#and the blues ended up losing the series anyway
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Bad Boys Bring Roses - G.S.
Synopsis. You’ve never dealt with the yakuza - not once. So why is the future head of the Gojo clan suddenly coming up to you, demanding that you marry him for 30 days?
Pairing. Yakuza boss! Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, yakuza! au, fake marriage, annoyances to lovers, elders suck, mentioned k*lling (not reader or Satoru), Satoru is INSANE and SO down bad, one bed trope, praise, biting, oral (fem receiving), fíngering, unprotected, créampie, spitting, overstim, flower language, kníves, bit dark, HAPPY ENDING, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 9.1k (whoopsies)
A/N. I just HAD to get this out of my mind like I wanna write an entire book series on this. Spent too long researching rose language as well so see if y’all catch that hehe.
You thought the wedding invitation was a joke when it had arrived - a delicate, lacey little card that you’ve probably read over a million times by now. It had been stuffed haphazardly into your mailbox, along with a ridiculously large bouquet of purple roses. Seemingly inconspicuous when you first tore into the thick envelope, wondering which one of your friends was getting married now.
And it was - that is, until you saw your name at the very top - right where the blushing bride’s was supposed to be.
We hereby formally invite you to the marriage of…
What?
No return address. No date. No groom’s name either. Only yours, written in beautiful, golden writing - inviting you to your own wedding, exactly a week from now.
You remember perfectly the way you’d flipped it over and over in your hands, the gears turning in your head as you tried to crack down on the motive behind this invitation. A threat? A joke? Texting all of your friends about what a cute prank that was - only to get a shared confused reaction, and a few “April Fool’s has already passed, y’know.”
Hell, you’d even cornered the mailman, desperate to get to the bottom of this. But that wasn’t particularly helpful when he was only able to shake his head in protest, pale as a sheet, and trembling ever-so-slightly as he sped away from you. Weird.
Without a clue as to who sent the letter, or even a follow-up in the days after, you stuffed the invitation somewhere deep in the back of your closet and handed the bouquet to your mother. Not bothering to tell your parents where it was from - because who’d worry over a stupid prank like this? It was probably one of the kids from down the street that’d gotten their grubby lil’ hands on a printer.
You, however, had more important things to focus on - like trying to help your father revive his failing diner. It was a family business, a quaint, hearty little shop. One that was quickly, and dangerously, losing both customers and employees with the brand new fast food place that’d popped up right across the street.
Which is why you found yourself here - working overtime on a Saturday night, looking over the empty chairs and stacks of boxes from behind the counter. Whatever, it was only a few weeks until relocation anyway.
You heave out a sigh, eyes flitting to the clock beside you - 11:21pm.
Nine minutes more, you drum your fingers in boredom, maybe you should just close up early. Because sure as hell no one else was-
“Oh? Still open?”
“Ah- Uh, yes, welcome!” Jolting out of your reverie, you stand up ramrod straight, taking in the customer standing at the door. He wasn’t one of the regulars - no, you think you’d remember if he was. Cloudy white hair, piercing blue eyes that twinkle from above his shades, even in the dim light of the diner. He was so very tall, taking up almost all of the doorframe, only getting more and more imposing as he walks up to you in quick, long strides. Magnetizing.
And if you dared let your eyes wonder, you caught a few tattoos peeking out from his unfairly snug button-up, clashing with its flashy blue color. Dragons? Trees? Or were they flowers - roses?
“Roses.” the man in front of you answers your unspoken question, voice so very deep, and melodic - tinged with something playful in it that you wouldn’t have expected at first glance. At your raised brow he continues with a wink, “Could tell ya were checkin’ me out, sweetheart.”
“F-forgive my rudeness, sir.” you sputter, face burning. You look away from the way his muscled ripple as he crosses his arms, immediately turning to fumble with the menus, “Please take a seat and I’ll be there with you shortly.”
You’d expected him to take up a booth, or maybe head towards one of the good tables around the corner. What you did not expect was for him to plop down on the stool right in front of you, flashing you a playful grin before humming, “S’alright, m’just waitin’ for someone.”
Oh. Well, it made sense that someone like him would be taken. Swallowing, you hand over the menu, before giving him a close-lipped smile, “A lover?”
Resting his head on his palms, not bothering to even glance at the list of dishes before him. “My fiancée.”
“Congratulations, Mr…”
“Gojo Satoru.” he tilts his head, looking way too happy with himself. “Please, call me Satoru.”
You nod softly, picking up your pen and notepad to get this conversation over with - and maybe to also avoid his heavy stare that made something hot and uncomfortable coil in your stomach. “Right, Mr-” at his disappointed whine, “Satoru. Congratulations, must be one heck of a thing to plan.”
“Oh I’m having fun with the wedding planning.” He waves off your words with a chuckle, missing - or pointedly ignoring - the way you were waiting for his order. “How’s it going for you?”
What?
You narrow your eyes at the way Satoru was batting those long lashes up at you, deceivingly innocent and waiting for your answer. “I’m sorry- Me? Did you mean with the diner relocation plans or-”
“No no no.” he laughs, loud and boisterous. And usually you’d have a thing or two to say at someone interrupting you if you weren’t so mesmerized by that little dimple at the corner of his grin. One that moves as he plows on, “M’asking how wedding planning is going for you, wifey~”
There’s a beat of silence. One. Two. With you gaping at the pure audacity as Satoru quiets down to little titters, seemingly studying your reaction in amusement. Which slowly, but surely, drains from his face as you grit out a sharp, “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave, sir. We’re very busy and don’t have time to entertain your pick-up lines.”
Those widened blue eyes sweep the painfully empty diner, letting out a low whisper. “I can see that.” you let out a strangled noise of embarrassment at that. “But you’re really gonna ask your husband to leave?”
Huffing in frustration, “I don’t have a husband.”
“...you do.”
“I don’t.”
“You do.”
“I don’t. And who the fuck are you to tell me I do?”
“What?!” Satoru jumps out of his seat in shock, fast enough that the stool clatters to the floor with a deafening clang! Hands slamming on the counter as he leans over it - so close that you could feel his minty breath fanning your face with each hurried, shrill word that tumbles out of his lips. “What do you mean you don’t have a- I’m gonna kill those fuckin’- After I bought Canva premium just to make that invitation? Did the flowers come at least?”
And while Satoru is panicking, words spilling out of his mouth a mile a minute - only one of those rings in your mind - invitation.
“You.” you hiss, barely audible over meltdown in front of you. Pointing a finger accusingly, “You’re the one behind that prank with the dumbass roses.”
That seems to snap Satoru out of his dramatic monologue - and you’re glad it did. Because he looks up to meet your glare, “Hey! You didn’t like the roses?”
And for the first time, you see Satoru more serious than he’d been ever since stepping into this diner. Eyes somewhere behind you, ablaze and almost…frightening. “Didn’t you ask him?”
You whirl around to see your father, who’d apparently rushed downstairs at the commotion. Baseball bat to fight off the intruder hanging in midair as he stands frozen, taking in the scene before him - but more importantly, that man in front of him. “You.”
---
And, well, it’s not everyday that you’re having late night tea with your parents and one of your father’s…business associates. Even rarer when said business associate is…you gulp, praying to whoever’s above that this is all some sick dream you’ll wake up any second from.
“So, let me get this straight…” you sigh, pinching your nose in frustration. It’s been an hour or two of trying to understand whatever this was. Giving a stern look at the two men squirming across from you in the booth. “My father was conned by one of your-” you gesture your head at Satoru, which only makes his smirk grow, “-men to take a loan from your um-”
“Family, yakuza. Anything goes.” he supplies helpfully.
You wave him off, trying as quickly as possible to brush off the ‘yakuza’ bit that makes your stomach lurch. “And now he owes you a favor of…what exactly?”
Satoru leans across the table, t-shirt opening tantalizingly. Voice dropping to an almost-pleading murmur, “Look, I just need you to pretend to be my doting, loving, charming, gorgeous-” backtracking at your withering glare, “...Anyway. I just need a fake wife for a few months, convince my family to get off my back about arranged marriage n’ carrying the Gojo legacy. Then bam! you stomp all over my heart, we divorce and I’m too heartbroken to ever get married again. Easy.”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
You bet Satoru’s disappointed groan echoed across all 23 words of Tokyo, because it was definitely ringing in your ears amongst whirlwind thoughts of marriage? To a yakuza? Completely, and utterly ridiculous. And from his talks of “carrying the family name” it seemed like he was some sort of future head as well. Though, he definitely wasn’t acting like it right now.
“Alright. Plan B, then.”
Oh? You couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t that much of a manchild as sits up from where he’d been splayed all over the table in tragedy. Lacing his fingers together before turning to your father, continuing in a more diplomatic tone, “But I want the cash you took. In full. Now. Gonna hafta disguise my best friend as my wife, n’ dresses for a six foot man aren’t cheap.”
Your mother looked like she could faint right then and there. Choking out a noise of surprise, “B-but we’ve deposited it all for the relocation- Please, can’t we pay any other-”
At the firm shake of his head, you stammer, “Now? Aren’t you some yakuza nepo baby, can’t you just ask your parents for money?”
“No.” Satoru chuckles, in a tone which told you that he probably could but might just lose his head for it. Only further supported as he muses, “Not unless I want a finger cut off for dealin’ money on the side. Seriously, sweetheart, why did you think I sent you the invitation last week?”
“Take me instead.” you father cries, trying to negotiate above Satoru’s half-joking mutters of “Ugh, I’m not into ol’ men dumb enough to sign yakuza contracts.”
It was all too much. You couldn’t take out the relocation deposit - it was a new start, possibly the only thing to save your family. Nor do you have enough in savings to pay back the loan. And if Satoru’s warning was anything to listen to, then you knew that dealing with the yakuza could be dangerous. Why you? Why you? Why you?
“Fine.”
The moment that word leaves your lips, it’s like the whole world freezes. Everyone in the room - including yourself - unsure of whether they heard you right. “I’ll do it.” you clarify, voice hesitant but firm. Eyeing the way Satoru’s eyes begin to sparkle, the beginnings of a smile curling his lips. Raising a finger to shush your father’s protests, “But for a month, until we leave this place. After that m’going with my family and you’re never to contact us ever again. Deal?”
And oh Satoru seemed over the moon, reaching out to grasp your hand in a handshake - so warm, and softer than you’d imagined. “Swear on m’life, wifey. You can kill me if not.”
He was so intimidating - and intimidatingly exhilarating.
Only an hour more of arguing and a quick phone call later, men - yakuza, you assume - were flooding your family’s little diner. All tattooed and burly, looking somewhat comical as they carried your few packed-up suitcases outside. Well, at least they stayed for a late dinner.
And ended up being witnesses to a very rushed, very rushed signing of marriage agreements. Evidence to really show up your alleged marriage. It barely even lasted a few minutes before, well, that was that - you were married, to the son of a yakuza head.
You say a quick goodbye to your teary parents, soothing them with promises of “I’ll be back before you know it. One month. That’s all.”
“And don’t worry about a thing,” Satoru sing-songs, coming up behind you. “If there’s anyone she’s safe with, it’s me.”
“You better keep your mitts off of my baby.” your father warns, raising the baseball bat still clutched in his hand menacingly.
“I won’t lay a hand on her, father-in-law. And anyone that even thinks about it…” he cackles, breath hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “I’ll kill.”
Prancing off to hold the door of that shiny black Mercedes parked outside open for you. “Ladies first.”
With another quick hug to your parents, you hastily make your way inside. Feeling extremely out of place amongst the overly luxurious interior in your slightly-stained work uniform. God, the covers on these cushions themselves probably cost more than your house.
“Like the car? I can buy you one. Or four, as a wedding gift.” Satoru grins.
Oh, right. You weren’t in here alone - you were here with your new…husband. The word felt so strange to even wrap your head around, instead you turn to meet his easy smile. Clenching your jaw as you grit out, “So how do we act m-married?”
You swear he brightens up impossibly, scooting closer to you on the seat. Heart lurching as he raises his eyes to meet yours, dizzy with the heat of his proximity, he promptly pulls out his Notes app.
“Well, you see. I forgot to send this with the invitation so you better memorize this before we get home.” flashing you a long, long list of likes and dislikes, “Here’s my favorite color and my favorite Digimon and-”
That car ride could not have been longer. Because in addition to arguing with Satoru about who the best Digimon was, you had to fill out your own version of his overly extensive list. “So we can be foolproof.” he’d whined. And you’d been so engrossed in the process that you barely noticed the looming estate out the window.
“We’re here, young master and madam Gojo.”
It took a second to register that the driver was talking to you as well as Satoru, immediately pushing your face against the window to take in the scenic site before you. Heavy wooden doors - probably taller than an average house - opening to reveal sprawling gardens. Koi ponds and rose bushes lining a pathway that led to a traditional Japanese house - all power and glory. You half wondered whether you were still in Tokyo.
“Home sweet home.” Satoru grunts. “Such a beautiful hell, huh?”
Your home, for the next month. At least.
And if you had any doubt that Satoru was in fact the future yakuza head, that all went out the window at the welcome you got. Men lining the wooden hallway, bowing at the waist while your all-new husband wraps a hand around your shoulders, pointing out the various rooms and ornaments as he led you in.
“-and this is going to be our room.” he brings you in front of a large tatami room, one the size of your entire diner.
“Ours.” you repeat. Walking unhurriedly to the king-sized bed in the middle - the only bed. Heart pounding as you take it all in.
“Ours.” Satoru echoes, happily. And if he was any bit as affected as you are, then he doesn’t show it, instead pulling out a blue yukata from the closet, a golden Gojo emblem stamped on the back. Made with such a pretty, delicate fabric that it made you shiver to think how much it cost. “Now, I had these made jus’ for you last week. You can give me a lil’ fashion show tomorrow, so make sure you get some rest, wifey.”
It’s only when he says the word “rest” that you realize exactly how tired you are. Your long shift and the entirety of this having your eyes feeling heavier than usual.
“Um…” you start, risking a glance at the bed.
Satoru jolts, “Ah- don’t worry, sweetheart. You take the bed.” beginning to saunter outside to meet his team. “Got some work, so I’ll be sleeping in my office. Dream of me~”
And, really, you almost felt bad splaying yourself out on the crisp navy sheets. Sinking into the heady smell of fabric softener, and something so so Satoru. Addictive. Like an expensive cologne that made your head spin, one that wafted through your mind as you dreamt of summer weddings, and blue, blue skies.
“Ichiji.”
“Yes, young master.”
“See to it that the madam is safe. Anyone try anything funny and you bring them back alive. I wanna be the one to play with them, okay~?”
“Of course, young master.”
---
Admittedly, you probably have the best sleep of your life at the Gojo estate- or, it would’ve been if your husband didn’t burst in every morning at 7am. Handing you a ridiculously big bouquet of white roses, straight from the garden, before dragging you outside.
Milling about the estate, Satoru was never too far behind, chattering away. Letting you hold onto his strong arm crossing the bridges, occasionally having you show up to yakuza meetings as his plus one. Relishing in the rumors spreading all through the yakuza syndicates in Tokyo. Gojo Satoru, and the commoner wife he’d do anything for.
Weirdly enough, some strange little part of you thinks he puts in a lot more work than necessary for some pretend relationship…
“I think that stupid plan is really working, y’know.” you muse to him after a few days of this. Dipping your fingers into one of your favorite koi ponds with a nod at the figures watching you from a distance - Gojo clan elders, you assume. “Those old coots hate being within a five mile radius of me.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, “That so? S’probably the method acting then, huh? Taking good care of me, wifey?” he wiggles his eyebrows, nudging you from where he was holding an umbrella beside you.
Furrowing your brows mockingly, “S’funny for you to say, they don’t even look at me. But they follow me around everywhere.”
“Do they annoy you, must I do my duty as a husband and gouge their eyes out?”
He…didn’t sound like he was joking.
Rolling your eyes, you pointedly ignoring the way your heart lurches at the word “husband.” Still so jumpy at the idea. “Speaking of, your parents give up the marriage proposals, yet?”
At this, Satoru clenches his jaw. “Still nagging, but they’re finally considering you as my actual bride rather than some hijink.” he spits out, seemingly recalling whatever conversation they’d had before. “And they want to have some family ‘dinner’, but it’s going to be awful and you don’t-”
“Let’s go.” you interrupt, nodding determinedly. “The realer this marriage seems, the faster we can divorce, no?”
He blinks at you slowly, “That’s…true. For the divorce, then?”
“For the divorce.”
And, well, that was settled - you were to meet your new in-laws. The ever-elusive heads of the Gojo clan. Also one of the most powerful yakuza in all of Japan, but, semantics really.
You spend the evening cooped up with Satoru in the library, poring over the bloody history of the yakuza - with the Gojo’s heading them all. The only time he actually leaves your side is a few hours before the dinner.
“For you.” he’d murmured, lips ghosting your ear, slipping something cold onto your finger. You look down to see one of the most beautiful rings you’ve ever seen - gold, with delicate blue and white diamonds encrusting it, cut in the shape of roses. “Can’t be married without a wedding ring, huh? Think of it as a good luck charm for tonight.”
And with that he’s swept away in a flurry of bodyguards and ruffled men, and you’re left standing there all alone. Cheeks burning, wondering how the hell he knew your perfect fit.
You worry longer about the dinner than you spend actually preparing for it. Though, that’s probably because of the group of stylists that come into your room to help you dress. Wordlessly fussing around you despite your weak attempts at conversation, eyes averted. Almost like they were…scared of you.
But there wasn’t much time to think of that - not when you’re being marched off in the direction of what you remember Satoru had called the family dining room. “More like a fuckin’ meeting room for those hardasses.” he’d snarked.
The moment you step in, all eyes turn to you - the only ones you recognize being Satoru’s, who immediately stands with a smile. “Ah, wifey! Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” pulling you into a tight hug. His voice drops into a low, raspy murmur in your ear, “Ya look fuckin’ gorgeous in my colors, y’know.”
Traitorously, jolts of electricity run down your spine. Especially at how fucking gorgeous he looked in traditional wear. Whispering back, “Playing up the doting husband bit, huh?”
“Only for you.”
Pulling away, you drink in his dangerously handsome state. Hair so effortlessly styled, tattoos winking at you from just above his yukata - blue, to match yours. So pretty.
Stammering out, “Corny.”
“Only for-”
“Now that the girl is finally here, may we begin with dinner?” A stained voice sounds from behind Satoru, old and tinged with a tone that years of customer service told you did not bode well. Craning your head, you look over his broad shoulders, meeting the eyes of several disapproving elders.
Shit. Some of the most dangerous people in this country right now.
Gathered here - for you.
Automatically, you knew which ones were his parents - painfully upright, and hauntingly beautiful in a cold, calculated way. Sat right at the head of the long table. With a jolt, you realize that you two are seated right opposite them.
“So.” his mother starts, as you take your seat with a bow. Satoru doesn’t waste any time on niceties, plopping down right next to you, scooting closer than necessary. “Congratulations on the…wedding, my son.”
My son. You ignore the way both parents pointedly avoided looking at you. Your husband, however, does not. “What~ Not gonna wish my dear wife as well?”
It’s a silent staredown - one that has the entire room on edge. You don’t realize that you’re clenching your fists in tension until Satoru untangles them, slipping his larger hands into yours. Gaze still alarmingly intense and locked on the other side of the table.
He wins.
“Congratulations. Let us begin now.”
You breathe out a sigh of relief, the tension only slightly broken as butlers stream into the room, carrying decadent trays of food. Well, at least the food might make up for how appalling this dinner is going to be.
It’s only 15 minutes in that you realize how very, horribly wrong you are - because the elders of the Gojo estate really don’t hold back, do they? Thank God you memorized every part of that stupid likes and dislikes list.
Besides picking apart every aspect of your relationship that they could manage to squeeze out of you between the appetizer and the main course, the main scrutiny tonight seems to be you. But in that icy, subtle way that has Satoru’s jaw clenching tighter each second.
Lips curling, Gojo senior eyes you over his wine glass. “So, dear,” voice dripping with underlying venom despite the pet name. “Is it true our Satoru missed an esteemed marriage meeting with the Zenin group to ambush you at some rundown old diner?”
You fight to keep the smile plastered onto your face, painful and cracking under the pressure. A hand squeezing under the table to stop Satoru from opening his mouth to retort, you answer instead, “Well, ambushed wouldn’t be the word. You could say we fell in love over the counter - at my family’s diner.”
“A waitress, she said?”
“Now we know why it was this rushed. Probably pregnant.”
“The scandal. How far the Gojo name has fallen.”
The few stifled gasps from the other end of the table are so dramatic that you could almost laugh. But you don’t. Breath hitching as Mrs. Gojo chuckles, “Marrying the daughter of a lowly diner owner? How... quaint.”
“Mother, be quiet or-”
“What?” she throws her hands in exasperation. “Can’t I say anything around here. Honestly, Satoru, I’m just trying to make conversation with your new wife.”
Before either you or Satoru can react, his father speaks up, apparently not done with the interrogation. “You understand that we’re just worried, right, dear? Especially with marrying into prestigious families, of course.” The emphasis on “prestigious” is not lost on you.” And it drives you insane.
Steeling yourself, you train your eyes on the untouched food below you. “I understand.”
Plowing on as if trying to infuriate you, “And you understand that this position is dangerous? You’ll be targeted.”
“I understand.”
“Do you? Don’t be swept up in our Satoru’s charm and wealth, dear, my son just wants a way out of duty.” tone dripping with disdain, Satoru’s grip becoming tighter and tighter on yours. “The Gojo syndicate owns half of this city, we could bulldoze over that little diner of yours with only one phone call”
“My wife and I are leav-”
“I said I fuckin’ understand.” Your words hang in the air like a foul stench, and you raise your head to glare. If looks could kill, all the elders in this room would be six feet under and you’d be dancing on their graves already. “Neither me, nor my husband would ever let that happen because he knows a thing or two about respect, unlike you.” Lacing your fingers tighter with Satoru’s. “So shove your mighty family up your wrinkly asses. I don’t give a flying shit.”
Eyes wide, jaws dropped, the old couple opposite you finally seems stunned into silence. And if it was any other situation you could’ve almost laughed at how similar they looked to Satoru when he found out you thought his proposal was a prank.
His father adjusts his glasses. “Perhaps that is so.”
Ah, if only the rest of the table would be quietened just as easily.
“Not only is she a slut she’s a-”
Thud!
It all happens so fast you’re not even sure if your eyes are playing tricks on you. Because in a split-second, the knife that was at your side is suddenly embedded, deep into the wooden table - barely even an inch away from the elder that had spoken up.
“You’re lucky I’m matching with my wife n’ didn’t want to dirty this new yukata.” a voice sounds from your side. Melodic and so so eerie that you don’t realize for a second that it’s Satoru - your Satoru.
He loops an arm under your legs as he stands up. Easily maneuvering you into a princess carry, forcing you to cling onto his robes for dear life as your feet dangle from the floor. You look up - maybe to snap at Satoru to put you down - only for the words to die in your throat at how absolutely fucking feral your husband looked. Eyes wide, aura menacing. A grin gracing his features, not the familiar one which had your heart racing, no - something so dangerous and cold.
“Now,” he hums. Turning his back to the room, gaze still locked with the shocked heads inside, “My lovely wife and I will be retiring. Won’t you all say goodnight to your future madam?”
You don’t know what shocks you more - the way everyone in that room mumbles out a disdainful little “Goodnight, ma’am.”, or the way Satoru cackles as he carries you to your shared bedroom. Laying you gently on the mattress with a quiet, “Be right back, sweetheart.”
What the fuck happened?
He could’ve killed that man. And looked like he wanted to.
Your brain yells at you - run away run away run away- But you weren’t…scared? In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever been less fearful in your entire life. Especially not when Satoru stumbles back into the room, clearly rushing. Something warm spreading in your chest at the trays of food in his hands.
“Dinner’s better without a bunch of fossils on my kill list.” he grins. Settling right next to you on the bed, setting out the dinner he’d brought for you. And, well, you didn’t doubt that they really were on his kill list.
“Hey, wifey.” Satoru speaks up after a few moments of silence, satisfied with the food laid in front of you. “M’sorry for putting you through that. No more family dinners from now.”
You inch closer to lay your head on his sculpted shoulder, a hand bringing up the food to his pretty lips. He smelled so good, faintly like pine, and clouds. It made you so dizzy. “Eat, Satoru.”
That’s all which is said, because maybe that’s all that was needed. And for a second there, you almost forget that this is all pretend.
---
“Hey, uh- mister. You alright?” you call out, voice barely audible over the rain.
The sullen figure didn’t react at first, soaked through and eyes trained on the ground. Unmoving, even when you hesitantly drew closer, umbrella quivering in your hands.
You should turn around - walk away like everyone else on the sidewalk was doing. But no, something about the way he sat alone, stoic to the storm around him made you inch closer. “Here.” you hold out your umbrella. “S’our diner’s, but you look like you could use this more than I do.”
He jolts, as if hearing you for the first time. A flash of blue, so quick you almost think you miss it. Still not raising his head fully, the man’s snowy hair tousles as he jerkily closes around the handle. Pretty. And so so sad.
“It’ll be alright.” you nod.
And with that, you turn, running back in the rain to the haven of the diner, where your father was waiting impatiently - he’d just bought the boxes to start packing up for relocation. Fingers still burning ever-so-slightly where his hand had brushed against yours. How strange, you wondered his name.
---
Satoru stayed true to his word over the weeks that followed. His parents seemed well and fully intent on avoiding you. And, well, other than a few disdainful remarks, the elders mostly scurried away in fear at your very sight.
The only thing that made your skin prickle was that the housekeepers had a penchant for peeping in on the two of you. Increasingly following you - they always did, but now…honestly, it was a bit disconcerting.
But other than that, it was almost…peaceful. You wake up every morning to a large bouquet of burgundy roses at your bedside table - and a husband. Because Satoru had taken to sleeping on the little couch at the corner of your room every night - saying something about not wanting to rouse suspicion because if he actually had a wife he’d be “taking her to bed every night”. Somehow, you didn’t doubt it.
“Funny how it’s getting close to a month of being married, but you haven’t even kissed me yet.” you deadpan. Looking down at where he was resting his head in your lap, sprawled across the soft grass in the garden.
Something else also happened - something different.
Because Satoru was a bit touchier, a bit closer. Like right now, preening into your fingers carding through his soft hair. “Oh~? Why, wanna take me to bed, wifey?”
“You wish.”
“Maybe I do.”
Your hands still, pulse racing as your eyes bore into Satoru’s, trying to figure out what sort of bad joke this was. Subconsciously, you find yourself leaning down closer - too closer. Close enough that you could count every shade of blue in his hungry gaze. But by the grace of whoever was above-
“Young master, please excuse the intrusion but you have-”
Sitting up abruptly, addressing the newcomer in a stone-cold tone. “How many fuckin’ times have I not told you to never bother me when I’m with my wife?”
The servant bows apologetically, sputtering out apologies as you move to get up. Flashing a smirk at Satoru’s dramatic pout, “I have to catch up on some reading anyway. See ya, Satoru.”
“Noo~ my sweetheart don’t leave me~”
You stifle a laugh at his little tantrum, so different from when he was serious. He was so….dizzying. “You’ll be okay, Satoru.” Glancing up nervously to meet the servant’s intense stare, studying the scene before him, how different his master was. “I’ll be at the library now.”
And Satoru notices - of course, he does. He sees that tiny flash of concern in your eyes. One that you might not have noticed yourself. He lowers his voice as you walk away, so you don’t hear him speaking behind you. Words dripping with a similar venom he always heard from his parents, “Now, tell me who you’re spying for. Names, first and last.”
Satoru doesn’t join you in the library that day, the first time in weeks. And you find yourself missing him more than you should. It’s dark out by the time you’re raising your head from the books, joints aching from poring over them for hours. The house seems a lot quieter. Somewhat bigger.
Something was wrong. Something was wrong. Something was wrong.
Scratching the back of your head, you wander through the wooden hallways to your bedroom - wondering what was amiss. Your feet take you there as if on autopilot, thankful for Satoru’s meticulous tours.
“Hey,” you smile softly at a servant making your bed, “Where are-”
Your question dies in your throat at the way she yelps at your words, hurrying down the corridor with a jerky bow. Weird. Leaving you all alone, and confused, muttering to yourself, it’s only then that you notice the flash of red by your bedside table.
Not a bouquet. Only a single, red rose - a note tied around the stem, something you’d never gotten before.
“The marriage proposals have been revoked, your contract is fulfilled, my ex-wife.”
Oh, reading that hurt more than it should’ve. You should be happy at being free, a few days earlier than expected at that - but it was over - just like that. You didn’t want to leave him. You didn’t want to leave him.You didn’t want to leave him.
Were you going insane?
Clutching the flower like a lifeline, heaving out a sigh, “Maybe Satoru knows…”
“Thinking of me?”
Startled, you whirl behind to face your husband. In the dim-lighting, making out the stoney expression on his face, eyes wide and a little duller than they had been earlier today.
“Satoru?”
His eyes light up at the mere sound of your voice - then you’re engulfed in him. Wrapping you in his arms, bowing his body into yours, so tight that it almost hurts. But you let him, fisting the fresh yukata in your hands - and that’s when you realize, he’s changed his robes since this morning. “Are you okay?” you whisper into his shoulder. Drinking in the smell of his cologne, and something faintly metallic.
Every cell in your body is screaming at you to take the opportunity - to run away from this yakuza and his slaughter and whatever this was. But how could you? Staying rooted to the spot, not even a speck of fear.
Satoru heaves out a heavy breath, tickling the hairs at your nape as he pulls you impossibly closer. “Those nosy elders won’t be bothering you anymore, sweetheart. You’re free to go.”
A shudder runs down your spine at his words, and you didn’t want to think too hard about what they meant. Instead, you guide him to your bed - and, surprisingly, he allows you to. Letting the two of you sink into the plush mattress. With Satoru still in your arms. He repeats, “You’re free to go.”
Run away. Run away. Run away-
There it was again - that strained little manta. You stare right into his eyes, voice thick at the sinking feeling in your stomach. “My 30 days aren’t over yet.”
“Leave. Please.” he grunts into the crook of your neck, like your hands drawing patterns down his back had broken some dam. “M’not a good man.”
You press your lips to his forehead, searing and a desperate attempt to soothe the man. “I think I’ll be the judge of that.”
“I’m yakuza, sweetheart. Doomed to follow my parents here.” he mutters, strained and voice more unsure than you’ve ever heard. And once he started, it was like Satoru just couldn’t stop, rambling into your skin, “I hate it here, and you should, too. All these fuckin-”
“So go with me instead.”
“What if-”
“Toru.‘ you cut off his words, slurring and spilling out of his mouth. Gently, you pry him away from his little haven, reeling back to take a good look at the face he’s been hiding for so long. Hair mussed, curtaining his whirling eyes - all disheveled and vulnerable where he was once so suave.
Your eyes bore into his, unwavering. “It’ll be alright, Toru.”
And then he’s kissing you - and you’re kissing him. Only when his lips meet yours, soft, and so so sweet, do you realize that this is everything you ever want right now - possibly these past few weeks. “Y’can kill me if you don’ want his.” he mutters into your open mouth.
It’s so desperate - a messy clash of teeth and saliva, Satoru was drinking you in like you were the last drop of water on Earth. He tasted so sweet, like candy almost, and the gentle caress of a lover. You were addicted like you could do this forever and ever and-
And then he’s pulling away. A disappointed little whine leaves you involuntarily as he parts, delicate strings of saliva snapping in the space between you two. Satoru’s mouth drops into a soft oh! at the noise, surging forward minutely like he was about to kiss you senseless again. Only to halt with a pained grunt, just a hair’s breadth from your lips.
“M’sorry.” Claiming your lips once again, like a man possessed. Drinking in your breathless gasps. Like he never wanted to let go. “F-fuck, sweetheart. Y’don’t know how crazy you drive me.” he pants.
“Why did you pick me?” you blurt out, a question that had been nagging at the back of your mind every time Satoru slipped his hand in yours, introducing you as his loving wife. “Was it just the debt?”
He’s kissing your pulse now, canines hovering over the erratic little cadence. Breathing you in like you were intoxicating. “No.” he’s licking a long, languid stripe up your neck. Pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of skin he could reach.
“Then why?” your words come out in almost an embarrassing plea. But by the way his breath hitches, you know that Satoru loves it.
“Because.” he breathes, “You treated me like a human.”
He’s capturing your lips with his again, nipping at your bottom lips. You squeal as he pulls, suddenly wanting him to tease you like this everywhere. To have him absolutely ruin you like you know he could - treat you like the wife he claimed you were.
But Satoru wasn’t done yet - far from it. He chuckles, kissing down your neck, fumbling with the ties of your yukata, “Remember that night? You probably don’t, was rainin’ so hard I thought I’d drown out there.” Worshiping the valley between your breasts as he hastily unbuckles your bra. “That night was when the marriage proposals had come in. They said I’d either carry the legacy or be forced to leave the family. Kicked out of my own home.”
And you’re reeling from both his words and the way Satoru was rocking his hips into yours now, something hot, and so achingly hard pressing in the damp area between your legs. “Thought I was gonna take ‘em all out that night.”
“Take them all out?” your breath hitches.
“Every. Single. One.” Fingers dancing across the hem of your panties. “Wouldn’t have felt bad about it either.”
Satoru’s licking down your navel now, humming in confirmation into your skin. “But then…” he groans, taking in the first fucking sinful sight of your drenched panties. So flimsy and already dripping for him - and after just a few kisses, really? You were heaven on Earth. “But then along came you. So pretty and all worried f’me. The daughter of that diner owner I’d loaned money too.”
You watch, heart racing as Satoru swallows in awe. Darkened gaze locked on the way your slick beads out of your pussy, bare thighs trying to close - give yourself some semblance of dignity. But no- how could you? When Satoru’s holding them apart.
“And then I knew…” he’s sliding his index underneath your panties up and down, grazing your swollen folds. Pooling your sweet sweet juices on his fingertip before popping it into his mouth. Eyes fluttering shut at the taste, and you’ve never seen him look so blissful. “I just had to have you.”
Rip!
The cold air brushes against you before you even know it - only when you feel Satoru’s hot breath against your dripping cunt does it hit - this bastard just ripped your panties off. And he was dangling it like a badge of honor, breathing in your juices so animalistically.
Your lips wobble as he just admires your pussy, the way it glistens and clenches around nothing. “Hah- please.”
