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jointherebellion215 · 2 months

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His Kiss, The Riot

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x female!reader

Summary: When you and your secret lover make plain to Feyd-Rautha your wishes for a life together, despite the proposed arranged marriage, he surprisingly acquiesces. But he can't let you go so easily, can he? Loosely based on the song from Hadestown.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: manipulation, Dark!Feyd-Rautha, arranged marriage, NONCON elements, gore, violence, she/her pronouns, female!reader, tragedy, star-crossed lovers, songfic, not quite a happy ending (oops), dark dark dark interpretations of Hadestown and the story of Orpheus and Eurydice.

A/N: Thank you to everyone who read If It's True and liked, reblogged, or commented. I appreciate every single one of you. As always, I would love some feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs if you can :)

This is Part Two to my Feydestown trilogy (I'm so sorry for the pun). You can read Part One here.

AO3

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Dune properties, characters, or storylines-- nor do I own anything related to Hadestown. The images used in this are not my own, and any similarities to stories or events other than what are directly referenced are strictly coincidence.

The devil takes this Orpheus

And his belladonna kiss

“So you wanna get married? Take away the woman I just offered my hand to, to whom I all but have legal claim?”

Your beloved’s replied words of affirmation to his words hold the slightest tremor, but like a dog to fresh meat, Feyd-Rautha sniffs this out immediately. Another smile graces his face. Feyd speaks to the crowd now, “Yes, I was promised the Lady’s hand in marriage. But! I am a benevolent figure, so I guess I’ll let the lovebirds go.”

The crowd starts to give polite applause, while your knees grow weak at the news. You can go? Has love really prevailed on this day?

“However,” and with that, your heart drops “I have some conditions for these… nuptials.”

You could sense the air growing thick with tension as the reality of the na-Baron’s ruling twists out of your favor.

“Conditions?” You whispered.

“Of course, my darling! I can’t make this too easy on you, now can I?” Feyd paces back and forth on the steps from which he speaks, making your eyes dart back and forth with each step he takes. Vigilance overtakes your body in case of any rash decisions.

“You two can leave the city, but it won’t be hand in hand. This pair will have to walk in single file, with the boy in the front and my darling Lady at least thirty paces behind. No ships, no speeders, no running. Walking.”

The energy of the room starts to grow more electric as the points of this term seem to set in.

“The Lady cannot speak out or make any indication of her following behind. You’ll be faced forward the whole journey. Once you reach the edge of the city and passed the threshold, you can be together for eternity.”

Your breath hitched. Seems easy enough, right?

“But, if the boy so much as turns his head to check and see if the Lady is following, the deal is off. She’ll return to me, and we will be married.”

Nothing makes a man so bold

As a woman’s smile and a hand to hold

“Is this a trick?” Your beloved asks plainly.

Feyd tilts his head, pacing down the steps to ground level. “Now, what makes you say that? I’m being generous. I’ve set my terms.” He is now nose-to-nose with the man attached to you.

“Now meet them or face the consequences.”

The hand holding yours is now pooled with sweat. You quickly and subtly jerk the arm of your beloved when he starts to protest, not recognizing a gift when he sees one. You bow, the picture of poise and grace that you were raised to be. There is still time to leave with all of your limbs intact, you could not afford to slip up now.

“We offer our most sincere gratitude, my Lord na-Baron. Thank you for this most auspicious opportunity. We will not squander it.”

Your beloved gives a clumsy bow to match yours. Feyd’s manic smile grows as he clasps his hands together. The sound echoes through the hall.

“So it shall begin!”

But all alone his blood runs thin

And doubt—doubt comes in

The pair of you hold hands, side-by-side, at the entrance of the palace gates. A crowd has followed you to the edge, with onlookers from the outside spectating the unexpected appearance of a noble. Occurrences like this did not happen often, if ever.

“You heard the terms. The Lady must walk thirty steps behind. She must not speak to you.” Your hands reluctantly separate, following the orders you were given. You can feel your heart pounding with each step that you take away from each other.

“Some of my guard will accompany you, to ensure that you comply to the letter.” Four Harkonnen warriors step forward and encase you in a square formation, leaving the love of your life alone and vulnerable. He looks back towards you, fear and doubt creeping into his eyes. You nodded at him, believing that you could succeed in your task. That you would prevail.

“You may begin.” Feyd voices, and with that—you start your journey. Step by step, you walk further through the foliage that immediately surrounds the castle gates and into the city square.

Once you and your beloved reach the horizon, Feyd turns to walk past the crowd and back into the corridor.

Your father, the Duke, bows quickly and offers his gratitude, but is ignored as the younger Harkonnen goes to gather his blade and shield. With a yell, he summons his guards to formation. As Feyd checks the integrity of his weapon, one of the Baron’s advisors tentatively steps towards him.

“My Lord, perhaps you should consider letting them go—” In the blink of an eye, the man is silenced with a swift slash to the throat. Blood spills through the advisor’s hands as he struggles to put pressure on the opening. His body flops to the floor and Feyd carelessly steps over the writhing body to march forward.

“Let’s go fetch my bride.”

Dangerous this jack of hearts

It had been almost an hour of walking by this point. There had been almost a dozen times where you wanted to give any audible indication to your lover that you were here. A whisper, a whistle, a stomp of your foot. Anything. But now you could see the edge of the city, you could almost taste it.

A life with your love was within reach.

The guards accompanying you shifted inward, almost boxing you in. You were hopeful, but nerves were creeping in.

This was going well. Too well.

The grand arch signifying the edge of the city was above your lover now. The field that you used to meet at in secret lay just beyond it. You’re almost there. Just twenty more steps and you could be together, forever.

He steps over the threshold, you see his shoulders lift and fall in an exhale. Then, the man you had fallen in love with— who you wholly believe in— slowly turns his head to lock eyes with you. A pale figure steps out from behind a pillar accompanying the arch.

The growing smile on your face immediately falls. You call out his name.

Oh no.

The na-Baron tsked and shook his head, as if scolding a child. Harkonnen troops flanked the area, giving Feyd-Rautha enough berth to have his fun. The three of you were surrounded, but only one really had the advantage.

“You were so close!”

Your beloved held out a hand, “Wait, wait! I made it over!” He started to back away in fear, unarmed and exhausted from the long walk. Colorful, ripe foliage brushed his legs as he back into your field.

“Ah, but she didn’t. So, face the consequences.”

Then his blade pierced the man you love.

Your ears started to ring, throat working itself raw as you wailed. Tears blurred your vision, you could hear the gurgles of the blood leaving your fiancé’s mouth and the slosh of his newly disemboweled entrails hitting the lush field before you.

With his kiss, the riot starts

His body made a sick thud on the floor, and your body jumped along with it.

You ran towards your dead lover, cradling his face and sobbing for the soul that was just ripped away from you. He didn’t deserve such a violent end. His only crime was loving you and being loved in return.

A chuckle sounded from above you, and you turned your tear-stained face to the brutal Harkonnen. He was covered in the blood of your lover, his spoils of war staining his pale skin. Black teeth on full display, his shoulders gave a slight shake as he expressed his humor. His laughter sparked a rage in you like you’d never seen before. It didn’t matter what bonds you may or may not have formed over the conversations you had the last week. He’s a monster. He needs to pay for what he’s done.

Red flooded your vision.

With a roar, you lunged for the man. His laugh grew more manic as you smacked, punched, kicked, and hit every visible part of him that you could identify. In your grief, every ounce of training that you received flew out the window. He took every blow with a smile, as if he enjoyed the punishment you were attempting to bestow on him.

“There we go, my darling. Show me your pain. Your rage!”

Your mind started to clear with the more hits you landed. With a quick swipe, you had the weapon that killed your beloved against the naBaron’s neck. The Harkonnen soldiers immediately stepped forward, but Feyd stopped them with a wave of his arm.

“Ah ah ah! Leave her be.” His grin almost split his face in half, specks of dried blood making a painting of his face.

“Do it. Go ahead, come on.”

He pressed his neck forward, purposefully putting pressure on his own blade. Fresh blood started to trickle down his neck, adding to the gallons already spread all over his uniform.

The shock of his willingness to put his life on the line made you hesitate, which made him cackle in your face. Your anger made you draw the blade back and slice it across his chest. A groan left Feyd’s mouth,

“Good girl.”

An unexpected thunk to the head made your vision start to spin. Feyd’s arms braced around you, slowly lowering you to your knees and down to a lying position. He cradled your head as if you were a precious commodity, when he leaned forward and captured your limp lips with his.

As black started swallowing your vision, you heard him say,

“Don’t worry, my darling bride. It’ll all be alright. You won’t feel a thing.”

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lowkeyerror · 22 days

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The Family Business Ch.8

WandaNatxReader

Word Count: 3k

Ch notes: Angst, Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: The family copes with the situation revolving Dragos

An: Sorry for posting so late.... hope you like it. Also posting from my phone, so sorry formatting issues.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“ Enough time has passed Wanda. We have to act now before we lose everything,” you speak to the woman in her office.

“I'm not ready for war Y/n,” She tries to dismiss you.

“Detka, I think she’s right. If we wait any longer it could, everything your father built would be over,” Natasha backs you up.

Wanda puts her head down on the desk, "I don't think I can do this.”

“It’s just like we planned, Wanda. Nat and I have everything on standby to close the ports, we’re just waiting on your word,” you speak softly to her.

“Fine, just do it,” she waves her hand, but doesn’t move her face from it’s place on the desk.

She had been like this for nearly two weeks. The shooting of her father seemed to hit her the hardest. She felt like she wasted too much time away from him and now he was gone.

The only way you were functioning was hope that he would wake up. He wasn’t gone, he was just in a coma. People recover from being in comas, they wake up. You just keep telling yourself that Dragos would be waking up soon.

“Wanda, maybe you should go home, I can handle this,” your eyes are full of worry, but your voice is firm.

“I’m capable of running this business Y/n,” she snaps back at you.

“ I know you are, that’s why they put you in charge. However, this is not a one man job Wanda. Dragos had days where he needed someone to take charge. I’m one of those people. Whether he’s sitting in that seat or you’re sitting in that seat, I’m going to continue to be that person. Now go home.”

She looks at you with something you’ve never seen before. It makes your brow furrow. The intensity of her stare isn’t malicious, but it’s unfamiliar to you.

“I’ll take you baby,” Nat offers, taking Wanda’s attention away from you.

Wanda takes one more look at you before agreeing to go with her wife.

“Stop by after work, I don’t care how late it is,” her demand makes you want to gulp, but you hold it and nod.

She’s out of the door first. You share a look with Natasha as you take s seat at the desk.

“I’ll be back, I can have everything ready for tonight,” the spy says.

“Thank you, Natasha.”

She leaves and you get to work immediately. You call in your dealers and suppliers to inform them of potential uptick in all products your pushing to prepare them adequately. You call your supposed allies, you’re vague but they know it’s a threat. More than threat, but a test of loyalty. Some of them dismiss you as you aren’t Dragos, but you’re sure by morning they’ll come around or go out of business.

There had been too much silence on your side of the business. Fisk was parading around the city saying that he killed Dragos. The lack of movement from your side of things only made it seem true.

Wanda had been placed temporarily in charge of the business while Dragos was out of commission. However, she wasn't emotionally prepared for this yet. None of you were in actuality, you all needed more time.

“ Where’s Wanda?” Pietro strolls into the office.

Your eyes are locked on the screen, “ Sent her home.”

“You’re running things today?”

You nod, “We’re going through with the plan to shut down the pier tonight. I put out some feelers, stayed pretty vague. I know they'll get on board when there's no other option.”

“You sound like him,” Pietro chuckles.

“I hope so, I got brushed off by one too many people over the phone. We need to let them know we aren’t weak. We will not be usurped, we are this city and it’s time to remind them.”

Pietro agrees, “My eyes and ears on the street have been telling me about Kingpin He’s telling others he fixed the Maximoff issue. We need to get a handle on this.”

“They will be dealt with and I’ll save Fisk for last. Next time I wont miss when I shoot,” your jaw clenches.

“How are you holding up?” He asks, taking in your appearance.

The bags under your eyes spoke for themselves. You hadn’t been sleeping well, getting 3 hours seems like a blessing some days.

“Not well, but I’ll be alright.”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

You sigh, “How can I rest well, knowing that the man who has taken someone important from me walks around the streets celebrating it? It’s like he’s taunting me.”

Pietro’s hand lands on your shoulder, “We’re going to get him Y/n, I swear.”

Natasha strolls back into the room, “I’ve got everything set we're just waiting on nightfall.”

“Good, I’m almost done here. I’ve got some paperwork to get through and if it’s not too late, maybe we can carpool?”

Natasha smiles, “I’ll wait for you, it’s no problem.”

“I guess we’ll leave you to it Don Y/n,” Pietro jokes as he pats your shoulder before exiting the office, Natasha’s following behind him.

The paperwork takes longer than expected. You’re exhausted by the end of it, your eyes are strained as you finish the last of it up.

When Natasha comes to check on you , she can tell you’ve dissociated from the work you’re doing. It looks mindless yet stressful at the same time. You don’t even notice she's standing there for another 10 minutes.

“Ok you’re done, lisichka. Time to go home,” Natasha’s voice startles you.

You give her little protest, moving out of the seat. Your bones crack and you let out a yawn as you grab your belongings.

“Wanda’s going to need help tomorrow. The lines should be busy. We can open them up so Kate and I can help filter orders,” you mumble as you leave the office.

“No more work talk, we’re out of the office,” Natasha reminds you.

You let out a tired laugh, “Now you’re sounding like a Maximoff."

“I am married to one,” she says as the two of you get in her car.

“I don't know who's luckier you or her.”

Natasha quirks an eyebrow as she begins to dive, “I’m pretty sure it's me.”

“You’re good for her too; don't discredit yourself. Wanda has always been a caregiver of sorts. She wants to take care of everyone. It's nice to see she has someone who can take care of her,” your eyes begin to close as you speak.

“You’ve taken care of her before. When she was fighting with Pietro, the whole situation with Dragos; you kept her grounded,” Natasha points out.

You shrug lightly, “I couldn't when I was younger.”

Natasha glances at your nearly sleeping figure, “You were just a child, lisichka.”

“I was fragile, she needed someone strong,” you feel sleep overtaking you.

Natasha goes to respond, but hears you snoring softly, “I don't think you could've ever been fragile.”

The spy doesn't wake you when you arrive at the condo. Instead she carefully removes you from the car and carries you up to her door. She rings the bell unable to get her keys while holding you.

When Wanda opens the door her eyes soften at the sight of you asleep in her wife’s arm.

“I didn't want to wake her. I overheard her telling Pietro she hasn't been sleeping,” Nat explains to her wife.

“Just lay her in our bed,” Wanda says, and Natasha complies.

Wanda heads to the kitchen, unable to sleep. She stays to make herself some tea.

“She cares about you a lot,” Natasha says meeting her wife in the kitchen.

Wanda just hums a response.

“You care about her a lot too,” Natasha looks to meet her wife’s gaze.

“Astute observation, sweetheart,” Wanda responds dryly.

Natasha steps into Wanda’s personal space, “You know what I’m insinuating then?”

Wanda finally looks at her wife, “No I don’t.”

“I think you're in love with her,” Natasha is gentle when she speaks.

Wanda laughs, “What are you talking about? Y/n is a part of my family. I’ve cared for her for years; healed her wounds, held her when she cried, taught her how to defend herself. Natasha, she was barley turning 17 when I met her.”

“I see the way you look at her Wanda. It’s the same way you look at me,” her tone doesn’t convey anger or sorrow.

Wanda’s laughter has yet to die down, “She’s my little brother’s best friend.”

“Then tell me why she can ground you the same way I can? Her touch calms you, her look quiets you, and her figure causes your eyes to drift. Just be honest with me Wanda.”

“Look, I love Y/n. I would do anything to keep her safe, but there’s nothing between us romantically,” Wanda gets serious for the first time in the conversation.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “You lost your mind about something from 5 years ago involving her, you were in tears when you couldn't attend her graduation, you talked about her more than your brother, mother, and father.”

Wanda’s eyes shift for a second, it’s the only sign Natasha needs. Her hand reach for her wife’s. Her thumbs pad the back of Wanda’s hand.

“Baby-”

“Natasha I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she tries to escape but Natasha won’t let her.

“Talk to me, detka.”

For a moment it seems like Wanda is going to talk it out with her wife. However a commotion in their bedroom puts brakes to the conversation.

They both rush in that direction. In the bedroom they find you fighting in your sleep. You’re thrashing, punching, and screaming.

Wanda’s eyes go wide at the sight. The distress on your face send her into fight or flight. She wants to help, but she’s unaware of what to do.

Natasha on the other hand has had her fair share of life like nightmares. She knows how delicate of a situation that they can be.

“Easy lisichka, it’s not real,” Natasha’s voice is firm as she speaks, slowly inching towards you.

Natasha’s hand slowly reaches for your forearm. The action cause you to jerk, but Natasha is unflinching. Her hands trailing up and down your arm trying to calm you.

“Baby you’re safe here,” Natasha slips her fingers between yours.

It’s sudden the way you jolt forward into consciousness. Natasha’s arms wrap around you securely as your chest heaves up and down.

Wanda joins your side, hand running through your hair, “It’s ok, you’re ok. You’re safe little krolik.”

You sniffle a couple of times. Before realizing the position you're in. You sit in a bed that you can only assume belongs to the two women, that are slowing your erratic heart rate.

“I uh- I fell asleep in the car,” you say pushing the women away from you slightly.

You wipe the sweat from your forehead and then rub at your eyes roughly. The feeling of embarrassment starts to creep in on you.

“ You did, exhausted from all that work and no sleep,” Natasha says.

You nod lightly, “As you can see I have a hard time with sleeping.”

“It’s like that every night?” Wanda’s voice was laced with concern.

You try to laugh it off, “I get by with the little sleep I get before the nightmares.”

“Y/n, we’re being serious,” Wanda’s use of your actual name startles you a bit.

You take a deep breath, “Nearly every night since the shooting. But I’m a big girl guys, I’ve got it under control.”

“Wanda’s been having trouble sleeping too. If I leave just for a second, she starts panicking pretty bad,” Natasha mentions, causing her wife to glare at her.

