster bait. The stranger grunted as they removed the cold metal from his forehead, their hand clamped tight over his mouth.

They leaned to their left moving him with them, their free hand gripped a glass bottle tossing it down the alleyway with a shatter. His eye’s widen as a inhuman roar filled the air. Sorry for this, the stranger whispered in his ear before his world turned dark.

⏁⏁⏁

A MUFFLED sound filled his ears. He groaned softly as his eye’s slowly opened, his arm still ached with a sharp pain. He could make out he was surrounded by brick’s, a factory-like place. He grunt’s softly grabbing at his shoulders. 

“Shit thought you were out longer.” A voice grumbled in a whisper. He pant’s in fear as he move’s his arms, a hand stops him.

“Don't move.” They whisper to him, he grabs at their hand. Their face covered by a floral bandana, their hair tucked inside of a baseball cap. Their brown eyes being the only part visible to him.

“Ow.” A female voice muffled by the cover say’s. 

He raised his brows. “How?” He signed, she pointed up at the ceiling.

“Three foot concrete they cant hear.” She signed her motion’s fast, he only knew basic asl. 

“What?” He signed, she shook her head.

“They can't hear,we are too far underground.” She whispered to him, she moved his jacket sleeve off his arm. He furrowed his brow. 

“What are you doing?” He whispered, she didn't answer. He shook his head irritated, his finger’s pulled down her bandana. Her eyes widened at him.

She glared at him as he stared at her for a moment. He hadn't seen another person in so long it was comforting to see someone, especially someone as pretty, what he did not expect was the look of anger. 

“Am I gonna have to handcuff you?” She fumed, she pulled his hand away from her.

“Sorry.” He apologized, she pulled out a needle,thread, alcohol,. 

“What are you doing?” He asked her again, and she looked up at him. “Sewing you up.” She says bluntly, she leaned over grabbing a white rag, his hand pat around his shoulder where the arrow used to be. 

“You removed it?” He asked her. She shrugged, soaking the rubbing alcohol into the rag. 

“Yeah now I'm gonna have to sew you back up.” She  tells him. His brown eyes widen in fear.

“What.wha sew me up?” He stammered. 

“Yes, Unless you would prefer to bleed out.” She joked with a dry laugh, he shook his head. She grumbled under breath, she at him. 

“You don't happen to have vodka on you, do you?” The girl asks him.

“What?” He said, confused, she shook her hand. “What about bleach?” She ask’s. He shook his head. 

“No, What are you talking about?” He wonder’s, she bit her lip, she poured the alcohol into a plastic butter container.

“I'm almost out of alcohol so look’s like I'm using the rest on you.” She says to him. 

She set the thread in the liquid, leaning over to him. “Can you roll this out of the way?” She asks him, gesturing to his gray long sleeve shirt. 

“You want me to do it for you?”She wondered. He shook his head. He groaned as he slowly pulled his sleeve down, lifting it up over his head, his black curl’s falling back down. She flicked on her bright pink lighter with a duck on the side. 

She removed the sewing needle from her bag, moving the flame under her needle. “What are you doing?” He asked, his heart racing. 

“Sterilizing it.” She state’s, he leaned back. He wasn't sure what he was even laying on, just that it was safe for him to talk.  “If blood loss doesn't kill you, infection will.” 

“No offense but.” He gulped as she threaded the needle. The sharp end made his heart drop to his stomach. 

“Your bedside manner suck’s.” He chuckled weakly, she rolled her eye’s. “My exe’s might think differently.” She mumbled under her breath, she got on her knees to his side. 

She inhaled deeply.”I'm gonna tell you now this is not gonna be pretty.” She warns him, he nodded his head. 

“You can hold my hand if you want.” She suggests to him, he whipped his head looking at her. She picked up his shirt, wrapping it tightly and handing it back to him.

“Bite down on this.” The girl ordered him. He pants, taking it from her, putting the gray henley in his mouth, gritting his teeth against it. She grabbed the warm needle hovering over his wound. 

“Take a deep breath.” She says, she closed her eyes as she prepared herself. She winced as she began to thread through his skin. He screamed in agony, his cries muffled from the cloth against his mouth. 

Hot tears escaped his eyes flowing down his face,she winced at the man in pain. His finger’s gripped against her free arm as she continued to work to patch him up. 

⏁⏁⏁

HE PANTED, staring at the concrete above him. The pain in his shoulder diminished thankfully, though he could still feel it. She walked between the wood table set against the wall, she pulls out a shirt from her milk crate. She walked back over to him.

“Should fit.” She tells him, lightly tossing him a dark green henley shirt. He grabbed at it, slowly sitting up against the carseat, he groaned pulling the shirt over his head, being mindful of his patched up wound.

“Who were those guy’s?” Mickey wonder’s, she pulls her plaid shirt close to herself.

“San Diego bandits.” She answers. He furrowed his brow’s. “Who?” he ask’s.

She sighed irritated. “You don't know do you?” She says, she crossed her arms turning around to look at him.

“Their a group of radical’s killing anyone in the city who makes a sound.” She explained to him, he raised a brow. “Why would they do that?” He wondered, she shook her head.

“Because they think that by silencing anyone, they are appeasing god and that he will take the monster’s back.” She explained.

“So that’s why they tried to kill me, to stop me from making noise?” He ask’s her, she shrugged.

“That or they were gonna auction you off.” She says, his heart dropped. “Auction me? Like fucking cattle?” He ask’s, she shrugs.

“In a way, yes.” She answered. She puts her hand on her hip’s. “Some people they keep alive, other’s they drag out, and leave them as a sacrifice.” She explains.

He shook his head. “How do you know so much about them?” He wonder’s

“Because I used to be one of them.” She tells him. She sighed leaning back. “That was two months ago.” She clarifies. His brows furrowed.

“I've been in the city for two years, and never met them.” He tells her, and she shrugged again.

“They did not form till a year ago, and they didn't become violent till six months ago.” She informs him. He shook his head in shock. He was lucky they hadn't found him yet. They could have killed him at any chance.

“And I have some bad news for you.” She speaks up. He looked at her, she inhaled through her nose. “This thing isn't over for you.” She tells him.

“What? What are you talking about?” He ask’s her.

“When they dont silence someone, they will do everything they can to make sure you don't come back.” The girl explained to him, he ran his fingers through his curly black hair, his heart began to race.

“Are you serious?” He ask’s her, she nodded. He swore under his breath as he began to pace back and forth. “But.” She started, he crossed his arms looking at her, not expecting something good.

“I won't let them get to you…if you help me.” She says to him. His mouth parted agape. “Is that why you saved me?!” He wondered, he took a step forward.

“Just because you need someone to help you?” Mickey ask’s, she shakes her head.

“I saved you because I'm not an asshole.” She state’s bluntly.

“Really?” He says with a brow raised. “So you holding a gun to my head makes you less of one.” He remark’s rolling his eyes. Her jaw dropped, shaking her head.

“You mean me holding a car lighter to your head.''The woman tells him. She shook her head again.

“Baby the closest I have ever gotten to being violent with another human was when I held my hand over your mouth.” She declared, he wiped his mouth, regretting his choice of words.

“Look if you wanna go back out into that city and risk the chance of actually losing your life.” She sneered, she gestured up. “Be my guest.”

She step’s forward, her eye’s darkened as she glared at him. “But if you wanna get out of this god forsaken city..then you will help me.” She stated.

He takes a deep breath, collecting himself. “Fine.” He conceded.

“Okay then.” She smirked, she turned around grabbing a small blue book in bold font, San Diego County Map, tabbed with different colors. She placed the book on top of metal table.

“A month ago, I went down to the old coast guard sector, I tried to get on one of their boat’s to work.” She explains opening the small book, opening a map part of the book, pointing at the word’s in sharpie.

“As you can see it clearly didn't work, and I sure as shit dont know the first thing about fixing boat’s.” She admit’s with a weak laugh. “And what makes you think I know how to fix a boat?” Mickey wonder’s.

She reached into her front pocket, a jingling of metal peaked his interest. From her finger’s dangled a chain with a small metal plate at the bottom. He held out his palm as she placed the cold misc on it.

He turned the plate over, reading. Mickey Garcia, Fanboy. US NAVY.He looked at her in shock. “You went through my bag?!” He exclaimed in anger, she shook her head.

“It fell off your bag.” She says, she shook her hand. “You were in the military? So you have some type of knowledge about mechanic’s right?” The girl wonder’s.

He stammered for a moment. “I mean yes, I flew onto boat’s I didn't.” He stuttered, she shook her head.

“Yes or no, can you help me?” She asks him. He sighed, rolling his eyes. “Yes I can help you.” He tells her, her lips formed a thin line.

She extends her hand out. “Shake on it.” She ordered.

“I always shook hands with client’s, it's a sign of trust.” She explains to him, he nods his hand. Gripping her hand in a hand shake. “You have a name?” She ask’s. His brow rose.

“Don't you already know it?” He wonder’s, she shrugged. “I do but you should tell me it yourself.” She admits.

“Mickey.” He tells her. She smirked, impressed. “Jasmine, my friend’s called me J.J.” She says to him, she takes her cap off her head, her curly pixie cut shaking it off.

“I'll take you to the depot in the morning, it's about a three mile walk.” She list’s off to him, she bent down to the plastic crate by her legs pulling out a can of beefaroni. “I'm gonna heat this up,and you.” she points at him.

She rummaged through her pink crate, pulling out a red book. She grunt’s tossing it over to him. He read the title. Sign Language for Everyone: Basic Course.

“There is a safety shower in that back corner, it has only one setting that is lukewarm, I have another hammock you can set up.” JJ tell’s him.

“Oh I don't wanna be a bother.” He told her, and she shook her head.

“Trust me you dont wanna sleep on that seat.” JJ say’s to him. “Okay then.” He says, she smirked turning around, grabbing a chisel popping the can open.

⏁⏁⏁

THE BOAT gently rocked back and forth. She sat at the back of the response boat, gripping her large knife. She covered her face with the bandana again, her short curly hair hidden away in her green baseball cap.

Her brown eyes scanned all over for any threats. Conversation between the two was limited, only because he didn't know ASL as well as she did, and that he was busy fixing up the mistake she had made with the boat.

When she first found it she had tried to find the owner’s manual, she guessed the military didn't leave that out in the open. She sighed bored, she claimed she was an introvert, she usually preferred the comfort of her underground fortress.

Even before the world ended she was happy to be left alone in her crowded apartment. There were point’s where she practically thrived off of how quiet things were now, before the world was to be overrun with noise.

Now actually talking with someone after so long, made her think. A soft grunt’s pull’s her out of her thought’s. She looked up at him, his curly black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail.

“How is it?” She signed fast. His lips parted as he thought of what she might have said. She shook her head standing up carefully getting up walking inside the cabin. She grunted unhooking a whiteboard.

Day’s without an incident, 28 days. She quickly wiped away the black dry erase getting on her purple windbreaker.

“How is it?” She write’s down, he nodded his head taking it from her, wiping away her previous words.

“Should be fine. Some parts are missing though, do you know where I can get parts?” He asked her, and she bring;s out her book from her jeans pocket. Flipping through finding a directory.

She takes the whiteboard from him. “There’s a hardware store one mile up the road.” She tells. She pretends to write on her arm.

“Make a list.” She sign’s, he nodded his head understanding, he took the whiteboard from her, holding it back up.

“Did you break something in there?” He ask’s.

Her eyes widened, embarrassed. She leaned over taking it from him. “I got mad and kicked the panel.” She write’s.

He covered his mouth to stifle his laugh, She rolled her eyes at him. “I'm sorry.” He signed to her, she shrugged.

“What did you do before this?” He asks on the whiteboard. She smirked, taking from him, drawing a stick figure of a man with a gavel and robe.

“You were a judge?” He write’s.

She shook her head. “Lawyer.” She corrects him. He nodded his head, so that’s what she meant when she said client’s. He thinks’.

“What were you?” She asks him, he smirks, taking the whiteboard from her. “Fighter Pilot.” He tells her, she nodded impressed.

“Have you ever shot a plane down?” JJ asked him, he took the board from her quickly writing down. “I have.”

“How did you get the name ‘’Fanboy’?” She wonder’s, he rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the cabin of the boat.

He take’s the whiteboard from her. “I will tell you later, I can't explain this way.” He says, she shrugged.

“Cool, are you almost done for the day?” She asks him, he leaned back thinking. “A few more checks, should be good.” He write’s.

“Get to it.” She signed, he furrowed his brow at her signing.

She sat up pointing to the cabin again, he nodded his head standing up walking back inside. She sighed again. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of his henley slowly moving with his muscle’s. She cleared her thoughts quickly looking away.

⏁⏁⏁

THE BIT OF stray sunlight shines above the steel mill, the small amount of lights dim lit the basement. She marked off on her notebook, sitting on the bottom half of a bucket. She kept a mental note of which tool she would have to take with them tomorrow.

He laid down on the car seat, boredly reading through his ASL book. He had at least memorized ten word’s, the silence air between the both of them was gnawing at him. She wasn't the most talkative person, he could tell.

He sighed loudly. She shook her head, as she returned her attention to her writing. He dropped the book on his chest, dropping his head looking at her. She drops her pencil, turning around looking at him.

“Alright pretty brown eyes, what do you want?” JJ teases him. He resists a smirk at her nickname, he sits up closing his book.

“I'm bored.” He says bluntly.

She shrugged. “Find something to do.” She gesture’s around, he shakes his head.

“Do what? I don't know what this place is,or even who you are.” He point’s out, she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Look I just..want something to do, and I will leave you alone till then.” He proposed.

Her brows furrowed as she thought. She sighed defeated. “Fine, you want something to do?” She repeated his answer, he nodded.

“Follow me.” She orders him, standing up quickly at a fast pace down the hall.

“Come on pretty boy.” She urged, he got to his feet following her down a hallway. She unclipped the flashlight from the wall as the light from above faded away. She pulled her arm’s closer to herself as they kept walking.

“So what is this place?” He asked her, she inhaled.

“Ryan & Edward’s steel mill, founded in 1939, at the tail end of the depression when World War || was starting.” Jasmine explained to him.

“Ran until 1988, Steel Crisis shut them down for good, and it didn't help that the place was a walking death trap at point’s.” She explains, he nodded listening to her smooth voice. She stops at a room with cabinet file’s and a desk.

“If it’s such a death trap why are you here?” Mickey wonder’s leaning against the door frame. She chuckled weakly.

“I don't think I really care if inhaled spores kill me, it would be better than..well you know.” Jasmine admit’s, she shivered as she walked in the office.

She walked over to the desk, pulling on the cabinet with a tug. She grunted, it didn't budge. She peaked over the desk.

“Can you help over here?” She asked him, he dropped his arm’s getting next to her, his grip on the desk handle tight.

“Ready?” He asked. The both of them grunt in effort, the draw came unloose. She stumbled back against him, she put her hand against his chest stopping herself, she cleared her throat turning around, getting on her knees digging through.

“What are we looking for?” Mickey ask’s, she holds the flashlight in her mouth, mumbling to him.

“What?” He ask’s, she rolled her eyes pulling it out.

She wiped the back off, handing the tool to him. “I came in here a month ago, it was late and found these old journal’s down here.” Jasmine tell’s him.

“I found a lot of thing’s down here too, kid’s used this place as a hangout so there is stuff littered here from each decade.” She explains to him, her arm’s covered in goosebumps as she rummages through the drawer.

“Look in one of those file cabinets, you can find some old stuff.” She tells him, he nodded his head, he easily opened it digginging through the past.

“You don't mind me asking.” He speaks up, he looked over his shoulder at her.

“How do you know so much about this place?” He wonder’s.

“Well on top of being a partner with a law firm, I had to study up on lawsuit’s.” She recall’s to him, he furrowed his brow.

“What happened here then?” He asked.

“Funny enough, it was a guy smoking, and reading a porno magazine on his break, he fell over the railing breaking his leg, and he sued his foreman.” She tells him, he shook his head with a smirk.

“That is so dumb, how did it end?” He ask’s, she shrugged again. “They settled out of court for 6, 000, which in the 1950's was a lot I guess.” She chuckled.

She pulled out a bundle of photos, and a journal. “Find anything?” She asked him.

“Old magazine’s, couple photos and…. no way.” He gasped in surprise, he pulled out a plastic baggy with green twigs and dirt, she raised a brow as he smiled in excitement.

“How old do you think that is?” Jasmine ask’s him. He flipped the bag examining it. “I don't know.” He is excited.

“You wanna find out?” He challenged, she shook her head, his shoulder’s slump.

“Oh come on, please.” He pleaded with her.

“It's probably not even good.” She tells him. He steps forward, a cockeyed smile at the edge of his lip’s. “Won't know till we try it.” He says.

“Oh so it’s we now?” She wonder’s. He shrugged, with a soft grin. She inhaled looking away from his stare.

“Okay, if I find paper, we can roll one.” She tells him, he smirks. She turned around, opening the sliding desk top. Basic supply’s of an office, a rectangular object catches her attention.

“Huh?” She says out loud. Mickey raised a brow.

“What is it?” He wonder’s leaning against the filing cabinet, she holds it up. On the paper line of the tape written in faded marker. Hollywood’s Classic Mix, and some more. she smirked.

“I found a radio.” She says to him.

Oh fuck yeah.” He agreed, she chuckled softly at his excitement. He walked out of the room with an extra step in his pace. She picked up the journal and photos following him out of the room.