“Please what?” he grins, and you can feel him licking little circles around your inner thigh. So close. “The wife of a yakuza boss has gotta know how to use her words.”
“You’re awful.”
“And yet you married me.”
With such a cute lil’ whine that makes Satoru’s cock twitch so painfully, you buck your hips closer to his hot mouth. “Wan’ your mouth on me, to eat me out. Please, Toru.”
He lets out a shuddering breath, “There’s my girl.”
You gasp when he surges forward, burying his pretty face nose-deep in your pussy. Holding your breath as he lazily licks up your folds - long, sloppy movements of his tongue all the way from your base to your swollen clit. Swirling deftly around the sensitive nub.
Drunk off your pussy with the way he’s so messy - seemingly unable to decide between sucking harshly on your poor, ravaged clit to dipping into your sloppy hole. And it’s driving you mad, keening and pulling at his soft locks. You haven’t been touched this good in ages, and Satoru was well and fully intent on ruining you.
“Shhh, don’t worry, wifey.” words muffled into your cunt, “Your husband’s gonna take care of you.” He’s throwing your legs over his broad shoulders.
“Real good care of you.” Then he’s plunging knuckle-deep in your plushy pussy, the tips of his long fingers massaging your plushy walls. Messy enough that your slick is trailing down his wrist. Roaming for that one spot he knows will have you moaning deliciously. Pressing down, hard. “Found it. Gonna have you screamin’ my name til’ the entire estate hears.”
You tug on his hair, urging Satoru’s mouth towards your cunt - partially because you wanted him there, partially because you really needed him to shut up right now.
And shit how could he ever say no to his pretty wife?
Satoru is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his pretty pink lips around it. Pumping his fingers in and out, hitting that little spot each and every time. Looking like he was absolutely in heaven as he rolls and swirls his tongue against your clit over and over and-
“Sh-shit. Toru-”
“Mmm, yes- fuck, love it when you call me that.” he groans. And oh he’s looking at you like he wants to devour you - eyes half-lidded, such a pretty blush disting his cheeks - and making out with your pussy just as much. Tilting his head back, back, back so that your juices slide down his throat. “Feels good? Ya like when m’ruining your pretty pussy?”
“Yes!” you squirm. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Wanted it s’bad.”
He’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. But it wasn’t enough - it never was and fuck Satoru wanted more more more-
“Move your hips, yeah- jus’ like that.” Satoru’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. Letting you pull and angle him just as you please.
“Gonna be the best fuckin’ husband you’ll ever have. N’ anyone that says otherwise, m’gonna fuckin’ kill.” The vibrations have your body jerking violently. “Make you cum harder than y’ever have. C’mon, say yes.”
And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and bullying his tongue through your swollen folds. Stretching you, thrusting in and out of your sloppy hole. Jaw grinding deeper into you as he eats you out like his last meal. “Ngh- fuck, yes yes yes-”
“Beg for it, beg for your husband.”
“Wanna cum- Ah! Please, wanna cum, Toru.”
One hand so messy toying with your dripping entrance - not having the patience or the sanity to even draw circles anymore. Just quick, hurried patterns to get you off. The other digging into your hips, so hard you were sure it’d leave marks for tomorrow. Making you drag your sloppy pussy senselessly all over his mouth. Using him.
“Hngh- Toru! Ah- fuck fuck Toru Toru T-” You’re shaking - crying out as you cum. A guttural, strangled moan of your husband’s name. So violent, and hard that you don’t even realize at first. Just that you’re rocking your hips into Satoru, white-hot pleasure behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears.
And he doesn’t stop - not even once. If you were in any better state of mind you’d wonder whether it hurt - whether his fingers were cramping up, and his tongue was tired. If they were, he didn’t show, only letting you chase your high as roughly as you want.
Greedily lapping up all your juices. Even when you’re blinking your vision back, chest heaving as you try to regain our breath. “S-Satoru.” you mewl, stars behind your eyes with each flick of his tongue.
“Jus’ a bit more. Wanna taste all of you.”
You weren’t going to make it out alive.
Big, fat tears pricking at your eyes from the overstimulation as Satoru finally rises from what you almost worried would be his favorite seat. “All done. Now, keep that pretty lil’ cunt on display f’me, my girl.”
And your cunt is clenching in- fear? Anticipation? As your husband finally unties his yukata, letting it slide off those milky, toned shoulders. And shit he was such a fucking masterpiece. The dim-lighting bouncing off every curve and dip of those carved abs. Delicate swirls of his tattoo inching from his collarbone, down, down, down, hugging Satoru in a way that made you so half-lucidly jealous. All the way till the last inky thorn meets the neat tufts of white hair peeking up from the hem of his underwear.
“Touch me.” he groans into your ear. The words barely leave those pretty lips before your hands are everywhere. Dancing down his tattoo, groping at this pecs - too much to worship, not enough time.
“Toru…” you trail off, hand reaching out to brush his waistband. Tugging just enough that his throbbing cock springs out, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Red, and so so angry, fat tip weeping down his length, already so soaked in precum. He was so intimidatingly long - longer than anyone else you’d had before. Thick enough that you wondered whether you’d hurt yourself.
And he sees right through you.
“Now now, none of that.” he tuts, pushing your bare thighs as far apart as they’d go. He spreads your cunt so shamefully with his thumb. Spitting once, twice. Some of it splatter against your thigh as Satoru mixes his saliva with your slick. “Don’t worry, wifey, m’gonna make it feel good for ya.”
You flinch as he uses you like some object. Dangerously liking it more and more as he drags his fat head down your folds. Wetting himself, all the preparation he was going to give you because fuck Satoru needed to be inside your pretty lil’ pussy right now.
Then you feel like you’re being split apart - as if Satoru’s cock was pushing all the way to your lungs as he presses through the first ring of muscle.
“Ah! Ngh- Toru, s’too big!” you yelp, eyes locked on the way your lips were stretched so lewdly around his tip. Clamping and quivering as he keeps pushing in, inch by fucking inch. No mercy. Absolutely none at all.
And while he sounded like he was on cloud nine, you were having your head spin, torn between wanting to run away from his massive cock and just push yourself down for more more more. His lips claim yours - absolutely animalistic because God he needed to shut up your pretty whines or else Satoru was going to cum right here right now.
“Breathe, sweetheart, breath. Ngh- You can take it.” Satoru pants into your mouth, fucking into you in mindless, shallow little thrusts just to fit inside your snug cunt. Sounding like he was losing his sanity each time your heavenly walls milked him. “So fuckin’ tight. Jus’ relax f’me. Oh yeah, jus’ like that. You can take it you can-”
You gasp for air when he finally bottoms out inside you, tears streaming down your face and clawing at his back.
Satoru only coos, letting you mark him up all you want. Pace increasing relentlessly, “Aww, my good lil’ wife. Taking me so well, huh?” Starting to rock his hips just a bit faster into yours, “Always knew y’would.”
“Can y’feel me, right-.” Balls smacking against your ass, his finger tracing an invisible line halfway down your tummy. “-here?” Thumb stroking where he could feel himself bulging inside you, pressing down. Hard.
You almost sob at the pressure, jolting - you should’ve expected that the yakuza boss would fuck so mean.
And shit you can just do nothing but take it, hips jerking wildly as Satoru pounds into you with reckless abandon. Clutching at his shoulders, the sheets, his hair - just anything.
“C’mon~ Don’t run away from me,” he grunts, strained like he’s struggling to maintain restraint. Lacing his fingers on top of your head to slide you impossibly deeper onto his cock. “Jus’ fuckin’ got you, so don’t you dare run away.”
You can only nod. Eyes glazed, cockdrunk and letting him thrust so sloppily. “Won’t run away Toru…” you babble, “Wan’ you to make me yours.”
“Mine? Gonna be all mine?”
“All yours, Toru.”
And maybe you were an idiot, maybe you were a mastermind - because with a choked out little moan of what sounded like your name, Satoru’s pulling you both to sit up. The gravity makes you bury his cock deeper and faster into your tight pussy.
With the new angle, your husband’s hitting all the right spots easily, almost as if he knew your body better than you did. Veins rubbing so deliciously against your walls, shifting around your hips to fuck up into that poor, abused spot.
“Ya like this, huh?” he groans, fingers now toying with your ravaged clit. Rolling it around harshly between two fingers. “Always knew this cute pussy could take me s’well. Just didn’t know it would feel this fucking heavenly.”
Faster, sloppier. Bouncing you on his rock-hard cock like he was claiming you from the inside. So, so desperate and debauched.
And exactly where you wanted to be.
You leave delicate pink bites down this pale neck, alongside those roses - marking him in your own way as you edge closer and closer. It was too much. Everything was too much.
“Toru-” you sob. And he already knew what that meant. With how your voice breaks so adorably and the way you’re clenching around him hard enough that it’s almost difficult to ruin that cute pussy.
“Close?”
“Mhm…”
“Well then.” thrusts getting sloppy, with no reason or rhythm now. Grip on your body tightening like a vice. “Cum f’me like a good lil’ wife, then.”
And that makes you throw your head back in ecstasy - it makes you cum. Thighs quivering, jolts of electricity running down all the way from your overstimulated cunt to your hazy mind. It has you chanting Satoru’s name like a lifeline while his teeth dig into your flesh. Hard enough that you distinctly wondered whether he was out for blood.
Letting out low, muffled moans into your neck while he cums as well. Hot ropes of seed filling up your poor, bloated pussy, painting your walls such a sinful white. Cumming and cumming so hard you wondered whether you’d make it out alive.
And because of the obscene position, you could feel the way it dribbled down your legs. Thick globs landing in a pool on the overpriced sheets below, smearing so lewdly between you two. Hips still fucking up into you - not even thinking about it as he pushes his seed deeper and deeper.
You managed to raise your eyes, still dazed to meet his - exhausted, and dark with lust and something else that you really weren’t in the right mind to decipher right now.
And then Satoru’s lips find yours again, biting and tugging lazily. Tasting so unfairly of candy and sweet, sweet trouble. Body melting into you like all the worries have been lifted from his shoulders. He’s looping his arms tighter around your waist, crushing you into an almost-painful hug against him.
Something soft. Something new. Something that makes a little part of your heart twinge to break the kiss and pull away mere millimeters. “We better not divorce after this.”
“Of course not.” He chuckles into your lips, resting his forehead against yours like he was trying to map the constellations in your eyes. “I haven’t even given you my wedding gift yet.”
Smirking, you lock your legs tighter around Satoru’s toned waist as he lets the two of you fall back into the mattress. Sinking into it - and each other - with both exhaustion and something of a quiet, unspoken little fondness. Batting your lashes up at him, “Mhm, I remember someone talking about giving me four mercedes as a wedding gift and I’m leaving if not.”
“Well then, better get to it. Four for my in-laws to get on their good side, too,” he nuzzles the bite mark on your neck. “Because I plan to stay like this for a long, long time.”
A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.
#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk#jjk fic#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#tonywrites
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Hello sweetie, hoping you're doing well! What about bully punk Miguel and nerd pastel girl reader at college? (Miguel with 23 and reader with 21) Like reader was ugly and will have a glow up thanks to MJ and now Miguel tries to have her attention, they have a date and sweet and fluff smut!! (reader is virgin uwu) I'll let to you the creativity
Impurities
hello sweetheart you absolute DARLING i genuinely could be better but i hope ur doing great. i want to apologize for taking so long but i want u to know when i saw this i just about melted bc punk miguel is one of my guilty pleasures i adore him so much. this ask made me want to evolve it into a series i had like several different ways to make this but ahhhh i hope it's alright
Punk!Miguel x Pastel!Reader, Fluff and Smut, Word Count: 8,875
Art by: beawoodward on artstation !
You knew you weren’t the most appealing girl out there. You weren’t about to delude yourself otherwise. You knew what people said about you, how they looked at you. Your face could’ve been worse. Maybe some bushy eyebrows? You dressed…maybe a little different than most people. While the world was covered in grays and black, you opted out by showering yourself in the cutest pastel colors. You didn’t keep up with the trends and instead followed whatever you thought looked alright. It often led to some mismatching and awkward outfits but you didn’t think so!
You entered campus with a light blue and pink striped pants with a pink belt and a baby blue sweater. Two low braids tied with white ribbons at the end and your white framed glasses on the bridge of your nose. Skincare was confusing to you so all you really did was wash your face with a harsh cleanser and hoped for the best which gave you some acne instead–making you pop them and leave some scars. You tried makeup but it just looked cakey so you settled with a messy and often uneven eyeliner.
Regardless of your outfit, whether in a skirt or in pants, you were always decked out in some bright pastel colors and hair done in the same two braids. You held yourself close while walking around the halls, already used to people staring and calling you names from high school. College was a little more merciful, the whispers being just as loud but at least they’d never bully you to your face. You win some, you lose some.
Your self-esteem had been damaged to the point of no return anyway, so any attempts of trying to prove you’re worth something would just be a pipe dream in your eyes. That’s why you push your glasses up and cling to your shoulder bag tightly in your fist as you pass by the usual group of boys to get to the front seat of your class.
Your human biology class door was opened at the back so you’d have to pass the back seats to sit at the front. As usual, the group of boys were basically monochrome except for the little specks of red or blue if they ever decided to add color. But what was most noticeable about them was the so-called leader of said group.
Unofficial–official– leader Miguel O’Hara, the senior who decided to take general education classes in his last year before graduating. His usual confident and toothy grin was on display, silver spider bites that his, also pierced, tongue would often play with. His big and heavy platform boots would rest on the chair beside him while his left elbow rested on the table, his hand combing through his long brown hair–shaved at the sides, mind you. He made sure to push his fringe back so everyone could see his double eyebrow and nostril piercing.
Miguel’s hands were decorated with rings, big and small and his nails were short and painted black with some of it chipping off. His usual leather jacket with pins and patches, stretched and tight from his muscular build, was accompanied by a low red tank top with a spider symbol on the front. Black skinny jeans and a spiked belt that did little to actually keep his pants in place since the black and red band of his boxers were showing.
He listened mindlessly to his group of friends as they talked with each other, his fingers switching between playing with the dangling earring on his earlobe to his industrial bar. His crimson eyes glanced up when he saw you in your uncomfortably bright and awkward fashion sense. His friend tapped his shoulder and jutted his chin out to you before whispering something in Miguel’s ear that made him shove him away with a smile. Then they both laughed as quietly as possible, chuckling at what you decided to wear today: light blue overall shorts and a pastel yellow undershirt with white knee high stockings and white sneakers, your usual white ribbons at the end of your braids.
You usually sat alone at the front, placing your earbuds in to listen to music while you waited for the professor. Despite being at the front, you could still hear some faint chuckling and words being whispered from Miguel's group.
Still, you held your head up, taking out your notebook and expensive textbook. Clicking your pen, you began some light note taking before class started.
You sighed as you entered back in your dorm, dumping your bag at the door and kicking off your shoes. You faceplated down onto your bed while your roommate MJ looked over at you sympathetically.
You turn your head, cheek squished against the mattress. “I know that beauty is subjective and I'm not supposed to earn validation from anybody else but…” You sit up and rest on your legs, hands wringing in your hands with furrowed eyebrows.
“But…I want to feel pretty.” You admit softly, ashamed since you felt like you were betraying yourself.
MJ's smile grows and she eagerly jumps from her bed to kneel at your bedside. She takes your hands in hers and squeezes them reassuringly.
“You are pretty,” She insists. “But if you really want help, I can.” MJ tilts your head to look at her, a soft smile on her face.
You nod. “I do. I just want to know how to look like you.”
MJ shakes her head. “No. No, you already have your own beauty.” She places a hand on her chest. “I meant that I can help enhance it. No change to your core is necessary.” She pokes at your chest playfully and you both giggle together.
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
You take a moment to look at her. MJ really was perfect–shiny straight red hair, clear skin that was painted with freckles and a winning white smile. You hoped she could work some magic on you.
“Okay.”
Your transformation didn't happen overnight. It took at least a few weeks for it all to come together.
MJ had dragged you to salons to get your hair properly taken care of. Gotten your eyebrows plucked, eyelashes lifted, an effective skincare routine–that you struggled to drill into your regular schedule–and a new wardrobe that still held your pastel look, just a little more flattering. She even helped you get some contact lenses so you wouldn’t need your glasses all the time! To tie it all together, you two spent nights practicing how to do your makeup that wouldn't look so wobbly and uneven.
Each day, you improved yourself. Your tacky overalls changed into fitted jeans or flowy skirts. Your baggy shirts were now cute tops that hugged each curve. Tennis shoes into heels or cute sneakers and your hair came to life with a beautiful shine; your white ribbon still in your hair.
One day, you entered class like normal. Except there were very few whispers this time, almost nonexistent. Still, you don’t let it get to you and continue like normal–walking to the front of the class and sitting in your usual spot. What wasn’t normal was a figure coming up beside you and pulling out the chair next to you.
Miguel slipped beside you in front of the class, tilting his head as he stared at your side profile. You tried not to react but you subconsciously glanced at him from the corner of your eye.
“Hey.” He smirked, his eyebrow raising and his lips curling.
“Hello.” You murmured back, opening your notebook to the next blank page.
“New look?” He asked, using his hand to brush your hair back off your shoulder and you stiffened. He noticed you still had the white ribbon at the back of your head. Miguel’s eyes glanced back down at your body. Nicely fitted flare baby blue jeans, a cute pastel green heart belt with a crop top white sweater.
“Looks good.” He purred. You held your blue bunny pen in your hand tightly, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t understand why he was speaking to you. He hadn’t before–other than laugh at you–so what gives?
“Thanks.” You say curtly. Miguel places a hand over her heart in feign hurt.
“Don’t be like that, nena. You look so cute, I didn’t expect you to be so cold.” He teased. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them to look up at you while you wrote the rest of your notes down before class started.
Miguel watched as your false eyelashes fluttered, making your eyes look bigger. The subtle blush on your cheeks and the concealer that hid most of your past acne. He could still see some of the scars which makes him huff a small laugh at how cute it kinda looks. Your lips were more plump than he remembered–a soft pink to them.
He lifts his arm up to rest his cheek on his fist, his eyes still on you.
“How about I take you out?”
Your pen slips and leaves a slash right down your notes. “What?”
“A date. Does that sound good?”
You don’t look up, instead focusing on your task at hand. “No. Can you please just leave me alone?”
Miguel doesn’t say anything else but you hear the chair he sat on scrape across the floor as he gets up abruptly. You hear the laughter of his friends behind you and Miguel snapping at them. Your shoulders hunch over–the natural instinct to hide from embarrassment overcoming you again.
Every week, in the same class, Miguel would try again and again and again to ask you out. Each time, you would decline.
It had gotten bad enough where he changed his seat to move beside you, offering his help when he saw you were confused and overall just trying to get on your good side. You wanted to be strong, truly you did, but it was becoming too much.
When Miguel had asked again, you sighed loudly and faced him.
“If I say yes will you leave me alone?”
Miguel broke into a wide smile.
Once you finally agreed to a date with him, you truly weren’t expecting anything good. So you stood by the place Miguel wanted you to meet him at: a local diner that was pleasantly pretty looking from the outside.
Still, due to your past experiences of being ghosted and stood up, you watched the time on your phone. You decided that you wouldn’t wait more than fifteen minutes max.
To your surprise, you didn’t have to wait at all. You heard Miguel call your name from your left, his lips curled into a confident smile. Subconsciously, you eyed him up and down. He had baggy black cargo pants, accompanied with chains on his right side. A DIY-ed t-shirt that was sprayed painted over many many times. Of course, his iconic leather jacket was littered with various pins and patches. When he was close enough, you saw just a bit of eyeliner surrounding his eyes; and a new septum piercing.
For the people passing by, it was quite a sight to see. Compared to Miguel’s dark but proud aura, you emanated a more sweet and bright vibe. MJ had helped you pick out an outfit, excited that you approached her with the dilemma of going on a date.
You wore a sheer baby blue crop top cardigan with a simple white tank top underneath. A slightly darker blue pleated skirt with white thigh high stockings and ankle strap baby blue platform pumps. You held a small purse in your hands and looked up at him through your lashes. Your hair was pinned in a half up and half down hairstyle; your white ribbon at the back of your head. You thought it was a bit much, but MJ assured you that it was just enough.
“Te ves muy hermosa.” Miguel speaks up, a grin on his lips. “All for me?” He teases with a tilt of his head. A piece of his fringe falling over his forehead.
“Oh, please.” You look off to the side, ignoring the flutter in your chest when called beautiful.
Miguel doesn’t take it to heart, instead going past you to open the door of the diner. He dramatically takes a bow, his arm ushering you inside. The theatrics make the corner of your lips quirk up and you enter inside, nodding to Miguel.
You turn your head around to see the inside, wooden chairs and tables, a jukebox at the back with a shiny bar.
“This way.” You stiffen when you feel Miguel’s breath by your ear. Before you could turn, he places his hand on your lower back and leads you to a booth by the window. He sits across from you, menus at the ready on the table.
“You know, I used to come to this place all the time.” Miguel says, his eyes scanning the different options. “Used to be a hangout spot for me and the others in high school. College took up my time so it’s a pain in the ass not being able to visit more.”
You glance up at him, shuffling in your seat. It felt a little weird to have him speak to you like this, as if he wasn’t teasing you a few months ago.
Luckily, a waitress comes up before you two with a notepad in hand. “Oh! A pretty girl! Didn’t know you were back in the dating scene.” She cackles to herself and pushes her glasses up.
Miguel groans and rolls his eyes. “I thought you didn’t work Fridays, Lyla.”
“Margo couldn’t make it, I needed extra hours–and now a bonus– I get to embarrass you. Everybody wins! Except you maybe. Waddaya want?” Lyla rests on one foot, her grin plastered on her face. Miguel’s smile was long gone, now snapping his order at his friend.
You watched with an amused smile. They bantered like siblings. But what she said piqued your interest. He hadn’t gone around dating?
You were snapped out of your thoughts when you heard Miguel call your name. His eyes were uncharacteristically soft.
“Do you need another minute?” He asks. You stumble over your words and feel your cheeks burn.
“No-no, uhm…” You look down at your menu and pick the first thing you see. “The, uh, chicken fajitas, please?”
Lyla meets you with a smile and collects your menu. “Of course, darling.” She turns to take Miguel’s menu. “Couldn’t you have taken her to a nicer place? She’s all dolled up.” Lyla sticks her tongue out at him and walks away while Miguel’s cheeks burn red. Instead of facing you, he looks down at his hands and he picks at his black nail polish.
For once, Miguel had stayed silent. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he looked a little ashamed? Embarrassed? You could see him moving his spider bites nervously as he stares at anything besides you, his cheeks still tinged red.
You pat your skirt awkwardly and clear your throat. “The…I like the diner. It’s got one of those retro vibes to it. It’s cool.” You give a small encouraging smile. For some strange reason, you thought his quietness didn’t suit him.
Miguel’s eyes dart to yours and then at the window. “You think?” His hand reaches up to play with his dangling earring. It was almost cute. Just a bit.
You chuckle softly. “Yeah, I mean. It’s like being in one of those time machines.”
Miguel smiles. “Time machines? I think a time machine would look cooler than this dump.”
You playfully smack his hand across the table. “Didn’t you say you used to come here years ago? Don’t call it a dump.” You fold your arms on your chest.
You didn’t know this, but Miguel in that moment felt the tension he didn’t realize he had fell off his shoulders.
“Eh, it’s a little bit of a dump.” He leans back and stretches his arm on the backseat. “But it’s like you said: a little retro.”
Lyla returns with two glasses of water. “One for the cutie,” she places one on your side, giving you a wink. “And then Miguel.” She unenthusiastically hands Miguel the cup.
Miguel frowns at Lyla, a familiar bubble of jealousy brewing in his chest. “Lyla.” He warns.
“What?” She stretches out the word. “Just being a good hostess.” She huffs with a pout and walks away.
You giggle to yourself and Miguel notices. He’s quick to speak.
“Ignore her. She’s always trying to be annoying.” He didn’t like the way Lyla was buttering you up, even if it was just a joke. He wanted you to smile at him like that.
“It’s funny. I never thought I’d see you looking so bothered. How do you know her?” You smile and take a sip from your water.
Miguel scratches the back of his head. “Middle school. We were in the robotics club.”
You blink. “Robotics club? Really?”
“Why’re you so surprised? What? A guy like me can’t be into things like that?” He smirks, placing his arms on the table and his pins rattle as he moves.
“Well…kind of?” You smile weakly and laugh when Miguel pretends to be hit. “No, but seriously, robotics isn’t what I expected from you.”
“Well, it was middle school. I’ve grown up into a man. This time I’ve taken an interest in being a geneticist.” He rests his head on his hand. “Don’t judge a book by its cover, nena.” He teases but you pause. That phrase is a little ironic for him to say, you thought to yourself. Shaking off that feeling, you continued to chat with Miguel. Talking about your interests, past, future and current studies. All while Miguel would try to sneak little touches, whether it be his boot tapping your heel or his hand brushing against yours when handing you a bottle of ketchup.
After spending enough time at the diner, the sun was beginning to set. Before you left, Lyla convinced you to convince Miguel to give her a big tip and told you she hopes to see you again in different circumstances.
Miguel holds the door open for you again and the bell dings your departure from the diner. His fingertips gently brush against yours, catching your attention.
“There’s…there’s this other place I wanna show you.” He bites his lip, peeling off the skin. His index finger loosely wraps around your pinky.
“Sure…” You say hesitantly.
He notices your hesitance. “It’s nearby. Just for a little bit and I’ll take you home.”
The wind breezes through, giving you a glimpse of the cool air that will befall once nighttime arrives. You shiver and tuck into yourself to hide from the wind. Miguel takes off his jacket and slips it around you. Feeling the heavy material on your shoulders, you look up at him and feel the warmth go around your torso. Miguel’s eyes are focused on making sure it’s snug as it can be. It’s so large that it ends around your midthigh.
He takes your little purse and pops the collar of his jacket up. “Put your arms through the sleeves so it doesn’t fall.”
You blink and do as he says with a flustered expression. While shuffling your arms through the holes, you try not to glance over at him. His t-shirt was cut at the sleeves that showed off his toned arms. Despite the cold approaching, he seemed to be relaxed as he watched you, making sure you stayed warm.
“Good?” He asked. Your fingers barely poked out, his jacket covering most of your outfit. And it was warm. It smelled like him.
With a satisfied smile, he slyly takes your hand in his and leads you away. You try not to focus too hard on the way his hand engulfs yours.
After following Miguel in twists and turns, you eventually walk up a hill and at the very top stood a single bench with a view of the entirety of Nueva York. Your eyes widened and you let go of his hand to approach near the ledge, placing your hands on the railing.
The lights of the city illuminated the night sky and acted as stars. You saw them twinkle along with hover cars that zoomed past you.
“This is…”
“Where I planned to take you another day. But Lyla pissed me off and I wanted to prove that I could take you somewhere nice.” He comes behind you and slings an arm around your waist.
You look up at him with an amused smile. “Did you really take that to heart?”
Miguel pouts his lips, his eyes looking off to the side. “I couldn’t let her make me look stupid in front of you.”
You laugh, using the sleeves of his jacket to cover your smile. Miguel sees and he has a faint smile of his own on his face. He leads you back to the bench where you two sit in quiet comfortable silence after an afternoon of learning about one another.
As you look over at the city with him, you couldn’t help but notice the nagging feeling in your chest. This was a date. A date that only happened because you changed yourself. A date with the person who laughed at you.
“Hey, Miguel?” You speak up quietly. He hums and looks over at you.
“I…I don’t want you to be nice to me just because I got a little…prettier.” Miguel looks down at you with a frown. He stuffs his hands in his pockets while he looks back at the skyline.
He says your name softly to grab your attention. “I’m not being nice just because you’re pretty.”
You scrunch your eyebrows and scoff. “Yeah, I’m sure all those times you laughed at me was just you being a charmer.”
“Laugh at you?” He raises his eyebrows and you look away. “Nena, I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Don’t lie to me, Miguel. I’m used to it. No use in sparing my feelings.” You sigh.
“But I wasn’t,” He insists. He wants to reach for your hand, to touch you but he stops himself. “Really, I was…admiring you.”
You roll your eyes. “Now you’re really being a jerk. There was nothing to admire when I looked…stupid and ugly.”
“You did not.” He turned you to face him by turning your chin softly.
“So you’re saying the way I looked before wasn’t stupid?” You glare at him but Miguel can’t find it in him to take it badly.
“You were cute. The way you dressed and looked, it was awkward–sure–but it was adorable.” He chuckles but your frown deepens, feeling the tears bubble up in your eyes as you turn away from him. Miguel calls your name again.
“I’m the last person to judge anyone for how they dress. Look at me.” Miguel flicks his multiple ear piercings, pulls on his snake bites, stretches his tattered and ruined t-shirt and slams his dirty platform boots to the ground. “A freak. You were just a cuter version.”
“Then why did you talk to me now?” You murmur.
“Because you suddenly changed. I wanted to know what was up.”
“And…the sudden date?”
“Your transformation gave me the courage to speak to you. It was my chance–an excuse to talk to you.” Miguel says softly. “Though you did reject me twelve times. I was starting to lose hope.”
“It was not twelve times.”
“It felt like twelve times.”
“...You have to admit that I’m…much more appealing now than I was before.”
Miguel sighs. “Nena, the only thing different about you is clear skin and some clothes. Everything else is still you. You were pretty underneath, you just enhanced it. At your core, you’re still you. Bright and colorful.” He bumps your shoulder.
You smile shyly and look in your lap. “MJ said something similar.”
“MJ?”
“My roommate. She helped me with, y’know, everything.” It was still hard to believe. Over two decades of being told otherwise was not going to go away by a single conversation but it still warmed your heart to hear something positive about you for once.
You don’t say anything else and Miguel takes his chance to wrap his arm around you, bringing you to his chest. With flushed cheeks, you look out into the open where the skyline is feeling at peace and just a little pretty.
You two had arrived at your dorm and you faced Miguel shyly. Your eyes looked at the ground as you felt your cheeks heat up.
“This is my place.” You state and Miguel chuckles, the sound of it sending your heart pumping.
“I see that.” He says, taking a step toward you which makes you take a step back.
“I had fun.” You whisper softly, your eyes landing on his chest. You see Miguel’s hand lift up to your chin and make you look into his eyes. Your cheeks burn since he keeps his hand on your chin to make sure you wouldn’t look away.
“Me too.” He murmured, his red eyes looking like they turned a darker shade when he glanced at your lips. He takes another step towards you and you take another step back. You feel your head hit the door and realize you’re now trapped between it and him.
You hold your breath and can only feel the pounding of your heart in your chest and Miguel’s calloused fingers holding you still. Miguel then uses his other hand to hold your hip, his thumb trying to slide under your tank top. Your hands raise up to hold onto his biceps, shivering when your skin meets his. He was warm.
“I…kind of don’t want this to end.” You admit softly. Miguel’s grin grows wider, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek which makes you weak in the knees.
“Then it doesn’t have to, muñequita.” His hand leaves your chin to cup your cheek. He glances up above your head. “Your roommate home?” He asks. Your eyes never leave his face, your pupils dilating and a weird feeling starting to brew in your stomach.
“No,” You squeak out and he looks back down at you. “She’s–She’s, um, out with her boyfriend.”
Miguel hums, another glance to your lips. “Then…will you invite me inside?” He asks, leaning down so his lips just barely graze yours. Not quite a kiss yet.
Your breath hitches and you nod a few times before speaking. “Mhm, okay.” You reach your hand behind you to grab the doorknob and twist it open. You stumble backwards but Miguel quickly wraps his arm that was on your hip around your waist. He then makes you walk backwards while he could shut the door behind him. You had your arms around his neck and looked up with wide eyes and a fast paced heartbeat.
Miguel huffs out a chuckle. “You okay?”
“Mhm!” You squeak.
He squints down at you in playful suspicion but brushes it off. He bends down to where his lips brush yours again and finally dips low enough to kiss you. Your first shared kiss.
You stumble with how to kiss, especially when the other person has piercings, but with someone like Miguel, you quickly learn and get the hang of it. Soft kissing noises sound between the small space of you two and he gradually moves from your lips to your cheek and down your neck. His arms around your waist tug you closer, bending you back and he moves you further back to where your calves hit the mattress of your bed.
One hand rises up to pull his leather jacket off your shoulder, gently nibbling across your skin before reverting back to your throat. With his lips on your neck, Miguel could feel your pulse going wild, heartbeat going crazy each second. He decides to check in.
“You okay?” he murmurs with a smile, his lips finding yours again for quick kisses.
“Yeah, yeah, I’ve just–” kiss “Just–” kiss “Y’know, never–” kiss, kiss “Done this before.”
He pauses, stiffening before he pulls back. “Wait. Are you saying this would be your first time…having sex?”
Your heart sinks. That was bad wasn’t it?
“No, it’s not bad.” Miguel shakes his head. You didn’t realize you voiced your concerns. “I’m just surprised, is all. Usually people have done it already.”
You look away from him, visibly uncomfortable that he’s lowkey making fun of you. Miguel realizes the damage and quickly tries to fix it.
“But there’s nothing wrong with it, nena! I didn’t mean–” He sighs, scratching the back of his neck. He looks around your dorm room. Your side is filled with cute things like plushies and fluffy blankets–a strawberry duvet all in the same hue of pastels.
“Look. We don’t have to do anything. I don’t…want to make it seem like I’m only here for that.” He shrugs his leather jacket back on your shoulder. “Because I do like you, nena. I’m willing to wait or if you never want it then it’s whatever. I just would really like a second date at least. Maybe at a nicer place like what Lyla said. Maybe I could clean myself up.” He gives you a weary smile.
You stare at his hands that hold onto the zipper part of his leather jacket. For a while, you don’t say anything.
“What if I don’t want to wait.” You mumble. You look up with some determination on your face. “I…I want to. With you.”
Miguel takes his hands off you. “Wh–Are…are you sure?”
You slip his jacket off you and let it fall to the side, stripping off the first piece of clothing from yourself. Your mouth is tight, heart hammering in your chest and cheeks feeling that familiar prick of heat up your neck but you’re sure of yourself. You want this.
Miguel rakes his eyes up and down your body as you stand before him. “Alright.” He breathes out, undeniably attracted to you at this moment. “But this will all be at your pace, okay? I’ll make you feel good.” He purrs resting his hands at your hips and your facade crumbles slowly and you get shy again.
He sits you down on your bed and he kneels before you, his hands on your thighs. He takes your right foot in his hands and carefully unbuckles the ankle strap of your pumps and slides it off. You cover your mouth, heart pounding at the intimate yet innocent act of him taking off your heels. He does the same with your other heel and sets it to the side.
