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#ahead of both of their official break-ups

sysig · 4 months

Text

2023 Art Purge

Original edition! Ended up having to split the doodles into two parts, I didn’t mean to end up with so many left over but oops - onto the commentary!

Remember crayon Edgar? I drew this one at the same time! Loosely based off Circus Baby but really just more of a general cutesy look - layering with colours is fun :)

Eyes, every year. Two general eyes, and two characters! Bottom left is Souichi, and bottom right is Vivian :) Vivian always gets a spare eye haha

Some concept art for a false backpack I still kinda wanna make - it’d be a prop for a game I made earlier this year, as the prize container! It’s meant to be kind of like a pop-up shop that can fold away fairly small and hold a bunch of small items safely and inconspicuously, though it wouldn’t actually work as a real backpack lol

Some Cherubsona concept art, thinking about their hair and the light rays - I considered having a single asymmetrical hair tuft, I think while I was still on the fence about having asymmetrical wings as well - I’m happy with the final design :)

And some baby angels! Based on my DQIX/AGE headcanons/actual canon lol, took a few tries to get a design I was happy with before settling on the bottom-most one with the fuzzed ears, lolling about haha. Cute!

Also thinking about “Fallen” designs, since my cherubsona is meant to be a fallen angel - or even just biblically accurate angels! Maybe they became more normal-looking after falling haha

More Charm doodles based on the Hungry idea - neither Frankenstein nor Zombies were quite what I was looking for, but they were close! Poor Charm, even if it is a Look

More eyes! Concept sketches of the Yanderapy boys :D Mitsu’s swirls and Ishida’s sleepy ♥ eye expression haha

An alternate panel of Mitsu being shy to admit his love language haha, I wanted his expression to be a little more visible but him hiding in the book is also very cute haha

Little doodle of Ishida singing Daisy Bell! He’s half-crazy all for the love of Mitsu after all

Technically these are from later in the year but I was really hoping to have the set up for a silly concept rolling - Ishida wants to play a game! The game would allow each of them to take a turn, with the goal of the game to be to sneak a gift into the other’s bag or pocket when he’s not looking. A cute and silly and fun concept to reverse pick-pocket the other and give a little treat! Totally harmless and not at all strange or weird or with any kind of underlying sinister vibes!

The punchline of course was that since they’re both yanderes that it basically turns into stalking each other, which as featured here, Mitsu is very into, who could have guess lol. The double punchline is that they’re both so aware of/obsessed with each other that they notice each other right away, but play along because it’s obvious that they’re both enjoying it haha It’s yandere enrichment! Ishida would also get a real rush from “hunting” Mitsu, as would Mitsu enjoy being “hunted” - yet more twisted love languages ♥

Random deer :) Actually one of the animals I considered for Dahlia early on but decided to scrap, because I don’t know how to draw deer lol

Also went through a couple scrapped designs for her artist friend, just to make sure I explored all my options thoroughly! I’m glad I did, but I’m happiest with the one I decided on, of course

Brief Dahlia and Tala meeting. They’re unsure of each other! Squirrels and dogs don’t have the best track record admittedly

Bit of vent :( Bar’s always good for it ♥

Bucket! :D Been a bit since I drew anyone from that cast, though I somehow made him on-model by accident lol, and of course he’s still cute! That’s the important part really

Eyesssssssss <3 <3 On the left were some quick comparisons between dot/filled-in eyes and eyes with a differentiated pupil and iris, since I’ve been defaulting to dark eyes a lot lately (it’s the Vargas influence lol); and on the right were a bunch of Cure eyes! I think at least partially studied off of some character creators? Lots of eye styles to choose from, which one suits her the best hmm. She has very sparkly eyes

And another sort-of study off a character creator haha, it’s very cute! Not very Cure, though

One of the early ideas that made me want to dig her out of storage was actually an animation idea that was maybe a liiiiiittle ambitious to go about making without her having a fixed design lol - I’ve always been a fan of magical girl transformations that completely glow-blot out the body and then they explode into frills and bows and fluff at the end haha. I would still like to come back to the idea at some point!

Ended up with a good handful of muscle studies, even after the ones I already posted - a lot of the poses ended up silly haha

And a lot of skull/face/neck studies as well, with mixed success :P

I’ll get it figured out eventually!

Sometimes it’s fun to just doodle around, shapes :) My own original human style feels so constantly in flux with the fanart I like to make and having so many non-human characters haha, probably doesn’t help that I prefer high stylism

A trio! They look kinda familiar, hmmm....

Yet more eyes lol, the first trying to figure shines. You can really see what a lack of editing does to the implied shapes pfft ♪

Always trying to figure out how to dragons! Another one I’ll have to get to Someday. There’s gotta be a trick to them >:0

Out of general studies and tests - hey I thought Just Desserts already had a sona??? And that she was like the most important and best and all that?? I got curious what my sona might be in the JD universe without being the villain haha, and I came up with a Chocolate-Chip Brioche Bun lad! :D I’ve always had something of an affinity for brioche, also somewhat inspired by Edgeworth’s cravat haha. But would Charm still exist and be wreaking havoc, or would this be the alternate universe Charm equivalent?? ‘Cause they’re definitely not “Charm”

Speaking of Charm tho! She’s holding a tooth lol - something something, candy people mining teeth? Because cavities? I dunno lol, but she’s certainly not all that much bigger than a tooth so that’s some fun scale for you :)

And finishing off with some cutesie little chibis :) I made the first as a reference for proportions, and the second to show how my holosona would look in that style haha, what a cute evil computer

#Doodles #Original #Long post #Extreme link-out edition lol #Multiple editions!#Had to be working on this one up to the last minute since y'know - still making even up to the end of the year!#Luckily this one was very well-behaved and didn't break even a little bit :) Very polite! Very appreciated haha #I have to admit I'm a little nervous about the fanart one on that front #But for now! Mostly silly sona stuff and OCs and the like :D Some concept art here and there #I'm gonna try harder in 2024 to have fewer leftovers - I like all of these! I want to show them off in their good timing!#I had fewer mixed salad greens in one post this year :0 That's on me #It's tough when I only end up with a small handful of doodles leftover to any given subject! But it's fine if some sets are smaller haha #I think the eyes will always have a spot in the end-of-year roundups tho haha #As always there'll be more 2023 doodles on the way! More than the previous years actually since I've gotten these roundups done early #Cuts both ways haha - queues still absolutely kill me |P But they do give me a cushion to work on bigger projects!#Just need the focus and energy for them lol #Anyway I'm getting ahead of myself a bit lol - there's still a whole 'nother one of these coming up sheesh lol #And I doubt that one will be as polite XP Even more reason to like this one! Haha #I'll letcha know when 2024 is ''officially'' here art-wise - I can tell you it won't be for a while haha

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cherry-leclerc · 5 months

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close call ☆ cs55

genre: smut, humor, established relationship

word count: 1.8k

After a tough season, you and Carlos want nothing more than to unwind. Though, what you have in mind is known for not always having the best outcome.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+... shower sex, fingering

req!... sorry that it took me so long to post! school sucks :(

“Glad that shit show is finally over.”