⏁⏁⏁

THE TWO OF them laughed, after she had cooked up an old can of beef broth with carrots, the both of them rolled a joint sharing it. She scrunched her nose as she slowly inhaled the plant, she no doubt knew it was gonna stink up the space they occupied with their cots. 

“Ugh this stuff suck’s.” Jasmine coughed, leaning over handing it back to him. He chuckled at her reaction. 

“So where are you from?” Mickey asked her, she chuckled looking down at her feet in her Tom’s.

“West Virginia.” She answered. He nodded his head. 

“Alright, how does a girl from West Virginia get in a place like this?” He teased, she smirked, she messed with the coils at the back of her neck. 

“My parents.” She says. 

“Were they lawyer’s too?” He wondered, she shook her head. “Mom was a doctor, Dad was an auto mechanic.” She tells him 

“Yeah really broke the mold on that one.” She remark’s, he inhaled the joint. Coughing holding his chest as he handed it back to her. 

“What about you, pretty boy? Where are you from?” JJ asked him, he smirked. 

“Florida.” He answered. She scoffed. “Not surprising.” She tells him. He raised a brow. 

“What does that mean?” He wonder’s, she shrugged. “You seem like the kind of person who lived in ‘Happier State’.” She states. He smirked, his cheek’s growing warm. 

“Right there.” She point’s, his smirk turned into a grin at teasing.

“What?” He ask’s between his laughs. 

“That..that..your million dollar smile, like how do you do that?” She wonder’s, her lips parted trying to stop her smile. 

“The world has ended, and you still are smiling like everything is good.” She admits. 

He shrugged. “I don't know..I just always smile.” Mickey guessed, she shook her head. 

“They may have taken our sound..but they can't take away our smile’s.” He state’s, he chuckled lightly. 

The soft glow from the barrel fire illuminated an orange hue on his face, his teeth practically shining in the light. Her lip’s formed a soft smile as she gazed on him, on his face she could see smile lines at the edge of his lip’s. 

She looked down. “You're kind of right on that one.” She mumbled, she inhaled on the joint again letting out the same cough.

She leaned over the car seat to him, giving him the joint. She shivered, bringing her arm’s closer to herself. It was March outside, the cool would creep down on some night’s from the shaft above that gave access to the soundproof basement. 

She gasps from surprise at the sudden feeling of someone hand on her skin, goosebumps flooding her arm’s as warm cloth wrapped around her. On both of her shoulders, a navy blue zipper jacket laid unzipped. She glanced at him, he smiled softly.

“Thank you.” She whispers while signing to him. He moved hand back and forward, and away from his chest. Jasmine smirked impressively at the man.  Your Welcome

“Your signing is better.” She commented, he looked away as his face no doubt became redder at her complimenting. He looked down at the joint in his hand. 

“Are you even feeling anything from this thing?” He wondered, looking at her brown eyes, she looked down at herself. She shook her head.

“80’s weed sucks.” He remarked, he tossed it into the fire. 

The both of them leaned back in the car seat, the soft sound of the fire cracking blending with music that slowly played from a radio beside her feet. She closed her eye’s, she fought against the tiredness in her body desperately, she couldn't sleep, she needed to take watch. 

“Fuck.” She mumbles, rubbing her eye’s. He glanced at her, the warm light bringing out her dark features. “What?” He whispered. 

She shook her head.  “I'm trying not to sleep.” JJ admits her voice is quiet.

“Why?” He whispered, she looked over at him. Her dark brown eyes soften.

“I’m supposed to be on watch, remember to protect you.” She tells him, he sits up. 

“You can sleep, I’ll take the first watch.”Mickey reasure’s her, she shook her head.

“No, you're my responsibility.” JJ state’s, his heart skipped a beat at her determination. 

He shook his head. “Well you can't protect me if you are tired.” Mickey chuckled, she shook her head no again. 

“I'll be fine.” She reassured him, stubborn. She stands up to her feet, walking past him. “Jasmine.”

He says, his calloused hand reaching out grabbing her wrist. Her stomach went wild at the warm contact from his hand, his touch gentle as he looked up at her. 

"Sorry.” He apologized, her breath hitched in her throat as she looked at him.

“You've done enough..just sleep.” He says to her in a whisper. Her heart began to race as he pleaded with her, his soft brown eyes practically beginning to concede. She pant’s nodding her head. 

“Okay.” She says. She grabs at the jacket around her shoulder, handing it to him.

“No, you take it for tonight.” He assured her. She smiled softly. 

“Um..good night then.”JJ say’s to him, tripping on her word’s. She walks away slipping her arm’s through the hole’s of the dark clothing item. She lays on her cot that is laid across from his, she brings her nose to the navy fabric of the jacket.  

Deeply inhaling the scent, she could smell hints of the earthy and bit’s of what she thought was apple, she smirked against the cloth as she nuzzled herself into her sleeping bag. Her mind raced with many thoughts.

⏁⏁⏁

SHE STUCK her arm out bored as she walked along the dock. The last two days she had been playing guard to him as he fixed the coast guard boat. She was also doing the most she could to not share the same room with him for as much as she could.

She had been wrestling with herself over the obvious crush that was forming. She knew exactly why she was growing feelings so fast and she hated it. The world had ended and she had been starved of human contact for so long, and clearly anyone who was as lonely as she was would enjoy the company of someone happy like him. 

She spun on her heels, walking back. She twisted her wrist with a knife. The boat rocked back and forth as he walked out of the cabin. He leaned over, lightly tapping the wood making her turn around to face him. 

“What’s up?” She sign’s, he smirked, glancing back into the captain’s cabin. She raised a brow at his grin. He was always smiling. This time was different.

“Is it done?” She asks him. 

He nodded his head. She put her knife back into her sheath, she excitedly walked back to him, being mindful of the noise her feet would make if she jumped onto the boat. She reached out her hand for him to help. 

He guided her onto the docked boat. She gasped as her foot slip’s off the edge, almost touching the water. She sighed in relief, thankful he had a hold of her arm’s. She glanced up at him, quickly looking away as the heat rushed to her face. 

He led her inside. “It should work.” He signed slowly, she nodded impressed.

He reached out to touch the ignition key, her eyes widened as she gripped his hand tight. He whipped his head around, confused at her action. 

“Too Loud!” JJ signs, his lips parted nodding his head. “Sorry.” He says she released her grip on him. 

“Tomorrow.” She promises him.

“We leave tomorrow.” She swears, he nods his head. 

“Let’s get out of here.” JJ signs, he furrows his brow again. He watched her leave, picking up her backpack as she pulled herself back up onto the dock, he smirked to himself. 

They quietly walked next to each other, looking around at the desolate San Diego. She looked down sadly passing by shop’s that were overgrown with vines and leaves. She had moved to the city when she was fourteen, she hated her parents for it. 

She couldn't stand the crowdedness of the inner city, and she hated how close they were to the ocean. Did Not help people made fun of her for being from the south, and how she looked. She guessed the joke’s on them now since she is still alive. 

He tap’s her shoulder. “You okay?” Mickey asked her, she nodded her head. 

“Just thinking.” She signed slowly, gesturing to her head.  “About?” He ask’s her, she shrugged. 

She grabs the whiteboard from her bag, writing with the expo quickly. “How everything is gonna change soon.” She writes. 

He took the whiteboard from her. “Where are we going?” Mickey wonder’s. She bit her lip at the use of we, sighed, taking it back from him. 

“There is an island, rumored to be filled with survivors, about five mile’s south of the marina.”  She wrote in bold, his brows furrowed at her explanation. 

“Is it true?” He write’s, she shrugs, taking it back from him. “I don't know.” She admitted. 

“We are gonna find out right?” JJ asks him, her question mark on the end big for him. He smiled warmly at the use of we. “Yes.” He signed to her. 

⏁⏁⏁

SHE DUG THROUGH her bag, rolling her eye’s frustrated, they had finished off the final can of spaghettios she had. He looked up from his book over at her, his brow rose. He sit’s up placing his book on his knee. She grunted frustrated, as he kept digging.

“What are you doing?” He ask’s her, she looks over her shoulder at him. She sat on the dirty floor showing her backpack.

“I'm looking for something i was saving for a rainy day.” JJ tell’s him.

“You have better weed in there?” Mickey teased, she rolled her eyes playfully.

“No pretty boy, I have alcohol in it.” She says bluntly, his eyes widened at her snark.

“I was saving it for when I.” She stops mid-sentence, she pat’s her leg. “When I got out of here.” She stammered, he nodded his head.

She looked at her plastic container on the ground, she could see the orange lid covering the top of the brown liquid. She smirked.

“Found it.” She whispered. She ripped out a bottle of whiskey, the labeled ripped half way that he couldn't tell what brand it was.

“I thought you were kidding.” He laughed at her, she shook her head.

“No, I've been saving this bad boy for two month’s.” She says excitedly.

“Bad news is we have to share it, so don't expect guests.” JJ tell’s him. She grunt twisted the cap breaking the seal of the liquor. She leaned her head back as the ripe fruity taste went down her throat.

She scrunched her nose up. She pulled the dark green button down closer as she walked over to him, sitting on the opposite side of the car seat, handing the drink bottle over to him.

The radio softly played the mixtape she had found. Occasionally a voice would play from the tape, saying who requested what song and why it's there.

“Ill take my chances.” He tell’s her, he leaned his head back taking a swig of the fruity drink. His nose scrunched up closing his eyes. “Wow.” He say’s.

“How old is this?” He ask’s her, she shrugged taking it from him. “How far into the apoulpse are we?” JJ ask’s him.

“Two years.” He guessed, she smirked. “Two years old.” She remarks, she laughs as she takes another drink.

She gagged, holding her mouth. “You know what, don't know why I thought this was a good idea.” She grumbled, handing the drink back to him.

“So Fanboy.” She speaks up, drawing out his callsign. He perked up

“Enlighten me, how did you get a name like that?” She ask’s, he rubs the back of neck licking his lips.

“Thought you would have figured it out?” He says, she shakes her head, running her fingers through her curly hair.

“I'm not that smart.” She admits.

“Bullshit!” He exclaimed with a laugh. Her face grew red at his compliment. “Sorry.” He apologized to her.

“I kind of have a tendency to get loud.” He explains, she raised a brow.

“Like I'm the one who gets everyone hyped up.” He tells her, she smiled nodding her head.

“That makes sense, I mean you can't even talk up there, and you say so much.” She say’s to him, she furrowed her brow. “Hope that makes sense.” JJ mumbled.

“It did.” He says. He leaned his back again taking a swig of the alcohol. He groaned holding his mouth. Jasmine laughs at him.

“What about you?” He ask’s her, her heart skipped a beat. “What about me?” She wonder’s, he sits up handing it over to her.

“What were like before this all started?” Mickey wondered, she shook her head.

“I was quiet, I never really went out, I only hung out with some friends.” Jasmine recall’s.

“Actually, funny enough my favorite people to hang out with were my parent’s.” She chuckled warmly, biting her lip.

“My dad was always good with people and my mom, she was funny.” She recall’s.

“Aren't all mom’s?” He wonder’s. She shook her head.

“I guess but they weren't my mom.” She says to him, she looks down as her arm’s become cold. She sighs heavily.

“What about you? What were you like?” Jasmine wonder’s, she takes the drink from him, taking a swig from the alcohol.

“How was your family?” She asks him. He laughed and leaned back against the car seat. The Radio playing a soft rock song filling the air.

“Honestly..I wish I was able to stop, like there were point’s everyone told me to shut up.” Mickey admit’s. He sighed, his eyes looking down at the cold concrete.

“But I didn't used to be that way.” Mickey says to her, she listens intently at his confession.

“Believe it or not, I wasn't everyone’s favorite person in middle school.” He recall’s.

Her eyes widened at him. “No way.” She says, he nodded.

“Yeah I was either too loud or too quiet, it really messed me up.” He says to her. She looked down sadly.

“And girl’s didn't want to go to the dance with the boy who rode the bench all year.” He recalled.

“My a’ma though, you would have liked, she was always good with people, and making them happy.” He smiled softly. Her lips began to form a smirk at seeing him, a glint of a tear in the corner of his dark brown eyes.

“She had this crazy horse laugh, and she was so tough but she always meant well.” His voice broke at the end, his breath shook as he leaned over taking the alcohol from her. His face mute as he took a swig from it.

“You know what fucking suck’s about this world now?” His voice grim, she looked down at her finger’s as cold wash over her body. He shook his head as his lip’s formed a thin line.

“I have never felt so alone in my entire life.” He admitted, turning his head to face her.

“This world is so goddamn lonely… it’s suffocating.” His breath shook at his last word’s.

She hadn't thought about it. How it must have been for someone like him, to go from having everyone to having no one. Living in a world where you once thrived off social interaction and now all that’s left is living to die.

The radio scratched over as a voice began on the other end.

“This next song Slider suggested, who knew he was the romantic type?” A male voice teased, static on the radio play as grunt is heard on the other end.

“Shut up Hollywood.” Another voice scolded me.

“I'm just saying you have taste, don't be so harsh.” The man proclaimed. A soft piano began to play as the voice on the other end faded out. A soft old motown song she recognised from the moment she heard it. Bring It On Home To Me.

Jasmine look’s to the man on her left. His smile was gone as he stared down the bottle in his hand. She sighed, getting to her feet.

“Dance with me.” She says to him, her voice clear. He looked up at her, his brow’s furrowed.

“What?” he asked, confused. She took a deep breath. “I'm giving you what middle school you didn't get.” She says to him, extending her hand.

“Now get your ass up.” Jasmine teased him. He sighed in defeat, extending his hand, she pulled him up from his spot. He sat the bottle down.

She smirked, placing her hands behind his neck. His hand’s practically engulfed both sides of her waist, her heart raced in her ear’s as the blood rushed to her face at his actions. The both of them began to sway gently to the music.

it didn't seem like danger was near. It was just the both of them,that what only mattered was this moment with the two of them. The heat of the barrel fire illuminated their shadow’s onto the factory pillar’s. The figure’s on the wall are copying their slow movement’s.

“So this is what I missed out on huh?” He teased in her ear, vibrating against her skin. She scoffed softly.

“More or less.” She whisper’s.

He removed one of her hand’s from his neck, taking it his own. Leading their dance away from her control. She could swear her heart almost stopped.

“Alright Swayze, you got move’s.” Jasmine teases him softly. She chuckled, the feeling of his finger’s laced with her own sent shockwaves through her. Smile peaking through, radiating with a sense of peace.

“Oh I've got a lot move’s, baby.” He flirted, she bit her lip shaking her head. He took their tangled hand, spinning her around. A laugh left her as she twirled back to him.

“You are so lying about not going to a dance.” Jasmine say’s between her laugh’s. He shook his head.

“I didn't say I stopped dancing.” He point’s out, their chest touching as the song slowly began to end. Their brown eyes locked, Her breath hitched in her throat as goosebumps flooded her body.

His eyes glanced at her lip, his gaze so soft it made her stomach flutter. His hot breath peppered her face as the gap between them started to diminish. She panted as she slowly pulled away.

“Should be sleeping.” She whispered to him, clearing her throat. The heat rushed to her face as she rubbed the back of her neck. His black brow’s furrowed, puzzled.

“Long boat ride tomorrow.” She chuckled weakly.

“Yeah.uh, I should get to it.” Mickey say’s, copying the same false laughter as her. She picked up the bottle from the ground, putting it back in her crate.

You are such a coward, she scolded herself. She shook her head as she put away stray objects, and grabbed her knife from her holster. She changed her clothes in the corner she deemed her makeshift closet with her clothe;s hung to dry. She slipped her black shirt over her head, pulling her adida’s sweatpants that had been ripped at the knee.

Of course a guy who clearly wanted to kiss you, you didn't even kiss him. Her eye’s closed as she shook her head. She walked back to where both of their cot’s lay near one another, their sleeping bag’s unmade from the night before.

She sighed as it creaked with the weight of her body, she tucked herself into a sleeping bag, holding her arm’s close to herself. Still wearing the jacket he gave her, basking in its sweet earthy smell. She closed her eyes as she tried to shut her brain off.

The sound of light scratched across the floor fill’s the dead air, the familiar creaking of the cot made her heart race in chest. Heat began to rise against her spine, the warmth made her shiver. She turned her body over, her brown eye’s fluttering open.

They stared at each, neither daring to state the obvious between the both of them. His hand caressed her bare arm slowly trapsing to her face.

Her heart dropped as she finally leaned in, closing the gap between them. His hand gently held the side of her face as their lips moved with one another.

Jasmine inhales deeply as her fingers toy with small hair she could feel. His hands began to wonder at her body .

She ran her fingers to the hair tie that held back his curls. His hands gripped both sides of her hip's, pulling closer to him.

She finally pulled away, panting as she tried to catch her breath leaning her forehead against his. She could feel him smiling.

Jasmine looked him in his eyes, his hot breath peppering on her face. She unzips her sleeping bag, crawling over to him.

His hand holding her as her legs staddled his waist, he sits up the cot creaking with their weight shift. She inhaled deeply as she continuing to kiss him, their body's rocking with each other.

Jasmine's hand snagged the tie in his hair pulling it out with on hand. Running her fingers through his dark curls, gently pulling at them.

His hot breath grazed her as his lips began attacking her neck. She gasped closing her eyes as he held her with both his hands.

Her fingers ran down his back down to the hem of his grey t shirt, trying pull it over his head, he pulled back for a moment removing it for her. She contained her shock at his shirtless appearance.

She had seen him without it before, only she tried to be respectful as she was trying to patch up his wound. She caressed his face as she brought lips back to his.

Her heart raced in her chest. She bit her lip stifling a moan he worked down her neck, sucking on the loose skin of neck, for sure leaving a hickey.

