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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 (part two) | neil lewis x reader

read part 1 first!!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | you've been best friends with neil basically your entire life, and secretly in love with him almost as long. now, you have to wonder if it's time to move on... or if that's even possible.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 10k

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | smut, angst, pining/unrequited love - 18+ only

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | hangovers, jealousy/mega angst, smut (finally; unprotected sex, bondage mention, crying during sex/slight dacryphilia) and fluff/emotions

You were draped over the couch limply, groaning as you held a frozen bag of peas to your head— and used it to cover your eyes, because everything was just too fucking bright.

“You look like one of those weed commercials,” Jonathan informed you with a frown. “Like, the one with the deflated girl.”

“Those aren’t commercials for weed, dumbass,” Lucien snarked. “They’re PSAs.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Jonathan shrugged, “I only watch TV when I’m stoned.”

“How are you even alive right now?” you asked Jonathan with a whine. “Like, how are you doing anything more than this? ‘Cause I’m just doing this and I think I’m dying.”

“The secret is not being a lightweight,” Jonathan explained.

“Don’t listen to him,” Neil warned, “his liver’s like a rotten egg. You should be proud to be a lightweight— actually, I’m still not sure why you got so wrecked last night.”

“You’re just jealous you weren’t invited,” Jonathan quipped, and you were too busy keeping your eyes shut to see if Neil actually reacted to that.

“Are you actually planning to do any work today?” Lucien wondered. “Or are you getting paid to lay around complaining?”

“Are you getting paid to be so bitchy?” you shot back. “Just make it my paid sick leave.”

“Sick, yes; paid, yes,” Jonathan noticed, “but you didn’t actually leave.”

“If she wants to spend her sick day here, she can,” Neil decided, “it’s not like she’s contagious.”

“She might be, if she talks you all into coming out again tonight,” Jonathan laughed, but you barely let him finish.

“No fucking way,” you interjected instantly, “I’m never drinking again.”

“But the best cure for a hangover is liquor!” Jonathan insisted.

“That’s the most alcoholic advice I’ve ever heard you give,” Lucien scolded. “Next you’ll say you should drink in the mornings to perk up.”

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Neil decided.

“See!” Jonathan yelped triumphantly.

“No, not booze— kid, you want me to get you a coffee or something?” Neil offered instead. You could tell he’d stepped a little closer from the sound of his voice— and he was speaking a little softer, too. You hesitantly peeled the bag off your head— just partially, that is— and squinted one eye open; thankfully, his head was blocking most of the overhead light as he looked down at you. “There’s that place on the corner, I could just run and get it real quick—”

“I’m okay,” you smiled back, “but thanks.”

“Not even a hot chocolate?”

You already felt warm inside from him saying that, no hot beverage required. You shook your head and he shrugged as he walked away. “Just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” you hummed. You liked this, actually— him taking care of you. It wasn’t the first time of course, you’d gotten sick your fair share of times while knowing him and he’d usually come over and help how he could (which was mostly in the form of takeout soup and entertainment). But now you imagined it a little… cozier: him wrapping you up in a blanket and then in his arms, checking your temperature by putting his hand to your forehead, letting you drift to sleep on him while he read to you or something.

You probably could’ve dozed off as you imagined that little fantasy world, if it weren’t for Neil breaking the silence a minute later. “You know, I was thinking about changing things up a bit,” he said suddenly.

“Please, please, do not try to grow a goatee again,” Lucien begged. As you and Jonathan erupted in a chorus of disgusted agreement, Neil spoke over you all.

“I meant the store!” he promised. “The shelves— and maybe some of the posters, I don’t know.”

“Or you can finally take my idea and start renting porn,” Jonathan offered.

“First of all,” Neil explained, “technically, some of our inventory is considered erotic—”

“No no, not your weirdo French experimental softcore— the good stuff: college babes, horny stepmoms…” Jonathan began to list.

“And second of all,” Neil continued, but Jonathan was still going.

“Norwegian twins coming to America for a foreign exchange program—”

“Norwegian twins?” you repeated with a confused grimace.

“And second of all,” Neil began again, louder and with a scowl on his face, “we don’t have any good way to disinfect the tapes after people return them.”

“That’s a very good point,” Lucien noticed.

Much later in the day— after a few customers had come and gone, and Jonathan had left for the day, and the UPS guy had come by with a delivery of some new (old) movies to add to the store’s inventory— it ended up with you and Neil in his office.

You hadn’t tried to be in the same office at the same time, really… if anything, you were kind of avoiding him at the moment. Not that you could actually avoid your boss while at work in such a small place— even if he wasn’t your best friend— but you’d been dodging the elephant in the room this whole time.

He sat at his desk and leaned back in the chair, putting one foot up against the desk to tilt back even further as he looked through the stack of mail. For a minute, there was just silence, aside from you both just working. Of course, it couldn’t last forever.

“You, uh, told me you were going back to yours last night,” Neil noticed as he sorted through the envelopes— you figured it was a matter of time before he mentioned it, unless he had a serious lapse of memory, but you still winced.

“Yeah, um, sorry, I just—”

“No, it’s fine,” he shrugged, not looking up from the mail, “you didn’t have to take me out with you— I was pretty beat anyways, I just… I’m just not sure why you didn’t tell me?”

“I— I was going home, really,” you explained, “I got there and I couldn’t sleep, and wine always makes me tired but I didn’t have any so—”

“So you did whiskey shots with Jonathan?”

God, you almost thought about saying it, even if it wasn’t true, just to piss him off. Yeah— and we went back to his place and did the horizontal tango. Would you like me to bring you the register?

Instead, you cleared your throat and set down the tapes. “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” you told him; he looked up at you with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look.

“I-I know,” he stammered out, “sorry, I was just… I’m curious, that’s all.”

“Well, maybe what Jonathan and I do is none of your business,” you replied, looking back down at the tapes as you fought down a smirk; you could feel his stare piercing through you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of meeting your gaze. Is that cryptic enough for you? Maybe I should say something about how I don’t kiss and tell.

You almost hoped he’d go in for the kill— make some shitty comment about how you were a slut or how Jonathan was probably thinking about Norwegian twins the whole time— cause if he did, you could yell at him and you’d both get all worked up and maybe at least one of you would finally get out of control enough to say what you were really thinking. Instead, he got sweet again; and that was even worse, because you couldn’t resist it. “Wanna make cookies tonight?” he asked, randomly, softly.

“Yeah,” you smiled, “can we put potato chips in them?”

“You know, kid, I think you’re sort of an evil mastermind,” he grinned.

“Just a creative glutton,” you shrugged.

With the Jonathan thing behind you— if that was even really a thing— things felt back to normal with Neil. Honestly, they might have been even better than they’d been in a while, since he wasn’t with Denise anymore. Denise had never been jealous of you— she was just as confident as you were that you weren’t any kind of threat whatsoever— but she did whine about Neil spending more time with you than her… that is, when she actually wanted to be around Neil, which wasn’t always. Sometimes, she seemed to appreciate you taking him off her hands, giving him an outlet for all the interests she found irritating.

But, anyways, she was gone, and you were giving up on dating (again), and Neil wasn’t being weird and you guys made cookies and it was great. It was easy to remember how you'd survived in this cycle for so long. Because as much as you were probably not the world's best person, you absolutely were not pretending to be Neil's friend because you had a crush— no, he really was the most important person to you, you just also wanted to touch him in all those ways that friends weren't supposed to.

You were almost giddy, high on how good it was to be back to your usual; the night before had been just perfect, like the old times, like high school— in all the best ways.

You'd probably seen him every day for the past two weeks— either at work, at his place or yours— and you had no plans to stop. That was pretty normal for you two anyways. You had the day off from work so you hadn't seen him yet; yes, you had considered stopping by the store anyways since Jonathan came in when he wasn't working, but you'd been too busy with your own errands and catching up on tasks at home.

Figuring it was a matter of time before Neil called you and asked to come over— or just showed up— you gave him a call around nine (knowing the store had just closed) and felt yourself get even just a little more energized when he answered.

"Hey, kid," his voice came from the other end, low and dreamy. He was speaking softly, like it was a secret conversation, and that just made your heart beat a little faster.

“I think I’ve found the perfect movie to go with the last of the leftover cookies,” you grinned. “I was going through my old tapes and— do you remember that weird Italian movie we watched in high school? I think it must’ve been senior year because I remember we watched it while everyone was doing skip day— and we thought it was the funniest thing we’d ever seen— and I found it again! Maybe it’s not as good as I remember, but I’ll bring it over and we can cover up the subtitles and see if we can guess what the hell they’re talking about.”

“Yeah, actually—”

“Oh! Also, is it cool if I crash at yours after? I’ll bring my own pajamas this time— and toothbrush, sorry about having to borrow yours, but—”

“Listen, um,” he coughed, lowering his voice even more, “that sounds great— but I, uh… I sort of have company for the night."

“Oh?” you blurted out, like you’d been punched in the gut— it sure felt like it. “Oh, that’s… anybody I know?”

“No, um, we met today,” he explained. “She, uh, came by the video store and we got to talking.”

Whore. “Let me guess, showing her something from the private collection?” you asked— and you really did mean to refer to his literal DVD shelf, but he let out a sort of salacious chuckle.

“If all goes well,” he replied with a purr.

“R-right, well, sorry for calling—”

“No no, it’s fine,” he promised, “we’ll talk tomorrow?”

Tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow, because I always come back, no matter how bad it hurts. “Yeah,” you breathed. “Good luck.”

“Thanks,” he returned, and you kept holding the phone to your ear long after the click and dial tone.

You knew you had absolutely no right to be jealous. Honestly, you weren’t— well, you definitely were, but that wasn’t why you ran to your bed and sobbed into it. You did that because of the hate you felt— some for Neil, some for little miss I go back to video store owner’s apartments, but plenty leftover for yourself. You had only been through as much as you put yourself through; as much as you allowed to happen. You stayed by his side all these years and let your heart get battered around… it wasn’t always this hard, and you used to be sure that it would be harder to stop being his sidekick. But you couldn’t do this anymore— it was just humiliating, and useless.

You thought about calling Jonathan, but you felt guilty dumping any more weepy girl problems on him. And, you know, that wouldn’t actually fix anything. There was only one way to fix this, but you didn’t think you were strong enough— you knew you weren’t, actually.

It was hard to say why this one hurt so much— it’s not like you thought Neil was a virgin or something, or genuinely expected him to stay chaste after breaking up with Denise— but you suspected it was because you yourself were recognizing how long you’d been stuck in this cycle with him. You remembered crying in your bed just like this when he got his first girlfriend junior year; you realized how little you’d changed since then. How little you’d grown up.

So, no, you weren’t just crying because you were that jealous he was going to have sex with some random woman. But you had to admit that was definitely part of it.

"Hey boss," Jonathan greeted as Neil walked in; you looked down at the tapes on the shelf in front of you, suddenly making yourself look very busy. "How's the walk of shame?"

"I prefer 'stride of pride'," Neil replied.

“So that girl really came over after close?” Lucien realized.

“Yeah, she, uh, wanted to see The Seventh Seal,” Neil explained.

“I’m suuuuure she did,” Jonathan purred, raising his eyebrows repeatedly.

“Girls never wanna watch that,” Lucien assured.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” Neil scoffed, turning to you. “You like it, right, kid?”

“I, um… yeah,” you mumbled— whatever you had to say to end this conversation.

“Well, did she like it?” Lucien wondered.

“Uh, we… we didn’t actually finish it,” Neil admitted, and Lucien laughed as he shoved him on the shoulder.

You glanced at Jonathan, but he was already looking at you— and you hated the pity in his eyes, so you looked away again.

They kept talking, but you couldn’t hear it over the sound of… whatever sound it makes inside your head when you’re trying not to cry at work.

You didn’t do it that same day: it would be too suspicious, and you didn’t want to make a rash decision while you were still so upset. Part of you was still hoping to get through this phase and go back to the ignorant bliss you’d had so recently. But you didn’t, and you could tell that Neil sensed something was wrong— you had been sort of avoiding him for a few days while you tried to decide what to do.

But now, you’d decided. You reached up to knock on his office door— Neil Lewis, P.I. embossed on the frosted glass— but you sighed and dropped your fist, just opening the door instead.

He was so focused on what he was working on that he didn’t look up— and he didn’t even seem to fully process that you had come in, or that you were standing there right in front of him. Obviously he knew you were standing there, but he let you stand there for an awkwardly long time without asking what you wanted.

You appreciated it, though, ‘cause it gave you a while to watch him uninterrupted, wondering if you might never see him so relaxed again.

“Hey, Neil…” you mumbled, and he didn’t look up from his desk. “Um…”

Not sure what else to say, you just handed him the paper. He finally gave you a sliver of his attention to take it, smiling in slight confusion as he looked up at you. “What is this?”

“It’s my two weeks.”

His smile fell. “What?”

Oh, you hated doing this— it broke your heart, seeing that look on his face. “I, uh, I just think it’s better if I—”

“No, wait,” he breathed, standing up, “you— come on, you can’t. It’s— what’s going on?!”

“Nothing,” you insisted as you shook your head, “I just need, uh— nothing’s going on.”

I just need some space, you were gonna say, but you knew that would just open up more questions. “Well, are you gonna work somewhere else?” he asked. “Are you still gonna come by, or will I just see you on movie nights?”

“I— well, I wasn’t sure about movie nights either, actually,” you admitted, and he laughed— but it wasn’t a happy laugh, it was a confused, breathless, almost angry sort of laugh.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” he snapped. “I— you’re my best friend! Did I do something? ‘Cause listen, I wasn’t serious about you offering to date guys who come into the store— I swear I was joking— god, I’m an asshole—”

“No, Neil, it’s not that, that was weeks ago,” you sighed, crossing your arms. “I just… think maybe we’ve been friends so long, you know, and it’s like— why?”

“Why?” he repeated.

“Like, maybe we just think we have to be friends because we’ve always been friends,” you continued, “but maybe we should be like normal people and— and grow apart over time. We were really close in high school because we were the losers that everyone ignored and now… now I think we should just… grow up.”

He looked bewildered— he looked devastated, actually. He shook his head, breathing out a quick sigh, and you weren’t sure if he was even really listening to you but you kept going.

“Sometimes I think I can’t get a boyfriend because guys are weirded out by you— I mean, not like that,” you backtracked slightly. “Well, kind of… but I meant, like, they don’t get that we’re just friends, and they think that you’re just trying to sleep with me—”

“Well, fuck them!” he shouted, a little louder than you would’ve preferred since everyone else was on the other side of that door. “I mean, if they don’t get us, then who fucking cares? They’re idiots, then!”

“Yeah, but—”

“I mean, you think I’d date a girl who didn’t want me to be around you?” he returned. “You shouldn’t be with somebody who thinks like that.”

“Well, that’s easy for you to say, but—”

“But what?”

“But I’m lonely, Neil!” you shouted, immediately reaching to cover your mouth after you said it— mostly to hide your quivering lip. “God,” you choked, lowering your head down to cover your watering eyes instead, “I’m just fucking… tired of being alone, okay?”

“So, what, you’re gonna leave all your friends?” he said, softer. “Because you want a boyfriend? That’s kinda… shallow.”

“What do you expect me to do? Wait around forever?"

"Wait?” he repeated, giving you a confused look. “Wait on what?"

You bit your lip. You couldn't answer that— you couldn't admit that you'd been waiting for him all this time. It's not like he'd asked you to, or expected you to, so you really couldn't be mad at him. You wanted to be, of course, but you couldn't. "I just need to leave, Neil," you whispered, knowing you'd sob harder if you spoke any louder. "I'm sorry. I just need to leave."

You turned, reaching for the door, and his hand suddenly came to your shoulder. His voice was needy and quiet: "You can't go, kid—"

"Don't fucking call me kid!" you spat, shoving him away as you cried harder. "I hate when you call me that!"

I love when you call me that. I hate that I love when you call me that.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, "I didn't know, okay? Whatever I did wrong, I'm sorry. I guess I should let you go, right? Or I'm just making it worse…”

You weren’t sure what you wanted, really. You wanted just as much for him to finally give you the dignity you’d been craving and let you leave, as you did for him to grab you and hold you tight and tell you that you had to stay, that he needed you to stay.

“If you wanna quit, you can quit— no two weeks needed, we’ll be fine,” he promised. “But… are you still gonna come back tomorrow?”

He wasn’t asking about tomorrow— he was asking about every day. Tomorrow, the next day, the next, the next after that: he was asking you to rot your life away on that couch watching weird old movies with him. And in a way, that was all you wanted. That part you really could do forever. But watching him get new girlfriends, get dumped, get over it— that cycle was just going to get worse and, god forbid, you’d have to see him really truly happy with someone else. It just wasn’t fair to anyone anymore.

You didn’t answer his question, you just looked at him again. He looked back at you in disbelief— you hadn’t meant to blindside him like this, but it was the only way to get a semi-clean break. You hadn’t meant to cry either, though, but that was pretty much unavoidable. “You’re really leaving?” he said quietly in sober realization, and you bit your shaking lip as you nodded. He looked around for a moment, as if he’d find answers somewhere in this office, and raised his hands before dropping them defeatedly. “Why?”

You thought about how to answer that for a while— longer than was natural in a conversation. There were a thousand things to say, but only one came out, as quiet as a whisper. “I don’t want to hurt anymore.”

"I never wanted to hurt you," he promised.

"I know," you breathed, finally turning the knob and stepping out.

You tried to act natural, but that was impossible with tears streaming down your face. "What's up?" Jonathan asked, more neutrally than you expected, and you broke: you hid your face and ran towards the door, bolting out of the store and down the street. Just before you stepped out you heard Jonathan ask Neil, "Dude, what did you say to her?!"

"I didn't say anything!" Neil insisted, but you didn't care to stay to hear the rest, you just wanted to be as far away from Gumshoe Video as possible.

When you heard a knock at the door, you paused Casablanca and brushed the used tissues off your coffee table. “Who is it?” you called out, sitting up slightly on the couch.

“Um,” you heard Neil’s voice from the other side, and you groaned as you curled up in a ball, “I was just checking in—”

“Go. Away.” you warned sternly.

“Can’t you just let me in?” he whined, but that’s when he tried the knob, and realized the door was unlocked. You heard the door open and shrunk up tighter into your fetal position as he entered.

“Hey, I, uh,” he began nervously, raising his hands in a wave but then slapping them down on his legs when he didn’t get a response, “I just… wanted to talk to you…”

You didn’t respond, and in the tense silence, he must have glanced at the TV.

“Good choice,” he noticed.

“Did Jonathan tell you?” you asked right away— because that was the worst thing that could happen. Him coming here just because he felt bad, because he found out you loved him, not because he really loved you. The last thing you needed was Neil talking himself into liking you just to keep you from leaving him.

“Tell me what?” Neil said earnestly. You peeked your head out and looked at him, assessing with narrow eyes. “Seriously, what does Jonathan know that I don’t?”

“Nothing, sorry,” you shook your head. “You can, uh… you can say whatever it is you came here to say.”

“Oh, well, I… I kinda didn’t plan that part,” he admitted with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck.

“You said you wanted to talk to me,” you remembered.

“Yeah, but I didn’t really have any steps after that,” he sighed, and you groaned as you hid your face again.

“God, Neil, that is just like you!” you whined.

“Well, sorry! You haven’t been talking to me, I wasn’t sure you’d let me in!” he defended. “What am I supposed to think!”

“You’re supposed to have some kind of… speech, or something!” you explained.

“I can’t believe I’m finally the one saying this,” he said, smirking a bit, “but life isn’t like the movies, kid.”

You showed your face again, and you looked at his, and you couldn’t think of a better word for his expression than just sad. Not a beautiful word, not a very interesting one, but the best way to describe him right then. He looked just as miserable as you felt— and that, weirdly, comforted you a little. You’d wondered if he was just fine without you (not that you really thought he was, with how dramatic he could be). “Why can’t it be?” you asked quietly.

He sighed and sat down on the couch beside you; you moved your feet closer to make room for him. “I don’t know,” he admitted, “I kinda thought our life was a movie— best friends, running a small business, getting into shenanigans…”

“Shenanigans?” you repeated incredulously.

“Well, you know, something like that,” he replied.

“It was like a movie, kind of, for a while,” you agreed. A sad movie about a stupid lonely girl.

“I just always thought—” he began, but you tightened your jaw and interrupted him.

“What was the plan, huh? What did you really expect to happen?” you snapped. “That we could just… do this, forever?”

“Yeah, basically!” he shouted back. “Why not?”

“Why not?!” you repeated. “Neil, didn’t you think I’d ever find somebody? Did you think I could fall asleep on your fucking couch with a husband and baby at home?”

“I— I don’t know,” he admitted, losing some of his nerve as he seemed to watch his own logic fall apart. “I just figured you wouldn’t be with anybody who didn’t, you know, understand us!”

“I don’t understand us anymore!” you whined, setting your legs back down on the floor so you could face him better. “It’s like— it’s just like it was in high school! You know, I could’ve been popular if it wasn’t for you!”

“Yeah, if it wasn’t for me, and that pesky ‘who you really are’ thing!” he scoffed. “Is that what you wanted, to be fake like everyone else?”

“No,” you admitted, “but I’m saying it’s the same thing— I could have a real life, you know, if you weren’t always around!”

“Well, Jesus, I’m sorry for ruining your boring, normal life with my weirdness,” he offered sarcastically. “See, this whole time, I thought you were cool, but I guess you’re just a poser!”

“Oh my god,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands, “that’s your dig? Poser? Are you fucking fourteen?!”

“I’d rather be a little immature than be fake,” he decided, crossing his arms proudly.

“Okay, well I’d rather be fake than be alone,” you replied, anger melting away into sadness once again; you bit your shaking lip and looked away.

“You shouldn’t have to choose,” he sighed, leaning in a bit closer to you. “Of course I figured you’d find somebody, someday— somebody who really appreciates you, you know? Somebody cool. And he and I could be friends, too— I always figured he’d have a really cool name like… I don’t know, like Augustus or Rutherford or something.”

“Rutherford?” you repeated with a small grimace.

“That’s not the point— I just mean that he’d be kinda pretentious but, like, fun. And rich. And you could invite me over to swim in your pool and play croquet and stuff.”

You laughed a little, then sniffled. Of course that’s what he thought rich people did.

“And you’d have kids, and they’d call me Uncle Neil,” he continued, “and I’d get them on the really cool stuff, you know— none of that Disney Channel crap, they’d be watching indie flicks and German expressionism before they even hit high school; gotta start ‘em early.”

“But what about you?” you asked. “Where do you end up?”

“I… I don’t know,” he shrugged. “I guess I just figured I’d always be here.”

You found yourself moving in a little closer— close enough that you had to look up at him slightly even while just sitting on the couch. “So you really never thought about it?” you pressed, biting your lip, and you clarified even though it kind of seemed like he knew what you meant. “Us, together?”

“God, are you kidding?” he snorted. “Of course I thought about it, I mean… yeah, I thought about it…”

His voice changed a little the second time he said it, and your heartbeat sped up just a bit.

