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yaespook · 6 months

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Indulgence.

✧ Room Content: Dom! Top! GN! AMAB! Incubus! Reader x Sub! Switch! Priest! Kaveh x Sub! Bottom! Incubus! Alhaitham, mostly focused on Kaveh, threesome, sacrilegious themes (Catholicism), worshipping and blasphemy, inexperienced virgin Kaveh, Kaveh has religious guilt regarding masturbating/sex, Kaveh wears a clerical collar, handjob (reader receiving), frotting (Alhaitham with Kaveh), vague incubus powers (entering dreams and binding tattoos). Leave a note if anything was missed out. ✧ Retrieved Notes: [The head of the fortune cat appears on the front desk.]

It started out quite innocently in Kaveh’s mind really.

It was another early morning Sunday mass. The same old kind where it was mostly just grandparents attending, when the warm sunlight hasn’t quite fully peeked through the clouds yet. The lights in the church weren’t all on either because only the front few pews were occupied anyway, dousing the environment in a cold sort of blueish grey.

For Father Kaveh, the processes were all the same. The same parishioners, the same blue-greyness, the same prayers. It was always the same and it has always been for a while now.

But today was different. During his homily, he caught a glimpse of two unfamiliar faces sitting amongst the congregation in the wooden pews of the church. It’s hard not to notice such a charming presence intently listening in on the homily he had prepared in a crowd of churchgoers who looked half asleep.

(He would be lying if he said that the both of you weren't attractive too. Unfortunately, lying is definitely a sin. Hence, he simply admits it in his mind and files it away in a mental archive for… further reflection when he has the time. Ugh, it’d be better if that man next to you put down the book he was reading.)

If he injected a little more pep into his homily after you piqued his interest, then no one but God has to know.

However, he's later promptly caught off guard when the two of you were the first ones to approach him after mass for a chat. Kaveh’s never one to turn down an opportunity to get to know and welcome new parishioners so of course he enthusiastically grasped at the chance to talk to the both of you.

Sparing a subtle glance up and down, he drinks in the sight before him. You were both dressed impeccably, not a single hair out of place, sinfully glamourous. But Kaveh knows better than to ogle so he tears his gaze away and instead focuses on making conversation instead.

“A blessed morning to the both of you! I don't think I've ever seen you two in the early morning congregation before, I am Father Kaveh, the priest of this parish.”

He extends a hand for a handshake, first towards you, which you grasp firmly. When you make contact with him, Kaveh is slightly taken aback at the heightened warmth of your touch on his skin.

“Sorry, I’ve been told I run hotter than most, but it’s a pleasure to meet you, Father Kaveh,” your voice is smooth and pleasing to the ear, a shake snaking its way down his spine when you say your own name. Silently, he repeats your name in his mind, and he’s further charmed when you remark, “I’ve heard a lot about you, all good things, don’t worry, which is why Alhaitham and I came to see you.”

Kaveh’s head swivels to look over at the other, Alhaitham, and when he shakes his hand, he finds out that the both of you run rather hot. There’s a book held in his other hand, the one he was reading earlier during mass.

“Likewise, a pleasure to meet you,” Alhaitham says, levelling Kaveh with an unreadable stare, “We look forward to getting to know you more.”

At this, Kaveh beams, a cheery grin on his face, “As do I. If you ever need it, the mass timings are always in the weekly church bulletin, I hope to see the two of you more often.”

He excuses himself to chat with the other parishioners, bidding the two of you goodbye. However, even whilst talking to the others and hearing about their day-to-day troubles, and throughout the rest of the week, he finds his mind drifting back to the both of you. What makes you so memorable, so charming to him? Is it the way you carry yourself? Your voice? Or is it simply just, you?

He catches himself looking forward to the next mass where he might see you again, to spot your faces amidst the tired crowd, to converse again. And he does, every Sunday morning mass.

Kaveh sees you and Alhaitham sitting in the same pew every time you attend and it’s almost like clockwork whenever his eyes quickly dart over to the two of you when he’s addressing the congregation. And he firmly attests that you crack him a small smile when you catch him doing so, as if you knew he was going to glance over at that very second.

Over the weeks, he’s grown attached despite the warning bells scolding him not to at the back of his mind.

“Kaveh, get a hold of yourself, you’ve dedicated yourself to the church, this is no way to be thinking of your parishioners,” slapping his cheeks lightly, he tries to shake the thoughts of you out of his head but it seems like no matter what he does, you’ve managed to slither your way into his brain, where you now reside in 24/7.

Sighing, he says a prayer (one imploring for the strength to resist temptation) before he tucks himself into bed for a restful night.

Except, it’s anything but.

As soon as he succumbs to slumber, his eyes snap open at the sensation of a hand stroking through his hair. They adjust to the ceiling light in his room, strange, didn’t he turn them off before sleeping?

Blearily looking up, he sees the twin troubles plaguing him. But there’s no way the two of you are here, you don’t know the church grounds that well and there should be no reason for you to know which room he stays in either. It’s all improbable and that’s how he figures out that this is just some sort of fucked up lucid dream. (A small buried part of him deflates at this knowledge for some reason.)

“Hey Father Kaveh, sorry we couldn’t wait until the next Sunday, so we’ve come to see you early,” your words snap him out of his thoughts.

“Oh no, for you to infiltrate even my dreams, just how much am I thinking about the two of you?” Kaveh grumbles as his hand goes to rest over his eyes. He hears you chuckle before Alhaitham speaks next.

“So you think about us too?” The bed shifts and another hand joins in to roughly tussle his hair.

“Begrudgingly so, it’s as if you’ve consumed my every waking thought,” a weak sigh, “Maybe it’s a test from above, something meant to test me.”

“That’s rough, Father Kaveh, to be reduced to ‘something meant to test you’, after all these weeks,” you feign a watery tone, “Is that all you see us as?”

“No! Of course not!” He yells out, snapping to sit upright and grabbing your hands. As if he could ever see you as a burden to shoulder. You’ve been nothing but courteous and kind to him, a rare indulgence in his routine days and scheduled masses. Someone who actually consistently converses with him, asking about him, caring for him.

The bed shifts again, Alhaitham and you moving to sit in closer next to him, and you ask, “That’s a relief, then what do you see us as?”

Kaveh feels that familiar quiver snake its way down his spine, like all those weeks ago when it first started, the words caught in his throat as he scrambles to produce an appropriate yet truthful answer to your loaded question.

“I… I can’t lie,” his voice is shaky, trying to navigate the chaos in his mind for the right thing to say.

“It’s fine, you can tell us,” Alhaitham’s voice lulls.

Whatever. It’s a dream after all.

Kaveh sucks in a breath before blurting out, “My thoughts about the two of you have veered into more sinful territories-!”

A beat of silence passes and he buries his face into his hands, bright red all the way up to the tips of his ears.

“Such an honest priest we have here on our hands, anything else you want to confess, Father Kaveh?” Your tease makes him flush even more, intense embarrassment washing over him but it changes instantly when you turn his hand over and gently kiss the back of it.

Great, now his mind is making him dream of such situations?

His vision spins when he feels Alhaitham’s hands roam up his back, the heat permeating through his pyjamas as you lean in next to his ear, your breath on his exposed skin hot, hot, hot.

“I would give you your penance but it seems like we’ve run out of time, shame,” your tongue darts out to lick the shell of his ear and he shakes. You snap your fingers.

“Wake up.”

Kaveh snaps up, awake for real this time. The warm sunlight streams in through a window but he can’t find it in himself to enjoy such a wonderful morning when his mind is still reeling from such a depraved dream. He looks down. He’s hard.

No matter what he does, his usual morning prayers, an awfully cold shower, nothing helps to solve his problem. And he’s running out of time with the next scheduled mass coming up soon.

Biting his bottom lip, he experimentally presses his palm against his clothed cock, immediately rewarded with a rush of pleasure through his body. Repeating the action, he palms his erection, breath coming out in pants at the ramping buzz in him.

“Hah… Forgive m-me Father, for I- ah! -have sinned,” Kaveh blubbers out pitifully between breaths, praying as he tries to tear his mind away from the sin of his act.

He’s never… touched himself in such a way before, and to discover how terrifyingly addictive the bliss that he’s been holding himself back from experiencing all this time is, he feels his resolve crack.

Hurriedly, he shimmies his pants and underwear down, just enough for him to wrap his hand around his cock, revelling in the newness of the sensation. He starts with a light tug, aided by the amount of precum from his earlier palming, and the direct friction goes to muddy his brain. He resorts to biting down on his finger to muffle his noises lest anyone comes down the corridor.

Thoughts of you and Alhaitham flood his brain, the way his hands crept up his back, your tongue on his skin. Unconsciously, his hand speeds up its pace, slick sounds and stifled lewd moans filling the room the more he thinks about the two of you, the fantasies growing more and more unrestrained.

What would you think if you found out this is how your church’s priest spends his time? Would you berate him? Or would you indulge him? Maybe you’d teach him how to masturbate, your hand covering his own as you guide him on how to stroke your dick while Alhaitham steals kisses from him.

He thinks of your voice whispering lowly into his ear, frighteningly realistic, “We want you, Kaveh.”

Head thrown back, he feels the pressure building up to a peak in him, muscles draw taut as a blinding white-hot pleasure shoots through him, and he cums for the first time in his life ever, the forbidden fruit that he’s denied himself up till now.

Kaveh struggles to catch his breath after his high, desperately rutting into his hand to ride it out. After he does, he’s instantly filled with an indescribable guilt, rushing into the bathroom to wash off the evidence of his act, staring at his dishevelled appearance in the mirror.

How could he think of you in such a way? (How could he not?)

The next time he approaches the both of you after mass, he makes sure to do it after most of the crowd has already gone off, leaving the three of you alone. Avoiding your gazes, he starts.

“Apologies to keep the two of you waiting… some of the others had a lot to chat about,” a forced laugh, “But it is in my best interest that I should stop interacting so much with you both.”

You give him a quizzical look and Alhaitham quirks an eyebrow at his words, making him quickly tack on some reassurance, “It’s not the fault of either of you, worry not. And it would be too much for me to get into-”

“Certainly not,” Alhaitham cuts him off, his voice alluring, “It’s fine, you can tell us.”

Unable to stomach the thought of his relationship with you souring and ending on a bad note, he swallows down his fear and invites the two of you to his quarters to come clean about everything.

So, how is it that he’s found himself in this position?

It started out already rather lewdly in your mind.

Catching wind of a devout priest in town, loved by many, adored by most. Naturally, it was your job as an incubus to corrupt him. And they’ve assigned your lovely junior, Alhaitham, as your partner in sin.

The first meeting went well enough, charming Kaveh without the use of your powers, it seems as if he was as taken with you as you were with him. His lovely blond locks, his sweet voice, that downright sinful waist of his. How long would it take until he would snap and tumble into bed with the two of you so that you could defile him and show him the delectable paradise of ecstasy that he’s been abstaining from?