His hand snuck under her shirt, his touch sending shockwaves through her. She pulled back, quickly as she could pulling her shirt over her head, leaving her in a purple brallete.

He looked her up and down. His brows furrowed as he looked at a dark pink fragment on her side. An almost perfect bullet. She panted glancing down seeing where is eyes were looking.

"How..did? He whispered, she shook her head. "it doesn't hurt." She reasures him.

His thumb grazed across the scar. "Are you sure..I don't wanna do if you-" She cuts him off by bringing her lips to his.

Quickly pulling back. "I'm okay." She says, him. His brown eyes are dark with a glint of danger.

"Just don't stop." She orders him with a mischievous smirk. With the go ahead he followed her commend. The fire still illuminated their shadows.

⏁⏁⏁

THE SUN gleaned down at the entwined couple. He held her from behind with his arm draped across her waist, his grip had been iron tight before he fell asleep. She had been awakened before he was, her mind racing with the night’s event and what was happening today. She sighed.

She moved her hand to remove his from her waist, trying to roll to her own cot. He mumbled into his pillow, she pulled his arm off her again as she tried to get away again. His grip tightened as he pulled her back to him.

“Five more minutes.” He mumbled. She shook her head, her finger’s grazing him. “The Sun is out.” Jasmine whisper’s to him.

“So?” He asked, his voice vibrating her shoulder. She bit her lip.

“We are gonna lose daylight, and that's not good.” Jasmine say’s, he grumbled some word’s into her shoulder.

“Why do we have to leave now? Can't we just stay here?” Mickey wonder’s, his voice deepened from sleep. She sighed sadly. “Not if you're being hunted, remember.” She says.

He sighed defeated. “It's a nice thought though, but this isn't a home.” She reminds him.

“Make it one then.” He suggests, she shook her head, she took his hand in her own, kissing his knuckles. “You are kind of cute like this.” She comment’s.

“Kind of? What is that supposed to mean?” He teased, his hand snagged the end of her hips, she flinched from the tickling of his fingers across her bare skin.

“Stop please.” She begged between her laughs.

“Mick, I'm serious.” She playfully elbowed his chest. He groaned. “Fine.” He whispered in her ear, she grinned as he kissed her shoulder.

The weight of the cot shifted as he got up, she could hear him shuffling around, the sound of his clothes being pulled over him. Jasmine brought her nose to his pillow, inhaling his scent as much as she could from the cloth. Her skin felt like it was buzzing from the nights event’s, she had gone a while without the comfort of another human it was like she was awakened.

She sits up, shuffling around for her bra and underwear. She pulled her henley over her t-shirt, her black sweatpants slid up over her legs. She looked over to her makeshift table, he stood over the wooden table, his shoulders tense as stood looking down.

She stood up, holding her arm close to herself as she strided over to him. “Are you making breakfast this time?” She ask’s him, he didnt respond.

Her brow’s furrowed. “Mick?” She speak’s up, chuckling. He didnt speak up, simply sighing deeply.

“Mickey?” She ask’s, he turns around leaning against the table. His face stone cold as he stared her down, his brown eye’s dark in anger.

“You lied to me.” He spoke, his voice flat. Her heart dropped at the venom in his words. He holds up a single piece of paper, in the middle was a hand drawn image of herself with the word’s underneath. Wanted Dead or Alive, Murder.

Her heart sank to her stomach. His breath shook as he lowered his hand, his jaw tensed.

“Mick, I can explain.” She stammered, he shook his head.

“Who did you kill?” He demanded, she lifted her hand’s up. “I.I didn't kill anyone.” She stuttered.

“Then why does it say that? Why is your face on a wanted poster?” He asked, his voice angry. She shook her head. “Have you been lying to me this whole time, who is looking for you?” He ask’s.

“My ex-fiance!” She exclaimed, his mouth parted agape at her answer. She crossed her arms as her body grew hot.

“The leader of the bandit’s.” She tells him.

“What?” He whispered confusedly, she nodded her head. “Yeah…and the person I ‘killed’ ..he was the one who did it.” She confessed.

“So yes, I am a liar.” Her voice was flat with anger.

“Sorry to disappoint you, pretty boy.” She smeared. She turned around to walk away.

“Wait!” He says, she stopped at the sound of his voice breaking.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered to her.

“Tell me everything.” He says, she turned around facing him. His face had softened as he gazed at her.

“Please.” He pleads with her, she sighed as her arm’s tightened. They both walk over to the car seat that serves as a couch. She sat opposite side of him, her breath shake as she runs her fingers through her hair.

“A few months ago my parents and I found this group of survior’s lead by a preacher.” Jasmine starts off, she leaned back against the seat.

“And it was fine, we all lived in this nice community of people, we were happy.” She recall’s.

His brows knitted as he listened to her. “Until the man leading it began to say that the alien’s were sent from God, and that we failed him.”

“My Fiance, before this world he was someone who was easy to anger, and he proposed the idea of appeasing them.” Jasmine admits, his brows furrowed.

“Appeasing.” He say’s.

“You mean sacrificing?” He corrected, and she nodded her head. His heart skipped a beat as his blood ran cold.

“I thought he was just saying it because he was terrified, saying what he thought would be right.” She tells him, her chest heaved as her heart dropped.

“The leader of the group refused, and the next day, Ronan found him hanging in the courtyard.” She tells him.

“Did he do it?” Mickey ask’s, she shakes her head.

“Honestly I don't know.” her voice shook.

“Ronan became the leader, and he started making good people do terrible things, corrupting them and twisting their mind’s.” She says, her brown eyes grim.

“They started to round up survivors, some they would take and auction off, people would become a part of the killer’s, some entertainer’s.” She tells him, she licked her lips, wiping her face.

“Other’s they would take out and leave for bait, drag them out to the river, and force them to scream so the monster’s would hear them.” She sighed, he blinked in disbelief.

He was counting himself lucky he never met them before she saved him. What they would have done to him if they found him.

“That's awful.” He says, shaking his head. She wiped away a tear. “I wanted to leave, and so did my parent’s.”

“And I didn't fully agree with the idea of leaving until he…auctioned off a child to become a sacrifice.” Her voice broke, his fingers laced with her as he held it in comfort. She gulped as she counted on.

“My parents rounded up a group of survivors, and we left in the middle of the night heading for the marina. My mom had heard talk of an island run by a naval man.” She recounted.

“Right when we got to the water, Ronan and his cronies found us, he forced my father and I on our knees.” She looked up at the dirty ceiling, the sunlight reflecting the tears that were starting to fall.

“He forced my mother to choose between us, if she chose my father then I would be forced to stay with Ronan and be compliant with everything he asked of me.” She bit her lip, making it bleed. The copper tasted filling her mouth.

“Or choose me, and my dad would be auctioned off, mostly likely as a sacrifice.” Her heart pounded as a lump formed in her throat.

“And my mom she was always so selfless.” She recall’s, the past tense of her word’s made chill’s run down his spine.

“She turned around and told everyone to run before she..” Her voice broke again as tear’s stained her brown cheek’s. She licked the blood away from her lips.

“Before she screamed.” Mickey’s jaw dropped agape. She covered her mouth as she held back the tears that flooded her.

“That’s not even the worst part.” She croaked.

“Me and another girl, we were running together away from him, and he shot her with an arrow right through the heart.” Jasmine’s pant’s as her mind flashed with image’s.

“He shot me too, but I got away after I made a noise.” She wiped her eye’s again, the tear’s didnt stop. “So they aren't hunting you Mickey.” His name rolled off her tongue.

She turned to face him. “They are hunting me.” She admits.

His arms wrapped around her bringing her into a tight embrace. His finger’s held the back of her curl’s as another arm held her shoulders. His body radiated with warmth as he whispered soothingly into her ear. The tears fell from her face dying his shirt.

“I’m so sorry.” His voice says softly in her ear. She sniffled, Ronan had not shown her that comfort in so long, she had forgotten what it was like for someone to care about her.

“That's why you need to leave.” She whispers to him. His brows knitted in confusion. “What?” He pulled away holding her shoulders.

“You should leave me, take the boat, leave me to deal with Ronan.” She state’s, he shook his head.

“Not happening.” He declares.

“You stay with me, you will die, and I can't let another person die because of me.” She stated, he shook his head.

“Jasmine I'm not leaving you.” He says to her, he is filled with determination.

“I made a promise to you, I will get you out of here.” He stated.

“I swear on my life.” Mickey start’s.

His hands running down to arms.” Nothing or nobody will fucking lay their hand’s on you.” He promised her, her lips parted as she embraced him once more. Both holding each other as the morning sun shone.

⏁⏁⏁

THE BOTH OF THEM WALKED next to each other, their backpacks filled with everything they could carry. She carried most of her own thing’s to make it easy on him. He writes on the whiteboard hold it up to her.

“How was it?” It read, she furrowed her brow’s in confusion. “What?” She asked.

He smirked, writing down more. “What we did last night.” he wrote, her face grew red.

“The sex?” Jasmine asked him, he nodded his head. She rolled her eyes at his question.

“That’s really what crossed your mind?” She jokingly asks him. His brows furrowed

He write’s again. “Good or bad?” He wondered, she shook her head. She takes it from him. “You're a dork.” She write’s. He smiled, taking it from her.

“It was that good then.” He Jokes, she rubbed her face. She fought the smirk on her lips. She was almost thankful he found her wanted poster, the weight on her body was gone and she didn't feel like she had to hide again.

She took it from him. “Dork.” She wrote in bold letters, his face grew red as he took it from her.

Before heading to the boat they needed supplies from a boat shop right by the marina, only a swim from their boat. She wasn't sure how much gas was in the boat. She knew it would take a good amount of gas to get to the island.

Her feet scraped to a stop, the water rocked softly against the concrete. Jasmine turned to look at him, taking the whiteboard again.

“Look for anything that we can use.” She orders him, he nods his head.

“What about you?” He signs, she smirks in approval at his signing.

“Find what I can.” She says to him, he nod’s walking inside. She walked on the other side of the garage letting her hand traipse across.

He grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid, tucking it away into his bag. Items left behind were still on the shelves. He guessed that people didn't really care about supply’s in the apocalypse, he hoped that he could find a type of radio to play music for her again. Seeing it was something made her happy, he liked seeing her smile at least.

A creaking sound pulled him out of his thought’s, he looked around him, his finger’s grazing over the leather of his knife holster. He slowly walked into the store, the hair’s on his neck raising as light footsteps patterned around him. Didn't sound heavy enough to be Jasmine.

He unsheathed his knife, looking down at the concrete, the shadow of someone casting through the isle’s. He pant’s as rounded the corner ready to face someone. His brown eyes drifted down to a smaller teen, their face hidden behind their long hair. Holding their knee’s close to their chest as they rock back and forth.

Mickey’s brow furrowed in confusion. They whispered to themselves continuing to rock. He couldn't ask if they were hurt, he sat his knife back in his holster. Bending down to their level.

“Hey, it's okay.” He whispers softly, they didn't look up. He put his hand on their shoulders to comfort them. “Are you hurt? He wonder’s.

Their blue eyes meet his, a smirk paint’s their face. He gasped for air as something around his throat restricts his breathing. He clawed at his neck as a tight scratch object tightened more and more forcing him up.

Jasmine’s ears perked up at quiet choking noise. She bend’s down hiding behind an aisle, seeing silhouettes casting above onto the metallic ceiling, the choking growing closer to her. She rolled onto her knees, sliding across the floor.

Hiding against a rack of scent tree’s, she peaked her head around the corner. Her heart stopped as she watched the scene unfold in front of her. His neck wrapped with a rope, being held back by three men, another circling him like a lion to its food.

He grunted against the rope. Jasmine turned around, holding her heart as it raced in fear. She looked around her fearfully. Mickey panted as his brown eyes widened fearfully, the three men’s mouth’s covered by bandana’s hiding their identities.

“Where is she?” Red Bandana asked him, he could only understand the last half. He shook his head pretending to be confused. He could see the fabric move from a smirk underneath.

“Ronan isn't gonna be happy, you and his wife.” Red tell’s him, he grunted in anger at the last word. She wasn't anyone's, not even his.

“What do you fella’s say we do?” He asks the three men, they look at their hostage and their mock leader.

“Kill? Or take it to the boss.” He asks them.

“He laid with his woman, he won't take that.” Blue banana sign’s. He towered over most of them, holding the rope tightly with one. Yellow bandana raised his hands.

“What use is he then?” He wonder’s. Red bandana shrugged in response. “Fucking nothing, we kill him, find the wife.” He order’s.

“How?” Blue wonder’s, red look’s to the water behind them, he gestured with his hands around the post. He nod’s as he pulls the black haired man to the ground, Mickey grunted as he fought against the tightrope that drug him to the water.

Blue wrapped the rope around a post. He picked up the former pilot by his shirt collar. He smeared at his helplessness. Mickey grunt’s as he leaned his head back colliding it with the head of the man who held him back. Blue stumbled back holding his nose as crimson flowed from it.

A bottle rolling on the ground catche’s their attention. Yellow furrowed his brow, walking over picking up the bottle examining it. A Hiland milk bottle, the white liquid beginning to fizz up in his hand, furrowed his brow.

It pop’s for a moment, it combusts in his hand with a boom sending him back, yelling in agony as his skin burns, his crie’s cutting with an inhumane cry that filled the once dead air. Blue bandana stumble’s back holding his eye in pain, in his blind stumbling he colluded with the tied up man, he yelped as he fell back into the cold water.

He grunted as he flayed his arm’s in the water, he choked as his lung’s ached for air. The sound’s above are muffled from the water. He panicked, kicking against the water, his chest aching as he fought desperately to kick to the surface. Pain shot through his entire body as the rope dug deeper into throat, he jolted as the strength began to leave him, slowly the sunlight that reflected on him disappeared as the world turned black.

⏁⏁⏁

MUFFLED GRUNTING fills the air, he could feel a pressure on his chest, plea’s from a person. His eye’s shot open as he coughed up water, gasping for air. He coughed water as the world around him began to form. Metal that rocked softly back and forth.

“Your okay, your okay breath.” A voice soothed him, she sat him up. Her curly hair soaked with water, her henley clung close to her body. She glanced back and forth between him and the cabin of the boat.

“Don’t move, I'm getting you out of here.” Jasmine order’s him, she grunt’s holding her side as she stumbles to stand up.

“Are you hurt?” he whisper’s weakly, she groans in response walking back into the cabin. JJ grunt’s as she fumbled with the gear’s of the boat, putting it reverse. Holding her side as she got herself out of the bay as fast as she could, she grunted as she turned hard.

The wind whipped against the boat as she got further away from the city. She looked at the mirror seeing him leaning back against the seat. He coughed as he looked up at the sky that raced away. He held his side trying to catch his breath.

“Come on, Come on.” She mutters under her breath. The city began to fade from her view, she sighed thankful. She removed her hand from her side looking down at her hand’s, her fingers covered in blood, she grunt’s placing her hand back.

The boat began to sputter. Her brown eyes widened in annoyance. “No, No no please no.” She begged for the machine. It groaned and sputtered coming to a stop, Jasmine exclaimed, hitting the wheel.

She limped out of the captain cabin, she slid next to him. She groans holding her side as she let out a sigh of relief.

“What happened?” He ask’s her, and she blinked slowly. She looked over at him, her chin cut up with blood leaking.

“They tied you up, I made a bomb.” She recall’s, his brow’s furrowed. “You made a bomb?” Mickey asked her, and she nodded her head.

“I took AP Chem for fun, it came in handy now.” She chuckled weakly. He shook his head, pounding from the impact of falling in the water. “Are you okay?” He ask’s her.

“Yeah, I'm fine.” She assure’s him, with her free hand she laced her fingers with his. Leaning on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” she whisper’s.

“I didn't know they were watching us, we should have filled up yesterday.” Jasmine says to him, he shook his head. “You didn't know, it's okay.” He tells her.

“No it's not because we are now stranded.” She points out, gesturing to the boat. “Better than dead.” He reminds her, she scoffed.

“Well you were technically dead.” Jasmine tell’s him, his heart dropped at her words. “What?! I was dead?!” He exclaimed.

“You were under the water for a whole minute.” She tells him. His mouth parted agape, he couldn't recall much after he passed out in the water.

“The alien’s took two of them out, and tried to get me when I was getting you.” She explains, he looks over to her side, her hand held tightly on her side. Bit’s of crimson shining off of her hand.

“Did they hurt you?” Mickey asked in concern, she shook her head. “Its a flesh wound.” She grit’s, he shakes his head.

“You're bleeding, you're not okay.” He says to her, she shakes her head again. “I've been through worse.” She assure’s him.

“We..we shouldn't be far from the island, I think.” She mutter’s, she shuts her eyes as she slowly sits up straighter. “We can fire a.” She sway’s,

“Jasmine.” He says in concern, she lets go of his hand, standing up slowly. Holding her side tightly. “I'm fine.” She lie’s.

He stands up watching her, she grunt’s limping into the captain’s cabin. Pulling out a white first aid box, removing an orange gun.

“Fire the flare gun.” She mumbled, her eye’s rolling in her head as she swayed around. He quickly got to her side, catching her as she fell over. Gently laying her on the chair, he takes the gun from her hand.

“Jasmine you got to stay awake, okay, eyes on me.” He soothed her, her eyes opened and closed, struggling to keep up. “It’s okay.” She whisper’s.

He grabbed the first aid kit, pulling out gauze and wraps. He lifted up the hem of shirt, ripping off the cover. A long straight gash the size of his middle finger, blood leaking down staining her jeans. He holds the cotton to her wound, holding it tightly.