Charles lets out a loud laugh as he throws his head back, shooting out a quick goodbye. Your boyfriend clumsily swings his arm over your shoulder as you both slowly make your way over to his car. Post-season testing was officially over and now came what you were both looking forward to.

Doing absolutely nothing.

“What should we do now?”

Tapping a finger against your glossy lips, you look up at the sky, trying to come up with an idea. Abu Dhabi was beautiful; there had to be a lot to do. Shimming away from his embrace, you turn to face Carlos. “We should go jet skiing!” His smile drops.

“No way.”

You stick your tongue out as you smack his toned chest. “But it was so much fun last time we went! Oh! Don’t you remember, Carlos?” The way your eyes shine with the memory makes him almost fall for it. But alas, he stood his ground.

“You flew right off the jet and almost died. That was fun to you?” He opens the passenger door. “Because it wasn’t for me.” Slamming it shut, he walks around the car, leaving you to slump into the Ferrari seat.

“I almost touched the clouds,” you try as he clicks his tongue, large hands maneuvering the wheel to reverse out of the parking lot. More like you almost met God. You groan as you turn your music up and roll the window down. You know how much he hated not being able to hear you and talk to you. Or how he hated not being able to see your pretty face when the wind makes your hair fly all over the place. Can you please stop? Bobbing your head up and down to the beat, you look out at the scenery.

“You’re being a brat-”

“Excuse me?”

“I mean - you’re being an angel!” He pulls his phone out before handing it over to you carefully, as if you would bite his head off at any moment. “Go ahead and pull up the directions, preciosa.”

As soon as he parks on the beach, you hop out, giddy with excitement. His hands flies up to fix his sunglasses that were beginning to slide down his nose. He squints at the bright sun. We don’t have the proper attire. Silently, you grab the keys from him as you open the trunk. Neatly, inside a tote bag, is your bikini and his swim trunks. He chews the inside of his cheek. Of course, he mutters as you take his hand and drag him along.

“I know you!” With a firm smile, the Spaniard waves at the older lady. Hello. Rushing past him, she waddles her way over to you. Despite being confused, you still let out a bright smile. Scanning you up and down, she nods excitedly. “I knew it was you!”

Growing a bit protective over this weird encounter, Carlos stands in front of you and forces a polite grin. And it’s almost as if you have no idea over the concept of danger because you just run around him and start introducing yourself. He shakes his head in disapproval, floppy brown hair following.

“I’m Tori! I was your instructor last time you were here! I could never forget someone so pretty.” She turns her attention over to the tall Spaniard. “She almost died on my watch, too. I thought you were about to throw a lawsuit on me.”

“I would have-”

“He’s kidding!” You lean in to hug her as if you're a long lost sister. He makes sure to hold onto the back of your skirt, ready to fling you back. Just in case. “What do you say we just forget about any of that, Tori? I wanna get on the jet ski.”

“Long forgotten! Let’s go.”

Carlos is left with his jaw on the floor as he glares at you both skipping away together.

“Nos vamos a morir.”

“I’m breaking up with you.”

“No. You’re not.”

You narrow your eyes at Carlos as you cross your arms in frustration. He doesn’t even bat an eye at your actions; let alone your words. “I will if you continue threatening me.” Turning to face Tori, who stands next to the white jet ski, you raise your hands up in alarm. “He’s threatening me, Victoria.”

“Por favor…” He rolls his brown eyes. “I’m only doing this because I love you. And because I want us to live a long and happy life together. Have a kid or two?”

“This won’t be the end of the world! I just want to drive it.”

Pressing a quick peck on your pink lips, he shakes his head. “Not this time.”

With a grumpy attitude and a deep frown, you eventually oblige. Taking you by the hand, he helps you take a seat behind him as he reaches out for the keys. Tori smiles. Just ignite it and off you go! Enjoy the ride.

“Mierda,” he gasps as he resurfaces from the water. Treading to keep afloat, he turns his head with urgency to find you. His heavy pants are the only thing being heard as he slowly loses his mind. Feeling something tickle his lower calf, he yelps as he lets out a strong kick against the tides. Poking your head out from underneath the blue waves, you choke on salt water.

“Asshole! You kicked my face!”

“I didn’t know that was you!”

Brushing long strands of wet hair off your eyes, you muster a dirty look. A large smile hugs his lips. “And you said I drive bad…What happened to being an F1 driver?”

Regardless of you pouting over his shoulder, you had eventually found yourself enjoying gliding through the waves. You could’ve sworn you saw a mermaid, too. Though, you can’t exactly pinpoint the moment your boyfriend lost control and sent you two flying.

He gapes before rubbing his hand against his jaw . You shudder. “I drive cars for a living, not jet skis…” You let out a teasing smile. Whatever you say, mi amor.

After your rescue from Tori and the crew, you both agreed to call it a day and just head back to your hotel. Except now, you wouldn’t let the story die.

“He was like, ‘I’ll keep you safe, baby. Don’t you worry, baby.’ He didn’t even last 5 minutes!” Folding over, you twirl all over the bed as you laugh; a frowning Spaniard holding the phone out. Lando cackles loudly from the other side of the FaceTime call.

“And he said you’re the bad driver.”

Jumping up, you nod profusely. “My fucking point!” The brunette briskly ends the call before tossing the phone onto the counter. I think that’s enough, don’t you think? You bite back a much needed smile as you shrug. “I’m gonna go take a quick shower, old man.”

Carlos would like to say that his ego wasn’t hurt, but that would be a complete lie. Maybe it was just a tiny bit bruised. Your words circle his mind as he grows more annoyed. He knows he shouldn’t be because he knows you meant it all as a joke, but now he feels like he has a point to make.

He still had some control.

Humming to yourself, you calmly finish rinsing your hair, making sure to get all the shampoo out. You’re about to turn around to grab your vanilla body wash, when a pair of strong arms wrap around your waist. You scream as you push away, slipping and falling on your butt.

“Oh shit.” Aiming a harsh look at the 29 year old, you throw your head back as you let out a deep sigh. Why, Carlos, why? Hurrying to help you stand up, he kisses you all over your collarbones. “I’m sorry! I just wanted to surprise you!”

“Consider me surprised.”

His long fingers brush down your waist and in between your thighs. You let out a small whimper. “Forgive me? For almost killing you twice in one day. It wasn’t my intention.” He slips in a large finger. “You know it wasn’t my intention.” Your eyes have fluttered shut as you nod. I know it wasn’t. He smiles as he starts circling his finger inside your velvety walls. Letting out a moan, you rest your forehead against his chest.

The temperature of the warm water and the sounds you’re releasing are enough for him to become a tad bit too needy. Pulling his fingers out, he licks them before looking down at your confused expression. Without a single warning, he lifts you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his torso. You shake your head; eyes wide with worry.

“We’re gonna die if we do this.”

He shrugs, a long strand of hair pressed down against his face from how wet it’s become due to the running water. “What’s one more close call?” You’re about to protest, but that quickly goes out the window when you feel him thrust inside of you. Moaning in unison, you tug on his brown hair.

“You’re insufferable.”