Over the weeks, you’ve teased Kaveh in the most minute of ways. Sly innuendos tossed in nonchalantly during conversations, lingering touches that you can see him secretly longing for. And perhaps you can’t say that Alhaitham and you aren’t unaffected by his charm too.

The impatience was driving the both of you wild, judging from how uncharacteristically antsy he’s been behaving. You’re no stranger to being intimate with him, indulging him when he gets particularly needy. And you can tell he’s pent up when he’s grinding on your thigh as he kisses you, so spoiled.

When you break apart, cupping his cheek, you ask, “Think our priest is asleep yet? How about we pay him a little visit?” Snapping your fingers, you transport the two of you into Kaveh’s dream, where you plant the final seeds of temptation and guide him down the blissful path of damnation.

The dream ended way too fast for your liking but it all worked out in the end, since now you’re here, in Kaveh’s room with him seated in your lap facing you.

Kaveh’s mind is spinning, unable to comprehend how fast all this is moving. First, he invites the two of you in to talk everything over in a more private location. Then, everything comes spilling out, his thoughts about you, even the sensual dream. His eyes are pinned to his hands clenched into fists in his lap, in fear that your gazes might be one of disgust towards him. It’s all too much, he’s backed himself into something too raw and too vulnerable and he can’t help when tears well up in his eyes, falling onto his hands.

A quick glance over to Alhaitham, and you pull Kaveh into your lap, an act to console him. Gently moving his head onto your shoulder for him to cry into, you shush him.

“Oh Father Kaveh, please don’t feel so guilty, after all, isn’t it natural to be tempted?” Patting the back of his head, you watch as Alhaitham rises from his seat and moves Kaveh’s long hair aside to brush his lips along the exposed skin of his nape.

“If holding it all in is causing you so much distress,” Alhaitham plants a kiss on Kaveh’s neck, “Perhaps giving in is the answer.”

“...No, I can’t,” Kaveh weeps, yet there’s a hesitation in his voice, as if he’s not fully convinced that he should turn away from the pleasure that you two can bring him.

“No one has to know,” your hands cup the sides of his face and move him so that you can look into his eyes, the sincerity behind them startling him when you say, “We want you, Kaveh.”

The world seems to stop when you say those words, his heart soaring and in the split second, his resistance slips away. He abandons it all for you, for a longing reciprocated, for a tangible love, and he presses his lips onto yours.

He whines into the kiss when you take charge, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip and he gasps. When you enter his mouth, your saliva mixing with his, his breath hitches as his desire suddenly heightens tenfold. You can feel him getting hard in your lap, ever so slightly grinding down without even realising it.

“Will you let us take you apart? Allow us to worship and love you like you deserve? To open your eyes to the true salvation of human pleasure?”

Kaveh’s drowning in your words, the blessing that the two of you are gracing him with, leaving him bare and naked in his longing.

“Please.”

Soon, you have the blond seated on the edge of his bed and stripped of all his clothing, except for his white clerical collar, which still lays clasped loosely around his neck.

“Look at you Father Kaveh, perhaps mankind was indeed made in God’s image,” you watch on from above him as Alhaitham laves a tongue over Kaveh’s clavicle, “If not, how else would you look so divine?”

He flushes crimson at your praise, bashful at how unaffected you are in this scenario. You move and sit next to him on the bed, unzipping your pants as he watches on with bated breath.

“From your mouth to God’s ear, Father Kaveh, your fantasies have been heard and they’ll be fulfilled today.”

Like him, you’re already hard, precum beading at your tip. Your hand goes to grab his, bringing it over and wrapping it around your shaft. Covering his hand with yours, you entertain his desires, cooing as you slowly start to move his hand, pumping your cock at a steady pace while you savour the sensation of his hand.

Kaveh’s eyes are glued to the sight of you guiding his hand up and down on your length, the warmth of your hand over his own. He’s enraptured until he feels fingers under his chin, tilting his head up and suddenly he’s locking lips with Alhaitham. When he realises that the two of you are actually recreating the scene from his imagination, his mind is left reeling.

He moans into the kiss with Alhaitham when he feels you throb in his hand, more pre dribbling from your tip.

“You’re so good, Father Kaveh, always so kind, so understanding, hmm?” Your praise gets him so worked up, his hips uselessly rutting up against nothing but something settles onto his lap and presses against his own cock. Cracking his eyes open, he realises that Alhaitham has slotted himself into his space, and breaking away from the kiss so that Kaveh can breathe, he frots his erect hard-on against Kaveh’s.

“Maybe this way I’ll keep your attention on me too,” the grey haired male says, hands going to rest at Kaveh’s hip to steady himself as he ruts.

He can feel his legs shaking as that daunting pressure starts to build inside of him again like before. The pacing of his strokes under your hand begins to falter as he chases after his high, grinding more and more frantically against the man in his lap.

But just as he’s seconds away from reaching his orgasm, Alhaitham clambers out of Kaveh’s space, at the same time, you remove his hand from your body

The sudden detachment brings him back down from his almost peak, his mind clearing up just enough for him to whine out, “Wh- What was that for?”

“We’re saving the best for last, Father Kaveh,” you say as the two of you manhandle his pliant body into position.

Alhaitham’s beneath him, hands gripping the headboard as he lays on his back, facing upwards. Alternatively, Kaveh’s on all fours on the bed, hands and knees on either side of Alhaitham with you standing at the foot of his bed, hands firmly gripping onto his hips.

“Are you ready to take us into your heart, to accept us for all that we are,” and you all but purr his name, “Kaveh?”

“Yes. Yes, please,” he begs, desperation akin to a sinner’s prayer.

“Such a lovely obedient lamb, truly the best one in the flock. I’d say you should finally get a reward for such excellent behaviour,” He gulps at your words, the praise you’re showering him in muddling his thoughts as he anticipates whatever the two of you have planned for him.

Goosebumps rise on his skin when you trace a blunt nail up his spine. However, the breath is punched from his chest when he looks back down at Alhaitham, pointed horns crowning his head, emerging from his mop of grey hair. His head snaps to look at you over his shoulder where he sees a similar sight. Coiled horns like a ram’s adorn you, leathery unfurled wings, and a long slender tail that’s tipped with a heart at the end.

“My dearest lamb, I ask you once more. Do you take us into your being, to love us for what we are,” your voice takes on a sultry tone, dripping with sinful indulgence, “To let us defile you?”

His head bowed, he dutifully replies, “I offer all of myself up to you.”

And with this, you partake in the feast of him.

Coating your fingers in your thick aphrodisiacal spit, you rest one hand on his ass, spreading him apart as you prod at his rim.

“Relax for me, Father Kaveh, you’re in good hands and we’ll never lead you astray.” You hear him release the breath he’s holding and he untenses, allowing you to slip a finger into him.

“Ah-!” The sensation is unfamiliar but not unwelcome, the stretch gradually turning into a growing pleasure thanks to its aphrodisiac qualities, slowly getting used to the feeling of being filled as you prepare him to take you.

A finger loops through his clerical collar and pulls him down. Looks like Alhaitham’s had enough of being ignored. He kisses him like a man starved, teeth clacking noisily as he drinks in Kaveh’s moans.

Taking this opportunity to slip in another finger, your other hand goes to grip his waist, steadying him as he loses himself to the mounting delectation. Scissoring your fingers, it proves to be too much for the inexperienced Kaveh and his legs give out from beneath him, pressing him against Alhaitham’s body.

“Haitham, did you prep yourself beforehand?” He nods briskly at your question. Lowering yourself down so you’re bearing down on Kaveh, you lick the shell of his ear, (he shivers), and ask.

“Do you think Haitham can take you? He’s been waiting for you for so long, he’s even prepared himself for you.”

Between dazed blinks, Kaveh manages to process your words, nodding his head and muttering out a dumb, “Uh- Uh huh.”

With this, Alhaitham lines his hole up with Kaveh’s drooling cock, and with you pushing down on his hips from above him, Kaveh’s head pushes past Alhaitham rim, a guttural growl leaving your junior’s lips at the sensation of Kaveh sinking into him with your guidance.

“M-Move please…!” Alhaitham groans out when Kaveh doesn’t seem to do anything when he bottoms out inside of him. The lewd heat that surrounds his length overloads his mind, bliss coursing through every vein in his body.

The erotic sight of your two sweethearts under you, the one who’s supposed to be the incubus pleading for sweet salvation from the once-pure, clueless lamb laying above him who’s finally had a taste of the forbidden fruit. Both of them dewy-eyed and left greedily wanting more. It’s easily all too tempting.

You remove your fingers from Kaveh with a wet shlick! before replacing it with your tip at his entrance. As you push into him, the pressure causes him to reach deeper into Alhaitham, resulting in a lascivious harmony of wanton moans in the room.

And when your tip brushes past his prostate for the first time, he can’t help but mewl, “O-Oh God!”

“Rude to call out someone else’s name when- ugh! -you have two incubi pleasuring you right here, Father Kaveh!” Punctuating this with a sharp thrust, you wring a drawn-out cry from Kaveh.

“S-Sorry! For- hng!! -forgive me!” Pitifully sobbing out, he rocks his hips clumsily back against yours, urging you to fully sheathe yourself in him. With his motions, Alhaitham finally gets the stimulation he’s yearned for, as Kaveh moves in time with your thrusts.

Your tail wraps itself around Kaveh’s thigh when you encircle your hands around his slim waist.

“I’ll fuck you so good that you’ll be worshipping me when I’m done with you.”

Pulling out until just your tip is left in him, you position your mouth at his shoulder and when you bite down on his pristine untainted skin, it’s the only warning he gets before you sink your length back into him, all the way down to the hilt.

You’ve left your mark on him, marred him, sullied him, defiled him for all of eternity in the eyes of the church. But Kaveh can’t find it in himself to care, too fucked out from the carnal pleasures he’s wrapped up in right now. The way you pound into him, the way Haitham’s walls squeeze down on him. Who is he to say that this isn’t heaven on earth? Who is he to say that this is damnation?

Perhaps he’s found his God in you.

“Hah! God, please! I’m close- ah! -so so close!” He’s delirious and Alhaitham swears he can almost see the hearts in Kaveh’s eyes.

“Calling me your god now, Father Kaveh?”

“Yesss! Please, I’m s-so close, let me- hng! -finish, God, I beg of you!” Kaveh quivers under you as both him and Alhaitham approach their climax. Their breaths come out in ragged pants as you speed up your pace, also chasing your own peak.

“Then take all I give unto you, Kaveh,” you bury yourself as deep as possible as his walls clamp down on you, his head thrown back in ecstasy as the three of you cum together. The searing rapture rips through him as you fill him up, eyes wrenched shut with him seeing stars behind his eyelids. His lower abdomen feels hot as he cums into Alhaitham, whose eyes have rolled back into his sockets, breath hitching at his orgasm.