Miguel then looks up at you from his lashes, his confident ones meeting your bashful ones. Taking your right leg again, he slips your thigh high stocking off you and does the same for your other leg. He places his hands on your knees and slowly spreads your legs apart to give you time to stop him. You don’t.
“Come closer, mami.” He murmurs, sliding his hands up to grip the flesh of your thighs. You let out a weak mewl and scoot closer to the edge of your bed.
Miguel bunches your skirt up, groaning and feeling his cock twitch in his pants when his eyes land on your pastel pink panties, a sweet little bow in the middle like you were a present for him.
“Tan bella,” He murmurs, unable to hide the utter desire he has for you. You cover your face in embarrassment as he spreads your legs wider. His lips graze over your thighs, pressing kisses as he makes his way up. You feel your heart skip a beat everytime you feel his warm breath. Your hands clutch your strawberry sheets and he notices.
“You can hold onto me, mami.” He purrs and you swallow the lump in your throat.
“Wha…how do I..?” You feel stupid, your hands raising up and unsure of where exactly to put them. Miguel takes your hands and places him in his hair. His fingers curl around yours so you could grip onto his strands.
Feeling your face burn, the sight of you holding onto him while his eyes bore into yours. You instinctively clench your fists, his hair being tugged on in the process which makes him groan and close in his eyes. He likes a bit of pain, it seems
Miguel's hands return to your thighs, wrapping his arms underneath to tug you closer to his awaiting mouth and to keep your legs apart. “Hips up, mama.” He purrs and you do as he says, making him slip your panties off.
He discards them off to the side and delves between your thighs. His nose nudges your nub and you gasp, pursing your lips and gripping tighter on his hair.
“Miguel!” You whimper and he hums in response. You feel the metal ball of his tongue piercing curl inside you–it was strangely pleasurable. You didn’t expect it to feel so good. You rest on one hand behind you, the other still planted in his hair as you bucked forward on his tongue.
Miguel the munch that he is, grins against your folds and licks a long stripe up before spitting and devouring your sweet nectar again. You felt the sudden slimy wetness hit your nerves and you yelped in surprise. Just as quick, you fall into submission when his skilled tongue swirled in little number eights.
Your eyes were closed shut, your hand pulling Miguel closer to which he obliged. He then surprises you by sticking one of his thick fingers inside you.
“Oh my…god.” You moan, your body growing hot and sweaty underneath all your clothing. “Miguel…”
Miguel’s mouth moves in rhythm, his lips kissing your pussy as he drinks whatever your sweet cunt offers him. He could stay like this forever, cleaning your mess up and licking you for all eternity. His rings nudge your folds, the metal a stark contrast from his rough fingers. He pumps a second finger inside and it’s a bit of a stretch that feels good enough for you to thrust harder.
“Mmm, yes…oh, I’m so close…” You mumble to yourself, chest heaving as you come closer and closer to climax.
Unexpectedly, Miguel pulls away from between your legs. The pleasure being ripped from you and you struggle to lift your head as he pulls off you. The look in his eyes is different. More lustful, more hungry.
“If you’re gonna cum, I want you cumming around my cock.” He groans and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Miguel stands up and gets into bed with you, shoving his platform shoes and pants off. While he gets on top, you rest back into your bed and your eyes become big and wide–darting between his face and between his legs.
“Is it–will it hurt?” You bring your hands to your chest, clutching the fabric of your tank top. Miguel lifts your chin up to him. His eyes are kind and soft.
“It’s not supposed to. I’ll make sure it won’t.” He grabs the waistband of your skirt and tugs it off your legs, throwing it with the other forgotten clothes. His hands make his way up your body, helping you remove the sheer cardigan and sliding your tank top up and over your head. Miguel chuckles at the heart patterned bra you wore.
He leans over to kiss your neck and you sigh. The feeling of his lips sucking and tongue licking you was surprisingly pleasurable. Instinctively, your reach around his shoulders to hold onto him, your back arching to be chest to chest with him. Miguel’s hands go under your back, holding you up while he quickly unclasps the bra. Feeling the loss of your support, you whine but Miguel kisses you before you become louder. He places you back down on your back and finally removes the last piece of clothing.
Miguel admires you from above, his hands at your waist, rubbing up and down your sides as he feels your curves. “Perfecta. Eres mucha mujer.” He whispers while trailing his lips along your collarbone.
You whimper, feeling your cheeks burn and grow hot to the touch. His breath ghosts over your breasts and he stares up at you maintaining eye contact. Miguel notices something in your hair; your white ribbon, still tied in your messy hair. His heart swells and smiles, reaching up to brush your hair away.
He kisses down the valley of your breasts and around your nipple. He glances up at you every so often to make sure you’re not feeling any sort of discomfort. He can feel your heart pounding underneath his palm. Miguel wraps his lips around your nipple and sucks softly. You gasp and hold your breath for a moment while his cold tongue piercing swirled around your nipple, his spider bites and nose piercing pressed against the softness of your tits. You stare up at the ceiling as the warmth in your body flooded down to your core.
“Oh! M..Miguel…” You whined, your hands curling in his hair where you felt most comfortable. Miguel flicks his finger around your other nipple, pulling and bullying it until it becomes erect and perky. Even then, he twists it and gropes your tit in time with his sucking and biting.
Your hips buck up, feeling your pussy throbbing uncomfortably. When you hit his bulge, Miguel moaned and grinded himself to your soaked pussy in soft circles. Your juices left a stain on his boxers in your desperate attempts at relief. He lets go of your tits–leaving a small bite mark– and continues to kiss down your body.
“Gracias a Dios por mandarme esta belleza.” He murmurs, digging his hands into the plush of your hips when he raises your thighs up.
Suddenly, he stops and lets go of you. “Shit, shit, fuck–hold on.” He mumbles and gets off you. You feel cold and watch as he gets off the bed and picks up his pants from the floor and searches through his pockets.
“Did I…do something?” You ask, worried you might’ve done something that made Miguel regret touching you.
He shakes his head. “No, no–just–ah, there it is…” He chuckles to himself after finding his wallet and pulling out a small square packet. He pushes his fringe back with one hand as he gets back into bed. Miguel shuffles down his boxers after putting the packet between his teeth. “I’ll get you pregnant some other time.”
“What?”
“What?”
You close your mouth and hear ringing in your ears. You were sure that steam would be coming out of your head at this point–your mind felt like mush with how easily flustered he made you. Miguel looks down at you and huffs a small laugh, letting you know he was joking. Maybe. Hopefully.
His cock springs free once his boxers are off and he groans when it slaps his stomach, leaving a bead of his precum on his tip. Your eyes shamelessly stare at him. You were by no means an expert when it came to sex but you grew both worried and aroused at how massive he was.
“There is…no way it’s gonna fit.”
Miguel rips the plastic with his teeth and rolls the condom on his dick to the base. For a moment, you’re disappointed that he added protection. Just for a moment, though. He breathes out and gives soft strokes to his shaft while looking at you from beneath him.
He feels his cock pulse and throb, growing harder by the second just by the sight of your perfectly sculpted naked body. He thought you were divine. Placing his hands on either side of your head, he leans down to kiss you as if trying to ease your worries.
“It’ll fit, I promise. It’ll feel so good, too.” He whispers, his lips brushing against yours. “I’ll go slow.”
He takes one hand to lift your thigh up just enough to give him space to rub his cock between your wet folds.
“Miguel…!” You gasp while you feel just how hard he was.
He shushes you. “I know, nena. Look what you do to me. Feel what you did to me.” He buries himself in your neck, nipping at your skin and you tilt your head back. More of your arousal soaks his cock, creating wet sounds while you grind on each other and Miguel shudders. He bites into your shoulder and fights against his instinct to shove his cock inside and fuck you into your own mattress.
Miguel kisses the spot he bit, his breathing labored and heavy. “Tell me if it hurts, mama, okay?”
You nod, your eyes screwed shut. “Uh-huh…”
Slowly, Miguel looks down and makes sure his tip splits your folds apart as he enters inside you. Your breath hitches and you tighten your arms around his neck. “Miguel!” You whine while he penetrates you. He kisses your temple and stops when only his tip is inside you.
“You’re doing great, nena. No te preocupes, lo estás haciendo bien.” He reassures you with a shaky voice. It’s clear he’s holding back. You whimper apologies and Miguel kisses across your cheeks to try and return your focus on him instead of the new stretch you’re feeling. He praises you in a mix of Spanish and English–ones you can barely hear.
He moves his hand down between your legs and gently rubs your clit with your thumb in hopes of loosening you up. With the added stimulation, you moan and hide in his neck with your eyes shut. You weakly thrust up, feeling a bit of relief and allowing Miguel to push further in.
“Good, good,” He purrs. “Just like that, mama. Just let me in.” He groans and hisses when you clench around him. Miguel’s thumb switches between a fast and slow pace, sliding in his cock easily until you cry out and dig your nails into his skin, leaving small crescent shapes.
“Stop, stop–” You whimper.
“I’ll pull out–It’s okay–”
“No!” You keep him close to you. “No, I just–I need a minute.” You sniffle, your body slowly adjusting around his girth.
Miguel nods and pulls back enough to meet your eyes. “Okay. Okay, whatever you need. At your pace, remember?” He rests his forehead against yours. You open your eyes to see his cheeks flushed, a bit of sweat running down his temple and he shakes with every breath. Despite his current state of desire, he’s putting you first–he’s putting your comfort first.
“Thank you.” You whine softly. Miguel huffs, leaning down to kiss the corner of your eyes.
“Don’t thank me for that, nena. Never.” Miguel continues to pamper you with kisses, murmuring about how beautiful you are, how well you’re taking him, how he can’t get enough of you. He nuzzles into your neck, rolling lazily over your clit and does gentle thrusts of whatever you were able to handle.
After a few moments, you grab his attention by running your hands through his hair, fingernails scratching over his shaved parts. “Okay…more, please.”
He lifts himself up and holds your hips with both his hands. His thumbs caress your hip bones as he pushes himself deeper. You moan and tilt your head back, biting your lip as the combination of pain and pleasure hits your stomach and through every nerve in your body.
It felt like forever until he reached the hilt, the light smack of his balls hitting your pussy. Miguel smiles. “Good girl,” he licks his lips. “Mirame.”
Your head tilts back down to see both of you finally connected. “Holy shit…” You whisper, the sight making you clench. Miguel moans and grips your hips tighter, his head falling forward as he takes a deep breath.
“Fuck, don’t tighten around me like that.”
“Sorry!” You squeak and he chuckles. He raises his head back up, hair falling in front of his face and a lazy smile on his face that shows his fangs–his piercings glinting in the dim moonlight.
“Don’t be. It’s just, you feel so fucking good–you’ll make me cum.”
You cover your face and resist the urge to scream. The heat emanating from your face made you sweaty. Miguel takes your wrists and pins them to the side of your head. He cocks a pierced eyebrow up with a smirk. It softens when he sees just how flushed your expression is.
“‘m gonna move, okay?”
You gulp and give him the green light. Miguel looks down and slowly pulls out, watching your slick drench his condom covered cock. “Jesus…” He groans under his breath. He looks back up to see if there’s any sign of discomfort on your end but he’s met with your eyes glued between your legs as well. Your eyebrows are scrunched up in pleasure, mouth agape with shallow breaths while you watch him slowly ease out of you.
Miguel’s eyes darken with lust and he pushes back in once his tip was kissing your heat. He watches as you roll your head back, your eyes rolling behind your skull when you felt his cock filling you up again.
“Oh my God…” You moan. “Miguel…”
Miguel’s heart jumps and his hands tighten around your wrists. Still, he’s careful.
For a few minutes, Miguel continues his slow thrusting. He pulls out sweet moans and whimpers from you, getting you used to his massive size and stretching your cunt out to the shape of him. His tip nudges against your cervix and you jump which makes him grin.
After those few minutes, you began writhing underneath him. The pain had subsided and now this soft stroking was sweet but it wasn’t doing anything for you anymore. Your hands clenched and unclenched into fists.
“Miguel, Mig–more,” You begged. “Faster.”
“You sure?” He slows to a stop and you furrow your eyebrows in annoyance which he doesn’t notice.
He’s about to ask again after your lack of response when you lock your ankles around his waist, shoving him back inside you. You and Miguel moan in unison, Miguel nearly falling on top of you if he didn’t catch himself by resting on his elbows by your head. His breath fanned your face and he looked down into your eyes with a heavy blush.
“More.” You moan and Miguel quickly goes to work.
He leans on one elbow and places his other hand down to your hip to start picking up his pace. Miguel attaches his lips to your chest, biting the plump flesh of your tits before taking your nipple in his mouth once again. Your hands go around his back, your nails raking down his spine that leave red streaks. He pushes himself further against you, folding you in half while he increases his speed, abusing your pussy by slamming his cock in and out of you.
Your squealing and moaning becomes music to Miguel’s ears. He groans and licks his tongue around your nipple, lapping it back in his mouth to suck on it. His nails dig into your waist while the sound of skin slapping signaling just how desperate he is to fill you with his cock.
“Atta girl,” He moans after moving up to your neck with wet open mouthed kisses. “Knew you could take all of me. Knew you would sound so pretty crying all over my cock.” He smirks, looking up to see your eyes rolled back, tears brimming your eyes in ecstasy instead of pain this time. Your pussy spasms around him as you whimper.
“Mig–Mig–” You babble mindlessly. The only thing on your mind is Miguel, Miguel and Miguel. “So–so good…” You slur, vision going hazy while the lust clouded your mind.
Miguel’s ego inflates, his dick twitching inside you. Even with a condom he could still feel your pussy contract around him, your warm walls sucking him in deeper. Your hips wiggle and buck weakly to match his thrusts but ultimately Miguel does all the work, sending your mind spinning while he practically fucks all your thoughts, fears, and insecurities from your brain—turning you into a dumb cock-drunk mess.
Through the haze, you can hear your juices sloppily smacking between you and Miguel–an erotic sound of wet plaps, his balls becoming slick and sticky with your arousal.
“God, you feel so good,” He moans, hips stuttering. “It’s like your cunt is just begging for my cum. You want it? Huh? This tight little pussy gonna milk me dry?” He quickened his pace, humping against you in fast short thrusts.
You scratch his back, multiple lines of red marking his skin while your toes curl. “Yes, please, please, please–I wanna,” You babble through gasps. “It’s so good–I wanna cum–Don’t stop…!” Your voice becomes high pitched, your hips lifting to grind yourself on him. The both of you fucking one another exactly like horny college kids.
Miguel growls, nipping at your neck to add more hickeys to your body. “Never. Holy shit–you’re so fucking sexy,” He cuts himself off with a groan, his sweaty forehead falling to your shoulder while he humps you. “Never letting you go. This pussy is mine.”
His thumb finds your clit again, his fingers slowly being drenched with your messy juices that had spread all around your labia, smearing around your pussy with the help of Miguel’s unstable thrusting. His cold rings bumped against your hot skin, the difference in temperature becoming another factor in your raw lust. Your screams of pleasure bounced off the walls.
“C’mon pretty girl. Cum for me. I know you’re close.” He pants in your ear.
“Mig–gy!” You choke out, eyes squinted in ecstasy as Miguel helps you reach your climax. It wasn’t anything you’ve experienced before. White hot numbing pleasure waving through your body as you spasmed. Your orgasm shook your entire body and you clutched onto him tightly, your legs keeping him near, nails finding purchase in his back and arching your breasts up to his chest, nipples sensitive to the touch.
Miguel followed right after: rubbing your clit faster and his balls ached with a tightness before releasing his seed into the condom, his cock twitching as it spurts out his cum. He moans loudly, his body shivering and shaking along with you but he still helps you come down from the high, pumping weakly as he empties himself. Your body falls limp, head lolled back while Miguel breaths heavily. He pulls out as gently as you can but your virgin cunt wasn’t used to such stimulation, each inch back caressed your sensitive nerves up until he finally left with a pop.
Miguel’s hands shook as he took off the condom, body now covered in cold sweat now that the heat of the momentum was gone. He stumbled off your bed and tied the condom shut then dumped it in the small bin in your dorm room. He slipped back in your bed beside you, smiling to himself when you took deep breaths with your eyes closed.
“Hey, you alright?” He asks with a soft wheeze.
“Huh?” You barely heard him over the heartbeat pounding in your head. The blood flow goes through your body normally once again. “Hm? Oh. Mhm. Yeah.”
Miguel chuckles, resting on one elbow with his cheek in his palm and brushes your sweaty hair back from your face. “Yeah? You were amazing.”
“Really?” You try to look up at him through the exhaustion in your eyes. Who knew sex could take all your energy? Miguel grabs your folded fuzzy blanket and unravels it to drape it on top of you two.
“Really. I’m honored to be your first.”
You blush at the reminder that you hadn’t had sex before and the reminder that you were no longer a virgin. You stare at his face while his hands caress your cheeks, his thumb rubbing the side of your neck right under your jawline.
“Do you really like me?” You find yourself asking him.
Miguel’s hand stops moving and he looks surprised. “Yeah,” He confirms gently. “I wouldn’t fuck you if I didn’t. I don’t have sex with just anyone.” He pulls your cheek.
You frown and pout at him. “I'm serious!”
Miguel chuckles. “I know, I know.” He tilts your chin up with his index finger and leans down to kiss you sweetly for a quick peck. He knows what’s really on your mind.
“My pretty girl.” He hums as he stares down at you to admire the afterglow of your orgasm. “All mine. My pretty girl.” He dunks his head down to your chest, wrapping his arms around you to pull you in his embrace and snuggles you.
Your heart flutters. Pretty. It hits you then that Miguel really does think you’re pretty. You feel his ear piercings against your chest and the rings on his fingers running up and down the curve of your spine. His fingers find your white ribbon, crumpled under you and he twirls it around his ring finger. You struggle to hold back your smile as you hug him back, nuzzling your nose in his hair and falling asleep with the comfort of knowing someone genuinely finds you beautiful, inside and out.
a/n: im sorry i wasnt normal i just love a good trope and punk miguel i cant help but make him cute
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara x y/n#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x you#atsv miguel#miguel o'hara#miguel spiderman#miguel spiderverse#miguel ohara#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o'hara imagine#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#nonie requests ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
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Everybody Wants To Rule The World
Chapter One - Criminal
Oscar Piastri worked for a criminal organisation. It wasn't the life he wanted, wasn't the life he had chosen for himself. But, like those before him, he didn't have any other choice.
He was just a rookie in the Verstappen organisation. He got stuck with the shitty jobs, like watching over Verstappens latest intake, a petty criminal who makes stealing cars look hot.
1.9K
Warnings: Mentions of drugs
Series Masterlist
In the early hours of the morning, when the sun was painting the sky of the city pink, Alex Albon and Esteban Ocon had the biggest bag of cocaine either of them had ever seen. The two rarely delt with narcotics for their boss, but tonight he had a special job for the two of them.
Alex kept watch as Esteban, whose body was longer and thinner, worked his way beneath the car. They used the car jack to raise it slightly as Esteban got beneath and stuck the cocaine to the bottom of the car.
Who did this car belong to? Well that doesn't matter. Not for now, anyway.
Giggling, the two took off, driving back to their bosses head quarters.
In this same part of the city, a girl was running from the blue and red flashing lights. That was the problem when you steal cars, you always have to be on the lookout for the polite.
Y/N L/N happened upon this car with the cocaine stuck to the bottom of it. He had maybe a minute before the police car caught up to her. A minute to get the car open and a minute to drive away.
She got the car open easily. It was old, a classic. The owner would be sad to see it go, but that wasn't something she could afford to think about.
Pulling her hat from her head she worked about hot wiring the car and tuned the radio to her liking. Twenty five seconds until the police caught up with her.
The radio was also old, as old as the car. It was going to take her some time before she found the right station.
At least, the end of Rick Astleys 'Never Gonna Give You Up' played and Tears For Fears 'Everybody Wants to Rule The World' began. Y/N grinned as she put the car into gear and floored it, heading towards the outskirts of the city.
She had to lose the cops before she returned to her boss. If she brought the police to his door, she'd never hear the end of it. Or her blood would be spilt. There was no telling.
Y/N managed to get away from the cops. Usually they'd give up and she could drive away, unscathed. But tonight was different. Tonight they weren't giving up.
"Fucking pigs," she muttered as she turned down an alleyway, trying to conceal herself and the car. She cringed as its sides scraped against the walls of the buildings it was squashed between. At least it would be harder to identify now.
But she had fucked it. She went to turn left down the alleyway, only to find herself blocked by a wall. A fucking wall. She was done for, screwed, and in so much trouble.
The police cars pulled in behind her. They had the sense not to follow her down the alleyway and get themselves stuck. Instead, they pulled out their guns and pointed them at the girl in the car, demanding she exit the vehicle.
Y/N wound down the car window. "I can't get the door open!" She called, hoping the police heard her. "So I'm going to break the back window and climb out that way, okay?"
She hasn't a hardened criminal, not in the way that mattered. She'd never had a run in with the police before and she didn't quite know what to do. So, she did as her father had taught her and remained calm and collected. Show them you mean no harm and they won't harm you.
She waited for confirmation from the police office closest to the car before climbing into the back of the car and kicking at the back window. It was no easy task, getting the back window separated from the car. It was a few good kicked before the sheet of glass fell away, allowing her to climb from the car with her hands up.
She was cuffed, placed in the back of a police car and taken to the station while the owner of the car was contacted. They took the cocaine from the car and drove Y/N to the station.
"There's something wrong with your car," she tried to say to the police officers, able to tell from the sound alone. But they weren't having any of it. They shut her up and continued driving to the station.
At the station they placed her in the holding cell. Prostitutes and other criminals surrounded her as she sat on the bench and closed her eyes. She just stole a car, she'd be out of here in no time.
But suddenly a police officer called her name. She opened her eyes and walked over to the door of the holding cell, walking past the petty thieves and flashers.
An officer grabbed her arm and marched her over to his desk. He pushed her into a chair and cuffed her hand to the arm. "So," he began as he sat on the other side of the desk. "Where did you get the coke?"
"Coke?" Y/N asked as she tried sit forward.
The officer let out a sigh. "You know, blow, bump, nose candy, sniff, snow, white rock."
"Hey now, I don't fuck with drugs," she called, slumping back in the chair. "If there was cocaine on that car, it was there before I got to it," she said.
The officer let out another sigh. He uncuffed her from the chair and marched her back to the holding cell. He threw her in locking the door behind her. If she wasn't going to talk, she could rot in there.
But she wasn't going to rot in there. The arresting officer suddenly got a phone call that he rushed to answer. The number was withheld and he knew exactly who it was.
The voice on the other end of the phone was soft, the accent unrecognisable. The voice maybe have been soft, but the officer still did exactly what he said.
"Yes, sir," he said, listening to the person. "Right away, sir."
The person on the other end of the phone hung up and the officer stretched out his limbs. This was maybe his least favourite part of the job, having to let the criminals go because the most powerful man in the city commanded it.
The officer opened the holding cell and grabbed a hold of the girl he had just arrested. He held her arm, his grip bruising as he dragged her out of the holding cell. "Your charges have been taken care of," he grumbled as he marched her out out the precinct, around to the back.
Still holding her arm, he placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled.
A black van, which had previously been inconspicuously parked in the corner of the parking lot, rumbled to life. The engine was old, clearly, but it sounded amazing. The door slid open and three men, all in pristine suits jumped out. One strode over, a black sack in his hands.
The two others circled around her, taking her from the officer. The officer said nothing and quickly rushed back inside. The two men grabbed her hands and wormed together to tie them behind her back. The bindings were tight, cutting into her skin. But she knew better then to panic.
"Sorry about this," said the third man, standing in front of her. Y/N had just about enough time to study his face, his dark eyes, the moles on his face, his round cheeks ans pillowy lips. His hair, which parted down the middle, soft and fluffy and shiny.
She shrugged her shoulders and he placed the bag over her head.
There was no point fighting them as they walked her to the van, she'd seen their guns the moment they'd jumped out of the van. The two that had tied her hands sat behind her as the pretty one, the one who had placed the bag over her head climbed into the driver's seat.
He always drove, no matter the job. It was what he loved, what he was good at, what kept him calm.
The drive wasn't very long. Or, it hadn't seemed long to the captive, who was trying her best to keep time using the songs playing on the radio. They weren't out of the city, or, they weren't very far outside of it.
"Oh, turn this one up," she said, her words muffled, and the driver did just that, twisting the knob attached to the radio to turn up the volume.
Before too long the driver killed the engine and the sliding door to the van was thrown open. Y/N was dragged to her feet, one man holding each arm, and walked forward. She had no idea where she was or where she was going. The only indicator that she had walked into a building was the stale air, the buzz of the lights overhead and the feeling of the floor beneath her feet. These were the sorts of things you had to learn to survive.
She went into a room, her feet hitting the metal threshold strip that sat between rooms, and was sat in a chair.
The bindings were pulled from her hands and the bag from her head. She blinked quickly, the light flooding into her eyes all too bright.
But then she looked around, looking at the art on the walls surrounding her, at the table in front of her, at the man on the other side of that table.
She knew who she was in an instant, her heart pounding in her chest. His hair was a dirty blonde, combed back out of his face, and the beginnings of a beard surrounded his mouth. His eyes were a little far apart, but it didn't look bad on him. No, he was a very handsome man. Dangerous and terrifying, but handsome.
"You stole from me." That was the first thing his said.
Y/N couldn't stop her eyes from going wide. Him. She wasn't supposed to steal from him. The one rule she had for this job was don't steal from him. If she had known the car belonged to him, she would have run in the other direction. But it was too late now.
"I'm impressed. Nobody has ever had the balls to steal from me before. What makes you different?" He leaned forward, resting his chin on his knuckles. "
Y/N went to push her chair back, but a hand, covered in rings, settled on her shoulder and squeezed. She didn't dare turn to see who was behind her. "I swear, I didn't know it was you're car."
"Don't you know stealing is wrong?" The man in front of her narrowed his eyes. "As soon as the car was on the move, we watched you. That was a pretty good drive, until you fucked up."
Verstappen sat up a little straighter. He sat back and waited, waited for her to say something.
Truth be told, Y/N was a little lost for words. What was he playing at? Did he know who she was?
Suddenly, Verstappen stood up. He signalled for her to stand up and the person behind her pulled her to her feet and pushed her after his boss.
They took her through the halls of a house, with the same amount of pretty art. Verstappen didn't so much as glance at the art as they walked past, and she had a feeling that it wasn't his taste. The man behind her kept his ringed hand on her shoulder as he steered her after Verstappen.
They walked her into a garage and stopped her in the doorway. "Okay," said Verstappen, gesturing to the plethora of cars in front of him. They were all gorgeous cars, better than anything Y/N had ever stolen before. Super cars, classic cars, Verstappen had them all.
"Show me what you got."
TAGLIST (OPEN): @biancathecool @graciewrote
#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri smut#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader smut#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula one#formula one imagine#formula one x reader#formula 1#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 x reader#op81#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#mafia!f1#mafia!au
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ʜᴏᴄᴋᴇʏᴘʟᴀʏᴇʀ!ɢᴏᴊᴏ x ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴛᴀᴛᴏʀ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ
⤷ genre: nsfw, fluff, smut
⤷ tropes: doing it in the change rooms, kinda enemies to lovers, feral!gojo
⤷ series (jjk men as athletes)- more coming soon..
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who plays with almost superhuman stamina and precision. he eases through matches, no sweat. everyone knows he'll be scouted by the nation's top teams.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who revels in the cheer of his fan club after each victory (Go Gojo! Go Gojo!) and who's never had a problem with the commentator, until one day he notices a particularly difficult commentary over the speakers. 'second time gojo's missed. is he really worth the clout? who's this gojo, anyway? looks like he's lacking stamina.'
he seethes through his nose.
all throughout the match, it's the same gist. you make some crude remark about the team; he scores a goal and sends you that shit eating grin, whoever you are, behind the speakers; you talk him down; he misses, then gives double the effort to score next time; repeat.
but at the end of the day, though, they lose by a fair margin. his teammate has to drag him away to stop him from throwing a tantrum.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who learns your ex is on his team. that's why you never said a good word about them. he gets passed a photo and his jaw almost drops.
you're... beautiful.
but it doesn't change the fact you'll be commentating the finals.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who recognises you an hour before the match starts, standing beside the rink. he sidles on over. 'so this is the one who took my name and drove it six feet underground?' you turn around, raising an eyebrow at the snowy haired player. your ex wasn't on the best terms with gojo, but any bad commentary was good commentary when that cheater was on the same side. 'hey, so, i heard you broke up with a member of the team. you still like the jersey?'
he notices your eyes checking him out as he shifts closer, letting his minty cologne invade your senses. your throat swallows.
gotcha.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who fucks you hard and fast in the changing room. the door rattles under your weight and you hear curse words and yells at him to hurry up on the other side.
'this doesn't change how i commentate,' you hiss out.
'wasn't expecting you to.' he grits his teeth, pushing you against the wall, ready to fuck you so well it has you switching sides. he bunches up your hands behind your back so the only movement comes from your mouth. 'let me hear you, wanna hear you,' pistoning his hips with the same concentration as when his eyes narrow on the goal. you can't stop the pleas from dribbling out.
look at you, so eager for the enemy to score. he tuts, his blue eyes feral with glee, 'aren’t you professional.’
this time, when his name escapes you in a stutter, so desperate for him to hit that spot it drugs his own mind, let's just say he isn't so bothered.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who, in the daze afterwards, hovers over your lips with an evil smirk. 'spread the good word for me, love'
he helps you find your clothes, picking up his hockey stick left on the ground, tossing you his jersey from the youth national team as he changes into his gear. he returns to the rink as though he had never left. now that's stamina.
one hearty wink at you before closing the door, as though your legs aren't weak below you and one more when he enters the rink.
guess you're back on the team.
HOCKEYPLAYER!GOJO who secures the win and your number after the match, effectively earning the all around mvp for the day. he is positively glowing when he exits the stadium, and everyone on the team knows why.
... absolutely everyone.
(extra: 'gojo, maybe you went a little far'
'what? i got the commentator back on our side! i won us the game!'
'you screwed naoya's ex'
'it was only for ten minutes! if he's insecure about that, then i think it's a question of upping his game, not downplaying mine-')
#gojo satoru#jjk gojo#gojo x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jjk x reader#gojo smut#highschool!gojo#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk fluff#athlete!gojo
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𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬: 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞.
✧.*ೃ⁀➷ pete's place | the intro | opening night | the playlist ༊*·˚
✧.* : ̗̀➛ soft!dark!steve rogers x female!reader (non-descriptive)
✧.* : ̗̀➛ word count: 586.
✧.* : ̗̀➛ warnings: throat-fucking, hair pulling, dub-con/non-con (how ever you wanna interpret it!), steve losing his mind
✧.* : ̗̀➛ requested by: @levans44
✧.* : ̗̀➛ notes: i am so excited to share this one with u!! plssss i need to know ur thoughts, pls tell me even if it's on anon!! i really love this one!! anyways enjoy my besties!! check out the main masterlist if this is the first your seeing anything of this series!!
Steve gripped at the arms of his chair, knuckles turning white as you lapped at the tip of his cock. Every kiss and lick was paced and delicate drawing ragged gasps and grunts hidden behind gritted teeth. Steve’s breath hitched as your lips finally closed around him, a twinge already in your jaw as his cock rested heavy against your tongue. Each hollow of your cheeks pulled at Steve’s resolve; struggling to keep a hold of the rope inside his head, each salacious wet noise tugged on the other end.
You continued your gentle assault on his mind, your tongue rubbing at the underside of his cock as you tried to take him further which caused you to gag around the thick head.
‘’Fuck,’’ Steve groaned brokenly, frenzied and insatiable and full of desperate need.
Steve became increasingly needy. His head tilted back against the back of the chair, his body slipping deeper into the wooden seat, sounds of creaking wood as he bucked his hips up into the heat of your mouth. Groans, grunts and long moans from behind gritted teeth swirled around the room mixing with the sounds of you working your mouth over his throbbing shaft.
You peered up and moaned at the sight of him; face twisted with pleasure, sweat on his brow and parted lips as he let out short, quick pants. Your moans sent waves over his cock and just as you were about to pull off for a break, Steve opened his eyes and caught yours and within a split second his eyes turned black as coal. You were suddenly knocked backwards as Steve surged up out of his chair. The rope had slipped from his hands and he soothed the burns on his hands with fists full of your hair, dragging your open mouth back onto his cock.
Unable to contain the black swirling inside of him, Steve began to fervently fuck your throat; too lost to hear your muffled coughs and cries, too lost to feel your palms battering down on his thighs. Steve continued to push his cock deeper, further; making you breathe and feel only him. Your throat eased around his thick tip as you reached up to scratch across his stomach, clawing for light behind his now dark eyes.
Gritted teeth spat lust-filled moans as you watched him draw closer and closer to his end, his hips stuttering as his head dropped back. His hips sped up, causing your throat to constrict around him once again. Your fingernails drew crescent moons into the meat of his thighs, eyes wide and silently pleading for relief when suddenly he drew back.
Air flooded your lungs, you gasped it down, hunching over slightly before a fist dragged your head back and pulled your body upright so Steve could paint himself across your lips. Steve let out a string of loud, lewd moans, lips parted and sweat-matted hair clung to his forehead.
Once he was finished, Steve’s thumb smudged through the mess he’d left on your lips, sucking in deep breaths as the blue slowly flooded back into his eyes.
His mouth dropped open, jaw quivering as his deep breaths turned to tears as he dropped to his knees.