Wanda crosses her arms over her chest defensively and that’s how you know Natasha is telling the truth.

“I’ve been trying to run a company and a business. There’s no time for a comfortable rest.”

It was your turn to give a stern look, “You won’t be able to lead well if all your senses are weakened from lack of sleep.”

“And how much sleep did you get last night before so graciously kicking me out of the office today?” She counters and your face heats up.

“It's not like I don't want to sleep. I’ve tried a bunch of shit, but nothing is enough for the nightmares. It’s triggering, you know because not only are the nightmares themselves intense, but having them in the first place reminds me the ones I used to have about my family.”

Though you've arguably been vulnerable with both of these women before, it feels harder this time. It feels like they are seeing a piece of you that is supposed to be neatly tucked away. Yet you’re too tired to hide it and you trust them not to use it against you.

“If you’re comfortable with it, I know something that might help,” Natasha offers.

“I’m willing to try anything,” you give her your full attention.

“Stay here with us tonight,” her eyes pierce through yours.

“Here as in…”

“The bed, yes,” Natasha elaborates.

Almost reflexively you look to Wanda to find her staring at her wife. The look isn’t entirely inviting and you take note of that.

You look directly towards Wanda as you speak, “I don't want to impose or be anymore of an inconvenience than I already have. I can actually just go home and try again.”

You attempt to get out of bed, but Wanda places a hand on your chest, keeping you down, “Y/n, you will never be an inconvenience to me. I don't want to keep you here if you’re uncomfortable, but if Nat thinks this could help you then I think it’s worth a shot.”

Your skin is hot under her hand, and you hope she can’t feel the way your heart is beating. It truly shouldn’t feel like such a big deal, you’ve laid with Wanda before . You knew what it was like to have her arms tightly secured around you while she played with your hair until your nerves died. Something about it felt more innocent then.

Now that you were both adults and Wanda was married, it almost seemed like crossing a line.

“What if this works?” You say looking between the couple. They share a quick look at each other before fixing their eyes on you.

“ We’ll cross that bridge when we get there lisichka. We should all get some rest, tomorrow will be very hectic for everyone,” Natasha again reassures you.

“ Do you want something more comfortable to sleep in?” Wanda says, as she pinches the fabric of your work shirt.

You nod lightly and not even a second later Natasha is shoving some pajamas in your hand. She points you to the direction on the restroom and you go leaving the two redheads alone for a moment.

“Natalia,” Wanda’s voice is low and cold as she speaks to her wife.

Natasha shrugs, “What was I supposed to do, Wanda? Did you see the poor girl?”

“You did this to prove a point,” Wanda keeps her voice down with much effort.

“I think you’re doing that all on your own. This is simply helping a friend out. It’s not like you haven’t shared bed with her before,” Natasha shoots back.

“T-this is different,” she stumbles over her words.

“Why?” Natasha raises an eyebrow at her wife.

“Can we drop this please?” Wanda looks away.

Her wife reaches to caress her face, “Detka, we can drop it for now but sooner or later we’re going to have to talk about your feelings.”

Wanda draws in a large breath . She focuses on the way Natasha’s thumb cascades across her cheek.

She looks at her wife, “I love you. More than anything Natalia. I would never put you through anything that I think would hurt us. This to me is the most important everything .”

“I’m not doubting that baby. I’m not asking you this question to make you pick between the two, I just want some clarity,” Natasha kisses Wanda briefly after speaking.

Before Wanda can speak again you’re back in the room. You stand awkwardly as the couple behind you to the bed.

“So, how does this work? Do you want me on the edge or in the middle or..?”

“We’re following your lead little krolik."

Alarms go off in your brain but the aren't loud enough in your sleep deprived state. You take your place at the edge of the bed, closest to Wanda.

You try your best to keep your arms stiffly to yourself. There isn't any chance that you'd willingly embarrass yourself further.

It would be so easy to put your arm around her waist. The more you think the less sleep you get.

Wanda can sense the tense state of your body. Natasha words echo in her mind and it causes her to hesitate. Usually she would’ve already taken initiative to make sure you were comfortable. However here she was, scared that the feeling of your arms around her would send her into an overload.

“Can I- ” your sentence is aided by the action of your hand coming to rest respectfully on her stomach.

Wanda doesn’t speak but her hand lands gently over yours, keeping it in place. You relax at the action and unintentionally pull the woman closer to you. Her back is flush against your front as soft snores fall from your lips. You fall asleep instantly.

She doesn't want to admit it, but being this close to you makes her heart thunder in her chest. She feels warm in your hold. It’s a new feeling.

Being held by you is different than holding you herself. Her free hand reaches out for her wife. Natasha scoots closer, to be face to face with Wanda. Her hand interlaces itself with Wanda’s.

Natasha kisses the back of Wanda’s hand, “I love you.”

“Love you more,” Wanda whispers as her eyes flutter shut.

The three women lay together. For once their minds are quiet as they sleep. It’s peaceful, something that they can revel in before the storm of the morning disrupts their peace.

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lexxiie · 1 year

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can we have lov trio + overhaul discovering that their s/o had been cheating on them? 🥺

When They Think You Cheated

Omg, anon, no! I'm so bad at writing break ups, so I'll change the concept a bit to them believing their s/o is cheating, but she's not.

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Featuring: Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Overhaul.

TOMURA SHIGARAKI

Tomura is an insecure man. That is no secret to either of you, however, he understands how his insecurities may harm your relationship, so most of the time he voices them out so that you can both talk about them, and you always end up reassuring him.

Today, though, he cannot, for the life of him, think of a way to talk out the fact that you have a hickey on your neck. What is there to talk about? The truth that he ignored was that you accidentally burnt your neck earlier this morning while doing your hair, it would've never occured to him, especially when he was as angry as he is right now, observing your neck, a thin layer of make up attempting to cover the mark, but failing. Why would you even hide it if there was a reasonable explanation? He knew for a fact that he didn't left that on your neck.

As much as he wanted to yell at you and dispose of all his rage, truth was that he was really hurt, and so everything he managed to do was confront the reality with resignation. "Who did that?" He asked calmly, but you could hear bitterness in his voice. "What?" You asked, not very sure what he meant. He looked at you angrily now, it was very clear. "Who's the guy that you are seeing? Or do you just happen to have a different one every now and then? You know, I always thought of you as a smart girl, but it is very stupid of you to let them leave your neck like that, you could've tried harder to hide it." You finally understood what was going on... Oh god. He tried to sound as if he didn't care, cold and indifferent, but you knew how incredibly hurt he was.

You immediately got up and approached him, reaching for his face, but he moved to avoid your touch. "Tomura, look, it's a burn mark, I did it with my straightener, I swear." He looked at you through narrowed eyes, still not believing you. You rushed to your room and came back with your straightener in hand, turning it on and attempting to place it on your arm, but Tomura immediately stopped you. "Are you crazy?" The man scolded you, and you looked at him desperately. "It is a burn, I swear." You repeated. Now starting to doubt himself, Tomura then reached for your neck, caressing it softly with his thumb, rubbing a bit of the make up off. You were right. Oh no. He truly felt like a fucking asshole. The man sighed before pressing his forhead against yours. "I'm truly sorry, (Y/n). I'm so, so sorry." You were just relieved it all ended. He spent the rest of the evening tending to your wound, scolding you for putting make up on when it was still so fresh and kissing your cheeks in hopes you would forgive him. Never again will he act like that, that's for sure.

TOUYA TODOROKI | DABI

Touya sits silently on the edge of the bed as he observes the hotel recipt he found under the bed. It dates a week back, when you were supposed to go on a work trip at a completely different city than the one this hotel was at. Now, he can be very confident some days, and very insecure some other days. This is one of the latter days, evidently. In moments like this, thousands of thoughts run through his mind. Why? Is it because of the scars? But you said you didn't care. Did you lie? Of course you did, who would actually choose him over anyone else? He feels stupid, and so heartbroken. He loves you. He really does, and now all of this hurt has turned into uncontrolable anger.

He stands up and walks to the kitchen, where you turn around to smile at him as soon as you hear him coming, only to be greeted by his beautiful blue eyes contorted in pure rage. He must be a very scary adversary to his enemies. "What the fuck is this, (Y/n)?!" He asks while holding the recipt in his hand, speaking those words through gritted teeth, as if his jaw was frozen because of how angry he is.

"Wait, Touya, is not what it looks lik-" The villain slammed his fist on the kitchen island, flames emanating from it. "It's not?! Really, (Y/n)? Do you really think i'm this fucking stupid?” He is now yelling, very loudly. He starts getting closer to you, and you start walking backwards, trembling. He then takes one more step forward and you raise your arms as if you wanted to protect yourself. Now Touya is the one walking backwards. He would never hurt you, but as he took a step back, he realized that it really looked like it. Did you think that he was gonna incinerate you? Did you think he was about to hit you? The look on your eyes was too familiar, he had seen it in his mother's eyes way too many times. He sighed deeply as he burried his face in his hands. It seemed like he wanted to wake up from a nightmare, and then, as seconds went by and he wasn't lifting his head, you realized he might have started to cry, though he would never let you see him.

"That day-" you started speaking after several minutes, "I decided to stay at a different city because I heard about it being quiet and pretty. I thought maybe I could rent an apartment there, so you wouldn't be at risk. There isn't many people, it is indeed quiet, no one would recognize you, so I looked at a few places. There isn't anyone else I'm seeing, just apartments." Touya finally lifted his head from his hands, and you could see the relief in his eyes, but also a lot of guilt. A lot of it. He got closer, kneeling before you, pressing his forehead to your body, his hands clenching the coat that covered the sides of your frame. This was him apologizing. You caressed his hair softly, everything would be okay.

KAI CHISAKI | OVERHAUL

He trusts you, he really does, but what is he supposed to believe when you tell him that you are going to the grocery store and you lie. He went there to help you in case you had bought too many stuff since it was taking you a while, but you were nowhere to be found. Minutes later, you come home, smelling like men's cologne that clearly wasn't his own.

God, this can't be happening, he thinks to himself. You walk to him, hoping to get a kiss from the yakuza, but instead you are greeted with a cold stare, his lips don't move when you place yours over them. "Where were you?" He asks visibly angry. "At the grocery store." You answered showing him the two bags on your hands. "All of these hours just for that? You really don't want to piss me off, (Y/n). Not more than you already did." Now his tone sounds like a threat, and you get defensive. "What is that supposed to mean?" You ask him. You have always hated whenever he would talk to you like you were one of his men, and he knew that. "Where did you actually go?" Unbelievable. You still didn't quite understand where he was trying to get, but you did know that you didn't like the way he was interrogating you. "Did you go out to meet with someone?" He asked, this time, impatience ruled over his voice. Okay, so he thinks you are cheating. great.

Leting out a heavy sigh, you dropped your bags on the floor and approached the hurting man before you. Much to your surprise, he allowed you to take his face in your hands. "I went out to get you a new cologne, I noticed you ran out of the last one I gave you. I wanted it to be a surprise, but it is in the car, in case you wish to have it now."

God, did he feel like an idiot right now... You could tell that he was beating himself up mentally. The worst part of it was that he felt truly relieved that you hadn't fallen out of love with him yet. Despise him attempting to seem indifferent earlier, he felt like his whole world was crumbling down before him. Kai then took your hands in his, kissing them softly. "I'm truly very sorry, darling." He said sincerly. "It's okay, I should've made up a better excuse anyway." You replied smiling gently. He couldn't help but smile back, still embarrassed with himself. He compensated you treating you to dinner that night. Kai saw himself realizing how strong he felt about you. The sole idea of you leaving made him feel vulnerable and terrified for the very first time in a while. He was going to need to learn how to trust you more if he didn't want to lose you.

KEIGO TAKAMI | HAWKS

The pro hero had a lot of work all of the time. He would get home late very often, many times closer to sunrise than midnight. Of course, it was only logical for you to be asleep at those hours, which was always the case. Except for last week.

He had gotten home very late, but still earlier than usual, expecting to find his lover on his bed, hoping he could hold on to you for a couple of hours before he had to get to work once again, but you weren't there. Naturally, he freaked out, but just as he was about to go looking for you everywhere, the main door flew open. He hid on the bathroom, in case it was someone else, but all he saw was you getting on the bed and falling asleep almost instantly.

He let that incident go. He gave you the benefit of the doubt, he gave you his trust. This despite the uneasy feeling in his chest, however, today, you weren't on the bed either. Now the doubt felt very real. What on earth could you be doing at 4 am? He waited a couple of minutes, until you finally got home. The hero was trying his very best not to break down when he saw you. He couldn't remember the last time he felt this hurt. "That other bed must be really comfortable." He accused, startling you as you obviously weren't expecting to see him yet. "What?" you asked, a bit disoriented. "You heard me." Keigo then stood up from the couch, walking towards you. "How long have you been sneaking out for, huh? Cause this is the second time I witness this already" You realized how this looked immediately. Oops.

"Listen, Keigo, I'm not sleeping with anyone else. In fact, I'm not sleeping at all." The man looked at you confused now, all of the anger he previously showed you slowly disappearing. "I have been having trouble sleeping, so i go out and take walks in hopes i'll get tired, I'm sorry I worried you, yes?" You assured your lover as you took his hands in yours, offering him a tired smile. "But why? You used to sleep well before..." All of his previous worries seemed to be forgotten as soon as he realized how tired you looked, his hands roaming your face, as if they would figure out what had changed. "Yes, that was before you would leave all night, I guess I'm a bit more anxious now." You confessed. He felt very bad for adding to your already bad night with his insecurities. Soon after, though, Keigo managed to change his schedule, making sure to spend every night holding you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't miss you too. As for that particular night, he prepared you a tea and talked about his day until he made sure you had fallen asleep.

MASTERLIST

#bnha scenarios #bnha headcanon #bnha fic #bnha x reader #boku no hero academia #tomura shiragaki #dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #hawks headcanons #keigo takami imagine #kai chisaki x reader #overhaul x reader #mha x reader #my hero academia

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nolita-fairytale · 8 months

Text

what it would be like meeting mikey berzatto as the most important person in carmy's life:

a/n: ok so it is in fact canon in my 'make my heart surrender' series that the main character never got to meet mikey. however, i've been thinking a lot about what it would be like if she had met him when she and carmy were working together in new york so i wrote a lil somethin' about it. it can absolutely be read as a standalone piece with a pastry!chef reader.

takes place october 2021; reader x carmy are best friends and colleagues but it has not gone further than that.

trigger warnings: drug usage, high mikey b, swearing, family drama, depression

how you end up meeting mikey:

halloween weekend of 2021. mikey ends up in new york city for the weekend because he followed a weekend fling for a party. they got into a huge fight over who knows what, and he finds himself in new york city, figuring he might as well go see his brother.

it's a busy night at the new-york-city-fine-dining-establishment-that-shall-not-be-named, carmy is knee deep in expediting while the pastry side just happens to be overstaffed.

your general manager, kate, comes in, letting them know that there's a man outside who's asking for carmy. "he says he's your brother." "my brother?" while carmy doesn't think he can step away, in one shared look, you decide to go since you're his best friend -- the only one he trusts to handle it anyways.

you head out to the front of the restaurant to address the situation finding michael standing outside of the restaurant, pacing on the sidewalk. you recognize him from photos, but he looks different, and it's not hard to figure out that he's kind of strung out -- high on something, though you're uncertain of what.

"you're not carm." "no, i'm not. sorry, but carmy couldn't come out. so he sent me." "shit... the guy can't even make time to see his big brother?" "i don't think he was expecting you." you watch as michael's eyebrows rise in reaction to your comment. "he would if he could. it's just... we're doing 400 covers tonight and uh... well, he runs the kitchen so." disappointedly, as if he's accepted that he's not going to see carmy after all, he says, "yeah yeah okay... i didn't know i'd be here either. i just, i -- i gotta catch a flight anyways. will you let him know that mikey stopped by?" "of course."

by the time you get back in the kitchen, you want to protect carmy from the state michael was in so you don't mention the fact that he was high. "what did he want?" "just wanted to stop by. i think he uh... found himself in the city. surprise trip or something." but carmy doesn't completely buy it, instead, focuses, head down on finishing dinner service.

at the end of the night, carmy offers to walk you home, so the two of you head out of the restaurant, eager to unwind from a long night. as you're leaving, michael's still waiting outside of the restaurant and he doesn't look great -- looks like he's coming down from whatever you assume he took.

"michael, what're you doing here?" carmy asks, in shock that he's even here in the first place. "thought i'd come surprise you." "i mean, what're you doing here? in new york?" mikey sighs, a smirk on his face as he answers with: "never trust chicks on motorcycles, carm. they'll leave you high and dry in a brooklyn loft for a few good lines of coke. he chuckles. and while he doesn't exactly find it funny, carmy makes his best effort to try and laugh too, it coming out more like a dry exhale. mikey pivots, as if he's putting on a well-practiced happy face, though there's a sadness in your eyes that you think may haunt you for the rest of your life.

"i'm sorry. where the fuck are my manners? i'm mikey. mikey berzatto. i'm this jagoff's brother." you introduce yourself, and mikey's enthusiastically corralling you to grab a drink with him. carmy keeps looking over at you as if he's checking in, trying to get a read on you as he hesitates to answer. cautiously, you agree, wanting carmy to spend time with his brother. "one drink," he warns mikey.

the three of you make your way to a bar across the street that's open late, and as soon as michael has his first drink, it's like he's a completely different person. he's charming, larger than life, quite the storyteller and you see a side of carmy that you've never seen before. as you watch him listen to his brother, you can see just how much he admires his older brother. while you know carmy is hurt that michael barely calls or makes an effort to keep in touch, sitting here with him now, you can see the way that carmy looks at him -- like he put the stars, the moon, and the sun in the sky. there's a deep admiration and he's almost childlike in the way that he looks up to him.

after the first round, you head to bathroom, wanting to give him and mikey the time. carmy had promised one drink, but you're open to staying if he wants more time with his brother.