He takes her hand putting on her own wound. “Hold that there.” He says to her.

“Okay, how did you know that bomb was gonna work?” Mickey asked her, she leaned her head back, her eye’s on the verge of closing. “Hey!” He speaks up, his voice clearer.

“How did you make that bomb?” He wonder’s, she grunt’s. “It was milk and chlorine.” She answers. He chuckled.

“You just carry that on you?” He ask’s, she shrugged.

“Doesn't every girl.” She laughs weakly. He grabs the medical tape, ripping it off with his teeth. Placing it around each square of the bandage. She groaned, gritting her teeth in pain, he looked her up and down. She panted, closing her eye’s.

“Hey, don't do that.” He soothed, lightly patting her face. She shook her head, he smiled softly at her. “You don't get to die on me not now.” He declared, she smirked faintly.

“Didn't plan on it fanboy.” She tells him, he nodded his head. She squinted her eye’s looking out at the water. He turned to see what she was looking at, a faint shadow in the distance, the silhouette of what seemed like two people.

He grabbed the flare gun from her side, taking three of the flares placing one in his pocket.

“I’ll be right back, keep pressure on that.” He ordered her, he brought his lip’s to her forehead. He stood up walking back outside. He aimed the orange weapon up at the sky.

As he pulled the trigger it popped as the flare launched high in the sky, illuminating the midday overcast. His brown eye’s fall to the shadow in the distance, two bright light’s flash in his direction. He smirks. He turned around, getting to her side holding her hand as the shadow slowly got closer to the two survivors.

NO PRESSURE Tagged: @cowboysandpilots @bobfloydssunnies @sugarcoated-lame @sorchathered @fairyheart @swiftsgirlfriend @nouis-bum @senawashere @cottagecori @sebsxphia

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T R A P S O U L

42!Miles x fem!OC

Last Part of the 42!Miles x fem!OC series

WC:947

The upbeat rhythm of Bob Marley’s Could You Be Loved played through the speaker as a breeze blew from the open window by the bed.

Both teens were positioned on Harmony’s twin sized bed. Miles in between her legs with her hands in his hair, gently taking out the overgrown braids.

They could hear the cars driving past on the busy streets and the occasional kid yelling with joy followed by the sound of a ball bouncing.

The room glowed orange as the sun was beginning to set. Shadows from the vines around Harmony’s wall were casted on the beige walls and decorations.

They sat in silence as the smell from the kitchen wafted in through the open door. Miles’ stomach growled loudly causing Harmony to giggle.

“What’s funny, ma?”

He asked with a smile on his face. It felt nice to relax and bask in the times he got to spend with her.

Harmony shook her head as she finished taking out the last braid and ruffled his hair. She found his hair pretty, even with the dried gel flakes that decorated the dark hair.

The song ended and changed to another Bob Marley song.

Harmony’s favorite.

Is This Love

Miles got up and looked in the mirror to examine his hair.

“Look at how long my hair got.”

He said excitedly as he stretched a piece of his hair. It went past his collar bone.

“I see it, babes. It’s pretty.”

He watched her get up and stretch, relieving the pain of sitting in the same position for so long.

“What?”

Harmony asked, cocking her head to the side with a look of confusion. Miles looked like he was stuck. The orange glow from the setting sun made her skin shine a golden color, her eyes looked brighter and the shadow on her cheeks from her lashes made Miles’ breath get caught in his throat.

Is this love that I’m feeling?

Is this love? Is this love? Is this love?

He walked towards her and looked down at the Haitian girl. She was beautiful.

She is beautiful.

Miles took her hands in his and slowly spun her in a circle then tilted her back, nearly dropping her on the floor.

Harmony let out a laugh with Miles following.

They danced to the beat of the music around her room, careful not to step on the few pairs of shoes that littered the floor.

She is the foundation for his conception of Love.

When he thinks of what a black woman should be.

Its her.

Harmony Khelani Jones.

He would give her the clothes off of his back just to see her smile.

He would sacrifice anything for her.

Because without her, the sun didn’t shine. Her eyes can look through his soul.

She was all he knew.

If you asked Miles what the highs felt like. He would say her.

She reminded him of the color blue.

Miles Gonzalo Morales was in love with Harmony Khelani Jones.

“Hijo?”

Rio called from the doorway, with Harmony’s father behind her.

They watched as their kids danced away in their own little world. Brian looked at Rio and stretched out his hand.

“May I have this dance, my beautiful sister in law.”

The older woman laughed, memories of him saying the same thing at her and Jeff’s wedding appeared in her mind.

Him and Jeff were best friends and Brian took Rio under his wing and looked out for her like an older brother. Much like Aaron did.

“Of course.”

Rio placed her hand in his with a smile.

A real smile.

Everything seemed to fall into place. Everyone was happy and didn’t have a worry in the world.

“Hey when did you guys join in?”

Miles greeted with a smile on his face as he spun Harmony around in a circle.

They both looked ecstatic and carefree. Both of them living in the moment.

“We just joined in.”

Brian answered. His eyes squinted as he smiled.

“The more the merrier. Right hermosa.?”

Harmony took in the environment around her.

“Right, bèl”

Harmony looked happy.

She was happy.

Miguel found a way for her to stay in this universe.

There was nothing for her in Earth 1610. Except for Miles and his family.

After much fighting and arguing, they came to the realization that Miles from Earth 42 wasn’t the bad guy, not even close.

Like stated before, he was still Miles. Just the Prowler. But on this Earth, he was a vigilante in New York. He just wanted some peace and protection for his mother since his father was gone.

He was the same Miles that spanned across the different dimensions. The same dorky shy kid that loved to draw and loved music. He only had his guard up in this dimension. He grew up in a different environment compared to the New York Harmony and Miles was used to, but he was the still dorky kid that Harmony knew and loved.

Miles thought as he watched from the window as Harmony threw her head back in laughter when Miles picked her up and spun around.

He missed her more than anything.

He also loved her more than anything, and realized it after the painful truth that she wasn’t coming back.

In his opinion.

She was like trapsoul.

A genre of her own.

Her own unique sound that blended with two clashing aesthetics.

Two different people, with different stories.

The two strangers that were put in random predicaments. Each with a soul so they could make their own choices and live with it.

Two strangers that she both complemented so well.

She was the definition of Trapsoul.

Taglist:

@urmotherswhor3 @not-aya @ihavenousernamewhyy-2 @erensbbg @reneuv @notsaelty @blackwxdo @bajadotcom @delulu4yuta @soseoulol @literalawkwardsimp @m9rgaux @kimchikim @mama-2001 @shoyofroyoyoyo @littleshybunbun

#spider man #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #miles x reader #spiderman x y/n #across the spiderverse #miles molares #gwen stacy #across the spider verse spoilers #spiderman #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles x oc #miles morales #spiderverse x reader

[marleyybluu]

Would you be okay writing some bestfriends brother!rio smut? :)

Don Julio

Best friends brother!Rio x f!black!OC (Honey)

Word count: 1.1k

Content warning: literally nothing, just swearing and hangovers lol, Honey is 21 and Rio is 26 (just testing a little age gap😗)

A/N: I just want to apologize to you anon because this request has been sitting in my inbox, collecting dust because I had no idea how to even come up with anything but here we are bitch.

decided to do OC because... I'm loving the OC streak that I'm on right now.

also, OC is written as a black woman in mind, I don't describe her in detail just yet.

There will be a part 2 yall don't worry

(Not my gif)

And that damn Don Julio made me a fool for you…

•• ••

Sunday mornings were for soaking in the regrets of Saturday night events, they were for dealing with pounding hangovers and lounging on the couch to recover. At least that's how most of her Sundays went and this one was no different. Light snores left her lips while the heat of the morning sun beamed on her bare back warming up her skin. She groaned as the heat became too much, suddenly she wished she hadn't been so drunk last night, she would've been able to close the curtains. She pulled the covers over her body and smiled, that felt better. She readjusted herself, getting in a more comfortable position, she sighed her eyes opening just for a millisecond but, in that quick time, she noticed something off.

Her room was blue... well no it wasn't, her room was actually Sage green. There were posters on her wall of old movies and her favourite artists, this wall didn't have any. Her eyes blew wide open when she realized the lack of softness in her pillow, well it wasn't a pillow at all it was someone's chest—slowlyrisingand falling with sleep. She sighed, of course, she had to start her Sunday in a stranger's bed. Honey sat up slowly, sleep very apparent in her bones as she stretched and her joints cracked, her head felt heavy and her eyes narrowed as she squinted away the bright light of the sun's beams. She groaned tossing the covers off of her legs, her lower half scantily clad, she laughed to herself and shook her head.

Her feet met the cold floor, she grabbed a shirt, she could only assume it was his, oh well-- he wouldn't mind would he?

Honey stumbled through the halls looking for a bathroom, her bladder full of last night's drinks and after pushing every door open she was finally successful in finding a bathroom. She closed the door for privacy while she handled her business as if this man hadn't seen every inch of her business the night before. Once she was done she wiped and flushed, washed her hands and splashed a bit of cold water on her face waking herself up and hoping to stay awake long enough to get home safely. She opened the door and flicked off the light making her way back to the room.

As she walked down the hall she noticed a wall of photos in her peripheral, she was curious and decided to take a quick look at the photos. She smiled at a family picture, two adults and two young children-- a boy with a bowl cut and a little girl with pigtails. Her head tilted. "Kinda looks like Cherry when she was a kid." Honey quietly said to herself. Her eyes scanned the wall, another picture of the children catching her attention, the boy doing bunny ears behind his sister while she cried. It looked... familiar. As if she'd seen it before. And, again, the little girl looked like Cherry. Cherry was Honey's best friend since kindergarten, you couldn't see one without the other, they were attached at the hip. Cherry did have an older brother, Christopher but everyone called him Rio, and if Honey remembered correctly... he did have a... bowl cut when they were younger.

Her heart dropped at the realization, she gasped softly. "No... no, no, no."

She quickly walked back to the room, she stood behind the wall taking in a deep breath before she leered past it to poke her head into the door frame. The not-so-mysterious man was now lying on his side, facing her, eyes still closed. Honey covered her mouth in utter shock, there was no way this was happening. Her eyes fell to the floor, their clothes mixed and scattered all over the boards along with an empty bottle of Don Julio 1942. She had to get the fuck out before he woke up, she quietly thanked God that Cherry was always at her man's house otherwise this would've been a very awkward morning. She tiptoed back inside the room, bending down to scoop up her pants, her top, her bra and her panties... sigh... where were her panties?

Honey shuffled around looking on top of his dresser, inside the drawers and under the bed. She couldn't find them, she'd have to leave them. She pulled on her pants and swapped his shirt for her own, she was putting her faux locs in a quick bun when suddenly her phone rang at a violently loud volume, it even vibrated against the wood of his nightstand.

"Shit! Shut up!" She whined through gritted teeth, in an attempt to quickly grab the phone she tripped over the empty bottle of tequila, just her luck. The loud thud caused a stirring in the bed, Rio groaned and yawned carefully sitting up. He shielded his eyes from the sunlight and shook his head, he had a pounding headache. "What the fuuuck." He grunted at the phone. Eventually, it stopped, and he blindly picked it up to see who it was. A missed call from his little sister, Cherry, but the longer he stared at the screen he noticed a picture of her and her best friend. His eyes popped, his lips parted slightly.

"Honey..." He called out unsurely and with the slight hope that she wasn't in the house.

"...Yeah?" She answered from the floor. "Oh... shit."

"Yup."

Honey got off the floor, stood on her feet and smiled sheepishly. "Hi..."

"Hi..." He returned. Rio scanned the room, his eyes widening at the empty bottle of Tequila, his hands covering his eyes. But even though this was not an ideal situation, his seeming frustration or maybe regret made her feel a way.

She'd always had a crush on Rio, but being her best friend's older brother, it was an unspoken rule that he was off limits. So, Honey just admired him from afar. God, he was... something. He was handsome. So fine. And the older he got, the better. He'd gotten taller, facial hair had grown in but those pretty brown eyes remained the same along with that charming smirk he always had. Then came the haircut and the tattoos and... oof! It levelled him up.

Rio cleared his throat, Honey blinked a few times realizing she'd been caught in her trance. "Sorry... I- sorry." Though she didn't know what she was apologizing for. She grabbed her phone and the rest of her stuff and dashed downstairs. Rio shook his head, "Wait." He mumbled still dazed with sleep and a wicked hangover.

"Honey-"

The front door slammed. Honey fumbled with her car keys, and as bad as driving intoxicated is— she quietly hoped she didn't drive here completely sober. Intentionally pulling up to fuck Cherry's brother? She would never let herself live it down. Fuck.

Her car started, the heavy engine rumbling and vibrating the walls of the Martínez house. Her tires screeched getting herself the fuck out of there.

Once she got home she slumped onto the couch, she checked her phone. Seven missed calls from Cherry, and a slew of text messages asking if she was okay, if she needed someone to talk to. Honey squinted trying to remember what happened, what would have her friend in a panic state. What did she do?

A hesitant finger hovered over her name in the call log, Honey tapped it and the phone rang only once before Cherry picked up. "Honey!? Bitch! Where were you? Are you okay?"

"I'm- Cher, I'm fine. I'm sorry if I scared you. But what... did I say?"

Cherry said, "You called me, you were crying about Julien," Her ex. "And then you left me a voice note like an hour later slurring your words, and then you were talking to someone else but— were you with him last night?"

She threw her head back on the cushion of the couch. "No, I wasn't with him I was with... someone else. Fuck. Look, I need some coffee in my system, my head is killing me. I'll call you tonight, and again I'm sorry for scaring you."

Also sorry for sleeping with your brother.

"It's fine, I'm just glad you're safe and... home?"

"Yes, home, I am home." She said nervously. "Okay, well, I'll talk to you later then. Love you."

"Love you too... bye."

The call ended, she tossed her phone on the couch. She had to at least try and remember what happened last night.

If you liked this fic free to like this fic, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated.

peace and love, see you in the next one 🤙🏾

🏷: @darqchilddaydreamz @rio-reid-whoreee @skyesthebomb @bigenergy777 @realhotgurlshit @lovedlover

#rio x black!OC #rio x reader #rio #goodgirls #rio fanfic #marleysfanfictions #marleywrites #good girls rio #rio good girls

[lostloveletters]

Bruised Fruit Chapter 8 (Michael Corleone x OC)

Summary: The sound of no longer distant wedding bells loom in the air as the reality of Gloria's new life with Michael closes in on her.

Note: Pre-Cana is a retreat or series of courses that couples getting married in the Catholic Church attend (it varies by parish or diocese). It’s basically pre-marriage counseling from a Catholic perspective. Also, the novel doesn’t specify which battle Michael was wounded in, just that Life magazine ran the article on him at some point in 1944 and he was discharged in early 1945 after Vito bribed a military doctor to say Michael was too badly wounded for him to return to combat. With this in mind, I’m going with Peleliu, which would make the most sense considering the vague canon timeline and its high wounded and casualty rates.

Warnings: Descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, mainly morning sickness.

Chapter 7 | AO3 Link | Masterlist

Do not interact if you're under 18, terf or radfem, or post thinspo/ED content. I will block you.

The moka pot on the stovetop hissed at Gloria while she was looking at the showtimes for Rio Bravo listed in that morning’s issue of Newsday. Grabbing a pen, she circled a few evening showings to present to Michael. If they got out of Pre-Cana early enough, they could catch a screening of it on the way to pick up the kids from her parents’ house.

Her elbow knocked against the espresso glasses she’d set out on the counter as she moved the moka pot off of the flame and onto a free burner. One of them nearly rolled onto the floor, but she managed to catch it just in time.

The espresso glasses were a brand new crystal set she’d bought at Lord & Taylor not long after they’d moved into the Long Beach house, making the drive upshore to Manhasset with Sandra. They were technically shot glasses, but the shop assistant in the housewares department enthusiastically assured her the glasses could withstand hotter temperatures. So far, they’d held up to the three or four small pots of espresso being made in the Corleone household each day. 

Michael always drank some in the morning and then in the afternoons, usually an hour or two after lunch. Al took his with sambuca, as did Connie. Sandra drank hers black and piping hot, and Tom sometimes drank his cortado, though he didn’t drink espresso after 11am, claiming the caffeine would keep him up all night otherwise. Ciro drank his with lemon, and Dominic, Al’s protegee and another newer face around the house, would drink his straight, unless Al was around, and he’d add sambuca, too. Anthony had even started drinking espresso, acquiring a taste for it at her parents’ house and shocking her and Michael one morning when he asked for some. 

Making espresso for everyone was one of the few ways Gloria was actually helpful in the kitchen, otherwise leaving the cooking to one of the Corleones or their maid, Margaret. The older woman had patiently taught Gloria how to cook Michael’s preferred breakfast of poached eggs and toast so she could make it when Margaret was off on the weekends.

Al Neri had let himself in, quietly, as he normally did, though his near silent arrival didn’t startle Gloria anymore.

“Morning, Al. Michael hasn’t come down yet. Espresso’s fresh, though. Help yourself.”

Al nodded. “Thanks, Gloria.”

“Have you eaten? I’m gonna make eggs when Michael comes down, and I think we have some leftovers from last night in the fridge.”

She’d already had a plate of cold ziti for breakfast herself. 