#chris evans#steve rogers#dark!steve x female reader#dark!steve rogers#dark!chris evans#dark!steve x reader#dark!steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers fanfiction#steve#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x you#chris evans x female reader#chris evans characters#pete's place#pete's place: the drabbles#dark au#dark verse#lila writes#lila's drabbles#steve: pete's place
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♡.･✩°｡⋆ jk & the panty chronicles ♡.･✩°｡⋆
୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ pairing — established relationship, jk x f!reader
୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ warnings — smut, switch!jk, dirty talk, panty kink, mommy kink kinda ? shjhsds, masturbation, spitting, thigh riding, ruined orgasm (but lets jk finish in the end tho, she’s not that much of a sadist!), handjob, begging, cute & flustered koo ftw <3
this is the 2nd installment to my drabble series if you haven’t read the first one you can here!
nothing frustrates you more than when you lose something, it’s so nerve wracking — you almost drive yourself crazy looking for it. on a typical day getting ready for work, you were searching for your favorite pair of undies in your drawer but they’ve seem to have gone missing. you spent two weeks trying to find them but eventually gave up since you were having absolutely no luck. it bummed you out because not only was the design super cute, but they were also really comfy and held sentimental value. jungkook bought them as a valentine’s gift — which he surprised you by taking off with his teeth that night. it’d be rude of you to ask him to buy you another pair but you were tempted on doing so anyways since you loved the particular pair that much.
it didn’t dawn on you that this would become a reoccurring theme, until yet another pair ends up disappearing. you noticed straight away, it wasn’t one of your simple, everyday ones so they stood out from the rest. at this point it can’t just be a coincidence anymore— but how do they keep vanishing into thin air? were you accidentally misplacing them? or was someone else behind this? it’s only you and jungkook sharing this house so the only way you’ll get to the bottom of this is by asking him about it, maybe it could’ve got mixed up in his laundry or something! so you text him while at work to see if he may know anything-
[2:50 pm] babeee have you seen my cute undies?? u know the ones with the blue stripes and white lace around them, i can’t find them for the life of me :c
2 new notifications from jungkookiee 🍪🐰:
[2:53 pm] no i haven’t, sawryyyy 💔
aren’t those the ones from brandy? :0
sigh… of course he has no idea where they are, but how does he know the exact brand? he didn’t buy those ones..
[2:56 pm] yes those ! i was looking for them earlier today but ig i lost them T-T
wait, how’d you know they’re from brandy?
3 new notifications from jungkookiee 🍪🐰:
[3:01 pm] …
[3:02 pm] wild guess ?? haha >.<
[3:07 pm] i rlly have no idea tho, sorry i’m not much help baby. but if i do come across them i’ll tell you right away 🫡
theres something off about him but you’re not sure what it is. for some reason you don’t think he’s telling the full truth, but why would he need to lie about such a trivial matter though? you won’t keep texting him about it, instead you’ll ask when you get home, you’ll get an answer out of him one way or another.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
you head home from work a little later than usual but didn’t tell jungkook that you were on your way back. you were still hung up on earlier, prepared to confront your boyfriend who’s waiting for you at home clueless as ever. the first thing you noticed as you came in was how quiet it is, jungkook wasn’t in the living room nor downstairs where he usually is. your heels click up the stairs slowly, traveling your way to the bedroom when a sudden noise halts your steps. there were low murmurs and soft groans echoing from outside the door and as you got closer the sounds become more apparent. there’s no way he’s doing what you think he is right now… the curiosity is burning through you as you carefully turn the knob to open the door, trying not to make a sound while coming in, the sight you’re greeted with was anything less than innocent. your mouth flung agape when settling your eyes on your boyfriend in front of you, propped on the bed completely naked with his eyes scrunched shut. he flew his head back in delight as his tattoo’d hand wrapped around the base of his throbbing length, holding some object you couldn’t identify. you felt like such a creep watching him from afar like this but you’d be lying if you said weren’t getting subconsciously turned on.
jungkook has such a pretty voice, but his moans are even prettier. he sounds so angelic, whispering nothing but gibberish, grunting, bucking his desperate hips in the air as he bites his lip frustratedly. “y/n..” he pants, hopelessly calling out to you, pumping his angry cock at a faster rate, “nngh~ fuck mommy, n-need y-you…” oh, so that’s what he calls you when you’re not around? you’re not sure what to do with this secondary information but it’s driving you more insane. that’s when you notice something— that object he’s holding around his shaft looks awfully familiar, you remember that color and pattern and wait… it’s your missing underwear! you’ve finally found the culprit but now you’re left with more questions, why did jungkook steal your panties to jerk off with them? was this a secret kink he’s had all along but too embarrassed to talk about? only one way to find out. you fully enter the room now, shutting the door behind as you walk closer to him. the king sized bed sinks further down once you kneel on the edge, jungkook’s eyes still remained tightly closed, but not for much longer. his hand movements become sloppier and hastier, turning more apparent that he’s getting close. that’s when a sinister idea comes to mind for you, ready to spoil all the fun for him.
·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·
“aah.. shit. think i’m cumming… holy fuu-” jungkook’s sinful sounds abruptly stir at the feeling of something or someone touching him. lashes fluttering immediately to see you sitting on the ledge in front of him. not only was he startled, but he has no clue how long you’ve been there staring at him doing this. “having fun without me, huh?” you ask innocently, tilting your head sideways, acting all oblivious. jungkook’s adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps nervously, rendering silent for a bit from getting caught but eventually responds, “h-how much did you… hear?” biting your lip before answering, you press your thighs together while remembering, “most of it,” “enough to know you have a mommy kink now!” you tease his flustered state, giggling at the power and control you had over him. “but don’t worry baby, i think it’s kinda hot.” you look down to still see the flimsy fabric wrapped around him, streaks of his milky pre-cum leak down the side.
you feel kinda bad for not letting him finish but you want to make him do that instead. your hand moves up to gently caress his thigh, “sorry i ruined your orgasm, it’s payback for stealing my panties.” your apology couldn’t be more fake, secretly gloating about this whole thing, but jungkook wasn’t seeming to find any of this funny. you don’t see him like this often, he’s usually the more dominant one and you’re fine with being submissive — this drastic change of personality in him makes you even more aroused. “i know it’s wrong… i- i don’t know why i do it. m’sorry for stealing your stuff puddin’..” his big, round doe eyes plead with you, face all red and blushy as he attempts covering his body with the bed sheet. he was being too cute right now, how could you even scold him? ;(( “aww, babyy don’t be ashamed, i think it’s cute!” you admit, removing the sheet from him, “c’mere gimme kiss.” body tingling with anticipation as your lips collide with his, tangling your fingers in his disheveled locks.
jungkook breathlessly moans into the kiss, mind still hazy from the actions he was performing earlier. your tongue dips, nudging the soft plumpness of his lips to gain further access. he parts his lips ever so slightly, just enough to let you in, exploring the divine taste of him. he moves rhythmically with you, swallowing each other whole as if you were feeding off each other’s souls. the more you devour him the more messy it gets, mingling your spit with his as the kiss grows sloppy with longing passion. he could cum from just kissing you alone, it’s all too much for jungkook’s brain to process… his cock involuntarily twitching when you crawl on top of him. “fuck baby…” he coos into you, palming your breasts under your blouse, feeling like he’s going to combust any minute. “you can touch me later.” you murmur, taking his hands away from desperately wanting to feel you, “let me make you cum while i ride your thigh.”
the warmth of his body consumes you, secured tightly as you were sat between his thigh with your clothed pussy against him. his hands cage the frame of your waist while you rock back and forth slowly, stimulating your clit with jungkook’s muscular thigh. “want me to make you feel good, hm?” your voice taunts his trembling state, ghosting your thumb over the swollen head of his shaft. “p-please..” he whispers under his breath, “please fuck me.” you tsk, snickering at his impatience, he’s going to be waiting a while if he truly wants that. “not yet,” shaking your head as you faintly graze over his erection, “wanna hear you beg for it.” fully grasping his girth, you begin lightly tugging, adding more friction with your undies still wrapped like a present. jungkook winces from your sudden touch, feeling his muscles tensing underneath as you watch him squirm a bit. “i wan- i want…” he babbles senselessly, not used to acting this whiny for you.
“what do you want?” you sigh dramatically, shifting the underwear so you could lean down and spit on his cock, lathering your saliva to create more of a mess, “tell me and i’ll give it to you pretty boy.” as much as he wanted to tell you, he could barely get a word out, he felt so humiliated you were overpowering him like this. all he could do was continue whining, the sounds he’s making are extra pretty, a beautiful melody to your eardrums. “want you so fucking bad baby.. please j-just let m-me.. mmph~” this was gonna be a way harder task for him than he thought. the more his thigh clenches the more you wanna scream out, you’re surprised you’re able to focus on two things at once right now. his cock pulsates in your hand, reacting erratically as you give it another squeeze, he feels so close he could almost see it coming. “m’not gonna last for much longer…” all he thought about was getting to finish inside you, maybe you’ll let him if he acts accordingly. “i wanna fuck you so bad, wanna feel your walls clench around me as i mindlessly ram my cock into you, make you scream, cry, and shake while i have my fingers stuffed down your pretty little throat. i wanna fill you with my cum… give you all my babies and more.. please let me. i’ll do anythiii- agghh!” jungkook’s rambling is cut off when he feels his orgasm rapture through him, the excessive speed you were going + you grinding on his thigh was enough to drive him to the edge.
spurts of his white essence coats your hand deliciously, continuing to pump his length as you milk out every last drop he has to give. “fuck, fuck, fuckk.” he curses from the overstimulation, he wants one thing and one thing only, your sweet, yummy pussy. as much as you wanted to keep drawing this out you didn’t want to keep seeing him suffer. “okay, i’ll let you fuck me,” letting out a chuckle as you finally cave, “but only since you were so good for me.” your attention’s drawn back to the soiled panties that were half covering his cock, it’s still unbelievable that he lied about where they were, knowing full well he was using them to get off. you took the dainty jizz-stained fabric and do an unthinkable act next. stuffing the soaked material inside of you completely, letting his cum seep into your gushy walls. once he saw that, a flip switched within, quickly flipping you over so he could be on top, easily reversing the roles. he watched as you were the one squirming in fear now, locking you in place with your arms pinned above your head. he flashes a sly smirk, getting the last laugh in the end, “you’re so fucking dirty for that, m’gonna have to punish you for being such a naughty girl… maybe i should stuff them in your filthy mouth next, you’d probably like that. wouldn’t you?”
this was well overdue but it’s finally here lollll, part 3 will be up in a much more speedy time i PWOMISE. if you liked this lmk if you’d like to be tagged in part 3, thanks for reading !! :D
tags:: @gywaruu @sweet-sourhotcoco @somehowukook @pjkthjjk @jungkooks21 @asterianax @jungcockthirst @kookznoona @mylilacheart
#jungkook imagine#jungkook drabble#jungkook x reader#jeon jungkook x reader#jungkook x female reader#jungkook x f reader#jungkook smut#jeon jungkook smut#bts smut#bts x reader#bts x f reader#jk smut#jungkook imagines#jungkook fic
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𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬
-> ft some of the under-appreciated blue lock boys (Kurona Ranze, Niko Ikki, Karasu Tabito )
I know… i know i should be writing those requests. But I know if you’re one of these guy’s fans… you’re starving from the lack of food ur being fed. So take this (it ain’t much)
Gn! Reader as always, no warnings besides cursing i believe
-> Kurona Ranze (shark boy!)
Adorable bf!! TM
He’s such a sweetheart.
Y’know how braiding is his hobby? Yeah. If you ever let him do your hair, expect all kinds of braids.
Little spoon!!! He loves feeling loved and appreciated. So even if you start as the little spoon, he’ll end up in your position at some point
Aquarium dates. Lots of them.
He’a not a shark nerd per say, but he knows more shark facts than the average person and he WILL tell you all about them if you let him
Canonically… before games, he always makes his bed so whether he wins or loses, he has a nice comfy bed to return to. But to add onto that!!
On his way back from a game, he’ll get yours and his favorite snack so you guys can relax in bed together with a movie :,)
He doesn’t have any petnames for you, though occasionally he’ll call you “love” or “sweetheart” (even though he’s the biggest sweetheart)
He’s pretty insecure about his teeth, so you’ll need to remind him that they’re what make him unique and are cute anyway
He has a healthy sleep schedule, so if you’re up at the ungodly hours of the night and he happens to wake up, he’s more than likely making you go to sleep
“(Name)? (Name)… what are you doing up? You’ll be asleep all day if you go to bed any later. Sleep, sleep. Please?”
He’s adorable. Please kiss him.
-> Nikko Ikki (making overgrown bangs look good)
Awkward bf!! TM
Yeah. Please help him.
You’re more than likely his first relationship, and he can hardly believe it.
Thinks you’re too good to be his first lover ever but eventually grasps that it’s the real deal
Always asks “are you okay with this?” Before doing ANYTHING. Even just playing with your fingers, he just wants to make sure you’re comfy :((
He tried to cook for you one time but everything got burnt so he had to clean up the crime scene and make instant food before you came over (in 10mins)
Spoiler alert : he failed. The house was still smokey and you had to help air it out by opening all the windows
The boy was very embarrassed afterwards
He’s a canon otaku, so you’ll probably be binging an anime with him once a week
Thought you’d laugh when he told you madoka magica was his favorite movie series. When you didn’t, he swore he fells 10x harder
Loves your eyes. Pls don’t freak out if he stares too long, it’s because he thinks they’re very mesmerizing
Doesn’t like spooning that much, prefers laying on your chest or you laying on his. He feels more connected that way
Please please please play with his hair! He’ll tense up at first, but eventually melts into your touch
“Could you… keep doing that? It feels nice.”
Squish his cheeks lovingly he’s such a cutie
-> Karasu Tabito (dipshit)
Annoying bf!! TM
Yeah he’s a little shit.
A great bf, but a little shit.
Very teasing, is always trying to make you flustered (does it work? More than half the time, probably.)
As outgoing as he is, he prefers if you do most the talking and he just listens
He will remember everything and anything you say and will let you know sooner or later
Whether he gets you something you said looked cute a few days ago or adds onto you’re comment on something
He loves you! But keels you hidden from his teammates
Specifically eita.
Pretends he’s not interested in a relationship so he doesn’t recommend cheating on you when someone else walks by
Loves going on walks with you, he thinks it’s a perfect mix of casual and romantic
Prefers holding you over you holding him in any position, it makes him feel trusted
Kisses are quick and random with this guy…
You’ll he cuddling and suddenly he’a pressing his lips against yours, then pulling away like nothing happened
“What? Did something happen baby? Why are you so flustered?”
what an interesting guy.
#blue lock#bllk#blue lock scenario#blue lock headcanons#bllk scenarios#bllk headcanons#kurona ranze#kurona#bllk kurona#kurona x reader#kurona ranze x reader#ikki niko#niko#ikki niko x reader#niko x reader#bllk niko#karasu tabito#karasu#karasu tabito x reader#karasu x reader#bllk fluff#blue lock fluff#dor writes
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we're in love - m. murdock
a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry.
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3
warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex.
word count: 7.1k
summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means.
pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader
now playing: we're in love - boygenius
"will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."
Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.
Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.
You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.
It’s how you paid for college.
And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.
Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.
For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.
And then The Doctor found you.
No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.
He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.
You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.
Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.
About a month in, you started growing antlers.
At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.
On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.
At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.
But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.
How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?
Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.
Until The Doctor became cruel.
He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.
One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.
An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.
You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.
The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.
And that was that.
You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.
Which, of course, is where you met Matt.
With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.
And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.
Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.
He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.
He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.
One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor. You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.
He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.
When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.
You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—
‘My Best Test Subject,
I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.
-The Doctor’
You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.
This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.
• • •
After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.
But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.
It all happens too fast—
In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.
He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.
He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.
“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.
Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.
• • •
When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.
You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.
You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.
But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.
Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.
“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”
Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.
“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”
“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”
“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”
“You’re going to kidnap more people.”
“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”
“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”
He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.
“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”
You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.
Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.
The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.
“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.
“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.
The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.
“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”
• • •
Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.
For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.
Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.
Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.
And Foggy has the most important job of all.
Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.
It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.
“What? What is it?”
“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”
The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.
“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.
“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”
“Where?” Matt asks.
“Red, just—”
“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.
“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.
“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.
• • •
Daredevil is my enemy.
Matt Murdock hates me.
I hate him.
We were never really in love with each other.
These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.
Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.
Maybe.
You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.
The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.
But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.
It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.
Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.
Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.
“I found you, I’ve got you…”
You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.
Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.
“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?
Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.
“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”
“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.
“Why was she—”
“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.
• • •
If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.
Today is no different.
You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.
You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.
The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.
“How do you know my name?” You ask.
She frowns.
“It—Because we’re good friends.”
“I don’t know you.”
“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”
“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”
Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.
There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.
He speaks next.
“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”
“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.
“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.
“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.
“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.
Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.
And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.
Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.
“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.
It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.
“I don’t know you.” You tell him.
Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.
“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”
“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.
“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”
You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.
Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.
“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?
“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.
“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.
“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”
Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.
“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.
It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.
“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.
You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..
Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.
Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.
“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”
He hesitates.
“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”
• • •
Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.
You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.
“You kept them?”
“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.
“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”
He shrugs gently.
“In sickness and in health, right?”
“And in torture and memory alteration.”
“Same thing.”
For the first time in six months, you smile.
Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.
You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.
• • •
Memories are a tricky thing.
You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.
One night, he brings home Thai Food.
“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.
“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.
“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.
“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.
But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.
“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”
“Why did you want to marry me?”
He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.
“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.
“Oh..”
“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”
You smile softly.
“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”
“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”
“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.
Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..
Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.
“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.
“Yeah..”
“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.
“Can you stay with me?” You ask.
“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”
He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.
Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.
But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.
“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”
“Real.” He confirms.
“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”
“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”
You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.
“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”
“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.
You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.
• • •
The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.
Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.
It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:
‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’
Five minutes later, you get a response.
‘Real. Yours is sprite.’
You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.
Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.
“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.
“Do you like pesto?”
“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.
“So you do?”
“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”
“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”
“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”
There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.
“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.
“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.
“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.
“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”
And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.
“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.
You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.
As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’
The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.
So you call Frank.
This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.
“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.
“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.
It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.
“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”
“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.
“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.
“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”
Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.
“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”
Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.
“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.
But he’ll never get that chance.
He hopes Matt does.
• • •
It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.
“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"
“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.
“You like them?”
“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”
He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.
“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”
Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.
Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.
“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.
“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”
You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.
The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.
“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.
“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.
The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.
“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.
“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”
“I know.” You tell him.
A comfortable silence fills the air again.
“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.
“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.
You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.
“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.
You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.
“Real.”
#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil fic#daredevil#matt murdock fic#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock hurt/comfort#matt murdock love of my life#frank castle#karen page#foggy nelson#marvel fic#mcu fanfic#marvel comics#hard of hearing!reader#hoh!reader#deaf!reader
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i don't want you like a best friend
alternatively: love wasn't always easy for us
(next)
in which their trip to the bahamas two years ago suddenly becomes a push and pull game that neither of them knew the rules to
(series masterlist)
she huffs, jumping as she hikes her bag up her shoulder. with the other hand, she pushes her luggage ahead of her while she shoots daggers at the older boy next to her. "why did i agree to this again?"
"because it's the last two weeks before summer break ends, and logan wants to at least step foot into the bahamas at least once this year," oscar mutters, carefully eyeing the older boy walking ahead of them. "it's not that big of a deal."
"i don't like beaches. it's hot, sand gets in my hair, and the ocean is scary," she lists out her complaints as she narrows her eyes down into another glare. "why couldn't we just have spent it in florida with his family?"
"because that's not the bahamas," oscar points out. "come on, don't be a vibe killer. it's the one thing logan wanted to do this summer break."
she actually doesn't mind the beach all that much. what she minds is watching the guy she's having a current massive crush on flirt with girls and eventually hook up with them.
it seemed like a good idea agreeing to go three weeks ago, convinced that she was on the verge of breaking free from the grasp of his stupid blue eyes and charming smile. but no, she still lies awake at night in the room next to his, thinking about his conversation in the kitchen with oscar about having a reciprocated crush on her.
she was so close to getting over him when she found that out. now it's just like it was about three weeks ago.
she had mistakenly stared into his blue eyes too long after an intense game of twister, tangled up with his body as she tried to retain her title of reigning champion in their household. her arms shortly gave out after that, admitting defeat and then running to her bedroom to call xyriel about her newfound crush.
everyone just assumed she was being a sore loser about losing the title, but she was actually giggling softly with xyriel and leia about how she never noticed how his eyes sparkled under the light. the loss didn't even feel as serious as it typically does.
"the bahamas is stupid," she mutters. "florida's better than that, anyway."
"you just don't wanna be on a yacht, admit it."
"being in the sea for an indefinite amount of time without land nearby just seems like a clear death wish. i'm too young to die! i've got history to make, you know?"
oscar stares at her. "we went to barcelona like you wanted, then we went to scotland like i wanted. so we're going to the bahamas like logan wants."
she maintains her frown. "fine. but you're buying me at least three cocktails when we get there."
"i'm pretty sure logan's got that covered," oscar snorts with a soft laugh. "he said yesterday he can't believe you agreed to this trip."
"oh, come on," logan sighs, throwing his head back and slumping his shoulders. he sways slightly and pouts his bottom lip out at the girl under the covers. "you're seriously not joining us for drinks at the bar downstairs?"
"i don't really feel like drinking," she sighs, shaking her head. "maybe i'll come down for a while to join you guys. but like, later."
"what? why not just come with us now?" logan whines, reaching out for her shoulder to shake her. "xyriel and leia have reserved the table and oscar and lily are making their way. dalton is also getting ready next door. you'll be all alone in here!"
she jolts when his hands come into contact with her skin, making her squeeze her eyes shut against the pillow in an attempt to suppress the goosebumps developing on her body. "logan."
"i'll pay for your half of the bill tonight," he says gently, lowering his face towards her.
"that's actually pretty convincing," she smiles, lifting her head from the pillow to look at him. she wipes her face completely and blinks at him blankly. "but no. you're going there to meet girls, anyway! xyriel will be your stand-in wingman tonight."
another thing that complicated it all for her is also the unfortunate fact that she's gotten so well at scoring logan dates and girls that he's just simply brought her everywhere the minute she turned 18.
but she just didn't feel like doing it tonight.
"what are you talking about? i'm not insisting you join us so you can find me a girl," logan laughs. the dipped end of her bed disappears, making her sigh in relief, only to tense up again when the other end dips down and he is brushing the hair away from her covered face. "let's go out and get drinks tonight with the group. leia, dalton and i swore off girls tonight, and xyriel promised no boys."
she closes her eyes when he has successfully cleared her face from her hair. "that's very sweet, but i really just want to stay in and watch a movie tonight."
"all by yourself?" logan sighs again. "you're going to watch a movie all by yourself on our first night in the bahamas?"
"yeah, the sound of the beach waves really fit the vibe. i was thinking of watching 'forgetting sarah marshall'."
"that kinda blows. sitting by the beach and getting drinks would obviously do you more benefits. it fills up your daily dose of human interaction too."
"i've been interacting with humans all day - we were at the airport where oscar was recognised by those guys, remember?"
"are you still upset about that?"
"yeah, a little! i really needed to pee."
"okay, what do i have to do to convince you to come down and at least grab dinner with us?"
she stares at him blankly, actually contemplating his offer. "you're that desperate to get me out of bed?"
"yeah, lily was asking if you'd be joining tonight."
she groans, slowly scrambling to climb out of her bed. "okay, fine. but you're paying for my bill tonight."
"great! go get ready!"
"see, this is fun, right?" logan smiles, leaning back into the cushion of the couch they managed to snag up in the corner of the boardwalk. "aren't you glad you came out to spend time with us?"
"yeah, i can't believe it," she answer monotonously, sipping on her mango shake. she watches logan lean forward to put his drink down before sinking into the couch once more. the stoic that paints her face slowly contorts into horror as she watches logan swing his arm back to rest on the area that's directly behind her.
her head snaps to the couch directly across her, widening her eyes at xyriel. "help me," she mouths.
xyriel shrugs at her with a sly mouth tugging at the ends of her mouth. the older girl simply starts to sip on her cocktail and tears her eyes off the struggling-to-keep-her-cool girl.
"ah, i know," logan mutters, sitting up in excitement. he slaps her knee gently. "let's go to the dance floor over there!"
she feels her heart start to race, and she's almost sure that it's going faster than humanly possible. she feels her cheeks start to heat up, her arms start to shake, the thoughts in her head start to blur themselves out and she almost slides off the couch the moment their eyes meet.
"maybe not."
"you never wanna do anything?" logan's statement comes out as a question, throwing his arms in the air. "did you even want to come with us to the bahamas?"
"okay, okay!" she throws her hands up in the air to surrender. "you're right - this is our last vacation before the second half of the year."
"exactly! so, let's go!" logan pushes himself off the couch and beckons for her to get up. he steps aside to let her walk ahead but does not notice the way she calls out for help from leia as she leaves their table. "join us when you guys are done eating!"
"ah, be safe!" oscar calls out right before he feeds himself a spoonful of the carbonara he's ordered.
"don't get lost!" dalton, logan's brother, calls out to them with a laugh.
"so, what's it to you? you're singling me out so i can help you find girls in the meantime or something?" she teases, his hands on her shoulders making her feel slightly giddy. she opens her mouth as they walk past the bar counter, hand darting out to tap this random girl on the shoulder. "have you met f2 dri-"
"sorry," logan apologises to the random girl sat at the bar, yanking his best friend away from the counter in horror. "why did you do that?"
"is that not why you pulled me out?"
"no, i genuinely invited you out to the dance floor with me!" logan frowns, smacking her shoulder gently. "i know you didn't wanna go to the bahamas."
"what?" she sings in guilt, turning to glance at him as he pushes past the crowd. "what makes you say that?"
"i can see it in your face," logan mutters with a roll of his eyes. "and you? say no to drinking in a foreign country? no way."
"what are you talking about? i'm not legal to drink here, logan. i'm not 21," she whispers, finally stopping in her tracks to turn to him. "you sound like you've drunk too much already."
"good thing we've got xyriel to get us all drinks, duh," logan answers softly, turning her back around to the direction of the dance floor. "time to show me your dance moves."
"see, we had so much fun!" logan slurs, leaning into her slightly as they walk across the dark pool area after closing time of the resort's club. "aren't you glad you came out with us?"
"i am! you're right - i had a lot of fun tonight," she nods, pushing him up gently to keep him upright.
while the rest of the group decided to tap out early from their night out, logan had whined and insisted that he wanted to see the club vibes through and through. he wasn't leaving until he was kicked out.
their friends raised their eyebrow at them, but she reassured them that she will yank logan back to their shared villa one way or another. even if it meant dragging him across the cobblestone bricks that riddled the entire resort.
so here they are, stumbling right by the villas that would lead to their own.
"but did you have fun with me, though? on the dance floor?" logan grins, slinging his arm lazily around her shoulders. he reels her into his side, pressing his lips against her temples for a wet and sloppy kiss. "i had fun with you."
"it's always fun with you, what do you mean?" she smiles, leaning into his lips as she wraps her arm around his waist.
she'd also given in to drinking a little bit more that night, and admittedly having fun. now they're both buzzed, and she has an excuse to be touchy with him. if it backfires when she does something unusual with him, she will just blame it on the alcohol.
"yeah, you like me more than oscar, don't you?" logan teases, scrunching his nose as he glances at her. "i'm your favourite friend."
she laughs, nodding to appease the drunken state of her best friend. "sure, logan."
"well, now i don't believe you," logan states, pulling away from her. he stomps his foot on the ground and folds his arms over his chest, turning his face away from her. "i don't like the tone in which you said that so you obviously don't mean it."
she turns around, eyebrows raising at his behaviour. "logan, it's late. let's debate this in the villa, okay?"
"nope, not until i'm convinced that i'm your favourite person in the whole wide world."
"logan? are you serious?"
"yes!"
"logan," she sings gently, walking over to him with her arms extended to grab his arms. "let's just go. you're super drunk and we're here for like four days. you don't want to spend tomorrow hungover in bed."
he whimpers, shoulders slumping slightly. he drops his chin to look down at her. "but you would take care of me if i'm too hungover to function tomorrow, right?"
"like i've been doing since you turned 18 two years ago," she laughs, her hands finally making contact with his arms. "let's go, mate?"
"no," logan breathes out, pulling her back into him when she attempted to guide him in the direction of the villas. "stay here with me for a minute."
"what's wrong?" worry paints her face as he starts acting calmer than before. her eyes follow logan's hands, lifted up to her face as he tries to brush back her stray hair behind her ears. "are you alright?"
"have i ever told you," he pauses to trace a line down her cheek with his fingertips, "how pretty you are?"
"only when you're drunk," she whispers back with a playful smile. "did you ingest some kind of poison and you've only got a couple minutes to live? is that why you're like this?"
"no," he shakes his head. a small smile appears on his face, tucking a finger under his chin to lift her eyes up to meet his. "i just think you look very pretty. i don't tell you that often."
she admits she almost felt her knees buckle at his words and melt on the ground at his words. logan had never been a very outwardly affectionate type unless he's drunk, so while this is expected behaviour out of him, it's never gotten quite as intimate as this.
she's had him fall asleep with his head in her lap before on the couch, but never has he been this close to her while whispering sweet words at her.
"it would be weird."
"it shouldn't be."
"logan, are you alright?"
he doesn't respond. and she freezes in her spot when his hand drags along her skin, cupping her cheek as he leans down into her. her eyes widen when he closes the gap between them and she has to forcibly swallow the scream bubbling from her stomach when their lips touch.
it's not her first kiss, but it may as well be.
"he what?" lily gasps, eyes popping out her head as she closes the door behind her. "logan kissed you last night?"
beneath the duvet that covered the bed, a head of hair pops out. she pushes her hair out of her face with squinted eyes and a prominent frown. "i am sleeping, lily."
"i know, but you texted me at 4am telling me that logan kissed you on the way back to the villa. am i supposed to just ignore that when it's the first text message i saw when i woke up?"
the girl scans her friend's outfit, nodding in understanding. lily's hair is still in a pair of braided pigtails, running down her shoulders, jumping over to her bed in pink pyjamas.
"did he say anything after that? did he confess something to you?" lily interrogates her, jumping into her bed excitedly with a squeal on her lips. "oh, my god! you're going to be with logan? oh, i'm so excited! we can go on double dates and go out and do couple stuff!"
she sighs, moving further into her bed to make space for the brit to lie with her. "i don't know what it means."
"you don't know what it means?" the excitement in lily's voice falters immediately. "what do you mean by that?"
"he smiled at me after he pulled away," she says, resting her cheek onto her palm as she recounts the hazy memories of their walk back to the villa. "and then he vomited."
"he hurled? after kissing you?"
"he did drink a lot, so i guess i'm not that offended."
"he hurled? i'm going to kick his ass, (y/n)! what the hell?"
"lily, calm down. it's way too early for you to be this mad," she whines, desperately taking lily's wrist into her hand. while she's not hungover, she is, however, quite affected by the alcohol and the lack of sleep. "inner voice, lils."
"how you're not fuming at his immediate reaction after kissing you is killing me!" lily grunts in a soft voice, smacking her arm. "why are you just letting him kiss you without saying anything else? what's it even mean?"
"we'll talk about it later," she giggles, pressing her lips together. she presses her fingertips against her lips, trying her best to remember how logan's lips felt against hers just hours prior.
the way she tasted vodka on his lips; she doesn't even typically lean towards the liquor but it tasted so good on him.
excitement bubbles in her chest again, now scrambling to sit up on her bed to meet lily's height. "oh, my god, logan kissed me!"
a scowl permanently carves her face as her eyes are trained on the other end of the yacht. there, logan stands, leaning against the wall with a beer pint in hand while the girl standing in front of him throws her head back to giggle.
"calm down, he's not even that funny," she mutters under her breath, sipping on her cocktail for a couple of seconds.
"cocktail, not juice," oscar cries, reaching out to pinch her straw and pulls it out of her mouth. "what is your problem, mate?"
"thirsty," she answers, opening her mouth to lean down to land a bite on his hand. oscar quickly retracts his hand away from her, gasping when she glares at him. "mind your business, oscar!"
"i thought you were finally starting to open up to the thought of holidays at the bahamas? what's wrong now?"
"what's right," lily scoffs, throwing her arms in the air as she rolls her eyes. "look at your stupid friend, babe."
oscar raises his eyebrows in confusion as he follows the driver's gaze to their friend, now one step closer to the girl he's talking to. "what's wrong? this is normal behaviour for logan." he turns to his best friend in confusion. "you know that, you literally helped him snag dates in the club."
she turns her head slowly to look at oscar, maintaining her unimpressed stare as she waits for him to connect the dots. "seriously?"
it takes a couple of seconds of oscar looking back and forth between her and logan before it connects. his jaw drops to look at her with an accusing finger up to point at her. "something happened last night when we left. what did you do? did you fuck?"
"oscar!" lily gasps.
"ew!" she scowls, flicking his forehead. "no, we didn't fuck!"
"then what is it?"
she rolls her eyes, leaning into him to confess. "we kissed last night."
"you kissed?" oscar screams, jumping in his seat.
"shut up!" she hushes him, pulling him back down to sit. she glances at logan then tears her eyes away when she catches his curious stare. "mate, can you be any more subtle than that? i don't think the entire yacht heard you."
"you kissed?" oscar repeats through gritted teeth, leaning into her whispering. "are you fucking kidding me? are you guys absolutely crazy?"
"he kissed me! ask him?"
"but he's with that girl."
"yeah, ask him why he's flirting with her too!"
oscar pauses. "he's not flirting with her."
they turn their heads simultaneously to the boy across the yacht. by that point, logan's practically pressed up against the girl with her hand on his shoulder.
"okay, so he's flirting with her," oscar mutters, turning back to her with a soft hiss and a sheepish and apologetic smile. "you've never let things like this pass. do something."
"flirt with that guy over there," lily suggests, shyly pointing to another blonde at the table right next to theirs. she hides her smile behind oscar's shoulder with a giggle. "he's been staring at you for a while. i swear he pointed at you while he whispered in xyriel's ear earlier."
"what?" she frowns. "i'm not like that."
"you're just going to let logan kiss you then flirt with other girls to your face the next day?" oscar points out. if there's one thing oscar loves, it's drama.
not so much when it's his best friends in the thick of it, but he can't stand the fact that his younger best friend is being screwed over by their older best friend. perhaps logan needs to meet someone who can level out the playing field?
either way, if she doesn't want to level it out, he will do it himself.
and it's just confusing for him because he can very clearly remember logan still pining over her right before they left for the bahamas.
"go, go talk to him," oscar says, flicking his hands towards the other direction to send her on a mission. "trust us. we know how to get logan to talk to you about that kiss."
her stare lingers on the couple, both smiling mischievously at her as she contemplates. "you guys are kinda scary. have i ever told you that?"