You complete it with short shallow thrusts, helping the both of them through the fading waves of pleasure, wringing out the last of their debauched noises. When you pull out of Kaveh, a raspy whine rips from him. Manoeuvring his spent body to lie on his back, you’re pleased to see that the session took, evident from the glowing fuchsia tattoo on his lower abdomen.

Pressing a kiss against it, Kaveh shakes at the increased stimulation. Curious, he peers down at it, ghosting his fingers over it as he watches the tattoo’s glow intensity slowly fade and settle into a faint pink outline.

“The three of us have been unified, we’re bound together now, my dearest lamb.”

Alhaitham lazily rolls over to leave a kiss on Kaveh’s cheek before you pull him in by his clerical collar for a chaste kiss on the edge of his lips.

And suddenly, his Sunday mornings don’t seem so dull anymore.

[> You add a clerical collar to your collection.]

Thank you kindly for reading. Consider supporting on kofi if you enjoyed this or visit the other doors.

#📜.Shapeshifting Hallways #📜.qi writings #📜.qi musings #genshin x reader #genshin smut #sub genshin #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #sub kaveh #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham smut #sub alhaitham #dom reader #top reader #kinktober #incubus smut

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honestsycrets · 9 months

Text

querido i: a reward of 2099 | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | doubleshot; chapter is safe for work.

❛ summary | it's been a long time since you've been with miguel o'hara. when your daughter gabriella finds his wanted poster, life starts to unravel.

❛ tags | mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, spanish not translated, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats.

❛ sy's notes | here's to listening to the civil wars' devil backbone one too many times. i needed a break from filling most requests, so i only incorporated one very lightly in this piece.

“Mamá, 2099 is a strange amount for a reward, isn’t it?”

Your daughter was a mischievous girl just like her father. She tore down the poster that was tacked up on the homely post office’s bulletin board as you gathered the weekly post. Coming into town was always a bit of a laborious task. With goods to gather and a little girl to socialize, you made it into town once every week.

"Sure is," Jackson the postman said.

“Thank you,” you plucked mail from the man’s dark hands. “I’ll see you next week.”

He wore a warm, kind smile. Working in the post office, he always seemed to be well-versed in what was going on in everyone’s life. His coal-black eyes shone warmly at you.

“Take care now, there’s wild men out there. What with Peter gone and all, you sure you girls will be okay out there? Rio’d sure put up Gabi and you at the hostel.”

Gabi scrunched up her face tight like a screw being twisted into a board.

“That’s real sweet of you to worry but I’m sure we’ll be fine. We've been out there nine years now. I’ll see you next week, sí? ” You tucked your post into a basket that dangled on your elbow, pulling long and heavy skirts to avoid trampling them with your boots as you opened the door.

“See ya then!”

Gabriella stepped out first, pulling on your lace sleeves as a cue for her delayed answer. She wouldn’t butt into a conversation, but she always seemed to hold her questions for a better time. You sighed, looking at the pale wooden buildings. Saloon, feed store, bank, and the occasional hostel. Over the last decade, the town seemed to flourish, bringing all manner of people to your once tiny Spanish town.

“I suppose they didn’t wanna give the extra coin out, Gabi.”

She looked back to the paper in her hands.

“Wanted dead or alive. Notorious badman Miguel O’Hara, 38, native of Nueva… why that’s here, mama!”

Your blood chilled. Congealed even. The sun nearly blinded you, even with the hat that kept the hot sun off of your head. You stepped off the doorway and onto the dusty ground, spinning on your heel to face your little girl with your dark blue fan in your hands, waving the heat of the day off your flushed skin.

“Wanted for--”

You swiped the paper from her fingers.

“That’s about enough of that. We best get on our way, we got goods to buy, the undertaker to see, and a new dress to fit for your papá’s funeral.”

“I was just reading it. In case we see him?”

“We won’t. It’s been a time since he’s shown himself around these parts. You have no business looking at-- that kinda man. He’s a troublemaker. Now get in the cart, let’s not dolly around.”

You would know.

“O—okay, mamá.”

“I’m sorry, Gabi, I don't mean to yell. You’re all I got, preciosa,” you wedged the paper into a new bible, right next to your wooden rosary, and flung it into the basket.

"I know."

You started ahead of her, fussing with your white veil, sparing no expense to the many questions that she had that day. You had just as many questions as she did.

You just couldn’t articulate them to a grieving little girl.

Do you think it's a boy or girl? the seamstress asks a woman in her shop. She fashions all sorts of fashions from birth to death. Her store is stuffed to the brim with frilly and lacy baptismal dresses. Your gaze fell on her belly, tracing the curve.

"Una niña," she says. Her voice triggers something old, some ancient memory you've suppressed. His voice in your ear, a soft kiss on your head. You're sitting there, next to the little girl that he always wanted, haunted by the flood of memories that comes with looking at another woman's pregnant belly.

"You're not like the others. Aren't men supposed to want sons?" you teased him. Miguel snorted, his arm underneath your neck as he gazed up at a sky of glittering stars. The air was lightly warm, a light wind fluttering through the tall grass. Post-relation bliss was warm on his skin, peaceful and quiet.

"For what? Men are jealous of sons," he muttered, shifting his head to kiss the top of your head. "Little girls are... the light in their lives. I'm going to call mine Gabriella. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That's a real pretty name."

"Sure is. ¿por qué?"

You didn't tell him why. That you hid a secret underneath the layers of your dress. A secret that you knew Miguel would have more than an issue with if he knew.

"Mamá?" Gabi shakes your arm, "Mamá we're next."

Your mind likes to pull mean tricks on you.

Wanted for double murder.

Miguel O’Hara was always somewhere between a hangman’s knot and three mouths to feed. For you, the latter. You were under no illusion of the sort of man Miguel was.

Every look at your daughter’s soft, peaceful face at night reminded you of him. You worried that the more she looked at posters of Miguel, peered into an artist’s rendition of Miguel’s slight, sultry eyes, lush lips, and strong jaw-- she might be able to locate the similarities when she looked at herself. That was why you had to take the flyer from her. The artist sure had a fine hand at drawing him, the man who danced in your dreams by a warm fire and stayed up late counting the stars. He’s gotten thicker, you thought. You sat on the rocking chair as she slept peacefully, rocking back and forth on the chair.

A violent knocking at the front door swept you free from your thoughts. You snatched up the silver lantern, yanked a fine ivory rebozo over your shoulders, and rushed down the stairs. The booming knocking became louder, more urgent. The movement was mechanical, with no husband to answer the door for you, you checked the window first. The man who stood there was not a man you’d want to see. Not now, not back then. He had a wicked face that sat beneath a wide-brimmed hat that obscured the balding spot on top of his head.

God, not him. He was obsessed.

“Buenas noches, Doña O’Hara,” he peeped into the window.

“Bendito, don’t call me that,” you rushed out, the heavy wooden door slamming to a close behind you. “I’ve told you already, he is not here.”

“And I don’t believe you. First, your man-loving husband dies. Next, sightings of Miguel a town over. ¿Qué piensas? Hm? What comes after that?”

“My husband was trampled, Aaron. By a bull. He was a hard-working man who worked with violent cattle. These accidents happen. Why don’t you ask the undertaker?”

He wouldn’t. Although you don’t think Aaron is a complete idiot, he surely has his own motivations for which leads to follow and which leads to ignore. Your husband’s death was one of them.

“I’ll tell you what comes next. You come next. It’s only logical that he would come back to you. You have his daughter and all. Or… does he not know about that? I seem to recall him running out of here like a bat outta hell.”

“You’ve checked my property three times. Barn, basement, home. It’s been nine years, Aaron. Gloria a Dios, he’s probably remarried and forgotten me by now.”

“Not according to my reports.”

You hate the twinge of delight that comes from that admission. Your cheeks warm with blood, highlighting the rouge that sits across your cheeks. He chuckles caustically at how easily it shuts you up. Aaron takes a step forward, his deep leather boots creaking along the aged floorboards.

“What’d you want me to do with that information?”

“If he comes to see you, and I know he will,” he reached out for your chin. Your hand connects with his, shoving him back. “Tell me. You know, it’s a crime to kill another man without good cause.”

“You wanna catch Miguel for your own reasons, Aaron. Don’t bring none of that holier-than-thou bullshit to my footstep.”

“She can curse,” he laughs again. “Here I thought you were a good Christian woman.”

“Don’t try me,” He tries to corral you against the door. You flip your skirts up, his eyes following the motion. You seize the handgun strapped to your thigh, threatening to pull it on him. Aaron slides back, holding his calloused hands up. "Get off my property."

“I’m just saying. If you see him, you know where to find me. Who knows, you and I could work a lil something out.”

Even if you knew where he was, you would be hard-pressed to turn him into Aaron Delgado. You knew Miguel O’Hara would kill him. So, really, it was for his good. You watched him beat down the squeaky steps and mount his horse, fading into the distance of dark, twinkly stars. You probably shouldn’t be praying that robbers got ahold of him.

But only Diosito could judge you for that.

You dipped down to pick the lantern up, stepping off the steps to ensure that he was not just off your property, but properly gone. Then, seeing him set off toward town, you gazed up at the deep night sky. It was littered with an abundance of stars, massive and twinkling brilliantly. Miguel’s favorite constellations shone brightly in the sky. The Anglo called it-- Orion’s belt. Around here, it was named for the hunter: the deer, the pronghorn, and the sheep. You count each of the stars on your way back indoors to sleep in your empty bed.

You prayed Aaron’s hunt would be fruitless that night.

With your husband's untimely death came several complex decisions. Namely, what to do with his cattle hands and the animals under your care. You were fortunate enough to have support from the community in caring for the cattle, but you knew human affection did not last forever. You could sell his property at a scam of a price as a woman or you could keep it and work bitterly on the farm.

Or, as Aaron suggested today in the cover of concern, you could remarry yet again. It was nearly the only good option. Working wasn’t sustainable when you had a little girl to raise and a whole host of children to teach, as you always had. It would be nearly impossible to find someone like your dearly departed husband who knew your situation and couldn’t care less about it.

It’s good for a lil girl to have a father, he says. You know that-- but Aaron should be no one’s father. Not Gabriella’s. Miguel would’ve never approved. Neither did you.

You loosened beads of sweat from your hair as you returned inside, the ends of your skirt matted with dust. Gabriella would return home from school soon and you were fully intent on feeding her a slice of fresh peach pie.

You made your way into your home, your boots between your fingers. The smell of a smoky hearth piqued your attention. It didn’t arise from your great big wood stove that sat against the wall, ready to cook fresh tortillas, but the sort of hearth settled in the deep outdoors.

“Dios mío.”

Miguel sat there, plain as a field flower. His fingers tapped over the heavy wooden table, rolling in succession. He’s older than you remember-- jaw peppered with dark facial hair, his hair dark and wild, set away from his kind eyes that caught yours as quickly as you caught his. You dropped your boots at your feet, backing up once, twice.