Gloria couldn’t concentrate on cooking for long enough to get any good at it, finding each step of the process mind-numbingly boring and would get distracted if she felt like something was taking too long to chop or boil or whatever she was supposed to do with the ingredients. One of the benefits of working with the casino’s restaurant in Vegas was getting free meals from the kitchen, usually extra food or untouched meals the picky patrons had sent back. Except to make coffee or heat up leftovers from work, she rarely ventured into her kitchen when living on her own.

Espresso took only a few minutes to brew, though, and she could multitask while keeping an eye on the pot. 

He shook his head. “I got a sandwich from that deli by my place on the way here.”

Al had bought a house in Lynbrook with the move, only a twenty minute drive from them, less if traffic wasn’t too bad. His place turned out to be about ten minutes from her parents’ house in Rosedale, which made Michael feel better about letting the kids spend the night there sometimes. Gloria liked Long Beach, though, especially since summer was rapidly approaching and some of the seasonal places were starting to open up.

“Do you go to the movies?” she asked, eyes flicking back to the showtimes in the paper on the counter.

“Not in a long time,” he said.

“I was thinking of asking Michael to take me.”

“Ask me to take you where?” Michael asked, walking into the kitchen and giving Gloria a kiss on the cheek. “Morning, Al.”

“To the movies. We should go see Rio Bravo.”

“Isn’t that a Western? You don’t like Westerns.”

“I like Ricky Nelson,” she said. “We haven’t been to the movies since we saw Cat on a Hot Tin Roof last year.”

He conceded more easily than she expected. “Alright, darling. How about after Pre-Cana? We can get dinner and then go to the movies since your parents are watching the kids today.”

“Great! Oh, let me get your breakfast ready. Are you sure you’re not hungry, Al?” she asked.

He shook his head, opting for his espresso.

Michael poured himself some, and Gloria got to work on making his breakfast. The toast was easy enough, but she always felt like she could do a little better on the poached eggs. Though if Michael thought so, he never said anything to her. 

Gloria wasn’t sure what to expect from Pre-Cana. Michael hadn’t taken it with Kay since they didn’t have a Catholic wedding, and the concept was brand new when Jackie and Vivian had gotten married. The church secretary at St. Catherine’s said it wasn’t exactly a requirement, but strongly encouraged, which meant that if they wanted to keep their late August wedding date, they better go.

As soon as she scooped the poached eggs from the boiling water, the scent hit her nose in an unfamiliar, nauseating way, and she clumsily dropped the egg on top of the slice of toast, gagging as she did so.

Michael and Al shared a perplexed look as Gloria ran past them into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. 

She could hardly look at the contents of the toilet, promptly flushing it. A knock at the door startled her, though she should have expected Michael to check on her when she made such a scene.

“Gloria? Are you alright?”

“Yeah I—just give me a minute.” She clumsily grabbed a bottle of mouthwash beneath the sink, filling her mouth with the burning mint taste and spitting it out into the sink. She washed her hands, accidentally splashing the mirror with water when Michael abruptly opened the bathroom door.

“What made you sick?” he asked, concern evident in his features as he took in the burst blood vessels in her face, leaving the skin splotchy and her usual eyebags even darker.

“Maybe someone left the milk out too long,” she said, avoiding his gaze as she dried her hands. “I put it in my coffee earlier, and it smelled a little weird.”

Michael was silent, staring at her for a moment before seemingly accepting her explanation. “Should I call the parish and ask them to reschedule our Pre-Cana?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine. I’m just gonna sit outside. Get some air.” Because the mere thought of being in the room as those fucking eggs nearly made her gag again. 

She knew Michael was watching her from the window as she made her way to one of the patio chairs next to the vegetable garden. It had been his late father’s hobby in his retirement. Everyone who lived there since had kept it up in one way or another, all friends of the family, Michael had told her. As the house had never gone to strangers, they tended to the garden in Vito’s honor. Tom’s wife Theresa usually busied herself with it. Gloria helped once in a while, though she could tell Theresa didn’t care much for her and only made polite conversation whenever she was around. Perhaps Gloria’s presence served as a reminder of her husband’s infidelity with her own sister-in-law, unless Theresa really didn’t know, and disliked Gloria on the principle of her having been Michael’s mistress. Regardless, Gloria certainly wasn’t one to snitch on such a situation, and she had no qualms about keeping whatever secrets she needed to from whichever Corleone she needed to.

Gloria kept secrets from Michael even after he told her about Apollonia. Hers was about his other ex-wife, the one who he probably wished were dead. Instead, Kay was back in New England, just outside of Hartford, to be exact. Gloria had gotten the address from Connie, who’d been keeping in touch with her former sister-in-law. Using her parents’ house as the return address, Gloria had sent Kay the colorful crafts Anthony and Mary had made in school for Mother’s Day earlier that month.

Trying to hide an almost certain pregnancy from him was becoming a near impossible task. She looked at the tomatoes growing in their vines, green in the late spring and soon to be ripe and red in the coming weeks. Michael would be glad she was pregnant, she had no doubt about that. It was exactly what he wanted, and just what she dreaded.

She brought her fingers to her temples in an attempt to massage out the dull headache that emerged. The screen door opened, and she didn’t bother to see who’d come outside. Michael stood next to her, his shadow shielding her from the sunlight that exacerbated her headache. 

He handed her a glass of water. “Your head must be killing you.”

Gloria downed the water, cool droplets spilling from the corners of her mouth but paying it to mind. She set the glass down, wiping her face with the back of her hand, acutely aware of the way Michael was staring at her, deep in thought as he took in the state of her again.

“Thanks,” she said.

“I called the parish anyway, the secretary said there’s one we can go to next weekend. Think you’re up for a movie?” he asked. 

She smiled. “I think I can manage that.”

“I checked the paper, we can go to the screening at two, get an early dinner, and then go to your parents’.”

“Alright, I’m gonna take a nap, then. Wake me by one if I’m not up?”

He nodded, taking her hand and kissing the top of it. “Get some rest, darling.”

The first thing Gloria did when she got to the master suite was brush her teeth, avoiding her reflection. How long would it be before she began losing teeth? She knew plenty of women who’d experienced that or hair loss or brittle bones, all a result of the baby leeching nutrients from its host. 

When she got into bed, she buried her face in her pillow and screamed. So much had changed already, and the moment Michael caught wind she was pregnant, her life as she knew it would be his. There was no more hiding it, though, no possible way when there were eyes on her at all times. Every one of her soon-to-be in-laws were undyingly loyal to him in addition to the men he had at his disposal. Hell, he probably already knew.

Michael couldn’t have woken her up to go to the movies soon enough. Not that she figured she’s gotten any sleep anyway, too caught up in her thoughts to actually rest. But she needed to get out of the house and go somewhere. Maybe it’d be easier to tell him if they were in public, and she had to keep her composure.

In the theater, she focused on the movie, tried to enjoy herself despite Ricky Nelson not singing nearly as much as she’d hoped and her not caring much for Westerns to begin with. Michael had taken the time to go with her, though, and was trying to salvage the day so it wasn’t totally lost. His devotion, his attention was overwhelming at times, especially when so much of it belonged to her. 

“I still don’t like Westerns, but I like that song Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson did,” she said as they walked out of the movie theater.

Michael nodded. “Dean Martin’s always good.”

“Did you get a chance to see him when he did that show with Jerry Lewis at the casino? What was it, four years ago now? It was a riot.”

“I did. Kay and I went.”

Right. Gloria hadn’t been scheduled to work the three days Michael and Kay were there. She didn’t see him for nearly a month after that and figured their affair of nearly a year was over, surprised it had even gone on that long. No hard feelings, no love lost, fun while it lasted. Then he returned to Las Vegas on business, something Fredo had avoided telling her in what he perceived as an attempt to spare her feelings. She was friendly when she and Michael crossed paths in the casino’s lounge. Less than an hour after she was off the clock, they were up in that hotel room again.

Thinking about Las Vegas felt like watching a movie itself, as though it were someone else’s life entirely. She still longed for it from her invisible cage of domesticity and privately mourned for it as if it were the greatest love of her life. Maybe it was.  

“Anywhere specific you wanna eat?” Michael asked. 

Gloria cleared her throat. “Maybe we could try that restaurant up the street, the one with the seashell on the sign? I’ve never been, but Janine was saying it’s good.”

“Who’s Janine?”

“Michael, she lives two houses down from us.”

“The Avon lady?”

Among their neighbors, Gloria liked Janine the most. She didn’t mind Gloria hanging out at her house a few days a week and was pretty good company. Her house wasn’t pristinely tidy, and she’d sometimes get tipsy on sherry by 3pm and end up ordering Chinese takeout or making TV dinners for her family. Or maybe it had something to do with Gloria buying something every time a new Avon catalog came out. 

Gloria laughed. “Yeah, her. Mary’s going to her daughter Diana’s birthday party next month. She and my mom already picked out a gift.”

“Alright, let’s try it.”

“She said they have good Salisbury steak.”

“Salisbury steak? You must be feeling better from this morning.”

“I’m starving, actually.”

The few handfuls of popcorn she had in the theater certainly wasn’t enough to make up for two missed meals. Her stomach rumbled as they neared the restaurant, the smell of its kitchen mixed with the nearby sea breeze oddly enough to smell delicious in the moment. It wasn’t crowded for four in the afternoon on a Saturday. They were seated in a booth by a window that had a decent view of the beach.

“I’ll have a club soda, and she’ll have a rum and coke,” Michael said to the waiter.

Gloria shook her head. “Just a Coke for me, actually.”

Michael’s eyes shot over to his fiance, Gloria avoiding his gaze and playing with the corner of the tablecloth. The waiter took the hint to leave the couple alone, mumbling about giving them more time to look over the menu.

By the time Gloria let out a shaky breath, she knew he’d put two and two together, probably had since that morning. It wasn’t any easier for her to say it. “I think I’m pregnant.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen a doctor?” he asked.

“My period’s a few weeks late.”

“You’re scared,” he observed softly.

“I’ve never done this before,” she half-joked.

He reached over the table, taking one of her hands firmly in his. “You and our son will want for nothing. The best doctors are a phone call away.” When he noticed this didn’t seem to assuage her nerves, he added, “I’ll be with you through all of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Then you have no reason to worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“You’ve known for a while, haven’t you?”

“I didn’t want to jump to conclusions. Monday morning I want you to make an appointment to be sure.”

“I sure feel like I can eat for two,” Gloria said.

Michael smiled. “Then go ahead and order for two.”

The waiter returned with their drinks, seeming to wait until the intense discussion was over. He gave them another few minutes to look at the menu, and suddenly, Gloria wanted to order everything. Even asking Michael what he was getting, a grilled pork chop with green beans, didn’t help narrow down her options.

Gloria’s Salisbury steak came with two sides, and she chose mashed potatoes and creamed spinach after some internal debate. Before the waiter could walk back to the kitchen, she ordered a plate of grilled scallops, too. One of the things she had missed about living in New York when she was in Vegas was the fresh seafood.

“What do you think of Ciro looking after you?” Michael asked as he cut into his grilled pork chop. “Just whenever you leave the house, to be safe.”

“I like Ciro,” she said. “He’s nice. Kept a close eye on us during the bachelorette party.”

“Good. I trust him,” he said. “How are the scallops?”

She nodded her approval, sliding the plate toward him while chewing a chunk of steak she’d shoved in her mouth. As far as she was concerned, Salisbury steak and hamburger steak were the same thing, but for some reason, it felt like the greatest meal she’d ever eaten. Some of it was relief from not trying to hide her pregnancy from Michael anymore, even though she dreaded the thought of what the following eight months would involve. 

She glanced over at Michael. For all the rotten luck or poor decision-making in the world, he chose the one Sicilian girl without a maternal bone in her body. Then again, he always saw something in her no one else seemed to, and it even left her at a loss sometimes. For his sake, she hoped the baby was a boy, but personally had no preference and was already thinking of how often she could pass child-rearing responsibilities onto her mother. At least buying stuff for the kid and redecorating one of the spare bedrooms into a nursery would be fun. 

“I should get decaf, shouldn’t I?” Gloria mused aloud when they finished their meals, ready to order coffee.

Michael nodded. “Wouldn’t hurt.”

“That stuff’s awful.”

“It’s only a few months.”

“God, and I won’t even be able to drink at the wedding,” she lamented.

“Don’t worry, most of our guests will drink more than enough for the both of us.”

“How crazy is it gonna be?”

“I’d be surprised if there were less than two hundred people there.”

“Jesus,” Gloria whispered. “Is that including family?”

“Yours and mine, and then some acquaintances and business associates as well. I figured since we’re having the reception at the house, it wouldn’t hurt to invite the neighbors.”

“Really?”

“Like you said when we first moved in, they’ll notice if we’re antisocial. Just remember to keep them at arms’ length.”

The drive from the restaurant to her parents’ house felt oddly long for a weekend, but it gave her a chance to actually think about the wedding for the first time in a while. Connie and Sandra had taken on most of the wedding planning duties of their own volition, with Gloria in charge of picking out her dress, the cake, and a band to play at the reception. The latter was a task she took seriously, wanting to find a group that could play music to her tastes and also to that of the plethora of old school Sicilians who’d expect to hear a tarantella or two at some point during the celebration.

Gloria was relieved to see Vivian’s car in her parents’ driveway when Michael pulled up. Having Jackie and Vivian around always lowered the tension between her parents and Michael. Vivian liked him well enough, even though they’d butt heads at times. Jackie and Michael carried on friendly conversations on their own. Gloria wasn’t sure what she’d have done if Jackie disliked her fiance the way their father did.

“Hey Mike,” Jackie said, shaking Michael’s hand when they walked inside.

Michael smiled. “Good to see you, Jackie.”

“Hi Michael,” Jack said. “The kids are upstairs painting with Julia.”

“I’ll go see what they’re up to,” Michael said. “The kids love that craft room.”

Jack smiled. “Good, we’re glad to have them over any time.”

Michael disappeared upstairs, and Gloria followed her family into the living room, declining Vivian’s offer for coffee. Might as well try to be responsible, though if she’d known the shot of espresso she drank earlier that morning would be her last for the better part of a year, she would have savored it more. Or at least tried harder not to throw it up.

“How was Pre-Cana?” Jack asked.

“I got sick this morning, so we’re gonna go next weekend.”

“Again?” Julia asked as she made her way downstairs.

“It was some spoiled milk. I’m fine. We’re going next weekend, wedding’s still on, nothing to be concerned about,” Gloria said.

“We just got the invitation in the mail. You can mark us as a definite yes,” Vivian said. “How many people are going to be there?”

“The guest list was a little over two hundred fifty people long, last I heard.”

“Two hundred fifty,” Julia repeated. “Jack, did you hear that? I don’t think we had more than thirty at ours, both our families combined.”

“That’s because theirs isn’t gonna be all family,” Jack said. “Your fiance’s business associates, I’m sure.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Vivian scolded, trying to keep the heat off Gloria.

“Oh, Gloria, that’s shameful if he uses your wedding day as a front for all of that,” Julia objected.

Jack scoffed. “What else is it for? A cover for all of those people slinking about for their debts and favors. Just watch, you’ll be surprised at who shows up for his generosity .”

“You two are ridiculous,” Gloria said. “That’s not what it’s going to be like at all.”

She actually didn’t know what the hell the wedding was going to be like, and it wouldn’t surprise her if Michael’s work did keep him away for some of the reception. Because there were things pertinent to running an olive oil importing company that required him to step away from family events for hours at a time. Even if he spent the day glued to her side, she was sure her parents would find something to pick apart.

Frustrated, she headed outside and couldn’t light a cigarette fast enough. Jackie followed her, though he kept his distance, standing closer to the back door than she was. 

“Hey,” Jackie said. “Everything alright?”

“Just mom and dad being jerks about Michael and the wedding.”

“They’ll come around. He’s not a bad guy.”

“You really like him?”

“I don’t know what he does for a living, and I don’t really care. All I know is, this guy got transferred to my company after he got wounded on Peleliu. That article came out just before Christmas in ‘44. We got the magazines with these shitty rock-hard cookies that had nuts in them. But he said Michael was a good captain, saved his life. Some guys said it was a real shame he got discharged before Okinawa. They really admired him.”

Gloria took a long drag from her cigarette, letting out a shaky exhale. In nearly fifteen years, that was the most Jackie had said to her about his time overseas. All she knew was that he was with the First Marines and didn’t write many letters home, but when he did, it seemed like he was always on a different island and had less and less to say. After he returned to New York, he’d answer her questions with one-word responses or pretend he didn’t hear her at all. 

She learned not to take his avoidance of the topic personally, though it took a while. The only person who knew the most about what Jackie experienced, besides the men he fought with–few of whom he kept in touch with over the years–was Vivian. In that case, Gloria didn’t pry, not wanting to pressure her sister-in-law to betray her brother’s confidence.

“Why is this the first time you’re telling me about it?”

“It wasn’t exactly a fucking vacation, Gloria.”

“I know that. Michael’s told me enough about it to have a clue. That’s why I talked to him in the first place five years ago, and that’s how I ended up back here. Because I wanted to understand what happened to you, but you shut me out.”

“What was I supposed to say to you back then? You were a thirteen-year-old kid!”

“I don’t know! Just…something. I missed you so much, Jackie, and it was like you left and never came back.”

“I didn’t. That’s what you have to understand, Gloria. Alright? Michael–he got fucking shot and came out of it better than most guys I know. Whatever the hell he does, he’s good at it. It’s like he can put his emotions in a box and leave them there. That’s why he’s good for you.”

“Compartmentalize.”

“What?”

“The emotions in a box thing. He compartmentalizes.”

“There you go.”

Gloria stubbed out her cigarette on her heel. “I’m glad you like him. I don’t think mom and dad ever will, though.”