"just go," lily scolds, shoving her gently to push her off the couch.
she stumbles forward, giggling nervously as she shyly approaches the table. oscar leans back into his girlfriend, lily wrapping an arm around his shoulder from behind him, her chin resting on the other as they watch the scene in front of them unfold.
their eyes dart from logan to her every couple of seconds, starting to giggle softly when they see logan do a double-take when he sees her leaning against the back of the sofa of the other table.
oscar mutters, "look, now he's getting irritated."
logan's eyebrows furrow and a frown turns his lips downwards when she scooches into the middle of the friends that are sandwiched together.
it's not long before logan approaches them, leaving the girl he was just talking to hanging. they look up at the older boy with innocent doe eyes, eyebrows raising as if to ask him what he's approached them for.
even though they knew the exact reason why.
"what is she doing with them? isn't she supposed to be sitting with you guys?" logan points out, briefly pointing out the girl at the other table. she's sandwiched between xyriel and another guy, his arm wrapped around her shoulders as she laughs and sips on her margarita.
lily shrugs. "i guess xyriel called her over. what's the issue?"
"yeah, mate," oscar challenges him softly, "you ditched us for miss brunette over there. we weren't complaining."
logan clears his throat, taking a deep breath. clearly agitated by the situation, he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes to downplay his irritation. "whatever."
as he walks back to his previous spot, he can't help but let his glare linger on the younger girl. as fate would have it, she looks up to catch his eyes.
a pang of guilt hits him, but he continues walking forward anyway.
taglist: @myxticmoon
#logan sargeant#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#female driver#fem!driver#f1 female driver#f1 x you#f1#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#disneyprincemuke ial
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archons ft. reincarnation
venti, zhongli, raiden ei x gn!reader
summary: you were dead—until you appeared again hundreds of years later, that same smile on your lips that made them fall for you centuries ago.
word count: 4.6k
note: first time posting my work on tumblr!
warning/s: spoilers for venti’s story quest and raiden shogun’s story quest act i & ii, angst, brief descriptions of past character death (reader)
part 2
VENTI
Venti’s fingers glide through the strings of his lyre, the perpetually gloomy weather exacerbating the melancholic undertone of his song.
“The outside world…” you muse, sitting beside your bard of a friend, watching the towering castle in the distance where your possessive god resides. “I wonder what it’s like.”
Small, melodic bells chime from your shoulder. You turn your head in order to face the wind spirit you call a friend. His little face is scrunched up, as if he’s regaling you tales of the scenery beyond Mondstadt. You don’t understand him, none of you do, but you indulge him with a smile anyway.
“Mhm. Oh, is that so? Yeah, I think so too. That seems lovely!” He bobs his head in agreement with your words, and you laugh at the adorable sight. You return your gaze to the castle by the distance, a wistful look in your eyes. “I’d like to see it one day. I bet the sky is so blue and the lands stretch on for miles and miles until you lose sight of the other end. The weather would be warmer too, because the sun would always be out.”
The little wind sprite lets out a tinkling sound. You don’t know what he’s trying to tell you, but you pretend that you do.
“Yeah. I wonder if the grass is greener outside of Mondstadt. It must be. There wouldn’t be constant rain over there so the plants won’t always be so damp and mushy. The sky must be full of birds, all of them just flying freely without a care in the world.”
Your bard of a friend listens quietly to your musings, now playing a softer song with his lyre. In contrast, your little spirit friend circles around your head, chiming something and pointing to the castle in the distance with his little hood.
For once, you think you understand what he’s trying to say. “Lord Decarabian, huh?” Something in you brews uncomfortably as you mention your god, so you try to lighten the atmosphere, “I don’t think he’ll agree even if we ask very nicely.”
Your little friend lets out a series of bell chimes that somehow lets you know what he thinks about your little joke. It’s only when Venti suddenly stops playing his lyre that the wind spirit quiets down.
You turn to him questioningly, finding him already looking at you with those blue eyes of his, always so bright despite being born in a perpetually gloomy city. There’s a contemplative frown on his face as he moves his gaze from you, to your little friend, to the castle in the center of the city.
Finally, he opens his mouth.
“Then let’s not ask,” he says, his eyes fixed on the looming castle. “He keeps his people in this city and forces us to call it freedom, but what is freedom if demanded of you by a god?”
“Venti…” you say in warning. Somehow, you get the feeling you’re not going to like what he’s about to say.
Somehow, you get the feeling you’re going to agree anyway.
He smiles at you and the wind sprite you call a friend, bright and optimistic. “I want to see the outside world too, so let’s fight to see it. Together.”
“Together,” you repeat, looking at him and your little friend. “A bard, a warrior, and a wind sprite. Sounds like the beginning of a long tale.” You gaze at the castle in the distance once more. “I wonder how it will end.”
Venti laughs. “It’ll be a happy ending. I’ll make sure of it.”
Bell chimes ring in the air as the small wind sprite circles the air in front of you, exclaiming his agreement to Venti’s words.
A thought occurs to you.
“Well, a tale isn’t complete if one of the main characters is nameless,” you say, offering your palm for him to rest in. Your little friend hops into it, sighing little happy bells.
A name. What name would suit him, you wonder. Looking up at the sky above, nothing sparks any inspiration. There’s only dark clouds holding the threat of rain. If you look closely enough, you think you can peek through those clouds and see something resembling the blue sky of the world outside. Wishful thinking, of course, the clouds in Mondstadt are thick enough to cover miles in the sky.
But if you squint an eye and tilt your head to the left, you think you can see a hint of a silhouette, something floating far above—
Then you avert your gaze back to your friend resting in the palm of your hands. A gust of wind blows past you. Maybe it’s premonition, or maybe you just wanted the best for him, but in that moment, you imagine that out of the three of you, it is this little spirit in your hands who will achieve the greatest of things.
A name pops up in your mind and begins to take root. “What do you think of the name Barbatos?”
He immediately zips up, twirling in the air in front of you and nuzzling your cheek affectionately. And just like that, the moment is broken, and he is back to being just your little friend.
“You like it, huh?” His answer comes in the form of a series of tinkling bells. You smile. “It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?”
✧
Two thousand and six hundred years later, the wind spirit turned archon stands on a raised platform, a lyre in hand and performing a song he hasn’t sung in five hundred years.
A bell chimes, signifying an entry to the door of the tavern, such an innocuous sound for the impending tragedy he is about to relive.
The last chord is strung. The crowd claps, disperses and thins. A lone figure makes their way to the front.
Someone clears their throat.
He looks up.
And suddenly he is back to that day millennia ago, just a little wind sprite tinkling bells in the palm of your hand. An apple for breakfast, lunch and dinner, your teasing remarks about how he isn’t going to be able to fly anymore if he keeps gaining weight. The song of the friend he embodies resonating with his soul.
How simple life had been, back when dreams of revolution and gods were just that: dreams.
Hushed talks of freedom between each round of song, the wistful look on your face as you mused how vast the outside world must be. Full of plains and lush grass, you imagined. And when Barbatos left the ruins of Old Mondstadt, one third of a whole, he made your dreams come true as he flattened mountains and brought warm winds to fend away the cold.
He only wished all three of you had been there to see it, instead of just him alone.
“What a lovely song! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you perform here in Angel’s Share before. What’s your name?” You smile at him, all soft and lovely with a hint of nostalgia in the corner of your eyes. As beautiful as the day he lost you.
He never realized how much he’d started to forget what you looked like until you appeared right in front of him, a ghost from two thousand years past.
Do you remember him? Do you miss him as much as he’s missed you? Will you forgive him for not letting go of the past, for taking on the appearance of your beloved friend? Have you been well? Do you have many friends? Any family?
Is there someone you hold dear to your heart already, someone who holds you close, who would never let you fight alone. Someone who won’t kneel helplessly as you died in their arms, smiling amidst the numbing pain from the gaping wound in your chest. Have you already found someone who will protect and care for you, because if not, then—
In this life, will you finally love him the way he loves you?
What’s your name?
His name, the name you gave him, is on the tip of his tongue. Barbatos, it’s a pretty name, isn’t it? And he was never able to tell you how much he agreed with you, how much he loved the name you gave him. He wants to tell you how he’s made Barbatos more than just a little wind spirit, wants to ask if you’re proud of him for achieving the freedom you once sought for—but most of all, he wants to tell you how much he loves you for giving him his name, his identity.
When the drinks become too much and his mind muddles the distinction between himself and his friend—is he Venti, or is it someone else?—he tries to remember you and the way his name rolled off your tongue. Barbatos. On his worst days, when everything becomes too much, when he tries to remember the way your voice sounded only to realize that he’s starting to forget, he says it to himself.
Barbatos.
Barbatos.
Barbatos.
It’s a pretty name, isn’t it?
And he smiles to himself and says yes out loud, and the other patrons will think he’s had too much to drink again, and he’ll shrug off their judging gazes and ignore the bartender’s disapproving look because finally, he remembers what you once sounded like as you spoke his name.
He wants to tell you how much you’ve done for him, even if you weren’t here with him.
But he bites back his tongue and puts on a well practiced smile, ignoring the twinge in his heart at the lack of recognition in your eyes.
“The name’s—” Barbatos “—Venti! And who might you be, oh beautiful stranger?”
The sound of your laughter soothes two thousand and six hundred years worth of pain within the span of a few seconds. He keeps the memory of it locked in his chest. It is ridiculous, the ease with which you burrow yourself back into his heart with just a laugh—though in hindsight, perhaps it isn’t so ridiculous after all. You never really left his heart even after thousands of years.
As your name falls from your lips, Venti decides it’s alright if you don’t remember him, that it’s alright if the name you call him now isn’t the name you gave him long ago.
Just being able to see you again is enough.
ZHONGLI
“I am thinking of retiring.”
You lean your elbows on the wooden railings, resting your face in the palm of your hands as you looked up at him. “Retiring? I don’t think Hu Tao would approve.”
“No, no,” he clarifies, “Not in Wangsheng Funeral. I have…another job that I wish to retire from.”
“You have two jobs, Zhongli? Never would have guessed with how relaxed you always are.” He cracks a faint smile at that.
“My other job is not very demanding of my time. Nevertheless, it holds an important role in Liyue.” The wind blows against him, his hair billowing in the breeze as he stood above the harbor. Somehow, you imagine him in white, a hood pulled over his head and a spear in his hand as he gazed down an imaginary foe in the sea.
The image leaves a strange feeling in you, so you quickly shake it away from your thoughts and focus on his earlier words.
“Are you some kind of big shot? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?! Here I was talking to you so casually—” Your eyes widen in realization. “Ah! You were undercover this whole time, weren’t you? Are you gonna report me to the Tianquan for disrespect—” You’re interrupted by the sound of Zhongli’s soft laughter.
He gazes at you with such soft amber eyes you’re almost half-inclined to believe it’s the sun playing tricks on you.
How mesmerizing. How familiar. You think you’ve seen this sight before, you just can’t put a finger when.
“My work is not that kind of work. It is…complicated, to say the least. You need not worry about any perceived disrespect, I don’t mind at all.”
Your shoulders slump in relief. “Oh, thank Rex Lapis. I thought I was about to face the wrath of the rock or something.”
He stills, hands clenching against the railings for the briefest of moments before relaxing. It goes unnoticed by you. “Wrath of the rock… I don’t believe I have spoken such words in your presence before.”
“Really?” You turn to him with furrowed brows. Now that you think about it, you don’t think he’s ever said that phrase before. How strange, where did it come from then? “Must’ve been something I read somewhere. You talk like an old man so much, Zhongli, I’m starting to confuse words from old books with your ramblings.”
Looking away, he stares past the railings and into the harbor below, something almost melancholic in his eyes. “Perhaps.”
“So,” you say to distract him from whatever caused that look to form in his eyes, “Are you really retiring?”
He looks at you, still with those sad, sad eyes that makes something in you churn uncomfortably. So you place a hand on his shoulder, ignoring the way his eyes widen at the gesture, and you give him the brightest smile you can muster.
“Well, whatever you choose to do, I’ll support you all the way!” And maybe your words got through to him, or maybe he saw something in your smile, but Zhongli chuckles, deep and rumbling. You once said it sounded like a dragon’s, and his face twisted into something you couldn’t quite read.
“Ever the optimist,” he tells you, fondness replacing that melancholic look in his eyes. “It is one of the many aspects that I admire about you.”
Your face heats up. Looking away from that affectionate look, you attempt to make light of his words. “H-Ha! Don’t go falling for me now, Zhongli. I’ll break your heart if you do!”
(You already have, Zhongli thinks, his heart beating a painful yet nostalgic tune in his chest.)
He waves your words away.
“Of course, such is to be expected of you,” he says idly, almost cryptically. You’re tempted to ask what that means, but he has the frustrating habit of pretending to be oblivious when he doesn’t want to answer a question, even though you can totally see through the act.
“Now back to the original topic!” You’re back to leaning your arms against the railings. Zhongli follows your actions by resting his gloved hands on the polished wood. “So, retirement, huh?”
He hums. “I was uncertain this morning, but our conversation has been quite enlightening. I have you to thank for solidifying my decision.” You watch him look over Liyue’s harbor, at the people down by the docks all working together like pieces in a cog. There’s something like pride in Zhongli’s eyes as he stares at the people. “Liyue is in good hands, is it not?”
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I guess you’re right. Lady Nigguang’s a real scary one, but she’s the best at her job. The Yuheng can afford to take a break now and then, but Keqing’s great at whatever she puts her mind in. Captain Beidou’s not exactly a government official, but she’s a known figure of the people, and she’s got a real good head on her shoulders—not to mention, real fun to hang out with!” You snicker at the memory of getting into a drinking contest with her. You lost, obviously, but the experience was worth it.
It’s then that you realize you haven’t mentioned the most important person in all of Liyue.
“And Rex Lapis…” Zhongli seems to straighten at the mention of your archon. “He only comes down to Liyue once a year now in the past few centuries. Well, that’s to be expected since Liyue’s at peace now. I guess even gods need to rest every now and then.”
(Something in his chest twists at your words.)
“Yes, they do, don’t they?” he agrees, his voice solemn.
You nod. “He’s probably over in Celestia partying with the other gods. You think he’s shacking it up with his partner up there? Heh, at least one of us is getting some.”
The reaction you receive is unexpected, but pleasantly surprising nonetheless.
Zhongli lets out a full blown laugh, head tilted back and shoulders shaking, eyes closed with mirth. You stare with your jaw open, unable to take your eyes off him even as his laughter begins to die down. It looks just like—
A man in white robes, veins of gold running down his arms as he held his stomach. His head tilted back, the ground shaking with the force of his laughter, his hood falling down to reveal familiar amber eyes gazing at you with mirth, fondness lurking beneath his smile—
“Ah, I truly have missed this.” Missed you, he doesn’t say, but you hear it all the same.
You decide that critical thinking really isn’t for you, so you brush away the strange not-memory and the feelings that rise up when he looks at you like that.
Teasingly, you grin at him. “Aw, Zhongli, it was only a week yet you missed me that much? Don’t worry, I missed you too.”
The quirk in his lips seems to tell you that he expected such an answer from you.
He then turns his head up, gazing into the mid-afternoon sky, your teasing forgotten.
“Once I retire, allow me to invite you for an afternoon of drinking osmanthus wine. I recently discovered a merchant selling top quality wine, and once i acquired a taste, it truly was—as per the merchant’s words—as if you have been taken back to a thousand years ago.”
There’s a quip waiting to to be said at the tip of your tongue, a joke at how he’s secretly been an old grandpa this entire time, but you swallow back the urge to let out the lighthearted joke.
There’s a fragility to this moment that you can’t quite put a finger on, so you hold back your usual retort and mull over your decision.
“I’d like that,” you say after a few heartbeats.
Zhongli smiles, and this time it’s less delicate, more sure of himself.
“I look forward to it.”
✧
You nearly barf once the liquid enters your mouth. All those drinking contests with Beidou has made your stomach weak. But the sight of Zhongli serenely sipping his own osmanthus wine reminds you to have enough tact not to mention how bad it tastes for you.
To delay your second sip, you decide to ask, “How is it?”
Zhongli places his cup down, the procelain making a soft noise as it meets the saucer. He then looks up, sees you holding your own cup of osmanthus wine and trying not to look constipated at the taste, and he smiles at the familiar sight.
“It tastes the same as I remember.”
EI
“Oh my, Your Eternal Excellency! It’s an honor to have your most exalted presence in the Yae Publishing House!”
Her entire world stops, suspended in a haze, narrowing down to this little booth in a random street in the city of Inazuma. Time stretches on for eternity, while the god chasing it is stuck staring at the sight of a familiar, beautiful, ephemeral mirage.
There’s a friendly smile on your lips, not a hint of nervousness at being in the presence of a god such as herself. You’ve always been so fearless. Brave and courageous and stupid and self-sacrificing. Ei loved and hated that attribute of yours, back when she was still capable of loving someone without ruining them.
“Ei? Are you alright?”
For a moment, she lets herself believe it was your voice that spoke those words to her. Soft, soothing tones that once lulled her to rest after a day of training non-stop to improve her martial skills, back when a kagemusha like her was still granted the luxury of rest.
Sleep, Ei. Even gods need some shut eye.
But this is one of the many flaws of ephemerality—the moment for engaging in selfish delusions ends far too soon.
It takes all of her willpower to tear her gaze from you in order to face the Traveler.
“Yes, just a little surprised.” Years and years of experience has taught her to control her voice. It will not waver, not even in the presence of her once-dead lover.
“You sure? You kinda spaced out for a while back there,” the floating pixie who calls herself Paimon remarks.
“Yes, I am quite fine,” she says.
Although, is she truly? Perhaps not, but five hundred years of solitude has hardened her. Had this been before, perhaps she would have wept upon seeing you again, alive and whole and not painting the grass with a pool of your own blood.
Ei directs her attention to the Traveler. “Now, what were you saying about those light novels?”
For the rest of her time in the Yae Publishing House, she spends it dutifully avoiding your curious gaze. Even going so far as to wait by the railings as the Traveler picked a light novel for her to read.
She heard you speak to the Traveler once, making a suggestion regarding the selection.
“I think she’ll like this one!”
You were right, she did like it.
✧
Ei tries not to, but every time she ventures out of Tenshukaku to see more of her people, she passes by the Yae Publishing House that you, more often than not, watch over.
✧
The leylines near the roots of the Sacred Sakura Tree are being strange.
Walking with the Traveler after the disappearance of Furuyama, the blind tea-brewer, is solemn. The path they’re traversing in is painfully familiar. She tries not to remember what the scenery would have looked like five hundred years ago.
A twig snaps. She and the Traveler whirl at the direction of the noise—
And Ei is once again faced with the ghost of her past.
“Ei, is it really you?”
She has seen you in this era, wearing a kind smile and modern clothes. Always so welcoming despite the strangeness of the Raiden Shogun visiting a light novel store every other week. No, your appearance is not what makes her stumble, makes her breathless and teary-eyed as she closes the remaining distance between you.
It is the way you are looking at her. Because finally, finally there is recognition in your eyes.
You are solid beneath her touch, not an apparition, not a mirage. Your armor digs into her skin as she embraces you, her heart the lightest it’s been in five hundred years.
You’re sweaty and dirty and a little bit bloody, but Ei has seen you in the worst state possible. Dirtying her immaculate clothing is a small price to pay for this brief moment.
The Traveler watches with wide eyes, reconciling the image of the warrior in worn, outdated armor with the kind, cheerful editor of the Yae Publishing House.
“I was starting to lose hope,” you tell her, voice low with a quiet sort of relief. The smile she receives makes her feel young again, a kagemusha who fell in love with one of her sister’s retainers. “Now that you’re here, I’m sure everything will be alright.”
The future you speak of is nonexistent. The moment you died—her last hope, the only remaining light in her life after the death of her sister and companions—everything became a far cry from alright.
But Ei will tell you none of this. Your current self is safe in Inazuma City, living in the future she created with her own hands. But you of the past, the one she loved dearly, you know nothing of this future, of what will happen—had happened—to you, and she will keep it that way.
Perhaps this is just her way of attempting to alleviate her guilt upon your death, but she wants this ghost of you to move on with the knowledge that everything will be fine, even if all of it is a lie.
This time, it is her that prompts you to rest your head on her lap, stroking your hair and watching you be lulled to sleep.
“Rest now. I will handle the rest.”
Your eyes flutter closed for the final time, taking her hand in yours. You leave her with parting words that will resonate deep within her soul for the rest of eternity.
“You don’t have to do everything alone, Ei.”
✧
One would think that after battling herself for five hundred years, her first words to her dear friend would be to ask how Inazuma is, but perhaps five hundred years has made her a bit more selfish. So instead, she asks about you.
“How is…?” Ei doesn’t need to mention your name for Yae to know who she’s referring to.
“Oh, still delightful as ever, that one. Asks about you often, though. Far too often, in my opinion. Why, if I didn’t know any better I’d have thought I was only being approached so I can be the relayer of any news relating to you.” Yae shakes her head fondly. “Even without memories of your time together, that little one is still so smitten with you.”
Ei’s cheeks turns a light shade of pink. At the sound of Yae’s snicker, she turns a frown at the devious kitsune.
“Miko…”
“Oh, come now. Can’t a girl have a little bit of fun? Although, none of what I said was untrue.” Yae’s tone softens just the slightest bit, knowing the delicacy of anything regarding you. After a moment though, a sly smile makes its way to her lips. “If you have any tips on how to woo someone, be sure to tell me, Ei. Authors these days just have no imagination for romance, always so dry and boring.”
It’s a simple teasing remark, one of many that Yae is prone to saying. Ei shouldn’t respond to it, but she can’t help but say the first word that comes to her mind.
“Gifts.”
✧
“Your Eternal Excellency!”
The genuine surprise in your face leaves her amused. You quickly attempt to fix your messy hair and rumpled clothes. Had it been anyone else, she would have thought them lazy for being so unkempt, but you manage to make even the smallest of things endearing.
She supposes some things stay the same, even in a new life and a new era.
“I came to bring you a gift,” she says, holding out the Raiden Shogun statue that was sent to the Tenshukaku that morning.
You stare at the object with wide eyes, like you’re unable to believe that your archon is giving you an actual gift instead of the other way around.
When she set out in search of you that afternoon, she thought giving you something would be a good gesture. Although, in hindsight, gifting you a statue of herself may come off as conceited of her. Ah, she really should ask someone for advice before she approaches you next time.
Before she can apologize and return the statue, you’re already taking it from her hands, a look of wonder crossing your face as you inspected it.
“This was sold out hours ago! I was planning on buying one but I got there too late!” Casual. You speak so casually, as if the person you’re speaking to isn’t the Almighty Narukami Ogosho, God of Thunder.
As if the person you’re speaking to is simply her, Ei. Not the Raiden Shogun. Not the Electro Archon. Just Ei.
You give her your best smile. “Thank you.”
Can a person still be the same person even without their memories?
Ei doesn’t know, but perhaps she’ll find out soon.
part 2
#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin impact x reader#archons x reader#venti x reader#zhongli x reader#ei x reader#raiden ei x reader#raiden shogun x reader#gn reader
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[image description: a blue toned series of drawings titled “top 3 tattoo ideas for if i lose my nipples after top surgery”. the first is titled “This Is Not A Nipple”. it is a close up of the nipple area with the nipple being labelled “tattoo of a nipple” and words tattooed across the top of the scar “ce n’est pas un téton”.
the second is titled “my eyes are down here” and is of the torso of a chubby person with light skin, who has a double incision scar thats connected in the middle. where the nipples would be, instead are two styalised eye tattoos. the 3rd image is another close up titled “pizza but one of the peperonis is where the nipple should be and the crust is the scar”. pictured is exactly as the name suggests, and upside down pizza where the scar forms the crust and one of the peperoni slices looks like a nipple. end id]
before surgery i was indifferent to if i wanted to keep my nipples or not, so i drew this as a fun thought on what i would do if i lost them anyway.
if you are recovering from top surgery and look at your nipple and think 'oh fuck its going to fall off' then good news! they won't. that's just what a healing nipple looks like. trust me bro, i've been there.
i thought my scars would look like the middle one when i drew this but they ended up not connected in the middle and also higher and more noticable on the armpits. i did keep my nipples however. different size than they used to be but i never really cared about my nipple size anyway.
did end up getting this as a print for the art festival i did in september, and people did buy this one so im counting as a win! putting it on redbubble now, so if anyone still wants this as a print then it’ll be there. i really need to get around to opening that etsy huh.
#trans#transgender#transmasc#top surgery#lgbtq#if anyone's curious#i probably would have gone with the eyes if i lost my nips
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WHERE DO WE GO NOW? - CH. 2 | 14th Doctor
Chapter Two: All Our Best Years Are Behind
Summary: With the TARDIS out of control, you three end up stranded on a spaceship. Unbeknownst to you all, you're not the only one on board.
Pairing: 14th Doctor x Fem!Reader
Warnings: Hurt-to-Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Possible Plot Holes, Vague Background, Aliens, Mild Horror, Violence, Past Trauma, Depression, Anxiety, Timey-Wimey Stuff, Star-Crossed Lovers, Second Chance, Character Death, Mention of Su!c!de,
Word Count: 11.7k
A/N: Tbh, this chapter took a while for me to write because of all the holiday shopping I needed to do tehe! Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter and as you know I thrive for feedback, reblogs and comments. Thank you for all the love you've given so far to this series and I can't wait to start writing the next chapter because I have a bunch of ideas swirling around in my mind hehe. Also, please note that English isn't my first language, please forgive me for any grammatical errors or wrong spelling etc. Love you loads!
Song: anything (demo) by Dodie
Previous Chapter → Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist
Dividers by @/saradika-graphics
ENGLAND, 1666 — MORNING
The TARDIS collides with an unknown object, sending you and Donna tumbling through the room. Donna clings to the railing for stability, but you, unfortunately, lose your balance. As you teeter on the edge of falling, the Doctor swiftly intervenes, grabbing your waist and pulling you close. Your bodies collide in the chaotic scenario as flames and sparks whirl around the console.
The Doctor gently cradles your head with one hand, conducting a swift but thorough assessment for any injuries. Satisfied with the examination, he presses a tender kiss to the top of your head. With a determined look, he retrieves a piece of the console, swiftly making his way to the TARDIS doors. His focus shifts to triangulating your current location and time, a sense of urgency evident in his movements.
You, the Doctor and Donna pop your head out the TARDIS and you can see a bright blue clear morning sky and it seems that you have crashed into an apple tree. You look down to see a man holding an apple while looking up at the three of you in disbelief.
The Doctor, with a quirky smile, introduces you and Donna to the stranger he's just encountered. His charm radiates as he explains, "Oh! Sorry, we’re just slightly out of control. This is my fiancée, Stargazer. My friend, Donna..." He playfully gestures towards Donna, who greets the stranger with a friendly grin, "This is Donna. Donna Noble."
"Hi!" Donna chimes in cheerfully.
The Doctor, ever the quick thinker, continues, "Just dropped some coffee into the console." Donna interjects with a light-hearted assurance, "But don’t worry. He’s got a time machine, which means he can blame me for all eternity."
Ignoring Donna's quip, the Doctor turns to the perplexed man and earnestly asks, "I just need to triangulate. Could you tell me what year this is?"
The man, clearly taken aback, responds, "It’s 1666."
You and the Doctor exchange puzzled glances, your lips puckering in unison as you simultaneously warn the stranger, "Oh! Stay away from London."
The Doctor proceeds to input the year into a device, then has a sudden realization, exclaiming, "Wait a minute. Apple tree. Apple. Man holding an apple in 1666. Are you Sir Isaac Newton?"
"Sir Isaac?" to which the man reveals himself as the renowned figure who discovered gravity.
The Doctor, correcting his error, teases, "Oh! Not yet. Spoilers."
Donna, injecting some humor, remarks, "Have you got the controls set to famous or what?"
The Doctor, with a hint of exasperation, retorts, "If I had controls. Thank you."
Donna playfully engages Isaac Newton, saying, "But it's got to be said, Mr. Isaac Newton, that you, above all others, can appreciate—"
The Doctor interjects with a cautionary, "Oh, no, don't."
Undeterred, Donna persists, "You can appreciate—" and you join in, emphasizing, "Really, really don't." Donna groans and urges, "Oh, come on!"
Turning back to a bewildered Isaac Newton, she asserts, "You can appreciate—" and in unison, the three of you declare, "the gravity of the situation."
A loud bang and fire erupt from behind the three of you, prompting a swift turn to witness the chaotic scene inside the TARDIS. The Doctor hastily tells Isaac Newton, “Oh! Sorry, gotta go. Bye!” You and Donna join in, adding your farewells, “Bye!”
UNKNOWN SPACESHIP — ???
As the TARDIS crash lands, Donna steps out of the TARDIS, beginning to say, “I am never ever—”
After hastily evaluating the impending disaster at the TARDIS console, you and the Doctor realize it's on the verge of erupting in flames. The Doctor seizes your wrist and swiftly ushers you outside, shouting to Donna, "Out of the way!"
Both you and the Doctor hit the ground, Donna in tow, as flames erupt from the TARDIS doors. Strangely, the U.S. Air Force song plays in the background with audible lyrics:
"Here they come
Zooming to meet our thunder
At ‘em, boys, give ‘em the gun"
Lying on the floor, the TARDIS abruptly slams its doors shut, bringing an unexpected end to the song. The three of you are panting on the floor in shock and confusion plastered on your face.
As you three pull yourself up and stand, Donna asks in disbelief and unsureness, “Is it… Is it all right? Is it broken? Is it knackered?”
With a frown, the Doctor strides toward the TARDIS doors and pushes them open. "Uh..."
Ducking your head from underneath his shoulder, you peer inside to assess the damage. The hiss of fire and creaking of objects reach your ears amid the billowing steam surrounding the TARDIS. Both you and the Doctor frown at the sight, and he utters a small, "Ooh."
Gently closing the TARDIS door, the Doctor grips both sides of the time machine with his hands. You take a step back, and Donna softly and sheepishly asks, "Is it bad?"
The Doctor presses his forehead against the blue doors in defeat, groaning, "It was brand-new."
Donna softly says, "Sorry."
The Doctor composes himself, taking a deep breath. He spins around and addresses Donna, saying, “Not your fault.”
“Yes, it was.” Donna responds matter-of-factly, accompanied by an awkward smile. “But can we fly? Can you fix it? Can we get back home?”
The Doctor grins, “We can do anything.” Donna laughs in delight.
The Doctor brandishes his sonic screwdriver and says, “Sonic screwdriver,” then pulls out a regular screwdriver, “and a non-sonic screwdriver.”
You and Donna share a laugh, and you playfully point out, “I think a non-sonic screwdriver is just called a screwdriver.”
The Doctor nods, giving you an adorable smile, “Thank you, love.”
“But if I can just reconfigure…” The Doctor starts as he fiddles with the keyhole of the TARDIS, “'Cause this old box can regenerate itself if I can just click it into gear.”
“Am I going mad, or did the TARDIS play ‘Wild Blue Yonder’?” Donna asks both you and the Doctor. He frowns and furrows his brows, “Yeah, it did, didn’t it?”
“What for?” Donna asks, and you reply, “I wonder.”
“We sang that in the choir in primary school. We’d have a little concert every Christmas, but gramps complained. He said, ‘You shouldn’t be teaching children that.’ It sounds all jaunty and fun, but it’s not. It’s the military going to war.” Donna shares as you stand next to her.
“Yeah. It’s the Air Force. The words are ‘wild blue yonder,’ which means the TARDIS played us a war song.” The Doctor frowns in contemplation but then manages to remove a portion of the keyhole. He inserts the end of his sonic screwdriver into the keyhole and clicks a button. The sonic emits a sound as the Doctor continues, “There, now... it can rebuild.”
The Doctor leaves the sonic screwdriver inserted as it continues to hum. The three of you take a few steps back as you hear the TARDIS clattering inside, shifting gears. The Doctor makes a face as he says, “Ooh. Okay? Yes?”
The TARDIS suddenly groans, and you three lean a little backward. Donna then asks, “Is it working?”
“Think so. Strange.” The Doctor comments. After a few seconds, the light atop the police box lights up blue and emits a small ding. The Doctor smiles and clasps his hands together, “There you go! Mending, mending, mending. Give it a bit of time.”
The Doctor then looks around the space you had landed, bends his knees up and down as he says, “So, now. I wonder where we are. Feels like a spaceship? Yeah?”
Donna concurs, “Yeah.”
The Doctor remarks, “Flight.”
Donna then adds, “Spaceship.”
The Doctor scrunches his nose as he shrugs, “Let’s just see.” He moves to what seems to be a door and presses the button on the side, leaving you and Donna to follow him.
“Wow! Nice!” The Doctor remarks as you enter the large, long corridor of the spaceship. Multiple shapes and sizes of grey panels surround the interior walls, while large mechanical beams hold the roof, leaving you in awe of the immense size of the entire spacecraft.
“Big!” Donna comments as she looks around, and The Doctor adds, “Very big!”
“I’d hate to be the cleaner,” Donna says as she gazes up at the high ceilings.
You then spot something in the distance, a small, white figure standing still. Squinting your eyes, you try to make out its shape and say, “Is that—”
The Doctor begins to wave his hand in the air, yelling, “Hello! We just landed. By accident. I hope that’s okay.”
There’s no response from whatever is at the end of the long corridor. Donna leans a little closer and asks, “Is that a person or a thing?”
The Doctor can’t help himself as he looks at the two of you, his tone suggesting, “We could take a look.”
Donna scoffs and points out, “Or we could stay here, wait for the TARDIS to mend itself so I can get back home. My family is waiting for me.”
The Doctor makes a face as he hums and points with his thumb, “Mmm?”
You shake your head while looking up, knowing his curiosity will always win. Eventually, Donna relents, “Yeah, all right.”
The Doctor smiles and shoves a hand down his pocket as he takes your hand in his, and the three of you walk down the massive, long corridor. Donna begins to say “Still, wherever we are, could be worse. We’ve got air. We’ve got lights. We’ve got mavity.”
You and the Doctor glance at each other before nodding along with Donna. Both of you hum and agree, “Yeah.”
“Was it me, or was Isaac Newton hot?” Donna says, and you grin wildly as you nod your head in agreement, saying, “Oh, thank the stars someone said it! 'Cause, yes, he was very hot.”
“He was, wasn’t he? He was so hot.” The Doctor said before realizing, “Oh, is that who I am now?”
You give the Doctor a reassuring squeeze as Donna says to the Doctor, “Well, it was never that far from the surface, mate. I always thought—” She’s cut off by the sudden sound of the TARDIS engine whirring, and the three of you race back to where you had landed to see it disappear.
The Doctor exclaims in panic, “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!”
“But— What?” Donna says as she takes a small step back in disbelief. You're by the Doctor’s side as your mouth slightly opens in shock, feeling a tightness in your chest of uncertainty.