“Don’t run, you won't get far,” his voice trilled, low and warm. Beside his sombrero on the table sat a thick rope and his gun, you don’t want to know which one he was planning to use today. His head twisted, a mused smile growing on his face. “You look so surprised, amor. You had to know I was coming.”

The nickname cut more than it used to. You had not been someone’s amor in a very long time. Married strictly by the weight of paper, you don’t exactly recall what the fleeting emotion of love felt like. Wisps of it licked a dead flame to life in your stomach.

“Miguel.”

“You look gorgeous,” Miguel hummed, turning his impossibly broad arms one over the other. You don’t remember him being this thick. He lurches onto his leather boots, taking a few practiced steps closer. Brilliant, you think, you’ve languished years thinking of this moment just to smell of sweat and cow shit. You suppose he’s smelled worse as an outlaw, a name that doesn’t quite fit the handsome man before you.

“You were always a bad liar.”

“Look, not smell.”

“My point stands,” you say.

Your normally practiced updo has gone frizzy, bits of hair escaping the clips that kept it flat against your head. Miguel’s eyes flickered over the strands, then down to your skin flush with blood and exhaustion.

“Mine too.”

You stared at him a moment longer before you found yourself laughing, just a light-- a small thing that you had failed to do over the past week. His death, and the subsequent funeral, was all too miserable. Now he was here and for a moment, just a brief thing, everything didn’t feel so earth-shatteringly dire.

He cracks a smile, drawing his hand to your flyaways, soothing it down against your head. You should be more angry at him-- settling you with a baby like he did and disappearing into the long grass with Widow and not a word more.

“I missed you,” you said quietly. His hand falls away from your head, drifting past his dark blue vest, and hooking at the fat metal belt buckle. “Pero… why are you here?”

“I heard Peter passed,” he said in a practiced tone. “I was a few towns over. Seeing how he’s taken good care of you all these years, I dropped in to say my dues to him. Came to see my girl too.”

The grief may not be readable in his eyes, but you know he’s practiced it in the same way you did for your Gabriella. Her only daddy was gone, deep in the cold earth. His words echoed in your ears, cutting through your grief bright and resonant. You wonder if he knew, but logically, you knew he couldn’t. Miguel always wanted to be a father.

“Who’d that be?”

“You,” Miguel turns your name over, making your name sound beautiful and light on his tongue. It’s sweet, like the peach pie cooling in your aged windows.

“After all these years?"

"Claro."

"You... shouldn't be here. You’re a wanted man,” you said. “Aaron is looking for you. You know that, right?”

“He's nothing to be concerned about.” Miguel shrugged off your suggestion. "I'm only wanted in these parts."

“Where else is there?” you said

“Out West. South. You take your pick,” Miguel lifted his hand, tracing your parched lower lip. “It don't matter to me. I seen all manner of places, like it here more than anywhere.”

"There's nothing here."

"Nothing but you."

You felt your stomach swoop, a delight filling it better than any meal you’d had. You parted your lips to say something else, to find a response that would fit-- to tell him the truth. But he left you then, came back when something fit better than the road. You wonder what fortune he must have made on the road that he’d come back. His hand caressed your cheek, rubbing it as if to soothe you. It didn’t.

“You think you can just go and come back like nothing happened? After what you did?”

The front door squeaked, dragging with a long hiss. Miguel peered over your shoulder as if it were instinctual, his hand snapping to the gun on his hip. You stopped him short of seizing his handgun. Gabriella bobbed in, closing the door tightly shut behind her. She wore a plain blue dress, fine ribbon braided in the updo she had on that day. She takes a few short steps forward before realizing who you were talking to.

“Mamá, I’m home!” she gasped. “That’s the man in the— in the flyer mamá--”

“Gabi go to your room.”

“I’m not--”

“Gabriella,” your voice went soft but stern. Nearly apologetic. You had been so hard on her lately. Miguel’s eyes dropped from Gabriella’s huge, doe-like eyes to her nose, then lips. His eyes sharpened, whipping back to look at you. “Por mí, okay? He won’t hurt me. Te prometo.”

She darted up the many steps to her room.

"Gabriella?" He stared at you uncomprehendingly. He quickly goes quiet, searching your eyes for something. You worry that he’s found the truth, your breath light as you walked over to your wooden stove, checking the flame and setting a pot of water that you brought from a nearby creek to bathe with. He follows you to the stove.

“My daughter is home. You should go,” you remarked, less of a command than a meek statement, floundering on your lips at the end. As delightful as it sounded, running off into some other territory, town, or world with Miguel-- it was unfeasible and irresponsible to be with a man whose name was stapled on the bulletin boards towns over.

“How old is she?”

"That's none of your business." Your outlaw hovers over you, absorbing the space, a bundle of heavy muscle and rage that plumes off his skin like the smell of sweat on your skin. It’s almost as if he can smell the regret seeping off your skin, despite knowing you couldn’t have done anything differently. No one told him and you could not reach him. Whatever the reason he stayed away, you were not the one he reached out to for updates.

“Tell me,” he growls, waves of anger causing his voice to shake. The tone is heartless, empty of the nights together, of slipping off with the old cattle hand at night and day, in the barn and the field. You’re stuck in the memory of your lovemaking with your vaquero, now your outlaw man. You missed him.

“Don’t do this. She could be listening.” You pad away from the stove to the window with the hope that he wouldn’t follow. He backs you up into the wall, his calloused hands so tight on his belt that you could draw lines of tension through his veins.

“You're not telling me because she’s mine,” he’s whispering, the words going through your chest, fizzling out into terrible pain. He reaches out, squeezing your hips to keep you put. Miguel leans into your space and buries you in his overwhelming scent.

“What do you want me to say?” you stare at his prominent muscles, the shift that is thrown open to expose his skin. He cups your jaw and throat with his large hand, forcing you to confront the truth. Your eyes blink closed, bits of tears dripping there. Miguel doesn’t have the patience for pity, or empathy, whichever the two you were looking for right then.

“I want you to tell me the truth. It's not hard.”

“Me telling you the truth changes a whole lot of nothing. You're putting her life at risk just being here. You're an outlaw,” you say, trying his rapidly evaporating patience. "You got a bounty on your head."

"It changes it all," he shoves you back into the window, a choked cry slipping from your throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to have the truth. Distantly, you were aware of Gabriella’s feet beating down the steps. You’re relatively certain she’d never gone all the way up to her room. In this creaky house you would have heard her door shut, the floorboards bounce. In either case, there’s no point running away from what you both know to be true.

“Sí, she’s your daughter,” you mustered the words in a bid to get it over with. Miguel always had to get his way. “Now what?”

Miguel flicked a look over his shoulder, marked by the heavy drag of his weighted firearm skidding across the wooden table. A life on the run will do that. Gabriella’s tiny hands slipped around his handgun.

“That ain't true!”

“Gabriella,” you cut her short. “Gabi, bebe, put that down.”

Miguel took a step back, pulling his head back slightly as you shifted in front of him. Her tiny head shook, over and over, tears pricking her bright brown eyes. You fooled yourself into thinking that she wouldn’t listen-- because your Gabi was a good girl. A wonderful good girl who liked nothing more but running in the field with the boys and brightly colored ribbons laced into her braids. She was also a mischievous girl who had been trying really, really hard to be good for you this week. Children had their limits.

“My papá is dead,” she said, her fingers trembling about the thing. Miguel’s head tilted in response, expecting you to take care of it. “His name was Peter and-- he liked sunsets and fluffy chocolate calves and--”

“Badly made blankets,” Miguel said lowly. Gabi lowered the gun, slowly, just an inch or two. “Shorn fabrics, uneven stitching, ugly colors.”

“He liked to make you smile-- be helpful,” he added. You snapped to look at Miguel as he rose his hand to his hips, gazing at the floor and rocking. He waits another moment, noting how Gabriella’s head nodded, rubbing away the tears that dripped off the corner of her eyes with her shoulder. She set the gun down on the table.

“You knew my papá?” she turns her arms one over another. “How?”

“He was my friend.”

“Mamá?” she looked toward you, seeking an answer from someone who wasn’t a face on a wanted paper with a reward of 2099 dollars.

“Peter was your papá but-- Miguel is your padre, mija,” you breathed hard, exhausted from years of suppression. She looks at you, not used to this level of betrayal. Her eyes are distant, somewhere in her tiny memories. She whips around and runs out the back door. Miguel turns his eye out the window, her tiny body disappearing into the deep green fields. The sun blinds your eyes as you look out to the fields full of cattle. He reaches for his rope and gun, settling them in their respective places.

“¡Déjala! She needs time alone.”

He heads out the backdoor. He never did listen well.

#miguel o'hara oneshot #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara oneshot #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara/reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #spider 2099 x reader #spiderman imagine #spiderman imagines #atsv miguel imagine #atsv imagine #atsv x you #atsv imagines #atsv x reader #atsv fanfiction

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ageingfangirl2 · 4 months

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Join My Crew! Luffy (OPLA)

You help a little girl steal a pocketwatch back from a marine, Luffy approaches and asks you to join his crew. You refuse. The next day you find yourself wanted by the marines and reconsider Luffy's offer. Luffy x Reader (F)

'Someone help me!' a young girl calls out, distress in her voice.

You look up from the fruit you were admiring at the local stall, just in time to watch a smug marine stare down at the little girl swinging a pocket watch by its chain.

'Give me Daddy's watch back! You can't take it!' the girl demands and stomps her feet.

The marine throws his head back and laughs mockingly, 'Run along little girl, you probably stole this, tears won't help you.'

You clench your fist as the marine shoves the little girl to the ground roughly. The girl bursts into tears. No one around dared to do anything, not wanting the wrath of the Marines, but that's not what you were about. You might be a thief but you had a heart, because you'd been that little girl who'd had a family necklace taken from you, that you stole back and started your life of crime.

'I hate the Marines!' a boy next to you states, you'd not seen him on the island before, but he stood out wearing a red vest and a straw hat.

You pay him no attention as you set off after the marine. This would be a simple pickpocket job, you just had to stroke an ego to get away with your crime.

You pull your blouse a little lower revealing a bit more chest than you were comfortable with, and roll your eyes before fake tripping into the marine.

'Oh no,' you gasp loudly, stumbling over nothing.

The marine catches you around the waist, and it's not lost on you when his eyes linger on your chest, but you use the distraction to snatch the pocketwatch out of his back pocket.

'Careful there beautiful,' the marine swoons, and helps you back to your feet.

You bat your eyelashes, 'Thank you, I'm such a klutz. The island needs more strong marines like you watching over us.'

The marine blushes, 'No problem, you keep safe now.'

You part ways quickly and approach the little girl who'd been helped up by the boy in the hat and a girl with short red hair, 'here you go little lady, keep a better eye on this.'

You drop the watch in her open hand and smile before ruffling her hair.

The girl stares up at you with wide eyes full of admiration, 'Thank you miss, I promise to look after daddy's watch.'