“I don’t care.”

Not a single time during your entire relationship have you done anything like this, so, it came as a complete surprise for him to be so good at not dropping you and being able to keep his dirty rhythm. Mewling against his lips, you clench around him harder when he keeps brushing against your g-spot.

“Oh-”

Pressing his lips deeper against yours, he groans. “Stop fucking talking.” But you’re too fucked in the head to register his words. Oh God, Carlos. Shit, shit, shit. You run your nails against his broad shoulders. Just like t-that. Fuck- He slaps a large hand over your mouth as he flickers his dark gaze to you. You can physically feel your soul leave your body. “I said to shut up.” He thrust harder as your eyes squeezed shut. “Shut up or I’m seriously going to lose my mind and I will drop you.” Blinking fast, you nod as you bite down on your bottom lip.

You would do anything in order for him to keep going.

It doesn’t take long for you both to finish together; ropes of white cum painting your insides. Letting out a shaky breath, you lean your head against the wall. He smiles as he sucks down on your neck. Giggling, you pull away as you grin ear to ear. “Where’d you learn how to do that?”

“I had this one girlfriend-” You pinch his ear with all your might as he lets out a squeak in pain. “¡Era broma!”

“Yeah, well, I don’t find your joke funny.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. It wasn’t right for me to say that.” Craning his head down to make you look at him, he lets out a weak smile. “There’s only you, for me. That’s it. No one else matters.”

Climbing down, you kneel down in front of him, taking in his large figure and delicate hand wrapping around his hard cock.

“Best believe there’s no one else.”

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whorekneecentral · 6 months

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Only The Best For You

Kimi Raikkonen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dad's best friend!kimi, reader is 20/21 - reader is old enough to make her own decisions, your dad isn't pleased with the gift, one mention of alcohol and one mention of death, sexual tension, kinda power imbalance, kimi gives into the intrusive thoughts, nipple play, fingering for like 0.2 seconds, one use of the word 'daddy' in a sexual way, penetrative sex (p in v), gagging, finger sucking, 'whore' used in a sexual/degrading term.

Word Count: 2,400

Author's Note: for all my dad best friend freaks and the kimi whores, this one's for you <3 -- also ignore that it's gucci in the pic but it's something different in the fic loool I couldn't find a different pic I liked.

merry smutmas series

Kimi spends the holidays with his old friends. He doesn’t forget you; bringing you exactly what you had been wishing for and you make sure to thank him.. properly.

An old L/N family tradition.

Since you were a child, your parents and grandparents allowed you to open one gift from them on Christmas eve, letting you enjoy the magic of Christmas a few hours early.

You were grown up now, in college and your grandparents had sadly passed on but your parents kept the tradition going. You had come home for Christmas break and it was Christmas Eve. Your parents have just finished dinner and you have moved to the living room.

It was yourself, your parents and your dad's best friend, Kimi. You had known Kimi your whole life practically but he was always away racing so you never saw much of him until lately, now that he's officially retired - for good this time.

"Shall we open gifts?" Your father asks, walking into the living room. He passed a glass of what looks like whiskey to Kimi, who was next to you, before sitting beside your mother.

She looks over at her husband. "Honey, isn't she too grown for that?"

Your father rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "It's a family tradition, now hush. Go pick a present."

Your mum picks first, picking one from your father that just so happened to be the new perfume she wanted. Your father was next and he picked out one from you. It's a story book he used to read to you as a kid, you had written all of your favourite memories of the two of you inside of it. You made him cry, both you and Kimi laughing about that.

"Go ahead, sweetheart." Your father nods towards the tree, you move from the couch to the floor, kneeling in front of the tree to pick out a gift.

A gift sticks out to you; red wrapping paper with little elves of it and your name written in cursive across the front of it. You pick it up, shaking it a bit to see what was in it.

It felt hard, as if it was a box. You looked towards your parents, "is it from you guys?"

Your dad looks towards your mom; she took care of all of the holiday shopping. The woman shakes her head, "it's not from us, sweetie."

The gift on your lap when you glance over your shoulder at Kimi. He gives you a small smile, so small you almost miss it.

He nods towards the gift, waiting for you to open it. You rip the wrapping paper very carefully, revealing the red box underneath; the gold lettering was cursive - Cartier.

Your jaw was already dropping, looking back at the man. "You didn't," you say and he nods again, waiting for you to open the box to see what was inside.

"Kimi, what did you do?" Your mother asks, looking over at your father. He was never one for brands or jewellery, he didn't realize that buying something there automatically was an expensive purchase.

Lifting the cover carefully, the velvet black fabric inside the box held a white gold chain, blue sapphires set along the entire thing.

If your jaw wasn't already on the floor, it would be now. "Kimi!" You turned to face the man, setting the box on the couch carefully. "You did not!"

"I did," he nods. He's always been a man of very few words; more of an action rather than words type of guy.

"What is it?" Your father asks and you hand the red box over to him for him to see.

He shows your mother as he holds the box, he doesn't realize that he's holding a little over €40,000 in his hands at the moment. "Oh Kimi, it's beautiful." Your mother gushes, handing it back over to you.

You were still on the floor, admiring the necklace in the box. "Well, turn around." Kimi says and you do, sitting just between his legs.

He reaches over to take the box from you and carefully takes the chain out of its box before you lift your hair. Kimi leans forwards and you can feel his fingers brush against your skin and his breath on your shoulders when he loops it around your neck and hooks the clasp.

"It looks gorgeous on you, darling." Your mom says, smiling at you.

Your phone's in one hand and your other hand gently touches the chain, straightening it as you admired how it looked on you. "Kimi, this is too much. It's so expensive." You whisper to him and he shrugs.

"How expensive are we talking?" Your father finally speaks, looking over at his friend.

Kimi answers nonchalantly; "Like.. €40,000."

Your father instantly sits up, his jaw hanging open. "What?! Kimi, are you out of your mind?"

"Please," he looks over at his friend in disapproval. His hand rests on your shoulder, his thumb passing over your soft skin. "She's a good girl, she deserves it."

You can't help but shift a bit when he calls you a good girl, the words hitting you right where you shouldn't. It was wrong, he was your father's friend and you were.. well, you were attracted to him. You couldn't deny it; Kimi was an attractive man and despite his lack of words, he was very charming.

"Y/n, say thank you. You can't not say it when he's spent so much." Your father tells you, and you turn around to face Kimi.

"Thank you, Kimi," you smiled at him, sitting on your knees when you reached up to give the man a hug. His arms wrapped around you, his warm hand pressed to your back. "You're welcome, angel."

Another nickname that hits you in all the wrong places.

As the night goes on, your parents head up for bed as do you. Kimi was the last one to bed from your understanding and as the house grew quiet, you tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

You find yourself sat on your bed, pjs on - a tank top and a pair of shorts with a €40,000 chain around your neck.

It was nearing 3am, the witching hours as your mum says. You find yourself getting up and heading downstairs. The initial thought was to go to the kitchen and get a glass of water but you got side tracked when you see a light coming from Kimi's room.