"this your girl, carm" "mikey, stop it." "then please tell me you're hittin' that." "michael!" carmy hushes his brother, a warning and protectiveness in his voice as he does. "are you fuckin' serious right now? what, you're teling me you're not?" "she's.... my friend." "shit. wish i had a friend like that. ya friends or are ya... you know... friends?" carmy just shakes his head, jaw clenched, glaring at michael, wishing he'd stop. "shit, i thought i taught you better than that, bear." "just friends. i'm serious, mike. cut it out." "oh come on! the chick's smokin' fuckin' hot. and i can tell that you like her. i'm not blind, bear. i see the way you-."

it's that sentence that pushes carmy in a way that he doesn't like at all. "don't talk to me like you know what's going on in my life." "carm-." "can't even pick up the damn phone and then you just... waltz into town acting like everything is okay?" "well, if you ever bothered to come home. you know mom's been askin' about you. never fuckin' call her-." "oh don't bring mom into this!"

when you return from the bathroom, there is a palpable tension between the two of them that you're not sure how to navigate the thick silence stewing with things left unsaid.

"everything okay?" you ask.

"i think we should go," carmy grits out, clearly upset over the conversation that just transpired between them. "uh... yeah, okay." "it was nice meetin' you sweetheart," mikey grunts, an empty shot glass that wasn't there previously on the bar top. carmy noticeably rolls his eyes at mikey's comment as you grab your things and close out your tab.

on the walk home, you ask: "you wanna talk about it?" "not really," carmy answers. he's quiet on the way home and you can tell whatever was said between the two of them really hurt him. as you finally get to your place, carmy sighs, as if he's ready to get something off his chest. "thank you. for doing that." "for what?" "for comin' along. even though it like... colossally blew up." "you ever gonna tell me what happened?" he shrugs, "i don't know." "okay... well, while i wait for you to burst like a pressure cooker, then inevitably spill the beans," you begin, and he smiles, because you know him too well. "wanna come up for a movie or something? get your mind off of it? it's halloween. maybe i'll even let you talk me into a scary movie this time." you finish asking him. and it's the moment that carmy realizes that you're such a breath of fresh air, especially in contrast with his earlier encounter with mikey. "uh.. yeah. think i'd like that."

the two of you go up to your place, put on a movie, and end up falling asleep on the couch together, only to pretend the next morning that it's not that big of a deal (it is, in fact, a HUGE deal).

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rikiluvly · 7 months

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TWO SIDES TO A BOY

*ੈ ✩ ‧₊˚𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒’𝓈 𝒶𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓈 𝒾𝓈𝓃’𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒?

PAIRINGS: spiderman!riki x fem!reader

SYNOPSIS: Spider-Man is the local legend in your city and the one identity that no one can seem to figure out. but one day you and your friend Jungwon decide to do a film documentary about finding out the identity of Spider-Man, If only you had known earlier that it was your high school crush, Nishimura Riki.

GENRE: Spider-Man au, high school au, fluff, lots of crack, first person.

WARNINGS: swearing, inappropriate jokes.

WORD COUNT: 2.3k

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

If there was one word to describe Spider-Man it would be COCKY. he is this dude who wears a skin-tight latex suit and swings around the city looking for someone to save from possible danger. but while people are out here swooning over the mystery person behind the mask, I'm here swooning over Nishimura Riki.

everything about Riki is perfection. his hair, his lips, his eyes, even his figure for goddamn sake. I thought Jungwon was the maximum height for a guy until my Riki came along.

as soon as Riki joined our school he instantly became best buddies with Jungwon. my friend Jungwon, my only friend Jungwon. so because of that, I had to pull myself together and become friends with Riki too.

It was before school and me and Jungwon were walking into the school gates. we were just talking about whose mom makes the best cookies until we felt a giant breeze come from above us.

the one and only Spider-Man came swooshing through the school here to make his weekly delivery of a girl who faked she was in trouble just to get his attention. Spider-Man placed the girl down in the courtyard as everyone came rushing in to catch a glimpse of the one and only superhero.

"thank you so much Spider-Man!" the girl thanked him. the poor guy.

"your so very welcome lovely lady," he saluted and swung off to wherever he came from. a typical morning if I have to be honest. you looked behind you to watch Spider-Man swing away, but he had already disappeared. not like you cared. he was overhyped anyway.

"where the hell is Riki we have to get to first period," Jungwon grumbled. It's not surprising that he isn't here, he's quite known for being late around school.

"I dunno, don't ask me," Jungwon rolled his eyes as he took a look at his watch. his eyes widened and he clutched onto my wrist a tugged me behind him as he sprinted.

"jeez, why u so desperate to get to class won?" I asked as I got pulled through the hallway. we got a few stares but what's there to expect when I probably looked like a running chicken?

we had finally made it to class but with a few sacrifices. I now smelled like a 15-year-old boy who forgot to put on deodorant and my hair was now frizzed up to the max. Jungwon brought his hands to his knees and breathed like an old man who was at minimum lung capacity.

"okay," he took another deep breath before standing up properly. "let's go," he lifted his bag straps to sit perfectly on his shoulders and strode into class with a beaming, bright smile.

what a weirdo.

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

it was the middle of literature and me and Jungwon were thinking intensively about what our film documentary should be about. except all of our ideas were stupid.

"what about... 'why The Office UK is better than The Office US?" Jungwon said raising his eyebrows at me. he was right, The Office UK is better than the US one... but I refuse to waste time trying to convince the people in our class to choose what was an unpopular opinion.

"mmm, what abou-" suddenly and very rudely the door to our classroom slammed open. it was my Riki. all of a sudden I don't mind that my eardrums nearly exploded because of the loud noise.

"sorry I'm late miss... I overslept," he said obviously lying, but it's okay I forgive him. he looked over to me and Jungwon and smiled as he made his way over.

"not so fast Nishimura, your late so you're going to have to join another group," the teacher pointed at him. nope. I swear to god If he gets put with Wonhee I will cry. Wonhee is this girl, this girl who tries to act dumb to get guys to like her. I have also heard from a few people about how she has a crush on Riki, oh how I hate this girl.

"mmm, how about with Wonhee and Moka," I did say I would cry but it would’ve been too embarrassing. I watched him as he turned to walk toward the girl who indeed just wants Riki all to herself, she is so selfish.

after that interesting moment, me and Jungwon went back to brainstorming ideas. but my eyes just couldn't turn away from him. he’s so pretty that it hurts to see him talk to other girls, but there is no stopping it really. unless I decided to kill her but that's a bit extreme.

"ok y/n I think I got it now," maybe if I cut my hair he might like me.

"y/n, girl stop ignoring me," or if I changed my make-up routine? nah, I'm pretty enou-

"Y/N STOP STARING AT RIKI!" Jungwon screamed loud enough for the whole class to hear. I looked around only to see many stares, how embarrassing. Wonhee eyed me up and down and I couldn't bare to even look at Riki.

"Jungwon that's enough, everyone back to work," the teacher said.

"I hate you Jungwon, don't do that again or I will tell the whole class you have a crush on Moka!" I blackmailed him, obviously because that's what friends do.

"fine! fine! whatever. okay, can I tell you my idea now?" you shrugged still slightly annoyed. If Riki ever found out I liked him it would be over for me. I may as well just move to New Zealand, they've left that place out of the map a few times right?

"so I was thinking what about we do a documentary on finding out the identity of Spider-Man?" you couldn't lie it was a terribly good idea. you could have good dialogue and maybe you could really become famous for figuring out this mystery. what's the harm?

"okay then, let's do it."

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

it was lunchtime, my favourite part of the day. yummy food, gossip, and what makes it especially good is the fact that I get to sit close to Riki. It was just me and my one and only at the moment because silly Jungwon wanted to help tutor students.

"so... what did you and Jungwon decide to do for your documentary?" his deep voice spoke from across the table.

"well, we're doing 'figuring out the identity of Spider-Man'," I waved my hands out to show the vision. he didn't seem very impressed, was he mad?

"uhhh, you good Riki?" he seemed to have zoned out for a bit so I waved my hand in front of his face. didn't think I was that boring.

"huh? oh yeah I- I'm fine just eat your food," he nodded his head towards my tray. anything you say, Riki. it got a bit awkward and I really wanted to say something but he looked too lost in his thoughts.

I don't actually know what I did but this is the only time I prayed for the appearance of Jungwon. I can’t believe my friend of 10 years would do this to me.

It was the first day of year 1 and I had just walked into my new classroom. none of the other kids really caught my attention.

until I spotted this lonely boy chewing on the carpet. a bit weird I know but I just went and joined him. but then my mum got mad and his mum got mad and that's how our parents became friends. so really I'm stuck with this carpet-chewing cat the rest of my life.

but... still no sign of Jungwon. you really don't know what to say. you try to think of something that will comfort him in his time of need.

"are you sad because you're actually Spider-Man hahaha," I laughed to myself slowing stopping when I realized I wasn't funny. he didn’t seem impressed as his eyes widened and he said this.

“I actually got to go… sorry y/n,” he got up and dumped his food in the bin. why do I always mess things up?

the rest of school was terrible. apparently Jungwon had left because he had mono. the Jungwon I know has never kissed anyone in his whole life so to me that isn’t very believable.

I was just walking home thinking about what I did to mess up my interaction with Riki, until an adorable kitten came up to me.

the kitten was back and white and looked like it was wearing a suit. how are cats so relaxed? sometimes I wish I was a cat.

well maybe not this time.

the feline suddenly stood up and transformed into a frickin monster? a 9-foot cat was now in my presence and usually I'd be used to seeing weird and strange things around town, but when it's happening to me, it's a different story.

this humongous shit then came charging at me on it’s four paws. I sprinted the other way screaming my lungs off, I was genuinely scared. what if I would never get to sort things out with Riki or I would never see my family again, and whose gonna look after Jungwon?

I turned the corner thinking about how this may be my death. this is the one time I prayed for Spider-Man to save me…

please save me Spider-Man.

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

“I am not laughing, this shit isn’t funny Jake,” I raised my voice at Jake who was lying in my top bunk.

“I’m sure she was just joking Riki,” he sat up and swung his legs over the ladder.

“whatever, but if she finds out it’s over for me,” I sat down on my wheeley chair and tilted my head back as I spun. if y/n found out it would ruin everything with her.

“I say… ya tell her,” Jake said as he threw a ball at me.

“she’s literally doing her literature documentary on ‘findings out the identity of Spider-Man’, I don’t think that’s a good idea man,” I threw the ball back at him.

why is being the best superhero in the world so tough. If on queue I head some loud as screams coming from below my bedroom window.

I took a look out the window and there was y/n running in front of a giant cat? actually, now that I think about it she was running away from the giant cat.

“shit Jake I think that’s y/n!” I dragged him down from my bed so he can take a look.

“should I save her?” I said scratching my head.

“dude, what kind of question is that!?”

“right, okay!” I stripped off my shirt and pants to slip on the most uncomfortable thing ever. this fucking red suit.

“see ya Jake,” I saluted to him as I fell down my window backwards. I used my webs to grab on to the nearest light posts to try to catch up with y/n.

“you alright ma’am!”

"NO! WHAT DO YOU THINK?!" she was out of breath I could tell. so I used my webs and wrapped them around this fat shit of a cat. I was branched on top of a light post as I pulled the feline so it could stop moving. once the fuck was squirming around I put my index and pinky finger out to wrap the cat fully in webs. easy.

"th- thank you Spider-Man," y/n said as she tried to catch her breath. I jumped off to land right in front of her.

"no problem, you alright?" I'm not going to lie that even though y/n is in a pretty rough state, she still looked really pretty for someone who nearly died.

"yeah, yeah I'm fine... but you sound really familiar Spider-Man," she raised an eyebrow at me. shit. I quickly wrote a note to the police saying: 'big fat cat for you to deal with po po, from Spider-Man' and I placed it on the body of the animal.

"uh- I've gotta go pretty, but make sure not to get into any more trouble!" I shouted as I swung away leaving her standing there confused.

I climbed back up into my room only to see Jake had left. I slipped off my suit and put on some more comfortable clothes just to climb up onto my bed and just lay there. school is shit 98% of the time, the only thing really keeping me there is Jungwon and y/n. being a fucking superhero is also shit; having to save people constantly, being chased down by literal aliens, and the thought of someone finding out it's me.

Jungwon and y/n won't find it out though right? right?

*ੈ ✩ ‧ ₊ ˚

"I NEARLY FUDGING DIED WON!" I screamed at Jungwon through my phone. that was really something I did not expect to happen.

"you really should have been there. oh and what is the real reason you left school? there is no way you got mono."

"mono? now who told you that?"

"Sunoo..." now that I say it out loud, it seems less believable. Sunoo is known around school for spreading gossip and rumors about people.

"right, well it's nothing really... but being saved by Spider-Man, my goodness y/n!"

"I KNOW RIGHT?! and if I'm being honest he sounded pretty familiar, but I just couldn't put a face to the voice." that shit had been bothering me my whole walk home after the incident. who could it have been? I'd ruled out Riki though because I could recognize his voice from a mile away.

"well, tomorrow at school I will bring my camera to film him in the morning. AND BE SAFE! you can't just go off and start dying on me."

"yeah, yeah bye loser." and then I hung up.

maybe Spider-Man isn't so bad after all.

A/N: this took too long and it's only 2k words omg. n e ways Middle Of Nowhere pt 2 soon!

TAGLIST: @heerinnie @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @j-wyoung

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flowersandbigteeth · 7 months

Note

I Have an idea for a character one shot (I'd just irk to fuck a centipede monster but same thing)

You get lost in the desert come across a cave, take a nap in the cave but when you wake up you’re trapped by a large centipede man who’s staring down at you like you’re a snack.

Preferably nsfw and Fem reader, also I’m sorry if you’re not taking requests I’m new to your blog

I really like this idea ^_^, It actually inspired a longer story I'm working on about a sarantopodarousacentaur. But for now, we have this.

sarantopodarousacentaur/half-centipede half-human (Mitas) x F reader

Word Count: 3K

Warning: nsfw, dubcon half-centipede smut, kidnapping, descriptions of violence, desert vibes

“Have you seen a witch run this way, miss?” a lanky member of the city guard asked.

You squinted in the desert sun as it reflected off his shiny gold armor.

“A witch?” you asked, leaning on your bow. “Nope, can’t say I have.”

He gave you a nod, glancing at your horse, Bina, who had her head in a bucket of water you’d drawn from the oasis.

“Pretty horse,” he said, tipping his hat. “Better stay safe tonight. There’s a witch on the loose. Murdered one of the merchants in town with black magic. Could be dangerous.”

“Sure thing,” you said, giving him a little salute as he walked away.

“She’s not here!” you heard him yell at his captain over your shoulder. “Just a huntress watering her horse.”

“She’s the bloody witch, you mouth-breathing dolt!” his captain shouted. “After her!”

Time to go!

You hurried to empty the bucket and climbed on Bina’s back, kicking her lightly to make your escape. Pulling your goggles over your eyes, you turned into the wind, heading towards the mountains where you might be able to hide. You weren’t any witch, as the guard thought. You’d killed the merchant with poison before you’d stolen all his gold. It only appeared to be magic to the idiotic guard, who apparently had no idea what poisoning looked like. He’d bled out of every orifice, but his death was faster than he deserved.

You could hear the hoofbeats of their horses on your tail. The guards were wearing heavy armor, however, and carrying swords. You were much faster. You twisted in your saddle and shot off a few arrows to ward them off.

“We’re under heavy fire!” one of the guards shouted, and you snorted.

A few odd arrows were hardly heavy fire. You could have killed them if you’d wanted, but you aimed at their obnoxiously shiny chests, and your arrows only dented the metal.

You often stole, but you didn’t often kill. The merchant had it coming, though. When he took you back to his home, thinking he’d seduced you, you’d found a house full of half-starved slaves. Slavery was illegal in Dechete, but he’d bragged to you about how he’d paid off the city magistrate to claim he’d adopted all the teens. So, annoyed that he was both a lech and a slaver, you hadn’t felt the least bad about dropping a few drops of Bloodweed essence in his drink. You let the teenagers take what they liked of his possessions and horses, pointing them towards the coast before you broke into his safe and pocketed the gold coins he kept there.

No one would have noticed for a few days if one of the newer slaves wasn’t a snitch and called the guard, hoping to gain a favor from the magistrate. He got an arrow to the chest for his opportunism. Probably didn’t kill him, but the punctured lung would keep his mouth shut while the others got away.

Which is why you were galloping through the desert, hoping to lose the city guard in the rising sandstorm. It was better they chase you than newly freed youths.

“Sorry, Bina,” you muttered, pushing her faster into the fading light. “I owe you as many apples as you can eat when we make it across the mountain.”

Beyond the mountains were the green lands of the Thundering Redwoods and safety. With all the gold you’d stolen, you could buy some animals and a little house in the woods. You’d never have to see this dismal desert again.

“Fall back! The storm’ll take ‘er!” you heard the guard shout as the wind whipped around you, shooting particles against your face like liquid sandpaper. If you could have breathed a sigh of relief, you would have. Instead, you focused on keeping Bina running straight so you didn’t end up lost.

“You’re a good girl, Bina,” you murmured, though you doubted she could hear you over the whistling wind.

The rocks of the mountains came on you so quickly, you would have driven her straight into a stone wall if she didn’t have better sense. She made a sharp 90-degree turn at the last moment and carried you into a canyon. The wind didn’t reach here, and you pulled off your goggles, looking around at the high cliffs stretching up above you.

“You’re worth your weight in gold,” you cheered, rubbing Bina’s neck.

She gave you a pleased whinny, happy to be safe from the irritating sand. Hopping off her back, you wandered through the winding canyon, hoping it would take you straight through to the other side of the range. Night fell, and you still hadn’t come upon the opposite end, so, lighting a torch, you looked for a cave where you might get some rest before starting off again in the morning.

“This look all right?” you asked Bina, holding your torch into a hole in the canyon wall only a bit larger than her.

She nuzzled your hair, and you supposed that was her approval. Inside the opening, the cave opened to a large hall with a high ceiling you couldn’t see with your weak light. The sound of trickling water echoed off the cold stone walls, and after making your way quietly through the passage, you found a spring pumping, clear icy water into a small stream that went deeper into the cave.

“I think you chose correct,” you said, smiling at your horse while you pulled your saddle and her bridle off so she could have a nice drink and a rest.

You washed the layer of dirt off your face before you plopped down on the floor to get comfortable. Pulling an apple, you’d nicked from your bag, you gave it to Bina as she’d done most of the work. You could find something to eat in the morning.