“But every time I thought about it, I just got so— I don’t know— scared, I guess,” he said quietly.

“Scared?” you repeated.

“‘Cause, you know… it’s me and you,” he explained, smiling a little. “It’s us. And I figured that if you and I got together… that would be, you know… that would be it.”

As you looked at him, you wondered if he could see everything in your eyes right then.

“And what if I wasn’t good enough for you, right? What if I fucked this up, like I fuck up everything, and then we’re not even friends?” he sighed, shaking his head. “And then— and then what am I supposed to do? Just, like, not have you in my life?”

You opened your mouth to promise him that he’d always be in your life, that you could never really go on without him— even if you’d just threatened that and stormed out of the video store— but instead, only a wistful sigh came out.

“C’mon— I don’t even know who I am without you, kid,” he laughed, and your heart jumped.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, “but what if you don’t fuck it up? What if we’re perfect together, and happy, and it just makes sense?”

“Then that’s even worse!” he announced with a grin, and you laughed.

“What?” you giggled, letting him pull you a little closer.

“Then we get together, and you move in, and we get married and have a bunch of babies— and then that’s it! Me and you, heading towards oblivion,” he described, pointing forward with his hand like it was a straight path to the end, “being, you know… grown-ups.”

You dropped your forehead onto his shoulder, laughing in exasperation.

“I know it’s stupid,” he admitted, “but that’s… that’s what scared me, I think. And I guess I just liked how things were so much— well, that’s not totally true. There were days where I thought I really couldn’t take it anymore, that I just had to be with you, but…”

“But you’re kind of a pussy?” you finished for him, and he laughed as his arm wrapped around you.

“Yeah,” he agreed, “very much so, actually.”

You looked up at him, and the way he looked back at you was painfully perfect. And now that you saw it, you realized it wasn’t new— he’d looked at you like this before, when he woke you up on the store couch in the morning or when you made fun of him in front of everybody or when you helped him pick what to wear for a party. How come you hadn’t seen it before?

It seemed like you’d been scared, too. You could’ve just told him then, you could’ve just kissed him— but maybe you were both a little too afraid to rock the boat. “I mean, your little future plan sounds nice, but…” you hummed, “I don’t want Rutherford.”

“Don’t rule out Augustus,” he warned, tilting his head and pointing his finger at you, and you laughed softly.

“I want you, Neil,” you breathed, feeling so many emotions at once as you finally said what you’d been terrified to admit for the better part of a decade.

He took a deep breath, too— like he’d been waiting a long time to hear that. “I want you too, kid,” he admitted. You could’ve asked him to stop calling you that now, but since it made your knees a little weak (thank god you were sitting down already), you let it slide for now.

“Okay, well,” you decided, scooting closer to him on the couch again, “let’s agree on something.”

“Okay,” he whispered.

“Let’s get together,” you said, trying to keep your nerve, “and I’ll move in, and we’ll get married and have a bunch of babies— but we’ll never grow up.”

He laughed a little, finally seeming a bit nervous, and reached up to touch your face: his knuckles rested on your cheek while his thumb pet your temple gently. “Okay,” he said again.

Your heart raced as he moved in a little closer, turning himself towards you on the couch, and your eyes moved back and forth from his eyes to his lips to his eyes to his lips— he’s gonna kiss me.

Just when you were about to shut your eyes and let it happen, he pulled back slightly. “Sorry,” he laughed nervously, “I— sorry. Been thinking about this since I was seven, it’s a lot of pressure.”

Your heart warmed to hear him admit that. “All these years and you never thought to just man up and kiss me?”

“I did kiss you!” he defended.

“New Year’s doesn’t count,” you scoffed.

“Good,” he sighed, “because then there’s still a chance for our first kiss to be perfect.”

“Like the movies?” you asked hopefully.

“Yeah,” he agreed softly, holding your chin and tilting it back gently. “Like the movies.”

It did feel like a movie; you could’ve sworn you heard dramatic background music alongside the pounding in your ears. You took a deep breath in through your nose as you kissed him back, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him closer. There was no point in acting coy now, he knew the truth— and you were totally helpless, this was all you’d been imagining for years and it was real: in that way, it was so much better than a movie.

His hands found your back and pulled you into him, until you hopped up and straddled his lap— holding his face, running your fingers through his hair, kissing him as desperately as you could get away with.

He certainly didn’t seem to mind, in fact he just held you tighter and kissed you harder and even pulled your hips down into his lap where you gasped at the feeling of a firm bulge in his jeans. “You’re already hard?” you noticed, pulling back just enough to speak, and he laughed breathlessly.

“Jesus, you’re already making fun of me,” he coughed.

“I’m not! Sorry,” you laughed, “I just— we only started kissing a minute ago—”

“Yeah, but— come on, kid, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed, “and you can’t pull me towards you with my shirt like that without expecting a reaction…”

“I really wasn’t trying to get you worked up,” you cooed, “I just need you that bad.”

“Fuck,” he laughed, running his hands up your back, “you can’t say stuff like that either…”

“I can’t?” you pressed with a smirk as you ran your hands over his chest through the t-shirt. “Or what?”

“Orrr I’m not gonna have very much patience,” he explained with a grin, “and I’ll just have to make love to you on this couch right now.”

“Oh, make love,” you repeated, shimmying your shoulders a bit, “you don’t have to be so formal, Neil. You can just fuck me.”

He growled and grabbed you tight, throwing you down on the couch as you beamed and he descended upon you.

You tugged at each other’s clothes hungrily: you had on some baggy old shirt that he tossed aside quickly, he was wearing band merch that he barely stopped kissing you long enough to let you get over his head. You’d seen him shirtless all the time when you went to the beach together or he just changed shirts in front of you (‘cause guys can just do that, your sanity be damned), you’d even felt him shirtless before due to playful wrestling in the pool, but wow it felt different to have his bare torso pressed against you, and you loved it already.

You know what else felt different? Neil staring down, mouth slightly open as he panted, at your tits. You almost felt self-conscious until he grabbed your waist and latching his mouth onto one needily.

“Fuck,” you groaned, gasping as the tip of his tongue flicked over the bud of your nipple. His hand squeezed the other one with just the right amount of roughness— his hands were big, and hot, and you’d put quite a lot of consideration into how they’d feel running over your skin. They were lovely, as were his fingers pinching lightly at your nipple until you squirmed. “Neil, c’mon—” you started to beg.

“Hold on,” he groaned against your skin, hot breaths tickling where his spit wet your breast, “been waiting a while to do this. Wanna savor it.”

Well, he could savor all he wanted, but you had been waiting too long to have any patience left; you reached down and got his belt open with a little finagling, pushing his jeans down his legs with your feet. His boxers, annoyingly, stayed up, but he smiled at you and started to pull your shorts down, too.

So there you were, laying together on your sofa— him on top of you, you staring up at him in amazement— both in just your underwear. And socks, technically, but you weren’t really worrying about those at the moment.

“Are we gonna do this like they do in the movies, too?” you asked with a breathless laugh.

“They don’t show this part in the movies,” he replied quickly.

“Not those movies…”

He got your drift and grinned a little, but shook his head. “No, not like that. I want this to be, you know, special…”

“Neil, I’ve been in love with you since I was twelve. It’s gonna be special no matter what,” you promised, holding his face for emphasis. “Doesn’t mean it can’t be, you know, kinky.”

He raised an eyebrow in intrigue. “Kinky?” he repeated. “Would you mind clarifying that for me?”

You bit your lip and looked away shyly. “Well, you know, I’ve thought about, like… like maybe how it would be if you tied me to the bed…”

He grinned. “Alright,” he replied expectantly, waiting for the list to go on.

“Or if you bent me over your desk at the store,” you added, heart racing with nervousness to admit that fantasy, “and had to cover my mouth to keep me quiet…”

“Fuck,” he groaned in agreement. “What else?”

“O-or, you know, that thing where you just keep someone inside you for hours,” you breathed, “and don’t even move, just keep it, you know, warm— we could watch a movie like that—”

“Jesus, kid,” he sighed, “you, um, you really thought this through…”

“Yeah…” you admitted, moaning softly and holding tighter onto his back as he leaned down and kissed your neck.

“I had no idea you were so dirty,” he laughed against your skin. “Whatever movie we watch like that, it better be shit ‘cause I have no chance of paying any attention.”

“W-well, you said you thought about it too,” you remembered. “What did you think this would be like?”

“I didn’t think about that, I’m too romantic,” he denied proudly as he hovered above you again, “I just thought about, you know, taking you on dates and buying you flowers and stuff.”

“O-oh,” you choked, embarrassed.

“Just kidding,” he winked, “I’m not a saint. I thought about how you’d look riding me.”

You giggled slightly, glancing away as you were forced to imagine that, too.

“And how these lips would look,” he continued, softening his voice and running his thumb over your slack bottom lip, “wrapped around my cock—”

“Fuck,” you whispered, nearly overwhelmed by the look in his eyes. “I thought about that too…”

He growled and kissed you hard, reaching down to roughly tug your panties lower. “God, I wish I had the patience for that now,” he mumbled, “but I just need to be inside you—”

“Okay,” you agreed happily, pressing yourself against him as you hugged him closer.

Sliding your hands down his back, you pushed his boxers down his hips and gasped when his cock sprung out and brushed over your inner thigh.

You reached down and grabbed a hold of him— mostly so you’d have a chance to get some idea of what he was about to put in you— and you both gasped for different reasons. You couldn’t speak for him, really, but for you it was a sound of disbelief at how big he was. Not, you know, concerningly massive or anything— you were thankful for that, in fact— but thick and long and curved and oh look you were already guiding that fat tip to your opening because you couldn’t wait anymore.

Clearly he was struggling with a similar impatience because as soon as he felt your entrance he shoved his hips forward and pushed inside— finding some resistance, just from his size, but then you went limp under him and just let it happen.

You were both breathing heavy like you’d run a mile, when you’d barely moved at all; he was only halfway in, and you already felt so full…

“Fuck,” he moaned at the feeling, “you’re so wet, fuck—”

But then he pushed in the rest of the way and you winced just from the intensity of it— it didn’t hurt, really, but it was… a lot. In every sense of the word. "Oh my god," you gasped, holding on tightly to his arms.

He moaned louder, dropping his head into the crook of your neck; he put a hand on the top of your head to keep you steady (and close) as he pumped into you a bit faster already. “You’re so fucking wet,” he said again— it would’ve made you self-conscious that he focused on that so much if it wasn’t obvious that it was driving him wild. But you couldn’t really justify pointing out his sudden boner before when you were soaked like this, could you?

Fortunately, it seemed like he had long since forgotten about that…

It seemed like he never looked away from you, hardly ever even shut his eyes— he just watched your face, with a few detours to look at the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

The pace was steady and simple, there were no fancy moves or dirty fantasies: he just kissed you sometimes, and watched you the rest of the time. You didn’t say much until you started to feel the pressure building in your gut— up until that point, nothing needed to be said— but the way he was making you feel suddenly compelled you to start running your mouth.

“So good,” you blurted out, and he groaned a little in agreement. “You feel so good, Neil…”

“Yeah?” he confirmed. “Feels like we were made for each other.”

That was not only the most perfect thing you’d ever heard, but undeniably true: the curve of his cock seemed to fit right inside you; he was just big enough to push to the end of you without making your stomach hurt; every movement stretched your walls exactly how you’d craved for longer than you wanted to remember; and you were soaking him, and probably yourself, it was like you just couldn’t stop. Every movement made you feel more insatiable and yet more perfectly satisfied— it was impossible, but it was happening. That’s how it felt: impossibly good.

“Doesn’t it?” he asked, like he was worried you didn’t agree, but you only hadn’t said anything because you knew how loud you would be if you opened your mouth.

“Yes!” you cried out, dropping your head back— see, that’s exactly what you were worried would happen, but he just growled and fucked you deeper. “Yes, fuck yes, Neil—”

“Uh huh?” he encouraged you gruffly, holding you a little tighter, watching you with darker eyes.

“Yes, oh my god,” you choked out, whining and digging your nails into his back sort of unintentionally. “S-so deep…”

“Yeah,” he agreed, “and you take it so good— you feel so fuckin’ perfect, kid…”

Wow, yeah, you really should’ve hated being called that in a moment like this, but you enjoyed it a little too much. "Fuck, m'gonna—" you began your warning.

"Come," he finished for you— no, it was a demand. "I want you to. I wanna see it."

"O-okay," you breathed, "just don't… don't stop…"

He shook his head, fucking you a little faster as he panted. "Not gonna stop," he promised, "not until you're so fucking full—"

"God, Neil," you whined, the pressure in your gut building more and more, making your legs tighten around his hips.

"Until I've given you every drop of come," he continued with a grunt, "and it's fucking dripping out of you—"

"Fuck."

"For days—"

"Fuck—"

"Tomorrow at work—" he mentioned specifically, and your back arched as it hit you; jolts of energy crawled up and down your back, your walls clenching rhythmically around him.

You definitely said something but you were too fucked out to keep track of it. How was it your job to know what you said?! It was something with oh my god and Neil somewhere in there for sure, but that was all you knew. He didn’t even slow down, by the way, just keeping his pace and mumbling praises to you with a rough voice.

As the raw pleasure faded, you found a new feeling swelling within you— a sudden mix of all sorts of emotion, growing faster than you could fight it off. You’d never felt like this, at least in this specific way, but you knew all too well what was coming: you were about to cry.

You weren’t sad, you were anything but sad, but apparently there were just too many pent up feelings and recently-released hormones coursing through you for you to do anything but cry. It happened so suddenly that you couldn’t even think about how you should handle it— if you should warn him or suddenly get up and run away so he wouldn’t see you like that. You were terrified he would be confused and overwhelmed by it, but you were out of options; you bit your lip as it started to shake, tightening your hold on one of his shoulders, and sniffled involuntarily as tears welled in your eyes.

“Oh god, baby, are you okay?” he breathed, his movements coming to a halt, and you nodded your head feverishly.

“I’m okay,” you whimpered, “I’m fine— I’m really good, I’m just—”

He sat up and pulled you up with him, sort of perching you in his lap, and you looked away as you tried to will yourself to stop crying but failed miserably. “Do you want me to stop?” he asked softly.

You shook your head, hugging him so he wouldn’t see your wet face. “N-no, don’t—”

“What’s going on?” he asked, smiling a little even as his voice was heavy with concern; he kissed the side of your head as he pet your hair gently.

“I’m just— m’just really happy,” you breathed shakily. “I just can’t believe this is happening— in a good way.”

He beamed and pulled back to look at your face, holding your cheeks and wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “Yeah,” he agreed, “I know— that’s how it feels for me, too.”

You choked on another sob, and he soothed you softly, holding you a little closer. “Don’t stop, please,” you whispered, “you said you wouldn’t—”

“Yeah, but I gotta make sure you’re okay,” he laughed.

“I am, really,” you insisted, with a sniffle, “it’s happy tears, I promise. Y-you can keep going, unless all the crying is turning you off…”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” he promised with a little laugh, leaning down to look into your eyes when you tried to glance down, “hey— it’s sweet, okay? And I always thought you were kinda cute when you cried— um, not in a creepy way, but, y’know, like… when we watched sad movies and stuff, and you would hide your face in my shirt—”

You whimpered and shoved your face into the crook of his neck.

“Kinda like that…” he mumbled, rubbing your back as he laid you back down on the couch. “Hey, shh, it’s okay… m’gonna move again, alright?”

You only nodded a little, holding onto him tightly, still crying but managing to get a moan out when he carefully thrusted into you again. He found his pace again, though slower and gentler than before, and lifted himself partially to hover above you. Pushing away some hair that had clung to your face, sticky with sweat and tears, he smiled down at you.

“Hey,” he whispered, “look up at me…”

Afraid to face him like this, you hesitated but blinked quickly as you looked back at him.

“You look beautiful,” he promised quietly. “This is how it was supposed to be, okay? This is how it always should’ve been.”

You nodded in agreement, starting to cry a little harder— though it was pure joy, there was no other way to describe it.

“And this is how it’s gonna be now,” he assured, “you and me.”

“Yeah,” you whispered under your breath, reaching up to run your fingers through his hair. He kissed you again softly, and the rest of it was like that: more gentle and patient, shockingly tender, until you two were just melting into each other and you shamelessly gave into every emotion and sensation he guided you through.

Today, the store was running a special on cop movies— so you and Neil were, obviously, dressed appropriately in fake uniforms he got on clearance at the costume shop. Was yours technically a reconstituted ‘sexy cop’ with fishnets and a tight latex skirt? Yes, but you at least ditched the fuzzy handcuffs…

You were sitting on the front counter, swinging your legs and watching Neil as he roamed the store, your eyes lingering on the way those navy blue pants did his ass more than a few favors… the whole outfit was working for you, shockingly. The badge, the aviator shades— you were even beginning to see the appeal of the fake mustache.

He seemed to notice you looking, and he smirked at you proudly as he set down the tape he’d been holding.

“Hey,” Neil purred, taking off his sunglasses somewhat dramatically— he sauntered up to you, putting his hands on the counter on either side of your legs. He had that sparkle in his eye as he looked you up and down, and you bit your lip.

“Hey,” you returned, reaching up to drape your arms over his shoulders.

“You look cute,” he hummed at you proudly. “Who picked out this outfit for you?”

“Oh, that would be my super weird boss,” you smirked, your fingers tracing the neckline of Neil’s semi-unbuttoned uniform shirt and the slightest hint of chest hair peeking out from it. “He makes me dress up to promote our specials.”

“He’s probably got a crush on you,” Neil suggested with a grin.

“You think so?” you cooed as you leaned down, kissing him with a smile still on your lips— but you made a little face and pulled back. “The mustache feels weird…”

“Mm, but you’re still gonna kiss me, right?” he assumed proudly— he knew damn well you found him totally irresistible.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a giggle as you kissed him again: deeper, and longer, but still slow and sweet.

The front door jingled as Jonathan walked in. “Woah, hey, workplace!” he groaned, covering his eyes for a minute, and you laughed as you broke away from the kiss, shoving Neil aside and hopping off the counter. “How are our resident lovebirds doing?”

“Horny,” Lucien answered in a thoroughly unamused tone.

“Well, why don’t you let us take over for a couple hours?” Jonathan suggested with a shrug. “Me and Luc can manage and you two can, you know, take a long lunch and shake each other down.”

“What? No,” you grimaced, shuddering at the idea of Jonathan and Lucien waiting for you two here and knowing exactly what you were doing a few blocks down at Neil’s apartment.

“Alright,” Neil agreed at the same time, but quickly changed his answer to a rushed “n-no, yeah, definitely not.”

Lucien smirked and Jonathan shook his head. "Suit yourselves," he replied as he walked away.

You planned to walk away, too, and finally get back to work, but Neil wrapped an arm around you and pulled you into him. You smiled and hugged him back, leaning your head against his chest with a satisfied sigh.

When he let you go, you lingered for just a moment longer before finding the strength to pull away and get back to work— yet again, he stopped you, this time by touching your face to turn it back to him and softly mumbling ‘hey’.

“What is it?” you asked quietly as you looked up at him expectantly.

“I love you, kid,” he said gently, petting your cheek for a second.

“Wh-what way do you mean that?” you wondered, and he furrowed his brows with a smile. “Like— we used to say that sometimes,” you went on, awkwardly stammering as you looked down again, “but, you know… we never meant it like that—”

He interrupted you with a soft whisper of your name, getting your attention once more, tilting your head until your gaze met his. “I only ever meant it one way,” he admitted. “That way.”

one year later…

You wandered through the crowded video store, doing lots of waving and greeting and patting of shoulders— thanking everyone for coming out to celebrate with you.

A gaggle of women suddenly descended on you with giddy delight, and you took turns hugging them and repeating your practiced line about how you were so glad they could make it.

“You look great,” Helen informed you, and you dismissed it with a wave of your hand. “No, really, it’s so cute! You look good in white.”

“You think so? I was worried it would be weird,” you admitted as you looked down at the silk cocktail dress.

“No, it makes perfect sense,” Priyanka said, “and it’s so cool! Is it real vintage?”

“Yeah, you know how we are,” you shrugged and laughed.

“Well, let’s see the ring!” Helen insisted with a squeal, and all three women yelped happily when you brandished your left hand for them to get a good look at it.

“Oh my god, it’s gorgeous!” Georgia gasped.

“Thank you,” you beamed, “I can’t imagine where Neil got the money for it— god knows it wasn’t here, I’ve seen our margins!”

The ladies all seemed to grab your hand at once and yank it closer, tilting your finger to watch the stones sparkle in the light. As they fawned over it, you looked over and found Neil watching you, beer in hand, looking totally smitten. You waved with your free hand and got a small wave back, making you smile even wider.

You split away from the girls after a while, soon stopped by one of Neil’s only friends who actually had this whole adult thing mostly figured out: Marcia, though her husband and baby were across the store meeting the many, many guests who wanted a chance to hold the precious thing.

“I always knew he loved you,” Marcia insisted as she winked at you. “I’m so glad he finally figured it out.”

“Yeah, me too,” you agreed with a laugh. “It’s been great— like, really great. All the fun we had before, but—”

“But you get to have him all to yourself?” she assumed with a grin.

“Well, sure,” you admitted, “but not just that. He’s changed a lot, you know. He’s still the same Neil I always loved but…”

You trailed off, but she nodded like she understood. “But he’s grown up,” she finished for you.

“We got together on the condition that we wouldn’t grow up,” you explained, “that we wouldn’t change and get, you know, boring.”

Marcia rolled her eyes, making you feel much younger than her than you were. “That’s what you figure out eventually,” she replied, “that growing up is a lot more fun when you’re growing together.”

Her unexpectedly sage advice was still in your head almost an hour later, when you and Neil reunited at the back of the room.

“You ready?” he asked you softly, and you nodded with a smile.

“Been ready for this for a long time,” you replied.

Neil got the crowd’s attention, motioning for the guests to gather in a vague semi-circle facing you and him; you squeezed his hand, feeling your heartbeat pick up just a bit.

“We just wanted to thank you all for coming,” Neil explained, “I mean, it’s so special to have everyone we love gathered in our favorite place…”

You looked out at the crowd filling the store and noticed that, all together, it was a lot more loved ones than you realized you had.

“And with that in mind, we do have a little announcement,” he continued with a beaming smile.

“Pregnant!” Lucien blurted out, and you glared at him as a fellow guest slapped him on the arm.

“Not that,” Neil laughed, “maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way but, uh, anyways…”

“This isn’t just our engagement party,” you admitted with a grin, “it’s our wedding!”

You pulled the mini-veil out from where you’d hidden it in a fake VHS clamshell and quickly clipped it on, the crowd clapping and gasping, and you motioned for Jonathan to come forward to do the honors.

“The bride and groom have prepared special, joint vows,” Jonathan explained as he stepped up beside you both, pulling notecards out of his pocket. You and Neil faced each other, holding your hands together between you; he even swung your hands a little as he smiled at you, and you laughed softly. “Do you take each other in marriage, for life, no takebacksies?”