Not wanting to stay in the open any longer you go to walk away, but not before someone grabs your arm, and you stare blankly at the boy in the hat.

'Join my crew!' he says loudly, 'you can never have too many thieves.'

You shake your head and shrug him off not liking the attention, 'No thanks.'

He pouts, and you note determination behind his eyes, but you take your leave to head home for the day to try and keep a low profile.

NEXT DAY

You walk down the street feeling like hitting up the weekly market, when you walk past the bulletin board and freeze. On the board was a brand new wanted poster with your name and face with the caption 'THIEF AND ASSOCIATING WITH THE STRAW HAT PIRATE CREW'

'Shit! What am I going to do now? I'm a wanted person,' you curse, and rip the poster off the board.

'Oh? Congratulations. Join my crew,' a familiar overly excited male voice says next to you.

You jump at his sudden appearance, 'Excuse me.'

He grins, 'Join my crew, sail the seas, go on adventures, I could use someone with your set of skills.'

You gulp, noticing some marines in the distance, 'err I don't even know your name kid.'

'Luffy...now what do you say?' he replies.

You grab him and start dragging him back towards your house to grab what little belongings and weapons you have, 'fine... let's go...I hope I don't regret this...'

You were already a criminal so why not add pirate into the mix? This was going to be a wild ride.

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inceptiversary · 10 months

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Weekly Bulletin: July 9 - July 15

ONGOING

@inception30daychallenge - view prompt list here!

@inceptionart blog reblogging and highlighting fanart

Inception Blorbos Bracket - vote in the latest round here!

@inceptionkitties 30 days of inception kitties; visit blog for prompts

@inceptionpositivity submissions open

THIS WEEK

Sunday, July 9

@inceptionwatchparty - Juno, 8PM EDT / 12 AM GMT

Tuesday, July 11

@aeldws drabbles due, voting opens

Thursday, July 13

@aeldws voting closes, 7PM EDT

Friday, July 14

@aeldws prompt posted, 1AM EDT

@inceptionwatchparty - Knives Out, 8PM EDT / 12 AM GMT

Saturday, July 15

@inceptionwatchparty - The Prestige, 8PM EDT / 12 AM GMT

#inceptiversary2023 #inceptiversary #inception #weekly bulletin #bulletin

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whiskeyapologist · 4 months

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was looking through my camera roll & realized i never posted about this?? but i did a check please theme in my bullet journal back in april & i am still beyond obsessed with how it turned out!

task list & cover page

april was all about finishing my fucking thesis (i earned my mfa in stage automation in may) & i used the task list to break down each section of my thesis & make it less intimidating. i still pulled a bitty & had to marathon write most of my thesis within a like 36 hour period. i slept so good once that draft was finished!

when i started planning this theme, i flipped through the comic & decided pretty quickly i wanted the cover to be this view of faber from 4.25 "faber". i filled the outside with some of my favorite details from throughout the comic, including (clockwise from top left) the "text from chowder: i'm shouting!" from 4.2 "nonstop celly", jack's "oh" moment from 2.17 "graduation", the jack lego (?) figure from 3.1 "wag", dex & nursey's background roach & house bubbles & (i think it's) ransom's "et tu lardo?" bubble from 2.12 "post i: roadie", one of my fave senor bun appearances that didn't make it into a weekly from 1.16 "linemates", & bitty's phone (i don't think there's a specific appearance of bitty's phone that looks like this, at least not that i'm finding in the flip-throughs i've done to write this post. i think i did a lil freehand moment with it, but if anyone happens to find it in the comic, let me know!), as well as my usual little calendar & monthly focuses section

monthly calendar & habit tracker

the monthly calendar & playlist is inspired by the smh team roster hanging on the bulletin board in the haus at the beginning of year 2

the habit tracker features a few other details from 2.1 “moved in”, namely the “haus sweet haus” rug & the sock pinned to the bulletin board. the shopping list bubble is a callback to the “jizz!” speech bubble also pinned to the bulletin board next to the sock

meal & time trackers

the breakfast, lunch, & dinner headers are a callback to the hockey puck taped to the bulletin board

not much to add here, but it’s a great time to mention the “it’s tough but you’re tougher” speech bubble from 4.20 “spotlight on eric bittle” which was the quote i used to decorate my grad cap ❤️

weekly #1 is modeled after y1 & features my favorite y1 senor bun appearance (1.18 “playoffs - i”) & line (1.8 “checking clinic”)

weekly #2 is modeled after y2 & features my favorite y2 senor bun (2.10 "shinny") & line (2.4 "hazeapalooza")

weekly #3 is modeled after y3 & features my favorite y3 senor bun (3.3 "meet the falconers") & line (3.26 "cup v - post")

weekly #4 is modeled after y4 (the layout of the top panel specifically is modeled after the first panel of 4.16 "christmas in madison - iii" which shows a bunch of the christmas pics/posts from the rest of smh & tater) & features my favorite y4 senor bun (4.17 "senior thesis") & line (also 4.17 "senior thesis"). i has some extra space, so i included some excerpts from bitty's y4 tweets

camp nanowrimo tracker, before the pen. the left is just a table for tracking time spent on & words written for my thesis & the novel i've been working on forever. my camp nanowrimo goal was to write 1 hour every weekend day & 2 hours every week day, for a grand total of 50 hours, which i am proud to say i achieved! the right is a visual tracker, where each pie was equal to an hour of writing. i included 50 pies for my 50 hour goal. the bubble near the top is from 1.4 "the haus" with 2 footnotes i added; one on "kitchens" that says "word docs", & one on "pies" that says "words". clearly i think i'm very clever lol

visual tracker, filled in. i surpassed my 50 hour goal with about a week left in the month, & i wanted to include that additional progress on my tracker. once the month was done & i knew how much i needed to add, i made a tip-in (although this might just be a fold-out lol) to tape in. on one side, i included the dialogue bubbles from a panel of 3.19 "keagster"

on the other side of the tip-in/flip-out, i included jam jars for the additional 10.25 hours of writing i did, plus "it's gonna be two trips" also from 3.19 "keagster"

& that's all the spreads! spreads were done in an archer & olive b5 notebook. supplies include: mildliners in the colors vermillion, dark blue, beige, & gray; a black papermate flair, a white gellyroll pen in size 08, and stabilo pens in gray and brown. oh, & a piece of masking tape, bc i couldn't find any clear tape lol

#omgcp #bullet journal #i did so many good themes in my b5 journal but i'm pretty sure this one's my favorite

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spectorcomplex · 2 years

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—WE NEED MUSIC! e.munson x reader

you’re more madonna, blondie, and bowie and eddie munson has to find common ground to save your life

pairing: eddie munsox x fem!reader (she/her pronouns)

warnings: swearing, descriptions of blood, cuts, wounds, drowning.

word count: 3.7k

my masterlist

Nancy Wheeler has it all. The beauty, brains, and ferocity. But unbeknownst to the majority of Hawkins, what she lacked was a friend. You two have shared classes before, exchanged kind smiles in the halls, and even engaged in small talk whenever the opportunity presented itself. But the two of you never truly got to know each other— until Senior Year.

The summer air still lingered as it slowly intertwined itself with the fall cold when you saw the announcement on the classroom bulletin board. It was the first day of your senior year and you were already having post-graduation anxieties. Should you have participated more? To prepare yourself for college interactions? Or to be more knowledgeable and worldly—

“Miss Y/L/N.” The teacher’s stern voice broke you out of your stupor. You quickly hung your head as a weak form of an apology but your eyes discretely lingered on the paper pinned to the board.

Shortly after that, you pushed all inhibitions aside, dug out the converse shoebox containing wrinkled papers, and submitted a small compilation of the short stories you’ve written over the past few years to The Weekly Streak.

You had gotten more than you bargained for. The editor-in-chief of the school newspaper, Nancy Wheeler herself, excused you from Calculus class to gush about how the news staff loved your writings. The Weekly Streak was only looking for contributors but Nancy convinced them to give you a full-time spot.

If you want it, of course.

Of course, I want it, Nancy. If it means getting pulled out of Calculus more then yeah.

She laughed, you laughed, and the rest was history.

—+—

You really wished your history going forth with Nancy consisted more of laughing and gossiping while painting your nails and not getting your skin ripped apart by interdimensional-tentacle-vampire hybrid bats.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” You groaned as more of the creatures tried to tear into your flesh. “We’re gonna die, we’re gonna die!”

“Don’t be so pessimistic, angel eyes!”

If Eddie Munson wasn’t helping you to survive by smacking an oar around you would’ve wrung his neck at the nickname. You seriously regret wearing that ABBA shirt when the group dropped off food for him at that cabin by Lover’s Lake.

The screeches stopped and all that was left was an eerie static in the air and Steve Harrington softly crying out in pain.

Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d end up in an alternate dimension of your hometown with probably the most random combination of people. “The Freak” and “The King” and you three girls.

It was scary how quickly you were accepting that this entire predicament you found yourself in was real. Nancy never held back when opening up to you, her relationship with Steve, with Jonathan, her brother, the misogynist pricks at The Hawkins Post and she definitely did not sugarcoat all the crazy events surrounding Will Byers’ disappearance. All she avoided was talking about Barbara but you respect her boundaries.

It’s okay if you think I’m crazy. I’d think the same if we switched roles.

Honestly, Nance, it sounds like the plot of those science fiction movies and you’d kill it as a scriptwriter.

Well, you better start thinking about writing drafts about all that’s happened in the past week and what’s about to happen and submit them to a Hollywood producer.

“C’mon, chiquitita, we need to find cover,” Eddie addressed you again. You glared at him but followed nonetheless.

You didn’t even notice that you were mindlessly walking around a few seconds ago until Robin grabbed your forearm.

“For both our sakes,” She chuckled. You also nearly fell into the lake that day you wore the ABBA shirt.

It wasn’t long until your group stopped again. You froze at the thought of more “demobats”, or whatever you heard Steve call it, coming your way but thankfully it was just Steve coming to a halt due to his injuries.

Nancy immediately came to his aid and you watched in curiosity. Their glances towards each other lately were not as discreet as they think and you would’ve easily jumped in to nag Steve’s ear off to protect your best friend if he wasn’t being nice. It was odd. You were never in his line of fire when he was still in school but you saw from a distance how much an asshole King Steve was. But during this entire ‘adventure’ he was actually decent and your rudeness would be unwarranted. You saw the genuine fear in his eyes when Max Mayfield’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she started lifting off from the ground. Sure you were scared too because she’s only a child, she doesn’t deserve this but you could tell that the look in Steve’s eyes was fear coming from a place of losing a loved one.

Steve was grunting in pain as Nancy wrapped the scrap fabric around his torso and it was only then did the sting of the bites from earlier settle in your nerves. Someone was saying something about guns but the blood pumping in your ears overpowered their voices.

“Fuck,” You said as you eyed the red gashes. “Am I gonna have rabies?!”

“What?” “That’s what I was saying!”