You knock, peeking around the space left between the door frame and the actual door. "Come in," he waves to you and you step in, shutting the doors behind you. The TV was on, a rerun of some show you couldn't quite place was on.

"What are you doing up?" He asks, glancing at his phone to check the time. "Do you know how late it is?"

"I couldn't sleep," you tell him, looking over at the TV. "Can I join you?"

He shrugs, nodding towards the empty space next to him. You quietly make your way over, sitting next to him on the bed. Kimi don't miss the way your shorts hike up when you crawl over to the empty spot; it's so wrong for him to be looking at you like that but can you blame the man? You were gorgeous and you were in his bed after all.

The two of you sit quietly, watching as the show rolls on into another episode. You unconsciously play with the chain, shifting it back and forth slowly.

Kimi looks over at you, smiling to himself; you were the picture of beauty.

"You're staring," you mumble, glancing at him. He smiles, like actually smiles. "You're beautiful."

Your cheeks are red, you hope that the light coming from the tv isn't bright enough for him to realize that just yet.

"It looks good on you," he says, "like it was made for you."

"Blue has always been my favourite colour." You smiled, glancing down at the chain. "Did you pick it yourself?"

He nods, "I saw it and thought of you, I figured you'd like it."

"I do, very much." You look over at him, Kimi smiles at you and your hand shifts from your thigh to his, rubbing along it softly. Kimi's brows furrow ever so slightly. He doesn't say anything, hoping that you'd stop if he ignores it.

You were persistent.

Your hand travels higher, about to rub over the ever so evident bulge in his shorts but Kimi catches your hand, holding your wrist. "We can't, y/n."

"Why not?"

"It's wrong," he whispers, glancing at the door - you weren't sure if he wanted you to leave or if he was catching to see if it was locked. You wiggle your hand from his grasp, Kimi lets out a small breath of relief; see, the man was stupid enough to think you were stopping.

You didn't stop. Instead, you got on his lap, straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. Kimi's hand rests on your lower back as he looks at you.

"Let me thank you properly," you whisper, lips ghosting over his.

Kimi reaches up, his lips pressed to yours but he's yet to kiss you. "You don't have too."

"I want to.. I want you," you mumbled, finally kissing the man. Your hand cupping his jaw, Kimi's hand slips under the tank top you had on and slides up your back to undo your bra but finds you don't have one on.

Kimi pushes the straps of your tank top down off your shoulders. You sat comfortably on his lap, letting him have his way with you and the man wanted one thing. He leans forward, arms wrapped around you as his lips wrap around your nipple.

“Kimi, fuck- please.” You mumble, your hand tangled in his blonde hair, tugging on it. As such as you loved the attention, you needed him.

He glances up at you, watching as your eyes fluttered shut. He groans when you pull on his hair a little harder but what's a little pain when he's making you feel good?

It was heavy, heated.

His hands on your body, pulling you over and onto him. You were perched on his lap, Kimi's hands on your ass when he kissed you again.

Not a word is spoken between the two of you and what little clothes you had on was gathered in a pile on the floor when he rolls you two over. You were flat on your back with Kimi settled between your legs.

“Please,” your hand rested on his jaw, “daddy, please.”

The pet name makes his cock twitch; it's sinful, so sinful in so many ways but he couldn't care less. You drove him mad.

His hand slips between the two of you, his fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit. Your hips lift, wanting more from him.

Kimi’s hand wandered a little lower, a finger pushed in slowly. He can feel how wet you are, wrapped around his finger and he smiles.

He moves his finger slowly, curling it. He takes pleasure in watching you, seeing how your face twists and how your body reacts to his touch.

"Please," you whimpered, "don't make me wait."

Kimi can't bring himself to say no to you.

He sits, pushing his shorts down and you get the hint, getting on top of him. Your hands grip on his shoulders, balancing yourself. Your knees on either side of his lap, Kimi's hand reaches under you to help you, the tip of his cock brushing against your clit, making your hip shift forward a bit. His free hand on your hip as you sink down onto him, his name tumbling from your lips.

You take a moment to get used to the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he rubs along your lower back, leaning into you to kiss down your neck.

You rock your hips forward and Kimi's head drops back, his eyes now closed. “Fuck, you’re perfect.” His hand pats your hip, “made just for me.” He tells you, your lips now on his neck - a trail of marks and sloppy kisses being left along his neck.

He pulls one of your legs up forward, pulling you down further. “Fuck,” you breathe, his thrusts faster and harder. How you wished you could scream his name right now. Kimi's hand drops between the two of you, rubbing your clit.

Your head falls back, manicured nails digging into his pale skin when he hits the spot he was looking for. He watches as you bounce on his lap, the sapphires around your neck bouncing in rhythm with you. His fingers that were previous on your clit now shoved into your mouth to muffle the sounds tumbling from your lips.

Your brows furrowed, an excited look on your face despite it all. You can feel his cock twitch in you, his lips next to your ear when he leans in.

"You've got to be quiet, angel. Wouldn't want them to catch you being a whore for me, hm?

You mumble something along an okay, your hips bucking, telling him you want more. Your tongue laps around his fingers, Kimi watches as you suck on them. There's a wicked smile on his face, his hips lifting to meet you halfway.

He lets you take over, setting the pace and using him for your own pleasure. Kimi leans forward as his lips wrap around your nipple. His tongue lapped over your nipple, biting on it softy; just enough to get you to arch your back, pushing into him.

“Come on darling,” he mumbles against your skin, now kissing up to your collarbone. Kimi's hand behind your neck to pull you down for a kiss. “Want you to cum for me.”

His arms wrap around you when you drop against him, your face buried against his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds. “Good girl,” he hums, rubbing your back.

Your heart beats out of your chest as you catch your breath. Kimi smiles, kissing along your shoulder. "Feel good?" He asks and you mumble something, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I take it I should spoil you more often, hm?" He chuckles, making you smile when you sit up. Kimi straightens your necklace, kissing your chin.

You shake your head and smile. "Don't have to spoil me for me to do that."

Kimi smiles at you, giving you a kiss. "Merry Christmas, y/n."

"Merry Christmas, Kimi."

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#kimi raikkonen #kimi raikkonen smut #kimi raikkonen x reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 smut #merry smutmas xoxo

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kxsalt · 22 days

Text

An evening of laughter over dinner. The young lady sits at the table with a couple, sharing wine and stories. Ever since the pair had moved back into the city, she had quickly grown very close to her friend and her new husband. From the first time she saw them together, the single girl thought they were a perfect couple. She watches them share a kiss with a pang of jealousy and another emotion her inexperienced soul can’t quite describe yet.

A week later the girl rides the train home after a terrible date. The woman had no romantic intentions and was only interested in selling health supplements. Already exhausted, she opens her dating app to see a hundred shirtless men holding fish. She closes it again with a frustrated grunt. The girl arrives at her station and starts to make her way through the crowd.

Up ahead, in the throng of people, she spots her newlywed friend. Her heart jumps, and she pushes through the mob to try and get close to her. I can’t wait to tell her about my horrible date. Maybe she’ll want to hear about it over dinner again. That unfamiliar feeling returns. Getting closer, her friend steps out of the human traffic, standing with a man she doesn’t recognize. The girl is only a few metres away, but invisible among the other passengers.