“Sleep tight, Bina,” you muttered, exhausted.

Curling into a ball on the hard floor, you quickly fell asleep.

You woke looking at the floor…but it was the ceiling…No. You were upside down. You blinked, peering in the low light at a shadowy creature silhouetted by the sun creeping in through the mouth of the cave. Your eyes frantically searched for Bina, but you found her safe and sound, resting in a bed of hay and eating a salad of apples, carrots, and melon from a crudely shaped clay bowl. Where did that-?

“Hello, little human,” the creature hissed.

As your eyes adjusted to the light, they popped open, realizing what was holding you aloft by your ankle.

“Sarantopodarousacentaur!” you gasped at the half-man, half-centipede smiling at you.

His body was long, and the segmented carapace looked like polished mahogany. Shiny gold legs tapped the stone floor as if he were excited. He righted you, lifting you so you were eye to eye. His face was rather handsome despite his mouth appearing far wider than a normal human. Messy black hair fell around his jaw, and his skin was as gold as the desert sand. Two odd, blood-red teeth poked past his lips, and you puzzled at what they could be until he stretched his maw in an eerie smile, and you found they were the tips of two mandibles that rested in his cheeks. He flexed them at you as if he were hungry.

“Um…hello…” you said, unsure what to say to a legendary monster.

Sarantopodarousacentaurs were a myth, a story the desert folk told to keep their children from wandering at night. Yet, here was in front of you, grinning like a demon. He set you on the ground and patted your head.

“You are a juicy little morsel,” he beamed, folding his muscled body to your height. “The perfect size to be my mate!”

You swallowed hard and waved your hands at him, stepping back.

“Oh no, I’m no…er…mate,” you said. “I’m just passing through. Bina and I will be on our way. Didn’t mean to disturb you!”

You inched towards the bow you’d left on the ground while sleeping. His body curled around you in one smooth movement, pinching legs trapping you in a golden cage. A finger tipped your chin up to meet his red eyes.

“You will be my mate,” he said. “But don’t be frightened.”

He waved a hand at Bina, who happily munched on her bowl of treats, not the least afraid of the monster.

“I will take good care of you and your Bina,” he said.

His black-clawed fingers tore at the filthy, sandy clothes you wore, slicing them to ribbons as he unwrapped you like a treat. Lifting one of your legs, he examined it closely.

“You look delicious,” he murmured as his eyes took stock of your body.

You wracked your brain, trying to remember if centipedes killed their mates, but you couldn’t think clearly under his careful inspection.

“Don’t you think we should get to know one another…before you…do…whatever…?” you asked.

Please don’t eat me.

He smiled again, his face so close to yours that his mandibles brushed your cheek.

“I go by Mitas,” he said while he sniffed your hair.

“I’m…ah…(Y/N),” you said, shivering.

The cave was cold now that you were naked, and Mitas frowned.

“You will be warm in my nest,” he assured you, tapping legs carrying him at a dizzying speed deeper into the cave.

You gasped at what must have been the creature’s bedroom. On one side of the room, jewel-toned blankets, furs, and pillows formed a large, wide bowl where he slept. Your mouth went dry as you took in the neatly piled bones and skulls of his victims. Some were split to make bowls for food, drinks, and pigments, while some were carved with intricate designs and hung on the walls like art.

He plopped you in his nest and coiled around you like a snake, his stiff legs holding you in place. His odd mandibles bloomed, pinching your cheek gently.

He’s definitely going to eat me, you thought. His heavy hands moved all over your body, tracing your curves as if he were getting to know them.

“Normally I devour little mouthfulls like you,” he hummed, tucking his nose behind your ear and sniffing you. “But you’re too pretty to be a meal.”

He sighed.

“I’m lonely,” he pouted. “I want a proper mate.”

“Yes but…” you started to say.

“No buts,” he hissed. “The goddess led you to me. You walked right into my den. She must have meant for you to be mine.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” you argued.

“You’re either a meal or my mate,” he reasoned. “Which would you rather? It’d be a pity to eat you, but I’m sure you’re scrumptious!”

Posed with those options, you chose the one that did not result in your immediate demise.

“M-m-mate,” you squeaked.

If only you had your bow nearby! The sarantopodarousacentaur was strong, but not invincible. A shot to the heart would kill anyone.

“We ought to kiss,” he decided.

“You think?” you asked.

He nodded and smiled his eerily wide smile.

“That’s what mated pairs do, no?” he replied.

At that you squeezed your eyes shut, prepared for the worst. What you felt, however, was rather nice. His lips were soft and warm as they brushed yours. With your eyes closed, you took more notice of the scent of his nest. He didn’t smell bad, more like sandalwood and moss. Without thinking you leaned in to him, your hands finding their way to his chest.

The muscles were firm and sculpted. Curious, your fingers drifted down to his abs as he tentatively brushed his tongue against your bottom lip. Your lips parted on their own and you were presented with his flavor. Surprisingly he tasted like mint and honey.

You sighed your appreciation as his fingers gently moved along your waist, exploring your curves. Your body betrayed any lingering sense of caution sparkling under his touch. It’d been a long time since you’d been with a man. As a desert scavenger, you were more likely to rob one than take him to bed.

You heard a lusty moan build in your throat and he pulled you closer, the sharp points of his legs scraping your skin in a not unpleasant way. His lips set off on an exploration of your body, drifting to your cheeks, then neck, until he was curiously nibbling at your breasts.

There was no holding in your gasps when he pulled a nipple past his lips and ran his tongue over it. The pointy mandibles tucked in his cheeks nipped at the tender skin making you shudder in pleasure, not pain.

He hummed, pleased that you were obviously enjoying his investigation. Thick fingers slid down your stomach to dip themselves into your wetness.

“What’s this?” he murmured as his roving fingers found your sensitive spot.

Inquisitive sanguine eyes met yours.

“It’s called a clit,” you explained in halting breaths.

He chuckled lightly as he felt your body stiffen while he circled it.

“You like that,” he observed and you gave him a tight nod punctuated by a loud moan.

He made an odd chattering noise that sounded rather victorious before returning to your breasts, to lick your nipples, one after the other. He had your head all fucked up. Pleasure rolled over you like a unstoppable wave, clouding any thoughts of escape with ones of surrender.

Feeling you relax into his arms, he pushed you down into the soft pile of blankets and pillows beneath you. Opening your eyes you found him looming over you, considering his strategy.

As you watched a portion of the yolk of carapace that wrapped around his hips parted and what must have been his cock emerged. It wasn’t like a man’s at all, instead the tip was slightly curved and the shaft lined with knobs arranged in a spiral. You whimpered at it’s size, unsure if it would even fit inside you.

“Oh,” you mewled and he smiled down at you, his mandibles stretching wide, obviously proud of what he had to offer.

“I like your little, squishy legs,” he purred opening them with ease and brushing his member against the soft skin of your thighs.

Precum mixed with your own fluids that had slid down your leg. Curious, he dipped his head and you felt his long tongue explore your channel, making you squeal. No one had ever been quite so close before. At first, you were frightened, but as he worked his tongue inside you, you couldn’t deny the pleasure he sent shooting up your spine. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your lashes fluttered. Panting your hands found his shaggy hair on their own and held him in place.

You heard a rumbling grow echo through the chamber, coming from his chest. He stopped for a moment to glance up at you.

“No, don’t stop,” you demanded despite yourself and he grinned at you, lowering his head again.

His efforts moved to your clit, his tongue twirling around it like some tentacle. His teasing pushed you up and up like a drifting balloon until you popped, screeching as you came. Pleased with himself, he loomed over you, licking his lips with the agile appendage.

“Now you’re mine,” he declared, his hips snapping forward and his cock plunging in to your soaking core.

Your body was his to take as his cock stretched you. His shaft was stiff and smooth, the covering feeling more like smooth bone than velvety flesh.

"Ahhhh!" you groaned as he drove into you.

His claws fingers held you in place, gripping your neck and all you could do was gaze up at him. His eyes had shifted from a deep garnet to cherry red.

"Minnnnne," he muttered in a labored hiss.

His hips slammed into yours mercilessly, rutting you like a beast. You started to lose yourself in bliss, his member stroking the places inside of you that felt the best.

Your eyelashes fluttered closed and the only thing that passed your lips was incoherent babble.

"Touch yourself, mate," he ordered, eyes eating up your vulnerable body and you obeyed.

Your narrow fingers desperately circled your clit, chasing your end and plucked at a nipple. His gaze on you was lecherous, enjoying your neediness. After a few minutes, he couldn't take it anymore, brushing your hand away and folding his large body in half so that he could nibble the pert nipples you'd tugged to a point.

His other hand found your clit and as he drove into you he pinched and stroked your little bundle of nerves until you were sobbing. Pleasure detonated in your core like a bomb and your back arched in the soft linens as you screamed his name.

You heard him chuckle, devolving into animal grunts as he took his pleasure. His glowing eyes narrowed and you could see the rapture growing in them. They were solely focused on you when he emptied himself inside.

You both laid there panting, his body curved over you like a cave, but not pressing his weight on you.

"Little mate," he purred, fingers stroking your cheek. "You are so lovely."

Like a gentleman, not a monster, he twisted around offering you a sip of water from a bone bowl. You were too thirsty and spent to complain, so you drank eagerly.

He hummed at you in satisfaction. It seemed providing for you pleased him. Your head was dotted in his happy kisses.

"When we are done resting we'll go pick fruit," he said, snuggling up next you and trapping you in a cage of his legs. "I won't let my scrap go hungry."

"Where?" you murmured. "We're in the middle of the desert."

His chuckle rolled over you like a heavy grumble of thunder, sending a shock of pleasure up your spine.

"There's an oasis where I cultivate plants," he explained, yawning. "Only I know about it. Very secret, but I'll share it with my mate. Sleep now, little one."

Escape briefly crossed your mind, but to be honest, you'd never been so satisfied carnally before and you were rethinking that plan. Your body was glowing and your hormones were slowly binding you to the myth made flesh dozing beside you. Maybe escape could wait until after a nap and some fruit salad. So you pressed your head into his chest and maneuvered his thick arm over you like a blanket, which earned you a satisfied hum from Mitas, and drifted into sleep.

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hopefulromances · 3 months

Note

Could you write something for Jamie about his gf surprising him at an away match? 🫶🏻

THank you for requesting!! Super cute!!

This had to go perfect. All the time planning with Keeley to get seperate flights, separate car, all this secrecy and planning to avoid Jamie finding out any detail of the surprise.

It was Richmond's first game against Man City for the season. Last time Jamie had played against Man City it had been one of the greatest games of his career. Not only creating a beautiful assist for Colin but also scoring a solo goal himself, on a bum ankle no less.

For the first time, his mum would be coming with his stepfather, now that his father was in rehab. You were the only one who couldn't come. Or so he thought. So you had told him repeatedly.

"It would just be nice 'n all," he murmured, resting his head on your chest.

"I know, I know," you agreed, running your hands through his hair. It had gotten so long, he could almost pull it back into a ponytail. "I'm really sorry, I tried to get off."

"I know you did," he sighed. He was wrapped around you like a koala, face shoved into your chest. "Just would be nice."

And it was going to be nice. There was no way you would be missing this game.

You found Keeley at Will Call, decked out in Richmond gear, ribbons woven into your hair, Jamie's name and number on your back.

"Ah! Look at you!" Keeley shrieked as she saw you. "He is going to flip!"

"Thank you so much for all your help, Keels," You grinned and pulled her into a hug. "You're the best friend either of us could ask for."

"Alright, let's get you up to the booth."

Seeing the game from the booth was incredible. The view was perfect and there was booze within 10 ft. But the best part of the whole day was seeing Jamie play.

You'd seen him play before but everytime it took your breath away. He was always ten steps ahead of everyone else. Ten passes towards the goal that no one else was aware of. And god he looked good while doing it.

It was a stellar game, a great match ending in a 3-2 tie with Jamie scoring a beautiful goal during injury time. You'd burst out of your seat and cheered, joining the Richmond fans in the crowd in chanting his name! Jamie Tartt doo doo do do du doo!

You were there waiting for him in the hallway. There standing, hands clasped together in excitement as the lads came off the field, high on their victory. But when he saw you, the whole world stopped.

He rounded the corner, chatting with his arm around Sam when he spotted you. He froze, forcing Sam to stop as he followed Jamie gaze. You waved at him, shyly. Then he broke into the brightest grin and he bounded to wards you.

You opened your arms and let him scoop you up, spinning in circles.

"Jamie!" You cried, giggling in his arms. "You absolute genius."

He set you down just in time to pull you into a deep kiss. He was disgusting. Sweaty and gross after playing for 90 minutes on the field but, god, did he taste good.

"Thank you for coming," He breathed out. "Can't believe you're here."

"Did you really think I would miss this?" You assured him, pressing your forehead to his. "Never."

Jamie kissed you again, peppering your face with his lips. You laughed again, trying to duck away from him but you couldn't get far.

"And you look- fucking- mint- babe," he continued, pausing between each word to press another kiss to your face.

"Oi, Tartt!" Isaac called from the locker room. "Come get changed so we can fucking celebrate!"

Jamie looked over his shoulder. "I'll be right there."

He turned back to you, brushing your hair out of your face, like he still couldn't believe you were there.

"You'll come right? You're not gonna leave?" He checked, trying not to show his insecurity."

"I'm not going anywhere," you reassured him, pulling him back for one last kiss. "Now go get change, you fucking stink."

You pushed him away from you, laughing as he stumbled dramatically.

"Yes, ma'am!" He saluted you before scurrying back to the locker room, being met with cheers from the team.

Oh, god, you were glad he was yours.

#jamie tartt #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #anonymous #hopefulromances requests

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im-totally-not-an-alien-2 · 1 year

Text

Danny, on the run from the GIW decides to take shelter in Gotham because if the GIW have any sense they'd never set foot in there.

Even if Batman and the JL agree with thier opinion on ecto entities (as evidenced by their lack of speaking out against the anti-ecto acts) Batman was notoriously territorial and would have issue with a wildly incompetent government organization throwing missiles around his city all willy-nilly.

With that being said it was probably best for Danny to wear a disguise. Sure, they didn't know Fenton and Phantom were the same person yet but Danny Fenton suddenly turning up in Gotham after going missing in Amity is certainly going to raise some eyebrows regardless of the necklace he had that jammed his ecto-signature and made him untrackable.

Danny started off by going blond. Its something he's always wanted to do and now with ghostly shape-shifting powers he doesn't even have to worry about frying his hair or dying his eyebrows to match. After that all he needed to do was part his hair down the middle, add a lip ring or two and maybe a bit of make up.

Danny stared at himself in the mirror. He looked like a completely different person.

A completely different and very attractive person. He looked good. The newly blond man threw on a green jacket and went out to explore the town. He did not expect to literally bump into the Tim Drake. The Wayne adoptee just stood there mouth opening and closing comically. Did he offend him? Crap. He had promised Jazz he would stay off of the radar of the Waynes and the bats specifically and here he was angering one of them.

Danny decided to book it before it became a scene, ignoring the lovestruck Tim's crys for him to wait.

Back at his apartment Danny quickly changed his look to red hair tied back into a two inch low ponytail, green eyes and freckles that unbeknownst to anyone else was made up from the lesser known constellations.

The coffee at this Cafe smelled amazing! Too bad Danny wouldn't get to try it because the next this he knew freaking Red Hood was behind him asking to talk. Our favorite ghost boy wouldn't be embarrassed to admit he let out a small squeek before bolting out the door yelling, "I'm not even a criminal!"

It took Jason a few seconds to process that the guy he had tried to flirt with ran away in terror. Crap.

Day three and four were blissfully Wayne and bat free, though he did find out that Tim Drake and Red Hood were looking for his two false identities. Joy.

Day five he met the stabby Robin who very valiantly beat up two people who had been following him. Danny didn't even notice he was being followed and thanked the bird for saving him. Danny, who was shape-shifted into a very pretty girl at the moment, offered to buy him something to eat as a thank you. "Danielle" insisted and Robin allowed it. Danielle never noticed the slight pink on Damians cheeks as they went over to one of Damians favorite restaurants.

Day seven he had went out as blondie and got confronted by some girl named Barbara. She was nice and managed to convince him to come to a Cafe with her. He told her his name was David and he ran away from his parents with the help of one of his friends family members and that he was Jewish, which was true...except for the David part. He learned that if you wanna keep your story straight keeping to almost truths was your best bet. She in turn told him about Tim and how he's a friend of hers-uh oh- and that he's been looking all over for him.

Danny-David- tells her he's sorry but he didn't mean to offend Tim and doesn't want any trouble before laying down enough money to cover his half of the bill and the tip and booking it out of there

This repeats with most of the family trying to flirt with him or adopt him into the family when he's out as Danny.

Bruce Wayne approached Danny when he was waiting to board an elevator, "Hel-" was all the billionaire could get out before Danny cut him off "Hell no." And then he just got in the elevator and pressed the close doors button and was gone again.

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wholoveseggs · 2 months

Note

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

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ghouljams · 9 months

Note

I want something to spook witch really bad to the point where Price finds her curled up in a corner and just fucking picks her up and holds her and soothes her. And she just melts into him and has a moment where she feels safe in his arms but then has to deal with the fact that that goes against everything she believes. I love this slow burn, I don’t want them to fuck I just want them to cuddle a little bit, or for price to just cup her face in his big hands and look into her eyes and realize he doesn’t even care about getting tethers in her, he just wants to be near her. I’m so normal about them.

I'm so normal about them and I absolutely haven't read this one hundred times just thinking about Price and Witch being soft with each other. Sorry to the anons that want them to fuck, I want them to be unendingly tender with each other.

I want Price to be so familiar with Witch and her workings that he can pluck out her herbs before she even asks for them. Price sitting at the kitchen table and watching her work because he loves seeing his Witch in her element. I want him to loop an arm around her shoulders without thinking when she sits down next to him. So that Witch never worries if she's being too clingy when she leans against his side and drapes her legs over his lap. I want them to look at each other and know that's their person. Anyway I love you here's some words from further in their relationship:

There aren't many things that scare you. Witchcraft sort of necessitates that you maintain a healthy respect for the things that should make you cry in terror. So when you do get scared, you're never quite sure how to handle it. You know the basics of the responses: fight, flight, freeze, fawn, it's the execution you're never sure of.