“We do,” you both replied.

“Do you swear to tell the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” he asked, and you gave him a confused look. “Sorry— wrong line. Watching too much Law & Order…”

Your spectating friends and family chuckled, though some seemed nervous with Jonathan making a joke like that during your literal wedding ceremony— but you thought it was perfect. You wouldn’t have asked Jonathan to officiate if you didn’t want some ill-timed, goofy joke.

“Do you promise to keep each other close in body and spirit, to share your joy and pain, and to face every day together as best friends and life partners?”

“We do.”

“And do you swear,” Jonathan went on, suddenly getting very serious and lowering his voice, “to always, without fail… be kind and rewind?”

The crowd chuckled, and you and Neil agreed enthusiastically: “We do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by a very shady website that I think might have been some kind of minister license scam out of Estonia… I now pronounce you husband and wife,” Jonathan beamed, throwing his notecards in the air triumphantly. “Now kiss each other, ya idiots!”

It was one of those wedding kisses that went on a little too long, a few whistles and whoops from the crowd alerting you that it might be too steamy for such a public moment— but damn, was it perfect. As much as you just wanted to grab onto your husband and never let go, both of you were instantly swarmed by loved ones wanting hugs and to offer their congratulations. You obviously obliged, thanking everyone you could for being a part of this impromptu ceremony… and basking in the joy when most of them said something about how they always expected this or couldn’t believe it took so long.

“Congrats, man,” Jonathan mumbled to Neil as he grabbed him by the shoulder. “I think this is the part where she fucks me and kills Lucien.”

“Shut up,” Neil scoffed as he shoved Jonathan away, but he couldn’t stop smiling— and he couldn’t stop staring at you. Here's looking at you, kid.

#neil lewis x reader #neil lewis smut #watching the detectives #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut

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thedevilspearl · 1 year

Text

awkward moments during sex — younger bros

a/n: a continuation of funny and awkward moments that happen during sex with the brothers, but this time with the younger brothers (older brothers here).

tags: 2.5k words. female reader x satan (edging, orgasm control), asmodeus (no warnings), beelzebub (manhandling, breeding kink, mating press, minor injury) + belphegor (mild somnophillia). minors do not interact!

𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐀𝐍

your fingers slip nimbly through his blonde hair, gliding through the strands as if they’re made of the finest of silks. satan leaves an entourage of nips and bruises along your neckline, each of them planted with more desperation than the last.

his hips roll against yours; not fast enough, and not slow enough. and yet, he seems to find the perfect combination of pace and rhythm which drives you crazy.

it keeps you in limbo, with hope on one side and despair on the other. a purgatory of sorts.

he loves to torment you like this; his teething grin tells you that. and with his head buried in the nook of your shoulder, he peeps up only to appreciate the overwrought look on your face. your brows furrow in such a way that he doesn’t know if you’re about to cry, or if you’re about to cum.

you suppose that’s why he loves it so much — satan has always been fond of a good mystery, always wanting to discover what comes next in earnest. he’s enthusiastic to say the least.

his rutting hips grow a little more fervent, earning a most dulcet moan from your lips. he captures it in his own, swallowing it whole and locking it away deep in the ravenous hollows of his body. you fill him up in ways he never expected, and he can’t get enough of you.

“satan,” you whimper, evoking a sadistic smirk on his face. “please…”

“please what, my dear?”

the endearment in his voice alone is enough to make your guts feel like they’re being rearranged — though, his cock is doing a perfectly fine job of that already.

“i wanna cum!”

every one of your senses tosses you back and forth over a very thin line. one second, you’re free to fall into a sea of bliss, ready to be washed away by the intensity of the orgasms he brings upon your body. and the next, you’re tied up in the confines of satan’s control. he decides when you finish, not the other way around.

the nerves in your body are working overtime, analysing each second and anticipating whether or not he will give you what you so desperately desire. your brain is moments away from turning numb from the overload of feelings, both physical and emotional.

so much that the creaks of satan’s old, wooden bed go unregistered.

he thrusts harder, faster with the promise that he’ll soon be done with you, and you can finally succumb to the ecstasy you’ve been reaching for.

“satan!” you squeal, locking your trembling legs around his hips. “i’m close!”

“me too, baby,” he grunts with each rut and grabs your cheeks, making sure of the eye contact between you. “we’re almost there.”

he makes a point of driving his cock to the hilt of your pussy, and his strength passes straight through your body into the foundations of his bed. all it takes is one more thrust to break apart the timbers of the worn out wood.

the mattress beneath you softens your land as the bed collapses, but the impact from satan’s body falling on top off you knocks the air out of your lungs. his limbs dig into you and you groan.

“shit,” he mutters, and his hands fly to your face, inspecting your pained expression. “are you okay?”

“not really,” satan rises with you, arms delicately holding your frame until you’re sat upright on the wreck of what was once his bed. “are you?”

“yes,” he chuckles, leaning his head against you before planting a kiss on your cheek. “because the sex was literally bed–breaking. and no, because lucifer is going to have a lot to say about this.”

𝐀𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐔𝐒

asmo has tonnes of attention and he loves to give it away freely, just as much as he loves to receive it. you’re special, though. he makes a point of that every time your insecurities begin niggle away at you.

whenever he feels you drawing away, he’ll pull you closer than ever before, never letting you out of his sight. with all the fame and love, most people tend to forget how lonely a person can become. and that’s why he chose you.

you took that loneliness from deep inside and destroyed it in the palm of your hand. you filled all the void parts of his body and soul with your existence alone; no one thinks about the demons a demon can have, and all it took was one smile from you to scare them all away.

you helped him in more ways than one, so he never wants you to feel alone or inferior — you’ll always be his number one despite his fans and fame and ego.

he must say, though, he is quite proud of how far you’ve come. asmo had immediately picked up on those small traits of yours, the ones that signal you spiralling into the pool of your greatest fears. the nervous fidgeting whenever he spoke to other demons at school, the daylight dazing out when you find yourself lost in thoughts, and the sudden silence when he’s livestreaming to his fans, like right now.

asmo was fully prepared to pepper you with praises and kisses as soon as he finished — he’s more than willing to give you attention. but the fact is, you stole it already, along with his breath.

he freezes for a second before licking his lips and glancing back and forth between your teasing and his screen. he mumbles and stutters whilst trying to hide his growing erection from his fans. meanwhile, you sway your hips seductively behind the camera, slipping the silk gown from your shoulders to reveal your naked body.

“today was really fun, my darlings,” he waves and blows a kiss to the screen immediately. “i’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

he taps his screen rapidly before jumping on you, grabbing your ass and lifting you. your lips intertwine in seconds and he drops you onto the mattress with out breaking contact.

“someone’s feeling bold,” he teases between kisses. “i like it.”

“mmh, i figured i should be more forward with my needs,” you say with a daring smile. “i think it seems to be working, don’t you?”

“oh, it’s working,” asmo expertly removes his clothing, and occupies himself in the meantime by kissing up and down your body, burning patterns into your skin until he meets your lips again.

“asmo… hurry.” you whine and he heeds your words, aligning himself with your soaked entrance.

“i love you, my darling,” he feeds you one last kiss before pushing in, and the two of you groan in unison. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, asmo.”

you gasp loudly as his cock stretches your walls, and your clench around his length as if he was made perfectly for you to take. you’re seconds away from screaming his name when—

knock, knock, knock.

you freeze and the knocking is followed by lucifer’s commanding voice.

“asmodeus, you might want to end your livestream before continuing with your… activities.”

“what?!”

scrambling, you gather the blanket against your chest, tucking your legs underneath to hide your nude body. this can’t be happening…

“oh, my,” asmo tuts. “it looks like i pressed the wrong button.”

he makes his way back to his ddd set up on his desk, dragging a blanket to cover himself from the hips down. you expect him to turn it off immediately, but instead he starts reading the flying comments that you’re too embarrassed to even think about.

“hhm, everyone seems to be enjoying it,” he looks to you with a seductively intriguing glint in his eyes. “what do you say, honey? why don’t we give them a show?”

𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐋𝐙𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐁

“oh my goodness, beel!”

juices flow from your pussy and his mouth finally parts with it after bringing you to your umpteenth orgasm. your mind is foggy from the highs and beel rises, hands roaming your body and placing you exactly how he sees fit.

the back of your knees rest against his arms and his hands sneak under your body, locking you in place. he has you folded in half, literally. his feet are planted flat in the mattress and his immense weight pushes you down further.

you haven’t fucked in this position before, but you have a feeling beel is going to destroy your needy cunt. you take a liking to this inner beast controlling him right now; he must be so hungry…

his lips are coated with your essence, the one that works like a spell, entrancing him in such a state that he can only think about how much he needs you.

this is going to be good.

the tip of his enormous cock prods at your entrance and eagerly pushes in. hissing from his girth stretching you out, you wonder if it’s possible that you’ll ever get used to beel splitting you open on his cock.

“ngh,” you groan gutturally, unable to form a decipherable sentence. “s–so big!”

“i’m gonna fill you up, baby,” he growls and pushes in deeper. “gonna fill you with my cum.”

he slams into you, and an unbridled yelp escapes you before he raises his hips, only to slam them back down again. each of his thrusts rattle the entire bedframe and you’re afraid the brother next door might storm in with noise complaints.

a cacophony of sinful sounds fill the room — beel’s animalistic growls, your wanton moans, the obscenely lewd noises coming from your bodies, and of course, the shaking of everything around you.

he’s fucking you so hard it might cause an earthquake.

the mattress bounces along with both of your bodies, fucking like animals in heat. his cock drags in and out of your pussy and you’re losing count of all the orgasms he’s forcing you to endure. you’re extremely sensitive from him eating you out for hours and you don’t know how long it will take for beel to feel some sort of satiation.

being both starved and gluttonous is a dangerous combination, and this version of beel is a prime example of that. he pushes your thighs down further, allowing himself to explore deeper and you feel another orgasm creeping on you.

and it’s only a matter of time before beel finishes too, and he’s going to fill you to the brim with his cum before using it to fuck you some more, pushing his seed deep inside you. you can’t wait for the day he finally breeds you.

“fuck, beel!” you screech, not caring how ridiculously desperate you sound. “come on, stuff me full with your cum! want you to knock me up!”

“gonna fill you up,” he grunts with every thrust. “i’ll fill you with my—”

“aah, i’m so tired… wait, what’s going on here?”

before you can look in the direction of the door, beel literally flips you over and flings your body to the side, unknowingly using his full strength which causes you to collide into the wall.

“what the fuck?!” you yelps, tears brimming your eyes from the impact.

did he just throw you across the room?

but you have no time to yell at him because belphegor is standing in the doorway with his eyes locked onto your naked body. your hands fly to hide your private parts, but you are stark naked and daring not to move.

meanwhile, beel sits nonchalantly on his bed, covering his crotch with the sheets. “nothing. nothing is going on.”

belphie doesn’t seem convinced, which doesn’t come as a surprise and he slowly backs out, closing the door behind him.

not a second after he leaves, you throw the dirtiest, most disgusted look of betrayal at beel. “every man for himself, huh?”

“i’m so sorry, mc,” he glooms. “i panicked.”

“panicked? you threw me across the room!”

𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐏𝐇𝐄𝐆𝐎𝐑

“belphie,” you whisper, shaking the shoulders of his sleeping form. “belphie, wake up.”

a grumble sounds from his limp frame, and you roll your eyes, shaking him harder.

“belphie, please wake up,” and with a sigh, you add, “i’m horny.”

again, nothing.

chewing on your lips in thought, your hands mindlessly graze over your body — your breasts, squeezing them with a gasp; your hips, grabbing them exactly where belphie loves; and your thighs, digging into your flesh with desperation.

you don’t realise your pitiful actions, nor the broken moan that escapes you until belphie rolls onto his other side, his back now facing you.

a pout forms on your lips and you grab him again, shaking him with all your might. but your frustration passes right through his sleeping form.

“belphegor, wake up right now! i need you!”

“keep it down…”

giving up, you flop onto the mattress beside him, unable to remove your eyes from his peaceful face. as unsatisfactory as his response is, your body still needs to be put at ease. and you can’t do that without some form of relief.

before you know it, your fingers slip below the line of your underwear and a shaky breath escapes you. you make work of yourself, thrusting your fingers in and out while imagining belphie’s cock driving hard into your pussy.

what you would give for him to open his eyes and plant his fingertips into the softness of your hips, holding you in place beneath his sweating body as he slams into you, his cock making its mark all along your walls.

“fuck…” you whimper, with a hint of his name among your quiet moans as you cum.

belphie has yet to move an inch, completely ignorant to you and your orgasm. so much for quality time. with your eyelids drooping, you allow yourself to sink into the sheets and pillows, carefully snuggling into belphie’s body as to not wake him.

an hour passes, or maybe two, possibly more and belphegor finally stirs. he yawns with little energy and rolls onto his back, but his arm stays wrapped around you, tucking you into his chest. all it takes is one look for that swirling sensation in his stomach to come alive.

he looks down at his crotch and sees that the problem goes further than so–called butterflies; his hardened cock stretches the material of his pants. morning wood has never been so persistent since you came along.

every remnant of sleep is gone in an instant and he’s on top of you, lips pressed against your neck and hands sneaking up your shirt, squeezing your hips on their way to your tits.

“hah…” small gasps and moans escape him as his hips jut against you. “what are you doing to me?”

he hates that innocent look on your face, so oblivious to the effect you have on him and to what he is doing to you. but that innocence is also what turns him on. god, he could just devour you whole like the sick demon he is and you wouldn’t know a thing because you’re far to busy dreaming something sweet.

it’s almost like he can smell it, the dream. or, a more logical explanation would be the sweetness between your legs. your glistening slit has him drooling when he pulls your panties away and he soon makes work of freeing his aching cock from his own clothes.

“mc,” he whispers against you with a kiss. “wake up, i’m horny.”

your eyes open slightly, and as soon as you register his hot, naked body above you, you roll over to the side with a huff.

“not now, belphie. i’m tired.”

well, he supposes this is what he deserves. it’s a taste of his own medicine, after all.

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bluetooththereptile · 5 months

Text

The heir

(yandere Thomas Wayne x male reader x potential yandere Bruce Wayne)

( English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes in the following text.)

Summary: You never belonged to the world of what would be called by the dimension travelers, the earth 2. You never wanted to end up in the hands of a violent grumpy old man that seemed oh so lonely,but you did and you have build yourself a life by his side, but everything is about to change, and your old man Thomas, wouldn't like it at all.

Tw: mentions of abuse,violence,injuries and unhealthy yandere tendencies.

"For God's sake old man, just take tonight off!" You groaned as you tried to stop Thomas from putting his suit on, the argument had been going on for the past 15 minutes and he had been trying to ignore you, the old bat gave you a side eye glare, the usual response, but you knew it wasn't harsh, he could never be harsh with you, not anymore. He still regretted the day he had slapped you all those years ago, the image of your teary eyes was etched in his memory and nearly as haunting as the memory of Bruce's death. Thomas finally grunted in your response "Leave me be kid".

But you were determined to make him take tonight off, he deserved to rest and take his mind off of the worries of the bleak world out there, you didn't like to see him in that state, nearly drunk and wrecked, it was the night of Bruce's death, and you hated the fact that no matter how much you tried to make him feel better, every year this night He'd be in shambles. You had one solution left, something risky that you knew would cos some problems with you and Thomas, you dragged in a breath "Dad..." Thomas visibly stiffened, you knew how much you calling him by that meant to him and whenever you did so he'd become overbearingly protective of you for the following days days. You did it all the time when you were in your preteens unknowingly feeding into the melting pot of his emotions, but when you started to grow up it turned into something reserved for the most vulnerable situations between you two, a strategy that you'd use for rare occasions "Please, dad...take tonight off..." you said as you put your hand on his shoulder.

"You know I can't..." his tone was now softer, it had worked! You sighed "I know, I know but going out won't help either, take a pill and sleep, I promise nothing will go wrong, I and the boys can handle it" with mentioning the boys Thomas sighed, rubbing his temple, he was considering your words, it progressed!...who would have imagined that you had managed to convince Thomas to take in more sidekicks, something that had started with you befriending a lost boy in one of your patrols had ended up with Thomas surrounding himself with lost but talented boys that would help him in both his duty as batman, and his situation as a father who still tried to heal. It was you who had proved to him that he could take in more, you had given him a new drive.

Thomas turned towards you, his blue eyes softening slightly, you had grown so much in the past decade, from the whimpering child that had ended up on the steps of the Wayne Manor, talking about another world and crying for his dead son, Bruce, who had adopted you in your world, to a capable man, someone that had whipped both the Wayne Manor and Wayne industries into shape and became a solace to his mind. He knew he wasn't a good father figure to you, always smelling of alcohol and busy with work, but you stuck to him like an annoying little sticky patch, but he'd be damned if he'd let this little patch be removed from his side.

"You don't take no for an answer do you?" A remnant of a smirk was on his lips "I've learnt from you" you teased with a chuckle. Thomas surprisingly, after half an hour of persuasion, gave in, putting his cowl back into the wardrobe. It already showed the amount of trust he had in you. "If anything goes wrong you know the consequences" he softly scolded and you only smirked at him, making him roll his eyes slightly, you were always like this.

Watching him walk out of the cave you turned back to put your suit on but then froze at the sight of the five boys standing there with large grins "Shhh..." you hushed them before they could rejoice, you finally had convinced Thomas! The boys let out silent shouts of victory as they strangled each other in the heat of excitement, you couldn't help but laugh. You had grown to see them as your brothers, life in Manor with them wasn't easy, but it was much better than the darkness that had surrounded you and Thomas's life in your first years with him. You had taken the role of the eldest sibling seriously, helping the boys with their training, studies, and lives and here you were, looking at them in their respective suits. Brothers, true brothers.

"You already know where your areas of patrols are don't you?" You spoke as you put your suit on, it was identical to Thomas's, but without a cape, the news had given you the name Shadow Hunter after you had started your role as a more aggressive vigilante, turning from bat boy to your own hero. The boys nodded, arguing with you wasn't worth it, when Y/N would say something it was absolute. Not that the boys didn't understand that you knew what you were doing, it was just that they had their preferences, but you didn't budge.

Two of the boys were now old enough to find their paths but they had chosen to stay, you were a family, a very tight-knit one at that, even if it didn't show. You cared for them greatly "Don't get into trouble" you warned them, reaching to fix their masks and examine their belts and gadgets, they groaned and nagged, calling you their nanny, but you were responsible for them and you didn't want to see them get hurt.

...

"Patrolling alone again?" Cyborg's voice made you roll your eyes mentally. You Had hoped your patrol would be silent and peaceful so you'd go back soon, but apparently, it wouldn't happen. You turned to meet him as he walked towards you, he was always the closest thing you had as the cool uncle figure for you and the boys, but sometimes he went on your nerves, why? you didn't know, it seemed Thomas's grumpiness had influenced you as well. "Old man's taken a day off" you spoke flatly as you paced on top of the roof of the building you were standing on. "How are you Batboy?" He teased, making you give him a soft glare, chuckling in response. It was an old joke now, you were batboy for so long that the veterans in the field still called you by that. After the chuckle defused you sighed and crossed your arms on your chest, looking at a commercial board as you drifted into your thoughts, something inside you made you feel this rather peaceful night was just a calm before the storm, you kept the comms open so if anything was going to happen, you'd hear the boys.

You looked at your shadow cast on the rooftop, tall and board-shouldered, 20 years had passed, a lifetime in a world you didn't belong to. You didn't know but in your original world you were technically the very first Robin of Batman, Bruce hadn't spoken of you since you were pushed into another dimension by the mad scientist that you and Bruce had tried to stop, thinking you were lost in time and space, technically dead. You were only with Bruce for six months, two years before he took Dick in. You were nine and lost in a much darker world. You didn't blame Bruce, actually, you hardly thought of him or your original world, there you were an orphan, unwanted, here, even if it wasn't easy, you had your own family and friends.

Why Thomas took you in though? Suddenly the question popped into your head, making you narrow your eyes at the thought. You didn't know why, Thomas was a very hard man to deal with from the start, his mental space wasn't right at all, and it still was not in a good shape either, perhaps because he had lost a son and now another boy close to Bruce's age at the time of his death had appeared out of nowhere he kept you. Abusive for the first few years, angry and drunk for nearly all the time, you were afraid of Thomas when you were younger, but still you stuck by his side, taking it his tough love, you didn't have any options.

But before you both could figure everything out, things changed after that incident, you had gotten into a fight and it had nearly caused your death, Thomas had slapped you so hard that you fell on the ground, looking up at him with teary eyes. After that Thomas changed, he became more patient with you, took in more boys, and soon the name Wayne was plastered on your ID card, and you had ended up following the path of the semi-CEO of the Wayne industries, the heir of legacies of Batman and Thomas Wayne.

The hand on your shoulder pulled you out of your thoughts. "As usual lost in your thoughts eh?" You shrugged at cyborg, making him smile "I give the right to do so" he squeezed your shoulder reassuringly "Being bat's boy isn't easy..." he said, pointing at the scar on your jaw, Thomas once had beat you so hard that it's scar's place didn't heal completely. You smiled slightly at that "I'm not complaining" you responded, You had forgiven Thomas a long time ago, he had tried his best to take care of you and the boys, and well, even if it wasn't the best parenting you still appreciated. Cyborg opened his mouth to speak but then paused as he got a signal, giving you an apologetic smile he left you alone, before you could say something the comms in your cowl started talking, it was one of the boys "There is a mess, we need backup!"

....

Spent you and the boys sat on a long bench, groaning in unison. The amount of thugs you all had beaten was too much to even count. "That's a new record," one of the boys said as he stretched "I don't know about you but I think I've dislocated a finger" another joked "Should we get something from Five Guys?" "Yep," you all said in unison. You looked at your brothers with a smile, even if you all were covered in bruises and some specks of blood, but still, it was the most precious moment that you could have, your life wasn't easy, but they made it more tolerating.

You chuckled as you watched them interact, but you couldn't help the tugging in your heart, something wasn't right, but what? What?! You stood up and walked to your motorcycle but before you could reach it you felt like everything around you distorted, even the voices of your brothers, but before you could turn around and call for them a force pulled you into oblivion, it was a familiar feeling, something that you had felt years ago. And when you ended up in front of a man wearing that Batman suit and a few others, you knew you were in a different world.

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thehusbandoden · 9 months

Text

You Flinch During an Argument -Hawks

My confidence for this series is like at a 2 outta 10 but I can't really take it back now sooo ig I'll just continue to write. I hope someone's enjoying it </3

Hurt to Comfort | 1,097 words

Warnings!: Mentions of arguing, flinching, mention of someone beating up on themselves (Hawks), Hawks' name used. Let me know if I miss any <3

Gif credit: @tatakaeeren

His heart will stop as soon as he sees you recoiling from him.

He was planning on simply taking your hand to ground you both.

He'll softly ask if you're okay and what you need from him.