She watches her friend pull the strange man in for a kiss.

Disbelieving her own eyes, the girl freezes. Even as annoyed people bump into her, she watches, mouth agape as the married woman makes out with the stranger.

What am I seeing. I must be crazy. She wouldn’t cheat on him, they’re both perfect… for each other. I must have this person mistaken for my friend.

The kiss breaks and the woman laughs. A laugh as unique as a fingerprint. The girl sees every detail of her smile.

Oh god, it is her. Why me? What am I going to do?

She returns to her empty apartment, feeling strangely heartbroken. Her husband is an amazing man, doesn’t he deserve to know? Is it none of my business? How could she do this? The next few days are torment. Wracked with guilt from her involuntary secret, she decides to take the unenviable step of telling him about his wife’s infidelity. I have to. It would hurt him more if I didn’t tell him. And it would help her in the end. That unfamiliar feeling cracks through her fear.

Arriving at the couple’s home, the girl feels like she’s going to have a heart attack. Welcoming her in, the married man makes her a cup of tea. The girl is obviously distraught, and he tries his best to calm her down so she can talk. A word salad spills from her mouth, and she starts to cry as she explains what she saw. The man’s face falls as the girl becomes more overwrought. She finishes her story, looking at his soft, compassionate expression.

“I am so sorry that you saw that. I can see how upsetting this is to you. We were always worried that something like this would happen. I’m sorry it was you.”

The girl stops crying, disoriented by his response. She expected him to be angry, or sad, or devastated. But his only concern is for her. He doesn’t seem hurt in the slightest. The man brings her some tissues and encourages her to drink her tea. Sitting down beside her on the couch, he gently starts to explain.

“When we first started dating, we were seeing other people, too. It kind of just… never stopped. We felt comfortable with it, and we knew we wanted to be with each other… It’s changed a lot over the years. When we became official, we would give each other passes, for a date or a night of fun. Always equal. We agree on a pass, we each hook up with someone, and then we come back together. I know it’s unusual, but it works for us.”

The girl is bewildered by his explanation. He continues:

“When we got married, we knew it would change again. We both want to settle down, find a different way for us to do stuff like this without chasing random people. Actually, this pass is supposed to be the last time... Like that at least. I’m so sorry that you got so upset by what we’re doing. You’re a good friend, I know you care about both of us so much. I can see how that would terrify you.”

Her head swims, she stares at the wall. The adrenaline of her mission has worn off, replaced by confusion and embarrassment. He calls his wife and asks her to come home early, so they can explain everything together. A half hour later, she rushes through the door and envelops the young girl in a big hug. The couple holds hands while they answer her questions. The girl relaxes. Her heart warms when she sees them kiss, confirmation of their love.

Feeling as if she has intruded enough, she gets ready to leave. Excusing herself to the bathroom before she goes, the girl sits on the toilet pondering the night’s conversation.

Out of all the possible outcomes, this is the best I could have hoped for. She washes her hands. The best I could realistically hope for. The girl is confused by her own line of thinking. Anything better would be impossible. She dries her hands. What else could I wish for? The girl stares at herself in the mirror, that strange new feeling wells up inside of her, stronger than ever before.

Leaving the bathroom, she finds her friend waiting for her.

“Thank you for being so understanding… I know it’s a lot. I know you came here because you wanted what was best for us, even though it was scary. I admire that. He admires that. You’re a good friend.”

“Thanks, I’m sorry I got so far up in your business… Good luck now that you’re through the ‘giving out passes’ phase. I hope whatever you two do together brings you closer together.”

“Oh, well, we’re not quite done with the pass thing yet.” She subtly points into the living room. “He hasn’t used his pass yet.”

“Ah, well, if I see him with a girl I won’t come crying to you. Haha.”

“Haha, yeah. I mean he could use it with whoever he wanted to. That’s how it works.”

“Right, you explained that earlier.”

An awkward pause drags through the conversation.

“Do you want to stay for dinner tonight?”

“I feel like I already overstayed my welcome.”

“You haven’t. I feel like we should make it up to you.”

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know.”

“I want you to fuck my husband.”

The conversation screeches to a halt. The girl stares at her friend, dumbfounded. They start to talk over one another. You don’t think I’ve been trying to sleep with him, do you? No, I just thought you might like to try it. I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble. It’s no trouble. Wouldn’t it be weird? I don’t think so. Does he even want to? He’s brought it up before. Isn’t that weird? I brought it up first. I’m wearing ugly underwear. I could let you borrow something.

“I’m afraid it would feel like cheating.”

“I could watch, to support you. So you know it’s okay.”

The young lady’s heart almost leaps from her chest. Why did that convince me? At a loss for words, she nods her head.

Standing naked in the couple’s bedroom, she paws through her friend’s clothing. A mixture of fear and excitement whirs though her mind. Taking out a tiny pink thong, she slips it on and steps in front of the mirror. Her familiar emotions mix with the unfamiliar ones. Why does it feel so hot, wearing her lingerie?

A knock at the door, her friend enters. “You look beautiful.” The young girl blushes unexpectedly at the compliment. “My husband will love you. Are you ready?” Another emotion, another nod, more confident this time. She summons her husband.

He gives her a kind smile as he walks into the room. A loving peck on his partner’s cheek, and the man steps towards the new girl. His arms wrap around her waist and their lips touch. They surprise each other with a deep, passionate kiss. Their tongues flirt, their noses rub, their hands roam. His kisses work down her cheek, and into her neck. The girl gasps and looks over to his wife. Relief and joy as she sees her gorgeous smile. His wife’s lips move, whispering. Keep going.

Eager to please them, she reaches down to feel his cock bulge in his pants. The man groans and returns the favour, grasping her wet pussy through the skimpy thong. They touch each other, faster and faster, kissing open and free. She unzips his pants and starts to stroke his cock. He lifts up his shirt so she can see him. His body looks better than I ever imagined.

Dropping to her knees, she takes him in her mouth. The faint taste of his precum overpowers her senses. Fingering herself wildly through her friend’s tiny underwear, the girl does everything she can to make him feel good. Glancing over at his wife, she sees her rubbing her bare pussy. She’s lifted up her dress to touch her breasts, too. Her body looks better than I ever imagined.

The trio are thoroughly excited. Nobody can wait for what comes next. He lifts the girl up and tosses her onto the bed. She spreads her legs and pulls the thong to the side. The husband pushes her legs up against her chest. “Oh god, it looks so good.” The wife chimes from her spot in the corner. He rubs his hard cock against her exposed pussy. “I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

The tip, the head, half way, all the way. There’s no going back now. The married man’s cock stretches out the single girl’s pussy, and they exhale. Enjoying the warmth of his wife’s friend’s body, he starts to stroke his cock in and out of her. The girl trembles, getting used to his size. The wife gasps, rubbing her clit as fast as she can. They fuck each other, making out while the tension releases. The girl is overwhelmed by pleasure and excitement. She starts to encourage her friend.