“All that mob stuff’s true, huh?”

“He doesn’t tell me a lot, but probably.”

“I bet the cops are gonna be all over the wedding.”

“Oh, I can just see dad telling them all the details now.”

Jackie snickered. “It’ll be fine.”

“With two hundred fifty people there? Fat chance.”

#michael corleone x oc #michael corleone x ofc #the godfather #michael corleone #the godfather x oc #the godfather fanfic #michael corleone fanfic #the godfather part ii #bruised fruit fic

[berberriescorner]

"Keep Me Posted"

Characters: Rio x Black!Reader.

Summary: Oh, you know, just Rio being an attentive, caring, flirty, and nurturing boyfriend😍. 

Warnings: The reader has a chronic illness. There are brief descriptions of what it’s like dealing with an autoimmune disease. If you have knowledge of or can relate to the topic it may or may not make you a little sad. Being the emotional ass gangsta I am, a thug tear was definitely shed in the making of this😆.

Word Count: 900+.

Personal Note: This drabble (not even sure what to call it) is very near and dear to me. Yes, it’s self-indulgent AF, but I had a disappointing doctor’s visit earlier this week😔 (which inspired me to put my feelings into my writing). I figured why not write something for not only myself but other beautiful readers who deal with the struggles of having a chronic illness? Even if you don’t personally know what it’s like, I hope you still read it and enjoy the fluffiness that Rio’s dishing.

Your bedroom was pitch black as light snores fell from your overtired body. Upset by the day's events, you had raced home to shower and fall into bed as soon as possible. Your boyfriend Rio had been pretty busy that day as well. He had still managed to take the time to shoot you a few texts. The usual: did you eat, mama? How was your day? Ending it with an, “I’ll be late. Don’t wait up. Get some rest. I love you, mama.” You had taken the time to answer each question thoroughly, giving him a quick rundown of your stressful day. Rio (a man of very few words) had simply texted his apologies for your long day. He suggested you go home, take a nice hot bath and pamper yourself. You did exactly that and went to bed not long afterward. 

You had been asleep for some hours, but the brightness of your phone screen awakened you. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you rolled yourself to the edge of the bed. Eyes focused on the screen as a sleepy grin danced across your face. Sitting up, your back pressed against the headboard. With the swipe of your finger, you accepted the incoming call.

“Hi, papa. It’s so late, and the bed’s cold without you. When are you coming home, my love?”

“I’ma be home in an hour or so, mama. Sorry to wake you, but I just wanted to know if you ate. I could bring you a late-night snack if you didn’t.”

“I had a little something. I’ll take a snack so long as it’s you.”

“Come on, ma. Don’t start something you can’t finish. Bet once I get there, you’ll be out like a light. You need rest anyway, darlin’. Sleep, I’ll be home soon to take care of you.”

Rio’s assumption was correct. Not long after ending the conversation, you were fast asleep. Your body was fighting against you at every turn. Two hours later, you felt the bed shift. The intoxicating scent of your boyfriend's cologne penetrated the air. Rio sat on the side of your bed, staring at you with love in his eyes. Your eyes remained shut as you felt his hand reach out. His digits pushed a few strands of hair out of your beautiful face. He continued to gaze at you with longing. There was also a hint of worry that played upon his features. His mind drifted back to the sadness in your messages from earlier. He was pulled out of his thoughts when he felt you stir a bit. Your eyes fluttered open as you groggily smiled up at him.

“Hey, baby.”

“How you doin’, mama? Are you feeling any better?”

“About the same,” you frowned.

“You still upset about your appointment earlier today?”

“Yes, I just hate feeling like this. It’s one thing dealing with lupus, but the last three appointments have revealed the same issues. My anemia is only getting worse, and nobody can seem to pinpoint the exact reason for it. Pills never work, and the iron infusions are doing next to nothing. I’m just so tired all the time. It’s starting to take a toll on me mentally. The depression is starting to creep in, and I feel like I’m drowning.”

“Why did you wait all this time to tell me what was going on, mama? I’m going to have to start accompanying you on your visits again. I can’t have you holding out on me. Thought you loved me, girl,” he teased.

“Boy, stop! Love you for life, papa. You’re dealing with the stress of business and trying to get to the bag. I didn’t want to add to that stress. You get anxious anytime I’m having a rough time, and I need you focused out in these streets, babe. I can take care of myself, I promise.”

“With all due respect, darlin’. I’ll decide if I can handle it. I assure you I can. Let me take care of you, mama. You ain’t gotta deal with this all on your own. Anytime you need me, just say the word, mama.”

Your eyes had started to water, and Rio cupped your chin.

“Now, what’s all this? Why are you crying, baby?”

“Why you gotta be so damn sweet? You do such a wonderful job at keeping me grounded. Thanks for always reminding me how much you care. I love you, papa.”

“Love you with everything in me, darlin’.” He kissed your lips gently. “You’ll be straight, mama. I’ll help you weather any storm that comes your way.” He wiped away any residual tears from your face. “You good, mama? Did you take your nighttime medications?” With a nod of your head, a yawn fell from your lips, “I’ma go hop in the shower. You lay that pretty little head down and get some more sleep,” he said, kissing your lips.

“Will you come to bed and spoon me when you get out?”

“You know I got you my baby. Now sleep,” he instructed, laying a kiss on your forehead. Rio pulled the covers over you and adjusted the pillows. 

After a quick hot shower, he finished up in the bathroom. He slid into bed, taking a moment to turn his phone on silent. Gently wrapping his arms around your body, he pulled you against him. Rio’s lips made contact with the back of your head. You stirred a bit as your body molded into his. Seconds later, your cute little snores resumed. Rio let out a light chuckle at the sound of the snoring. “Love you with everything in me. Goodnight, mama,” he whispered. He was caught off guard as your sleepy voice mumbled, “Love you endlessly. Night, papa,” you replied, falling back to sleep instantly. Rio’s handsome smirk played upon his features as he rubbed circles into your smooth, silky thigh until he joined you in a good night's rest.

I hope that you enjoyed it, my lovelies! It for sure did its job lifting my spirits while writing it🥹♥️. I have something similar in the works for Chris Evans. “Keep Me Posted” will be turned into a series of drabbles called “Daily Struggles”(shoutout to my twinnie @nightlywords7 for coming up with the series title💓). Comments and reblogs would be greatly appreciated.

Divider Credit: @firefly-graphics

Gif credit to the owner. My apologies I actually got it from Pinterest. If it’s yours don’t hesitate to inbox me and I’ll tag you for credit.

Tagging:

@nightlywords7 @4everbrookemarie @amorestevens @rio-reid-whoreee

@sunshine-flower @1andonlytashae @igigix @crimsonheart01 @myownworstenemydw @novaniskye @lemmewritesomeish @realhotgurlshit @oya16

@my-rosegold-soul @hihellogoodbyebruh @thehomierobbstark @ziayamikaelson

@ashmonet @mama-sunny1

@fkagoddess @doloreschanal @captainwithoutmakingitlove @tbugger01

@mrsmontanalol @blessedboo

@naughtyslashers @peaches007

@whore4-horror @gardenof-venus

@minton131 @aizawash0e

@90sisthenew80s @cjricks98

@skyesthebomb @tashawar

@keaboyd21 @gabbywontlose

@est1887

#berberriescorner #daily struggles series #keep me posted #rio x black!reader #rio x woc!oc #rio x reader #rio x y/n #rio fanfiction #rio fanfic #rio good girls #good girls rio #manny montana

[foras]

dawnbringer pt. 2|| bradley “rooster” bradshaw x metcalf!reader (oc!reader)

part 2 (out of ideal 10) → part 1 , part 3

pairing : bradley "rooster" bradshaw x female oc metcalf!reader

a/n ⋯ part two! thank you for all the love and support. rooster will finally make an appearance, haha, but don't hate me! oc belongs to me, and original story had been MODIFIED to fit a new character.

overview ⋯ elizabeth "sunshine" metcalf, granddaughter of mike "viper" metcalf, has been called back to top gun. she's found out that other graduates are returning too, including bradley. her heart is on fire.

warnings (for future, not much happens in this one yet) ⋯ TOP GUN MAVERICK SPOILERS. sexism (minor, will be warnings), sexual innuendos, minor stalker mentions, flirting, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, cursing, eventual smut, 18+. minors dni.

wc: 4.3k oc!pinterest board

The night had settled easily. Elizabeth and Natasha had made it back to their rented airbnb for the evening's toll, the two quickly finding homage in their rooms. It wasn’t a particularly luxurious duplex, but it will do for the time that they’re spending there. 

Liz lay awake in the morning hours, the ticking clock forming a soft rhythm that she counted as the seconds passed. She knew that Natasha would be waking soon. She always was an early riser. Of the many things she envied of Natasha was her ability to function earlier than the sun could rise over the peaks of the sand dunes. 

However, today was different. 

It was Liz who woke earlier, finding herself unable to resist the urge to twist and turn throughout the night. It was safe to say that she was restless after their encounter at the bar, or rather the conversation that her and Phoenix held afterward. Natasha and Liz were lucky enough, skilled enough to be awarded the privilege of, to be posted at the same air bases throughout their career. It was true that missions changed frequently, but neither of them ever earned citations to be separated. From the beaches of Fightertown to the monstrous tides of Kittery, they had built their career around each other. Dependent on each other as wingmen. Natasha grew from flying dual jets to a single flier, but Liz remained as the pilot in the box with a RIO on her side. She liked it that way; RIO’s were a security blanket for her, and she thought they held more value than the Navy made them out to be. 

She wondered who her new backseater would be for this mission. 

Time will only tell. 

A knock at the white stained wooden door of her room had Liz sitting upright, bedsheets falling down to her waist as she cleared her throat. 

“Come in,” her legs would cross over each other, awaiting the visitor on the other side. It was Natasha on the other side of the door who wore her white tank from the night before with black sweatpants. Socks cupped the ends of the sweats, tucking them in towards her ankles with a pair of Ugg slippers that made their way from the dark depths of Flight School. Liz was amazed that they had survived for so long. 

She leaned against the doorframe, her cheeks filling with air as she spoke. “I didn’t think you’d be up,” Liz would roll her eyes, leaning back against the headboard. Natasha chuckled. “Come on, Fanboy and Payback should be here any minute.” Payback and Fanboy. Liz tsked to herself quietly under her breath. Of course they’d be coming— why would they not? The legendary RIO pair were inseparable through their journey in Flight School, and eventually Top Gun. If they had been coming, Liz had more competition to put up with. 

She had no RIO.

Supposedly, she had a new one. A backseatter had filled an untimely spot—not that it was ever permanently filled— by the name of Robert Floyd. A kid from Lemoore’s Naval Base; she barely knew anything about their program. Liz could only hope that he wasn’t as stuck up or snooty as Coyote or Hangman had been. Now that would be an issue. 

Begrudgingly so, she pulled herself from the comfort of her bed. The mattress squeaked at the shift of weight, dipped in awkward places, but at least she had a place to sleep, right? Or that’s what she told herself, anyways. 

Natasha had already turned and left the doorway, the scent of fresh coffee filling Elizabeth’s nose in her wake. That was enough to have her swinging her legs to the ground, putting on a black Top Gun emblemed sweatshirt over her sports bra, followed by a pair of gray gym shorts. She’d pull her hair from getting caught in the hood, letting it flow down her back. 

Walking into the kitchen was a sight for sore eyes. Natasha had spilled the coffee pot on the floor— which explains the strong stench— and was on the ground with white, now dampened brown, towels. She looked at Liz as she emerged from the room, then kept her head down in obvious embarrassment. 

“Nervous?” Liz would joke, turning on the aluminum plated sink with cold water running across her fingertips. She helped Natasha, spoon-feeding her white towelettes from the rack and onto the hardwood floor that was soaked with boiling hot coffee.

Natasha only scoffed in response, head ticking to the side simultaneously as she wiped the floor. “I haven’t seen them in years.” She’d state, scanning over the area with the hot coffee that now appeared to be mostly dried. Liz leant against the counter with crossed arms as she looked down, an ambivalent smirk still present across her face. 

“So?” The red head would shrug, not understanding the complexity of Phoenix’s shaken nerves. 

“So…they’ve got me on edge.” Natasha would shrug her shoulders forward, completing a final swipe of her arm to successfully relieve the floor of its coffee-holding duties. She’d stand, taking the disposable rags with her, throwing them in the plastic trash can beside the countertops. “The best of the best are comin’ back, Liz. Aren’t you the least bit worried for what the fuss is all about?” Natasha’s hands would find her hips, head crooning in a manner of ‘isn’t it obvious’? 

Liz shrugged in response, hands finding the backside of the counter and pushing herself forward. “When you put it like that, yeah.” She accentuated the ‘yeah’, a playful smile on her face to lighten the mood. “—but come on, this could be fun!” Liz would grab Natasha’s hands, shaking them to get her attention. The pair could handle anything, couldn’t they? A little backpedal to what the past had been, reliving their days of the academy with the best damn pilots they know. It was an honor that they, too, had been ordered here on behalf of Admiral Simpson. 

Natasha reluctantly smiled along with Liz, giving into her energy before there was a knock at their door. The pair of girls looked to one another, then to the door, then back to each other. Natasha let go of Liz’s hands, skipping to the door. She’d open it, a soft sigh coming from her lips. “Well, I’ll be damned.” 

Liz approached the door as well, a few feet away as they made room for their coming visitors. Hands still crossed over one another against her chest, she’d wait to see their expected company. 

“Phoenix!” She could hear Payback’s voice clear as day as he stepped into the foyer, giving Natasha a one handed hug in greeting. His other hand was occupied by a duffel bag. 

“Good to see you, Payback.” Natasha was glowing. 

He let her go, looking around the entrance of the apartment before his eyes landed on Liz. “Sunshine, as I live and breathe.” His arm extended as an invitation for a hug to which she gladly accepted. Her hands wrapped around his neck, standing on the tips of her toes to reach. 

“I like the stache, it suits you.” Payback had grown a furl of facial hair across his lip. Other than that, he hadn’t changed. Dark, bronze skin with a nearly entirely shaved head. A skinny, but lean stature, he could hold his own.

“Oh, why thank you. I had inspiration.” Liz didn’t miss that. The way he said it and smirked towards her. She hadn’t. Inspiration. There was only one other pilot she knew that rocked a mustache, the only other man that she thought could pull it off. 

She chose to just nod, lip catching between her teeth as she pulled the door open further, Phoenix indulging in her greeting towards Fanboy. The backseatter didn’t hesitate as he pulled Liz into a two-arm bear hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her midsection. 

The woman could only laugh in response, hugging him back. “Can’t breathe, Fanboy, can’t breathe!” She’d cough out, feeling his chest vibrate with a laugh as he relented his hold on her. Liz took the moment to look him up and down; he hadn’t changed one bit. Other than whiter teeth, he was still short and stocky. Stocky as in…five foot eight, rippling with hidden muscle. He came from Latinx origin as far as she knew, his skin was a wonderful gold that reflected eerily in the morning sun that peeked through the doorway. 

“Sorry, Sunshine. Couldn’t help it.” He’d breathe, standing up straight and fixing his uniform. Both he and Payback were wearing their uniforms. Today was arrival day after all, and many of them were expected to be wearing their casual-uniform attire for the day.

“You know I’d never refuse a hug from you.” Liz would chuckle, helping them with their bags and placing them on the counter. 

“You guys happen to have any coffee, by chance?” Payback would ask, clapping his hands together as he took in the scene. 

Natasha and Elizabeth only looked at each other, and burst out into a fit of laughter. 

—☼—

Later in the evening, the coddle of Lieutenants arrived together in their squadron of four back to the Hard Deck for the evening. It was a tradition in Fightertown to gather here, and no Top Gun graduate would forget it. 

Natasha had dressed in her casual uniform, a tan pantsuit decorated with her active duty patches. Her hair had been tightly pulled back in a bun against her head, not a single hair out of place. She had removed her jewelry along with it, but Liz couldn’t imagine why. They didn’t need to show up with their uniforms on— they were simply going to the bar!

Payback and Fanboy wore their uniforms too, after they had settled down in the afternoon for a nap at the airbnb. They both smelled of the fresh spring soap that Natasha had supplied them with that refreshed Liz’s airspace. She hated bad smells. A lot. Such a turn off, really. 

Liz seemed to be the latter, in this circumstance, instead opting out of wearing her uniform to a cream sundress with yellow sunflowers painted across the surface. It was an off the shoulder dress, cuffs of sleeves wrapping around her upper arm, leaving her collarbones and chest exposed underneath the warming sunlight. She wore a golden necklace of a sun around her neck, small and thinly chained, with matching earrings of her Fighter jet pattern along the corners of her ear. 

On her feet, she wore white heels, typical for the formal Navy attire. She stole them from a reserve back at the academy years ago, and figured she’d put them to good use. 

“Evening, Penny,” Natasha hollered as soon as she stepped foot into the bar, the bell chime following the opening of the door. Penny had whipped around from serving another customer, a fellow with a leather jacket with a multitude of patches, before approaching the Lieutenants side of the counter. Liz couldn’t get a clean view of the man, but she shrugged it off anyways. Her smile had largened and she tucked a loose piece of curled hair behind her ear, leaning forward on the lacquer countertops. 

“Lieutenants,” Her head would dip in greeting towards Liz and Natasha, acknowledging their introduction from the previous night. “I don’t think I’ve met you two,” She’d pointed towards Payback and Fanboy; Fanboy behind Liz, Payback behind Natasha. They excused themselves from behind the female pilots, shaking hands with Penny, briefing them on their role at the base. 