You need him to leave you alone? Sure thing, he'll be busy cussing himself out in the kitchen- doing those stupid dishes the argument started.

Want comfort? Don't worry, he'll hold you for hours upon hours, accomanying each peck with a soft apology.

He'll get very upset with himself and will be very reserved and somewhat cold for the next week or so.

He keeps thinking back to that one movement from you.

And no matter what he was planning on doing and how you said that you knew he wasn't going to hurt you, he can't get the idea that you flinched because of him out of his head.

You finally have enough when he leaves for a mission and only gives you a peck on the lips, no extra cuddles, kisses, hugs, compliments, or tickle fights the entire week he was preparing to leave.

Right as he was saying his goodbye his eyes were as cold as ever, holding no liveliness in the honey depths.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" You pout, crossing your arms across your chest.

And that was quite normal for the two of you.

He would chuckle and swoop you in his winged embrace, kissing your lips before inhaling the scent of your shampoo, kissing your forehead as he did so. "I love you, and I miss you already", "You're so goregous.. don't find someone better when I'm gone, mkay?", "I cannot wait to see your smiling face when I get back" were some of the things he would whisper to you as he hugged you, mentally bracing himself for the long week or more that he would be apart from you.

But now? All he did was glance around before giving you a negative response, informing you he had everything.

"A-aren't you going to kiss me?" You ask, emotions getting the best of you.

He then came and gave you a small, fleeting peck to the lips before heading out with another hushed 'goodbye'.

You then labored to figure out how to help him for the next three weeks, until he finally came home to you.

As Keigo's hand made its way towards you you recoiled back out of instinct, not fear. You would never fear your Keigo.

But did he know that?

Terror consumed Keigo as soon as he saw you flinch.. were you.. scared of him?

His heart beat faster against his chest as sweat protruded from his body... you were scared of him... he scared you.

Forcing himself to get a grip and focus on you, Keigo weakly asked, "Y-y/n... did you think I was going to hit you?"

You immedietly shook your head no, and made your way to him, one hand on his cheek. "No baby, I know you would never hit me. I don't know why I flinched, I guess it was just instinct. I'm not scared of you."

"O-oh.. well do you want me to leave you alone or.."

"I would love it if you would cuddle me. We can talk more later, right now we both just need one another." At that, Keigo nodded before making his way towards your shared bedroom, holding your hand in his trembling one.

Since then, Keigo has been a wreck.

He doesn't eat properly, he doesn't sleep properly, and he's not his usual chipper self. He's a lot more cold towards you, sitting on the other side of the living room instead of right next you, he does the dishes, laundry, vaccuming, and any other kind of chore you can think of without playfully bantering with you like usual, he avoids starting arguments, always just agreeing to whatever you were saying, and he hardly touches you.

If you want a kiss before he goes to work, you need to ask for one, and then you'll get a small peck on the lips, and sometimes just your forehead.

You want cuddles after having a nightmare? You're going to have to deal with you clinging onto him for comfort while he awkwardly rubs your shoulders.

He's miserable, punishing himself for a simple reaction from you.

"I'm leaving y/n." Keigo called, picking up his bags and suitcase, entirely ready to leave.

"Wait! Wait!" You exclaim, dashing into the enterance way. "Aren't you forgetting something?"

"I have everything needed for the trip." Keigo muttered, honey eyes cold.

As Keigo turned to leave your emotions went out of whack, Keigo is really messed up if he won't kiss you before a three week mission.

"C-can I get a kiss?" You ask quietly, emotions ready to leak any minute.

Keigo just walked towards you, pecking your lips once, before walking out of the door with a quick "goodbye".

As soon as the door closed you fell onto your knees, overcome with emotions. Your Keigo was truly broken. He hadn't even said 'I love you'.

Three weeks later Keigo came home, and you had a plan in mind. You would simply sit him down and have a talk with him, ask him what's bothering him, get him to talk, comfort him, and then reassure him. Then, things would be back to normal.

But that bird just had to ruin all of your hardwork.

As soon as Keigo stepped through the door he jumped on top of you, dropping the two of you onto the livingroom floor.

"K-Keigo?"

"Oh y/n I am so so sorry! I was so focussed on my worry about you that they sent me home and then I decided to go take a vacation and clear my head- and I realized how cold I've been to you! I didn't even give you a kiss- or, or say I love you- y/n I am so very very sorry." Keigo exclaimed, burying his face into your chest pitifully.

"Oh baby what changed? I was going to sit you down and make you talk it out unil you were normal again."

"I thought about it over and over again- and I realized that you're not acting scared of me. If you were you would be quiet and would want to stay away from me and not start those silly arguments you keep tryin' to pull." Keigo pouted, pecking your lips once he was done talking.

"Keigo.. you still haven't said it."

"Said wha- oh I love you! I love you, I love you, I love you!~"

Series masterlist | Hawks' masterlist | Main masterlist | Navigation

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Reblogs help spread and support my work, but any support is appreciated <33

Do not copy, repost, nor plagiarize my work. Ask before you translate or use my work in any way, minus reblogging.

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andreafmn · 10 months

Text

Speak | Chapter 10

Word Count: 3.5K Story Description: Bella Swan was a disaster when Edward had left. Deciding she needed a little help, Charlie Swan receives with open arms his younger daughter (Y/N) Swan. She helps Bella during her depression and becomes inseparable from her long-lost friend Jacob. What she didn’t expect was falling for a hotheaded short-tempered silver wolf. Chapter: 10/? Warnings: emotional and mental abuse A/N: can't believe I finished this on schedule! the story everyone is obsessed with for some reason just got updated😂🤍 My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts to support me and my love of writing or buy me a coffee TikTok • Instagram • Business | MASTERLIST If you’d like to be tagged in this or any other story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post! Taglists for Twilight get filled quick and Tumblr only lets me tag up to a certain point. Notifications are your best bet.

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Chapter 10

"Do you want to stay over tonight?" Jacob suddenly asked as the pair made their way to his truck. "It's already so late and I don't wanna make the drive back to Forks right now."

"Uh, sure, that sounds great," she said, trying to contain her excitement. A surge of happiness took over her as she witnessed Jake trying. He was trying to keep them together, at least that's what it looked like to her. "I'll just let dad know."

"Yeah, sure."

After she had settled on the center of the seat, Jacob helped his father into the truck, stepping out to say goodbye to his friends.

"I'll let you know that there won't be any funny business under my roof, (Y/N)," Billy smiled teasingly. "Though I am glad that Jacob is seemingly trying to turn over a new leaf this new year."

"I promise we'll do nothing but sleep, Billy," she chuckled. "And I also hope this is a new start for Jake and me. That everything that happened stays in the past and we can just give it our all in this relationship."

"If it is meant to be, (Y/N), the universe will find a way," he said as mystically as he always spoke. "You deserve happiness, my child."

"People keep saying that," she responded, her eyes growing far more interested in the skin of her fingers. "Does no one think that Jake can make me happy?"

"That's not what I'm saying, (Y/N)," he smiled, his hand falling on top of the one she was picking. "All I am saying is that if the love and happiness that you deserve is with Jacob, then the universe will allow it."

"And if not?"

"Then, your paths will always align."

"Then let's hope that what's written on the stars is in our favor." And as she said that she didn't know if she was wishing that to convince him or to convince herself.

The three of them rode back to the Black residence in a comfortable silence. The sounds of the woods and the whistling of the wind filled their quiet. She wondered what they said. If they whispered words of encouragement or if they taunted her downfall. She wanted to believe it was the former, because the latter would wreck her.

"Well, you two. I trust that you will behave yourselves since you're under my roof," Billy told them, eyeing the teenagers suspiciously. "And don't start getting used to these sleepovers. This is only because it's already two in the morning and we are all tired."

"Dad," Jacob grumbled. "Just go to bed already."

"Ooh, never thought I'd be shooed away in my own home," the man chuckled. "But I will leave you two. Not because you told me so, but because I am tired. Good night, kids."

"Night, dad."

"Good night, Billy."

Billy rolled away to his bedroom, turning in for the night. He left the couple standing in the living room, a heavy and tense air blowing between them. They had yet to acknowledge everything that had happened between them, much less finally putting it to rest.

"Uh, I'll get you some clothes and you can shower first if you want," Jacob mumbled as he walked into his room before coming out with a folded t-shirt and some sweatpants. "Might be a bit big on you, but it's better than nothing. There're extra towels under the sink."

"Sure," she smiled. "Thanks."

There was still remnant awkwardness between them as they tried to waltz around unspoken words. She locked herself in the bathroom, finally allowing herself to breathe. Fresh start is what she told herself. Over and over again she told herself that they were having a fresh start. As she showered and cleaned away Paul's touch and the thought of him, she had to believe it.

Jacob was who she had always wanted. The boy she had grown up with, the one she had never forgotten. Still, her mind wondered what would have happened if Paul had been the one she had met first. If he had been the boy that was in her mind for the almost sixteen years she had been alive. Maybe she would have been standing in his bathroom instead of Jake's. Maybe she would have been wearing his oversized t-shirt.

"Hey," Jacob called softly from the living room as she opened the bathroom door. "Come here."

(Y/N) walked down the hallway to where he was, a smile stretching on her face as she was met with what Jake had done while she showered.

He had pushed aside the wooden coffee table that lived between the sofas and placed in its stead plush blankets and pillows, a pair of hot chocolate mugs in front of the fireplace. His long, wet hair was plaited back, and he had changed into pajamas. And he was waiting for her.

"What's all this?" (Y/N) smiled.

"I think it's about time we put things to rest already, (Y/N)," he said, patting the pace in front of him. "I don't like fighting with you."

"I don't like it either," she sighed contentedly as she sank into the warmth of his body, his arms wrapping around her. "I like things when they're like this. When we're together and happy."

"I know, and I want it to be like this all the time. But it can't be when I hear you're running around with Paul," he reminded her. His tone was soft, but his words were as snipping as a snake's bite. "I just can't stand the guy and it's embarrassing when it happens in front of the town."

"Jake, I..."

"Don't worry, baby, that's all in the past. As long as you promise not to see him again, (Y/N). I don't want you to fall into his trap."

(Y/N) couldn't remain quiet for long. She knew it would only work to anger him. But how could she promise something she didn't want to do? Something that her gut told her was wrong. "Of course," she lied. "I promise. Paul is a thing from the past."

"That's what I like to hear," he smiled before he turned her head to kiss her. "We need to focus more on us. Focus on our relationship."

"I would love that," she beamed. "I want this to work, Jake. I want us to work."

"Then let's," he smirked.

Jake attached his mouth to her neck, nipping at a spot that took her breath away. His hand held her head back, gripping her jaw. He took in her scent, the warmth of her skin, the sounds from her mouth. All as he imagined...

"Stop, Jake," she said, her voice treading between a moan and a chuckle. "Your dad is literally down the hall."

"He's a heavy sleeper," he chuckled against her skin. "He'll never know."

"No, Jake." She separated from him; a playful grin splayed on her mouth as she turned to face him. "Not here. Not now."

"Ugh, fine," he groaned, falling on his back. "Then, I guess we'll just sleep."

"Yes," she mused, crawling over his body and planting a soft kiss on his lips. "But together."

Jacob wrapped his arms around her and chuckled, positioning both of them comfortably on a blanket and draping another over them. Her body curled into his, his arms wrapped around her waist as he spooned her.

"We'll have to talk about taking things to the next level," he said against her ear, his breath tickling her skin. "I think it might cement everything between us."

"And I think you need to take a breather, Jacob," she chuckled. "We just got to a good place. Let's take things as they go."

"Ugh, fine," he muttered jokingly. "Then, let's just go to sleep."

"Alright, Jake. Good night."

"Night, (Y/N)."

If every night after was like this one, maybe it was the universe's way of telling her that Jake was the one. Laying there, wrapped in his arms, she could let herself believe that the tides were changing. That at the end of the day, Jacob would choose her. Maybe, just maybe.

***

"I can't believe she went home with him," Paul groaned, punching a nearby tree. The way the bark splintered helped ease his anger for a second, but the burning pain inside his chest remained. "I don't know what else I can do to make her understand what a shitty guy he is."

"You know there is," Jared teased. "You could always tell her how you feel and why."

Paul's stoic stare was clear even in the darkness of the night. He knew Jared was right. The more he pursued her without telling her the reason why, the harder it would be to explain his behavior. "You know I can't, dude," he grumbled. "I don't wanna put her in the middle of all of this bull."

"It's not that bad, man," the boy offered. "Look at me and Kim. She knows and nothing has happened to her."

"Yeah, she also liked you before you were a shapeshifting freak," he joked. "And look at Emily. She's forever scarred because didn't have a grasp on what was happening."

"Come on, you know that was an exception, Paul. What happened to her was a very unfortunate accident. But an accident, nonetheless. There's really no reason for you to be running from (Y/N)."

"Look how much shit happened to Bella in so little time, Jared. And it all started when she found out the truth about the Cullens," Paul said. "I don't know what I would do if I made (Y/N) go through any of that because of what I am."

"So you're gonna continue brooding and make our lives miserable? Just tell her, man. Maybe she'll fall in love with you and turn that frown upside down."

Paul picked up a stick and threw it at Jared's head, laughing as the other boy tried to duck but failed to; the piece of wood bouncing off his forehead. "You'll have to put up with me for a lot longer then," he laughed, swallowing the sadness that threatened to overtake him. "I just don't think I have it in me to do that to her. She deserves to be safe and happy."

"Even if it's with Jacob?"

"Unfortunately, that decision is hers to make," he sighed. "I just wish she didn't have to get hurt in the process."

Jared remained quiet for a second. He stared as his pack brother paced before him, his mind too quiet aside for the sporadic image of (Y/N). But even if he didn't say it, he could feel Paul's sadness. He could feel the tug in his chest that called him to go to her. He had felt it too. Every time Kim had to go to a family dinner or visit family out of state, he felt like someone had taken his heart off his chest and sent it away.

But (Y/N) was so close. All he had to do was have one tough conversation and he could soften the grasp of the claws that covered his heart. "What are you so afraid of, Paul?" Jared finally said. "I know you say you don't want to hurt her and all that, but there's something else. Isn't there?"

Paul stared at his friend, wondering if he was that transparent. "I've never been a, uh, a relationship guy. Haven't had the best role models," he confessed. "I guess I think that if I let myself get close to her, I won't be able to handle when she inevitably goes. Because at the end of the day, everyone leaves."

"Not everyone, Paul. We're still here."

"Because you have to be," he shrugged. "If you had the chance to go, you would take it. And don't try denying it."

"Come on, man. You're my friend. More than that, you're my brother," Jared reassured. "But, sure, if I had the chance to leave the rez one day, I would take it. But that doesn't mean I would leave my friends behind. Much less, family."

"Jared, we wouldn't have even spoken to each other had it not been because of the shift. I'm not that delusional to think otherwise."

"Regardless of how or why it happened, life brought us together, Paul. And whether you like it or not, you're my brother now," the boy smiled, draping his arm over Paul's shoulders. "Now, you need to let that girl prove that she would stick by you as well. And it starts by having that difficult conversation you're so scared to have. She's desperate for a reason, dude. All you have to do is tell her."

"She's going to think I'm crazy, J. That I'm making up stories to get her away from Jake," Paul whined. "Why would she believe that there are shapeshifting wolves roaming around the reservation protecting humans from threats? And what if she goes to her sister with the story? Then Bella will know about vampires and shapeshifters, and it'll just add more shit on top of the mess we're dealing with."

"How about you stop overthinking yourself into the ground and finally grow some balls?" Jared teased. "Don't think of what might happen and live in the moment. I know last year's Paul would've had the courage to ask her out. Jacob or no Jacob."

"I technically already asked her out once, and it ended up with me, by myself, in the diner," he reminded his friend, red flooding his cheeks as he recalled the embarrassing moment. "This is not just about inviting the prettiest girl in school to the prom. This is about telling someone that everything they had believed is not real. It's telling her that it doesn't matter what she might have wanted, that something out in the universe decided that we are bonded for life. It's telling a girl like her that she's stuck with a guy like me."

"Man, I can't keep trying to convince you that you are a good guy," Jared sighed. "I'm not saying you're the gods' gift to mankind. Certainly not the you from a year ago. But you're not that guy anymore. You're not even the same guy from six months ago. So, it's time to pick yourself up and do what you have to do. Stop moping about this and do something."

***

(Y/N) woke up with warm arms wrapped around her and a pang in her chest she didn't understand. She was supposed to feel happy. She was supposed to wake up that New Year's Day with an overwhelming amount of joy and the sense that things were finally on the right path. Instead, there was an aching void in her heart that was trying to eat at her insides.

It was the same void that had started festering since that fateful night at the bonfire. The one that seemed to calm whenever the fluke was around. The one that called out his name and she had let go on deaf ears.

That pang filled her with guilt. As she lay in Jacob's arms, she felt guilty that her head was thinking of another guy. And it was a guy she barely knew. A boy that she had no business thinking about, much less dreaming about.

But she couldn't help it. She couldn't forget the softness of his hands against her skin, the brightness of his smile as he looked at her, the glimmer in his eyes when he listened to her. She couldn't get him out of her head.

And as if by divine intervention, the very constant thought appeared in Jacob's window. He knocked softly, motioning for her to go outside. (Y/N) couldn't believe he was there, much less that Jacob had yet to wake up. But what was harder to fathom was the fact that she was tiptoeing to the front door dragging a blanket with her.

"What are you doing here, Paul?" (Y/N) said as she closed the door behind her, wrapping the fabric tighter around her body. "If Jacob sees you here, he'll kill you."

"I thought I was supposed to be playing nice with him," he grinned teasingly. "What if I was here to extend a truce?"

"It wouldn't have mattered because he made me promise him that I wouldn't see you again," she whispered. "So, imagine what he will do if he sees you here right now."

"And did you?"

"What? Did I what?"

"Did you promise him, (Y/N)?" Paul asked sadly. "Is this your way of telling me that you're cutting ties with me?"

"No, of course not," she quickly replied. "I mean, I did promise him. But I never intended to keep it. I would just find a way to keep you two separate."

"So, what? I'd just be your dirty little secret?" he replied, anger clear in his tone. "Yeah, no, thanks. I'd rather take my chances with other friendships."

"What did you want me to say, Paul? Did you want me to tell my jealous boyfriend that I wanted to maintain a friendship with the one guy he seems to despise more than anything?" (Y/N) spoke through gritted teeth. "Would you have wanted me to tell Jake that I wanted to spend time with a guy he was close to dragging into the middle of town and beating the living daylights out of him? Sure, that would have ended great for me."

"Why would you wanna be with a guy like that, (Y/N)? If you're that afraid of his reaction over something as small as a friendship, what do you think will happen if something bigger happens?"

"He only reacts that way with you, and I don't get why," she sighed. "And I wanna be with him because I... because... because I..."

"Why, (Y/N)? Tell me!"

"Because I love him, Paul," she cried, shame cracking her voice. "I've been waiting for this chance for the better part of my life. I've been in love with him for as long as I've known what it was. And he wants me back, Paul. He wants me. And I'm not giving up at the first sign of hardship. So, if you really want to be my friend then you're gonna have to live with that."

"What if I don't?" Paul grumbled, his voice low and hurt. He got closer to her. So close she could feel how warm his body was, even through the blanket. "What if I can't stand around and watch as he mistreats you? Someone that loves you would never treat you like that."

"Don't make this harder than it already is, Paul," she whispered, warm tears falling down her cheeks. "For some reason I want you in my life. But I won't screw up what I just started with Jacob for a friend."

"I just don't wanna see you like this," he said, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumbs. "You deserve to be happy, but not when it has rules and regulations like this. You should be allowed to still be yourself when you're in a relationship."

"Paul..."

"Listen, (Y/N)," he sighed. "I can't tell you what to do, nor would I want to. But I can't just watch in the sidelines as he treats you like shit when you deserve someone that will worship the ground you walk on."

"What are you saying, Paul?" (Y/N) croaked. "Are you saying you won't be my friend if I stay with Jacob?"

"(Y/N), I'm saying that I won't keep quiet if he keeps mistreating you."

"He doesn't," she said, but she knew it wasn't convincing. She didn't even believe it herself. "He just... he's just passionate, I guess."

"Then can you promise me something?" Paul sighed, his eyes glossing with tears. "If he ever –and I mean ever—gets physical with you, even as much as lifts his hand at you, you will tell me. The second it happens, you call me."

"I don't think it'll come to that," she forced a smile. "He would never put his hands on me."

"Just, please, (Y/N). Promise me and don't lie to me."

"Alright," she said, looking straight into the brown of his eyes. "I promise, Paul."

"I'll make sure you're always safe," he promised. His hand had not fallen from her face, his thumb caressing over her cheekbone. "No one is going to hurt you, (Y/N)."

(Y/N) had no idea why, but she believed every word he said. So, she promised. And, unlike with Jacob, she intended to keep it.

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a-midnight-smoke · 10 months

Text

Keep him from breaking

___

Miguel O'Hara x m!reader

___

content: angst, hurt/comfort, a bit of fluff

trigger warnings: panic attack (not overly described but it's there), self-harm connected with said panic attack (scratching, pulling hair), mention of skipping meals

words: ~1 800

___

So, I finally wrote something again, and who would have thought that the thing breaking my 2 year writer's block would be fucking Miguel O'hara (it was predictable).

I don't agree with writers who characterize him as this suave flirt. Like, that is a broken, emotionally constipated, traumatized man, he would NOT make you call him papi, but then again, to each their own, write and read what you want, idc that much.

Miguel is a pathetic, wet cat, and so I wrote him breaking down in tears because he thought something happened to you. Call it emotional diarrhea after weeks of constipation. And that's my truth.

It's my first time posting a fic anywhere, I wrote this in one evening and then kept tweaking it for like 2 months and debating if I should post this cause I'm an anxious bitch, but finally said fuck it we ball.

Also, I'm a trans guy, and so my reader character will also be. I may write a gender-neutral reader, but not a female one. It's not really important in this particular story, but just so you know.

Also, also, english isn't my first language, so sorry for any mistakes. I appreciate feedback !

Anyway, if you like it you should like and reblog !! Thanks and have fun reading !!

___

Miguel's lungs were burning, but he couldn't stop. Not when he didn't know if you were safe. He needed to get to you. Make sure you're fine.

He crashed into your bedroom window, almost breaking it in the process. His red eyes darted to your bed, where you were not. You weren't in your bed. He called out your name but was only met with deafening silence.

He ran to the door, yanking it off the hinges in the process. Miguel could feel panic building in his chest, heart hammering in his ears.

He was in a trance, looking in every empty space in your apartment, calling for you, begging for you, and thrashing it when he didn't find you. He was breathing faster and harder by the seconds, his hands flying to his head to grab and pull at the strands harshly. Where were you? Someone must have kidnapped you, right? Why else would the apartment be empty?