“Your husband’s cock is so big! Ah~! It’s so good! Ah~! So big… Ah~! Your husband is fucking me so… Ah~! Good!”

“You like that, you dirty little slut?”

“Yes, I love it.”

The couple on the bed roll over. The girl takes his hands and puts them on her ass. A firm grip, and he pulls on her bumcheeks. So he can get deeper. So she can see every inch enter her. She bounces on his dick, thrilled at the thought of how little her friend’s thong is hiding. She feels her orgasm build inside of her. Quickening her pace, the girl will finish soon.

The sounds of a woman cumming fill the room. The couple look over at the wife, helplessly masturbating as she fingers herself to completion. They look back to each other, grinning. “Now it’s my turn…” The girl giggles, playing with her clit while his strong hands pull her up and down on his cock. They kiss passionately again. The girl cums on his married dick, picking up where his wife left off. Pushed over the edge by their chorus, he fills her sweet pussy.

They lie there for what could be an hour, could be a few minutes. The girl slowly climbs off of him, and walks past his wife, also basking in the glow of her orgasm. She heads down the hall, back to the bathroom, to wash up after their encounter. Looking at herself in the mirror again, her unfamiliar feelings beat in her chest. An epiphany strikes her. Like a ray of light through the clouds, she understands herself.

Stepping back into the hallway, his wife is waiting for her again.

“I really, really, enjoyed that… I hope you did, too.”

“It was almost perfect.”

The girl walks up to her. She wraps her hands around her waist. Their lips meet, they kiss. They push back into each other, letting the taste of their first embrace waft through them.

Their fingers touch. Holding hands, tugging lightly, they walk each other back to the bedroom.

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tarjapearce · 7 months

Text

Strawberry Jam (Pt. 3 Finale)

Dad Best Friend! Miguel x reader

WARNING: FILTHYNESS UNDER CUT. P in v, unprotected sex, age gap implied, Dad Best Friend Miguel, breeding kink, wedding night sex, rough sex, manhandling, oral, m receiving, f receiving, reader is 21+ , pregnancy.

Summary: You've married Miguel. Celebration ensues.

Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 😊✨

If someone would have told you that you'd marry your dad best friend a few years back, you surely had believed them crazy.

Back then Miguel meant someone to stay away from, out of respect for your dad and the many years they shared as friends. But after that evening you had shared, with him buried deep inside you in the kitchen island, everything changed. And it went both ways.

It changed for good since there was no more restrictions and inhibitions. No moral code that prevented him for coming for you and sweeping off your feet. Your dad wasn't happy initially, and his anger lasted for a couple of months.

But slowly thawed when he saw Miguel also trying his best in being a good partner for you. His friendship was also put at stake and that took a while to fix as well.

Your dad was both disturbed yet relieved, to put it in words. Disturbed because one of his worst case scenarios had turned into a wicked reality. Something he had a hard time accepting, despite him telling you it was ok.

Being angry wouldn't make you both break up, and it only made his blood pressure to go up. But his role as a protective father had been long terminated ever since Miguel came to your life as your official partner.

He wouldn't have to worry for your wellbeing anymore. He knew you'd be more than fine with him.

It helped to soothe his nerves to see you close to Gabriella. Something that took you a while.

Gabi wasn't easily convinced, but seeing your unwavering and steadfast resolution to be with her precious Papa, and that you didn't want to steal him from her, made everything ten times better.

To starters, Miguel seemed happy that Gabi had accepted you, despite her initial doubts and complains. His relationship with Gabi was always a hundred percent honesty and trust. He could never hide something from his little girl.

Despite your age, and many people thinking you a gold digger, you remained on Miguel's side. Supporting him as he protected you from snide comments and jealousy from the people in Alchemax. While he got congratulated for finding such a lovely and delectable soon to be wife, you got the backlash from the women and upper boss' that either never had a chance with him, or were too much of a bunch of prudes to accept the fact you were marrying him.

He quit a couple of weeks later after you did. And no amount of money could convince him to get him back. It was simple.

"If you aren't comfortable working there, neither I am."

Of course he was tired of hearing things like 'I'll give them a year.' 'She just wants him for the money. Get him a richer dude and you'll see.' And 'She's so naive if she thinks he loves her. He's a perv old man.'

Only you knew how much Miguel loved you, and he knew you too well to pay attention to gossip and brickbats.

You both found a new job in a better place, even if that meant you'd move in definitely with Miguel.

You were concerned because no matter how many times he came inside, there was still no signs of a baby. To your relief, doctor explained that after many years of being in contraceptives your body would have an adjustment lapse for all the hormones to be flushed out of you. Pregnancy would come, eventually.

It was good and bad. Good cause Miguel fucked you dumb for hours almost everyday, and bad cause you couldn't wait to get a bigger family on your own.

Obviously you were excited and so was Miguel and Gabi.

But a new adventure laid ahead. Your wedding.

----

Miguel had invited a couple of his coworkers a woman named Jessica, and a couple of men named Peter and Ben. The only family worth inviting was Gabriel.

Gabi was the ring lady. It was a small and intimate reunion. Once you were delivered in the altar, Miguel held your hands. A sense of pride filled in his chest.

You looked absolutely gorgeous in that short silky dress. Like his own dream come true. And when the moment of saying 'I do' came, neither of you hesitated.

All the bad moments you both had gone through, quickly dissipated to be replaced with joy and love. He loved you.

Gabi loved you, and you couldn't be happier.

You were his queen after all.

----

After the private wedding you all went to celebrate to one of the most delicious and luxurious places in town.

"You better eat, mi amor. You'll need alot of energy."

He'd mumble in your ear as his hand caressed the suppleness of your inner thigh.

Gabi was left with uncle Gabriel, and with a final hug, your father let you go.

Your dad rolled his eyes and Miguel sniggered as you both went to his car.

"I'll take care of her."

"Shut up."

Miguel opened the door for you and kissed your cheek before letting his new wife to accommodate in his car. He then went to his seat and drove off.

"Bye dad!"

"Love you, cupcake!"

"We're married."

You giggled and he took your hand to kiss it.

The car stopped to a red light and he pulled your cheeks closer to give you a deep kiss. The kind of kiss that would mean he needed you. The kind of kiss that would turn into this raging ache for eachother that could be sated one way.

"Do you feel happy?"

"Obviously."

Your body shuddered upon the feeling of his dexterous fingers hovering your clothed pussy. Your legs spreaded for him to have more access.

"Can't wait to get to that hotel, preciosa."

Your hips humped softly his hand, earning a soft yet delicious friction.

"Pull that dress down, mi amor." He instructed as you quickly slid the straps of your silky white dress off your shoulders, spilling your breast for him. The idea of getting caught seemed even more thrilling when a group of people marched infront of your car. Of course they couldn't see what was going on inside.

His penchant for exhibitionism had rubbed hard on you. Just like his suck on one of your nipples. A wet patch filtered through your cotton panties.

Your hand wasted no time in squeezing his crotch. He gulped.

"I've always wanted to do this."

Your giggles increased as you unzipped his pants and peeled his cock our of his confinements.

"Are you hungry, cariño?" He heaved as you pumped him softly, earning a hiss and a low growl from him.