You're actually glad you don't have the sight when you feel it walk past you. The hair on the back of your neck stands up at the daunting pressure the creature exudes. Your eyes dart up as if it might be walking by undisguised. You step to the side, to let it pass, your hand flying to grip one of Price's tethers. The man that passes you is only slightly smaller than your first glance, his face covered with what you assume is Mal's work the way your perception slides off of it. You can feel the danger of him, the predatory sweep of his eyes, you feel like a hapless civilian in Jurassic park watching a t-res walk by you.

His head tilts curiously at you, his walk only paused to assess whatever danger your attention might hold. The tether buzzes warm and insistent against your hold, you drop it quickly when the creature's eyes move to see what you'd been gripping so tightly. You think that might have been a mistake, drawing attention to your magic when fae are around is always a mistake.

The teeth on this thing, you hardly need your hagstone to see them. The hungry aggression in its eyes is enough to let you glimpse the dangerous spines that run down its back, to feel the swing of its tail and hear the crack of its claws. You're pulled back against the familiar tobacco scent of Price as a voice asks,

"König? What's wrong?"

Price's arm wraps around your shoulders, and you turn into his grip, not proud of the way you hide from this monster. It doesn't matter, Price doesn't care if you hide, you know that. That's why you can turn your back to such an overpowering threat, and how you know with absolute surety that you're safe in Price's hold.

"So this is where you've been hiding," You can feel the suppressed growl in Price's chest where you press close, the feigned politeness.

"Price," The fae, König you suppose, greets. You don't know if the voice really fits the monster, that helps to soften some of your fear. "I know your shadow is in the city, I should have assumed you would be too."

"Just for business." Price tells him.

"Business," König sounds out the word, like he doesn't believe him, "what business?"

"Are you scaring people again?" The same voice from before, closer now, "Goddammit." The overpowering presence seems to rush out of the air, intimidation melting away to give room for something softer. Now it's Price's turn to tense. You turn your head to peak at the overgrown fae, and the woman chastising him. König seems much less scary when he's got his shoulders scrunched up and his head hung low.

#1fae1 #tf 1fae1 #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #captain price #oc: witch #john price x oc #captain price x oc #fae!Price #Witch immediately like: Oh wait I know that woman #This is your boyfriend??? The old god masquerading as a normal fae?#Price isn't scared of you König stop trying

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vanteguccir · 3 months

Text

destructive home | m. sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Matt helps Y/N get through an anxiety attack.

Requested?: Yes, on Wattpad.

Warning: Anxiety attack, panic attack, toxic home, toxic father, fighting between parents.

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N closed her eyes tightly feeling her head spin from the loud voices coming from downstairs. Unfortunately, her parents fighting was nothing new, and even less so was her father starting the fight.

Y/N's father has always been the type of father who is physically present but emotionally absent, living in the same house as the girl since her birth, but never really playing the role of a kind and welcoming father.

Quite the contrary, her father has always been a very demanding and controlling man, Y/N having witnessed his first attack of stress when she was just a week old, when her mother cooked lunch for both of them, but couldn't bear to eat everything on her plate due to the exhaustion of being a first-time mother, and her father started a series of screams demanding that she eat all the food, after all "he pays the house bills and the food in the cupboard and refrigerator and didn't want to see anything being wasted", ignoring completely the scandalous crying of the little girl, who understood nothing at the time.

And it was exactly in an environment like this that Y/N grew up, learning that staying silent all the time at home prevented fights from reaching huge peaks, but suffering the consequences with the fights inside her head, which grew more and more. With all of this, the girl ended up developing panic attacks and severe anxiety, which she only discovered through a quick diagnosis from her school psychologist, as her father refused to pay for a consultation for her and her mother did not have enough money to do it.

Y/N grew up with constant fights outside and inside her head, experiencing the most bitter moments inside her own home, where she had to face her anxiety attacks alone on the floor of her room, muffling the loud sounds of her sobs with pillows.

But whoever was listening to her cry through all this time, listened to her prayers and sent an angel into her life. Y/N met Matt two years ago in a cafe in the city completely by accident, the barista at the cafe ended up getting confused with their orders and handed Matt's to Y/N and vice versa, the two only realizing it after the first sip.

And since then Y/N no longer had to face her fears alone, her refuge in difficult times stopped being her cold and lonely bed and became Matt, with whom she could lean on in all the sad and happy moments too, and the best thing being that she, having experience with herself, could help him with his own anxiety attacks, the two of them moving towards a better mental place together.

But despite the willpower to improve and all the effort, there were days when it became more difficult. Y/N had woken up that morning with a bitter taste in her mouth and a heavy head, feeling like something was going to happen, and she wasn't wrong.

The day went by with a heavy air, the girl staying at home all day since it was a Sunday and Matt spent the day filming with his brothers the podcast that would be posted the next day, and all the weight that lived in the walls of her house seemed to have been transferred to Y/N's back, she couldn't remember the last time she felt that, and the fact that she wouldn't see Matt that day only made it worse.

At the end of the day Y/N understood why she woke up with the heavy feeling. Her mother was cooking something in the kitchen for dinner that would be served soon, which the girl was sure she would just grab a plate and go up to her room to eat alone, but during the process of making the food, her mother let some glass escape from her hands, making a thunderous noise.

Y/N was startled by the sound, getting up and running downstairs without thinking, just worried about her mother and wanting to understand what had happened, but while the girl calmed her mother who seemed in shock over the broken plate, her mind began to scream danger.

Seconds later the sounds of heavy footsteps became present and it didn't take long for the male screams to be heard, her father releasing several curses along with insults towards her mother and, consequently, towards herself as well.

Y/N felt numb, her father's voice becoming a background sound as a buzzing settled in her head. The girl wasted no time and ran upstairs, all she wanted was to get away from the fight.

It didn't take much more than a minute and she found herself closing the door with a bang, throwing herself on the floor next to her bed and curling up in a fetal position, her throat making horrible sounds as she tried to draw in air, which never seemed to come enough.

Her heart was beating fast and her hands were shaking tirelessly.

In a moment of sanity, the girl crawled to the end of her bed to get her phone, thinking about the only one who could help her at the moment. Her fingers raced to the emergency contacts, seeing only one in the listing, Matt.

She quickly clicked it, putting it on speaker and dropping the phone on the floor.

"Hello my love, we're almost done here. I was thinking about calling you next, what do you think about... Y/N?" The boy answered with a smile in his voice, stopping talking when he noticed a sound like a strangulation in the background. "Y/N? Baby, please, what's going on?" He asked desperately, standing up quickly from his seat in the recording room on the other side of the phone, fully gaining his brothers' attention.

The girl couldn't respond, barely able to hear him properly, her mind just processing that she needed air, her eyes closed tightly as she felt as if her room was shrinking in size around herself.

"Baby stay with me, I'm coming, I'm coming. Stay with me..."

The male voice seemed to come and go in Y/N's ears, and what took less than 10 minutes seemed to take hours in her fragile mind. The sound of her bedroom window opening echoed through the room as Matt entered the pink-walled room after climbing the roof of the two-story house, already used to the action.

The boy quickly ran towards his girlfriend, throwing himself on the ground, kneeling next to her and hugging her tightly, trying to bring her mind back.

"I'm here, baby. I'm with you." He whispered incessantly against Y/N's ear, feeling her smaller body tremble against his. "Baby, I need you to take a deep breath for me. Stretch, come on." He spoke, helping her straighten her spine and stretching her legs, leaving her sitting in an L-shaped position. "Can you breathe through your nose for me?" Matt asked, watching carefully his girlfriend's face, feeling his heart tighten at her state, her lips trembling, her cheeks hot and rosy, her face tense and her eyebrows furrowed.

Y/N tried to do as requested, finally being able to identify her boyfriend's voice, but the action seemed to lead nowhere.

"Come on, my love, I know you can do it." He asked in a whisper, feeling his eyes burn with tears. Upon seeing Y/N's difficulty in fulfilling the request, he quickly approached and sealed her lips tightly, briefly remembering when the girl did the same to himself during one of his worst crises.

Y/N stood still, her hands still shaking and her heart beating hard, but her mind seemed to contain itself and the loud noise inside her fell silent.

The girl felt tears roll down her face, opening her eyes, her vision slowly getting used to everything after being in the dark for several minutes. She calmly pulled away from Matt, drawing a breath of air into her lungs, feeling relief at being able to do so.

Y/N looked at her boyfriend's face, seeing him smile in relief as tears rolled down his own eyes.

"Don't cry." She asked weakly, pulling him into a tight embrace, pressing her cheek against his, their tears mixing together.

Matt let out a tearful laugh, sniffling as he brought one of his hands to Y/N's hair, stroking the spot.

"I'm just glad you're okay."

"Thank you Matt." She thanked him, hearing him sigh happily. Y/N snuggled closer into Matt's arms, still not having the strength to get up from the floor and he didn't seem to want to do so yet either.

"I love you so much, my love." He whispered a few minutes later, kissing the top of her head. Matt slowly moved back after getting silence in response, looking at his girlfriend only to see her with her eyes closed and breathing lightly, sleep having taken over her weak body from the intense moment.

The sound of two knocks on the door made him look up, looking intently to the door and ready to protect his girl if necessary, but relief filled his heart when he saw that it was Y/N's mother.

The woman had her face between the door and the frame, ready to check if her daughter was okay after the mess in the kitchen, but her worried features were replaced by a soft smile when she saw her daughter and her boyfriend cradled together.

"Thank you." She whispered truthfully to Matt, earning a nod before carefully closing the door.

The mother walked towards her own room with a light heart, knowing that Matt would do anything to take care of and see her daughter well.

223 notes · View notes

waynewifey · 9 months

Text

dear mr. wayne — b.w

part one: dear mr. wayne

part two: aftermath

part three: aporia

epilogue

summary: it’s not easy being a politician’s wife. it’s even harder to love a vigilante. months of negligence make you an easy target to his enemies.

pairing: bruce wayne/battinson x reader

genre: angst romance & dark action

warnings: swearing; smoking; kidnapping; violence; a bit of gore; “you” is she/her; bruce is the worst husband ever btw

word count: 2.8k

A/N: i wrote this back in january 2022 when the batman movie had just premiered, so kinda off the hype here. i hope you enjoy it anyway. already working on part 2, let me know if you guys would like it! also, this has taken a path way darker than i had in mind so i’m sorry if it’s too much. comments are appreciated!

gotham city, USA.

it's late.

you have no clock nearby, but you feel it in your bones. in your muscles too. it's too late and bruce should be home already. laying in the sofa, only half conscious, you regret telling alfred to go to bed. at least you wouldn't be alone. of course, being married to the batman you knew he would patrol at night often. you were okay with it. but lately bruce had been too focused on his other, and recent, goal: running for mayor. at first it seemed out of character, he was never good with the public or the press. but he stared at thomas wayne's painting in the hall in such painful façade, it made sense all off sudden. you were supportive of it. you showed up to every event just to stay by his side, to show the people the lovable man he was. the man you loved. the man who couldn't even be home for dinner.

the penthouse's elevator dings, opening its doors at the end of the hallway you see perfectly from your seat. your head doesn't lift instantly, like in the first week. instead, a long sigh escapes from your lips as bruce reaches the living room.

"hello, darling." he says, still in motion as he walks the stairway up to the room you shared. not a single kiss, or a hug. you follow him, because what else is there to do? you need to go to bed anyway. by the time you get there, slowly, his suit is already on the floor and he's taking a shower.

"how was the meeting?" you ask, knowing he usually did his Wayne Enterprising meetings — which consisted of hanging out long hours in bars with business men — at night. recently, he started a complicated relationship with a real estate company he wanted to invest in.

"the usual." he stopped fully answering these questions three weeks ago, making the only time you ever talked even shorter. the city has gotten more violent than ever since his batman duties were put on standby.

"any closer to sealing the deal?" you sit on the bed, watching the open bathroom door.

"probably." it's not like he's being rude. well, maybe a little bit. he just doesn't want to talk any more, it's clear on his tone. but it's 2am and you brain isn't working too well.

"when is this gonna end, bruce?" you finally say, as he puts his boxers on. "when are we ever having dinner again? or going on a date? when are you gonna stop treating me like i'm some sort of home decor?" you almost vomit out the words that have been stuck on your throat for days. surprisingly, the heartache doesn't softens. instead, it gets worse. it's like admitting your abandonment.

six months ago, you started trying to get pregnant. it hadn't always been a dream of yours, but the idea of having an heir to all you've spent your life building is charming. you realised you were in the right time to do so, you had just turned 28, bruce was 32, and both had stable careers. a month later, bruce announced his candidacy. and so soon you gave up. you told yourself once he won the election everything would be fine. you would try again. but, realistically, being a mayor was already a lot of work on itself. he wouldn't want a pregnant wife or a child to take care of. after the four years, who knows? he might as well have a new life project. and your family would always stand on the side.

"i don't know what you're talking about..." he doesn't look into your eyes. hell, he barely looks at you. that feeling, the negligence, is enough to trigger the tears. you take a deep breath, making an effort to look composed.

"don't you, though?" your voice is shaken. look at me. look at me. look at me. look at me. he doesn't. "bruce." you call, finally getting his attention. however, the boredom on his face knocks you off your feet, legs trembling in pain and anger. "i just want you to make an effort on us..."

"really? cause that's all i ever done." he's leaning on the doorframe, arms crossed in a way you would find attractive in other circumstances. but now he's yelling and you fight back the urge to shrink into the mattress. "do you think i wanna have a kid on this fucked up town? i'm tryna fix this. fix everything!" his faces turns red-ish. something inside of you makes you want to leave the room. you've always been an avoider, that is one of the reasons you hadn't really had couple fights. so, basically, this is very new. "i've got the weight of the fucking world on my back."

"let's leave then" you manage to say, replacing the you chose this. it was true, however, that he was the one to put himself in this position. bruce wayne could've gotten his entire life without working if he wanted to. but he always needed to save everyone, to suffer for other's happiness. he was a giver. sometimes you wondered if he needed to be saved instead.

"you know i can't do that." he mumbles, in a defeated tone. a sigh escapes from his lips, suddenly the tiredness takes over his face. it's almost enough to make you let it go, to internalise your distress again. he really can't, you know that. he feels that the city is his liability, because it was the only thing he had since he became an orphan. but he had you, too. he just didn't acknowledge that.

"and i can't stay like this." it sounds like an whisper, but it's a plead. choose me. please. he seems to read it in your eyes, face contorting in agony when he realises what you're asking for. me or gotham? it's stupid to think he would ever choose you. but you hoped, so desperately, because you would choose him. always.

"let's not do this tonight, okay? i have to be in the office by the morning." tears instantly fall as he turns off the lights and lays on the bed, turning his back to where you slept. for a moment, you're static. his words were final. were you ever in control of something in your life? why were all of these decisions being made for you? mechanically, you stand on both feet and walk to the door. you don't even notice your movement until you're on the elevator. your husband didn't intervene either. this neighbourhood is one of the safest in town, which honestly isn't much but you had to get out. anyway, nowhere is totally safe at 3am.

you walk two blocks, clinging to the fluffy sweater you wore. the depressing air of gotham slows your pace, to a point you start wondering if it was really necessary to be aware. you could feel the city devouring you, starting with your hope. the blue 24h sign lights up the street, in a way that isn't welcoming, but you know the place well enough to not be scared to get in. a bell sounds over the door and wakes up the male behind the counter. he's got long black hair and seems to haven't seen a good night of sleep in weeks. same,you think.

"hi. can i get the blue one?" you point at the camel's behind the man. he nods, quickly putting a pack on the wooden board. the prices pops up on the cashier's display. you pay and go outside. smoking was an bad habit from your college days, when pressure got too excruciating. every now and then you would treat yourself to some cigarettes, for the confidence it gave you. the sense of control to be the one, for once, ruining yourself. the smoke burns your throat on the first inhale and you hold back a cough. you're too entertained by the cigar to notice the black van approaching. it stops right in front of you, and everything happens too quickly for your brain to process. it's all dark.

he's in a meeting, the boring kind.

the kind that has him seated in silence while a representative talks to his employees, who never get to listen to their actual boss. there's a chart being shown on a large tv on the other side of the room. he's not listening, though. he's writing down ideas for a thanksgiving speech. a head pops into the conference room.

"mr. wayne." it's one of the new assistants, hired especially for the election season. he didn't care to memorise her name, because temps usually don't last long. if she hadn't called him, he might've not even looked up. but the room is silent, expecting eyes on him. the girl at the door looks terrified. "you're urgently required outside, please."

he sighs as he gets up from his leather chair. the second the door closed behind him, chatter is heard again. in the corridor, the woman conducts him to his office and they get in. there's a bit of a commotion, four men lounge around his table, all their faces tense.

"mr. wayne, i'm afraid we don't have good news." the head of the marketing team speaks, a man called robert vance. he's probably said the same phrase to bruce about seven times this month, so that doesn't do much. the assistant approaches with an ipad, unpausing a video. "we received this from an anonymous email about forty minutes ago. we weren't able to get the ip address just yet."

the video starts with a black screen, zooming out to show a woman with a bag over her head. she has her hands on her back and is kneeling on the ground. bruce's heart skips a beat noticing the hair falling down her shoulders.

"bruce wayne..." an eerie voice whispers from behind the camera, breathing heavily. "i've robbed an egg from your basket, and you haven't even noticed!" there's a disturbing chuckle and the video shakes a bit. bruce doesn't move, eyes stuck on the screen. no one in the room has done anything other than breathing. someone gulps. "it's been long hours, but we're having fun, aren't we, darling?" a gloved hand reaches for the bag, pulling it out. her face - your face - is dripping blood. you're biting on a fabric, still in your home clothes. bruce's jaw clenches. you're crying, face beaten, in this degrading situation. your eyes pierce the screen right into his. suddenly, a gun is tapped on your forehead and you close your eyes into a sob. your lips mouth please. "i'm running out of patience here, you're running out of time. let's do business, shall we?" he laughs, knocking the pistol on the side of your head, making you fall laying on the floor, unconscious. the spot bleeds. "here's my proposal: you come clean about your father's deal with carmine falcone and maybe i don't shoot little mrs. wayne... or i do both. it's your choice, really. the clock is ticking. tick tock, wayne."

the video stops, the sight of a gun pointed at your unresponsive body burns into his mind. bruce is panting, the adrenaline rushes into his brain. there's a million of plans being built, but none of them seem viable.