The slight burn in his scalp didn't help to ease his rising panic, so he started clawing at his arms with his talons as he tried to think of what to do. He couldn't lose you, he couldn't. He needed you, more than life itself. He would tear the city apart to find you and had half a mind to do it already. He was heading for the window when-

The quiet janking of keys stopped him in place, staring at the front door, holding his breath. When he saw you enter, safe, sound and humming to yourself, something broke in him. Weeks of tension and stress finally catching up with him.

He pulled you into his arms, hiding his face in your neck as he started crying and hyperventilating, broken sobs escaping him, interrupted with occasional coughs as you stood still, stunned. His broad body enveloping yours, feeling you. He had to make sure he hadn't completely lost his mind, that you were really here.

As you got over your initial shock, you brought one hand to cradle Miguel's head, scratching slightly at his scalp and the other to trace soothing circles across his back, muttering soft reassurances.

But he couldn't stop hyperventilating, so you gently tried to pry him off of yourself, to no avail.

"Miguel? I need you to look at me, sweetheart." You cooed at him, and after some more coaxing, he pulled away, making sure you were holding his hands. Sobs wrecked through his body, face covered in tears and snot, bloodshot eyes accentuating the redness of his irises. He couldn't look away from you, couldn't stop touching you, afraid that you would disappear if he did.

You brought his hands to your chest, making it a point to breathe deeply and evenly.

"Breathe with me, Mig. Can you do that for me?" you spoke softly and slowly, trying to calm him down. He took a shaky breath that was interrupted by a coughing fit.

"Take it easy, sweetie. Just breathe with me."

It took some time, but his breathing started to finally even out, his sobs now just hiccups. His legs gave out, and you both tumbled to the floor, Miguel quickly wrapping you in his arms once again, listening and feeling your heartbeat. You hugged him back, resuming your earlier ministrations until he stopped crying completely. You stayed like that, on the floor of your trashed apartment, until Miguel spoke in a shaky, raspy from crying voice.

"I thought something… that something happened to you. When I couldn't find you here. That somebody took you from me." He grabbed onto you harder, digging his talonless fingers into your waist when you started to pull away, but you persisted, wanting to see his face. He reluctantly pulled away again, still holding your waist.

"Why would something happen to me? Why would somebody take me?" You would be lying if you said that seeing your, normally emotionally constipated, boyfriend in such a state of disarray didn't make you feel a bit anxious.

"T'was just this guy I was interrogating, let 'im get into my head." he mumbled. In hindsight, the guy was just a pawn, probably didn't know anything and was bluffing to get a rise out of Miguel. Which, combined with his high stress levels and deteriorating mental health, led to the situation at hand.

He tensed when he heard you sigh. Were you annoyed with him? Were you mad at him? You should be, he destroyed your apartment. You should just throw him out, really. He was good for nothing and did not deserve you. It would be better for everyone if he-

"Hey," your voice was still so soft, "get out of your head, Miguel." he slowly looked up to see you staring at him with a worried, but not angry, expression. You cradled his face, Miguel leaning into it instinctively and closing his eyes. You looked over him, over his bruised face, bloody lips and bloodshot eyes with dark bags underneath. He looked thinner than the last time you saw him, with his sunken cheeks. You scrunched your eyebrows.

"When was the last time you slept? And ate?" Well, that's embarrassing. Miguel looked away, feeling his cheeks heat up.

"Miguel..."

"Like four days ago? " He wished he hadn't said anything, he usually didn't, he would insist he was fine, but he was just so tired the words slipped from him without much thought. "Food's making me feel nauseas, so I started skipping meals."

The look on your face was something he didn't want to see ever again.

"Miguel, you can't keep doing this. You should have told me, or Gabriel, or anyone really. It's not healthy," you tried to catch his eyes, which he was expertly avoiding. He grimaced.

"You all have enough on your plate as it is. I make sure the multiverse won't collapse in on itself, I should be able to take care of myself. I'm a grown man." He withdrew his hands completely, ignoring the part of his brain screaming at him to not let go of you, going back to scratching at himself, which caused you to look down. Your breath caught in your throat. His forearms were completely covered in blood, which was still seeping from some of the deeper wounds where he tore his suit. You tried to take his hands into yours, but he crossed his arms over his chest, continuing to avoid your gaze.

"Miguel," you started, voice firm, but with a soft note, "you are not a burden. You never could be, not to me. I love you so much, it pains me to see you hurt yourself like this. It doesn't matter that you're a grown man, you shouldn't feel like you have to keep everything to yourself, like you can't reach out to me, or anybody, for help. Let me take care of you. You deserve to be taken care of, no matter what you brain is telling you." You sighed, calming your racing heart.

"I'm sorry, Miguel," he snapped his eyes to you.

"Why are you sorry?" His voice was quiet and hoarse.

"I'm sorry that I didn't see you struggling sooner, that you felt like you couldn't talk with me about it. Four days? Without sleep and food? You have to be exhausted, even with your mutations. How are you even thinking clearly right now?" He doesn't, that's why your apartment is trashed. He looks around the destroyed room, feeling his anxiety creep back up. He opened his mouth to talk, but you beat him to it.

"Don't worry, you'll help me clean up after you get some sleep and eat." You pulled both of you up, struggling a little with Miguel, who had gone quiet again. He let himself be guided to the bathroom, just now starting to feel the burning from his arms.

You undress the bigger man and move him around, all fight having completely sucked out of him. You wash his wounds carefully before stitching the deeper ones and starting to prepare a bath. Now, in the space of your bathroom, the only room that wasn't a complete mess, Miguel realized how exhausted he really was. Guess you really can't sustain yourself on pure spite and adrenaline.

When the water is ready, you guide him into the tub before getting in yourself. You were never more grateful for the big bathtub, fitting Miguel's bruised and tired body, and you straddling him. The water is amazingly hot, already working magic on his tense muscles. You start washing his face with a soft washcloth, careful of his split lip, cleaning him of snot and leftover tears and Miguel's cheeks are heating up, his hands gripping your waist harder at being handled so delicately. He still couldn't get used to your attentiveness. Your hands are gentle on his skin, moving down to his neck and chest, washing away the sweat and grime, mindful of his bruises and leaving soft pecks after washing them and working through the knots in his muscles.

He's finally starting to relax as you move yourself to wash his hair. Your fingers carding through tangled hair, starting to unknot it. You're humming a calming tune, while Miguel sits with closed eyes. Finally letting himself be taken care of. Letting himself be vulnerable. He makes a noise low in his throat, making his chest vibrate a bit before stopping abruptly. You don't pay it any mind, not wanting to draw him out of his relaxed state.

You finish washing Miguel, drain the water, and dry him off, wrapping the towel around his waist and grabbing another to dry his hair. You wrap up all remaining cuts and then guide him to your bedroom, thankful that he at least didn't flip the whole bed upside down. Among the chaos, you find his clothes that he left, helping him dress, since he was practically already asleep, and laying him down on the bed. After getting him under the covers picked up from the floor, you pull away to get ready for bed when he grabs your wrist and looks at you sleepily, but still a little panicked.

"I'll just get ready for bed quickly and get back, okay, sweetheart?" After a moment, he nods slightly and lets go of you, still reluctantly, but he doesn't let himself fall asleep while you're not with him.

When you come back, Miguel is laying with his eyes barely open, fighting off sleep. You smile at the sight and go lay down beside him. He immediately brings you closer, pulling you on top of him, but you just tangle your hand into his locks and listen to his slowing heartbeat.

"You okay, now?" You whisper into the dark but are only met with Miguel's quiet snores. You press one more kiss to his chest, right over his heart.

Sleep never came as easy as tonight.

___

Yes, Miguel stopped himself from purring.

I'm thinking of making a second part that's just pure domesticity and fluff, we'll see.

Anyway, my dog puked on my carpet while I was making final edits to this just now.

#miguel o'hara #across the spiderverse #x reader #x male reader #trans male reader #male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x male reader #atsv x reader #spiderman across the spiderverse #noir-writes :3

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sturn59 · 2 months

Text

drinks | m.s

pairing : y/n x matt

warnings: drinking, fighting, alcohol, intoxication, yelling, crying

summery: after getting in a fight with matt y/n decides to go out drinking to drowned out the emotions

Chris- orange

nick- purple

y/n- pink

Matt- blue

(not proof read)

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

tears begin to well up in your eyes as you look at matt and quickly look back down at the couch.

"what the fuck is wrong with you y/n" matt screams taking a step closer.

it's not uncommon for matt to yell at people, but never like this, and never at me.

"Matt i'm so sorry, but you don't get to be mad at me for this." you say holding matt's journal on you shaking hands.

"why wouldn't you tell me" you say finally growing the guts to look up at him. the look on matt's face was a mix of anger and regret. you knew he was mad but so were you. he told you that he was doing better, he's supposed to come to you when he's struggling. how could he not tell you?

" you promised matt. i could have helped you, i can help you. but you have to tell me" you reach up to your face to wipe you tear soaked face.

matt rips the journal out of your hands and slams his bedroom door. you just off of the couch and chase after him but when you get outside he is already in the car and beginning to pull out of the driveway.

"matt please" you sob hoping he would pull right back in. but he doesn't.

you walk back inside and collapse onto the living room couch still sobbing. you feel a cold hand on your shoulder which makes you jump. when you look up you see chris who was standing in the kitchen watching you pathetically chase after matt.

"y/n, what happened" chris asked, looking genuine

"i fucked up chris that's what happened. we both fucked up" you say standing up and walking into matt and yours bedroom.

you collapse onto the bed thinking about everything that you could have done differently. you laid there wondering why he didn't feel comfortable enough to tell you that his anxiety was getting worse.

after about 30 minutes of laying on the bed the door opens, you sit up slightly to see if it was matt. but it wasn't, if was just chris bringing you a glass of water and tylonal.

you brush him off with a thank you before leaving the house. you get in the car and start driving. you don't know where your going. but you can't sit in that bedroom waiting for him to come home any longer.

you have never been a drinker, i mean sure you have had a few drinks here and there growing up. but when you passed a bar you couldn't help but feel the need to sit down and have a few.

as you walk in you pick a seat at the edge of the bar far away from everyone and order a shit and a vodka sprite. you hated the taste of alcohol but you didn't seem to mind because you knew that you wouldnt have to deal with my feeling in a short amount of time.

after about two hours of sitting alone repeating the same process, ordering a drink, finishing it as fast as you possibly could, and ordering another one. you got up to leave. when you stood up you immediately fell to my knees realizing that the alcohol that you had been drinking was far to much for my tolerance.

as i walk outside i realize that i have to say to get home, so without even thinking i call matt to ask him for a ride. ring... ring... ring...

"hello! you have reached matt, please leave a message and with will get back to you as soon as possible"

you roll your eyes realizing that he sent me strait to voice mail, you decide that the only way that you can possibly get home without wrecking a car or walking in the freezing cold was to call chris and have him talk to matt for you. so you dial chris's number into your phone but you yet agein get sent strait to voice mail.

you we're down to the last option and that was nick. you called praying that he would answer ring... ring... ri-

"hello?"nick answers

"oh my god! thank you nick" you said trying my hardest to speak clearly.

"y/n, what's wrong? have you been drinking?!" nick asked sounding concerned and disappointed

"yes, in-need you to tell matt that i'm sorry and i know i s-screwed up. but i really- really need a ride home" you said giving up trying not to sound drunk

"one second... MATT" nick yells

"what nick" you could hear matt say on the other side of the phone

"oh my god have you been crying?" nick asks in the other side of the phone causing matt to look concerned.

you feel you heart drop into your stomach hearing those words.

"y/n needs ride home from the bar... she clearly can't drive herself" nick says with a hint of judgement in his voice.

"are you fucking kidding me" matt yells grabbing the phone from nick

"y/n what the fuck were you thinking. where are you"

"down town. please matt i'm sorry i really wanna go home" you say, you can feel the words sluring off of your tongue.

"i'm on my way, give me five minutes. wait outside" matt says

after only three minutes of waiting matt's car pulls up. you quickly jump in, as matt speeds off. nick wasn't wrong, matt had definitely been crying. you touched his face uttering a small im sorry matty under my breath as a lay your head of his lap.

"i know y/n, i am too. i know" matt says stroking your hair.

#sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nathan doe

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zombee · 6 months

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I feel like the luckiest Our Flag Means Death fan in the world after the season 2 finale. By a series of incredible circumstances - including a significant metatextual realization that came in at the 11th hour - it was close to perfect for me.

This essay has everything. Completely normal behavior over a television series. Steven Universe references. The David Jenkins School of Whatever is Best for the Bit. Humbling catharsis.

First: this piece does not exist with the central thesis of “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad.” I feel like thousands of words have already been written on this since Thursday, so I’m going to try to not get too in depth on that.

Second, cards on the table, because it’s relevant and I don’t want to waste your time if this is going to sour your ability to hear me out: I’m an Izzy Canyon hater. For MANY reasons, but from way before the concept of the Canyon existed, (some) Izzy fans pinged me in the same way as Snape/Kylo Ren fans did, and before May 2022 was over I went from genuinely enjoying Izzy’s character and place in the narrative to hating him because his fans made it impossible for me to enjoy him anymore.

(SOME! of his fans. Please don’t keep making me say this, although I’m not going to talk about the Canyon directly anymore after this. I know there are a ton of normal Izzy Enjoyers and even Canyonites, I am literally friends with many of them, please take this all in the good faith it’s intended and if you’re not One Of The Bad Ones then you’re fine! I very carefully don’t go anti-Izzy on main, and when I stopped enjoying his character, I stopped writing him into fics. I’m not trying to be a dick, I just want to be honest. Anyway.)

The season 2 finale made me weep over Izzy Goddamn hands.

ALL season long, I was disgruntled. All season long. I really, truly, DEEPLY appreciated what they were doing with his character and arc, I thought it was wildly on brand for the themes of community/queerness in the show, I saw the vision, I liked it!!! But. I wanted a fucking apology, yall. I needed three seconds of “sorry I called you a slur, Ed :/” and that would have been enough. But I had to let it go. It was poisoning my enjoyment of the whole season, which I loved with very little exception (not none!) and I just had to let it go. I wasn’t getting an apology. That didn’t negate what they were doing with his character.

Yall. They withheld the apology on purpose.

THIS FUCKING SHOW!!!

Let’s go back a bit. I was at the episode 6 + 7 screening, and the breakup shook me. Probably a LOT more than if I had watched it alone in bed at 3am on my laptop - five days of no sleep after NYCC, lots of emotions, seeing it on a big screen with a hundred other intense fans, etc etc - but I did see other folks reacting in parallel ways to me when the episodes aired to the regular public, so maybe I would have felt the same way. Regardless, I was mad at Stede and to a lesser extent Ed. I NEEDED AN APOLOGY FOR THAT FISH LINE. I needed it! “Whativah” autocorrects to “WHATIVAH” in my phone. I was going through it.

(When I rewatched the episode when it aired it was not nearly as bad as I remember, lol)

So now the episode 8 screeners go out and the reviews drop and I think I catch one half-glimpse of a “What a heartbreaking ending!” kind of snippet, and some of my friends who are spoiler fiends unintentionally drop little hints about similar ideas (devastating/heartbreaking/split the fandom) type shit.

And I was a fucking WRECK! about it.

I do love this whole show with my whole chest. I do!!! But I’m not rotted because this is an excellent television show, I’m rotted because two old men kiss each other! On the MOUTH!!! in an excellent television show. You get it, right? I’ve written 700,000 words across almost 100 fics and 98% of them are dedicated to those two men falling in love in different universes.

So it just did not even occur to me the “heartbreak/devastation/fandom split” would be about anything but Gentlebeard.

Another piece of this that was fucking me up - David Jenkins and his “satisfactory” ending biz. My brain was reacting like this show was ENDING ending, even if I knew logically! that this is just season 2!!! And I wasn’t ready for that, because what if it wasn’t personally satisfying, and I’m a mess about it? Why was I so worried about not liking it? I’d liked the whole season! Even if they didn’t nail the landing I wasn’t going to stop writing fic or hanging out with my pirate community & friends.

…is what I kept trying to tell myself, but the way anxiety disorders work is funny like that lol. What if I did stop writing fic and hanging out in pirate spaces? That would hurt much more than a show I like disappointing me. And for anyone who’s having that experience with ofmd s2, I’m so very, very sorry. It sucks and that’s where my epiphany came from on Wednesday before the finale.

Because it has happened to me before.

I flit from hyperfocus to hyperfocus, as ya do when you’re spicy, but the last thing to get its hooks in me PROPERLY like pirates was Steven Universe. And I did NOT like the way the regular season ended!!! (I actually really did like most of Future; that’s not what I mean. I mean season 5). I don’t like how they handled the Diamonds, tldr; I think the scope of their villainy got too out of hand, and I was left grieving the thing that had meant enough to me I ran a fan convention for four years based around it.

Side note: imagine if I had channeled the hyperfocus of almost a million words of fanfiction into an American OFMD con instead. We could have made magic :( I did consult with Our Con Means Death though so I am at least a teeny tiny bit of that one!

I did not like the way Steven ended… but I do respect the story they were telling and think they told it well.

I’m still sad about it. Steven is still one of my most beloved, it will always be beautiful and great to me, but that experience did and does sully my memories. There is so, so, so, SO much more good than bad from being in that fandom, and I cherish it. And I hope, if you’re having this experience with OFMD right now, that you’ll find similar comfort.

But, like I said at the top, “it’s okay to not like something but that’s not the same thing as it being bad” has been belabored already by people better at writing about it than me. I just had the incredible privilege to remember my brush with lower case T trauma and having that experience in my last REALLY big deal fandom. That’s why I had been so extra anxious about being disappointed. Because it happened to me before. It helped so much to connect those two.

So the finale happens, and it’s actually about twelve hours of me going from “eh, rushed but fun, whole season was great” to “THIS MAYBE IS THE BEST SHOW OF ALL TIME, ACTUALLY!”

BECAUSE THIS SHOW MADE ME CRY OVER IZZY FUCKING HANDS!!!!

They literally told me this was the story they were telling this season. “Men can change” “The end of piracy” “Ed leaving Blackbeard behind (ish).”

As for me? I didn’t get an apology for the fish. Instead, I got “Sorry I was a dick.” “You weren’t a dick. Life’s a dick.”

Just… fuckity BAM. THREE FUCKING SENTENCES resolving that fight. Saying so much in so little.

In real life, should these two men have an actual conversation about this shit? Sure!!! But that’s not how OFMD tells its stories!

It works in symbolism. It works in vibes. It works in an hour’s worth of content into each half-hour episode, and for how much lamenting I have done about the pacing, I would prefer that 100x to having to stretch it out too much.

I have said since March 24, 2022 that OFMD wields anachronism as a weapon. First and foremost, it’s fucking funny, but in addition to that, it’s stating clearly: “This is a fantasy world. This is not real history. This show is about romance (and so much more than that), and the rest is just VIBES!!!”

Sometimes vibes can be historical accuracy. Sometimes vibes can be true emotional poignancy. Sometimes vibes can be Ed finding his sunken leathers in the sea, changing underwater somehow, and coming out of the ocean like the Birth of Fucking Venus, because water and rebirth and mermaids and shit is all very prominent this season. And ALSO, and this is very important! BECAUSE IT LOOKS FUCKING COOL!

I don’t want to do much real Izzy meta here. It’s been said by others, and better than me. But it was telegraphed and it was symbolic – he was the paragon of Traditional Piracy in season 1, for goodness’ sake, and Traditional Piracy is Toxic Masculinity, and he was a part of Blackbeard and Ed had to leave Blackbeard behind (yknow, ish), and he got this ABSOLUTLEY FUCKING LOVELY! storyline about appreciating what a (queer) community can do, and god fucking shit fucking dammit… most of all, best of all (for me), was Buttons landing on Izzy’s grave at the end. Men can change. And Izzy DID!!! He did it for Ed. For love. For community. I am puzzled by “it’s fucked up to use Izzy to further Ed’s storyline” because… this was Ed’s season, in the way that season 1 was Stede’s. And Ed cannot be removed from piracy as a whole (neither can Stede!) so to have this old, set in his ways, coded-queerphobic character blossom to the point he can give this gift to Ed and to piracy… idk man. I just find it so fucking beautiful.

It is okay not to like what they did. It’s okay!!! It’s okay, and it’s okay to mourn, and while it’s not okay to do [insert vile behavior here], it’s okay to carefully examine what you think is “bad writing” vs “what you would have preferred to happen” and give good-faith, textually-based criticism on that.

But I want to remind you over and over and over again, this show works on vibes. It tells its stories leaving many, many, many gaps. There are many things I would have liked to see, and y’know what? I would have told the Izzy story differently. I would have personally done it differently. But it’s not my show! It’s not my show, and I am humbled and delighted to remember that, and to appreciate Our Flag Means Death for what it is and not what it isn’t.

Other words have been written better than I could about the 18 months between seasons 1 and 2 and what that does to us as rabid fans with expectations of how things will go. Millions and millions and millions of words have been written about OFMD, fictional and non, and that is going to color our expectations and experience. We had built it up SO MUCH in our minds and along the way I think some of us forgot (INCLUDING ME!!!) that it is first and foremost about Vibes.

The vibes of Izzy’s death are about rebirth and forgiveness and leaving traditional piracy behind. And he got to die in Ed’s arms, knowing (HAPPILY!) that he had been wrong, and giving Ed the gift of letting him know he is loved, and being a part of something. We had a funeral but we also had a wedding. The only constant is change. Men, piracy, Blackbeard; it all changes. And Izzy found peace in that.

Before my last point, I want to @ myself on things I felt versus realizing in the end it is (I will say it until I’m blue in the face) about vibes.

· I was convinced they left Buttons’ transformation ambiguous because they wanted to leave room for it not having been real. NO!!! It is real, until they decided it isn’t. Magic in the OFMD universe? Fucking why not!!! IT’S SYMBOLIC!!! IT’S IMPORTANT TO ED’S STORYLINE AND THE CENTRAL THESES OF THE SHOW!

· I was unhappy, and still am a little, about the Polycule Situation, but now that I realize Oluwande is Zheng’s Stede… I am less so. The Zheng : Auntie :: Ed : Izzy vibes, btw? Fuckin immaculate.

· Obviously they touched on Stede/Ed’s “killing people trauma” but I’d reallyyyy like Stede to address it, and even though I think Ed’s is left on a very satisfying note, I’d like him to dip a bit more into it as well. But if they don’t, oh well! It’s not like they ignored it, they just didn’t have a Deep Dive like I Wanted Them To!

· They didn’t deal with Ed throwing Stede’s shit away. They just ignored it! Stede started to collect new trinkets, and I believe that was as much about giving the audience back the old feeling of the Revenge as it was anything important (not to say it wasn’t also important thematically!!!). Just like Ed going back to his leathers is both Extremely Important thematically and about putting Taika back in the leathers because that’s what Blackbeard should be wearing for the epic final scenes for the sake of visually keeping the show consistent. That’s Blackbeard’s uniform.

· Stede’s frilly little outfits my beloved. God I hope they give him back some of his frippery in season 3. I think they will re: cursed suit BUT his journey this season was about something else, so!