You kissed him once more before stuffing your mouth with his cock.

He threw an arm over your seat, relaxed as you sucked him.

"Fuuck- take deep breaths, Princesa" His eyes shut close for a moment, but the sudden mini concert of honks snapped his attention back to the road.

He drove carefully. Steady breaths huffed out of his mouth as you took him deeper. All that cock sucking training had been worth it.

"Jesucristo, hermosa"

His eyes drooped as your tongue focused on his tip. Wet sucking noises etched in his memory, and my God, he loved them.

"Lemme... lemme find a... Dios mío-" He choked as your hand pumped him faster as your lips busied themselves with his sac, "Lemme park. I can't-" He gasped when you took him whole once more, your throat shamelessly constricting against him.

"Yes~" He hissed as his hips bucked, trying to fuck your lips. You whimpered and let him go last minute. He took a fistful of your hair and pulled you to kiss him. Tasting himself in the process.

Smirking you went back to your seat after fixing his pants. Seeing him all rizzed and worked up made your boldness to spike. Your hips shimmied away from the cotton contraption, and you threw them in the back seat of the car.

"Miguel?"

His eyes immediately went between your spreading thighs. Your back rested against the passenger door and your fingers delved in between your slick folds.

His mouth gaped. His throat dried in dire need of a drink of you. A finger slid inside. The squelching sound it did sent shivers down his spine.

"Look at what you do to your poor wife, Miguel"

"That's so not fair, cariño. I'm driving"

He bit his lip at the sight. You were soaked and ready to be filled to the brim. Just the way he loved.

"Keep playing with it, though. Love hearing you cum"

Your soft moans and wet pussy made his insides tingle. All he had to do was wait to get to the hotel so he could actually get his revenge on you. And by God he would enjoy it.

"Wish it was you inside me" You whimpered as your fingers delved in deeper, tight hole melding at your finger's size.

"You'll have me, preciosa. Just wait."

Your soaked fingers toyed and curled on your insides, earning more coos and moans. His feet pressed the accelerator deeper as he drove through the streets.

"Faster, mi amor"

He instructed giving occasional glances at the mess you were creating between your legs. A mess he would love to stuff his face in right now. His cock twitched almost painfully at hearing you touching and toying with yourself next to him. He had ruined you in so many ways he couldn't help but feel pride. And now that you were his wife, none could tell him no.

A smirk stretched on his meaty lips when the hotel came into view

You quickly went through the motions, check in, people taking your luggage to your room and blah blah blah.

"Stop." You whined but complied. Your body could almost taste your orgasm. But seeing the hotel coming closer in your vision relaxed your aching cunt. You didn't care if he had to take you on the elevator, but he needed to do something, instead he took your fingers and licked them clean to then kiss you.

---

He locked the door after putting the 'Do not disturb' sign outside the door. A chill invaded you as his gaze fell on you. You ran with an excited squeal and he chased with a wolfish grin plastered on his face.

Graying strands bounced as he pounced on you. Hands took a hold of your dress and ripped it in half.

His lips mumbled desperately on yours as he removed his clothes. His hulking figure cornered you against one of the suit's pillars.

"Hey!"

"Cállate. Te voy a conseguir otro" (Shut up. I'll get you another one)

Hot and desperate mouth mapped your skin as one hand held you by the neck.

"Need you now, preciosa."

His tongue curled in your folds as his other hand kneaded your thigh, prying it open before he sunk his face in between them.

Your eyes clamped shut at the sensation of him prodding and tasting you. Spine arched against the column as he kneeled and ate you. His hunger grew urgent with every lick and lap he delivered to your quivering flesh.

You gasped as he placed you to sit ontop of your shoulders, your hand grabbing his hair to push him impossibly closer to your soaked and loved pussy.

One of his hands secured your lower back, as the other held tightly on your thigh, securing you in place as he hoisted you up. You rode his face eagerly, getting as much friction as you could from his lips and tongue. A firm slap on your ass encouraged you to ride faster. Your clit trembled with joy at every contact he did with his mouth. He groaned.

The low vibrations of his groans ignited the spark for your aching release. His slaps alternated between rough squeezes. Your thighs smothered his head, trapping him tightly. Lightheadnesss rushing through your brain, as your breaths turned shorts and shallow.

"I'm cumming!" You whimpered as your body went taut to then tremble. He drank from you, quenching his longing thirst. He placed you gently on the bed to then spread your legs.

The stretch his cock did inside felt deliciously painful. Legs wrapped around his narrow waist as he hoisted you once more against his chest to then hook your thighs on his forearms as his hands held you by your ass. Your arms went around his neck, holding onto him.

His hips rammed into you.

Your mouth went slack as your body trembled. Your insides kept constricting since you were still riding your high but he didn't care. He'd never get tired for the way your tight walls melted and shivered around him. It was addictive. Like the sheer and raw need for eachother you were basked in.

His hands guided your hips, a sweet and wet slap echoed into the room.

Your fingers sunk into his salt and pepper hair. His fangs pulling at your bottom lip. An iron grip squeeze and it was all he needed to rut in an air-knocking and jaw slacking pace.

Your head lolled to the sides, trying to grasp onto a coherent thought but none came. There was nothing but pleasure in your head. Each thrust reached deeper until his tip made out with your cervix. Nothing but the sounds of your drooling pussy taking everything he mustered at you and his low growls.

His pace increased into a faster tempo, and you curled into the crook of his neck, voice rasping and begging for him to not stop. The inside friction felt raw and hot, almost maddening at how well your walls welcomed him over and over. Inviting him to nest within them.

Sweat etched to his forehead and upper chest and back. Your meek attempts of marking him only added enough spice for his hips to keep wrecking your hole.

The feeling of your ass bouncing on his hands at every thrust he did and your breathless coos and begs, made him to grip tighter and fuck you rougher.

Mewlings turned into loud and choked wails as he drilled you through

"Give it to me, preciosa" He fisted your hair as he sheathed completely into you, and you creamed and gushed while your body convulsed.

"Such a fucking good girl,"

The contractions around his cock felt like a delicious kiss, just like the one he gave you.

He laughed softly at your state.

"You think we're done, Mi reina? How cute."

You panted like a fish out of water as he flipped you over on the bed and melded your body like putty.

His hand pushed your face deeper in the mattress as he planted his feet on each side of you.

"Levanta ese culo. Will fuck it like a husband should." (Raise that ass)

He slapped your quivering cheeks to lift your hips up himself. You were too high and cock drunk to listen to what he was saying. Your breast flattened against the bed, his feet planted on each side of your hips. One of his hands guided his tip inside you again to then hold at the metal headboard before him for leverage.

"M-Miguel!" You sobbed as he thrusted inside in a swift move.

"This is gonna be your treatment until you grow a fucking baby inside , sweetheart"

The relentless push had your eyes far far gone as he kept bullying his cock in such a brutal pace you'd thought he'd split you in two. He was so good at manhandling and stretching you open, and you were even better at taking it. Excelled even.

The constant slapping had you wheezing and your ass flushed. Your previous cum rolled down your inner thighs, it made easier for him to slid in an out.