The sight of blood never did anything good for you. It always creeped you out and made you woozy. It didn’t matter if it was your own or from someone else’s wound, oh, but it was definitely way worse if it was your own. You felt like throwing up at the sight. And you were trying to keep the tears of pain at bay but it was as if all the hurt from the bats only registered now. It was probably a coping mechanism; you hated blood and everything about it and that’s why you only looked now.

“Woah, hey,” Was that Robin or Eddie? “Y/N? Are you okay?”

Oh, it’s Munson. You could tell from the long strands of hair softly tickling your cheek.

“She hates blood. Like really hates blood,” Nancy said in panic.

“And there’s lots of it,” Robin let out in a breath.

That seemed to alert you subconsciously and your breathing picked up until you were sure you were gasping. You’re overreacting. Steve has it much worse and he’s still standing.

You tried to right yourself by shaking your head. Snap out of it! Then you felt a fabric, almost like a handkerchief, running over your bare arms— you hated that you ditched your denim jacket at the Wheelers— and the sight of ring-clad hands wiping away the red liquid confused you enough to distract you from the pain.

“There you go.. okay now, Y/L/N?” You oddly felt deflated at the lack of a nickname.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry for being such a little bitch,” You chuckled but your voice was devoid of humor.

“You helped me by grabbing those things with your bare hands,” Steve suddenly spoke, his hands mimicking your actions. “That’s badass.”

You huffed out a thanks with a truer chuckle this time. This whole dynamic was weird but everyone’s presence was the only comfort you had right now and you would not let it slip from your fingers.

“Let’s get moving then,” You suggested. “I heard something about Nancy’s guns?”

Said gun owner gave you a watery smile. She gently pulled you in, careful to avoid your cuts, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” You sighed. “I’m glad everyone’s okay.”

Your group got to trekking the ghastly landscape towards the upside down Wheeler house. What a mouthful. It was exhausting watching every step because of the apparent vine mechanism but your adrenaline still hasn’t run out and you hoped it would last until you got out of this literal hellhole.

The dust particles and never ending midnight sky sent shivers down your spine. You sent a quiet prayer for all of you to make it out alive.

“Hey,” It was Munson again. You nearly tripped backwards when he appeared next to you.

It felt nice that he was talking to you. You’ve had English with him twice and you would be lying if you said the metalhead didn’t intrigue you. He intimidated you, sure, but there were layers to that. He was an enigma. The most interaction you had with Eddie was that group project for midterms and finals. You were probably giving yourself too much credit but you felt as if you had gotten past the first layer of his facade during that time. To everybody else, it was a teenage boy not caring for his studies, but to your keen eye it was obvious that Eddie Munson was purposefully orchestrating that appearance to the world. He submitted works two weeks late but when you got a peek, his poetry blew you away. As if it was some lyricist’s magnum opus. But you knew he had more to offer in the future and he was only going to get better from there. The piece was so good that even if it was submitted way past the deadline, the poem still got a B.

“Hey,” You greeted back. When he didn’t reply for a minute, you followed up with a “How are you holding up?”

He looked taken aback. It was quite adorable really. You were used to his scowl and exaggerated faces to tease someone. You couldn’t find a better description for right now than puppy dog eyes.

“You’re asking me that? You, who got beaten up by bats?” Eddie asked, bewildered.

“I mean, you’re dealing with a police investigation, a Salem witch hunt– you’re the witch by the way, and the actual supernatural all at once and you probably haven’t had a proper meal in a week,” You frowned. “And I wasn’t beat up.”

“Well, since you put it that way, it is pretty fucked up. But I’d rather deal with this Vecna jerk than the new chief of police.” He smiled this time, directly at you and it felt like a metaphorical light in this literal dark.

“I actually kinda miss Hopper,” You shrugged. You hugged your arms to your chest. The feeling of the dried blood bothered you. “Chrissy would have already gotten her justice by now.”

It was silent after that when Eddie had no reply to your words. You feared that you said the wrong thing and your heart sinked even further. More anxiety wasn’t needed in this life or death situation.

“Do you-” He started, Your head whipped towards his direction so fast that you felt your cheeks warm at your eagerness. “Do you think he’d accuse me? Hopper, I mean.”

This time you didn’t break eye contact. “No. He wouldn’t even name you a suspect so quickly like they did. They’re so prejudiced it’s insane.”

“Prejudice, heh,”

“What’s funny?” You asked, eyeing his sly grin. It was a look of trouble.

“Nothing, just,” Eddie ran a hand along his chin. This time you eyed the chunky, intricate silver rings. “I remember we were grouped for a class and you scolded poor Logan Clarke when he asked too many questions while you were trying to read your copy of Pride and Prejudice.”

You had no recollection of that memory but you couldn’t help but flash him a curious smile, “You remember that?”

“Is that weird?” He asked, suddenly looking self-conscious. When you shook your head no, his grin made a return.

Robin was now suddenly yelling directions and you all quickly followed. The sooner the better. You had a family to come home to. And after getting out of the upside down you had to save them. You had to.

The grimey distorted version of the Wheeler house came into view and all of you stopped to catch your breath. All that was needed was to safely get into Nancy’s room and grab her weapon. The notion of having something to protect you in the upside down gave you relief.

The other three made their way up the stairs quickly but a gentle hand on yours stopped you in your tracks.

“Here.”

You were dumbstruck. Eddie Munson was offering you his leather jacket. You didn’t know him that well but you think you know his sentiment over the piece of clothing he was handing to you.

You started to shake your head to refuse but he shook his head back and went around your frame to help you slip your arms into the sleeves without hurting yourself. You caught a glimpse of his pale forearms, the only marks littering it were artsy tattoos. You didn’t know why you felt relieved when he didn’t have the same teeth marks and blood on him.

He stepped away when the jacket was finally on. It smelled of dark mahogany, real leather, and something so uniquely Eddie. One part of your brain was telling you to return it but it was warm and comforting that your tense shoulders finally had a moment to sag and relax.

“Take it, dancing queen. You’re practically shivering.”

—+—

So close. You were so close.

You had practically burst into tears of joy when Nancy returned to normal. You jumped back into the other side without hesitation when you heard Steve calling out to her. You felt like sinking into the floor when you saw her rolled back eyes. You were straight up sobbing and you were surprised you pulled enough strength to hold her unconscious body next to Steve.

“Nancy!” You shook her harshly. If that was what needed to be done to wake her up while the others looked for cassette tapes then you’d shake her til your arms fell off. “Nancy, no, no, no, please. Please. No.”

Flashes of past memories came and go through your mind and you didn’t pay it attention when the present sight of your best friend at the verge of being killed is as terrifying.

She came back with a gasp. You didn’t have time to ponder how she did come back without the physcological effects of music but you were thankful. You told her to get back to the other side, the normal side, as you watched her along with Steve.

Steve, ever the gentleman, let you go first. You were not the most athletic so climbing up the makeshift rope was a bit of a struggle. Nancy didn’t let her exhaustion take over, not until she helped you by grabbing your hand. She was still clutching your hand by the time Steve came back and you didn’t know why suddenly the grip was almost bone crushing.

“You’re so happy aren’t you? That everyone’s back?” Nancy said. Her voice was clear of the raspiness it had earlier. Too clear. Almost artificial, as if something was mimicking her.

“Yes, I’m so-“ You mentally prepared yourself for it but it still caught you off guard.

One half of Nancy’s face looked as if it was melting like candle wax. You weren’t stupid. You knew it was your turn.

“Nancy, I—“ You started. It was probably pointless that you called her Nancy since obviously this person in front of you isn’t your best friend anymore.

“I thought we didn’t keep secrets, Y/N.” Her ‘voice’ was pitching lower and lower that it was now scary, horror like. She sauntered towards you and kept getting closer without stopping that you fell back. Her face was so distorted to the point she looked like a corpse and you cried at the sight.

You felt sand. Sand everywhere. But the menacing red sky surrounding you didn’t fit the scenery of a beach. A sob slipped past your lips. No no no. You cannot relive this all again. The heartbreak of everything would actually manage to kill you before this Vecna creature did.

“Please, stop,” Such a juvenile act, covering your ears with the palm of your hands. “Please, let me go.”

Then you heard it. A chime of a clock. A booming sound that vibrated in your chest and you knew this is what haunted Max.

“Why would I do that, Y/N.” The voice was completely different now. No trace of Nancy in its echo. Your name was hissed like a taunt.

“Just like you let me go?” The shout was so loud it forced your eyes open. And you screamed.

—+—

“Fuck! Y/N, wake up!”

The sight of your skin, once full of life, was now turning grayer by the minute. No sight was scarier than your eyes lacking its vibrant color as a milky white took its place. The leather jacket covering your frame looked more vibrant than your ghostly appearance.

Everybody’s hands were shaking. Nancy’s as she helplessly shook your body. Max’s and Robin’s as they went over the piles of cassette tapes that were most likely not going to have your favorite bands. Dustin and Lucas’ as they each set up a boom box and a cassette player with headphones just to be safe. But all these precautions were going to be in vain if they didn’t find a song that will pull you out of this godforsaken curse.

“No, no, hey, hey!” Steve desperately clutched onto your wrists as he saw the first sign of your feet lifting off the ground.

—+—

“I didn’t mean to,” You shook your head. The tears were overflowing now. “I’m sorry, you know I’m sorry. I regret it every single day of my life.”

“Do you now?” The face of your cousin was as distorted as Nancy’s. But this felt a lot more eerie as the last time you saw it was when—

You screamed in utter fear as the face and body morphed again but this time it wasn’t into another person. A monster. With vein like lines crawling all over their giant body and surprisingly human eyes. They were cold and hateful.

You tried to get up and crawl away, feeling the black sand scratch at your wounds, opening them up again. You cried in pain. Worse when you were pulled by your feet and dragged backwards. The pain was unlike anything you’ve felt before and you hoped that if it was your time to go, this horrendous monster would have the mercy of making it a quick departure.

—+—

“Fuck, fuck,”

Dustin looked over, surprised at his friend, the mighty Eddie Munson, having tears well up by his eyes.

“I-I know she likes ABBA–shit! I don’t have anything like that, fuck. Fuck!” Eddie was carelessly tearing through his collection. Most of these cost a good amount of money but right now he couldn’t even think about anything like that when saving you was his top priority.

This had already happened once in his home and he was not about to let it happen again.

“Anything close! Like a soft rock or something that sounds like pop! Anything—anything!” Nancy was sobbing now. She couldn’t let another best friend of hers be taken away from her.

Suddenly, a tape with a black cover and gold lining was in Eddie’s grasp. This is the closest he can get away from his heavy metal.

He raised it to Nancy so she can look but she was teary eyed and trying to grasp onto your legs. Eddie showed it to the person closest next to him, Robin, who nodded.

“I think she listens to them. It’s worth a try.” Robin’s deep voice was raspier than usual as fear consumed her eyes that were looking over at you.