“Nice to meet you,” Fanboy’s white teeth shone in the light. 

“A pleasure, Penny,” Payback followed up quickly. Their polite mannerisms had always impressed Liz. A striking difference for what many men had become in the recent years, yet the Navy always encouraged chivalry of some degree. That applied to all of them— except for Hangman. 

Speak of the devil.

“I didn’t realize they sent just anyone for this mission,” His voice was as clear as day. Liz and Natasha peeked behind the bar to see Hangman and Coyote playing pool at the table, sticks in hand. They wore their uniform, too, and Liz felt a tad displaced. Nonetheless, she thought she looked good. 

Natasha snickered, looking towards Liz as she did so. Liz returned the energy, pushing her shoulder against Phoenix’s to move towards the pool table that Hangman stood behind. Liz’s heels clacked against the ground, Phoenix’s keychain chimed as it hit against itself, they would be a force to be reckoned with, and they would be facing Hangman. Closely behind them was Payback and Fanboy, who sauntered as if they owned the place, too. That’s a lot of what it was in the military that Liz had noticed— men feeling the primal urge to piss on everything that they thought they earned. They needed that validation not just from their superiors, but from normal civilians too. 

Liz couldn’t deny that she felt the same at times. The glances on the town block of admiration and awe as they wore their badges on their left pectorals. The honor that it held is something that ran deep in Elizabeth’s blood— she wouldn’t be ashamed of it, and if she had, she’d dishonor Mike Metcalf; her beloved granddad. 

“Please, Bagman, you’ll be burning up in no time with your ass on fire with that ego of yours.” Phoenix would tease as both her and Liz stood across from Coyote and the man himself, separated by a pool table. 

“Hangman—” He would correct, stepping forward. 

“Whatever.” Phoenix rolled her eyes in response, leaning against Liz’s shoulder. 

“You’d be a lot more tolerable if you acted like Sunshine over here,” At the mention of her name, Liz stood up straight, arms crossing over her chest. Hangman had pointed towards her for a moment, but his hand fell back to his side as he saw the way she jumped upward. “Someone who knows their place.” 

“Yet I still manage to outrank your flight score every time.” Liz chimed in, leaning forward as she spoke the words. Phoenix widened her eyes, flickering from Liz back to Hangman. Her tongue stuck out of her mouth in a mockery. Payback and Fanboy shee’d in response, clapping Liz on the back. “So yeah, Phoenix, keep acting like me and you’ll be walking all over him in no time.” The red head would turn on her heel, heading towards the bar to get some beers for herself and Natasha. 

She could hear the introductions being swapped between Coyote, Hangman, Payback, and Fanboy. Their words were short and cut, followed by a brief snark session between Coyote and Phoenix again. The tension felt high, scrutinized beneath the dim lights of the bar. This was going to be a ride. 

Before Liz could ask for a beer, the cow bell that hung against the pillar in the middle section of the counter rang loudly amongst the crazed atmosphere. They still did that, huh?

Free round of drinks for everyone is what that bell meant. Either someone had put their phone on the counter, disrespected the Navy, or a lady. Whatever it had been, Liz sure wasn’t complaining as she got a view of who the perpetrator was. She would have to thank him, but also apologize for the hefty check that was about to be needed towards the inventory. 

Who it had been though, caused her to squint, rub her eyes, and do a double take. 

“Maverick?” She hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud, but they rolled off the tip of her tongue faster than she could control. 

The leather jacket that she swore she recognized shifted, and a pair of blue eyes met her own green. 

“Elizabeth?” He’d question the same, squinting in return. “Elizabeth Metcalf?” Maverick would ask again, to which Liz nodded in assurance. “Christ, I haven’t seen you in years. How you been?” 

Liz shrugged, her hands coming up to exemplify the motion. “Alright. Graduated Top Gun a few years back and I’ve been on tour since. I got called back to Fightertown for a new mission about a month ago.” 

“Wow. Reminds me of Viper,” He’d laugh, taking a swing of his beer. “Congratulations. Top of your class, I’m guessing?”

“Of course,” Liz would lean over the countertop of the bar. “Couldn’t disrespect ol’ pops, could I?” Maverick had been a long time family friend. From her understanding, her grandfather had been his Top Gun instructor back in the day. From then on, he’d show up at family gatherings for the first couple years, then sporadically throughout Elizabeth’s youth. Eventually, once she was accepted into the Naval Academy, she had no time to see anyone at all. If he still kept in contact with her family, she wouldn't have a clue about it. 

“No you could not,” Maverick retorted, looking at Penny who stood in the midst of the bar, tending to another customer. His eyes glided over the surface of her body, and Liz would watch as he did so.  Interesting. 

“Penny, could I get two on ol’ Maverick here?” Liz would twinkle, letting her finger swipe against the wood. Without a moment of hesitation, Penny would begin to fill up two glasses. 

“Absolutely you can, sweetheart.” She pushed the two pints over towards her, and Liz grabbed them with feverish hands. “No charge.” Liz dipped her head in acknowledgement, then turned towards Maverick and bowed into a courtesy. 

Maverick did his own miniature bow before swiping her away, looking towards the group of pilots that she came from. With a soft chuckle, she’d tip toe back, avoiding the pain in her heel from the stilettos. 

“Here you go,” Liz handed the beer to Phoenix which she accepted gratefully. 

“Thank you ma’ dear.”  The glass met Phoenix’s lips earnestly as she took a mouthful down her throat. 

Over her shoulder, Liz noticed a broad structured man sitting against a pillar, wearing a Navy uniform, grabbing a pole stick. “Who’s that?” She’d look towards Phoenix whilst pointing at him. 

“This is Bob—” Her hand outstretched as if she were presenting him on a platter. “Bob! Come over here,” she’d call. Sure enough, the man responded. He turned on his heel and approached them quickly. His blonde hair was gelled back, face clean of hair, and he smelled faintly of black cherry soap. He had these big round glasses and stood a good half a foot taller than Liz stood. 

“Hi there,” Bob’s hand stretched outward towards Liz. “Bob Floyd.” Liz accepted the gesture, shaking his hand with uncertainty. She felt as if the name was familiar. 

“What’s your callsign, Bob?” Liz would ask out of curiosity. 

“Uh…—” he looked awkward at the moment, scratching the back of his head. “Bob…” Oh! Liz’s mouth dropped with realization. 

“Oh! Bob Floyd, from Lemoore?” Bob nodded expeditiously. “You’re my new back-seatter?” Liz’s finger would point towards him as she held her cup of beer in the same one simultaneously.  

“Yeah, yeah I guess I am.” His smile was cute and klutzy, which in turn caused Elizabeth to return it. 

“Join us, Bob from Lemoore.” Liz joked lightly, feeling the beer warm her chest as she swallowed a gulp graciously. 

“Give ‘em hell,” Phoenix joined in, shoving the pool stick against his chest, cocking her head to the side to encourage him to join Hangman and Coyote’s game. When he did, after placing his cup of peanuts down on the table between two leather chairs, Coyote and Hangman looked at one another with a  raised brow. 

Phoenix stood at his side, preparing for battle. 

However, before Phoenix could make her first strike, the bell attached to the door chimed. 

The world stopped in an instant. 

Hangman and Coyote’s head lifted in an alert manner, trading looks with one another. This can’t be good. Liz refused to turn around to see who it had been. She had a feel she knew before they all did, based on the heavyset footsteps that cleated themselves into the hardwood floor. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Phoenix’s head turned for her. Her obsidian eyes dilated with ardor. Her hand raised to put it on Liz’s shoulder, shaking it lightly. 

“It’s about damn time,” she’d proclaim, tapping the pool stick against the ground. A soft echo followed the sound. Or maybe that was just Liz, who felt as though she could feel every vibration, sound, lightwave that passed through her eye. Her heart beat so loud in her chest, she was afraid that Phoenix would take note of how her body language had changed. 

After being so…open, tonight, she wanted to churtle back into her room with warm bed sheets and a hot tea. Her skin itched, her ears burned, her palms became sticky with sweat. Liz’s head didn’t move from its position, stuck on the markings of the pool table’s surface. She could feel Phoenix’s body turn away from hers, close yet distant voices punctuating her ear drum. Bob, from Lemoore, had turned to. She wished he hadn’t. 

Words had been exchanged between Phoenix, Bob, and him. Of course she knew it was him. The atmosphere always changed when he walked into a room. It drew quiet, beckoning to his every call for simply existing. They continued to talk, yet she couldn’t process any of it. The stars would shift their cosmic desire to beg at his every whim. The heavens sang for him and, at one point, she thought she was going to as well.

Elizabeth’s body didn’t feel real. Was this what Phoenix had talked about…what was it called, disassociating? Something like that is what she imagined is what she was going through. She felt like she could walk on clouds, except her ankles had been tied down with cinder blocks. The world had become a bird’s eye view, and she was just a mere spectator. She was a spectator until the scent of sandalwood and earthy cologne pierced her nose. She had been transverse back into her body, away from the stands, away from dreaming about the stars. The world had traded it for her to be in the present of one. 

“Bob, this is Rooster,” Phoenix’s voice caught wind in the shell of Liz’s ear. The red head’s hands clasped the pool table, holding on as she felt like she was going to fall. Faint, pass out, whatever. “Rooster, this is Bob.” How sweet their introduction must be. She could only imagine, for the minutes she’d known Bob that his eyes would glisten with stars of their own. Stars that reflected the shell of hooded hazel that stared back at him. 

“Nice to meet ‘ya.” Bob’s innocent tone of voice couldn’t be missed as Liz only assumed they were shaking hands. 

“Likewise.”

Elizabeth’s spine shivered. The independent vertebrae almost collapsed, falling apart like building blocks. Her ankles crossed over one another, her thighs touching. Sweat had built around her collarbones; she could feel it, brisk air chilled her chest hastily. 

The men had split themselves into a form of table chat. Short conversations of introduction— their distinguished accomplishments, life enrollment in the Navy, stuff that didn’t matter. Stuff that kept Elizabeth Metcalf locked in place. Unable to move. Like an animal in headlights of a semi-truck on the interstate. 

What pulled her from her trance of staring at the eight-ball was a poke at her shoulder. She finally turned her head to face Phoenix, who had dipped her head, cocked her head to the side, motioning towards the pair behind her. 

Elizabeth’s eyes flickered upward. Quickly, without a moment to spare no less. 

He had been staring at her. 

Hazel eyes mixing with green. Chestnut, naturally blonde highlighted hair, slicked back with a partial undercut. Mustache that was groomed to the hair, not a single follicle out of place. Signature yellow-flower patterned Hawaiian shirt met with a white tee. Board shorts with beat up converse. Socks that fell loose at the ankles. Silver chain with a cross on the end, dangling on a muscular chest. Broad chest. Tall. Unforgiving stature. Bleeding stare. Bleeding stare that made her legs wobble.

Elizabeth looked away, back towards Phoenix. Her stare had been all-knowing. She patted Elizabeth on the back, whispering quiet words. “Bogey, 9 o’clock west. Closing in fast.” Then she was gone, talking, chattering with Payback and Fanboy who sat on the windowsill. 

Elizabeth inhaled, looking upward as she leant into the strength of her arms. Her chest pushed outward, air filling her nose to relax. Relax. How could she? Perhaps he was the only one who would know. 

The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Her back went rigid as it was met with a blockade behind her. The grip she held on the pool table relented, her elbows going slack as it hit the same fabric. The same muscular abdomen. Hard, rough.  

“Hey, Sunshine.” Elizabeth could feel the hairs of mustache brush the curve of her shoulder, a shock of pleasure reaping down her nerves, curling in a bundle against her navel. His head must’ve dipped down to meet her curvature, nose bridge now caressing the stretch of the base of her neck. His voice was coarse, husky, and guttural as he spoke from deep within his chest. It was something intoxicating, something she would much rather get drunk on. 

Yet, she couldn’t.

But, she also couldn’t move. Her body didn’t let her. She didn’t want to. Elizabeth would never utter such words aloud, never wanting to inflate his ego. Not more than it already had been when he was around her. 

With the last ounce of strength she had, her head had to turn only to the right to meet his haughty gaze. It enraptured her, just as it did the same for him. He, too, could feel it. “Hey, Rooster.”

—☼—

part three tomorrow

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[idolatrybarbie]

series masterlist

pairing: marcus pike x alex dozie (fem!OC)

word count & rating: 4.5k | mature

summary: alex dozie, everyone.

tags: angst, takes place in 2014, complicated relationships, background american politics, some emotional violence/potentially triggering relationship dynamics.

notes: @atinylittlepain | extra! extra! read all about it: marcus pike, past, present and future pathetibabe.

Spring. The temperature outside is mild. Rain showers take over the usual Lake Champlain gloom. It’s still sad outside, but at least there’s a little bit more substance to it. The sky is crying, and Alex can appreciate that. For how much it rains, she wonders if it is grieving.

Something—someone shifts in bed beside her. Opening her eyes slowly, it takes a minute for her eyes to focus. When an arm snakes around Alex’s waist, she doesn’t need to see to know who it is.

“Reg,” she croaks. Reg like register, or Reggie—that’s his name.

“Lex,” he whispers back. His breath tickles the shell of her ear.

“How long have you been up?”

“Hmm, ‘bout an hour,” Reggie tells her.

“And what time is it now?” Alex asks.

“Almost 6:30.”

Alex freezes, blood running cold. She twists out of Reggie’s grip, sitting up in bed to give him the harshest glare she can muster this early. Except she doesn’t have the time, so she only squints at him in vague annoyance before throwing the covers off her long legs.

“I’m supposed to be up at five,” she sighs. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“You looked so peaceful,” Reggie smiles. It forces her to smile too, despite herself.

“Peaceful or not, I’ve got a seven o’clock class.”

Alex scurries into the bathroom, unwrapping the silk scarf around her head. Her straightened hair falls to her shoulders, choppy bangs bleached and dyed black at the ends. The rest of her hair shines with the bathroom light, a bright silver blonde reflecting everything thrown at it. She rubs a makeup wipe over her face, forgoing a decent cleanse in the crunch of time.

A shortened version of her usual morning routine goes as follows: deodorant, followed by a spritz of perfume; pinning her hair back as she smears on the slightest bit of makeup; throwing together an ensemble of decent-looking clothes while she scratches at her enamel with a toothbrush.

She doesn’t have time for contacts, grabbing her glasses from the nightstand. Reggie has done his due diligence in making her a coffee, black with two sugars. He hands Alex a bright blue travel mug and her brown leather carryall. It really does carry all—notes, pens, loose tabs of chewing gum. You name it, she’s got it.

Alex kisses him on the cheek, leaving a red-brown pair of lips on his skin.

“I’m going to kill you,” she says, all play.

“You’re gonna need a lawyer for that.”

“Point there. Know any good ones?” Alex asks. She smiles again, because Reggie makes it so easy, and says, “I’ll see you later.”

The walk from Cushing Hall to the law department’s cozy little building is a cool fifteen minutes. The rain stops as she makes her way, maneuvering around puddles in her short-heeled boots. Quaint boxy buildings surround her, the campus built like a brick maze between manicured lawns and concrete sidewalks. She can almost see a glint of sunlight reflecting against the clear windows as she passes them by.

It’d been a big swing choosing school out here; Vermont was far from the dusty heat of New Mexico and the warm arms of her mother. She’d turned down the acceptance to a community college right outside her hometown of Rio Rancho. It was a good school, Mrs. Dozie always told her. A Nigerian immigrant herself, she only wanted to see Alex succeed. It was good, sure—but Alex wanted better. The best. To be it, have it, live it; all of the above. Just over 100 thousand dollars in combined loans and scholarships later, she was set to graduate magna cum laude in a few short months.

The door opens at her pull, the floors still bright and sparkling from a lack of early morning foot traffic. A tangle of suits sit in the cushy lounge chairs nearby, hanging around. Business majors, maybe, waiting for their first lecture of the day. A check of her watch—a knockoff Calvin Klein her mother gifted her at the ceremony for Rio Rancho High’s class of 2010—tells Alex she is already late for her own.

She doesn’t have the time to notice the rain starting to pelt against the windows again, a light tingle in her ears as Alex speeds up with each step. When she reaches Rutherford Hall, she slips into room 104 with practiced silence. Alex takes a seat at the very back of the lecture hall, pulling a notebook and one pen from her varied collection, trying to catch up. When Professor Cartier takes a moment to switch between presentation slides, she pops a piece of gum in her mouth to chew.

Just a few more months, she thinks.

Professor Cartier calls on her to stay back after class ends. “Miss Dozie, if I could have a minute?” he asks at the front of the classroom.

Alex nods with a weak pull of her lips, swiping her things into her bag. She clops down the many steps to his podium with an iron grip on the leather handle. Standing tall in his impeccably tailored suits, Cartier was the only Black faculty member in the criminal justice department. Of all her professors, he is the man Alex holds in the highest regard. It’s not easy to get where he is.

They both start to speak at the same time.

“Please, go ahead,” Cartier says.

“I’m sorry for showing up late, I still got all of the content and I promise, it won’t ha—”

“Miss Dozie,” he says, stopping her. “Alex. You’re fine.”

The breath trapped in her lungs drains from her slowly. He’s never called her Alex, not in all her four years.  “Alright then.”

“I wanted to congratulate you,” the professor says.

“Well, thank you,” Alex says. “…for what exactly?”

“The scholars' brunch,” Cartier says it like it’s an obvious thing.

“I’m confused.”