"don't let media get this." he managed to say. one of the men in suits says it's too late. the tv flicks on showing a news report on the video. he kicks the side of his table, the contents being thrown across the room. "FUCK! you bastards wait forty fucking minutes to show me this?" he screams, no one can look him in the eyes. a hand runs through his black hair. "meanwhile my wife is out there with a gun on her head! and what have you done? i swear to god, if i don't find her alive and well i'm killing everyone in this goddamned room with my bare hands."

he storms out of there, reaching to his phone to call alfred and noticing the multiple missed calls. fucking silent mode. the sun is setting.

"i got the address." the butler says, instead of hello. a 'ding' sounds in his ear.

there has been pain for so long. you try to remember before the pain. but all is pain. he has to make it stop.

the floor is cold cement and you feel so small in this huge warehouse. the man in the mask knows you can't run. not only you're tied up, but the will had left you long before getting dragged into that van. he sees it in your eyes. so he strolls around, always in that ridiculous dark green overall. then he beats you up for fun. no cameras. just you and the devil himself. you find yourself praying, after all these years. you don't pray to get out, no. you pray so that it ends soon. you pray that the stab wound in your abdomen will get you an infection. you pray that when you close your eyes, you never have to open them again. but the divine has left you in the cold cement.

there's an explosion. your eyes open. there's smoke and dust taking over one of the walls. you're seeing everything horizontally, cheek on the floor. the man in green is just as scared as you were.

bruce wayne busted that fucking wall down. he expected a full team of psychopaths and maybe some more security. there was just one coward in the warehouse. the thing stares at him coming out of the smoke, fingers fidgeting. the batman steps forward. the freak steps back. then turns around, runs to a half broken wardrobe and grabs a gun from it. bruce walks slowly. there's a struggle loading the gun. he takes the opportunity to run and throw the thing on the floor. he bangs his head on it. the vermin screams. he takes one punch. two. tries to reach for the fallen gun. bruce steps on his hand and the loud crack echoes in the room. he screams again. three punches. the mask is taken off. his nose is bleeding. more punches. he holds the neck. the head is turning purple. oh how he wants to kill this little shit. bruce wayne will kill him. it will just take a few more seconds...

"baby, no" at first he thinks he's imagining it. it's so soft, so weak. but he looks up and there she is. his hands loose. right on the corner, chains on her legs. her face is ruined from blood and dirt. her wrists bleed too. the motherfucker chained her. hell is too good for this thing.

bang. on his shoulder. he looks down and the blood is dripping on the freak's face. he’s pushed to the side, holding the wound. tiny white dots obstruct his vision. he grunts through the pain. the man gets up and runs towards you. bruce can’t move. he arches his back, trying to roll and lay on his chest. it feels like he can’t move his arm anymore, like his bones had detached. when he finally does so, the man is escaping through a window. his hand searches for the adrenaline-boost in his belt, grabs it and quickly injects on his leg. it takes a second to get his blood rushing again. he crawls up and jumps through the window, which leads him to a metal balcony.

you’re almost standing, but he holds your chains and a gun to your face. the shooting sound had scared you awake. you can’t believe how close to bruce you finally are, but the conditions couldn’t be worse. you can hear water running below your feet, you don’t need daylight to show you the violent river you’re standing above. this is not good.

bruce has his hands up in the air and is holding himself back to not do anything stupid. the man’s face is contorting into the creepiest smile. no.

everything happens so slowly, yet he’s not quick enough to grab you in time. you’re falling in the air and he jumped after you. for a moment, the world is air. you can’t hold out your hand. your hair is flying in your face, he does not want to die without seeing you one last time. his cape holds him back and the distance between you only increases. you’re gone. the impact comes.

part two

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atinylittlepain · 9 months

Text

Crush On You

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

Hungry Hearts masterlist

The summer of '86, a season of love, record-breaking heat, and evening softball games in one Austin neighborhood. What happens when seventeen years later, that lost love comes back around?

warnings | 18+ cursing, smut, young joel is a goddamn menace

wordcount | 9K

a/n | hi folks, i come bearing part two of my hungry hearts series. she's long, okay? i'm sorry, the spirit of young joel possessed me what can i say. hope y'all enjoy this one, come tell me what you think in my inbox! also much love, much thanks to my trenchcoat brother @northernbluess for beta-reading this baby - love you, cousin

.....................................

“Well, well, look who has graced us with her presence. How’d you scare her out of hiding, Miller?”

“Oh, you know, black mail, extortion, a cattle prod.” Her scowl is lost on the pair as Mikey Donahue pulls Joel into a hug that’s more of a gruff back slap than anything else before promptly putting a beer in his hand. Meanwhile, she’s already regretting her decision to come along, trying to temper her grimace when Mikey hooks his arm around her shoulders to crush her into his side, grinning big and boozy down at her.

“Good to see you, big city. College suits you.” She has to laugh, seeing as Mikey didn’t have the time of day for her in high school and now he seems to be all too intent on laying the charm on thick.

“Thanks, Mikey, that’s real, uh, kind of you.” Before Mikey can reply with what she’s sure would be an equally charming remark, Joel curls his fingers in the neck of his t-shirt to pry him away from her, steering him further into the house.

“Alright, Mike, don’t scare her off, I just got her in the door. C’mon, man, I was promised a keg stand here.” All she gets from Joel is one more glance over his shoulder before she has been left entirely alone in a sea of her old classmates, with quite literally no escape route, considering she drove here in Joel’s rusted-out pick-up truck.

She fields a few polite hellos, trying her best to move through the house as unnoticed as possible to get to the backyard and away from the smell of sweat and socially anxious bodies. Mercifully, there’s only a few people outside, couples all tangled up and people smoking around the edge of the pool. She forgot Mikey Donahue had a pool, though she supposes his parents were always notorious for their money and how visible they made it.

This wasn’t her scene in high school, and it certainly isn’t now. Honestly, she’s not sure why she agreed to go with Joel in the first place. Oh yeah, Lisa-Anne. She kind of wishes she let Lisa-Anne have this one.

“Hey, big city, there you are!” Mikey again, this time with no Joel to wrangle him off and away from her. He really is the quintessential all-american boy, home from some expensive east coast school that she can’t remember the name of, the whole blonde and blue eye thing, floppy and smiley like a well-bred golden retriever. She isn’t quite sure where this sudden chumminess with her has come from, they certainly didn’t run in the same circles as teenagers. But there isn’t much room to ponder it when he has once again slung his arm around her, his face so close to hers that she can smell the pabst blue ribbon he probably just tossed back.

“Remind me what you’re studying all the way up in Chicago?” She knows for a fact that drunk Mikey has a temper, like, punching holes in the walls of his parents’ basement temper, so she makes no move to push him away, though she’d really like nothing more right now, trying and failing to create even an inch more of distance between them. Mikey doesn’t like that, dropping his arm to sling low around her waist, his fingers brushing against the bare skin between her jean shorts and where the fabric of her t-shirt has rucked up.

“I’m studying English.” It comes out smaller and quieter than she would like it to, her throat tightening with something like panic at Mikey’s continued advancements. On his part, Mikey seems to find the whole thing amusing, tossing his head back in a hard laugh.

“That’s right, always a little bookworm, weren’t you? Tell me this, what the hell can you even do with an English degree, big city?”

“You can do a lot of things with an English degree, Mike.” She’s just pissed off enough to finally yank out of his grip, sending him stumbling a few feet back, though he’s quick to recover with a laugh that sounds a little less friendly.

“I know it’s been a while since you’ve been home, big city, so I’m gonna do you a favor and pretend like that was just an accident.”

“Hey, Mike, where’d you go, man?” She’s never been so happy to hear Joel’s voice in her life, she thinks, taking one more subtle step back as he sidles up next to Mikey and slings his arm around his shoulders. The light from inside the house casts shadows over Joel’s forearm where it’s draped against Mikey’s chest, and she can see the tendons jumping there from how hard he’s holding onto him, though it otherwise looks like a friendly embrace.

“Was just catching up with that one, Miller, so you can fuck right off, thanks.” And there it is. She feels herself wince with the bite of Mikey’s words, though Joel stays completely calm, a placid and altogether unsettling smile quirking up his mouth.

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, man. Why don’t you leave the nice girl alone and go sleep it off before you do something you’re gonna regret?” She should probably do something other than stand there and stare at what is probably, definitely about to become a bad scene, a small crowd starting to form around them already. But she feels frozen where she stands, her eyes darting between Mikey’s sneer, and Joel’s ticking jaw.

“And who’s gonna make me regret it, Miller, huh? You?” Because they are apparently still children, the crowd of people let out a low chorus of ooooh at that. And then for a moment it’s perfectly silent and perfectly still, Joel and Mikey staring each other down in a strange, half-way thing between an embrace and a strangle-hold. But by the time she blinks again, the both of them have swung, Mikey missing and Joel making clipped contact with the side of Mikey’s jaw. It’s just enough to send Mikey stumbling back and over the edge of the pool, and because he’s still got a fist clenched in Joel’s shirt, he gets yanked in after him.

The crowd is quick to disperse after such a disappointing climax to their little spat, and while Mikey hauls himself out of the pool on the other side like a drowned cat, she finds herself offering out her hand to an equally sodden Joel. He drips all over her sneakers when he gets out, his flannel clinging to his torso, damp and darkened, something she tries not to pay too much attention to.

“You okay?”

“I’m not the one who just fell into a pool.” He drags a hand through his hair to get it slicked back out of his face, water still dripping off the tip of his nose as he looks at her. For a moment, she thinks that he looks small, a slight shiver in his shoulders, his eyes wide and his lashes all stuck together. He looks young, and he’s looking at her and only her.

“I’m fine, Cher, let’s get out of here, huh? This party is dead anyways.” With a quick shake back of his shoulders and a thumb swiped under his nose, that familiar front has already slipped back into place. But she’s fine with it if it means they’re going to get out of this place, letting Joel lead the barreling way back through the house, his sneakers squeaking and squelching with every step. And even though he looks ridiculous, dripping all over the hardwood floors of Mikey’s parents’ house, he keeps his chin tilted up like he owns the place and his shoulders squared off as broad as his leanness will allow, easily parting a path for them through the crowd and out onto the front lawn.

Neither of them speak when they get into the car, leaving the radio off as the engine splutters to life and they start winding their way back out of the wealthy neighborhood. She wants to say something, to thank him, to ask him if he’s sure that he’s okay, but she can’t find the right words, twisting her hands in her lap and watching the way the truck’s headlights spill out over the road.

“So you’re really going for it out in Chicago?” His voice breaking the silence startles her out of her simmering mind, and when she glances over at him, he only offers her a quick side sweep of his eyes before he focuses back on the road.

“You said you’re studying English?” He heard that? How long was he watching her and Mikey?

“Oh, um, yeah, yes.” She keeps her focus on the knuckles of his hand draped over the top of the steering wheel, a subtle tension and flexion to his grip.

“Gonna be a big shot writer, right? That was always your dream, wasn’t it?”

“When I was a kid, yeah. I don’t know, I’ll probably end up teaching, though I think my parents expect me to just wind up married and pregnant by the end of it anyways.” He snorts at that, shaking his head though he keeps his eyes on the road.

“You were always writing stories, Cherry.”

“Uh-huh.” Honestly, she’s surprised he held onto that fact, the ratty composition books she carried around everywhere as a child, and well into her teens too.

“Ever write one about me?”

“Oh, sure.”

“Wait, really?” His eyes finally dart over to her, eyebrows shot up his forehead and she has to bite back a laugh.

“Yeah, it was about your astonishing humility and non-existent ego.” She can barely get it out with a straight face, already dissolving into another laugh as Joel rolls his eyes at her dig.

“Alright, alright, guess I walked into that one.” They’ve just pulled up in front of her house, Joel flicking off the headlights so her parents don’t notice. For once, she’s in no hurry to get away from him, an honestly foreign feeling as they sit in his truck. He’s still soaking wet, his hair starting to stick up every which way from how it’s drying, though he seems perfectly content to keep staring at her, something like a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t like being home very much, do you, Cherry?”

“I really don’t, no.” She says it on a long sigh, no idea why she’s inclined to be honest with him like that.

“How come?”

“I feel like no one takes me seriously down here.”

“I do.”

“Joel.”

“What? I do.”

“How can that possibly be true when you still call me a name that came from me snorting soda out of my nose?”

“Okay, maybe originally it came from that, but that’s not why I call you it now, not really.”

“Please enlighten me then, why do you call me that?” His brow furrows for a moment, like he’s choosing his words carefully, opening and closing his mouth a few times before he finally answers.

“Because– because I just do, okay? But I do take you seriously, for the record.” She leans her head back on the seatrest, tilting her chin to look at him where he has his arm hanging over the steering wheel, his full body leaning and twisting toward her.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh, and I’m gonna want a signed copy of your first book.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher. I probably won’t read it, but I reckon it’ll be worth something when you get all famous and shit.”

“Lovely, Joel, thanks so much for that.” He shrugs, though his gaze stays steady with hers, and it happens again, that softening around the edges, that kid she remembers. And again, it’s gone in a flash, Joel suddenly leaning toward her in an unexpected way. And, well, she reacts before she can really think.

“Jesus! What the fuck, Cher?” He has bodily recoiled from her back into the driver’s side, his palm cupping his cheek where she just landed a hard smack with the flat of her hand.

“Me what the fuck? You what the fuck? What the hell was that, Joel?”

“I don’t– I thought we were having a– a nice moment!” She goes to open the passenger side door, but Joel is quick to reach over and shut it again like a petulant child, eliciting a bitter laugh from her.

“We were until you pulled that shit. I’m not one of your little housewives that you can do whatever you want with.” This time, he doesn’t try to stop her when she clambers out of the truck, though he isn’t quite finished yet.

“Oh c’mon, Cherry! This ain’t playing fair!” She quickly shushes him before he starts to wake up half the neighborhood with his exclamations, only staying close enough to the car so she can whisper yell back at him.

“I’m not playing, Joel. Do me a favor and just stay away from me, why don’t you?”

…

While Sarah may not be the strongest batter, which is okay because Joel is working with her on it most afternoons, she makes for a mean third baseman, though part of him secretly wishes she played shortstop more often. And though he’s usually busy shouting reminders and tips at her from the bleachers, Joel is a bit preoccupied today watching something else, or someone else is more like it.

He’s never been so pissed at chain link fencing in his life for obscuring his view of her, standing in front of the bleachers with her arms crossed and her hip cocked out as she watches the game from behind sunglasses and a ball cap. But he’s also never been more grateful for the Austin swelter because it means that she’s in a tank top and jean shorts, and he’s pretty sure his mind is starting to short-circuit because it looks to him like Cherry picked up some tattoos in the last seventeen years. He can’t tell what they are from this distance, something wrapped over her right shoulder and down her bicep, and, fuck him, something on the top of her right thigh. So maybe he’s craning his neck a little to try to make out what the ink is, and maybe he should be paying more attention to the game, because when there’s suddenly some sort of scuffle on the field between the umpire and one of Sarah’s coaches, he has no clue what he missed.

“That was an out, are you kidding me? She tagged her!” He’s sitting close enough to third that he’s pretty sure it’s Ellie, at least he thinks that was her name, who the umpire and the coach are arguing over whether Sarah got her out or not before she stepped on third. Yeah, definitely Ellie, because here comes Cherry from the bleachers on the other side.

“Her foot was on the base when she tagged her, that wasn’t an out!” The umpire looks at Cherry with an amount of exasperation that tells Joel they’ve interacted before. Cherry, meanwhile, has her cap off and her sunglasses slanted down her nose to look at the ump with all the kindness of a parole officer.

“Ma’am please let us handle this and return to the bleachers.” He’s not sure why he decides to get involved, it’s not like he actually saw what happened. But the combination of it being Sarah who either did or didn’t get Ellie out and his own small desire to get a little closer to Cherry, regardless of the context, has him up off the bleachers and hooking his fingers through the chain link fence.

“I’m pretty sure it was an out, I had a better view of it than you did, Cher.” Judging by the way she scoffs and shakes her head, he probably shouldn’t have called her that, though there isn’t much time to ponder that when she’s walking over to him and getting as up in his face as she can with the thin mesh of chain link separating them.

“Don’t Cher me, Joel.”

“Mom, please, it’s fine, I’m pretty sure she got me before I tagged up.” Ellie and Sarah both look pretty ready for this situation to be over, huffing and rolling their eyes at their parents’ strange display.

“Els, you are not out, okay? You’re gonna stay on third and the game is gonna get going again–”

“Always were a sore loser.” It just slips out, and it isn’t even true. He was the sore loser, and he knows it, and judging by the way Cherry whips back around to glare at him, he has just incurred her admittedly deserved wrath.

“Oh, that is real rich coming from you, Joel Miller, you are–”

“Alright, folks, we don’t have time for this and I’m going to have to ask you both to wait in the parking lot while we finish this game.”

“What?” They say it at nearly the same time to the umpire, who just shakes his head at them and points toward the parking lot next to the ball field.

“Both of you, out of here, or I’m going to disqualify both of your girls from playing.” Well, really no arguing with that, especially not when Sarah and Ellie are giving them both pleading looks from behind the umpire. Cherry doesn’t give him another look, simply mutters an apology to the umpire before heading off toward the parking lot. And all he can do is sheepishly follow behind her with his own apology and a gruff play well offered to Sarah who just rolls her eyes at him.

No, not exactly what he had in mind for their second meeting.

He probably shouldn’t, but since he already seems to be playing the fool, he figures he doesn’t have much to lose in approaching her where she’s sitting in the popped-open trunk of her minivan, her sunglasses pushed up to the crown of her head and her legs swinging idly over the lip of the trunk.

“I’m, uh, sorry about all that.” Her eyebrows raise, a weary look that makes something hot and slippery curl in his gut, a little bashful under her gaze.

“I am too, I guess. They probably shouldn’t let us on the field together, huh?” Her words crack a bit dryly with the curl of her smile, instant relief washing over him in mirroring her expression.