“You’ll get it back though?” Donna asks, “Doctor, you can get it back.”
The Doctor has wide eyes and a mouth agape as he doesn’t reply. Donna steps in front of the two of you, saying, “Doctor, you can get the TARDIS back, can’t you? Use the sonic.”
The Doctor’s eyebrows dip in the middle, a visible annoyance and frustration as he replies, “It was in the keyhole.”
Donna’s eyes widen, and she stammers as she tries to gather solutions to the problem you three were in. She says, “But you can whistle. You could snap your fingers. You could summon it. Just use that stupid head of yours and get it back.”
The Doctor gives her a look as he grits his teeth in slight rage, and Donna shakes her head at him, pointing a finger as she says, “Oh, don’t you look at me like that. It’s your fault.”
To which you and the Doctor give her a more pointed look, and Donna continues on, “I said, ‘Let’s stay here’. But you two had to wander off.”
You raise your voice as you say, “You wandered with us!”
Donna retaliates with her voice high-pitched, “Oh, like I could stop you both!”
The Doctor adds fuel to the fire, his voice raising, “You spilled the coffee—” He stops himself, not liking where all the blaming and pointing fingers were going. To him, there was no point, so he threw his hands in the air as he turned around, saying, “No.”
The Doctor places both hands on his hips as you let out a deep sigh through your nose as you cover both your eyes with the palms of your hands, rubbing them out in frustration.
Donna fiddles with the lapels of her coat as she nods and agrees with a soft note, saying, “No.”
The Doctor briefly raises both of his hands in surrender as he softly says, “Sorry.” To which you also add your own, “Sorry, Donna.”
Donna steps back, and her voice shakes as she says, “No. Okay. Fine.” Then you see panic seep through Donna. She begins to pant, her eyes slightly water and rim her eyes, and her lower lip begins to tremble. “Oh— Oh, my God. Where are we?”
You and the Doctor move towards her the moment her lower lip begins to tremble, and Donna has an outstretched hand, trying not to let you two get close, but it’s no use. The Doctor grabs her hand and gives it a small kiss in reassurance. Then you hold on to grab her other hand in support as she whimpers, and she sniffles out, “Rose is waiting.”
The Doctor looks directly into Donna’s shining blue eyes as he says, “I will get you home.” Donna shakes her head, “How?”
The Doctor is serious as he says, “There is one hope. A mechanism on board the TARDIS called the HADS. Hostile Action Displacement System.” He then lets go of Donna’s hand and continues, “If the TARDIS is in danger, it goes away.”
“Goes where?” Donna asks.
“Anywhere. And it only comes back when the danger is gone. I turned it off years ago. I mean, I’d never land anywhere. Once spent three years with the Stargazer in orbit, and I thought, ‘Oh, mmm, turn off the HADS’, but if the TARDIS is rebuilding itself, maybe it clicked back on.” The Doctor explains, and Donna realizes, “But that means we’ve landed in the middle of hostile action.”
To which the Doctor replies with a somber tone, “Yeah.”
In moments like these, you remain silent, your mind kicking into overdrive as it gathers as much information as possible, desperately searching for a solution to the chaotic situation around you.
“There’s something on this ship that’s so bad the TARDIS ran away?” Donna asks, a slight quiver in her voice. The Doctor stammers, “Y-yes.”
Donna takes a moment before declaring, “Then… we go and kick its arse!” She moves to slam the palm of her hand on the button on the wall that opens the door and strides down the corridor with determination. You and the Doctor exchange a look before trailing after her.
“She was very put out. Mrs Bean,” Donna says as the three of you stroll down the long spaceship corridor. The Doctor, intrigued, asks, “Mrs Bean?” Your hand is in his, swaying with the movement of your bodies as you walk. He never wants to let you go again, now that he has you back.
Donna recounts her memory, “Head of the choir. She said, ‘It’s not a war song. It’s jolly.’ That’s what she said, ‘It is jolly.’”
After a brief moment of silence, you turn to Donna with a silly expression, “Mrs Bean?” The three of you burst into laughter at the absurdity of the last name, wondering just how unlucky someone must be to carry a vegetable as their surname for the rest of their life.
“Fenslaw.”
An automated voice echoes through the speakers of the spaceship, causing the pillars and panels to click and clatter as they shift and move around you three. You, the Doctor, and Donna stand still in concern, watching as everything unfolds before settling back into place.
“What was that?” Donna asks with narrowed eyes.
The Doctor frowns as he tries to understand, “Like circuits moving. Or it’s reconfiguring to become…”
“But what was that word? Fenslaw. What’s that mean?” Donna asks.
The Doctor shrugs, “I don’t know. The TARDIS translates, but now it’s gone.”
“No, the TARDIS translates for me. I thought you knew twenty-seven million languages.” Donna points out.
“I know fifty-seven billion two hundred and five, but not this one.” The Doctor says matter-of-factly, and you roll your eyes at his subtle brag. Then he tilts his head slightly, “Unless it’s Mr Fenslaw saying his name?”
Donna shakes her head, “It wasn’t that.”
The Doctor nods and agrees as he parrots back, “It wasn’t that.”
Donna turns and places her hands in the pockets of her coat, jutting her chin out in the direction where the unknown species or object stands from a distance and says, “Jimbo didn’t move. What is that?”
The Doctor begins, “Oh, wait a minute. If I’m right…” Then he steps on a button on the floor with his grey converse, and a mechanism hisses before popping up a small orange hovering transport vehicle. Donna chuckles in amusement as she moves to sit in the passenger seat on the far end.
The Doctor gives you a cheeky grin and exaggerates his accent as he says to the two of you, “Your car, milady.”
“Thank you, Parker.” Donna says with her own exaggerated accent. You sit in between them as the Doctor drives.
After a few meters of driving, the object comes into view, and you say with realization, “Oh, it’s a robot.”
The Doctor pulls the vehicle to a halt, and you three exit the cart as you stand in front of the white, round, and old robot. The Doctor then says, “Hello, Jimbo. Can you talk?” The robot doesn’t move or make a single beep, and the Doctor continues to try to talk to it as he bends down to its height, “You got basic communications, Fenslaw? Fenslaw. No?” He moves an inch closer as he slowly speaks to it, “Fenslaw.”
With no response, the Doctor resorts to knocking on the white metal of the robot’s head, and a hollow echo sounds out. The Doctor waddles a little backward as he continues to ask, “Have you got controllers listening? Hello, I’m the Doctor, this is my soon-to-be-wife the Stargazer,” you interject him by saying, “Haven’t agreed to anything, yet.” He ignores it and continues with introductions, “This is Donna. We need help. We need to—”
He’s cut off as the Doctor takes a slow and mechanical step forward, causing the three of you to jump and take a step back. “Is that it?” Donna asks, wondering if there’s more to it than the robot.
“One step at a time.” The Doctor says, and Donna spirals, “What is it? Maybe it’s an invader. Maybe that’s the hostile action.”
Then you look around the robot, observing it, before remarking, “I think it’s just old. See, look at the rust.”
“It’s primitive if you don’t mind me saying so, Jimbo. Someone got a very old robot out of storage to walk very slowly down a very long corridor.” The Doctor says before taking a long inhale, “Why?”
“Maybe… time slowed down.” Donna guesses and you and the Doctor shake your heads. You then say, “No. We’d feel it in our bones.”
The Doctor points at the robot while saying, “Stay there, Jimbo. No sudden moves.” He then tilts his head back on the cart, “Onwards?” You and Donna hum before following the Doctor back to the cart.
Donna lifts her hand and tells the Doctor, “Uh, I’ve got it.” As you climb into the cart, Donna says, “Allons— as the idiots say— –y!”
She steps on the gas, and the car moves forward, zooming along the corridor. Eventually, you reach the end of the corridor, revealing a door. The three of you move to the door, which slides open.
The door behind you slides down shut as the Doctor calls out, “Hello? Is anyone home?”
With no response, the three of you push forward. The entire room glows in cool blue light, leading you to the front of the ship where you find an empty captain’s chair and two monitors attached to the front.
“Well, definitely a spaceship,” Donna comments as she steps forward to look out the large window in the front, continuing, “If that’s space.”
The Doctor hops into the pilot’s chair, saying, “We’ve got a chair. That’s a good sign. It’s a life form with a bum.” He presses one of the switches on the control panel, adding, “If I can translate their basic one to ten, I can find out where we are. And when. And why.”
Putting on his glasses, the Doctor reads out the screen, “One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. Now I can read the base codes. So, life signs?” After pressing a few buttons, the computer whizzes and chirps, and the Doctor frowns, “None. Just an empty chair.”
“Where have they all gone?” Donna asks, leaning forward, and you feel something shiver up your spine, as if you’re being watched around the corner.
The Doctor hums, “The spaceship seems to have powered down. Basic functions ticking over.” Then something catches your eye, and you point out on the monitor, “Oh. Someone opened an airlock door three years ago. And then it closed.”
“What for?” Donna asks with wide eyes and continues, “This whole ship has been empty for three years?”
“Don’t know,” the Doctor mumbles as he reads the symbols on the screen. Then he realizes and says, “Those numbers are lenses. There’s a camera.” As you lean a little closer to see what the Doctor is saying, you feel him tug you closer and suddenly let you sit in his lap, your entire body flooding with warmth.
You squirm in his lap and playfully smack his shoulder as he lets out a yelp, “Ow!”
You look at Donna apologetically, and she gives you a knowing smile, not letting the display of affection affect her. She hasn’t seen the Doctor this happy in ages.
The Doctor flips a few switches while explaining, “Like a drone. We can see where we are.” As the drone activates, you see what it’s seeing on the screen in front of you, and the Doctor chuckles in excitement, tightening his arms around your waist, pulling you closer as he mumbles, “Well, it’s definitely a spaceship.”
Donna asks, “What kind of spaceship?”
“Don’t know,” the Doctor replies honestly. Then the drone appears from the front of the ship, shining a bright flashlight in your direction. The Doctor moves his head to the side and uses a hand to wave, “Ah! Hello!” which you see on the monitor to your left.
“But if we’re in space, there are no stars,” Donna points out and then asks, “Where are the stars?”
“We could be inside a dust cloud or a mavity well, or—” The Doctor pauses suddenly as he reads the screen to his right, “Oh.”
“What?” Donna asks with concern in her voice, and the Doctor shakes his head, “No, it’s fine. The ship is lost. It fell through a wormhole.”
“Ending up where?” Donna inquires, and you frown as you try to translate the rest of the symbols. The Doctor sighs, “I’m sorry, Donna. The TARDIS was out of control. It’s taken us…”
“To the edge of the universe,” you say, finishing the Doctor’s sentence. The drone moves away, and Donna takes a step forward toward the glass, where a void of pitch black is on the other side.
“So, what’s out there?” Donna asks with a subtle shift in her tone, a little scared. The Doctor taps your hip to stand, which you do, and the two of you follow Donna to look at the view of the edge. The Doctor removes his glasses and pockets them as he begins to say, “Well, that’s difficult… for you because if the universe is everything, then the concept of everything having an edge is, mmm, kind of impossible. But that’s the language of 21st-century Earth, and you don’t know anything yet.” The Doctor pauses and adds, “Not being rude. You just don’t. When you discover Camboolian Flat Mathematics, you’ll discover it’s possible.”
“What?” Donna asks softly, and the Doctor replies, “That. The nothing. At the edge of creation. Absolute nothingness.”
Donna then says, “But starlight travels. You can stand in my garden and look at the light from stars a billion miles away. So, where’s the light?”
You nod to the corner and say, “Over there. It just hasn’t reached us yet.” You then point and explain, “If we flew in that direction, it would take a hundred trillion years to reach your house.”
You see Donna’s eyes glaze over and water, “That’s my family. Over there.”
The Doctor comments, “I’ve never been this far out.” He then places a hand on the glass, “To stand here like this.” He begins to softly say, “Physically. Unprotected. Right on the edge.” He then places his other hand on the glass and leans forward to observe the empty void. Absent of stars and light. He continues, “No one ever has. Not ever. Till us. And this ship.”
“And an airlock that opened three years ago. And closed,” Donna says, and the Doctor pushes himself off the glass and inhales, “Yeah.”
Suddenly, a loud metal clang reverberates throughout the ship, causing the three of you to whip your heads around to see the source of the noise. You rush out of the pilot’s room, and the door slides up and opens, revealing nothing.
“Must’ve been just settling,” the Doctor says, and Donna looks around skeptically, “You said no signs of life. Are you absolutely certain?”
“Coliss.”
The deep automated voice echoes, and you watch as the hexagonal panels and large pillars begin to flip and switch, clicking and clattering before coming to a stop.
“It said fenslaw and coliss. Like a list. Or a solicitors. Or a countdown. Or instructions.”
“Or a warning,” Donna adds.
The Doctor’s brows furrow, and he puffs out his cheeks. “Slow warning,” he says as he turns around back inside the pilot’s area with you two following him.
“I think this way,” the Doctor says, spinning to the far right end of the room before entering a different section and saying happily, “Yes! Base plate repetition filaments.” He pats both of the drawers that glow a bright orange before pulling a drawer while letting out a small gasp, “Huh.”
He then pulls one of the filaments out, and it creates a squelching sound as he does, vocalizing, “If we move one up…” It drips out goo as he inspects it, and Donna asks, “Is that stuff dangerous?”
“No. I don’t think so,” the Doctor says. He moves to sniff it before sticking his tongue out on the filament, licking the goo, and you and Donna make gagging noises as you groan in disgust.
Then the Doctor shakes his head, “No.”
As he goes to put the filament back, he begins to gag and groan, clutching on your arm and you and Donna begin to panic. “Doctor! What—” You begin to say but then he suddenly stops and stands straight, “No.”
You and Donna whack him on the arm in annoyance with his little joke. He pulls the top drawer and, placing the filament on top, he says, “Clip it into the fold back. Can you do that? Take all the rectangles, move them up there.” The Doctor asks Donna, and she replies, “What does that do?”
The Doctor then explains, “The ship's on neutral for some reason. It’s just idling. We need to get it back on full power.”
He then grabs your hand and begins to drag you away from the room, and Donna calls out, “Well, don’t leave me on my own.” The Doctor spins around with you in his grip as he says, “Donna, there is no one else on board this ship.”
Donna retorts with, “Hostile action, remember?”
As if on cue, a metal clang thumps and creates an echo throughout the room, and Donna asks, “And what’s that?”
The Doctor shakes his head, “A noise.” Donna scrunches her face as she sarcastically replies, “Oh, well, you’re very helpful.”
The Doctor takes a step back with you, and Donna says, “Go on then. And hurry back. You little streak!”
“I need to find the spindle. That’s not like wool. It’s a water pivot.” The Doctor says, and you look back at the Captain’s chair. You tell him, “I’ll try and see if I can access any of the logs.”
The Doctor nods, and you walk off to sit in the pilot’s seat. You hear the Doctor exclaim at the end of the hallway, “That’s it! Can you still hear me?”
You hear Donna yell out, “No,” as you let out a little hum of acknowledgment.
“Good. Good. Won’t be long.” The Doctor says from the spindle room, and you tap the monitor, trying to understand each symbol to see if you can find out what happened during all those years this ship was lost.
You exhale in frustration, conceding defeat in your attempt to access the logs. Slouching back into the chair, you cross your arms, and a visible puff of warm air escapes your mouth with each breath. A slight shiver courses through you, prompting a tighter embrace of your own body, as you curl into a small ball. Surveying the vast empty void at the edge of the universe, there's a profound absence of light, sound, or anything discernible.
Donna enters your field of vision, and you inquire, "You alright? It suddenly got colder." She responds with a nonchalant, "Yeah, 'm fine."
"Already done with the filaments?" you ask incredulously, and Donna hums in affirmation, "Yeah."
Raising your eyebrows, you nod, "Alright then." Donna moves to stand with her back to you, gazing into the abyss. After a brief silence, she asks with a tone void of emotion, "Did you ever miss it?"
"Miss what?" you seek clarification.
"Running away with the Doctor?" She clarifies, and you lean your head back, looking up at the ceiling as you hum in contemplation. Eventually, you settle on, "I did, sometimes... The thrill, the chase, all the excitement... because I often thought to myself, 'What would I give for another run with the Doctor?' or even just to catch a glimpse of him. Then as the years went on when I..." You release a deep breath before continuing, "I realized I didn't miss any of that... I just... I missed him."
"But I couldn't... even the thought of my desires versus the entire universe collapsing. I just— I never thought I would ever see him again." You say and Donna lets you continue, “Now he’s back and… it all feels so surreal. And I fear that there’s going to be a price to pay.”
"My arms are too long," Donna suddenly declares, and you frown, "I don't think so."
"No, seriously, look!" Donna insists, and you divert your gaze from the ceiling to see her facing you. Your eyes widen as her arms appear unusually long and huge in front of you. You jump out of your seat, taking a step back, "What—"
"Star! Star, are you there?" you hear the Doctor call from behind you, and you shout, "Yeah! What about Donna? Is she there?"
Turning around, you rush to the middle of the room to find the Doctor. Donna does the same, and you both clutch each other as you watch the three duplicates move toward you. Fear laces Donna's voice as she asks, "What are they?"
“They’re us,” the Doctor says, and Donna denies it, not wanting to believe as she says, “They’re not us.”
You watch as your clones walk into the room. The Doctor's double says with zero emotion, “The notion of shape is strange.”
Your doppelganger remarks, “It limits. It is limiting.” As it waddles from the other room where Donna once was, a consuming fear sets in. “It limits. Limits everything,” you hear the Donna clone say as it walks forward. The Doctor tries the friendly approach, “Whatever shape you want to take, that’s fine. You can do whatever you want. I just want to say it’s very nice to meet you. I’m the Doctor, this is the Stargazer, and this is Donna.”
Donna chimes in, “So are they.”
As the unknown creatures move a step closer, you three take a step back to the door that leads out to the corridor. The Doctor raises his voice, “If you can just get those bodies to calm down, we can talk. That’ll be nice, don’t you think?”
“They’re looking at us like food,” Donna says, and the fake Doctor says, “Food is interesting. Because once I sort out the arms…” You watch as it stretches back to a normal size, and then it continues, “then I have a problem with the jaw.” The creature-like-Doctor’s jaw stretches down to the floor, and the three of you are wide-eyed in shock, confusion, and fear before it clicks back into place.
“It’s the knees. How many knees?” The other-Donna asks, and your non-Doctor replies, “Two.”
“Two in total, or two in each leg?” The non-Donna asks, and you hear the sound of cracking as it adjusts its knees.
The three of you take a few steps back, and the door behind you opens. The Doctor asks, “Where did you come from? You’re not part of the ship, are you? Did you come from outside?”
“We came from the nothing,” your doppelganger says as it twitches and resets her wrists while stepping forward. “We are No-things,” the Not-Doctor says, and the Not-Donna adds, “But you. You are not nothing.”
The Doctor replies, “Oh, I think you’ll find we’re quite something.” The three of you hastily jump into the transport cart, the Doctor seizing the driver's seat while you and Donna squeeze into the passenger seat as the No-Things pursue you.
Then, a menacing growl echoes from behind. You and Donna glance back to witness the No-Things crawling on all fours, steadily growing larger. Donna exclaims, “Oh, my God, they’re growing!”
“Come on!” The Doctor urges, stepping on the gas and shifting gears. Donna raises her voice, “Go faster!”
“I know!” The Doctor responds, and you feel a slight tug on the back of the cart. Turning around, you see the Not-Doctor gripping it as he crawls. You and Donna grab tools from the back as the redhead declares, “No, you don’t!”
You two start to strike the Not-Doctor's hand, and your Doctor announces, “I can’t control it!”
“You stupid big hand!” Donna yells out in anger, and it eventually releases its grip on the cart, flinging you and Donna forward. The Doctor shouts, “No, no, no, no, no, no!” The cart crashes into a hydraulic pillar but manages to regain control, only for the Not-Donna to throw its hand at the side of the cart, causing you to spin out of control.
The Doctor rips out the steering wheel, and Donna screams as the spinning comes to a halt. You watch as the three No-Things expand and become entangled in each other’s limbs, hissing and growling at you three. The engine sputters as you sit there in shock. Donna then asks uncertainly, “What are they?”
Exiting the vehicle, the cart's frame falls apart, causing a loud clatter. You turn around to see the Doctor approaching the chaotic mess in front of you, and you groan, “Oh, no, don’t!”
“We’ve got to see,” the Doctor says, walking a little forward. The metal groans under the weight of the twisted limbs and squished faces. The Doctor mumbles, “It’s strange enough my face coming back, but not this big.”
“The airlock door three years ago. That’s when they got in,” Donna states with a nod, and the Doctor adds, “No-things. No control of shape. No concept of shape or size.”
“How can they get bigger? ‘Cause you only get a certain amount of mass, don’t you? Shaun used to complain about that watching Venom films. He said, ‘Where’s the extra mass come from?’”
You then recall the chill you felt as you sat in the pilot’s chair, pointing out, “It got colder.”
Donna agrees, nodding as she announces, “Oh, yeah, it got colder for me.”
Glancing back at the No-things, you conclude, “Heat into mass.”
The Doctor builds on that, saying rapidly, “But they’re not just physical copies. They’ve got our thoughts, too. That other Star, she mentioned Gallifrey and Mars.”
“The other Stargazer said, ‘Wilf’,” Donna remembers, pointing to your copy.
“The Not-Donna asked me if I missed all the adventures with the Doctor,” you add with disbelief.
“So they’ve got our memories,” the Doctor concludes, and Donna shudders, “Okay. So they’re copies with memories and mass, but what I don’t get is why do they hate us?”
Suddenly, one of the hands drops onto the metal floor, causing a loud thump, and the three of you jump back, letting out yelps. Donna looks at it with a concerned tone as she says, “That’s my hand.”
The metal begins to creak, and you look around as the Doctor points out, “They’re getting free. We should reason with them. Try to make peace. Welcome them to our side of the universe.”
The No-things roar in anger and disgust, and you flinch. The Doctor takes a step back and remarks, “Maybe later.”
As the three of you turn to run, the Doctor points out the three hexagon panels with steps on them, exclaiming, “I know, I know. Ladder. Do you think? Maybe up there?” You see a small exit hexagon, and Donna shrugs, “Let’s go!”
The Doctor climbs first, leading the way as you and Donna follow him up. But you hear the familiar automated voice resonate throughout the speakers of the ship, “Brate.”
The Doctor groans, “Oh, not now!” The triangle panels begin to flip, and you feel each hexagon shape slide opposite sides. You hear Donna exclaim, “Doctor! Star!”
“It’s okay. I’m right here!” the Doctor says right before the panel flips inwards, and he’s out of view. You watch as Donna slides down from the ladder and into a different area of the ship. Your hexagon moves upwards and flips inwards, flinging you into the interior of the spacecraft. You let out a yelp as you land on your bum, and suddenly the three of you are separated.
Fatigue etches lines of frustration across your face as you wearily rub your eyes with both hands. With a sigh, you push yourself upright, casting a glance down the dimly lit corridor. The soft hum of glowing pipelines provides the only illumination as you traverse the hallway, the occasional hiss of escaping air and steam accompanying your footsteps. Abruptly, a door slams shut behind you, prompting a swift turn of your head. Shaking off the interruption, you continue walking forward in the eerie silence of the spaceship's metallic passageway.
You discover a ladder and descend, the metallic clangs echoing in the confined space. Moving forward, the whirring of systems shutting down and rebooting accompanies your steps. The flickering lights above cast erratic shadows, and as you exhale, your breath materializes in the cold atmosphere.
Finally, you reach a door, stepping out just as the Doctor emerges simultaneously. A moment of uncertainty hangs between you two.
You cautiously take a step back, asking, “Are you—”
The Doctor interjects, “Is it—” A shared pause ensues, and you murmur, “But it got cold.”
“I know I’m me,” you assert with narrowed eyes, and the Doctor affirms, “Well, so am I.”
Frustration flickers across your face as you lick your lips. The Doctor initiates, “Tell me, how did we meet?”
“When?” you inquire.
“The first time we met, how did we meet?” the Doctor specifies.
"At the Academy. What was the color of the sky back on Gallifrey?" you respond, then throw a question back at him.
“Orange sky and trees with silver leaves. That reflected the morning sunlight, making it look like the forests were on fire. You and I would have picnics outside of the Capitol when we didn’t want to show up for class… your eyes would shine like starlight, and I… I knew then that I loved you.”
Tears well up in your eyes, and your bottom lip trembles as you say, “You didn’t say it then.”
“I can say it now,” the Doctor pleads.
You purse your lips, feeling a wavering resolve, and shake your head, “You also hated me back then.” The Doctor shakes his head, attempting to step forward, but you take two steps back, edging closer to the door. “After what I had done. When you found out who I was and where I came from. A rift in time. A supposed observer who interfered with fixed points in time when I had to save everyone. I had to save… you.”
The Doctor begins, “You and I both know it wasn’t your fault. After the Rift, the Time War, and Mars…”
You shake your head, swallowing down your guilt as you take in the way he looks at you. It wasn't him, but the weight of the past bears down on you. Another step back, and this time the Not-Doctor grimaces and says mockingly, “You and your sad backstory. ‘Oh, woe is me! I started an entire war! I altered a fixed point in time! Boo hoo! I should have died.’ Blah, blah, blah. No wonder the Doctor left you on Earth! You are annoying to be with. And you are right about one thing, you should have died! Why didn’t you die? Hmm?”
Gritting your teeth, you head out the door and slam the button shut, running down the corridor. The echoes of harsh words linger in the cold metallic passage. Exhausted, you eventually stop to catch your breath. Sliding down one of the walls, you can't contain the streams of tears flowing down your cheeks. Quiet sobs escape, and you cup your mouth with your hand, trying to muffle the sound, the weight of emotions overwhelming you in the dimly lit corridor.
Taking a deep breath, you try to settle yourself down, a skill you've honed over years of navigating the guilt within. You've learned not to be ashamed of your survival. You did what you had to do, continuously clawing your way out of the ache, cutting through the pain to the bone. It was never going to be pretty, but deep down, you know it will always be worth it.
You bury your head in between your curled-up knees, seeking solace as you take another breath and sniffle. Suddenly, loud banging echoes from a few meters down the hall, and amidst the clamor, you recognize the voice shouting. The Doctor's frustration is palpable as the grunting and banging continue. You remain still, waiting in the silence that follows. When the noise subsides, the Doctor notices you. He comes to a stop, and as he meets your tear-stained gaze and red-rimmed eyes, you say nothing.
Anger seems to cloud the Doctor's expression, evidence of the harsh words exchanged with the Not-You or Not-Donna. Yet, his demeanor softens as he kneels to your level, whispering, "Is it you?"
Weakly, you mumble, "I think you know."
He draws you close, his arms enveloping you, and his warmth provides a comforting embrace. Placing your head on his chest, you admit, "I should have known the it was the Not-Doctor I was speaking to, but I—"
The Doctor shushes you, planting a gentle kiss on the side of your head. "I was tricked too. I'm here now, love. Wasn't your fault." Gently rocking the both of you back and forth, he eventually stands up, offering a hand for you to take and pull yourself up. Moving through the hallway, this time, he doesn't let go.
“Gilvane.”
You find another door, and upon entering, you are met with the peculiar sight of your doppelgangers and potentially the real Donna. As you and the Doctor survey the two sets of clones – one set of you and the other Donna not holding hands – the two Donnas exchange uncertain glances. One Donna breaks the tension with a comment, "I’ve gotta say, this is the biggest nightmare of my life, but… I look quite good."
"I can’t argue," the other Donna adds. The Not-Doctor then points at your Doctor, demanding, “I want to talk to you. You Not-Doctor. I know you’re a fake. I know for a fact. So I want to know why you’re doing this.”
Your Doctor frowns, “That’s what I was gonna say!”
“You should have been faster. ‘Cause that’s me, isn’t it. Fast. Am I fast? Do I talk fast? Yes.” The Not-Doctor rattles off rapidly. Your Doctor retorts, “But you’re a copy of me! You’re only fast because I am.”
“You seriously want to marry this one?” The Not-You asks, and you nonchalantly reply, “Of course you’d know. Spent almost my entire life with him, might as well.”
“Oh, well, I can’t follow any of this. And that is proof. ‘Cause let’s not pretend. I’m the stupid one,” the other Donna interjects, prompting the Doctor to squeeze your hand as he questions, “You think you’re stupid?”
The other Donna replies, “Of course I do.”
“That’s very Donna,” your Doctor says, and the Not-Doctor chimes in, “That’s so Donna. That’s my Donna.”
“Except Donna does not think she’s stupid,” you point out, and the two Donnas say, “Oh, but I do.”
You shake your head, “No. Donna thinks she’s stupid, and sometimes she thinks she’s brilliant. She thinks both. Because that’s the astonishing thing about people from her planet. They can believe two completely different things at exactly the same time.”
After a moment, Donna looks at the both of you with your intertwined hands, grinning, “Brainbox and Stargirl!”
“Earthgirl!” You and the Doctor say in unison as the three of you reunite, sharing a group hug. Suddenly, the sound of cracking fills the air as the No-things begin to stretch. The Doctor swiftly whips out a salt shaker, exclaiming, “But salt! You can’t cross salt. In our universe, it is said that vampires, demons, and ghosts cannot cross a single line of salt until they’ve counted every single grain.” He starts drawing a line of salt in front of you before lifting the shaker up, “You’ve got no choice!”
“But that’s a superstition,” the Not-Doctor says, and your doppelganger adds, “Doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“It’s a superstition, and it’s true. Two things at once,” the Doctor asserts, and the Not-Doctor attempts to call him out, “You’re lying.”
Challenging him, the Doctor exclaims, “Then walk towards me. Come on. Stop copying and make your own minds up. Cross the line!”
The Not-Donna glances at your Donna and says, “She doesn’t believe him.”
“But you said I’m stupid,” Donna points out, to which the Not-Donna retorts, “And also brilliant.”
Your Donna sneers at her copy, “Then which one is it, Donna? Cross the line. Or count.”
As if the Not-Donna couldn’t help herself, like an impulse, she gets on her knees and begins to count each grain of salt, mumbling numbers as she does. Now all that stands is the Not-Doctor and the Not-Stargazer who stands there staring at the three of you.
“So tell me. What do you want?” The Doctor asks, to which the Not-Doctor responds, “You tell us.”
“It didn’t get cold this time.” You point out, and Donna agrees, “No, it didn’t, did it?”
“Which means you’re acclimatizing. Your arms are a bit too long. Your mouths are a bit too wide. But are you stabilizing?” The Doctor inquires, and Donna adds, “Like they’re becoming us properly.”
“I just wonder why.” Your Doctor says aloud, and the Not-Stargazer singsongs, “Why?”
Donna realizes something as she says, “Because the TARDIS will come back for us. They know that. So if they become completely us, the TARDIS will come back for them.”
“Is that what you want? Escape?” The Doctor asks with his hands in his pockets. Suddenly the tone of the Not-Doctor shifts and explains, “We drifted here. In the lack of light. Passing no-time.”
Your copy continues, “But we would feel it. From so far away. Your noisy, boiling universe.”
“We want to travel there. To play your vicious games and win.” The Not-Doctor says with a grave tone.
You frown as you say, “If you existed here with no shape, no form, no purpose, then what’s made you so bad?”
The Not-Stargazer replied with eyes devoid of emotion, “The things we felt, they shaped us. Carrying across the dark. We could hear your lives of war. And blood and fury and hate. They made us like this.”
“We are more than that.” Donna spits out, and the Not-Donna says, “Love letters don’t travel very far. And neither do your lies.” She then blows the line of salt away, and you three step backward as your clones begin to have sharp teeth as they hiss and growl at you.
You feel your back against the wall, and suddenly the automated voice can be heard once more, “Stond.”
The lights flicker as the panel behind you begins to flip you three around, clicking and clattering, and Donna remarks, “That’s lucky.”
But the panel flips you back to where you were, and Donna whispers, “Or not.”
“Run?” The Doctor asks, and you and Donna agree, “Run!”
You sprint through the corridor, timing it perfectly as one of the doors manages to stall them before you re-enter the captain's area. The Doctor gestures a hand and says, “Come on!”
After pressing a few switches, a glass panel slides down from above, dividing you three from the No-things. As they stare at you three, Donna asks, “Why? I don’t understand why. What are they scaring us for?”
“Problem is, ten minutes ago they’d have ripped that door off its hinges. Now they’re just standing there. Locking into shape. Almost complete,” the Doctor comments, and Donna presses, “Yes, but if you just listen to my question, thank you very much. Why are they making us so scared? If they wanna copy us, why don’t they just sit in a corner and do it? Why terrorize us?”
The Doctor’s face lights up and says, “That’s a very good question.”
“Yes. I’m brilliant.” Donna says while bouncing on her tip toes.
“Why provoke us? Unless… that’s how it’s done. The more scared we are, the more blood pumps. Hypothalamus. Adrenaline. We think faster and faster and faster.” The Doctor says as the pieces begin to click.
“It makes us easy to copy.” You remark, and the Doctor takes a step towards the glass as he says, “Goosebumps, like braille. You’re reading us. Is that right?”
“Well, what do we do? How do we stop ‘em? Stop being scared?” Donna asks urgently, and the Doctor says, “Like the ship all ticking over in neutral. Donna, stop thinking.”
Donna laughs nervously, “Well, that’s easy for me. What about you two?”
You look at the Doctor as you pull your lips to the side, “Took up meditation for a bit, so the only one with that problem is him.”
The Doctor takes a deep breath and says, “Just calm. Just cool.”
“Yeah, I’m calm.” Donna says with a deep inhale, and the Doctor comments, “Even calmer.”
“Well, you do it too.” Donna says, and the Doctor exclaims back, “I am!”
Donna grits her teeth, “Mmm. Stop rattling me!”
“Will you two just shut up!” You say.
The Doctor softly says, “Slow. Slow heartbeat. If we’re slow, they can’t read us.”
“Okay.” Donna says, and the Doctor replies, “Good. Shhh.”
After a few moments of complete silence, Donna asks, “For how long?” And the Doctor replies, “Uh, there’s a flaw in the plan.”
The Not-Doctor decides to bait him by asking, “How can you not think on a ship full of questions? Why the empty chair?”
Not-Stargazer adds on and asks, “Why do the walls keep moving?”
Not-Doctor asks, “What are the words in the air?”
Not-Donna asks again, “Why did the airlock open and close three years ago?”
You and Donna say simultaneously, “Don’t.”