“Don’t tell me they didn’t tell you?” At Alex’s silence, Cartier shakes his head with the suck of his teeth. It makes Alex chuckle lightly through her nose. Her mother has the same habit. “For your noted academic excellence, you’ve been invited to a scholars’ brunch with the mayor of Burlington.”

“Oh,” Alex says. She tries to look grateful, putting on a show of holding her hand up and clenching it in a fist of faux excitement. “Yay.”

“I know. Sounds pretty fuckin’ boring, huh?” Professor Cartier asks.

Alex laughs, a little uneasy, a little endeared. “I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Well, it’s a great opportunity, anyway. It’s less invitation and more expectation if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” Alex nods. “I can grit and bear a few tea sandwiches with Rob Yorkdale, Professor Cartier.”

“I’m happy to hear it.”

“When is it?”

“This afternoon.”

Fantastic. They must schedule it in the middle of a school day, on a Monday. Not like she has anything better to do! Oh, these hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt? Pfft, it’s nothing Mr. Yorkdale. Let’s talk about you, huh?

“You look more than thrilled,” Cartier says.

Alex schools her grimace into a neutral mask, raising her brows. Expectation, not invitation. “Do you think Professor Harris will mind me missing her ethics class?” she asks.

"I don’t think she’d even notice you weren’t there.”

Three and a half hours later, Alex wanders into the administration office. Dean Wesley is ready to greet her with a smile, parroting all the standard questions and statements lobbed at outgoing seniors: what a pleasure Alex is to have on campus and how much she will be missed, how Wesley does hope that she comes back for a visit indeed. By the time they make it to an unfamiliar conference room, it feels like the dean is practically pushing her out the door already.

The doors open together, revealing the other attendees of this lovely little gathering. Alex recognizes a few of them: Aditi Patel, second in their class this year, setting the curve for the past three. Rowan Michael's posh attitude and smug smirk disappear as Dean Wesley leads Alex inside the room, dated floral wallpaper and the lingering scent of dust surrounding them.

“Dean Wesley,” Aditi steps forward first, shaking hands with the older man as she gives him a polite, toothless smile.

Rowan stands from his seat, nodding as he spits out a clipped, “Sir,” with a nod in the dean’s direction. The others take their turns spewing polite greetings.

“It’s so nice to have you all here,” Wesley says.

“Sure,” Alex says. “Getting the gang together to celebrate our successes.” The sarcasm is lost on Dean Wesley, but Rowan shoots her a glare.

Alex has less of an issue with Aditi than Rowan, but she’s not exactly trading friendship charms with her either. Whatever. Weeks from now, they’ll never see each other again. She might as well have her fun.

It’s a few minutes of stilted small talk that Alex simply observes before the doors open again. Mr. Yorkdale waltzes through them, everyone standing at attention with his presence. Behind him, a couple of young men trail in. The guys from earlier, Alex’s hypothesized business kids. Her opinion of them as a collective goes up marginally; being the cronies of one of the wealthiest public servants in New England didn’t exactly notch them very high.

“Mayor Yorkdale!” Dean Wesley greets him.

The two men shake hands as the student crowd utters hellos in a polite cacophony. Alex’s attention slides over to the man standing just to Yorkdale’s left. Tall-ish with short dark hair, he is perfectly clean-shaven. He holds himself in a hunch, like he’s waiting for what’s next, grinding the heel of his shoe into the ground. Maybe it’s a nervous habit. When they make eye contact, the man smiles at her. She blinks, looking away again. Reggie flashes before her eyes, probably stealing her Netflix to watch Community before his 2:30 class.

“I’m so excited to meet and greet all of you,” Mayor Yorkdale says, addressing the scholars of this brunch. “Now, let’s eat!”

Like they were waiting in the wings, a flurry of cater-waiters have everyone seated with a plate at his command. In the organized chaos of everything, Mr. Cue Ball sits next to Alex. She doesn’t say anything, unfolding a pristine linen napkin and spreading it across her lap. Catering trays are wheeled into the large space, lining the walls before a short man and a tall woman make their way around the long table. Everyone is served with a choice of ham and cheese omelet or eggs Florentine, a slice of rye toast slathered with farm-fresh butter, and a tidy fruit cup of state-grown peaches and pears.

Cue Ball gets the omelet while Alex opts for the eggs Florentine…not that she’s paying him any mind. The mayor is talking, boasting about his accomplishments with almost seven years in office behind him. It will be another two years before the election; Alex won’t be living here, but if she were, she wouldn’t vote for him. She certainly didn’t the last time.

“So how is it?” someone asks. The question seems to come from thin air. Alex looks around for the owner of the voice, looking straight ahead and meeting Rowan’s sneer. Turning her head left, fork still in her mouth, she meets the smile of the mayor’s aide.

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“How is it? The food,” he says.

“Oh, um—fine, I guess.” The yolk is globby against her tongue, sliding down her throat before Alex speaks again. “Sorry, do I know you?”

“No,” the aide shakes his head. “I’m Marcus.” Now she does.

“Alex,” she offers.

“So, Alex,” Marcus starts, keeping his voice a little lower as to not interrupt Yorkdale’s chatter, “what’s it like at Champlain?”

Are they really doing this? “Look, Marcus? I’m here to eat with the mayor. I’d like to get back to that.”

Marcus’ brows raise a little at her reaction. Alex can almost see the gears in his head turning. “My bad. Sorry,” he says. No smart line, no bitchy comment. An apology.

The simplicity of it, the genuine sentiment dripping from just three words has her cringing inside. He’s trying to be nice. “It’s good,” she says, popping a diced peach into her mouth with her fork.

“Pardon?”

“You asked what it’s like? It’s good,” Alex says. “Simple. Hard, but no one comes here without looking for a challenge.”

“Doesn’t seem like it would be difficult for you,” Marcus says.

“Hard isn’t difficult,” she shakes her head. Curious, she adds, “Why do you say that?”

“You seem up for it. You don’t strike me as the typical audience for the halls of an institution like this.”

Hm. Of course. Well, he isn’t wrong; Alex can count the number of Black staff and students at Champlain College on one hand. Still, the insinuation has her turning away again, tongue poking into her cheek. She ignores him for the rest of the meal, only politely passing the glass pitcher of orange juice to Marcus when it comes to their stretch of the table. He tries to hedge in a few more leading comments, but Alex stays silent. By the time they serve strawberry cream tarts, he’s caught the hint.

Breakfast finishes unceremoniously. The mayor shakes every student’s hand on the way out, his clammy palm engulfing Alex’s as she feigns a smile at him. As she walks out of the conference room, she can’t help but feel that the whole thing was an utter waste of time. Worst of all, she’s still hungry. The eggs were light, the toast dry. The fruit and tart might as well have been made of air.

The dining hall is packed at peak lunch hour. Alex makes her way into the line for the international foods station, hooking a white plastic tray under her arm. Dining hall staff are busying themselves all over the kitchen, one woman hauling ass to bring another tray of Alfredo tomato linguini to the service counter. When Alex gets closer to the front of the line, she greets them.

“Ladies, how are we doing today?” she asks easily.

“Runnin’ around like chickens without our heads, sweetheart. You know the deal,” Marlene says. “What can I get for you?”

“I’ll take some of that pasta if you don’t mind,” Alex says.

“Of course.” She nods, slopping a generous helping onto a porcelain plate. “Here you go.”

“Had breakfast with the dean and the mayor.”

“Ooh, hoity-toity. Fitting right in with that high society there, right hon?” another woman—Linda—asks.

“If only they knew how to cook.”

Marlene and Linda titter with laughter, smiling at her. This is the best part of her day. These women have kept her alive and fed for the past four years, keeping Alex sane on her worst days with their cooking. She thinks she’ll miss them the most.

Thank god, there is an empty table at the very edge of the dining hall. It’s just Alex and an empty chair across from her, away from the rest of the student body in a tight corner against the building’s far wall. She expects that someone will come along soon enough, asking to take the vacant chair to slide up next to their table. Spare parts, spare friendships that Alex hasn’t developed here. Sure, she’s got acquaintances—classmates she much prefers if she must take a pick of the litter. No one Alex feels a real affinity to.

Well, Reggie. She slides her palm-sized phone from the front pocket of her bag, thumbs flying over the smooth ridges of its buttons to send him a text.

What are you up to right now?

She places the phone on the table beside her tray, waiting for a buzz in response.

Surprisingly, it’s not some freshman with parents richer than God who takes the chair from her. No one takes it at all. The guy from earlier, what was his name? Marcus. He rests his right hand over the sturdy wood back of it, catching Alex’s attention.

“Anyone sitting here?” he asks.

Marcus doesn’t wait for her to answer, sliding the chair out to take a seat. Alex watches him carefully. He sets his tray down across from hers, chicken fingers and French fries in a pile on his plate.

He’s got a bad case of overconfidence. Sincere apology be damned, working at the mayor’s office has clearly gone to this guy’s head. She doesn’t say a word, watching him tear open a ketchup packet and squeeze its contents out over the starchy fries. When Marcus is done, he licks any remnants of the red sauce from his fingers.

Alex tries not to linger too long on the sight of his fingers in his mouth, focusing on the task at hand. He’s watching her watch him. He glances to the side, then cranes his neck to look behind him. Then he quirks his lip up, no teeth.

“Do I have something on my face?” Marcus asks.

At this, Alex smiles. She likes to play with her food first.

“Nope,” she says, popping the P. “You’re just fine.”

She twirls linguini noodles around the tines of her fork methodically, attention never breaking from the man in front of her. He shoves a few fries in his mouth at once. She only notices now that the sleeves of his pressed blue dress shirt have been rolled to the elbow, the expanse of his forearm bare. It draws Alex’s eyes to the rest of him. His shoulders are broad under the expensive linen, an extra button newly undone to expose a peak of his collarbone.

Her phone buzzes beside her. Alex ignores it.

“So, Marcus?”

“Hmm?”

“What’s it like working at the mayor’s office?”

Mouth half-full, he starts to answer the question. “It’s…good,” he says. With one word, he’s fallen right into her trap.

“Really?” Alex asks, taking another bite of pasta. She waits until she is finished. Chew. Swallow. Speak. “You don’t strike me as the typical audience for the halls of an institution like that.”

As she speaks, Alex watches ketchup drip off the end of a French fry already halfway inside Marcus’ mouth. It disappears behind the table, presumably landing on his pants by the way he groans.

“Shit,” he mutters. “I’m sorry, what did you say? Oh.” His brain seems to only be catching up now, realizing she’s taken his words from him.

“You know what, never mind,” Alex says. She picks up her phone and tosses it onto her tray, then grabs her bag.

“Where are you going?” Marcus asks.

“You can have the table.”

“Where’re you going to eat?”

This man and his fucking questions. “It doesn’t really matter to you, does it?” she asks.

“Why do you think that? I mean, better here than the bathroom.”

Their conversations seem to be circling each other. It’s frustrating.

Alex sets her tray back down a little too hard, the plate rattling against her baby blue Nokia. She sits again, crossing one leg over the other.

“Guys like you walk around places like this and get applauded for showing up. I would say I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you made it clear that you have—the same thing is not happening for people like me,” Alex says. “You pop out on Earth with a silver spoon up your ass just like the rest of them, but because you deigned to notice that I might be a little out of place here, we’re supposed to be…what? Friends?”

“I didn’t say—”

“You didn’t have to. It came as the expectation. Look, I’m sure you’re great and everything, but I’m really not interested in getting to know some jag who saw The Color Purple off-Broadway and thinks he can hang with the Black chick.”

“You’re wrong,” he says.

“Excuse me?”

“The silver spoon, you’re wrong. I mean sure, it’s there, but I wasn’t born with it. Certainly not a pleasure that it’s present,” Marcus says.

“Am I supposed to feel bad?” Alex asks.

Marcus chuckles, a harsh gust of air through his nose as his chest shakes lightly. He puts a chicken finger in his mouth. Chews. Swallows. Speaks. “You’re funny, you know that?”

“Hilarious,” she deadpans.

“I don’t know why they’ve got you here. Scholars’ brunch? Your talent’s wasted,” he continues. “We should get you a stand-up special.”

“We?”

“Yeah. A tight fifteen, you know, working the crowd. Who doesn’t love a beautiful woman telling jokes?” Marcus asks. Alex’s face grows hot, eyes glued to her pasta as he continues to talk. “You’re right. I can’t expect you to feel bad. Kind of a dick move of me. I don’t know you and you don’t know me.”

“Oh, I know you,” Alex says, sitting up a little straighter.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms.

“Okay,” he says, pointing at Alex with a fry between his fingers. “So who am I?”

“Rich, for starters, but anyone who has eyes can tell you that. Harry Rosen button-down, authentic leather Prada lace-ups, but your pants… Banana Republic? My guess is you ran buck wild in Neiman Marcus and went a little over budget. That’s a 200-dollar haircut that you’ve let grow out so you know you’re getting the money’s worth, and maybe you’re hoping you can style it into bangs in a few weeks once it dips past your ears,” Alex says. “You didn’t want to come here today, and you don’t like working for the mayor, because the truth is…” She leans in closer now, voice barely above a whisper. “Deep down, you’re about as out of place here as I am.”

Alex sits back up again, playing with the blush pasta on her plate. “You’re just inauthentic.” When Marcus puts his other hand on top of the table, she sees it: the yellow-gold wedding band that circles his ring finger. And married, she thinks. Of course.

She finishes her food quickly, standing from her seat. Out of politeness—not that there’s much left—Alex offers him her hand to shake. Surprisingly, he takes it.

“Lovely to meet you, Alex…?”

“Dozie. Alex Dozie,” she says.

“Marcus Pike.” He drops her hand, and she walks away.

Very pushy, very proud, very married. Alex recites these things in her head as she drops off her plate and tray, and again some more as she leaves the dining hall. She finally checks her phone, a message from Reggie waiting for her.

Class was canceled, schedule is clear…come fill up my time for me?

Alex smiles down at her screen.

It’s another early morning when Alex is called into Professor Cartier’s office. His class has been canceled; an occasion never seen before in his fifteen years teaching at Champlain. When Alex walks past the threshold of his door, she can feel something off. He smiles when he sees her, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Miss Dozie, please,” he motions towards the seat across his desk.

Alex pulls it out, quickly sitting. “Professor Cartier, I don’t know what this is about,” she says.

“You’re not in trouble. We’re interviewing all of my female students this week.”

“Oh?” That sounds bad. Or if not bad, whatever the opposite of good is.

“It has been brought to my attention that my teaching assistant, Reginald Juneau, has been having a sexual relationship with one of my undergrads.”

“Okay…”

“I’m not asking if it was you,” the professor says. “But if you know anything, or there’s anything you’d like to tell me, this is a safe space.”

Alex’s heart pounds beneath her ribs. Professor Cartier…she can’t lie to this man. He’s a beacon in the department. She wants to be him one day; an accomplished Doctor of Law, a man who fought for what was right before coming here to help people like her learn to do it all over again.

She can’t lie, but she has to. The fallout if she came clean would be unimaginable. Alex didn’t come this far to have it all come crashing down like this.  She certainly can’t do that to Reggie.

 “I’m sorry, Professor. I don’t know anything.” It comes out easy, a lie that’s oil-slick the way it pours from her mouth.

“I figured you’d say that,” Cartier sighs. “You’re not the type to…” Whatever else he was going to say gets caught up in a vague handwave. The professor stands from his chair, ready to see her out.

“What’s going to happen to him?” Alex asks suddenly. “To Re—your TA?”

“Well, he’s under temporary suspension. Whatever results of the internal affairs investigation will determine whether he must leave.”

“But?”

Cartier shakes his head. “Even if nothing does turn up, the school isn’t in the habit of keeping on potentially…problematic staff members. Liability,” he explains.

“Oh, right,” Alex nods.

Her body goes numb, limbs operating automatically as she makes her way back to her apartment. How could this have happened? Did they get too comfortable? That can’t be it. Outside the confines of this room, they were never together. Nothing more to go off of other than pure speculation. Still, someone had. And now Reggie was going to lose his job.

Harsh knocks at the door pull her out of a fugue state. The sky is much darker now than it was the last time she checked. Alex makes sure to draw the curtains shut before she answers the door. Behind it is Reggie, of course it’s him. He looks mad. No—he looks angry.

“The fuck did you do, huh?” he asks, shouldering his way into the apartment.

Alex closes the door. “Reg—”

“Don’t start, okay? I know what you did, I just want to hear you say it.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Alex says.

“Yeah, huh? Then what’s this?”

He grips the back of her neck with a firm hand, pulling her close to a wrinkled piece of paper between his fingers. Through the tears, she can read the words Letter of Termination. It’s been signed by Dean Wesley.

“I didn’t do anything!” she says again. “I promise, Reg, I would never. I-I—”

“If you say you love me, so help me God,” Reggie spits.

“I would never do that to you. To us. Come on, Reggie, think about it for two seconds.”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day!” he yells. “You know what this’ll do to me, Lex? Ruin me. This will ruin me. All that work down the fuckin’ drain, and for what? A nice piece of ass.”

“Get out,” Alex says.

“What?”

“Get. Out. Of my apartment. Right now, Reggie,” she demands. “You think I’m guilty? Fine! Sure, I did it. Whatever you need to believe. Just get the fuck out of my place. I never want to see you again.”

Reggie huffs. “Can do, Lex,” he says, making for the door. He pulls it open, stopping at the last second. “Have a nice fuckin’ life.”

The door falls shut with a slam. Alex drops slowly to the floor, clutching at her chest as sobs wrack her body. Shoulders shaking, she huddles into a tight ball. Now, she’s alone. Alex is well and truly alone.

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