Eddie gave a mumbled sorry to the Sinclair siblings as he practically shoved them out of the way to place the tape into the boom box and pressed play. The sound was surely going to draw attention from the neighbors but it was just a famous song playing so all they could hope for was that there will probably be no danger.

—+—

“You left her there to drown, Y/N,” You swear you heard Vecna tsk. The creepy, sluggish vines slithered towards you and were tightly wrapping around your limbs.

This was the end.

But just the beginning. Of a song. Of hope. Of a familiar song you would scream to when you had the chance to be home alone.

Any way the wind blows doesn't really matter to me

“You are going to die today, Y/N, you are going to drown. Just like your beloved cousin did.”

You shut your eyes. It was an accident. You were a child. You have not fully forgiven yourself but what is important you were in the process of it.

It hurts. Every single day you feel the pull of guilt and you may never be without it, but you were living in the way you can still love your family. This isn’t your time. Not in the hands of a monster named after a silly game character.

Too late, my time has come,

Sends shivers down my spine, body's aching all the time

The vines were pressing into the minor cuts on your legs. Your hands were still free and you caught a glimpse of the leather adorning your arms. You were not going to go without seeing the boy who owns this jacket.

So you took your chance, rattled Vecna like how Steve demonstrated you did with the bats, and fled for your fucking life. Your knees were killing you, the cuts all over your body were determined to slow you down, but not even this beast could defeat Freddie Mercury.

You didn’t look back. Only let the sound of Queen consume you with hope as you saw the image of your friends hold onto your body. It was the light at the end of the tunnel.

And when the operatic section hits, you felt connected with yourself once more before falling into carpeted ground.

You vaguely heard a female voice saying they were going to get a glass of water. Something small and cold pressed against the side of your neck and you just knew.

“You had Queen?” You teased with a broken voice.

You heard a collective sigh of relief and never felt happier. A hand gently smoothed over your tangled hair.

“Yeah, thank god, I wouldn’t know what I would’ve done with myself. I better start calling you Killer Queen now, eh?”

That nickname doesn’t sound so bad.

my first stranger things fic :> please reblog if you enjoyed it <3

#stranger things #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #robin buckley #stranger things fic #stranger things season four #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson oneshot

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fulmis · 2 years

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For as long as you'd let me (Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Summary: You’ve worked in Nelson, Murdock, & Page for over a year as a paralegal. Despite being aware of his feelings for you Matt has never acted out on them, believing you deserve more to be happy. However, that soon changes when you start dating someone else.

Warnings: no use of y/n, reader uses she/her pronouns, angst with a happy ending, feelings of jealousy, mentions of crying, and mentions of blood/injuries (canon typical ones)

Notes: This is the first time I write Matt, and overall the first time I write a one-shot. It’s not proofread either, so please let me know of any mistakes (which I apologize for in advance). Also, this is vaguely inspired by Taylor Swift’s “The Way I Loved You”.

It started as a simple paralegal job. With Karen dividing her time between The Bulletin and Nelson, Murdock & Page, she reached out to you, and you quickly became a member of the group.

Mornings, afternoons, and late nights were spent working on cases. Plus your weekly visits to Josie’s meant that there wasn’t much time you spent without Karen, Foggy, and Matt. You couldn’t complain, you loved your job. Although what made it so much better was how the small group started to feel like your family.

That was why you had never bothered to pursue your small crush on Matt. Romance in the workplace was bound to ruin things. You didn't want to compromise everything you had achieved in the past few months. Yet every time you were alone with Matt your heart was unable to contain itself.

“I’m just saying, maybe he feels the same way you do.”

“I don’t know Karen…”, you let out a low chuckle to try to hide your embarrassment.

“I’m serious… I know he can be hard to read sometimes, but every time you’re around he seems… happy.” She gave you a hopeful smile, and you thought back to every single time you’d been around him. The feather-light brushes of his hand against yours as he reaches for the braille documents when you’re doing late-night research. Or maybe how he always offers to walk you home as you head out of Josie’s, his hold on your arm becoming arms intertwined as you grew more comfortable with each other.

It just never went past that. The familiar closeness never moved beyond flirty; it had just enough innocence to regard it as nothing more than friendly. Little did you know your crush wasn’t as unrequited as you thought.

Matt often thought about you. It started with the small things like how you’d hum quietly on your desk. The song coming from your lips was one he couldn’t quite pinpoint. He’d try to figure out the song every now and then, but it didn’t really matter because he just loved listening to your voice. Sometimes he realized he was humming it back as he jumped from rooftop to rooftop during patrol, your voice engraved on his mind.

On other days he would listen to you talking to yourself as you made coffee while pacing through the kitchenette. It brought warmth to his heart. You always brought him a fresh cup of coffee as soon as it finished brewing. The gesture never failed to bring a smile to his face, especially after you started bringing your own coffee to the office. The scent was rich and nutty, nothing compared to the cheap dirt Foggy used to steal from the financial office next door when they started the firm.

Matt couldn’t help it either every time you spent the night helping him work on a case, even long after Karen and Foggy wrapped up the day and headed home. He admired your resilience, and how determined you were to read things over and over just to find the smallest of details that could help them turn the case over.

He just didn’t know what to do.

This was an unfamiliar situation. Flirting wasn't new to him, but becoming nervous around someone, overthinking his every move? That was a whole thing on its own. Those signs pointed to serious feelings, not the casual flings he was used to. In the past, every now and then a one-night stand might happen, but he’d always tell Foggy the same at the end.

It didn’t work out.

After the whole Elektra ordeal, nobody ever stuck around for long, and he knew the reason why. The Devil inside of him always made him half a man, bound to split his time between the law and keeping Hell’s Kitchen safe. Even if you actually wanted him as Matt Murdock, there was no way you would love the darkness inside his heart.

Because nobody could genuinely love every part of him. He was a broken pile of glass, the pieces bloodied and ready to cut through the hands of anyone who chose to hold them. If his feelings were to be reciprocated he knew he would break your heart eventually, and you deserved so much more than pathetic excuses or missed dates.

She’ll leave you. She deserves better, and the minute she finds out she’ll be gone.

With every minute spent in your presence, the thought was only reaffirmed. There was an ever-constant tug of war between his heart and his fears, the latter always seemed to pull harder. Which is why he never got the courage to ask; because let’s be honest, who could ever want someone that was nothing more than a liability?

Months went by, and you lost all hope. Not even Foggy or Karen could get Matt to act out on his feelings, and you assumed he really only thought of you as a friend.

When you found yourselves at Josie’s on a random Friday, the night started just like any other, until you went to get the next round of drinks at the bar. A familiar voice called out your name. Your eyes landed on an old friend from college, and you yelped as he lifted you up and spun you around in the air.

Matt’s breath hitched in his chest, the blood ringing in his ears. You walked over together to the booth and he swore he had to fight the urge to puke when you introduced your friend to the group. After you sat down, his hand was on your knee as you recalled memories from college. Foggy and Karen couldn't help but exchange awkward looks. A feeling of rage and disgust boiled inside Matt’s chest while the tension crept around his shoulders. Yet the worst part came when he heard your genuine laugh, your skin growing flushed and your body relaxed.

Matt realized then that’s how it should be: easy. The days that followed only rubbed it further on his face. Your friend had accepted a job in the city, and he wasted no time asking you to catch up. The next Monday, you didn’t stay with Matt at the office as you usually did most nights. A different perfume was on your skin, a sweeter kind. The smell of carmine on your lips was unusual too. Worst of all, he couldn’t help but overhear you talking with Karen as you walked through the hall outside the office.

“You’re going on a date?”

“It’s not really a date, we’re just having dinner”

“That lipstick sure screams date,” Karen’s laugh was quickly joined by yours.

“I promise you it’s not, we just haven’t seen each other in a while…”

The bouquet of peonies that was delivered the next day seemed to say otherwise. The soft citrusy sweetness reached Matt as soon as the delivery man entered the building. Foggy’s voice resounded on the walls as he walked to the door. “Whoa… That is definitely something…”

Karen joined in a nanosecond, her eyes wide in mock surprise as she gasped “Are you sure it wasn’t a date?”

You quickly brushed them off, but Matt felt the temperature of your cheeks rise. He wanted to be upset really upset, but all he felt was sadness. The truth was that if he had his way, he would want you to have everything in the world, even if it meant that someone else gave it to you. His feelings could remain buried forever, so they could pave way for your happiness to bloom.

“Man, you sure you’re okay? You seem down lately…”

“Don’t worry about it, Foggy.”

Matt kept his distance from then on. Why be petty when you had finally found the man of your dreams? He couldn’t offer you that stability anyways. Romantic getaways upstate, fancy dinners uptown, long walks, and picnics on Central Park, he heard it all as you dished to Karen; a true fairytale.

Which is why he didn’t expect to find you crying in the office on a Saturday night. He had gone to retrieve some files, but after a pretty tough night of patrol on Friday he had preferred to wait until the next night. The only sound coming from the room was from a single light bulb and your quiet sobs.

He opened the door slowly and listened to the rushed sound of you quickly wiping your tears. “Hi, sorry, I didn’t think you would come in today…” you said to play it off. The taste of salt in the air made his heart ache, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah… it’s no big deal…” your voice came out broken and defeated, despite your best attempts to even it. Your eyes found Matt’s face, and you rushed to his side the moment you saw his split lip and the butterfly bandages on his eyebrow. “My God, Matt, what happened to you?” Your hands were soon to find his cheek and he did his best not to jump against your touch.

“I asked you first...”

When you didn’t reply he chose to continue, “I fell while taking out the trash, but... why were you crying?”

Your hand left his face and fell to your side in defeat. After a deep breath you gathered the courage to speak up, “It didn’t work out… um we, we broke up… I just… I couldn’t do it anymore…”

Matt felt speechless, his mind tried to find words to comfort you, but it was interrupted when he heard you sob again. “I really tried Matt,” your hands found your face; your best attempt to comfort yourself was a failure when the tears piled in your eyes. Matt’s heart broke in pieces hearing you like this. He lifted his arms to hold you; however, they were unable to reach their destination when he froze to your next words. “I really tried, Matt... but he wasn’t you”

The sentence hit Matt like a punch to the face. Between your sobs, the words felt like a fever dream. He couldn’t hold you fast enough, and as soon as his arms touched you, you sank into his chest. Your heartbeat was fast against his, and he felt he couldn't hold you tightly enough. Matt did his best to stifle his own emotions, despite the tears forming in his eyes, “Oh, sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry… I shouldn’t… shouldn't dump this all on you… I wanted to believe I could bury everything I felt for you... I... I know you don’t feel the same way, but… I just… I’m sorry…”

That’s what finally tipped him. In all his years Matt had never felt this stupid before. In his best attempt to spare your feelings he had you crying here in his arms. He only let go of you to take your face in his hands, his lips hesitant but powerless against the weight on his chest. They pressed softly against yours and quickly pulled back an inch in case that wasn’t what you wanted, but you gently returned the gesture.