“No, I reckon not.” She doesn’t say anything more, just scoots her hips to one side and pats the space next to her, an invitation he tries not to seem so eager to take as he sits down beside her. Close enough now that he can get a better look at the tattoo on her arm and her thigh. Something beating hard in his chest and tightening up his throat when he realizes that it’s a bouquet of chrysanthemums etched into her thigh. And on her arm, spiraling over her bicep and across her shoulder is a branch of a cherry tree.

…

There’s no other option on a Sunday. She wishes more than anything that there was, but she knows that everywhere else is closed.

“Thatcher’s auto and towing, how can I help you?” She hasn’t spoken to him in two weeks, not since that night they went to Mikey Donahue’s party. She even started picking Will up herself for dinner to avoid having him anywhere near her, pointedly ignoring the his shouts of her name from the ball field whenever she does. So hearing his voice gives her pause, and she nearly hangs the payphone back up, but she really has no other option right now.

“Uh, hi, my car broke down and I need to get it towed.”

“Cherry?”

“Um, yes?” There’s a long pause on the other end, though she’s pretty sure she can hear him let out a deep sigh.

“Shit, okay, where are you?”

“I’m out by the new mall, um, I think right off of eighth street? I don’t know what’s wrong with it, honestly it just sort of– gave out on me.”

“Alright, I’ll be there in five, just stay right where you are.”

“Well, I can’t exactly go anywhere else, Joel.” She can hear the sound of something metal clanging around in the background, followed by Joel letting out a low curse.

“Right, yeah, just hang tight.” With that, he hangs up with a quiet click, and all that’s left to do is walk the two blocks back to her car. Technically, it’s her mom’s car, her old station wagon that had been given to her as a graduation gift, dark green with wood paneling and a dent in the back bumper that she has somehow managed to hide from both of her parents for a year now. She gives the car another once over, definitely nothing wrong with her tires, and she’s not even going to pretend like she’d know what’s going on under the hood, so she settles against the side of the car door and bides her time watching the slow trickle of traffic pass by.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, another record-breaking day of heat, she’s pretty sure. At least it feels that way, her eyes set in a perpetual squint under the hard beat of the sun as she swipes at the sweat on her forehead with the back of her wrist. Though mercifully she’s not waiting for long when a truck with the Thatcher’s Auto logo on the side comes pulling up alongside where she had managed to park her car on the shoulder of the road. He hops out of the truck, dressed in a pair of coveralls with the sleeves tied around his waist, a white wife beater on top that’s smeared with grease stains, and she has to remind herself that she’s still pissed at him when his dimple pops with a sheepish smile as he approaches her, tugging the baseball cap off his head to run a hand through his hair before settling his hat on backwards.

“Hey, Cherry, um, how– how have you been?”

“I’ve been better, Joel, considering that my car won’t even start.” Nope, she’s not going to give him anything else, setting her jaw in a hard line and jerking her chin back over her shoulder as if to say get on with it. Joel seems to take the hint, giving her a jerky nod before taking a quick look around her car.

“Well, your tires look fine. Lemme pop the hood and see if it’s anything obvious.” She hopes more than anything that it is something obvious, that she isn’t going to have to drive back to the shop with him, but judging by the way Joel lets the hood close with a shake of his head, she doesn’t think she has gotten so lucky.

“I don’t know, Cher, I think you’re gonna have to come back to the shop with me so I can take a closer look.” She pinches the bridge of her nose, trying to hold back a frustrated groan before she finally looks at Joel again.

“Okay, fine, and how long is that gonna take, do you think?”

“Got a few other cars I have to take care of first, but it shouldn’t be too long. You okay to wait at the shop?”

“I don’t think I have much of a choice, so yeah.” She waits in the cab of the truck while Joel hitches her car up, keeping her eyes flicked down and out of the passenger window when he gets back in.

“You giving me the silent treatment?”

“No, I just don’t have anything to say to you.” She doesn’t look at him as she says it, but she can hear the huff of a sigh he lets out before he cranks the truck into drive. He doesn’t try to talk to her for the rest of the drive, and she keeps her arms crossed pointedly in front of her chest, her whole body angled toward the passenger-side door. However, when they pull into the garage at Thatcher’s and she tries to get out, the lock on her door promptly clicks down and the handle won’t budge.

“Can we just talk for a second, Cher?” She pries the lock back open, but just as soon as she does, Joel clicks it back into place, forcing her to finally glare at him. His brow is furrowed and his knee is bouncing in his seat, and if she didn’t know any better, she’d guess that he’s nervous.

“Fine, what is so important that you have to lock me into your truck like a goddamn serial killer?”

“Wouldn’t have had to if you weren’t being so goddamn stubborn to begin with.” She lets out a clipped bark of laughter at that, once again pulling the lock up on her own to try to get out, and once again, like a deranged comedy act, he clicks it back into place before she can even get her fingers around the handle.

“Joel Miller, I swear to God, if you don’t let me out of this car right now I’m going to scream.”

“I just– just– fuck, Cherry, I’m sorry, okay? I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” That gives her pause. There have been only two other times in her life that Joel has apologized to her. The first time was when they were eight years old, and really, she thinks, it shouldn’t count because his mom forced him to, her hand between his small shoulder blades nudging him forward to say sorry for pulling on her braid from the pew behind her at church and making her cry.

The second time, they were ten. That one does count. She was sitting on the swings at the playground down the street, scribbling in her notebook when a little crew of boys in the grade above her came out of nowhere and started heckling her. Joel showed up on his bike as she was picking up the tattered pages and scraps of what had been the story she was working on in her notebook. She remembers that she was trying really hard not to cry in front of him when he knelt down beside her to help her gather the torn pieces, small hands trying to make it right. He had nothing to be sorry for, but he still said that he was real sorry, Cher, quiet, and sounding much older and wearier than a ten-year-old should. That one counts. But otherwise, those words coming out of his mouth have been non-existent, so she can’t help but fall silent to hear just what he has to say.

“You’re sorry?” He takes off his cap again, setting it down on the dash of the truck and dragging his hand back through his hair, very clearly having to work himself up to saying it again when he finally looks at her.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about what happened after Mikey’s party. I just– I thought that you–”

“Thought that I what? Did you really think I was going to be that easy, Joel?”

“What? No, if you would just let me finish speaking for Christ’s sake, I know that’s kind of difficult for you and your big mouth–”

“Wow, Joel, you really know how to apologize to a girl, huh?” With that, he slams the heel of his hand against the steering wheel, letting out a sharp curse that makes any other smart remarks fizzle out in her throat.

“You know what, Cher? Just forget it. You can go wait in the office and I’ll have your car ready for you as soon as I can.” He finally unlocks the car door, and she’s more than happy to get out and slam it behind her.

“Fine.”

“Yeah, fine.”

…

“So is your wife not a fan of softball?”

“My what?”

“Your wife, does she not like coming to games?” All he can do is laugh for a moment, pure disbelief at her question, and when he finally looks at her again, her brow still furrowed in confusion, he shakes his head with a huff.

“Is that like a funny question or something?” Just a little snap of annoyance behind her words, though he’s quick to respond, holding out his left hand in between them, his decidedly ringless left hand.

“A little bit considering there is no wife.” It’s the middle of the fourth inning from what he can tell, still plenty of time for them to be not allowed on the field, sitting in the back of Cherry’s car.

“Oh, but– was there one? I mean, Sarah’s mom?”

“Uh, no, she’s not in the picture, at all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. But, uh, what about you? I mean– is Ellie’s– is your, uh–” She cuts off his floundering with a nudge of her shoulder against his, a tight smile on her lips.

“Not in the picture.”

“At all?”

“Never, doesn’t even know Ellie exists.”

“Shit, Cher, that had to have been hard.” She laughs, a clipped sound in the back of her throat as she slides her sunglasses back down onto her nose, keeping her gaze out on the field in front of them. He quickly does the math in his head, pretty sure that Ellie and Sarah are the same age, something heavy and hot settling in his chest when he realizes that she would have only been twenty-two when she had her daughter, just like him. It’s an aching fact, one that his mind starts to swim with, though her voice pulls him out of it quickly.

“It definitely wasn’t easy, but I’d like to think I’ve done alright.”

“I’ll say, it seems like every year there’s a new book of yours in the news for being a bestseller.” She turns to look at him at that, her eyebrows raised and her lips parted before settling into a slight smile.

“Have you read any of them?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to.” His answer seems to stop her, her face falling behind the darkness of her sunglasses, though she’s quick to catch herself with a breathy humph before turning her eyes back on the field in the distance. He wishes he could tuck those words back in his throat, try that again if only to keep her eyes on him.

“Are your folks still in town?”

“Oh yeah, dinner every Sunday with them still.” She hums, a light sound that curls with her smile, though she still doesn’t look at him.

“That must be nice.”

“I think ma would throw a parade if she knew you were back in town.”

“Oh please.”

“I’m dead serious, Cher.” There, she looks at him again, her smile turning crooked as she nudges her shoulder against his, an easy moment that still makes his heart kick up in his chest.

“And Tommy’s still around? Miller’s Construction, right?” He must have a funny look on his face when she says that because she laughs again, something warm and flushed creeping into her cheeks that makes his mind go a little fritzed.

“I promise I’m not stalking you, I was just looking for someone to come fix some stuff at the new house. Sounds like you two have done well for yourselves.” His mind still hasn’t caught up, still such a strange feeling to have her here in the present, talking about these things in the present, all these normal, very grown up things.

“Uh, yes, yeah, we do alright. Tommy is still a fucking nuisance, but it’s good work. What’re you looking to get done?”

“I think my back porch is all rotted out, nearly put my foot through a plank the other day. Do you have any idea how much it would cost to redo the whole thing?”

“I’d have to come take a look, but I could redo it for you, no problem.” He has already decided how much it will cost. Nothing, not for her, though he knows if he told her that now she’d scoff and get someone else to do it who would accept payment. He’ll save that fact for after it’s finished.

“Alright, is there a number I can call to schedule an appointment?” Oh, oh, he’s not stupid enough to let this opportunity pass him by.

“Why don’t I, uh, give you my number? It’ll be easier that way.” He knows she knows what he’s doing, her lips pursing for a moment as if to consider it, but she still slides her phone out of her back pocket and hands it over to him. He has to think really hard about what his phone number is, typing it in with a small tremor in his hand that only gets worse when he gives her phone back to her with a barely there brush of their fingers.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Maybe, what’s the question?”

“Why’d you come back? I don’t know where you’ve been, Cher, but I can tell you that I never expected you to come back here.” Shit, he shouldn’t have asked that, because she’s not looking at him again, her chin tucking down as her mouth settles in a thin grimace.

“Honestly? I don’t know. We were in Chicago for the longest time, and then New York while I was working on my last two books. And it was great while it was great, you know? But it was just too much after a while, too much for Ellie, and too much for me.” He ducks his head down, trying to catch her gaze now that her sunglasses are pushed back up into her hair.

“So you made it to New York, huh?” That gets him a grin, her eyes crinkling up under her lashes at him.

“Yeah, the big leagues and all that shit.”

“How was it?”

“Lonely. I think I would have lost my mind if I didn’t have Ellie.” His heart twinges and then swells in his chest because he hates to hear that, and is also relieved to hear that, and then he hates himself for being relieved to hear that. That there wasn’t anyone else.

“For what it’s worth, Cherry, I’m real glad to see you back here again.” No, that didn’t come out quite right, and he has to stop himself from physically wincing when she gives him a furrowed look in response.

“I find that a little hard to believe, Joel.”

“Why?”

“Well, we didn’t exactly part on the best of terms, did we?” He feels a long sigh leave his lungs, and she’s already hopping out of the trunk and brushing her hands down the front of her shorts as if to shake the conversation off.

“I am sorry, Cher, I–”

“Don’t, Joel. Don’t do that.” She shakes her head hard at him, eyes fierce for a moment before she slips her sunglasses back into place.

“Well I am.”

“Well I don’t want you to be. There’s no need for it when that was such a long time ago.” He wants to say something else, anything, but the tightness in his throat keeps the words stuck and simmering somewhere in his chest. She doesn’t look at him again, murmuring something about the game ending and wanting to help Ellie pack up, and all he can do is dumbly agree, shutting the trunk of her car and walking back toward the field a few paces behind her. Always a few paces behind her, it seems.

…

Joel was full of shit. Something about fixing her car as soon as he could, something about it not taking too long. Yeah, bullshit. She has been sitting in the front office of the auto shop for the last three hours, trying and failing to get some writing done in her notebook amidst the seemingly ceaseless sounds of whirring drills, clanking and crashing metal, and the men in the garage cursing and carrying on amongst themselves. Though some of the sound has died down now that it’s just Joel working, the other men all clocking out at five o’clock. Meanwhile, he hasn’t even gotten to her car yet.

Everytime she glances into the garage, his legs are still sticking out from under a cream-colored mustang. When he does finally pop out from underneath the car, her hopes of getting out of the place soon are quickly dashed as someone pulls up to the gas pumps out front. She knows that car, a convertible in an obnoxious shade of turquoise that could only mean Maureen Henderson. Her daddy got her that car for her sixteenth birthday and she never stopped thinking she was hot shit for it ever since.

She gets up from her cracked vinyl chair in the office to stand at the windows, trying to get a better look at their interaction. Joel is in fine form, of course, leaning down close over the driver’s side door, all grins, all popping gum with his jaw as Maureen rests a perfectly french-tipped set of fingers on his bicep. He must say something really funny for her to toss her head back like that, her teased-out hair bouncing with her tittering laugh. Joel slips around the front of the car, and, really, she thinks, is it so necessary for him to pump Maureen’s gas for her? Can Maureen really not just pump her own gas like a normal person? All a bit outdated, if you ask her. Though Maureen seems perfectly pleased with the whole production, leaning across the passenger’s side and slipping a few folded up bills into the back pocket of Joel’s coveralls while he’s turned away to set the pump back in its holster. How nauseatingly sweet of Maureen, who’s rewarded with another grin and something that must be really fucking funny for her to laugh so loud before she peels away from the shop with one more waggle of her fingers at him. Joel, meanwhile, seems in no hurry to get back to work as he moseys back into the garage, counting the bills that Maureen just tucked into his pocket with a stupid smirk on his face. Yeah, she’s seen quite enough.

“Hey, so I’m just wondering, when you said this wasn’t going to take too long, did you know that you were full of shit? Or is Maureen just that distracting?” Her eyes nearly water when she steps into the garage from the smell of motor oil and burnt rubber, though she’s a little too pissed to worry about that as she walks over to where Joel is rummaging through a tool box next to the mustang.

“Aw, Cherry, don’t tell me you're jealous of little old Maureen.” She would like to smack his smile clean off his face, the only thing stopping her being the fact that she still needs him to fix her car.

“I’m not jealous, Joel. I have been sitting in that office all afternoon watching you do everything except fix my car and I would like to go home now.”

“So you’ve been watching me, huh?”

“Christ, you really are relentless, aren’t you?” She honestly can’t believe he’s already bounced back to his incessant teasing after their little blow up in his truck, poking his tongue into the side of his cheek and squinting at her as she huffs at him.

“Alright, Cher, you’ve waited long enough. I’ll take a look.” She follows close on his heels as he sidles over to her car, popping the hood and ducking his head under to look at the engine.

“Well?” Though she has no clue what he’s looking at, she still leans over the engine next to him, searching his face for any answers.

“Hmm, oh, here’s your problem.” He twists what looks like a loose knob down into the engine, shocking her with how quickly he stands back up with a satisfied smirk on his face.

“That– that’s it?”

“Yep, loose spark plug.”

“And you couldn’t have fixed that earlier on the side of the road?”

“No, I could have, but then you wouldn’t have come and kept me company with your death glare all afternoon.” He can barely get his words out around a laugh. But she is decidedly not laughing. It’s completely impulsive, and maybe childish, but it feels good to shove the flat of both her palms into his chest, making him stumble back against the side of the mustang parked next to her car. And since it felt so good the first time, she decides to do it again, this time with enough force for his laughs to die out with a grunted oof.

“You’re an ass, do you know that? A huge– fucking– ass–” Each word gets punctuated with another shove, though on the last one Joel wraps his hand around her wrists, collecting them both in a tight hold and only pulling her closer against his chest when she tries to yank away from him.

“Let go, Joel.” Their faces are so close to each other’s that she can smell the cinnamon on his breath from that Big Red gum he likes to chew, can even see the freckle tucked between his lashes underneath his right eye, the same freckle that’s been there since they were kids.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not gonna let go.”

“You’re a fucking child.”

“That the best you got, Cherry baby?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Or else what?” A beat, a blink, a moment for her heart to sink into her stomach and shoot straight up into her throat when they both lurch into the space between them. There’s nothing nice about the first one, in fact, it hurts a little with how hard they both press into it, her nose mashing up against his as their teeth scrape and clash with each other. They kiss ugly. They kiss angry. Both of them too stubborn to let the other one get away with anything, the moment he licks into her mouth, she tangles her fingers in the back of his hair and tugs hard, swallowing down the grunt that looses from his throat. Though her upper hand is short-lived when Joel drops both his palms down to her ass and squeezes hard, her whole body jolting in his hold and pressing closer to him. He’s probably getting grease all over her clothes, but she’s not too concerned with that as she keeps drawing low little groans out of him every time she swipes her tongue against his.

“Wait, Cher– shit, wait– I can’t– I don’t–” She finally pulls back when he keeps mumbling, and suddenly the reality of the situation comes plummeting down on her, starting to panic when it seems like Joel has decided this was all a big mistake.

“What, what is it?”

“I want to do this right with you– your– you should have a nice first time and–”

“Wait, what?” Joel’s eyes get wide and round, his hands dropping down by his sides from where they had been holding her hips when she takes a step back from him.

“Well, I, uh– you– you’re–”

“Joel, have you just assumed that I’m a virgin?” He winces at the word like it’s a curse, and she finally has to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

“Does that mean you’re not?”

“Just shut up, Joel.” With that, she reaches forward for his waist where the sleeves of his coveralls are tied, making quick work of the knot and rucking his pants the rest of the way down as she kneels in front of him. She tucks her fingers into the band of his boxers, unable to help her grin when she feels his stomach tense against her knuckles.

“Can I?”