· Ed’s stupid little non-profit non-apology, oh my god. It was so funny. And there is a transition from eps 5 to 6 where Ed is back in his leathers and the crew is more comfortable around him. They didn’t have to have him do a Real Apology, it’s implied it was all settled. What was the timeline? A day? DOESN’T MATTER, BABY, VIBES!!!

· Lots more, I’m sure, but now that I’ve tried to let it all go, I’m remembering less of what I wanted and appreciating what I got!

And, last point here, I think it is also very very very important to remember that a lot of people are normal about this show. In fact, WAY more people are normal about this show than aren’t. And that is EXTREMELY! IMPORTANT!!! because otherwise it wouldn’t be profitable and we all know what would happen then. We are the core of it, to be sure. Without word of mouth that stems from our intensity, this show would not be NEARLY as successful as it is. I truly, truly believe that.

But.

Do normies need deeply emotional discussions dissecting the central relationships? No. What normies need is Ed and Stede running dramatically toward each other on the beach and kissing. And I am happy, so fucking happy, to realize that’s what I need too. I’ve got fanworks for the rest.

I love this fucking show and this fucking fandom and its fucking creators so much. Fuck.

#our flag means death #ofmd #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2

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jaegeraether · 5 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 31)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (29)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN eventually managed to find a car park and carefully park Lucy’s car. Still no phone call. It was now 6pm.

She turned the car off and sighed her stress, placing her head on the steering wheel. She didn't want to text, and now she didn’t want to call. Was Lucy ashamed that she’d been caught on camera with Ona? Was their relationship more serious than she realised and Lucy just didn’t know how to tell her? Was she just a convenient fling in England for her? Perhaps an easy break without emotional complications was for the best.

“You’re okay,” she whispered to herself. She heard her tears hit the centre of the steering wheel. “You’re going to be okay. This is why we don’t let people in, Blue.” She sniffled. “It hurts right now but we’re going to be fine. We always are.”

Talking to herself out loud always helped her when she was a kid, trying to understand the strong, scared emotions her father stirred in her, and she’d carried that on into adulthood.

She sniffed again and lifted her head, wiping her tears and attempting a smile for her colleagues. She knew that if she stayed in that car, she’d just fall further into that emotional wreck, and so she grabbed her equipment and entered the stadium.

The game hadn’t even begun yet, it was scheduled for 6:45pm, so she had time to get through security with her pass and head to the bathroom where she tidied herself up and made the decision to take Lucy’s hoodie off, and switch to a Lumos hoodie. It just felt like the right thing to do. She folded it carefully and placed it in her workbag, with the intention of leaving it at Lucy’s apartment that night. She figured it would make sense to leave the keys there as well, though her main concern was the car. She didn’t have one.

YFN: Hi Joe, any chance I can take you up on that previous offer for a work vehicle?

Joe was always working. She replied almost instantly.

Joe: Absolutely! I’ll get onto that first thing in the morning.

Joe: Also, I’ve had a look through the footage from tonight. It’s excellent.

YFN: Thank you, I appreciate it.

YFN: You picked some incredibly talented people for the job.. I can already see a need for a lot more people.

Joe: Just let me know what you need. I have a lot of faith in this.

YFN knew Joe was someone who poured her heart and soul into whatever she did. She was intelligent and a smart businesswoman, though the words from the twat, Mark, at the Charity Event had stuck with her. She knew she had to ask Joe what he’d meant when he’d mentioned “the controversy she brings”, though she knew it was best for another night, and perhaps not over message.

YFN: I do too. I was also roped into doing our first interview with a few of the Arsenal and City players. I’ll send you the rough footage now.

Joe: Looking forward to it!

YFN sent the footage and entered pitch side where the teams were warming up and was happy that the weather wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been the previous matches. Emily spotted her first and came over to chat about the best photo spots, while Bridget was scouting around the entire edging of the pitch the find the best video positions. She eventually looped back around to them to join in on the work discussions.

It was during their discussions that YFN noticed a photographer taking footage of them all together. She’d never been to Broadfield Street Stadium before and so she assumed it was perhaps someone from media for one of the teams, however he was incredibly persistent and focussed on the Lumos trio. YFN didn’t want to worry the girls, and so she finished up their discussions and let them get back to getting footage of the players during their warms ups.

As warm-ups finished, YFN took a few final photos of the teams and looked down at the images, proud of the action shots. It was then that she noticed Mary Earps walking over to her. She’d spoken to Mary at the pub quite a lot, having been introduced through the England squad. She was the goalkeeper for Man United, and for the Lionesses. Mary, Queen of Stops.

“Hey, you! Good to see you! How are you mate?” She went straight in for a hug. Mary was lovely and caring, as always.

“Hey Mary. I’m great besides the very long day I’m having.” She laughed. “You were looking pretty solid in warm ups.”

“Aw thanks mate!” She said enthusiastically, hands still on her shoulders and giving her a little shake.

“I have no idea how you jump so high or so quick and the speed that you get up… I was worn out just watching you!”

She laughed at that. “Aw you’re too kind..” then she whispered, “I’ll give you a tenner later.”

YFN rolled her eyes. “Still struggling to accept compliments, I see!”

“Always mate. It’s just so awkward! Anyways, you girls are looking so cute in your little merch. Any chance I could have a beanie?”

“Oh course.” YFN chuckled and grabbed a beanie from her merch bag before putting it on the keeper herself. “Look at that!”

“Do I look cute?” She asked cheekily. “I look cute, don’t I?”

“You’re adorable.” She laughed. “Do they put you up in hotel overnight for these late night games?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ve booked us in London though so it’s a bit of a travel. Late night for us. Where are you staying?”

“London also.” She shrugged. “We probably won’t be home until 11pm.”

Mary groaned and she joined in. They bantered for a little longer until Mary was called into the training rooms and ran away excitedly with her little beanie on.

The game was fairly evenly matched, which was a surprise as Man United were a notoriously a hard team to beat. Because it was so back and forth, the Lumos crew including YFN found themselves running up and down the field for the best footage. It was almost comical. Almost.

At half time, Brighton were up 1-0 and Mary looked disappointed in herself, regardless of the fact that she’d made some incredible saves. Following the break, there was a 2nd yellow given to yet another United player, and it wasn’t until both teams had made multiple substitutions that the next goal was scored, and it was a United goal. 10 minutes later Brighton scored their 2nd, however United managed to equalise again in over time, ending it in a 2-2 draw.

The whole game was entertaining, especially watching Mary have to make so many saves, but also uncomfortable as YFN kept noticing that one photographer who was still taking photos of Lumos around the pitch. She didn’t understand until when they were nearing the end of the game, and she saw a businessman in a suit talking to the photographer and pointing to her. She hadn’t recognised him as he walked down from the crowd, but she had when she saw them talking a little closer to her. It was Mark. Mark from the Charity Event. The one who had basically warned her about Joe without actually warning her. He looked up from his photographer and caught YFN’s eye. Usually it would be normal to smile and wave, but he didn’t. He simply stared with an expression on his face that she couldn’t decipher. Whatever it was, it wasn’t positive.

From then on, she tried to move further away, working her way around the edge of the pitch, however the photographer was always close behind, following her. She felt uneasy, however she was glad he was focussed on her and not her colleagues. She tried to keep him far away from them.

At the end of the game, Mary came back over for her usual, friendly chat and brought Katie Zelem and Ella Toone with her. They were all Lionesses, having played in major tournaments together, and she'd met them all at the pub, so it was a great, natural banter they had about the game. Somehow, she was also roped into doing an interview with the three of them, after Mary had seen that she’d interviewed others and insisted on it, fakely threatening favouritism if YFN didn’t. Bridget came over, they set them up with mics and the ‘interview’ was basically a good chat about all things in the match. YFN realised how much she loved the dynamic of interviewing multiple players who would tease each other and bounce off each other. It was the perfect, relaxed setting. She also made sure to not ask too many questions about the game, preferring that the girls talk about whatever they wanted to about the game to avoid the typical media response. It wasn’t lost on her, however, that Mark’s photographer was filming everything. She put on a brave face for the camera, smiling and laughing with the girls, but felt uneasy.

They all parted ways and Bridget, Emily and YFN didn’t hang around long as they’d all had long days. It was now 9:30pm and they still had a 90 minute drive back to London. They agreed to do their editing tomorrow and call it a night. As YFN entered the car, the hair on the back of her neck stood up as she saw a car parked behind her, on and idling, as if waiting for her to leave. It was strange because most of the car park was already empty, and it was right behind her. One look in the driver’s seat and she could see who it was. The photographer.

She tried to keep her fear under control as she entered Lucy’s car and locked the doors. She immediately felt better but that all went away when she found herself on the M23 being followed.

She told herself to calm down and that they were probably taking a different exit, but they weren’t. They followed her to the M25 and all the way back to towards Lucy’s apartment.

YFN was starting to get scared and ran a cheeky orange light to lose them, which worked. She parked up Lucy’s car and entered the apartment, feeling like she didn’t belong. She turned the lights on and put the keys down near the entrance as she wandered into the beautifully modern place with her overnight bag over her shoulder. She looked around briefly and was reminded of the few happy memories. Sex here. Flirting there. Making out here. Massaging Lucy’s knee there. Making breakfast there.

She shook her head as if it would remove those memories and entered the guest bedroom. She couldn’t bring herself to use Lucy’s bedroom. The one they’d cuddled in and done much worse things in. She unpacked the few items from her overnight bag and looked at the time. Just after 11pm. She needed sleep. She quickly showered and then got dressed into a pair of pajama shorts and a loose top by itself, no bra. And socks, of course. She always needed socks.

She went to get some water and then found herself fighting a losing battle and letting curiosity and her emotions get the better of her as she entered Lucy’s room. She didn’t pry, she just… looked. Remembered. Then she went into the bathroom which was still filled with Lucy’s face care all lined up and… a blue toothbrush. Like the one she’d left at Jordan’s. YFN picked it up slowly and stared at it before her lips trembled and she gave in to those emotions from the previous few days.

“You’re okay.” She whispered to herself in between sobs. “You’re okay… it’ll pass, remember? You’ve got this.”

Suddenly she heard the front door and ran out as far as Lucy’s bedroom door to see the front door handle shaking, someone palying with the lock. The photographer? Or Mark? She didn’t call out because that would be an admittance that she was in fact there in the apartment. Instead her reaction was to close Lucy’s bedroom door quietly and then move into her bathroom, shutting that and entering the shower. None of the doors had locks and she’d never been more frustrated or scared in her life. She stood in the shower with her back to the corner of the wall, and looked down at the blue toothbrush that was her only form of defence. She couldn’t fight a man.. especially with her being so small.

She heard footsteps and could feel her body shaking as the bathroom door swung open.

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #jordan nobbs #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #engwnt #lionesses #lucy bronze imagine #woso x reader

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221bshrlocked · 14 days

Text

Broken and Grazed, Loved and Saved

Pairing: Crosshair x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 4724

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Mentions of violence and blood. Touching Confessions! Angst to fluff because you know it. Crosshair being a tiny bit soft...just a tiny bit.

Summary: You get shot while trying to save Crosshair. He's shocked and confused as to why you would do such a thing. You both slowly reveal your feelings for each other as he patches you up.

A/N: I crawled back from my writer's block hell hole to post this. This is during The Clone Wars series folks, hence the Jedi insert. Once again, thank you so much to @cloneficgiftexchange for holding this event and single-handedly getting me to write every once in a while. This is for the lovely @arctrooper69 who inadvertently gave me a challenge with Crosshair. I hope you enjoy it babes and I hope I got his character down correctly. This is the first time I write for him. As always, let me know how I am doing in the comments please and thank you.

When Obi-Wan informed you that you’d be accompanying Clone Force 99 on another mission, you tried your best to not let your excitement come through. But one look at your old friend and the smirk on his face made you realize you may not have been as subtle as you originally thought.

“Shut it Kenobi,” you walk past him, shaking your head when you briefly glanced to the side and saw him raising an eyebrow at you. He chuckles at your embarrassment, and you’re torn between making fun of him and letting him be. It was rare to see him display such an elated emotion, and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him when finally caught up with you and patted you on the back.

“In all seriousness, do be careful out there.” A worried expression breaks through the smile and you nod at him, knowing that the sentiment wasn’t one of warning but deep concern for your safety.

“As weird as it is to admit this, I feel like I might potentially be safest with them.” You come to a stop once you reach the door of the Temple, looking around the awfully quiet space before returning your attention to Obi-Wan once more.

“I would have to disagree with you there. The rate at which they use explosives is severely higher than any other force I have fought alongside. Nevertheless, I trust your judgment. Do keep me updated, yes?” When you don’t respond right away, Obi-Wan follows your line of sight and notices where your attention suddenly lies. He groans to himself and wishes he wasn’t the keeper of so many secrets.

“Young one!?” You snap out of your momentary haze when Obi-Wan quite literally yells at you, his voice carrying across the grounds and catching the curiosity of none other than the man you found yourself barely able to stop thinking of.

“Sorry, yes?” You feign ignorance, giggling like a young padawan when Obi-Wan rubs his temples and swears beneath his breath.

“I’m only joking. Yes I will be careful, sure I’ll try my best not to get into trouble, and of course I won’t partake in Wrecker’s booming tactics. Satisfied?” You don’t wait for him to respond, already walking towards the Marauder and praying to the Force that the introvert of the group is less hostile towards you this time around. When you grow near to the clones standing at the foot of the ramp, you turn around one last time and wave goodbye to Obi-Wan, laughing when he rolls his eyes at you and heads back into the Temple. As soon as you turn around, you’re met with an incredibly energetic Wrecker, your shock turning into hysterical laughter as soon as he wraps his arms around you and picks you up.

“Heyyy, it’s our favorite Jedi!” His grip on you remains gentle even though he’s lifted you off of the ground a good bit.

“Hey Wrecker, I see you missed me as much as I missed you.” You gently tap him on his shoulder, hoping he’d put you down before any other Jedi sees how familiar you are with him.

“Wreck, put the General down.” You glance to the side and see Hunter standing with his hands on his hips, his facial expression a bit unreadable. You laugh nervously at the leader of the Bad Batch, hoping Wrecker wouldn’t get in trouble because of your friendliness.

To his chagrin, Wrecker puts you down and backs away, whispering a few apologies before returning to stand next to Tech.

“Sorry, I know I shouldn’t encourage it.” You tell Hunter as the two of you walk away from the rest of the Batch, your eyes unintentionally remaining on your favorite member of the group. If Hunter notices how you pay more attention to Crosshair, he says nothing of it and pretends you weren’t watching him like a hawk.

“No need for any apologies, General. I don’t particularly care but I know how things are on Coruscant. Wouldn’t want him to be misunderstood.” Hunter points towards the Clones standing around the Temple with other Jedi Masters, smiling nervously at you when you sigh anxiously at the prospect of being the reason behind Wrecker potentially getting in trouble.

“I promise to talk to him. And I’ll make sure to only be friendly when we’re not surrounded by…you know.” You try to laugh off the circumstances you find yourself in, only for Hunter’s body language to shift at the implications behind your words.

“I’d be careful if I were you. Even if they aren’t around, others tend to misunderstand and- well, let’s just say that things get a little heated when we finish a mission and you aren’t on-board anymore.” You furrow your eyebrows at Hunter’s response, only to follow his line of sight and see who he’s staring at. When you’re met with Crosshair’s narrowed, irritated eyes shifting between you and Wrecker, you realize that Hunter may know more than he let on.

“I- I don’t think you-” You trip over your words, unsure of how to respond now that Hunter knew of your inclinations as well.

“Save it, I’m not judging…just giving you a heads up.” He excuses himself, saying something or other to Tech as the two of them ascend the Marauder. You look to the ground as you make your way to the ship, afraid of making eye contact with any of the others out of fear of making things more awkward. Even as you walk past Crosshair, you ignore him completely, pretending to fix the lightsaber hanging from your belt so you don’t have to deal with him now. As soon as you go to the cockpit, you throw a quick hello to Echo and walk back, pushing through the supplies scattered around so you can sit in the small space at the end of the ship.

Even though you want to sit near Crosshair, you decide against it, knowing that you don’t have the capacity to deal with his passive aggressive comments now. You haven’t seen him in a long while, and there’s nothing you wish to do more than be near him, even if the two of you were to remain silent. But if the conversation with Hunter proved anything, it’s the fact that Crosshair was begging to pick a fight right now. You just didn’t want it to be with you.

Taking a deep breath, you do your best to center yourself and ignore the whispers and murmurs traveling from the cockpit. You manage a fair job for most of the flight, but the closer you get to the Outer Rim planet, you vaguely hear your name thrown around between Hunter, Tech and Wrecker. You know better than to listen to what they’re saying, and before you can decide on whether or not you should ignore them, Wrecker stands up and grumbles something louder than the others would have preferred.

“She doesn’t mind! You’re just telling me what to do because Crosshair won’t listen to you and talk to her.” Your eyes shoot wide open at his words, and as you turn around to face them, you see all of their expressions turn blank. Wrecker only recognizes just how loud he is when he faces you and sees a quizzical look on your features. He chuckles nervously and sits down as Echo makes his way towards you.

“Sorry about that, we know how much you like to meditate.” He sits down beside you, glaring quickly at Wrecker so he doesn’t accidentally give anything else away.

“It’s okay, it’s not like I was getting much meditation done anyway. You guys whisper pretty loudly.”

“You mean you- could you hear us this whole time?” Echo asks, the direct gaze you offer him letting him know that yes, you could certainly hear what they were going on about this whole time.

“You know then.” It was more of a comment than a question, but you shrug your shoulders at him regardless, unsure of whether they were telling the truth or just reading into the interactions between you and Crosshair. Before you can respond however, you feel the ship drop out of hyperspace and into the atmosphere of the planet.

“Another time Echo,” you ignore the pleading look on Echo’s face, not wanting to continue this conversation now that the mission officially commenced. Making your way to the front of the ship, you look across the yellow planet below you and sigh in irritation when you notice the storms forming just above the surface.

“Did you know that Eshil is one of three desert planets that receives frequent rain? Rain storms are often violent here, delivering up to seven millimeters per minute. It is more likely for one to drown down there than to die of thirst.” The ease with which Tech spoke made you giggle, and you couldn’t help but thank him politely for the unsolicited knowledge when you saw Wrecker and Echo glare at him worryingly.

“Don’t worry big guy, nothing will happen to you on my watch.” You pat Wrecker on the back as you begin your descent onto Eshil, and before you can attempt to calm him down a little, the Marauder begins to shake violently due to the rain and thunderstorms. In a moment of distraction, you lose your balance and fly backward, suddenly feeling a pair of slim fingers grab onto your waist to prevent you from falling. Thinking it’s Hunter who just saved you, you turn around to thank him, only to find a pair of steel, hazel eyes staring dead at you.

The faint gasp doesn’t go unnoticed by Crosshair, nor does the disappointed look you throw at him when he lets go so he can push you into one of the seats.

“Don’t hurt yourself, Jedi.” His tone is mocking in a way, but you don’t dwell too much on it and instead look around to see if anyone noticed the little interaction. Everyone is blissfully unaware of the tense moment you shared with Crosshair, and even though you can feel his eyes on you, you choose to avoid his gaze, afraid he would see how much of an effect he has on you.

It takes too long to your liking to land, not because you didn’t like the turbulence, but because you couldn’t stand being in close proximity with Crosshair any longer. An hour ago, you were excited to join the team, wanting nothing more than to try and get closer to Crosshair, or at the very least, figure out why he’s always more passive aggressive with you than with anyone else. But after the not-so-subtle comment from Hunter, and the rather awkward conversation you overheard, you couldn’t finish this mission and be back on Coruscant fast enough. Somehow, knowing that the animosity was a product of mutual feelings made things worse.

No, not worse. That wasn’t the right word.

Real. It made things real. It made things more accessible, which meant that the probability of anything happening was simultaneously high and low.

“We’re here,” Hunter’s announcement is a welcomed distraction, and you wait until everyone stands aside to review the plan before jumping out of the Marauder. The rain comes down harsher than you’ve anticipated but you take a few seconds to appreciate it regardless, knowing that it wasn’t everyday you experienced rain caused by clean, natural clouds. It was so much different than Coruscant, strangely soothing as it seeped through your clothes and kissed your cheeks.

The cool sensation suddenly shifts into a warmer breeze, causing your eye muscles to clench tightly in confusion. The feeling engulfs you almost like a hug, and you’re not sure how or why it becomes hotter with each passing second. It’s only when you open your eyes and glance to the side that you finally understand why you were being flooded with such intensity. You quickly avert your gaze as soon as you notice Crosshair’s embarrassment when he realizes that you’ve caught him staring at you.

“Alright fellas, listen up. Our mission is simple: infiltrate the base undetected, retrieve the classified intel from their innermost vaults, exfiltrate before they even know we’re there. Stay sharp and Wrecker…no explosives unless I say so.” Hunter points firmly at the bigger clone, and you almost giggle when you see the hint of a grin appearing on his face.

“Awww man!” Wrecker throws his hands up in the air, walking away and crossing his arms when he sees you approaching him.

“Don’t worry big guy, there’s always a next time.” You pat him on the back, laughing to yourself when he retorts at you like a child.

“That’s what you said last time.”

“But I really mean it this time,” you twist your head down until you can get a better look at him, and when you meet his eyes, you watch as he tries his best to not crack a smile in return. When he does, you walk past him and stay behind Hunter as he slowly moves through the barren land. The closer you get to the compound though, the more you become uneasy at your lack of cover, but before you can say anything, the rain begins to come down harder than you thought it possible, making you squint to try and see where everyone is.

“I guess that should do the trick!” You hear Echo scream from behind you, but the sentiment makes you uncomfortable. The idea of losing the rest of them before you even make it to the enemy line is disconcerting, and you make your way towards Hunter quickly. When he sees you approaching him, he stops and waits for you to catch up.

“Follow my lead and make sure everyone keeps their helmets on so they can see.” You throw the hood of your cloak over your head a little further, the action not helping one bit as the water continues to crash down on you like a waterfall.

“When we get there-”

“I’ll signal for Echo so he can unlock the doors.” Waiting until he nods in agreement, you continue your journey towards the compound, praying to the maker that the enemy’s visibility is as bad as yours. The trek to the compound takes longer than you like, but when you finally have it in sight, you turn around and wait for the others to reach you. Hunter and Tech are ahead of everyone, and you squint hard until you can see Echo and Wrecker behind them. When Crosshair doesn’t show right away, you begin to worry, afraid that the rain became less of an inconvenience and more of a trigger to him. You’re about to run past the guys when you finally see him walking through the heavy downfall, no longer holding his firearm in his hands and instead taking his time as he walks towards the rest of the team. Even though you can’t see his expression, you know for a fact that Hunter is smirking beneath his mask, and you choose to ignore him as you go back to the front of the Batch and walk closer to the compound.