With your face in his hands, he proceeded to kiss the tears on your cheeks, “I should be the one to apologize. I thought I was doing you a favor denying my feelings, but I’ve wished for nothing more than to be by your side… for as long as you’d let me…”

A smile broke from your lips as you reached once again to kiss him, slow and soft while the last hitched breaths left your lungs. His lips were warm against yours, and the faintest taste of copper rolled through your tongue from the cut on Matt’s bottom lip.

Matt knew right then and there that it didn’t matter if he never felt he deserved you, he would never go back to being without you. The Devil could be dealt with later, as long as it meant he could have you in arms. He promised himself he’d spend every single day to come owning it up to you if it meant he could have your heart in exchange.

_______________________________

Thank you so much for reading, all feedback is widely appreciated! (:

#matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock fanfiction #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil x reader #daredevil fanfiction

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loveroftoomanyfandoms · 2 months

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Mise en Place, Chapter 3

Pairing: Chef!Matt Murdock x F!Journalist!Reader

Rating: M

Story Summary: Things are looking up for Chef Matthew Murdock -- Not only was he the subject of a front-page article in the New York Bulletin, but (after a few misunderstandings) he managed to get a date with you, the beautiful journalist who wrote the feature.

Now that Matt is no longer the subject of one of your features, your budding relationship with him is starting to simmer -- until someone from Matt's past threatens to turn off the heat.

With another obstacle in your way will your and Matt's relationship cool, or can the two of you work together to put "everything in it's place"?

Warnings/Tags: Hallmark levels of fluffy, cheesy goodness, no use of Y/N, Matt is not a vigilante, developing relationship, things gone get SPICY later 🔥 (aka smut in future chapters), things gone get angsty for a minute first though 😈

Word Count: ~1850

A/N: I finally figured out how I want the story to flow, so please note the change in summary!

Divider by @theradioactivespidergwen

Tag List: @danzer8705 @shouldbestudying41 @capylore @mattmurdockstateofmind @yarrystyleeza

“Hey, sorry I'm late,” Matt said as he entered his and Foggy's office the next morning. “I stopped by the florist on my way here and it took a bit longer than I expected. Who knew flowers all had different meanings?”

“It’s fine,” Foggy replied. “So…you look happy. I take it your date was a success?”

Matt huffed out a laugh. “It was. Thanks again for your help.”

“No problem, dude. Anytime. I mean it.”

Matt took his coat off and hung it on the coat rack. “So how's this week's order looking?”

“Well in both good and bad news, we have lots of stuff left over from last week's order, so all we really need to order is our usual perishables and the stuff for the new menu items that we don't already have on hand.” Foggy paused. “...Or at least we would've if we hadn't gotten a bunch of new reservations, including 12 just for tonight.”

Matt grinned. “Really? That's great!”

“Yeah, and almost all of them said that they had heard of us through the Bulletin article.”

Matt sighed. “I know I was an asshole about that at first, but seriously, thank you for setting that interview up.”

Foggy chuckled. “Honestly I'm just glad it all worked out in the end -- both professionally and personally. Oh, and by the way, Skyler told me this morning that the Bulletin would be covering Kingpin's closure but she wasn't sure yet who would be writing the article or when exactly it would be out.”

Matt wondered if you would get the assignment – after all, you did write a lot of other stories in addition to your weekly features. “I still can't believe Kingpin actually got shut down. I mean I can believe it, but we always suspected that Fisk had most of the Health Department on his payroll and that it would never actually happen.”

Foggy huffed out a laugh. “Too bad for him that one of the few health inspectors not on the take did the inspection this time.”

Matt nodded. Mahoney was one of the honest ones. “Did Brett say anything else?”

“Just that he was sure that Fisk was going to try to appeal the shutdown but that with the number and severity of violations there was no way he was going to win it.” Foggy paused. “You know, that makes me wonder if there's going to be an internal investigation into the health department.”

Matt hummed. “It’s more than likely. Because of the shutdown they'll probably pull the records for Kingpin's previous inspections, and if they do I really wouldn't be surprised if they found discrepancies in the reports.”

He shook his head. “Alright, let’s get to work on prep. I have a feeling we're going to be a lot busier than usual tonight.”

“Hey, Ellison wants to see you right away,” Skyler said as soon as you walked into the Bulletin.

You nodded as you walked over to your desk and locked your purse in your drawer. “Okay. Coffee afterwards?”

“Of course.”

You smoothed out your blouse and walked to Ellison's office, then knocked on the open door. “Hey, Skyler said you wanted to see me?”

Ellison nodded. “Hey, yeah, come on in.”

You walked in and closed the door, then took a seat. “What's up?”

“I wanted to fill you in on yesterday,” Ellison replied. “Although I'm sure you've probably already heard at least most of what happened.”

You nodded with a wince. “Yeah, I heard that Kelsie didn't exactly go quietly.”

Ellison huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, ‘quiet’ is definitely not a word I would've used to describe her departure. I tried to handle things peacefully without having to get security involved and without the rest of the staff knowing exactly what was going on, but she insisted on causing a scene on her way out the door.”

You shook your head as you imagined Kelsie being dragged out of the Bulletin kicking and screaming. “I bet that made for an interesting staff meeting.”

Ellison sighed. “Actually, because of her antics I spent most of the day filling out extra paperwork and had to postpone this week’s meeting to today.”

“Oh, okay.”

Ellison studied you for a moment. “So how are you doing?”

You shrugged. “All things considered, I'm actually doing okay. Chef Murdock stopped by my apartment yesterday morning to apologize for getting so upset with me over Kelsie's article, then he…” A soft smile spread across your face at the memory of your evening with Matt. “He asked me to have dinner with him.”

Ellison raised an eyebrow. “I take it from the look on your face that dinner was off the record, so to speak?”

You huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, it was.”

“Then that's all I need to know.” Ellison turned back towards his computer. “Staff meeting in 10. Tell the others for me, would you please?”

“Sure thing.” You stood and turned to leave.

“Oh.” Ellison said your name. “One other thing.”

You turned back towards him. “Sir?”

“Just so you know…” Ellison shot you a small smile. “I’m happy for you.”

You nodded with a smile of your own. “Thank you, Mitch. I really appreciate it.”

“Alright, get out of here.”

You walked out of Ellison's office. “Boss said staff meeting in 10 minutes, everyone,” you announced as you exited Ellison's office.

“And don't be late!” Ellison chimed in from his office.

Skyler followed you to the break room. “So, how'd it go last night? I've been dying to know.”

You got your coffee cup from the cabinet and filled it with water. “Honestly, it was amazing. Matt served dinner up on his rooftop, where we ate and talked for hours before going back down to his apartment for dessert.”

A sly grin spread across Skyler's face. “Was it cake?”

You shook your head with a laugh as you poured your water into the office Keurig and put a pod in. “No, it was not cake, actually, it was chocolate mousse, which was so good.”

You closed the Keurig and pressed the start button. “Oh my gosh, that reminds me… while we were eating dessert Matt told me I had some on the corner of my mouth so I wiped at it and asked if I got it, but then he shook his head, wiped at the corner of my mouth with his thumb, then kissed me.”

Skyler huffed out a laugh. “Way to make a move.”

“I know, right?” You grinned. “Afterwards I asked him how he even knew I had chocolate mousse on my face and he suddenly got all shy and said that he didn't know, he just wanted to have an excuse to kiss me.”

Skyler shook her head. “Oh my God, that's so damn cute.”

You nodded. “I told him he didn't need an excuse to kiss me, so he kissed me again and we wound up making out in his kitchen.”

Skyler chuckled. “Get it, girl.”

You waited as your coffee finished brewing then moved your cup over to where the sugar and creamer were kept to fix your coffee to your liking while Skyler brewed hers. “Anyway, Matt said that he had been imagining all week what it would've been like to kiss me and that he definitely wants to keep seeing me, then since by that point it was getting late he walked me home before kissing me good night.”

“Aww. So when's your next date?”

You shrugged. “I’m not sure, but he said he was going to call me at some point today.”

You took a sip of your coffee before nodding in satisfaction. “So finish telling me about your date with Foggy. Did you two kiss?”

Skyler shook her head. “No, we just hugged, but he gave me a kiss on the cheek yesterday when he brought me lunch and we're getting together Sunday afternoon, so who knows what might happen?”

You grinned. “You might be getting some cake of your own soon.”

Skyler laughed. “Fingers crossed.”

She added a bit of sugar and creamer to her coffee before stirring it in. “Come on, let's get to the conference room.”

The two of you headed back down the hallway to the conference room and took your usual seats along with the rest of the staff.

A few minutes later, Ellison walked in. “Okay, let's get this over with. As most of you already know, Kelsie is no longer employed by the New York Bulletin. Before you ask, no, I'm not revealing exactly why. Just know that any sort of unethical journalistic behavior will not be tolerated and are grounds for immediate dismissal.”

Robert, who handled the local crime beat, raised his hand. “So who's taking over the food and restaurant circuit?”

“Luckily with this being Restaurant Week everything is already covered for now,” Ellison replied. “We'll be advertising the position starting next week however, so if anyone is interested, let me know.”

“Think you want to apply?” you whispered to Skyler.

“No way,” she whispered back. “Kelsie probably put a curse on the position before she left.”

Ellison cleared his throat. “Now on to important business -- this week's new assignments. Skyler, you're covering the Fall Food Festival at the community center on Thursday night.”

Skyler nodded. “No problem.“

He said your name.

You nodded. “Yes, sir?”

“It's too late to get anything about Kingpin’s shutdown to print, but do you think you can at least get me five hundred words by noon for the online edition?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

“Great. In addition, I'm approving your next three weekly features since I know you'll be busy with the food drive for the next couple of weeks and will need to fit the interviews in when you can. And speaking of the food drive, I'm issuing a personal challenge to all of you -- let's fill up those boxes and make this the best food drive possible!”

Ellison finished giving everyone their assignments. “Alright, let's move, people. The news waits for no one and we're already behind.”

You stood and headed back to the bullpen.

To your surprise, a beautiful bouquet of pink and white roses sat on your desk, your name on the small attached envelope. A note in the security guard’s handwriting accompanied it.

These arrived for you while you were away from your desk, so I took the liberty of bringing them up to you.

--Phil

Skyler gasped. “Are those from who I think they're from?”

A broad smile spread across your face. “I certainly hope so.”

You took the card out of the envelope, your heart fluttering when you saw the message printed on it.

Thinking of you and our dinner together last night. Can't wait to see you again.

--Matt

You pulled your phone out of your pocket and sent Matt a quick text. Thank you so much for the flowers. They're beautiful!

(By the way, I'm thinking of you too and also can't wait to see you again. ❤️)

You put your phone away, hoping that you'd get to thank Matt in person soon.

#lotmf writes #Mise en Place Masterlist #Chef!Matt Murdock x Reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader

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