“Fuck, yeah, yes– you can do whatever you want, Cherry.” She likes him like this, with his throat bobbing and a crack in his voice pitching his words up an octave, his eyes wide and watching as she tugs his boxers down. And oh, she likes him like this too. Pretty boy who’s certainly pretty all over. The narrow tanness of his hips tapers into a dark thatch of curls, and well, there’s no two ways about it, he’s big, already hard, the tip flushed a perfect pink. Only a little intimidating, but judging by the sound he makes when she suckles the head of him into her mouth, she has it under control.

“Oh my god– fuck, okay, fuck– you– you’re good at that– Jesus.” There’s a bit too much of him to take it all into her mouth, though she does her best to bob her head down his length, her hand wrapping around what she can’t quite reach as she laps at the vein running along the underside of his cock. A fleeting thought in the back of her mind, this was not how she imagined her day going, not in any universe. But something has snapped, something that cannot be stitched back together. And now, all she feels is an aching want, pulling taut in her stomach, pulling her to him. Want, want, want. She’s never wanted something so bad in her life, she thinks. Not very ladylike to want like this, to gag with it, to dribble spit around it, to see how much more she can take just to coax another broken moan out of his chest, her palms splayed out on his hips to keep him pinned still beneath all her want. But what she didn’t consider is that he wants it just as bad and big as she does, hooking his hand around the back of her neck to pull her off of him and hoist her onto her feet, chasing after the taste of himself on her tongue as he turns them around to press her up against the side of the car.

“That was gonna be over too fucking soon if I let you keep doing that.” His hands get a little greedy, a little desperate, fumbling to get her t-shirt off before tugging her bra up and overhead without even unclasping it, ducking his head down to let his teeth scrape and nip at the newly exposed skin. He pauses only for a moment, pulling back, his parted lips shiny and blushing and his eyes heavy as he takes her in. She can’t help but drag her hand back through his hair, something tight settling in her chest when he absent-mindedly nudges his cheek closer into the cup of her palm.

“You’re something else, Cherry.” She doesn’t have any time to ask him just what he means by that, his lips already finding hers again, a small gasp in the back of her throat at the feeling of her nipples dragging against the fabric of his wife beater. And then it’s an awkward, slow shuffle, given that his coveralls and boxers are still pooled and pulled around his ankles, around to the front of the car, his hands finding the backs of her thighs to coax her up and onto the hood. From there his palms start to wander, one coming to cup the side of her neck before slipping down to her breast, the boyish squeeze he leaves there making her laugh, though the sound dies fast when his other hand rests heavy at the waistband of her shorts, thumbing at the button.

“Can I touch you, Cher?” It’s entirely too earnest, the way he’s looking at her from beneath the thick fan of his lashes, a small crease between his brows. And she’s a little afraid of how her want might skitter up her throat, so instead of saying anything, she simply pulls him in by the nape of his neck for another kiss as her other hand bats his away to undo her shorts. Mercifully, it’s enough of an answer for Joel, his hand replacing hers and dipping down beneath the fabric of her panties, the broadness of his palm cupping her cunt and grinding up into her heat in a way that makes her gasp against his mouth.

Annoyingly, he’s halfway decent at it, swiping his fingers through her cunt in a harsh rub, though she tenses up when he tries to immediately dip two of his thick fingers into her clenching entrance.

“Jesus Christ, warm me up a little first, why don’t you?” He looks genuinely perplexed by her exclamation, his hand stilling beneath the fabric of her panties as his brow crumples in reaction.

“What did I do wrong?” She tugs lightly at the hair at his nape, a light laugh leaving her lips when he lets out a huff like an impatient boy.

“You’re a bit harsh, Joel.”

“Well, I’ve never had any complaints before.” Said with a roll of his eyes and his hand still down her pants so really, she has a hard time taking him seriously.

“Well, I’m complaining. Just– gentler, here.” She clasps her fingers around his wrist to pull his hand away, giving her room to shimmy her shorts and panties further down over the curve of her ass, the way Joel’s eyes instantly fall to where her legs have now splayed open a bit wider not getting lost on her. She fits her palm to the back of his hand, guiding it back to her cunt, her fingers pressing against the backs of his to direct a firm, swirling pressure to her clit. Her head tilts back on her neck as the pleasure settles over her slow and smooth, continuing to guide Joel’s hand with her own.

“Just like that, s’perfect.”

“Like that?” He says it so quietly, so uncharacteristically small that her attention snaps back onto him. His eyes are glued to where her hand is still moving his, lips parted, a look that borders on wonder and clear concentration, and suddenly, she can’t take her own gaze away from the sight, her head tilting on her shoulder as her hand falls away from his to let him do it on his own.

“Yeah, Joel, feels really good like that. You can– you can add a finger now.” When he does, much slower, much softer, her eyes scrunch shut with a small curse and a sigh, and she finds herself leaning back on her elbows over the hood of the car, her whole body splayed out before him. Joel follows her slow fall, keeping a steady rhythm with his hand as he curls over her, his mouth resting hot and open between her breasts before he tilts his head to the side to take the peak of one of her nipples into his mouth.

“That feel good, Cher?”

“Yes, keep doing that, please. I– I’m gonna get there just like this.” Miracle, he listens, only adding another finger when she asks him for it, fucking her with his hand just how she wants him to. Miracle, she can’t tear her eyes away from his, the way he seems to be watching her face for every tell, every sigh and every fall. And miracle, she comes undone for him slowly, a cry catching in her throat when it finally hits her, the easiest unraveling. He only stops when she whines for him to, tugging his hand away and pulling him down for a kiss that’s more just two open mouths laying over each other than anything else.

“Can we? Do you want to?”

“Yes, I want to.”

“Condom?”

“Birth control.”

“Gotta love women’s lib.”

“Just don’t tell my mom.”

“Please don’t talk about your mom right now, Cher.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, just come here.” He struggles a bit to tug her shorts and panties off of her feet, the fabric getting caught on her sneakers, though when he’s finally successful it’s the easiest thing for his hips to slot with hers, his hands curling around the backs of her knees to hitch her legs around his waist. Her arms settle loosely around his shoulders, laying back and bringing him with her as he presses his cock against her swollen cunt. A quick snarl of pain that pleasure snaps and smacks after when drives into her with one languid stroke, both of them letting out stuttered sighs when his hips press against hers. All of that want flickering up and down her spine as he starts to fuck into her, spreading her open again and again.

“S’a fucking dream, you’re a fucking dream.” She almost wants to laugh at the breathless murmuring of his words, because truthfully she doesn’t think anything has ever felt this real. Her body fitting around his, the way her heart is threatening to beat a break in her ribs, the way her nails can drag down the sliding wings of his shoulder blades, and the incessant, aching heat of him throbbing so deep inside her that she thinks she’ll still feel that hurt tomorrow. She hopes that she will.

“Joel, look at me, please.” She has to tug on his hair to coax his face out of the hollow of her throat and suddenly that want is dangerous. Looking into the crumpled pleasure painted across his face, watery eyes and slack jaw, and that want becomes dangerous because that want becomes something more.

She can feel her slick dripping down her thighs, the sound of skin meeting skin mixing with the obscene slip of it, only a fleeting worry about making a mess of the car, though that flits away when Joel drags his fingers back over her clit a little harder, a little greedier.

“Just want one more, Cher, please.” She likes please on his tongue. Please pushes her right over the edge. A little harder this time, a little more ragged, furling up tight and taut around him before everything melts down with a whine of his name. He’s still saying please like a prayer when he comes, and all she can do is sigh with the warmth spreading inside of her. Inhale, exhale, her ribs expanding as his contract, a careful, quiet dance as they both come down, still pressed close, lips suggesting grazes.

“Do you, uh, want to come up to my apartment?” Want says yes, a whisper her ears prick to under the obvious shout of no. Want says yes, over and over.

“Yeah, okay.”

....................................

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #tlou #tlou fanfiction #joel miller angst #joel miller x you #the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller story #joel miller series #joel miller fic #joel miller imagine #joel miller au

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tonyspank · 10 months

Text

TRUTH HURTS

Summary: Your girlfriend finds out your secret.

A/N: I was listening to Lizzo when I wrote this lol. And I didn't revise this at all, so if there are mistakes, sorry!

Warnings: Reader and Jenna being too cute at the end. But actually, I can't think of anything.

"I just took a DNA test turns out I'm 100% that bitch! Even when I'm crying crazy." You sing on top of a rooftop, your Spider Suit hugging your body. Karen (an artificial intelligence user interface created by and installed in your Spider Suit by Tony Stark) had turned on your swinging playlist that you had created last month. You pause your singing to take a bite of your sandwich you'd gotten from the deli a few blocks down, savoring its sweet and salty flavors.

Being New York's Spider-Man/Woman was absolutely exhausting. Yet, the thrill of it all was worth it. You smiled, content with the knowledge that you were making a difference in the city. You had to balance your heroic tasks with your everyday life, but it was worth it. You felt proud to be able to help people in need and make a difference in the world. You had found your true purpose. Sometimes you'd fear for the people you loved. You didn't want them to get involved in the crime you fought everyday. You kept doing your best to protect them while taking on the criminals. You knew that you were making a change and that's what kept you going.

Jenna, your girlfriend and also an upcoming actor didn't know exactly who you were. She thought you had a normal job, and thought you were just an ordinary person. She had no idea that you were Spider-Man/Woman, risking your own life to save others. You were afraid to tell her the truth, but at the same time you wanted her to know the truth. You decided maybe one day you could tell her hope she would understand.

You freeze your dancing and chewing, seeing a group of thugs walking into an alleyway. You knew you had to act fast, so you shoved the remaining half of your sandwich into your mouth, pulling down your mask. "Karen! Pause my playlist please." You asked the AI assistant installed in your mask. You started running, jumping off the roof and shooting a web out towards the alleyway, determined to protect your neighborhood.

You followed them, keeping a safe distance, and watched as they opened a door in the back of the alleyway. The door revealed a secret hideout with a large stash of weapons. You web yourself to a corner of the hideout, waiting for an opportune moment to act. Suddenly, the door opened and several armed men entered the hideout. You knew you had to act fast and without hesitation. You quickly webbed one of the thugs to the nearest wall.

"It's Spider-Man/Woman!"

The other thugs were taken by surprise raising their weapons at you. "Now that's no way to treat company!" You say with a smirk under your mask. "I was on my lunch break before this!" You fired a web at the thugs and they were suspended in mid-air, helpless. You quickly zip around the room, disarming each thug and taking their weapons.

You turn to the last one, still suspended in the air, and say "Let that be a lesson to you. Don't mess with me on my lunch break." Before you fire another web, your phone vibrates. You drop to the ground, pulling it out of your tight pocket and read the contact name, which reads "Jenna" Face-Timing you.

Really? Now? When you're fighting criminals? The thug attempts to attack you with a crowbar, but you dodge it easily holding up a finger. "Dude, please? I gotta text my girlfriend."

The thug stops, stunned, and laughs. He throws the crowbar to the side, shaking his head. "Man, you got some serious priorities. Alright, go ahead and text your girl, I'll wait."

The thug stepped back and crossed his arms. He watched with amusement as you texted away, trying to explain to Jenna you were too busy to Face-Time. After a few moments you put away your phone, turning back to the thug. "Alright, I'm ready." The thug grinned, showing off his broken teeth. He took a step forward and raised his fist. "Let's get this started then," he said.

You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, preparing for the fight. The thug lunged forward, but you were ready, dodging his attack and counterattacking with a flurry of punches and kicks. In a few short seconds, the thug lay on the ground, defeated.

"Karen could you call this in and call Jenna back for me?" You nicely ask the AI, Karen responded, "Yes, of course. I am calling Jenna now." Karen connected Jenna to a call and the police were dispatched.

You web away from the scene, as Jenna answers and you hear her lovely voice. "Hey, where are you?" You answer, "I'm at home. I just got back from Feast. " Jenna is suspicious but you assure her that you were just busy helping your Aunt.

She reluctantly believes you, "Oh, okay. Well, I have good news!" You swing low in the streets, dodging cars to entertain yourself. She continues, "I got the role!" You nearly get hit by a car, but move just in time. You yell with joy, "That's great! Congratulations!" Jenna laughs and tells you how excited she is about the new role. You talk to Jenna for a few more minutes, sharing your excitement about her news. "How about I take a shower and come to your place?"

"Orrrr," She trails off, "I come to your place and we use your vinyl player and celebrate over dinner?" You hesitantly agree. Were you going to make it back home in time to shower, prepare dinner, change, and beat her there? You start swinging off your webs faster, hoping not to run into anything with the speed you're going. You see your apartment building in the distance and you're relieved. You quickly swing inside from your open window. You turn around to close your window, but your heart drops when you hear a gasp behind you.

You spin around to find your girlfriend standing in the doorway, her mouth agape. How did she get here so fast?! You stand there frozen, unsure what to say. She stares at you, her eyes wide and searching for answers. Your heart beats faster as you try to come up with an explanation. You take a deep breath and take off your mask throwing it somewhere in your room as you open your mouth about to speak.

You finally blurt out, "It's not what it looks like!" She looks at you skeptically and you can tell she doesn't believe you. You take a step back, trying to figure out how to convince her otherwise. You open your mouth to explain, but no words come out. You sigh, "Okay, maybe it is what it looks like."

She stares at you, and you take a step closer to her. You reach out to take her hands in yours. She flinches and pulls away, but you continue to hold out your hands, looking into her eyes. She takes them, and you squeeze her hands, letting her know that you understand. "I wanted to tell you."

"Why haven't you?" "I was scared," You say. "I thought you wouldn't believe me, or worse, that you would think I was crazy. And I don't want you to get hurt because of me." She nods, letting go of your hand to run a hand down your cheek. It was a claw scratch from months ago, a battle you had with The Black Cat.

"What happened here? I’m now starting to realize it wasn’t Ms. Browns cat." You take a deep breath and tell her about the fight, and the superhuman strength of the cat, and how you managed to get away. You tell her about the strange feelings you have been having lately, and how you think something strange is going on. She listens quietly, her face a mix of concern and understanding.

"Are we okay?" You ask, your voice barely above whisper. She smiles softly and takes your hand again. "We're okay. I believe you, and I'm not going anywhere," she says, her voice gentle but strong. "We'll figure this out together." She gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. You take a deep breath, the tight knot in your chest loosening a bit. You can do this, with her by your side.

You nod, your eyes meeting hers. She smiles again and brings your hands to her lips, kissing them softly. You feel a warmth rush through your body as you realize that, together, you can take on anything. You pull her into a hug, your hearts beating in time.

You whisper in her ear that you love her and she whispers it back, her breath tickling your neck. Holding each other, you guys are okay. You stay like that for a few minutes, before finally pulling away. You both laugh and she takes your hand in hers, the warmth of her skin instantly grounding you. You walk together towards the future, ready to take on the world.

"So, Black Cat. What's she like?" She grinned, her eyes twinkling with mirth. You playfully roll your eyes at the question, "A real wildcat and a tease." You smiled, "You kind of remind me of her." Jenna looks at you, a brow raised. "I remind you of one of your villains?" You chuckle, "In some ways. But that's why I like her. She keeps me on my toes." Jenna grins and shakes her head, "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

You laugh, glad your girlfriend took everything so well. You didn't know what you would do if you lost her over your secret identity. Jenna puts her arm around you and says, "I'm just glad you're here with me. I love you no matter what." You smile and kiss her forehead, relieved that you could share your secret with her and that she accepted it.

After you change, shower, and prepare dinner Jenna and you spend the rest of the night talking about your powers and how you got them. You feel a connection to her that you didn't before, because you can now be open and honest with her. You are grateful for her understanding and love.

Jenna steps out of the apartment as her phone rings, and you lay down on the sofa, relieved as you watch TV. You feel like you can finally take a deep breath and enjoy the night's calm.

Outside of your apartment door, Jenna answers her phone. A known voice is on the other end. "Kingpin," Jenna murmurs into her phone, sighing. "Hey Felicia," Jenna grits her teeth together in anger. "That's not my name anymore. I left it behind along with that life." Jenna pauses for a moment, her heart racing as she remembers her old life. She takes a deep breath and continues. "I'm not going back." Kingpin laughs, a mocking sound that grates on Jenna's nerves. "You know I can find you wherever you wander."

"Listen," she says firmly, her voice full of determination. "I'm done with the old me. I'm creating a new life, and I'm not going to let anyone drag me back." She takes a deep breath and straightens her posture, her eyes blazing with determination. "I'm done with crime."

"But is it done with you?" I've seen you on the TV. Trying to convince everyone and yourself that you're a good person." Kingpin replies, on the other side of the phone. "I know what you're trying to do, I can tell. But you can't run away from who you are." Jenna remains silent, not knowing what to say.

He continues, "Or do I have to touch that spider of yours to remind you?" Jenna takes a deep breath, feeling like a million thoughts are running through her head. "You won't get the chance," she says angry. "If you or your goons show your face in New York, you're done with."

He laughs. "I admire your courage, Jenna," he says. "But don't forget who you're dealing with. I'm not some kind of joke." The line clicks, and the call is disconnected. Jenna takes another deep breath, trying to calm down. She knows she's made a powerful enemy, and she's not sure what to do next. She has to be careful, she knows. She can't let her guard down. But she also knows that she has to stay strong and fight for what she believes is right.

Suddenly, the door opens and Jenna comes back, a small smile on her face. "You okay?" You ask, concerned. Jenna nods and smiles, not wanting to worry you. She takes your hand and leads you away, ready to take on whatever comes next.

Jenna jumps at a noise emanating from your bedroom. With your super-hearing you can hear it clearly. "Oh, when you walk by every night. Talking sweet and looking fine, I get kinda hectic inside."

"Sorry," you mumble, embarrassed. "That's Karen playing my swinging playlist." Jenna's face relaxes in relief, and she smiles. You take her hand and lead her to the bedroom. You ask Karen to turn up the music, and you both start dancing to the music coming from your mask. You both laugh as you twirl around the room, forgetting the world outside. As the song ends, you pull Jenna close and kiss her. You both agree that there's no better way to spend your Saturday night.

#reader insert #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #spiderman #spiderman reader #spider woman #spiderwoman reader #jenna ortega x gn!reader #jenna ortega x male reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader

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