Your Doctor begins to protest, “But—”
Both of you are firm as you say, “Don’t. Stop it.”
Then a sudden loud metal clang rings out once more, and the Not-Doctor asks, “And what is that?”
“Doctor, stop thinking.” You warn but eventually the Doctor relents and groans as he says, “Let me think. Let me think.”
The No-things begin to chant creepily, “Think! Think! Think! Think!”
The Doctor moves to a few switches and buttons on the wall and begins to press and pull each of them as he says, “What is making that noise?”
The rooftop panel whirs as it slides open, revealing a glass roof, and the three of you look up, and the Doctor says, “There.”
You watch as a creature in a spacesuit floats in space with no helmet, the skull of what once was. You frown, and the metal hook clangs as it thumps against the glass. “The Captain of the ship.” You say somberly, and the Doctor adds, “Circling round and round forever. Caught in the gravity field.”
“Caught in the what?” Donna asks, and you quickly clarify, “Mavity field.”
“But why? Did they throw him out? Her out. Them out.” Donna says with a breathy voice, and the Doctor says, “Her. I wonder. Why is the captain outside? Why is she in a spacesuit with no helmet?” He turns around to face the No-things and catches their expressions, he says, “And why don’t you know?”
The Doctor moves closer to the glass as he looks at the Not-Doctor; he growls as he says, “I know that face. I know my expressions very, very well, and you don’t know. The captain did something you don’t understand, but what?” The No-things begin to say, “Tell us! Tell us! What did she do? What did the Captain do? What did she do?”
You move to stand next to the Doctor as he says, “They don’t know. They really don’t know. The questions aren’t a test. They need the answers. We’re all stuck in a system because of the Captain.” He groans as he jumps up and asks, “What did she do?”
Donna shakes her head and points out, “Well, if they want the answers, don’t tell ‘em!”
“You know what my head’s like, Donna, once I start having ideas.” The Doctor explains, and the Not-Doctor interjects, “Then I have ideas. So the captain…” Not-Donna looks at him and finishes, “Tried to stop us. But how?”
“Wait a minute.” Donna begins, “If they don’t know why the Captain’s outside… The airlock door three years ago wasn’t them coming in. That was her going out. She killed herself.”
“But what for?” The No-things ask in unison from behind the glass.
The Not-Doctor says, “She hid her thoughts.” And the Not-Stargazer explains, “So we couldn’t see.”
You watch as the Doctor’s expression turns to understanding, the final bits of information making sense in his head. His mouth opens in a silent gasp as he exclaims loudly, “Maximised automatic brain function! Oh! Well done, Captain. Because she knew. Even with a lost ship, if you were found one day, if you three ever reached the universe, you’d run riot across the stars!”
Your eyes widen in realization, adding, “And you were already becoming copies of the captain. You’d have owned this spaceship. If you’d copied her perfectly, you could’ve flown the ship home and started your war!”
The Doctor points out, “So, she ended her life to hide whatever it is she left behind. Because when she died, you hadn’t completed her. So you lost everything she knew. Gone.”
The lights flicker as clicking and clattering sound throughout the ship, and Donna asks, “What is that?”
The Doctor runs around animatedly, beginning to explain, “That captain, calm as a Zen master, set in motion to stop those three. And she took her own life so they couldn’t work out what she’d done.”
The Not-Doctor grins, “But you’re working it out right now.”
The Doctor shakes his head as he denies it, “No, I’m not. Mm-mmm.”
The Not-Stargazer smiles as she tilts her head, “Yes, you are, and so is she. Therefore, so am I.”
You bite your lip and try to calm your racing thoughts, standing next to Donna for support. Then you hear the Not-Doctor begin to say, “It’s all about slow. We don’t understand the slow, so the captain set out to slowly stop us. So the ship is slow. The robot is slow. The words are slow. Is that it?”
You see the Doctor holding it in as he bounces out the energy, and he shakes his head, “Nope.”
The Not-Doctor continues, “The words move the walls, so the ship is slowly reconfiguring to become a very slow…” The Doctor finishes the sentence for everyone, “Bomb.”
“What?” Donna asks with a high-pitched tone, and the Not-Doctor explains rapidly, “The captain set the self-destruct slowly so the words are a very slow… countdown.”
The Doctor groans out in frustration as he throws his arms up in the air, “I said so! I said countdown straight away! It’s that simple.” He sighs, “I translated the numbers. I’d never heard them out loud! ‘Fenslaw, coliss, brate,’ means ten, nine, eight.”
The Not-Doctor turns to the Not-Donna and says, “The robot.” The three of them move to the door that leads to the long hallway, and as it opens, the Doctor flicks a switch to lock it.
The Not-Doctor glares at you, “We’re as clever as you now. That robot won’t stop us!” It begins to flick a few buttons and switches by the nearby control panel next to the door. You and the Doctor move about the area, flicking switches to try to override the system they were trying to break.
Donna quickly asks you two, “So, what’s the robot?” And you reply, “The robot is the trigger. A primitive mechanical brain that those two couldn’t read, taking three long years to walk a very long corridor with one slow instruction.”
“Kaboom.” The Doctor finishes as he twists a few knobs before pressing a button, and Donna says, “Countdown. What number are we on?”
“Ratico. That’s five.” The Doctor says as he slams his palm on the button, closing the door once more, “It’s been counting down for years, but the TARDIS brought us here just in time for the final sequence! We can’t let them reach that robot. There’s only one way we can stop them.”
You move about to flick a few more switches and rapidly slam your palm against a few more buttons as the Not-Doctor, Not-Donna, and Not-Stargazer begin to rip out different wires. “What’s that?” Donna asks, and you hear the Doctor say, “I’m sorry, Donna. But the countdown needs to speed up.” The Doctor then slams his palm on the button, and an alarm begins to sound along with the automatic voice, “Vandeen.”
Donna begins to panic as she yelps, “That’s number four!”
“We know!” You and the Doctor say, and Donna shrieks, “But we’re still on board!” To which you both reply in unison once more, “We know!”
But then the No-things manage to get the door open, you hear the Not-Doctor say, “Stop that robot!” To which your Doctor says as he presses a button that lifts the glass divider, “Don’t stop that robot!”
“Could the robot just wait!” Donna says as she runs after both of you.
“Blinss.”
“That’s three!” Donna says as she pushes her legs faster to try and catch up to you. Suddenly, the Not-Stargazer turns around and hisses at the Doctor, throwing herself on him to try to stop him, but he shoves her aside only for her to attack you.
Donna slows down a moment as you wrestle with your double, and you yell to Donna, “Keep going!” The redhead nods and keeps running, following the Doctor. You manage to get the upper hand as you maneuver your weight and lock your knees to her waist, saying, “For some odd reason, this is going to be theraputic.”
You smack her across the face, tumbling off the No-thing, and proceed to run after the Doctor and Donna.
“Sensill.”
“That’s two!” Donna announces from in front of you as you feel your lungs expand and deflate while running after them. But then, you're taken down by the Not-Stargazer from behind, and you shout out in pain as you roll on the floor with her.
As you wrestle yourself to the ground, you hear the TARDIS whizzing as it floats down, playing the song Wild Blue Yonder. The lyrics and the music echo, “Off we go into the wild blue yonder. Climbing high into the sun.”
The Doctor snatches his sonic screwdriver from the keyhole and steps into the TARDIS with Donna climbing inside, pushing it forward with his foot like a scooter towards you and your double. As the Doctor and the TARDIS are in front of you, you hear the automated voice echo, “One.”
The Doctor's voice reverberates, urgent and probing, “What was my nickname at the Academy?”
“Theta Sigma.” The simultaneous reply from both you and the Not-Stargazer hangs in the air. The Doctor scrutinizes both of you, his keen eyes flickering between your faces. His next question pierces the tension, “What happened on Trenzalore?”
“Nine hundred years of battle and that’s where you were buried,” The Not-Stargazer asserts confidently, a sense of triumph coloring her words. However, your gaze remains distant, memories of Trenzalore flooding your mind, and you avert your eyes from the Doctor's penetrating gaze. He swiftly ushers you into the TARDIS, slamming the door shut.
As the flames engulf the three No-things, their screams echo in the air. The TARDIS whooshes away, leaving behind the burning remnants. The three of you huddle on the floor inside the time machine, wrapped in a comforting embrace.
THE TARDIS — SPACE
After the intense ordeal with the No-things, a collective decision is made to refresh and rejuvenate. In the soothing confines of the TARDIS, you find a moment to cleanse yourself from the recent events. The warm water cascades over you in the shower, washing away the remnants of the unsettling encounter. Drying your hair, you change into a fresh set of clothes, embracing the renewal that accompanies the change.
Exiting the room, you traverse the winding corridors of the TARDIS, making your way to the control room. The Doctor, having already cleaned himself up, is engrossed in the myriad buttons and switches that adorn the console. As you approach, he turns, a warm smile gracing his features, “Hello, love.”
With a hum, you encircle your arms around his waist, and he reciprocates by wrapping his arms around you. A tender exchange of glances unfolds as you gaze up at him. Offering a small smile, you inquire, “How did you know it was me?”
“You could never bring yourself to talk about what happened that day. Not once after that, you never mentioned it again,” he replies. Pressing your forehead against his chest, you take a deep breath, absorbing his freshly cleaned scent.
“I know you were the one who saved me and brought me to Earth after the Time War,” you admit. He furrows his brow, “How did you figure that out?”
Sighing, you recount, “The No-thing appeared as you when we got separated and said some really hurtful things... but he also mentioned you were the one who brought me to Earth. You saved me. All those years ago…”
The Doctor exhales before planting a gentle kiss on the top of your head, “You saved me. It was only fair.”
“I love you,” you declare, feeling his smile against your forehead. “I love you too.”
"She'd almost completed you," the Doctor shared, his gaze fixed on Donna as she joined them at the console. "The other Donna was a 99.9% copy. Except I thought, 'What's wrong?' Turned out her wrist had an extra 0.06 millimeters. Obvious, really."
Donna, hands resting on the controls while you expertly pilot the TARDIS, quipped, "The devil's in the details," and the Doctor agreed with a nod, "Yeah, isn't it just?"
After a brief pause, he mused, "Oh, I keep thinking, 'I wish I hadn't done that thing with the salt.'"
Donna shook her head, dismissing it, "What, the bad luck thing? That was just a lie."
"Normally. Except I invoked a superstition at the edge of the universe, where the walls are thin and all things are possible," the Doctor explained with a slightly shaken tone. "I just got this feeling."
“What?” Donna inquired, and the Doctor, after a momentary space-out, shook it off, saying, “Which is gone. Fine. Good. Onwards.”
The Doctor moved to pilot alongside you, adjusting knobs as he continued, “So anyway. I was wondering, she said on the spaceship— That other Donna had your memory. She could remember us as the DoctorDonna. So she could see my life and my mind and my thoughts for the past fifteen years. All the time we’ve been apart, she could remember it. Can you?”
Donna blinked, contemplating, and replied, “No. It’s too much. It’s like looking into a furnace. But I suppose she had a great, big, outer-space brain. She could make sense of it.”
The Doctor nodded thoughtfully, “Yeah. Maybe.”
“Why?” Donna probed, and the Doctor mumbled, “Just wondering.”
“What did she see?” Donna persisted, and the Doctor, puffing out his cheeks, evasively said, “Ooh. Things.”
“Like what?”
The Doctor remained silent, prompting Donna to push further, “Come on. Where have you been since I last saw you? What’s happened?” Attempting to shrug it off, he nonchalantly said, “Oh, you know, the usual. Robots, chases, waterfalls.”
Donna mockingly nodded, “Oh, okay,” before giving him a scrutinizing look and asking, “But what really happened?”
The Doctor's expression turned sad and tired as he admitted, “A lot.”
Donna nodded in understanding, then turned to her friend and asked, “You okay?”
The Doctor, opting for candor, grasps your hand, affirming, “I will be.”
“When?” Donna inquires, tilting her head, and the Doctor responds, “A million years.”
The TARDIS emits a pleasant ding, signifying your arrival as it materializes. The Doctor, wearing a contented smile, notes, “Ah. There we are, back home.”
Donna strides towards the TARDIS doors, commenting, “You timed that to get out of awkward conversations.” She then rushes down the bridge, calling out, “Where are they? Where’s the family?”
As you prepare to step out, the Doctor playfully pulls you back, encircling your waist with his arms, prompting a delighted squeal, “Doctor!”
“Wait, I have a present for you,” he announces, positioning you by the console. With a gentle push, a concealed compartment reveals a new sonic screwdriver—silver and gold with an ergonomically designed handle. Overwhelmed with excitement, you bounce up and down, unable to contain your joy. Seizing the Doctor's face, you plant a passionate kiss on his lips, and in that moment, the Doctor melts into the warmth of the affectionate embrace.
“My own sonic screwdriver. Thank you.” You say to him as he gives you a grin, “Consider it as a wedding present.”
You lightly smack his chest and say, “I expect a proper proposal, Doctor.”
He kisses your cheek, “Of, course dear.”
CAMDEN MARKET, LONDON — MORNING, 2023
Intertwining your hands, you and the Doctor emerge from the TARDIS, greeted by Donna and Wilf. Donna beams triumphantly, exclaiming, “I said so!”
Wilf gasps, hand covering his mouth in shock, while the Doctor grins, “Wilfred Mott. Oh, now I feel better.” Wilfred erupts in delighted laughter as you and the Doctor approach him, enveloping him in a warm hug. The Doctor affirms, “Now, nothing is wrong. Nothing in the whole wide world.”
Stepping back, the Doctor smiles broadly, addressing Wilf, “Hello, my old soldier.”
“I never thought I’d see you two again after all these years. Oh, the Doctor, that lovely face. It’s like springtime,” Wilf chuckles, and the Doctor nods to Donna, remarking, “And Donna’s got her memory back.”
“Without dying, which I recommend,” Donna adds with a smile. However, you hear distant sirens, not giving them much thought. Wilf grins, “Yeah, well, I knew it. I never lost faith. I said, ‘He won’t let us down. He’ll come back and save us.’”
Both you and the Doctor frown, and he questions, “Save us from what?”
Donna asks anxiously, “And where’s the family? Where’s Rose? Are they all right?”
Wilf reassures Donna with animated gestures, “Yeah, they’re fine. They’re safe. I’ve told them to bunker down, and I’ll keep watch. I said, ‘You save yourselves.’”
Your eyebrows knit in concern as you ask, “Why? Is there something wrong?”
Right on cue, the food truck in the background erupts in flames, people shouting and screaming, chaos ensuing. More people join in the madness, hitting each other, and the Doctor queries, “What’s going on?”
The tumult intensifies, with people shouting and cursing, and Donna implores, “What is it? What’s happening?”
Wilf attempts to explain, “It’s everybody. It’s everything. They’re all going mad. Listen, you’ve got to do something, Doctor! The whole world’s coming to an end!”
As an airplane approaches, its engines emitting smoke, people scream and clamour. The plane crashes in the distance, prompting the Doctor to swiftly move Wilf's wheelchair to the front of the TARDIS, shouting, “Quickly!”
Taking cover, the four of you shield yourselves from the ensuing blast, and amidst the chaos, you can't help but wonder if the kiss was somehow connected to this impending disaster.
TAGLIST:
@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @matthew-lilards @a-dash-of-cinnamon @imthedoctorlove @scoliobean @allophonicmess @mirkwoodshewolf @jaziona92 @melloww-akira
@crowleythesexydemon @pedrettilov3r
#14th doctor x fem reader#14th doctor x fem!reader#14th doctor x reader#14th doctor#fourteenth doctor#doctor who#10th doctor#doctor who special#wild blue yonder#ethereal writes#david tennant#catherine tate#doctor who 60th anniversary#dw 60th#donna noble#tenth doctor#doctor who x reader#fourteen x reader
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for a good time, call [2]
modern!rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader
series summary: Eddie Munson is a burnt out rockstar, touring the country. When he finds a phone number written on a bathroom wall, he strikes an unusual friendship with a coffee shop barista who has no idea who he is.
warnings: 18+ cussing, m!masturbation, eddie jerks off, smoking, flirting, pining kinda, a cliffhanger, strangers to friends to lovers
word count: 3,3k
an: part 2 guys! i hope you like it. don't forget to reblog or leave a comment :p don't come at me for the ending x_x ps! some of you couldn't be tagged :(
say hi to Robin's lover @ceriseheaven
chapter one ♫ masterlist
chapter two ♫♪♩·..·
Eddie woke up to his phone buzzing continuously on his nightstand. Blinking the sleep away from his eyes, he reaches over to grab the device, the blue light far too bright for how early it still was, the digits on his homescreen reading 6.14am. He had three missed calls from his manager and two from his drummer. Eddie sat up on the bed and begrudgingly called his manager back.
''Where the hell are you, Munson?'' his manager, James, heckled.
''Good morning to you too,'' Eddie yawned.
''We had agreed to a meeting 15 minutes ago.''
Oh, Eddie remembered. It would be a lie to say he accidentally forgot to set an alarm. Who holds meetings this early anyway. ''Look man, I overslept. I'm tired and I don't want to meet. You can say whatever you want, right here.''
James huffed and puffed on the other side, before relenting. ''Ed, we need to discuss the future. Tour's about to end and we need to announce something sooner or later.''
Eddie could feel his nostrils flare. ''There is nothing to announce. Every normal artist takes a break after a big tour.''
''Well, you're not exactly normal, Eddie.'' Ouch, Eddie has a quick flashback to his high school days. ''Besides, you signed a contract with management for 60 shows this year. We're only half way there. That means, you need to do more shows later in the year.''
''I'm not doing shit. I'm burnt the fuck out, I need a break.'' Eddie bit back, his other fist clenched on his side.
''That sucks, but this is the business. You can take a break after you fulfill your contract, that was the deal and you know that. I'll have the team send out an announcement that the tour is extended.''
Eddie felt helpless, driven to a corner. He knew the contract he signed and the penalties that come with it if he broke it. That's not something he thought about when he put his signature on the paper - this was his dream, what he was born to do. The more time passed, the more bits and pieces of him went missing. Everybody wanted something, needed something from him. No one thought about what Eddie might need. If he was tired, he was being offered drugs to vamp up his system, get him going again. If he was lonely, there was a line of girls (and guys) outside his dressing room. He indulged in it for a while, but soon that wasn't enough either.
''Whatever, man.'' Eddie hung up the phone and stared at the screen, the light illuminating his sunken eyes, the heavy bags under his eyes. Almost in a haze, Eddie found himself searching up Wayne's number from his contacts and clicking call. The line rang a few times until it clicked. It was silent at first, until Eddie heard the distinctly gruff voice of his uncle, instantly filling him with warmth and the obvious guilt.
''Ed? That you?'' Wayne's voice was low, like he had just woken up which might have been the case, Eddie didn't even think about what time it was in Indiana.
''Y-yeah. Shit, I'm sorry, I-I didn't think about the time difference. Fuck you were probably sleeping, shit, we can talk later, I can-'' Eddie was rambling, embarrassed. It was awkward, he hadn't spoken to his uncle in months.
''Stop, stop. It's fine. Are you all right?'' Wayne interrupted before his nephew ended the call, losing him again.
''Yeah, of course.'' Eddie lied, and Wayne knew that but he didn't want to push too much. ''J-just wanted to check in, I guess.''
''Have you been getting my messages?''
''I have, yeah. Been busy, you know...'' Eddie replied quietly, his voice shaking. He wanted to explode, tell Wayne everything, he would know what to do. He always did. But Eddie wasn't ready to hear the truth yet.
''Are you sure you're alright, son? You don't sound like yourself.''
Eddie panicked. ''Yeah, definitely. Living the dream, eh? Look I, um, have to go. It was good to hear your voice though.''
''Ed, don't hang up-''
''Talk to you soon, bye!'' Eddie hung up the call and let the phone drop from his hands like it had burnt him. He walked over to the minibar and fetched a mini size tequila, downing it in one go, hoping the burn in his throat would distract him from the ache in his heart.
.•♫•♬•
It had been a fairly quiet day at work so far. Robin was currently attending to customers, taking their orders while you were sweeping tables and cleaning up the empty coffee cups, bringing them to the back and loading them into the dishwasher. It was only the two of you at the café today.
Robin joined you in the back, keeping an eye out for the front as well. ''Hey, I have a favor to ask.''
''Shoot,'' you shot back where you were arranging the cups in the machine.
''I was wondering if you could close by yourself today. Cherry's taking me to a concert today. It's a few hours away and we might be late if we don't leave sooner.'' Robin looked at you with pleading eyes. Normally, you wouldn't agree so easily, but considering the lack of business today, you figured it wouldn't be too much hassle. Cherry was Robin's... friend. They've really hit it off since meeting at the bar four days ago and to her credit, she did drag both of your asses home that night, so bonus points for that. It probably won't be too long until one of them gets on with it to make it official. From what you've heard from Robin, Cherry is super fun, adventurous, funny and can't keep her hands to herself, which you could've lived without knowing to be honest.
''Ooh, is this your first proper date?'' you smirk, getting up and leaning against the machine.
Robin's cheeks flush pink. ''Yes. I'm really excited!''
''Hmm. Of course you can go, I can finish up here myself. Next time you have to introduce us though, I mean properly. When I'm not wasted.''
''Thank you! I will!'' Robin pulls you into a crushing hug, smacking a kiss to your forehead.
''What concert are you going to, anyway?'' you ask when she pulls away to gather her things, ripping her apron off.
''I actually don't know, it's some rock or metal concert. Not my style, you know that.''
''Well, have fun!'' you shout after her, watching her leave through the back door. Thankfully it was only an hour 'til closing time, so you made your way back to the front and kept yourself busy until then. At one point, your phone vibrated with a new message in your pocket. You were surprised to see it was from your new friend with a fake name, Kirk.
06.37pm - Kirk
''Hi. How are you?''
06.38pm - Kiwi
''I'm good, thanks. What about you?''
06.38pm - Kirk
''I'm fine. Sorry I've been MIA, it's work.''
06.38pm - Kiwi
''That's okay :) What do you do anyway?''
It takes a couple of minutes for him to reply, making you wonder if you didn't scare him off somehow. That didn't seem like too personal of a question, you thought.
06.42pm - Kirk
''I work in entertainment.''
Well that was vague, that could mean anything.
06.42pm - Kiwi
''Are you a porn star? I've always wanted to meet one, I have so many questions.''
06.43pm - Kirk
''Not that kind of entertainment, sorry. What kind of questions though?''
06.44pm - Kiwi
''I'd rather not say. Do you enjoy what you do, though?''
06.46pm - Kirk
''I used to.''
06.47pm - Kiwi
''What changed?''
06.48pm - Kirk
''A lot of things, some that I wasn't prepared for.''
06.49pm - Kirk
''Listen, I have to go. It's work. I'll text you again in a few hours?''
06.50pm - Kiwi
''Sure.''
.•♫•♬•
Eddie was sitting in a car after the show, going back to the hotel. His hands were still clammy for playing guitar for 1,5 hours and his hair was sticking to his face. His eyes were closed as he focused on the motion of the vehicle moving. It didn't take long until he reached the hotel where he would be staying for tonight and climbed out, dragging his duffel bag over his tense shoulder and sauntered to the front desk.
Filling in his contact info, the brunette behind the counter batting his eyelashes when handing him his room card. ''Room 412, mr. Munson. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask.''
Eddie gave the girl a tight lipped smile and grabbed his key card. ''Thank you.''
As he was standing in the elevator, he thought about how the girl at the front desk was basically offering herself to him yet it made him feel nothing. It was a scary thought. Was he this far gone? He couldn't remember the last time he had sex, or jacked off. The exact same time the elevator dinged when reaching his floor, like a lightbulb going off, Eddie realized that the only positive feelings or thoughts he's had in months, have come from interacting with you.
Reaching his room, Eddie threw his bag next to the door and kicked off his boots. He shrugged off his clothes, a trail of fabrics leading from he door to the bathroom. He took a quick shower and strolled to his bed, plopping onto the fresh sheets butt naked and dug through his jeans for a pack of cigarettes, fumbling around until the found the singular joint he had stuffed in with the regular smokes. He lit the joint and took a slow drag, humming to the familiar tangy taste, letting the effects of the drug engulf his overused brain.
Eddie sat on the bed in complete silence, eyes closed. He could only hear the water dripping from his shower. Opening his eyes, he didn’t have to cast a look down to see that he was hard, stiff cock nestled against the tiny pudge of his stomach. Which was to be expected, getting high always made him horny. It’s why he’s cut back recently too, horny or not, he just wasn’t interested in fucking random people anymore and his fist wasn’t doing it for him either.
Right now, however, he couldn’t ignore the ache in his groin. With a sigh, Eddie dropped on his back, feet anchored to the carpeted floor. Wrapping a tentative fist around himself, he gave a couple tugs to test the waters. It sent shivers down his spine, so he continued. Letting go for a moment to spit into his palm, Eddie pumped himself harder, squeezing at the base then running his thumb over the slit, rubbing his pre-cum over the head. His chest was heaving, eyes shut as sparks of pleasure washed over him. He moaned into the silence as the pressure in his belly became too much too quick and sparks soared into a flame as he came all over his fist and abdomen, thick thighs shaking in the process.
.•♫•♬•
You were now back at your apartment, scanning the cupboards for the forgotten pack of Oreos you know you had somewhere. Cursing under your breath, you settled on a glass of white wine and made your way back to your bathroom where the steaming bubblebath was waiting for you to jump in. You set your glass on the closed toilet seat where you could reach it and dropped your towel to climb in the water. You relaxed your head against the edge, your hair held up high and hummed along to the music you set up from your speaker.
It took about ten minutes before your phone dinged with a new message. At this hour, there was only one person who would be texting you - unless it was Robin with an emergency. But it wasn’t her.
01.12am - Kirk
“Hey, you still up?”
01.12am - Kiwi
“Yep, I’m taking a bath.”
01.13am - Kirk
“This late?”
01.14am - Kiwi
“I do it all the time when I don’t work the next day. It’s a routine.”
01.14am - Kirk
“That’s cool. How was your day?”
01.14am - Kiwi
“Slow, you?”
“01.15am - Kirk
“Hectic. What do you do for work, by the way?”
01.15am - Kiwi
“I’m a barista at a coffee shop.”
01.15am - Kirk
“Make a mean espresso then?”
01.15am - Kiwi
“Oh yeah, you should try it.”
The wine was making you a bit more forward than usual. He didn’t seem to mind, though.
01.16am - Kirk
“Would love to. Tell me something about yourself.”
01.16am - Kiwi
“Like what?”
01.17am - Kirk
“Anything.”
You thought about it for a moment, almost dropping your phone in the water as the steamy air made your hands clammy.
01.19am - Kiwi
“I’m an Aquarius, my favorite fruit is kiwi (surprising I’m sure) and my chosen past time is readying smutty books. Your turn!”
01.20am - Kirk
“I was raised by my uncle and I love reading too, but I’m too scared to ask what smutty means.”
01.20am - Kiwi
“Don’t even worry about it. Raised by your uncle, he sounds like a great man.”
01.21am - Kirk
“He is. Where do you live?”
01.22am - Kiwi
“Not sure I should be telling a stranger.”
01.22am - Kirk
“I thought we were friends? :(“
01.23am - Kiwi
“Fine, but don’t come kidnapping me. I live in New York.”
01.24am - Kirk
“Despite my kidnapper look, I’m more of a wine and dine guy.”
01.25am - Kiwi
“I might be into the kidnapper look.”
Oh shit, was that too forward?
01.27am - Kirk
“Really? People used to call me horrible names because of my look.”
01.28am - Kiwi
“I’m sorry, what did they call you? No pressure.”
01.28am - Kirk
“Mostly just freak.”
01.29am - Kiwi
“Well, I like freaky, so..”
01.30am - Kirk
“I might have to test that.”
You were surprised how easily you fell into flirting with a complete stranger to be honest. You kept switching between talking about random stuff and flirting. You learned that he was kind of a nerd in high school, he used to play some board game you didn’t know and he confessed that his favorite band is Metallica (didn’t take a genius to figure that out). You told him about your childhood cat that went missing one night, how you started your job as a barista and what your favorite cocktail is. You thought about asking him about calling instead, as texting was pretty tiring but decided to leave that for another time.
You came out of your bubble when you noticed the water had gone cold, your wine glass sitting empty on the tile next to the tub. You wished Eddie a good night and promised to text him tomorrow. You quickly dried off, chuckling at your wrinkly fingers and toes and put on a pair of comfortable panties, jumping under the covers. Your eyes were at half mast but the sleep didn’t come yet. You were still thinking about Kirk, rubbing your thighs together simply at the memory of him. This hole thing was so unusual, you knew some things about him now, but had no idea what he looked like or what his real name was. You had a picture in your head, but it was vague. You didn’t imagine his face or his body, but more his aura, his energy. It might sound extremely naïve, but he gave off good vibes and he made you feel nice. As you finally drifted off to sleep, it was to the thoughts of him only.
When you woke up the next morning, the skies were gray and rain was tapping against your windows. That turned your original plans of taking a walk later today upside down. You checked the time on your phone, where it read nearly 11am with a good morning text.
09.16am - Kirk
''Good morning, I hope you have a good day. Let me know what you get up to :)''
You'd text him back later, as the grumbling of your stomach was a more pressing issue at the moment.
Once you were stuffed full of eggs, bacon and a glass of apple juice, you decided to do some fall shopping. You visited your go-to stores and ended your day in your favorite bookstore, sitting in the small café area sipping chamomile tea and taking a bite out of a chocolate croissant. Then you remembered you had an unanswered text.
2.14pm - Kiwi
''Hey, sorry for the late reply. Promise I didn't forget you!''
2.18pm - Kirk
''Good, I was starting to get worried.''
2.19pm - Kiwi
''Why, you miss me already? 😉''
2.20pm - Kirk
''Yes.''
You swallowed thickly at his admission. It was weird that he missed you, you didn't even know each other's names. It was weird that you were unashamedly flirted with him. It was weird, because you didn't mind it all. And it was definitely weird, that your tummy fluttered. You blamed it on the tea.
2.22pm - Kirk
''I'm sorry if that freaked you out. I like talking to you, a lot.''
2.23pm - Kiwi
''Don't apologize, I like talking to you, too. What would you think about calling?''
.•♫•♬•
Eddie knew this would come eventually, he had even thought about it himself. He was prepared for it, yet when the question came, he froze. He was rigid, like he was standing on cracked ice and he might fall in any second. He'd just come back from a radio interview, where he was grilled about any updates he might have. With a sour taste in his mouth and the fakest smile he could muster, he announced more tour dates and listed the name of cities they were going to play.
He'd grown more comfortable with you, texting you took his mind off everything else, it was something he was looking forward to more and more every day. He'd also be a liar if he said that you in a bathtub didn't spawn some inappropriate thoughts in his head. You seemed to enjoy his online company too. But what if you recognized him as soon as you heard his voice? Not that he was so presumptuous to assume everybody knew him or his music. What if you'd go googling his name? There are definitely things on there that he regrets doing, most of them even, and things that weren't true.
He was tempted to hear your voice, though. He chose to be honest.
2.30pm - Kirk
''I'm scared.''
2.30pm - Kiwi
''Of what? We don't have to, if you don't want.''
2.31pm - Kirk
''I do want to, really. I'm just kind of.. known.''
Eddie despised the word 'famous' or any other form of that.
2.32pm - Kiwi
''Are you famous?''
Cringe.
2.33pm - Kirk
''Kind of.''
2.35pm - Kiwi
''Are you scared that I might recognize you?''
2.36pm - Kirk
''Yes, I've done some things I'm not proud of.''
2.37pm - Kiwi
''I don't care about that. I know nothing about the celebrity world, so I probably wouldn't recognize you anyway (no offence).''
Eddie chuckled, he felt a bit better about this now.
2.38pm - Kirk
''None taken.''
2.40pm - Kirk
''Can I call you tonight?''
.•♫•♬•
You were lounging on your bed, legs crossed at the ankles with a new book you'd bought earlier sitting on your lap. You had been reading the same page for the last 15 minutes, your eyes sneaking looks at your phone, face down on the bed, taunting you. Thank God you didn't have to go to work tomorrow either, it was almost 2am.
You were waiting for his call. You figured you still had a few minutes to spare, putting your book down and swinging your legs over the side of your bed. Then the phone rang, your heart almost bursting out of your chest. You turned back and flipped your phone, seeing his fake name across the screen. You picked it up, the device vibrating violently.
''Hello?''
#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson smut#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#modern!eddie munson#modern!eddie#for a good time call
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Light the Way - Part One
Pairing: Modern!Aemond Targaryen x female character (third person)
Warnings: Angst, date rape/roofies, slight BDSM
Word count: ~4k
Series masterlist
Chapter summary: Starting a new job is never easy, it's even worse when your boss is an arsehole. When he unexpectedly comes to the rescue though, the relationship dynamic changes drastically.
She graduated from university a year ago with a Bachelor’s degree in PR and Marketing, and still has no idea what she wants from life, although the last twelve months of working as a barista have proven to her that a career in hospitality and customer service is definitely not it. Having happened across an online advertisement of a vacancy for the position of a personal assistant at a private law firm, she applied on a whim, never expecting to hear back. It’s not like she was qualified anyway, so she had nothing to lose
Yet, here she is, almost four weeks later, standing in the foyer of Red Keep Legal, preparing to begin her first day. The office building is sleek and modern, minimalist in decor, yet the polish of everything suggests it is incomprehensibly expensive. A handsome, bearded, older man, dressed in a sharp suit collects her from reception. She learns his name is Otto Hightower and he is a partner at the firm. They are high end solicitors and only take on the most exclusive of clients. She turns his business card over in her hands, the thickness of the smooth, matte black cardstock is high quality, with ornate golden lettering and a blood red logo of a three headed dragon. She knows she has seen that logo before, but can’t place where exactly.
“You’ll be a personal assistant to my grandson, Aemond.” Otto tells her. “He’s working on a particularly tricky case at the moment, so you’ll be responsible for ensuring he has everything he needs. I imagine he won’t ask you to do much more than get him coffee.”
So there it was, the reason she’d gotten the job. She was hoping her coffee making days were behind her, but no such luck. She sighs inwardly, the bitter irony is almost comical.
“Anyway, if you have no further questions, I shall introduce you to Aemond.” Otto concludes.