“There aren’t any guards posted outside. The storm must have sent everyone back inside.” You make a note, signaling for Echo to move ahead of you while the others wait a little farther away in case things don’t go according to plan. Anxiety washes over you all of a sudden, and you glance at the only member of the Batch you know dislikes the rain more than anyone. If Crosshair notices the way you’re staring at him worryingly, he says nothing and keeps his attention on your surroundings, ready to fire at anyone who comes in the way.

When Echo unlocks the door, Tech follows after and heads straight towards the secured vaults at the heart of the compound. It’s quieter than you expect, but you figure it’s only because the storm continues to rage outside and grow louder by the second. As you move towards the vault however, you find the silence nearly deafening, and you wonder briefly if this entire mission could be a set-up. Before you can voice your concerns to Hunter, Tech gains access to the room with ease, already getting to work for the intel with Echo. You stand guard outside while Hunter and Wrecker scout the hallways and ensure you don’t have any visitors.

Using the distraction to your advantage, you slowly make your way to Crosshair and stand beside him, waiting until he acknowledges your presence with a glance before attempting to break the awkward air around the two of you.

“I hope the rain isn’t too much of a bother.” You’re not sure what else to say, and as you realize he won’t be responding any time soon, you figure it’s best to not try and fix whatever it is between the two of you now. Knowing that it will be even more uncomfortable if you walk away from him, you remain standing where you are, turning your attention to Tech and Echo to see if they’re almost done.

The abrupt sound of guns firing pushes you forward immediately, and you watch as several weapons descend from the ceiling and the walls, instantly firing at everyone in the room. You make your way to the nearest wall and burn through the small firearms with your lightsaber, watching as Crosshair hits several more on the opposite side of the wall while Tech and Echo extract the intel.

“I knew it was too quiet.” You mutter to yourself, running as fast as you can across the space to get as many of the little suckers as possible. When there aren’t any left, you sheath your weapon again and move towards the door.

“Time to head out,” Hunter screams across the hallway and as you file out, you sense movement at one of the corners of the room. It’s instinctive the way you run towards Crosshair and shield him with your body, and your curse at yourself for not ensuring that all of them were taken down. Anger seeps through your mind at what could have been a fatal mistake and you ignite your saber instantly, propelling it towards the small object and bringing it back into the palm of your hand as more smoke fills the room.

“We need to leave, now.” Your voice is stern, and even though you can see Crosshair staring at where you’ve just been shot, you don’t pay him any mind as you run through the winding hallways and make your way out of the compound. It’s somehow raining even harder than earlier, and you feel your body grow more faint with each step you take. The faster you try to run, the more unbearable the pain becomes, and it occurs to you that you would be no good to any of them if you slowed them down.

You come to a stop and haunch over, applying pressure against your stomach and wincing in pain when more blood oozes through your fingers. Thinking that they’re all ahead of you, you kneel down and allow the rain to become less of an inconvenience and more of a calming presence.

“What are you doing?” Crosshair hisses as he comes up behind you, and when you lock contact with his eyes, you regret not pushing yourself harder.

“I’m fine…go!” You hope your voice isn’t as wavering to his ears as it is to your own, and when he shakes his head, you attempt to stand to confront him, only to fall back to the ground again.

“Tech, bring the ship to my position.” You cruse yet again as Crosshair pushes a button on the side of his helmet while speaking to Tech.

“Why have you stopped?” You can hear Hunter ask through the comms, and you look at Crosshair again, silently begging him to leave so he doesn’t get hurt.

“The General’s been compromised.” He leans down and pushes your hands aside to inspect the wound, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think that he was angry at you for getting shot…for saving him.

“You need to go to the Marauder. That’s an order.” You hiss in pain when you feel him bring your hand back to your stomach and push on it harder than before.

“You’re currently bleeding all over the floor. You’re in no shape to give me orders…General.” He’s pushing your buttons, but unlike before, when he smirked at every snarky comment he threw your way and chuckled when you retorted in likeness, his voice is laced with unspoken feelings now, as if he was silently thanking you for what you did for him.

Before you can dwell too much on the change in his behavior, the Marauder lands right beside you, allowing you a moment of respite before Wrecker comes down the ramp and takes you in his arms. The jolting movements make you cough as your stomach throbs in pain, and you take one last look at Crosshair, finding his expression as irritated as when you were on your way here.

To his credit, Wrecker does try to be more slow and soft with his movements, but when he lays you down, you can’t help but scream in agony at the wound tearing through your skin.

“S-sorry.” You shake your head at Wrecker and assure him with a smile, only to drop it when Tech comes with a medkit and asks his brother to give you some privacy.

“I do apologize General but I must cut your robe to administer the bacta spray and patches properly.” Ever the gentleman, Tech waits for your consent before taking out a pair of scissors. He’s about to cut through your robes when Crosshair walks in and stands behind him.

“If you can wait out-”

“I’ll do it.” Crosshair doesn’t give Tech a chance to finish his request, and when he stands up to argue with him, you reach for Tech’s hand and nod at him, waiting until he places everything down before moving towards the front of the ship.

You’re sure Crosshair didn’t think this far ahead because he remains standing and doesn’t once turn his sight away from your wound.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.” You break the silence and push your head back as the wound continues to burn. It must be all Crosshair needs to hear because he gets right to business, not once saying anything to you as he rips through your robes and begins to disinfect the flesh around the gash. You hiss and instantly slam your hand against his thigh, digging your nails into the plastoid covering him as he sterilizes the laceration to prevent any infection.

“What were you thinking?” It’s the first time he’s ever spoken to you so softly, and you figure it’s because you’re hurt and can’t respond in likeness. But when you open your eyes and look at him, you’re shocked to find worry and fear swimming in his hazel brown orbs. It throws you off a little, and you shake the thoughts aside, knowing that you may just be reading too much into his behavior.

“At the time, I thought it was a great idea!” You chuckle only to curse out loud when he begins to apply the bacta spray on top of the wound. You think he’ll smile at catching you off guard, but when you look at him again, he’s as somber as a few seconds ago.

“And now?” Crosshair growls at you, actually growls, the sound coming as a shock to you. It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, he was attempting to show you that he cares, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. When he stops what he’s doing and continues to keep his gaze on you, you lay your head back down and allow the subsiding pain to calm you a little.

“Maybe…maybe not so much.” He narrows his eyes at you then, the expression becoming a little too intense for you and making you turn away to face the wall. Not another word is exchanged between you and him, and as he finally places the bacta patches on your stomach, you turn to face him again, no longer able to keep playing whatever game he started.

“Thank you, for not leaving…for staying with me.” Crosshair continues to remain silent, his focus completely on the wound he was dressing.

“And thank you for patching me up.” Again, he doesn’t acknowledge any of your words, waiting until he’s sure the wound is perfectly protected before throwing everything back into the medkit. You think he’s about to leave but when he finally looks up, you notice his eyebrows relax as he lets out a deep breath.

“Why would you do that?”

The question catches you off guard, and you figure you may as well tell him how you feel because you’re not sure what will happen tomorrow.

“You know why.” The simple whisper holds a thousand confessions, and Crosshair clenches his jaw tightly as he reaches for your hand. You gasp at the warmth of his skin, and swallow the lump in your throat when he grabs a wet towel and begins to clean the dried blood. You’re not sure how long you hold your breath, but when he’s done, he doesn’t let go. In fact, he does the opposite, bringing both of his rough palms around your own and keeping it as close to him as possible.

“I- I’m not worth your-” The sentiment breaks your heart and you furrow your eyebrows at him as you attempt to sit up, not wanting him to finish whatever he was about to say. The stinging returns a thousandfold but you ignore the shooting pain and pull Crosshair towards you.

“Don’t ever say that.” You want to say more. You want to tell him that you’d gladly do it again to ensure his safety, that you wouldn’t give it a second thought because you care for him more than you’re allowed, more than he’ll ever know. But the way he looks at you makes it difficult to say anything else, and you lay back down again when your muscles beg you for some respite. Crosshair doesn’t let go of your hand. If anything, his hold on you tightens as he moves to sit closer to you.

“It was annoying.” Whatever you thought he was going to say is certainly not those three words, and the confusion etched on your face makes him crack a smile before finally looking from your hand to you.

“The rain.” You look at him for what feels like hours before you finally register what he was trying to tell you.

“Wow, it took me getting shot at for you to finally answer my question…an hour later?” The joke doesn’t sit too well with him and you apologize quickly, afraid he’d get up and leave you all alone.

“I- I didn’t think you’d…” The words die in his throat, and you look down at where your hands are intertwined, wanting to give him some privacy as he comes to terms with what he was feeling, what he was oversharing with you.

“Remember?” You finish for him, smiling when he nods quietly and begins to trace the lines across the back of your hand.

“I remember everything you tell me, Crosshair.” Once again, the simple response is laced with too many revelations to your liking, but you know you’d never forgive yourself if you didn’t use this moment to show him how much you care.

How much you love him.

He looks at you then, about to say something when he sees your face twist at the returning stinging sensations.

“You need to rest.” His voice is firm, making you wish you weren’t hurt and could actually make whatever this is last longer.

“Will you be here when I wake up?” Before, you would have been annoyed with yourself for being so vulnerable in front of him, but the question must be the one thing he needed to hear because he smiles softly at you before nodding in silence, bringing his chair a little closer to you can rest your arm better as you keep holding his hands.

“Sleep, cyare. I’ll protect you.”

#crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #crosshair x jedi!reader #crosshair tbb x reader #crosshair tbb x jedi!reader #crosshair the bad batch #fluffy crosshair #angsty crosshair #TBBE24

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creedslove · 10 months

Text

HEARTLESS 💔 - PART EIGHT

Agent Whiskey (Jack Daniels) x f!reader

Summary: You finally allow Jack to step into his father role but he's brokenhearted to see he's not going to be more than that

(this is the eighth chapter of the HEARTLESS 💔 series)

Warnings: sexual tension, angst, hurt, fluff, mom!reader

A/N: another chapter that I have absolutely no idea how you guys will react, but I hope you all enjoy it besties ❤️

3.5k words

"I beg you for a second chance, sugar"

Shock ran through your whole body as you heard Jack's words. Some part of you didn't want to give him the time of the day, but another part just had to hear what he had to say, he seemed desperate for a moment, the way his sad eyes watched you, begging you for a chance to be heard, a chance to be the father of your son, and a chance to be with you again.

Your heart broke.

He needed that, he needed to have your attention for a while, even if he wasn't worthy of it, you couldn't deny him that, so you sighed heavily the moment he gripped your wrist making sure you wouldn't escape him while he confessed his words. Honestly, you expected another load of empty apologizes disguised in a sweet voice that held no truth, only for Jack to restart his batch of cruelty by insulting you whenever you didn't meet any of his absurd demands. You had already prepared yourself for another round of Jack being obnoxious and offending you as soon as you didn't give him, your emotional walls were up again, but Jack came in like a wrecking ball tumbling them down, when he confessed everything to you.

"I-" it was all you could say. All you could whisper at him, watching as his eyes full of hope stared at you eagerly, needing an answer, he had exposed himself so you would see the truth behind his actions and it pained you to think he was pouring his feelings out because everyone knew Jack Daniels would never bring his deceased wife and unborn son into a conversation if he didn't mean it.

You were caught by surprise, still unsure of what to do or what to say, so you only took your hand to his cheek, the same place you hit him earlier that morning, but this time your touch was gentle and at some extent offering comfort. You felt a pang in your chest at the way Jack leaned towards your touch, looking for more of it, more contact and affection from you. It hurt to see how Wyatt did exactly the same thing. Jack swallowed and you had to face those sad, beautiful, brown eyes, glistening with the tears he held back.

"Jack… I'm sorry about everything that happened, about you getting injured, about your first family…" you told him honestly "I had no idea…" you swallowed "I'm glad Ginger saved your ass, I wouldn't like to see you dead" you smiled sadly and he took your hand, giving you a happy smile in response to your sad one and kissed your hand gently.

"I need to think about what you asked me, is that okay?" You said and watched as he nodded, being understanding and finally seeing his way back into your heart - or at least your life with your son - was being gentle, decent and nice to you.

You excused yourself and exited his room, heading back to yours and lying in bed - not before stopping by your son's new bedroom and feeling your heart filled with love as he slept so peacefully without a care in the world. You envied him. Wyatt was so unaware of the problems around him, he was so innocent and happy, anything really made him excited and got the giggles going and you wished you could be like that, you wished you could just close your eyes and have a peaceful night of sleep, forget about everything that worried you and rest your head against your pillow.

Each time you closed your eyes, however, your conversation with Jack replayed in your mind over and over, making you restless and anxious, as you had an answer but you didn't know how to explain it to him. If it were just a few hours before, you would've loved to rub it in his face a negative answer, but now things had changed again. You weren't happy about it, but you knew you had to do the right thing; and as much as your plan was to wait until the morning to do so, you simply couldn't fall asleep, couldn't relax, the tension and the anxiety keeping you wary and wide awake, not able to simply appreciate the comfortable bed you were in. You tossed and turned, not finding a comfortable position, the blankets seemed to sting your skin and you groaned annoyed.

So you simply got up, and walked back to Jack's room.

You figured he would be as anxious and tense as you, so it wouldn't be too bad to possibly wake him up, as you hesitantly walked through the hallway and once again opened the door to Wyatt's room to find him sleeping peacefully once more, you gathered the courage you needed to in order to talk to Jack, it was about your son's future after all and Wyatt deserved the best you and his dad could afford, both financially and also emotionally. He deserved to have a family, a father and a mother, even if they weren't together like the families he often saw in his movies and cartoons, he deserved the option, to have the right to see his cowboy daddy, to go to his fancy ranch on the weekends and spends special dates with Jack, even if it meant you would have to be around, it would still be worthy because your son would be happy and his happiness and well-being were everything you wished for ever since he was born.

You finally got to Jack's room and knocked on the door softly, looking over the walls and then down onto the floor, waiting for the man. You felt your heart race for absolutely no reason, it's not like you would find him with a woman inside, but at the same time it felt so weird, you'd slept in that room with him, it used to be your room. You'd slept, fucked, made love, exchanged promises for the future and like a thin glass, it all shattered without a warning. You heard his steps coming from inside, just as you'd guessed, he wasn't asleep at all, so it didn't take long for him to open the door to you.

But you gasped.

Because as soon as the door was open, you could watch Jack Daniels, also known as Senior Agent Whiskey, displaying his great shape in his almost naked glory, wearing nothing but a pair of very tight black boxers. You knew Jack often slept with his boxers on or nothing at all, but you had forgotten about it? Or you thought he would throw some sweats before opening the door to you. But then you thought again and reminded yourself that it was Jack, and he wouldn't throw any sweats.

You bit your lips as you watched him, he looked incredible. He was a big, large man, his body was well-built and he always looked inviting. You couldn't help yourself to think the only thing that was missing was his black cowboy hat. That and his lasso, so you could use it to tie him down to his bed, making your cowboy so defenseless, being exposed like that. Then all you would have to do would have your thighs on each side of his waist, lowering yourself on his cock and taking his stetson and placing it on your own head, ready to make the cowboy hat rule come to life.

"Sugar?" He asked you and gently poked your arm, drawing your attention back to him "cat got your tongue? You've been staring for quite a while, is everything okay?" He raised his eyebrow and watched as your face turned a deep shade of red.

You didn't know where those ideas came from, that would be the last thing in your mind. You and Jack were at war, he offended you at every single opportunity he had after being nothing but horrible to you. And yet you just had a wet dream right in front of him. You wanted to scream in frustration and punch yourself, but instead, you shook your head and stared back into his eyes

"I-I want to talk to you… I made up my mind" you said in a weak voice, still mortified at yourself for having such… thoughts on Jack "maybe you should… you know… cover yourself up a little?"

Jack raised his eyebrow and gave you a cocky, smug smile, the kind he used whenever he flirted with you and you wanted to kill him and then yourself at the realization he noticed how you looked at him. Why was it so embarrassing to you? Why was it so difficult to remind yourself he is the man who broke your heart and threw you out of the house while pregnant with his child? You shouldn't be having inappropriate thoughts like that.

"Why's that sugar? You used to love the view" he placed his hands on his waist and bent his knee a little, you weren't sure if he was joking or actually hitting on you, but you wouldn't risk playing that game, quite the opposite, it was either acting serious or leaving. You sighed heavily and shook your head "fine Jack, you definitely don't want to take things seriously, so we can talk in the morning" you turned around and took a step towards the door, and that was enough for the cowboy to curse under his breath and immediately look for some pants.

"Shit, I'm so sorry sugar… I'm decent now, you can look at me" he told you in an urgent tone, he didn't want you to leave, he didn't want his questions, his pleas to be unanswered so he breathed relieved when you faced him again.

Of course Jack only bothered to put on his pants, not a shirt, so you still had a privileged view of his body, just as beautiful and sexy as you remembered, if you closed your eyes and focused hard enough you could still feel his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips, his smell lingering on your body hours after he had touched you for the last time. But you couldn't, you were there to talk business, serious business with him, and above all, remind yourself what a shitty person he was, no matter how handsome and attractive he happened to be.

"I already made up my mind, Jack… about everything you asked me" you told him and walked to his armchair, waiting for him to follow and do the same, taking the spare one, facing you. His hands joined together and resting on his lap, trying to hide his anxiety as you prepared yourself to speak

"So, as I said… I already made up my mind, and I've decided that yes, you can come back into our lives and take up your role as a father. I still don't know how to do that, I mean, isn't Wyatt too young to know you are his dad? Would he even understand?" You asked but you questioned more yourself than him at that moment "my point is… you have already waltzed into our lives, against my will of course, Jack, you know it, but you have, and the fact is that my son already loves you and I can't fight that" you rubbed your neck and then licked your lips "but not everything will be a picnic, Jack Daniels… I got two conditions: first one, you break his little heart in any way and you're out of the picture forever, even if I have to pay my ass off in lawyers to keep away from my son" Jack nodded, trying to hide his smile, he was so damn happy to know he would finally be able to officially be Wyatt's dad he barely paid attention to anything else, but he tried focusing on you, not wanting to seem disrespectful in any way "and my last condition is: once Wyatt is old enough, he will know what happened between us. It is not fair to me that he gets to love you more than me just because you are the cool parent that gives him no rules and restrictions and can fuel his imagination with your fancy ranch, and your money, he will know you ditched us, you didn't want us and you weren't there for us when we needed you, and this is not negotiable" you swallowed and got up, walking towards the door and not giving Jack enough time to argue back as you had absolutely no strength to get into another fight now.

Jack on the other hand wasn't pleased at all, he wanted to argue over that last rule. If he was making things right then it meant his sins would be forgiven? He didn't want his son to find out what a shitty man he was, he was ashamed of it and it would gut him if his sweet little Wyatt found out the bitter truth about his daddy, but at that moment, he knew he wouldn't get anything from you. So he obliged to your conditions, but he hadn't gotten his final answer yet, not the one he had been anxiously awaiting for the whole night. He gently took you wrist, stopping you from taking another step

"Sugar?" He asked you in his low voice, hesitantly, as part of him knew what was coming but he still needed to try, he wouldn't forgive himself if he didn't. "What about a second chance for us? Have you thought of that?"

"There's nothing to think about Jack. There is no 'us' anymore. You asked me to co-parent Wyatt and I said yes, but you and I? That's dead and gone. Besides I already have someone" and then he looked at you with the saddest brown eyes you'd ever seen, if you didn't know any better, you would basically melt away, dwelling into their depth of sadness and do everything in your power to make him happy, but not anymore. You were no longer like that. "You know what's funny, Jack? A few years ago, my biggest dream was to hear you asking me this question. All I wanted, wished and prayed for was for you to show up at my doorstep, apologize and ask me to get back together so we would have our baby and raise him as a family… funny how things change, right?"

And you left him there.

•••

When Sunday came, Jack had no other option than suck it up and hold onto what he got: his son. He would be lying if it said he wasn't hurt by your response, though he knew it was very likely to happen, he still had some small, childish even, hope in his heart. Hope that maybe you forgive him, or at least tell him he could try to make things right, but instead you just straight up made sure he understood he would have no chance with you after all. And it stung. He couldn't deny it. And the fact you'd told him you had someone? That must have been bullshit. He was sure you were just bluffing, just saying that to make him feel bad after hurting you. There was no way you had a boyfriend. Or was it? No, he didn't want to believe that, it made no sense at all, of course he would have Ginger hack into your social media first thing on Monday to see if you were being honest or not, but at that moment, he couldn't worry so much about that.

But on the other hand, he had his son, and he couldn't be happier about that part, to know you were finally okay with him being around, not needing to worry you would just walk away with Wyatt and not look back, he wanted to do everything by the book; he wanted his name on the birth certificate, he wanted to pay you a very good child support and be part of every single meaningful part of Wyatt's life. Unlike you, your son loved him, and he felt very happy, loving to spend the whole time with him, all over the place. He showed Wyatt the rest of the ranch, all his favorite animals again and even took his lasso, which the little boy loved and clapped enthusiastically, showing him the best moves and how cool it could be. Jack also paid attention to you, and how you reacted to his lasso abilities. He knew how much you enjoyed watching him with it or the whip, and he also knew damn well how his lasso brought the two of you erotic memories. Instead of getting lost in Whiskey again, you focused on your son, how good his smell and how warm he was in your arms. Your jealous side wasn't totally convinced he could love the two of you just as much, but you tried, and seeing how excited and happy he was, it already soothed your heart.

Wyatt also spent a lot of time with Silver Pony, it was almost impossible to drag him out of the stable. He just loved that mare with all his little heart and wanted to brush her, ride her and hug her for the rest of his life. At moments like those, he could see how similar you and Wyatt were. He could look just the same as his father, but his sweetness and kindness were all you, and Jack really loved that.

When evening came, he was already upset knowing you and Wyatt would head back home, the weekend went by so fast and it broke his heart to think he would have to spend another night alone. He didn't want that anymore, Jack wanted a family, his family, and it was just too upsetting to know you would drive back to your apartment, cuddle your boy to sleep and Jack would have to stay alone, haunted by the memories of how happy he was once.

So when the first thunder roared in the sky, it felt like the heavens had heard his prayers. Maybe, if a real bad rain started, you and Wyatt would have to spend another night, so it was very hard for him to hide the smile when the three of you were caught by the storm as you returned from the stable. By the time you reached the house, you were all soaked wet, so marching into a warm shower was the first thing you did. First Wyatt, then you, then Jack.

You had hopes the rain would stop so you could drive home, but of course it didn't and you just knew you would have to spend an extra night. You weren't happy about it, but it was the safest option, as driving was completely off the table at that weather; you only felt upset to see Wyatt wasn't as happy as he should be, because he was scared of the loud thunders. They just made his little ears hurt and he felt startled, but the moment the power went out because of the rain, Wyatt began crying. He clung to Jack and sniffed, holding the cowboy as tight as he could "I scawed cowboy" he cried his little heart out "pwease no weave me and mama" he begged him and that shattered the man's heart. His son begging him not to be abandoned, it gutted him to think he was so scared he didn't want to be left alone.