She smiles and nods politely as he turns on his heel and leads her towards the elevator, stopping on the second to last floor. She follows him along a marble floored corridor, before he gently raps his knuckles against the rich mahogany of an office door. After a few moments the door swings open to reveal the most ethereal being she’d ever laid eyes upon. He is impossibly tall without being gangly or awkward; his long, lithe limbs flow like water as he props himself against the doorframe. His silky, silver locks are perfectly coiffed and she feels self conscious as the bright blue of his right eye scans all the way from her feet to the top of her head, analysing every inch. She notices the skin around his left eye is lightly scarred - the only indication that the realistic prosthetic that sits within the socket isn’t something he can actually see out of. The simple long sleeved top and black trousers she’s wearing suddenly feel drab in comparison to the well tailored navy blue suit he wears, and she fights the urge to hide herself.
“Aemond, this is your new personal assistant.” Otto informs him, gesturing towards her. “Your mother and I worked hard to find this one, so perhaps you could try being a little more cordial than last time.”
She doesn’t stop to think about what that could possibly mean, letting out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in and rushing forward, smiling wide and extending a hand.
“Hi Aemond! It’s wonderful to meet you!”
His plush, full lips remain unmoving, as he stuffs his hands into his pockets, not returning the gesture and continuing to study her.
She drops her hand, feeling deflated and laughs nervously.
Clearly not picking up on the awkwardness, or simply not caring, Otto glances between the two of them, before giving a curt nod and striding back towards the elevator.
Aemond watches him go before returning his attention back to her.
“Wonderful to meet me, hm?” he finally says, quirking an eyebrow.
Before she can respond, he continues, “Look, I’ve told my grandfather I don’t need an assistant and I like my own space. I’m looking over some contracts at the moment, so I would prefer it if you could make yourself scarce.” He disappears from view, allowing his office door to close behind him.
She immediately feels miserable. Her shoulders slump as she stands in front of the closed door. The first day of a new job should feel exciting, especially when your boss is so breathtakingly handsome, but this guy is rude and has declared her useless within minutes of meeting her. For a moment she considers just walking out and not returning.
She spends the remainder of the day sitting at her desk that’s positioned to the outer left of Aemond’s door. No one goes in or out, and not once does she catch sight of him. As far as first days go this is undoubtedly the worst she has ever experienced. As tempting as it is to just bail and head home, she desperately needs the cash, so she watches the hours slowly tick by on the off chance her stand-offish boss may suddenly decide he needs something. By the time 6pm rolls around, and she stands to gather her things, her legs have cramped from sitting for so long and she curses herself for only stretching her legs on the few occasions she went to the bathroom.
Arriving home, she finds her flatmate isn’t back yet and breathes a sigh of relief, knowing she’d be bombarded with questions about her first day and not have a positive answer for any of them. She uses the opportunity to pace the flat, rifling through the contact sheet and paperwork she has been given. She sighs when she happens upon the number listed for Aemond - what was the point of having the number of someone who seemingly wanted nothing to do with her? She saves it to her phone anyway, tomorrow was a new day after all. Perhaps she’ll score a few brownie points if she texts and offers to grab him coffee on her way to the office. She still can’t figure out why he’d been so cold towards her. Flopping down on the couch with a glass of wine, she boots up her laptop, deciding to do some research on Aemond Targaryen, as she realises that beyond meeting him today and knowing he works for one of the most prestigious law firms in all of Westeros, she really knows nothing about the man she is supposed to be working for.
She wakes up early the next morning, armed with a plan. Her evening of wine-fuelled research had been fruitful. She’d discovered that Aemond was from a family of famous Valyrian legal, political and business figures. Her recognition of the logo on Otto’s card was because it was regularly splashed across all of the major tabloid and broadsheet newspapers. She’d read through a few old articles regarding family drama, disputes over assets, and the death of his father to get an idea of who he was, before deciding his cold demeanour is likely attributed to the combined stress of his job and seemingly endless rifts between his mother and half-sister. She decides that if she is to break down his walls then she will do so with kindness, but she also wants to look the part - if she is to fit in with such sophisticated people then she needs to start dressing like one. She slips into a pencil skirt so fitted it looks like it has been painted on, alongside a sheer white blouse and a killer pair of black stilettos. She completes the look with perfectly styled hair and a thick coat of blood red lipstick. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t vying for more than Aemond’s professional attention, but she’d try anything at this point just to get him to acknowledge her presence. Giving herself a last once over look in the mirror, she fires off what she considers to be a breezy good morning text to Aemond, before heading to the coffee shop she used to work at. “Good morning Mr. Targaryen! Hope you’re well today. I’ll grab you a coffee on my way to the office. See you soon!”
Arriving exactly thirty minutes later, coffees in hand, she is disappointed to see that she’s been left on read. Nevermind. She has gone all out with the coffee order, asking for the special roast of beans with an extra shot and foamed milk. This was sure to win him over. She knocks timidly at his office door and after a long moment is about to knock again when it swings slowly open with a perfectly poised Aemond on the other side. God, he was breathtaking.
She realises she has gone too long without saying anything when he snaps out an impatient “Yes?” She jumps slightly, stepping forward into his office without an invitation. Aemond cautiously backs away, his brow furrowing with suspicion and confusion.
She thrusts one of the cups towards him, “Umm…I text you. Did you - uh - coffee?” Great, now I’ve lost the fucking power of speech.
Aemond gingerly accepts the cup from her, without saying thank you. “Are you always this articulate?” He says flatly, before taking a sip. His nose instantly wrinkles, “Ugh, does this have milk in it? I’m allergic to dairy."
Her eyes widen in horror, "Oh gods,, I’m so sorry! I should have thought to ask, I can always get you-"
"Forget it.” He cuts her off, “That will be all for the day, before you try to poison me any further. Close the door on your way out.”
Fantastic, another day sat at my desk, except this time I’m dressed like a cheap escort.
The confidence she’d felt when she stepped out of the door this morning had been crushed flat by Aemond in a matter of seconds. She sits with her hands clasped tightly in front of her on the desk, willing her unshed tears away. Did he want her to quit? She’d placed everything on this job and she didn’t want to give it up without a fight. Sje simply couldn’t understand why Aemond seemed to hate her so much.
After a few hours pass by, she notices it is lunch time - he has to take a break some time. She decides that now is when she’ll make her move. Standing purposefully, she sniffs back her tears and checks her make-up in her compact mirror, before strutting back towards Aemond’s door. She’ll give that arsehole a piece of her mind. It was about time he learned to respect her.
She bursts into Aemond’s office without knocking. “Just who in the hell do you think you are?!” she rants, not waiting for his reaction to her sudden intrusion.
He looks up from the documents he has been reading and stares at her, but his expression is unreadable.
He stays silent, so she continues her tirade. “I didn’t have a fucking clue who you were when I accepted this job, despite that I’ve treated you with nothing but respect and you can’t even extend me the same courtesy!” She paces as she yells at him, gesticulating wildly. There’s a part of her telling her to stop, that this behaviour will likely get her fired, but at this point it would have been like attempting to put toothpaste back in the tube. “I know you think you’re hot shit, but that doesn’t exempt you from behaving like a decent human being.” She stops and looks at him then, his face still a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at her from his seat at the desk. “Why aren’t you saying anything?!” She demands.
“Oh, are you done?” He replies sarcastically.
She throws her hands up in exasperation, eliciting a huge sigh at his complete lack of emotion.
Accepting her reaction as affirmation, he diverts his attention back to his paperwork and mutters “Well, if that’s all, you know where the door is.”
It takes all of her willpower not to grab the nearest object and launch it towards his head. She storms outside, slamming the door as she goes. Fuck this. Walking purposefully straight to the elevator, she lets it take her to the ground floor before hastily exiting the office building. There was absolutely no way she was spending another second in this godforsaken building.
Arriving home she throws her keys a little too aggressively onto the kitchen counter and heads straight towards the fridge, grabbing for the can of whipped cream. As she loudly squirts an unhealthy sized swirl of it into her mouth, her flatmate, Rhea, looks up from her laptop with an amused smile and asks “Rough morning?”
She hadn’t noticed her sitting at the dining table, too engrossed in her own foul mood to have any awareness of her surroundings. “Think I lost my job.” She slurs without bothering to swallow.
Rhea closes the lid of her laptop and rushes to pull her into a bear hug. Finally releasing her, she smiles kindly and wipes cream from her chin, before saying “First of all, you’re gross, and second, how has that happened? You’ve been there less than 48 hours!”
“It’s a long story.” She sighs, “The short version is that my boss is an arsehole, so I yelled at him and then left the office.”
“Oh.” Rhea winces, “That’s bad.”
“What the fuck am I going to do?!” She whines, rubbing her temples.
“Well, it might not solve your impending unemployment, but we could go out tonight?”
“Are you high right now, Rhea?! The only thing I’ll be doing tonight is looking at the classifieds!”
“Come on, you were miserable for so long in your last job and don’t seem to be faring much better in this one. You deserve a little fun!”
“I dunno…”
“I’m not taking no for an answer! I’m working from home today, so having a reason to leave the flat later will keep me sane. Plus you don’t even need to get changed - you are wearing that outfit!”
“Fine. I guess one drink couldn’t hurt.”
Rhea squeals with excitement, clapping her hands. “Amazing! Now be a doll and fuck off until 7pm, I have to concentrate.”
Rhea returns to her laptop while she retreats to her room, wondering if there will ever be a point this week where she isn’t being told to go away by someone.
The bar they end up at later that evening is loud and overcrowded. Despite that, she can feel herself relaxing. Perhaps it was the second white wine she was sipping or the steady beat of the music causing her to sway your hips involuntarily, but for the first time in two days she wasn't thinking about Aemond. She sighs contentedly, draining her glass and flashing Rhea a toothy grin as she pushes through the crowd with their next round of drinks.
“Having fun?” Rhea half shouts over the cacophony of noise.
Nodding, she grabs her hand, dragging her towards the dance floor. She chugs her drink as they both move to the rhythm of the song playing. She feels woozy and attributes it to drinking too much wine too fast.
“You want water?” She shouts to Rhea, making a drinking motion with her hand. Rhea nods gratefully and she staggers her way to the bar. She can feel her vision shifting in and out of focus and getting her legs to work the way she wants them to is proving difficult. Changing course, she heads outside, deciding a few lungfuls of fresh air will help set her straight.
As she slides down the brick exterior of the building she barely notices the dark figure that has followed her outside. “Easy.” A gruff male voice says, though in her mind it sounds far away, “Just relax.” Rough hands paw at her as her head flops around on a neck that feels boneless.
“Get the fuck off her.” She hears a familiar voice snarl demandingly. The man is gone in a flash and replaced instead by someone crouching in front of her, cupping her cheeks and coaxing her to look up into a concerned blue eye.
“Aemond?” She slurs.
“Keep looking at me.” Aemond says, cradling her head, “I’m fairly certain that that prick spiked your drink. I’m going to make sure you get home safely, but you need to stay awake, okay?”
Her eyes are glassy and Aemond blurs and duplicates in her vision as he keeps her face tilted up towards him. “Rhea.” She mumbles groggily.
As if summoned by the utterance of her name, her room mate pushes her way out of the bar, phone in hand, looking left and right. When she finally catches sight of her slumped on the ground with a man crouching over her, she shrieks and runs towards her. “What are you doing to her?!”
“Helping her.” Aemond replies flatly, without looking away from her. “Pretty sure she’s been spiked.”
“Jesus!” Rhea squeals, kneeling at her side, before finally looking over at Aemond. “Holy shit! You’re Aemond Targaryen! Your uncle is so hot!”
Aemond rolls his eye, hooking his arms around the body of the semi-conscious woman in front of him and slowly lifting her to her feet.
“Should we call the police?” Rhea asks, slowly realising the gravity of the situation.
Aemond turns to stare at her. “It will take an hour for them to get here.” He explains. “And when they do they’ll just file a report which they’ll never follow up on. Our time is better spent getting her home, so she’s at least safe. I’m assuming you know where she lives?”
Rhea nods. “We’re flatmates.”
Aemond momentarily supports her weight with a single arm as he fishes his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and passes it to Rhea. “Order an Uber”.
“Thanks for helping her.” Rhea says, as the Uber finally pulls up to the curb. They waited in total silence and any excitement Rhea had felt at having met Aemond was rapidly dissipating into awkward discomfort. “I can look after her from here.” She moves to take her from the supporting hold he has on her.
“Because you’ve done such an incredible job of that so far.” He retorts icily. “I’m coming with you.”
He maneuveres her limp form into the back of the car as Rhea makes her way around to the other side to sit next to her. She is surprised to see Aemond fold his tall frame into the backseat beside her, fully expecting him to ride shotgun. The drive back is tense and uncomfortable. She sits unconscious, sandwiched between the two of them, her heading lolling against Aemond’s shoulder.
“So…” Rhea begins, attempting to break the silence, “You’re the arsehole boss then?”
It was intended as a joke, but Aemond’s humourless chuckle instantly makes her cheeks burn at having said something so rude. “Is it true you’re going to fire her?”
Aemond seems surprised at that. “No,” He says simply. “I won’t expect to see her in the office tomorrow, she’ll need a day to recover, but tell her to be there at 9am sharp on Thursday. And I take my coffee black.”
“Sure.” Rhea smiles meekly. By this point, the Uber has pulled up to its destination. “Would you like to uh…?” She asks, gesturing towards the block of flats.
“No, I think you’ll be fine from here.” He responds, “Goodnight.”
With that, Rhea is left to help her out of the car, which pulls away as soon as she's closed the door.
The next day she awakens with no memory of the evening before, feeling like she has the mother of all hangovers. She swears loudly as she looks at the time and realises it’s almost midday. If she wasn’t fired before, she certainly was now.
Hearing she is awake, Rhea sweeps into the room with a tall glass of water for her. She fills her in on the details of the previous evening and she listens in stunned silence. She spends the rest of the day in bed, struggling to process what has happened to her and the fact that a man she’d assumed hated her had come so valiantly to her rescue.
Thursday morning rolls around quickly and she dresses simply in black trousers and a sensible cardigan. She heads to grab Aemond his morning coffee; black coffee. No sooner had she deposited the cup into his hand had apologies begun tumbling from her lips, saying sorry for how she’d spoken to him, sorry for storming off, sorry for him having to look after her. He cuts her off, sliding a sheet of paper towards her.
“This,” He begins, “Is a list of things I need you to do for me today. Think you can handle it?”
She nods, stunned at finally being asked to help him out.
“Perfect. See you later.”
The day passes in a blur and she struggles. This is the first day she’s actually performing the job she has been hired to do and the busy, demanding nature of a prestigious law firm was worlds apart from the past two days of sitting at her desk and sulking. She gets lost trying to deliver documents to various people’s offices, forgets to seal contracts in confidential envelopes and accidentally hangs up on no less than five clients while trying to transfer their calls. It is a complete disaster.
She sits, highlighting every instance of the word “Harrenhal” in a document, feeling totally overwhelmed. How could anyone manage to be so bad at a relatively simple job?! The truth was, she kept finding herself distracted, thinking about what had happened to her two nights ago. What would have happened if Aemond hadn’t shown up? She caps the highlighter pen, resting her head in her hands and fails to suppress a sob.
Hearing his office door open, she turns to face Aemond as he exits, attempting to compose herself, but knows he has likely already seen her crying. “Sorry.” She whispers. “I’m just having a bad day. Ignore me.” She sniffles and wipes her eyes.
Silently Aemond beckons her into his office, maintaining eye contact as he does so.
She follows obediently, dread gnawing at her insides, certain he’s going to fire her.
“Kneel.” He quietly commands, once the door is closed behind them.
“What?!” Her eyes widen in shock.
“Trust me, you need this. Kneel.” He insists.
She does as she is told, kneeling before him, gazing up at his impossibly tall frame with curiosity.
He slowly reaches out a hand, fingers gently grazing her jawline, before running a thumb over her lips. He pushes gently, parting them and meeting the resistance of her teeth. “Open”.
This time she doesn’t question his request, silently accepting the alien intrusion of Aemond’s thumb into her mouth. Instinctively she feels herself sucking on the digit and gradually relaxes. The sensation sends a throb of arousal straight to her core. She’d never experienced anything like this before, but seeing him tower over her, offering his thumb for her to suck was strangely erotic.
“Better?” He asks.
She simply nods, doe-eyed and staring at him in awe.
“Good.” He smiles slightly, stooping down until his lips are ghosting the shell of her ear. It makes her shiver. “I much preferred Tuesday’s outfit, by the way. Maybe that can make a reappearance tomorrow?”
#aemond targaryen#house of the dragon#aemond#aemond one eye#prince aemond targaryen#pro aemond targaryen#aemond stannies#modern aemond#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen angst#hotd#hotd smut#hotd angst#aemond targaryen fanfiction#aemond targaryen fan fiction#aemond targaryen fanfic#aemond targaryen fan fic#hotd fanfiction#hotd fan fiction#hotd fanfic#hotd fan fic
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chance encounters | pt. 1
character(s): Benny Miller, fem!Reader, (very) brief cameos from the rest of the Triple Frontier boys at the end
summary: You've lost your way after losing your best friend in a tragic car accident. So, you go back to the one sport that makes you feel closer to him.
word count: 1.9k
a/n: This story is very personal to me and pulled from some real-life experiences (maybe not exactly, but still). I know I said I wouldn't write anything within this time period with April being such a very emotional month for me, but I've found that this story is actually helping me through my grief. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy and thanks for reading 🫶
warnings: very brief mentions of grief (which will be a reoccurring warning)
series masterlist | ultimate masterlist
“Benny Miller. I’m the owner and potentially, your coach,” the man says with a charming smile. He’s tall, broad, built, and you can’t help but notice his deep blue eyes. There’s a sense of comfort that you feel when you look at him. He’s dressed in red shorts and a white t-shirt with a dark cap placed backwards on his head and you can see the dark blonde curls peeking out from underneath it. “Welcome to Miller MMA Gym.”
“Hi,” you finally respond, saying your name to introduce yourself. Your hand grips the strap of your duffle bag that was placed over your shoulder. You feel slightly out of your element even though this is your comfort zone. Fighting is your comfort zone.
“Nice to meet you. Let me give you a tour of the gym and then we can sit down and go over your goals and everything else. Sound good?”
“That sounds good,” you repeat. “Thanks.”
Benny spends the next twenty minutes giving you a tour of his gym and you can tell just from the sound of his voice that he loves this sport and he has put a lot of thought into creating a gym where he can share with other like minded people. There are black mats in the entirety of the building with thick, red outlines at the edges. There are about seven heavy bags lined up along the wall with an octagon cage towards the back of the building. The gym is small, cozy, and it makes you feel like it’s a place where you belong.
“This is a really nice gym you got, Benny.”
“I know it’s not as big as other MMA gyms. We don’t have all the fancy equipment, the extra free weights, but I like that it’s small. Plus, I don’t just let anyone train here.”
“Oh?” you ask, brow arching. “So, I’m guessing this is a bit like a consultation?”
Benny nods. “I want to make sure we’re a good fit. This sport…” he sighs. “I want people who are dedicated, who will push themselves to the limit, you know? I don’t want to waste your time and I certainly don’t want you to waste mine.”
“Makes sense,” you agree.
He removes his sandals and steps onto the mat. You follow him and set your duffle bag down, your feet touching the cushioned mats and your gently bounce on your toes before you sit down in front of him.
“How long have you trained for?”
“Never actually had a coach or joined a gym like this, if I’m being honest. My best friend,” you sigh shakily. “He used to fight, was an amateur though. He taught me everything I know and always encouraged me to pick up the sport too.”
“So, what changed?”
“He died.”
Benny offers you a solemn look. He bites the inside of his cheek and nods. He knows grief all too well and he had known the minute you stepped into his gym that there was something lingering within you, something that you wanted to keep hidden. “I’m sorry.”
You shrug. You had grown tired of hearing that. Why would they be sorry? What could they even do about it? It simply frustrated you. “Anyway, fighting’s always been something I felt comfortable doing and I don’t want to join an MMA gym where it’s all ego and trying to one-up one another.”
“I’m glad you said that,” Benny adds. “I’ve been to gyms like that and I fuckin’ hate it. I mean, we’re all there because we love the same sport. It can get competitive and sparring can get really bad… Which is why I like doing these consultations before even making a commitment with someone. I don’t want my gym to be like those.”
You nod, the corner of your lips lifting only slightly, but as quickly as it rose, it drops. You always had to catch yourself whenever you felt an ounce of happiness or relief. It didn’t feel fair. It didn’t feel right to be happy when your best friend was gone.
“Well, I want to fight, Benny. Competitively. I don’t know if I can even make it, but I want to try. Fighting is where I feel most at home.”
Benny smiles. You see his blue eyes light up. Then, he reaches his hand back out to you. “Well then, welcome aboard. I’d love to have you, and I’d love to train you and be your coach.”
The happiness flutters in your stomach and you force yourself to ignore it. You don’t smile at him, but your eyes - your eyes have always been so expressive. Your eyes soften when you look up at him, tears threatening to spill over, and you reach out to shake his hand. “I’d love that, Coach.”
“Welcome to the team,” he grins. “Let’s see what you got.”
—
An hour and a half later and you’re dripping with sweat. You’re leaning back against one corner of the octagon, knees close to your chest as you rest your arms over them, trying to catch your breath. Benny didn’t waste any time assessing your abilities, but you welcomed the distraction and for the last hour and a half, you hadn’t thought about your best friend.
“We got one more round,” Benny calls out. “Get back up, let’s go.”
You let out a deep breath and nod, standing. You shake your arms to loosen them, feeling the fatigue slowly begin to settle in. You glance at the time and see it begin to count down. Once the round begins, the sound of a buzzer filters the small gym and immediately, you bring your hands to cover your face, standing in an orthodox fighter’s stance.
Benny holds out the pads and calls out the following combinations:
Left jab, cross, left hook!
Double jab, cross!
Right front kick, double left round kick!
Throughout the round, you’re moving in the cage, staying light on your feet and never crossing them. You don’t even notice the way Benny’s smiling down at you, so proudly and full of hope.
“Alright, thirty seconds left!” Benny calls out. He notices how locked in you are, how focused, and he hasn’t seen someone as motivated in a first session as you. It gives him hope that you’re actually serious about competing.
Left jab, right body kick!
1-2 punch, left hook, right body kick!
Again!
By the time the round ends and the buzzer fills your ears, you’re breathing heavily, sweat dripping down your temples and the sides of your neck.
“Holy shit,” Benny chuckles. “You’re amazing.”
“My stamina is shit,” you say breathlessly.
“We’ll work on that,” he smiles. “Great job today.”
You remove your gloves and sit back down, leaning against the same corner of the octagon as you begin to unwrap your hands. You see the initials on your wraps and you’re brought back to reality. You bring your hands to stroke your dampened hair back and away from your face, redoing the hair tie to pull your hair into a tighter ponytail.
“That was– It felt like home,” you admit, looking up at him.
Benny chuckles and extends a hand for you. You take it and stand up, following him out of the octagon. “I’m excited about you, about this partnership. I think you’re gonna be great.”
You look at the time and realize that it’s already way past the normal business hours and quickly, you grab your duffle bag. “I didn’t mean to keep you here longer than you needed to be. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t sweat it,” Benny says softly then adds, “I just realized we didn’t get to the paperwork side of things.”
“I can come in tomorrow,” you say, draping the strap of the duffle bag over your shoulder. “And however much it is, I’ll pay it up front.”
Benny’s eyes widen. “Whoa, whoa, wait–”
“I’m serious about this, Benny. There’s nothing I want more than to fight and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to do that.”
“Okay, tomorrow morning. Ten o’clock sound good?”
“Sounds great.” You shake his hand once more and he leads the both of you out of his gym. You look up at the sound of another man’s voice and see three other men - all of different statures - greet Benny with a smile. You don’t spend another second sparing each of them a glance, just now wanting to get home.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Benny calls out. “And I think I’ve got a great nickname for you.”
You toss your duffle back into the trunk of your car and shut it closed. You look over at Benny and notice all four men staring at you, but Benny’s the only one grinning. The other three, you notice, are staring at you with a look of hesitancy and curiosity. You take note that Benny’s the taller out of the four, but there’s another one that’s only a few inches shorter. He’s just as broad and built, the same blue eyes, but hair much shorter and slightly lighter. Then, your eyes veer off to the other two, your eyes lingering on one man in particular with a Standard Heating Oil cap placed atop of his curls. The other man standing next to him is the shortest, but he has just as big of a presence as Benny. His hair is greyer, but you have to wonder if it’s due to stress or if he’s much older than the rest of the group.
“A nickname is too soon, don’t you think? You don’t really know me yet, Benny.”
Benny shrugs. “Let’s just call it a gut feeling.”
“Okay, so what’s the nickname?”
“The Warrior,” he grins.
You chuckle. You actually let out a laugh and for months, you had almost forgotten what it was like to laugh. It’s ironic really, almost like your best friend was taunting you from even beyond the grave. He had always called you his little warrior after everything you had been through and how you had never given up, always willing to fight your way through difficult hardships. But now… Now you can’t even imagine fighting your way out of this grief that has taken over your life.
Benny then looks over at his friends, not realizing that he had forgotten to introduce them to you. “We can talk it over. I’m open to other nicknames, but it just seems right for you.”
“We’ll see, Benny.”
“By the way, these are my–”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Coach.” You interrupt him, not bothering to spare another glance at the other three men. You climb into your car and start it immediately, pulling out of the parking lot without another look at Benny or his friends.
Benny turns to his friends and shrugs. “She’s got potential,” he begins. “I think she can make it big.”
“You say that about almost everyone, Ben,” Santiago chuckles. “Is she usually that… standoffish?”
“She just lost her best friend,” Benny sighs.
“Damn,” Frankie mumbles.
“And you think that it’s a good idea that she fights?” Will asks. “Emotions and all of that–”
“I think she needs this,” Benny admits. “And we all know how it is to lose someone close to us.”
“Does she–” Frankie sighs. “Does she have anyone else to rely on?”
Again, Benny shrugs. “I just met her a few hours ago, but something tells me that she might be alone.”
“Fuck,” Santiago adds. “Well, is she any good?”
Benny nods. “Like I said, I think she can make it big.”
“Well, whatever you need, we’ll be here,” Will says, clasping a hand over his younger brother’s shoulder. “Now, should we all get out of here and go get some drinks?”
Santiago grins. “Yeah, let’s.” He nods in Frankie’s direction and adds, “Vamanos.”
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal character#garrett hedlund#garrett hendlund character#oscar isaac#oscar isaac character#charlie hunnam#charlie hunnam character#triple frontier#will ironhead miller#benny miller#santiago pope garcia#frankie catfish morales#triple frontier fanfic#triple frontier fanfiction#story: chance encounters
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Man I've written 26 fics for rise, that's insane, anyway here's a master post, sort of? I realized some people either A) may not know how many different fics I've written or B) not realized "oh he wrote that" sooo
One Shots
Don't You Care? – Donnie and Leo centric, post-movie. Donnie isn't always great with feelings, and when he fails to understand Leo's, he tries to find a way to fix it. Doing so forces him to unpack some of his own thoughts on their victory over the kraang as well.
To Bridge a Canyon of your Own Design – Splinter centric, post-movie, a bit of a retrospective on his relationship with his sons, his depression, and him trying to move away from his unhealthy coping mechanisms.
I Didn't Vote for You – Leo's the leader now, and Donnie always finds ways to argue with him about it. Leo wants to find out why Donnie has such a problem with how he's trying to lead the team, but it turns out that isn't the problem. It's simply the fact that Leo's the leader at all.
I'd Give Anything – Donnie-centric. A slightly alternate take on the movie's ending where instead of just firing a drill into the portal, Donnie jumped in, and ends up losing an arm in the process. But he has to kind of piece all of that together as he recovers in the med bay, talking to each of his family members.
Grappling With Things Beyond Your Control – Gift fic for my friend Bat! Donnie-centric, post season 2. Suddenly getting ninpo with no prior training causes Donnie's powers to start to run amok, and on top of that he has to help his family not only find a new home but move into one. It's a lot to balance, maybe too much to balance.
Four Turtles in your Corner (Store) – A silly fic about April being out of supplies for her period, and in desperation sends the boys to go get her some. I'm sure four reptilian mutants have competent knowledge on what humans need for things like this.
Now Lie In It – Big Bang fic! Takes place during season 2. Leo won't sleep, and ends up getting on Donnie's nerves. The softshell's solution to the problem is a simple sleep potion, but when he pours too much into Leo's tea his brother won't wake up. Time to force April and Draxum to go find an antidote while he hides his mistake from the rest of his family. (it sounds angsty but it's comedic, actually)
What Will You Leave Behind – Big Bang fic! Doomed timeline, Raph centric. Raph is the first of his siblings to die during the war. And while he does everything he can to be their ever present pillar as they eventually follow after, he can't help but loathe the fact that the ones still down there are suffering and he can't do anything to help.
My Words Died With You – Gift fic for Bat! Doomed timeline, Donnie centric. Donnie quit speaking when Raphael died, months later he still isn't. His family tries to help him cope with this, even Raphael does from the afterlife, but it may not be enough.
VHHB series
(These are all post-movie)
My Roommate the Troubled Time Traveler – Casey and Draxum centric. Casey Jones Jr. isn't coping too great with being in the present, and trying to live in the lair isn't helping. So Mikey has the GREAT idea to convince Draxum to let Casey be his roommate. The alchemist thinks this is a terrible idea, but he might be able to help the kid far more than he realizes.
Violet Hues and Holly Blue – Donnie centric. 8 months after the kraang invasion and Donnie's been the reigning champ in the Battle Nexus for a while, in his attempts to improve his mystic abilities. But this draws the attention of a business focused wasp named Holly Blue who offers to help sell his tech designs in the Hidden City. Donnie ends up agreeing, having to keep that secret from his family too, but eventually they're going to find out. (This is only a partial summary haha sorry, fic is heckin long)
Missing Pages – Just some VHHB extras, but hey it features Big Mama being herself, Lou Jitsu maiming some people, Donnie dealing with past blood on his hands and uuuuh Leo and Holly becoming friends (what a mood whiplash)
You Are Loved – Two-shot fic about the Caseys (of the Senior and Junior variety). Casey Jr. wants to know why his ninpo sprung up so suddenly, and in his search to find out discovers his family is much closer than he realizes. Meanwhile Cassandra is struggling with her place among the Hamatos, it doesn't help when she finds out they're keeping a pretty big secret from her. Hopefully they can make it up to her.
The Sun and Icarus – Mikey-centric. He's been doing pretty good at developing his mystic abilities lately, but now they're starting to explode, pretty violently. And it turns out if this keeps up the whole ordeal could just kill him. Better find a way to put a cap on it, or something to that effect. (Wow more power overloading fics from ME)
Girls' Night – April centric one shot, also April/Sunita. She's just trying to have a fun night out with the girls, inviting Holly Blue along for the ride, but maybe that was a mistake because in her attempts to playfully tease the wasp, she's suddenly forced to confront her own crush.
And For my Next Trick – Leo-centric one shot. Leo's getting frustrated with his lack of progress on his mystic powers, and with Hueso's advice decides to shift his focus to a different kind of magic, stage magic. With Hueso Jr.'s help, he plans to put on an entire show, which should be fine if some other magician doesn't show up to steal the show.
Look Up Hero in the Dictionary – Raph centric. Raph's feeling a bit too idle in the city lately, with only minor crimes going on, but in his wish for something exciting a strange explosion happens at an apartment building. He attempts to help everyone escape, but a yokai holding the building together stays behind, and on top of that charges Raph with the task to take care of her child. Have fun taking care of a powerful psychic seven-year old, Raph.
What You're Made Of - Casey Jr. centric. Casey is getting frustrated with discovering weird things about his body like skin problems and peanut allergies. Draxum suggests he find out who his other parent is to get an idea of his genetic history, but when he finds out who it is, he's kind of ticked off that his family never told him. (this is a bio dad Raph fic for the record).
Off Colors AU (Separated AU)
Off Colors: Contrasts - Covers season 1. Leonardo's spent most of his life believing he's an only child because his little brother was kidnapped when they were only toddlers. But a rescue mission to the Hidden City with his best friend April results in him finding out he actually has three siblings. And in the span of a couple of weeks he finds out all of them are alive and, unfortunately, working for bad guys. He's going to try everything he can to stop them and convince them to come home, but it may be a fools errand.
Other Chaptered Fics
An Alien Invasion Happened but That's Not Really What This is About - Long ass title. Jason-centric. Hi I wrote a novella sized fic about what happens to this kid during and after the events of the movie. Watch him attempt badly to cope with trauma while also fixing his relationship with his very queer dad who loves him a lot.
Artificial Phoenix – Lou Jitsu died in the arena but then Big Mama said no no no! So Draxum brings him back to life while mutating four turtles so Lou Jitsu said NO NO NO! And he took them and ran. Alternate take on the events of the show, where Splinter is undead and unmutated, and unfortunately does not keep his soul in his body the entire time, leaving his sons grieving and desperate to get him back.
Jasonnie things
Not Part of the Plan – Donnie centric. Despite knowing time travel exists, Donnie is still surprised to find his future self in his lab. But his excitement at the possibilities is swiftly crushed as his future self has an easy time embarrassing him. He hopes he can at least gather some useful information in the process, but he slowly begins to wonder if he even wants answers to all these questions.
You Have to Let Him Go – Donnie centric also sad as hell. I literally just wanted to write about how Donnie's husband hecking dies. Read this if you want to be miserable. (or if you hate Jase I guess ??? alskdjf man got char grilled (I have to make jokes to keep myself from being upset shh))
I'll Put the Knife in Your Hand – Well, now that Donnie heard about his possible future husband, he's determined to at least get to know the guy. Unfortunately his family is far more cautious about this than he seems to be. AKA Four times Donnie's family believes Jase is planning to stab him in the back, and the one time he actually does.
ERR_FILE_NOT_FOUND - Donnie is messing around with his mind machine again, and in the process ends up erasing part of his memory. Specifically the memories about Jase, and Jase is barely handling this well. Good thing Donnie's brothers who totally and absolutely are on good terms with Jase are there to help. Maybe.
Dual Dragons - Collab fic with @there-wolf ! A fic in which our versions of Jason end up encountering each other and even switching universes temporarily, giving them a window into how their life could be different (for better or worse).
#scribs speaks#scribbly fics#long post#rottmnt#rottmnt fanfiction#aw jeez this got long oops#and there will be more#uh oh#just take this for now#the difference in interaction on some of these was getting to me again#but I realize so much stuff can end up under the radar sooo#if you like some of my fics check out some of the others#with more condensed summaries
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