"It's okay, buddy… daddy ain't leaving you or mama" he assured him, rubbing his back and only realizing what he'd said after you stared at him in disbelief, you knew it was going to happen sooner or later, but you didn't expect it to be like that, the two of you held your breaths waiting for Wyatt's response, anxious to know if he would question you two, or if he would find it funny or confusing but he didn't say anything at all, he just sniffed calming down, though his grip around Jack wouldn't loosen in any way.

Until you had an idea. Rubbing his back in soothing, circle motions just like Jack did, you smiled at your son "come on baby, let's have a sleepover, you, me and the cowboy" you suggested him and in no time the three of you were in Jack's bedroom - that being the biggest one - and immediately climbing in bed. You and Jack in opposite sides and Wyatt in the middle. The room was dark and the rain falling mercilessly outside created the perfect atmosphere to sleep. You were almost dozing off yourself, as Jack hummed q lullaby to Wyatt, it was just so soothing and relaxing, you were so ready to relax, when Wyatt let out a big yawn

"Night night mama, night night dada" he said in his sweet voice and fell asleep.

At that moment, you and Jack weren't enemies anymore, you were two parents, too choked up on your own emotions to say anything else, before another thunder crashed outside, but this time, it didn't bother Wyatt, because he was safely asleep, protected by his mommy and daddy.

_____

A/N: I just want to be this man's sugar and give him beautiful kids 🥺😭❤️

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blueaetherr · 1 year

Note

hi would you write a fluff with Mason Mount? Maybe they are having a baby and they decide to spread the news to his family on a dinner? I really appreciate your writing! 💗

the good news

pairing: mason mount x fem!reader [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where they share the news about their growing family with mason's family

author's note: hi anon, thanks for the requests and ur kind words! i haven't written for mason for a while so this one is a bit shorter compared to my recent ones, but i still hope you enjoy it. also, i'll be trying to write more for the next few days so my requests are currently open!

"I'm real nervous right now," Y/N said, quite out of nowhere, as the two were strolling on the footpath.

Mason chuckled to himself as he guided his partner around a puddle so she wouldn't step in it. "You make it seem like you're meeting my parents for the first time."

Perhaps sure it wouldn't be the first time for Y/N, but it definitely felt like it. She remembers that day—meeting Mason's parents that is, and the emotions and experience that came with it all. She was initially a wreck. She remembers her nerves flaring up; the shaking hands, the unsure smiles, that feeling of not feeling prepared for any confrontation, constantly having to recheck her appearance over and over in the mirror before they left.

Fortunately, with her nerves acting up came Mason. Through his voice and physical touch, he was there to put her at ease. Reassuring Y/N that everything would be alright, that she didn't need to fuss over an outfit because she already looked perfect, that her interest in him– something so pure and real– was enough for his family to love her as they did him. From the time he had arrived at her apartment to when they had reached his parents' home, Mason remained her voice of reason.

So Y/N trusted Mason, and she was right to trust him. 'Cause from the friendly welcomes she received from everyone in his family to sharing kind conversations with his mom and bonding so well with her, it was a good day for her—an outwardly positive experience. She had walked away pleased with the meeting.

Those same emotions felt back almost two years ago were being felt right now. Or maybe that was just because of the acute life growing inside her.

"I promise there's no reason to be, love. Why would you be anyway? I know my mum tries to bring up the baby convos with you too." He pointed at his girlfriend when he noticed her dimples appear, making him tilt his head back in laughter. Exhaling deeply, he shook his head. "Of course she does."

Both Mason and Y/N knew his parents were excited that they were together, especially his mom. They didn't guarantee anything like kids or marriage when Mason finally got a girlfriend, and his parents respected that. His relationship, now rather established and prospering, simply kept the hope alive.

He opened the front gate of his parents' home, allowing Y/N to pass by first. "They love me but they probably love you a bit more." Stopping at the front door, he took the opportunity to press his lips against her cheek and watched her smile flourish even more. If her nerves really were present, he wanted to be the one to give her reassurance; to let her know everything would be alright. "This is everything my mum has ever wanted for us. I think we're in the good."

She felt her head tilt in admiration for Mason. For his emotional support through his jokes and distinct words because it wasn't the first she had heard them. The reassurance he was giving her mirrored the one he'd offered her some time ago– back when he had introduced her to his family. She absolutely loved the growth in his words, the transition from they'll love you to they love you made her feel whole.

And from there, the rest was only deja vu for Y/N. The door opened and they were welcomed by Mason's mom with her smiles and everything galore, with her embraces too for Y/N that felt like unique warmth and kindness and love. And it was all the same with his friends and family present. Speaking to her with commonality, including her in jokes and conversations by simply mentioning her name or calling for her input.

Or the moments when someone would pull Y/N away from Mason when he wanted her all to himself. It was something that should've annoyed Mason, but honestly he didn't mind it. Witnessing his favourite people interact and have fun was a sight he would never be tired of seeing. It was also 'cause when Mason would catch her attention from across the room and mouth I told you so, Y/N would cave in and roll her eyes. But always did she follow it up with a small laugh.

'Cause when it was all said and done, Mason wasn't far from the truth—Y/N, with time, came to understand that well. From his parents to his siblings and friends, she was loved and embraced by everyone with open arms. There was nothing for her to be scared of.

And glancing around at everyone as they were sitting around the dining table for dinner—passing around food options with harmony, clutching onto one another from excessive laughter, encouraging conversation and simple talk for everyone to be involved in—Y/N realised that's the environment she wanted to be around. For herself, for her relationship with Mason and for their future child.

An environment where you would feel accepted, loved and felt like you belonged among this amazing band of people. Where someone would pull you in when you were suddenly drifting, where you would find yourself entertained when everything seemed quite dull, where you would smile and laugh without any intention of stopping 'cause you were just so consumed with joy and happiness.

That's all Y/N wanted for her budding family—comfort and security, a place clear of judgement. That's all she could ask for.

Hearing her name being called out, she turned to the person calling for her attention– Mason's mom. "Y/N, you okay hun? You kinda blanked out on us there."

Y/N blinked a few times, realising that she had indeed drifted for a minute or two. Thankfully, the room was busy with chat and laughter, so the focus wasn't completely on her. "Oh sorry, I'm fine, yeah," she moved her hair off her shoulders, chuckling through a soft exhale. "It's been happening for a while now. I didn't think the first three months would be like this."

It was only when she was taking a slip of her drink that Y/N realised the phrasing of her words, quickly putting it down to correct herself. She seemed to be late, however, when a gasp from Mason's mom had the commotion in the room fall flat. Her glance at the young couple caused the focus to shift to Y/N and Mason as everyone witnessed the older woman struggle to form her words.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked, glancing between her son and his partner. She tried to hide it, but there was a bit of excitement in her words. She had an idea in mind (I mean, it seemed a bit obvious), but she needed someone to confirm her thoughts before she could celebrate anything. "What does she mean by that, Mase?"

It was amusing because Mason and Y/N chose to announce the good news without saying anything. Joining hands, fingers interlocking well, they shared smiles keen and knowing before her free hand fell comfortably on her stomach.

That was enough confirmation for his mom who was the first to react; a cry full of happiness and delight that sent everyone in the room in awe. And from there everything else went so fast: the congratulations, the whole yet delicate hugs, the kisses on her cheeks and forehead, the reassuring words from every other person approaching the couple– that they would be supported and loved during the next few challenging months.

It was all overwhelming for Y/N as she wiped away those few stray tears, with her laughter and smiles, however, far more prominent. This environment that she wanted for her aspiring family was no longer a want; she was officially a part of it now.

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hopeforkitten · 2 months

Text

the plot where Raphael hides / saves us from the ascended Astarion is already classic, but what about the plot where we find ourselves between the devil Raphael and the god Gale?

The ending of the game is with Gale's novel, where he ascends and we signed a contract with Raphael. A dialogue with the two of them, but Raphael snaps his fingers and takes his debtor to the house of hope, as befits the devil.

So Gale, I have your sweetheart, and I will gladly exchange her for the crown she promised me.

Raphael, of course, could torment us in a sophisticated way, but it is also possible to leave us in the painful expectation of our beloved, who will not come.

(I love Gale, but I really doubt that he would give up the desired divinity and first of all I'm Raphael's girl so I need this development heh)

We settled in the archive, dutifully waiting for our savior, and being completely sure that he would come. Raphael rarely comes to us, and we ignore him with our nose in the air, because in our head we are already free from this captivity.

Raphael smiles rapaciously, watching the changes in our behavior. A bored lady first hides behind books, then throws them aside and looks more tense, her hair and clothes are in more and more disarray. She starts wandering around the archive and does not notice the rest of its inhabitants, she mumbles non-stop, "He will come back. He'll be back. He will definitely come back for me."

The mouse's strength in the cage is running out and she gets discouraged. He's just sitting on the floor hugging his legs.

Raphael gives orders to the archivist and approaches the little prisoner. There is triumph on his face.

"You know, you're the first guest I've had who gives me so much pleasure just by being there, little mouse." The girl continues to stare into the void, not reacting to him. Raphael's emotions deteriorate, he frowns.

"But you're not being funny anymore, honey. I don't think your lover is getting discouraged right now. He has admirers and confidants. He follows the destinies of people and supports their wildest desires. To some extent, it's like me." Raphael praises himself and looks dreamily around.

"I can help fulfill any ambitions. The only question is, do you still have them?" He looks down at the girl, who finally raises her haggard gaze to him.

"I don't think so. All of them remained in your dizzying journey to my crown. You gave up everything for him, didn't you? He promised to share divinity with you. You paved his way to Celestia, but he chose to go up there alone."

"Is that fair, little mouse?" He tries to find the answer, peering into her pale eyes, but does not find it.

"Well, no, you're not funny at all." Raphael gently claps his hands, awakening her attention and obedience.

"Follow me"

The way to the boudoir is not long, the debtor quietly drags her feet behind him. And she remains standing by the pool while Raphael walks to the back of the room.

Haarlep perks up on the red sheets noticing the guest. But he is somewhat upset to distinguish a battered debtor in her.

"Take care of our guest." Raphael gives a brief command.

"Um, it's not for me to lecture you, I thought you liked more... sensible specimens."

"I assure you, her brilliant mind will quickly return to normal. Make her look decent, talk to her, refresh the dying embers of her soul. I'm sure you'll like her."

"Well, if you think so."

Raphael leaves, and Haarlep remains to bring the mouse back to normal. The incubus washes her body and hair, asks questions and, without receiving answers, criticizes her apathetic state.

Later, the little mouse, clean and smelling good, sits on the bed while Haarlep smears her roughened elbows with cream, simultaneously lamenting to Raphael.

"Of course I'm thrilled with what a wreck you've turned God's beloved into, but it's up to me to put her in order."

We are definitely fine, we accept all their words, but we are silent out of resentment until Raphael uses his diabolical conviction.

"Tell me, little mouse, who's to blame for you being here?"

It's my fault, because I made a deal with the devil."

"Wow, she's really talking," Haarlep comments,

"Wrong answer, mouse, you can get out of here, but someone just doesn't want to get you out of here."

Raphael will use us to set up our resentment against Gale, whitewashing himself and forcing us to work for the good of his future kingdom.

• How do you like the moment that Gale lovingly taught us the magic of a wizard, so when we now return this knowledge, his image also returns: his face, his soft voice, his hands guiding ours. This depresses the soul of the captive and awakens unnecessary emotions, therefore, on the part of Raphael's strategy, it is worth changing the nature of our magic and making us his warlock, thus getting under the skin of the most intimate memories and replacing Gale with himself.

Well... I guess his final goal is to take the crown with our hands. It's quite beautiful. yes

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #haarlep #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale dekarios

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siampie · 2 months

Text

Risk and Reward||Chapter 3: Scared Of Love

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You finally decide to drop the "let's be friends," after your coffee date with Matthew. And you both admit your mutual attraction.

Warnings/tags: angst, fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, childhood trauma, slight mention of emotional abuse

A/N: Originally, this chapter was supposed to feature teasing Matt but Reader kindly reminded me that things between her and Matt aren't there yet. Those things take time. So, the chapter title changed and I think it’s a little angsty but it fits the story. Also, this song is the one that inspired this fic. Not entirely satisfied with this chapter but I still like it. I hope you enjoy it.

PS: And don’t worry, teasing Matt will make an appearance but a little further down the line.

Previous Chapter || Chapter List || Next chapter

Masterlist || Join my tag list

Tag list: @marytheweefrenchie, @sunflowersandsapphires, @abbyhaslongshorts, @schneeflocky, @danzer8705

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Song the title is referring to:

Don’t come any closer

Till I tell you that it’s over

‘Cause I rather be alone than be a wreck

We’re both playing with fire

And you’re the one holding the lighter

But if we never start, we’ll never end

Matt had a soft smile on his face, sitting across from you. Your hands were around your warm cup. You couldn’t see his sightless eyes but you knew they were on you. You took a sip before you could answer his question.

“I wanted to be a housewife when I was a kid.” You chuckled when he gave you an incredulous look. “I wanted to be like my mother.” You clarified. “I thought she was doing the greatest job in the world. Taking care of her children and loving them. I wanted to be just like her.”

“What change?” Matt reached out for his cup.

“Well,” You sighed. “When I was eleven, she walked out on us. With no explanations and no goodbyes. So, I sorta decided on another career path.”

“You didn’t want to be like her anymore.” Matt stated quietly.

“Not really. My dad had grown a bad habit of constantly comparing me to her, you know.” You spoke. “It was always negative. And it was always me, specifically. My siblings never got compared to her. Never really understood why.”

When you were younger, right after your mother had walked away, you and your father had gotten into lots of fights. You were both lashing out at each other. Both grieving a loss, both angry and not knowing how to deal with those emotions; you both lashed out. But every time you fought back; he would compare you to your mother. He called you unloving, ungrateful, disloyal. His words had cut deep within you, leaving open wounds that had yet to heal. And all these years of taking care of him, of the home, and of your siblings, stemmed from a need to prove him wrong. You were loving, grateful and loyal. You made sure he knew. You made sure he knew that he was wrong. He had to know.

That need within your heart to prove your father wrong, had mostly come from fear. A fear that he would abandon you just like your mother did. So, you did everything you could to give him a reason to stay. A reason to love you as much as you loved him.

You felt his calloused hand on yours. His hand felt rough but gentle. Your heart skipped a beat. “Your father was wrong to do this. you were only a child. You were hurting as much as he was."

“I know that now." You spoke softly. "But I didn't then. I suppose when you are a kid, you trust the grown-ups around you to protect you, and comfort you. You don't expect them to use their words to hurt you."

“I know what you mean," Matt said.

“You do ?”

“When I lost my father, I was sent to the orphanage." He answered. "The Nuns did not really know how to deal with me—and the person they chose to do so—wasn't really the best."

“Was he blind like you?”

“Yeah,” He nodded. “He taught me everything I know.”

He looked uncomfortable as though he had said too much already. As though, he had let it slip. You had caught him off guard. You didn't push though. Instead, you hummed quietly.

“How did you lose your father? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He was shot when I was nine.” Matt adjusted his glasses. “He was a boxer, you know. My dad. He lost more than he won, before he, uh—but he could take a punch.” He said fondly. “He always told me ‘It ain’t how you hit the mat, it’s how you get up.’”

You loved the way he spoke of his father. Every word was dripping with love and admiration. But most of all with pride. And aside all of that, there was a pain behind his words, the pain it still felt at the loss.

“That’s a good motto to go by in life.” You observed, your lips turning up at the corner. “I like that. No matter how many times you get knocked down, just keep on getting back up.” You wove your fingers with his, and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’m sure he would have been proud of you. As much as you are of him.”

“Barely, but thanks.” He smiled at you. He refused to take the compliment. You were not the only one who had demons, it seemed.

“He truly would have been proud of you, Matthew. You’re a good man.” You assured him. His sightless gaze dropped to the table, a faint smile on his face. “Are you going shy on me, Murdock?” You teased him.

He chuckled before adjusting his glasses. “You have a—um—a way of doing this.”

“Making you go shy?”

“Among other things.” His lips twitched up at the corner.

You ran your tongue over your lips. His words had a way to make you blush. Just three words but with so much more meaning behind them.

“Is it a bad thing that I do?”

“No, I—I find it refreshing. Keep me on my toes." He joked.

“Oh.” You let out breathless, your eyes landed on your interlaced fingers. His thumb brushed over yours, in a back-and-forth motion. “This starts feeling like date and not so much like two friends catching up over coffee.”

“Would it be so bad if it was?” Matt questioned softly.

“No, I don’t think it would—it’s just—” You paused.

“Yeah?”

You like Matt Murdock. So, would it be so bad if this was a date? Short answer. No. It wouldn’t be. The conversation was easy between the two of you. You two were now leaning over the table. Your fingers were woven together. And it all felt natural. You had opened up to him more freely than you had with others. He already knew more about you than Amelia did. Was there any point in keeping this “let’s be friends,” thing going?

“Just not today.” You told him. “Maybe next time?”

“Are you asking me on a real date?” He smirked.

“Yeah.” Your eyes dropped to the table. Your neckline started to feel warm, your heart was hammering, trying to escape from your ribcage. “Only—if you want to.” You tucked your hair behind your ear with your free hand.

“I was going to ask you the same thing.” He huffed out a laugh.

You scoffed. “You still can.” And you smirked.

Matt walked you home as he had done before. You stood facing him, at the bottom of the stairs that led into your building. His hand slid down your arm, to grip your hand. He stepped closer to you. Your eyes roamed his face before settling on his red tinted glasses.

“I like you.” Matt said.

“I like you too.” You smiled at him.

“I would like to take you out on a date.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” You teased him.

He chuckled. “How does dinner sound? Next weekend?”

“Sounds great.” You nodded, smiling.

“Yeah?” He grinned before his forehead touched yours. Your eyes fell shut at the contact.

“Yeah.” You breathed out.

He had let go of your hand. His fingers gently grazed against your neck, before making their way to your jaw. He ran his thumb on your cheek. His nose brushed against yours. His breath was fanning over your lips. Your hands moved to his solid chest. You opened your eyes, they landed immediately on his lips. You could lean in and kiss him. You could just give into the desire to feel his lips against yours. You could. You wanted to. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to close the gap between you. So, instead, you pulled away from him. You cleared your throat.

“Will you let me know when you get home?” You asked him quietly.

“I will.” He cleared his throat, and pushed his glasses back onto his face. “I’ll call you, all right?”

“Okay.” You nodded as he stepped away from you, your hands falling back to your sides. “Have a good day, Matthew.”

“You too.” He smiled at you before turning to leave.

Matthew Murdock liked you. And you liked him too. It was a first for you, really. The butterflies in your stomach had not fizzled out. If anything, they had only grown stronger. Just the thought of him stirred them awake. And yet, you were mad at yourself for not giving in to the desire to kiss him. You had wanted to do it. You just had to lean in. Why didn’t you?

Your brain was constantly working against you. You were able to counter it most days. When it was work related, it was quite easy. But when it came to intimacy, not so much. You spiraled down a pit of self-doubt. Always. Were you supposed to kiss him now? This wasn’t a date. This was two friends catching up over coffee. And yes, his face was really close to yours but did it mean he wanted to kiss you? What if you had read the signs wrong? And did you know how to kiss? No one had ever complained before but would it be good enough for him?

You slammed your hands down on your kitchen counter. “Give it a rest.” You grabbed your spoon, and shovel down a mouthful of ice-cream. “He’s going to call you. He’ll set up a date and a time. And you’ll kiss him then.” You spoke to yourself. “Yeah, if I’d grown a pair since then.”

Your phone rang next to you. Your heart picked up in anticipation. This was it; he was calling you like he had said. You took a deep breath and grabbed your phone. You checked the caller ID to make sure it was him. It was Amelia. Your shoulders slumped, in disappointment. You also suddenly felt stupid. It had only been two days. He’d call when he’d call, right? And he was a lawyer. He was probably busy.

“State mental institution, which patient do you wish to speak with?” You answered the phone.

“Hilarious.” She said dryly. “Pretty Boy hasn’t called you yet?”

“Nope.” You took another spoon of ice-cream.

“How loud are they?”

“Pretty loud.” You sighed miserably. “I shouldn’t have agreed to it.” You felt the tears pricked at the corner of your eyes.

“What?!” Amelia exclaimed. “No, don’t do that. Don’t do that.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You are.” Amelia said. “Something good happened to you. Something good is happening to you. Matt likes you and you like him. He said he will call you. And he will. So, don’t do the self-pity thing, please.”

“It’s not self-pity. It’s reality.” You argued moving to your couch. “Something good happened, I let myself enjoy it for two seconds. And now—”

“Nothing.” Amelia cut you off. “Nothing bad is going to happen. Something good is happening to you.”

You did not believe her. In your experience, each time you had felt some sort of happiness, it was either ripped away from you or something terrible happened to your family. You felt as though you were being punished by God for feeling some sort of joy. As though you were not allowed to.

Or maybe you were exaggerating, Making a mountain out of molehill. What was the most rational thing? Amelia was most likely right. Matt Murdock would call you. He said he would. He was a lawyer, and he might have gotten busy with work. And it was only Tuesday, after all. Matt would not lie to you.

“Do you want to come over?” You asked her.

“Tequila or Vodka?”

“None of the above.”

“You’re right. I’ll bring both.”

Red pen at the ready. Music blaring in your ears. Drowning out the chatter of your colleagues, the buzzing of the light. You were focused on your recent manuscript; a young adult fantasy. Young adults’ books were one of your favorite genres, when written well. When the plot made sense. But when it didn’t, it drove you up the wall. This one did not exactly do it for you. It wasn't bad, but overall, it was quite a good read. But not exactly your cup of tea. That wasn’t why you were paid. You were paid to proofread the book. You were paid to review errors, not to review the plot.

Your music stopped playing when your phone rang. You took off your headphones and answered the call.

“Welcome to the complaint hotline. Press 1 for minor annoyances. 2 for full-on ranting.” You announced in your best imitation of a customer service voice.

“Complaint hotline?” It was Matt. He sounded confused.

You gasped and straitened in your seat as though he could see you. “Hello Matthew!”

He broke into a chuckle. “Hello to you too. Sounds like you’re having fun?”

“It’s just a silly joke. I thought it was Amelia.” You explained quickly. “I forgot to check the caller ID.” You mumbled under your breath.

“Filtering calls, I see.

"I'm not - I just -," You fumbled to form an answer. You heard him laugh through the phone. “What can I do for you, Matthew?” You dropped your forehead in the palm of your hand.

“I wanted to make sure we were still on for this weekend.” He replied. “Dinner on Saturday night?”

You were thrilled that the date was happening still. You were even more thrilled that he had called as he had said he would. Your face broke into a smile. “Sounds great.” You softly answered.

“At seven?” He offered.

“Perfect.” Your smile only deepened.

“I’ll meet you at your place and we can walk there.”

“And where are you taking me?”

“There’s a Thai restaurant by my place. I thought we could go there.” Matt told you.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

“Good, so do I.” He admitted. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then?”

“Gladly. I’ll see you on Saturday.” You bit your bottom lip. “Have a good day, Matthew.”

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