And just when you thought he'd stop, he'd just slow down to unleash an onslaught of deep and merciless thrusts.

You clung to the sheets for dear life as meek and muffled sobs escaped you with effort. Your throat felt scrapped raw, he smirked at feeling your walls twitching again.

The bead and headboard creaked at his rutting. Your toes curled in and your jaw clenched at the force you crashed down. You soaked him, making a hot mess of your cunt. But that didn't stop him.

He pushed deeper a few more times before holding your hips in such a steely grip you were sure you'd get bruises and spilled into you. Hot and thick blobs of his cum painting your walls white.

He clawed at your skin as he panted and growled. One of his hands slicked his hair back and sighed with a satisfied yet wicked smile, but frowned upon watching his cum rolling down your clit.

"No no. it must stay inside." He grumbled as his fingers collected his cum to push it back inside and then slapped your ass. Earning another whimper of you.

His arms cradled you as his body smothered you. His lips showered your flushed face in kisses.

"Te ves tan preciosa así." (You look so beautiful like this)

You couldn't help but squeal while you hugged Miguel upon seeing the two parallel lines in the pregnancy test.

You scooted closer in his arms with the little energy you had left. Letting your shaken brain to finally take a rest, letting his hushed 'I love yous' and his gentle caresses on your hair lull you to sleep.

----

All the raw fucking had finally paid off. He cupped your cheeks and kissed you.

"Told you I'd make a mami out of you. preciosa"

You giggled as you texted your dad.

He chuckled and kissed you again.

"What are you doing?"

"Making my dad feel old and giving him the news."

He placed a hand on your lower belly and smiled.

"Wait til Gabi finds out."

"I hope it's a girl"

-------

"Are you happy?"

"More than happy, yes. I'm gonna be a mom!"

"A wonderful one, for sure."

Taglis

@um-well @capmedusa @migueloharaslxt @thbidkbutok @joestarbitch @angelarcheangel @ewan-tef @gejo333 @hyunrelics @topreice @luvstich@loonalockley @allysunny @punk-22 @jesterglitch @sc4rltwitch @roselove105 @spikedhe4rt @tallmanlover @elfwoodfae @miaasmf @lainekyuu @keiva1000

@nianawrites @leviathxn @tatatida @gabrielarose29 @pedr0swh0r3 @

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman 2099 smut #dbf miguel #Dad best friend AU #Older! miguel o'hara #smut #atsv smut #miguel o'hara fluff #t writes✨

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year

Text

See No Evil

Pairing: John Price x F!reader

Synopsis: The flowers came every week -- Tuesday, two O’clock, two minutes after your break. The only problem was that you knew they weren’t coming from John.

Word Count: 17.5k

Warnings: Stalking, violence, intense gore, blood, abduction, angst, fluff, protective!John, not quite smut, swearing, stereotypical ‘Bad Guy’ character who gets his ass beat, minor character death

A/N: Finished this at 3am so forgive the absolute deterioration of the plot near the end.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The flowers came once a week – Tuesday, two o’clock, two minutes after your scheduled break. The Triple Twos your coworkers would joke, slapping you on the shoulder with wide smiles and questioning eyes as they continued by asking if John had done something to piss you off. That was the only excuse to spend so much money on flowers every single week; the man had to have done something absolutely unforgivable.

You always found yourself fake chuckling at the accusations with a tense jaw and flickering eyes, looking to the empty corners and the glass front doors as the delivery man exits the building; whistling a tune. Choking down the bile in your throat.

The problem was that John hadn’t done anything wrong, and the tightening in your chest had told you that something more sinister was going on even if you didn’t know exactly what. Another part of you, the common civilian voice in the front of your mind, hissed that you were just being paranoid.

But something was just off.

There was always a note that came with the gift, and it was always stuck on a cardholder; the metal shimmering in the white light. It was a stark contrast to the black paper trapped in it, keeping your eyes transfixed like a void in the earth. You could feel your heart drop every time your gaze locked onto it and the blood-red lettering, like the fibers were bleeding with every stab of a long-gone fountain pen.

The flowers themselves made you pause the first time you had gotten them. Jess, the kind old woman who works the front desk, had come and gotten you herself, and that alone was unusual. Like a man wearing shorts during winter – not entirely uncommon, but still surprising when you saw it happen to say the least.

“Why,” Jess had muttered to you as you gave her a confused look as to why she was in your department in the middle of the day, “That John of yours is just the sweetest. The hydrangeas are the prettiest shade of blue, Dear. The man of yours was an absolute God-send. A pity I’m married – I would have tried to snatch him up!”

“Flowers?” You frowned, running over thoughts about presentations and powerpoints you still had to get done by the end of the day. Already you were at the edge of your rope, “What are you talking about, Jess, I don’t think that John…”

Jess had already bounced ahead, quite limber for her old age, you had thought before you followed after; sucking in a deep sigh. Turning a corner with the clack of your work shoes, you saw a flash of color in the otherwise dull gray of the lobby, kissing the sides of your vision.

“Woah,” Your eyes widened, taking in the sight in front of you as a hand lifted to your lips in shock.

The arrangement was massive – bigger than any you had seen except for one other place.

The first official date you and John had gone on was at a fancy restaurant downtown with similar gargantuan bouquets – a really nice place with candles and red tablecloths.

Throughout the course of the night, both of you had gotten to know each other exceptionally well, but it wasn’t like the two of you were unfamiliar in the first place. If anyone would have asked, many of your coworkers would have told about how, months ago, you had first started gushing about the most handsome man you had ever seen leaving the local library once more. Through many fake threats and warnings that if you didn’t snag the brown-haired Brit soon, they would steal him from you, you shoved down the nervousness in your throat and went to the library on your days off.

It was a week before you gained the courage to even look in his direction, and when you did, you had already found him sneaking glances back. You had offered a friendly smile, albeit a nervous one, and had flushed when he had given you a twitch of his lips and a tilt of his head back.

For six weeks you had gone back, borrowing books you had no intention of reading just to have a chance to speak to him – and when you did, you had both become infatuated with each other. John had asked you about any history book recommendations and you had laughed and said you only read fiction; the man had looked offended, but slyly commented that he would have to change your opinion over dinner.

It was easy to admit that you had agreed right away, body fuzzy and warm.

But on that first official date, you had told him something that you never imagined would come up again when the waiter had put the first-course dish in front of you. Blue Hydrangeas and pure white Orchids. Your favorite flowers.

“John sent these?” You had wondered aloud at the first vase of flora on the granite desk-top, blue and white immediately catching your eyes. Your chest had lightened with love. This was so kind of him.

“Look,” Jess had squealed, placing her withered hands on her cheeks. It was almost like she was getting the gift instead of you. Your lips had quirked in amusement, “There’s a note too. Quick, read it to me! I want all the juicy details.”

That was when you realized something was wrong.

Note? You had raised a brow, John left a note?

Your boyfriend was many things – loyal, brave, an absolutely lovely person to hug because of those muscled bear arms, and hard-headed when it came to you walking nowhere near the edge of the road – but a note writer? No.

If John wanted to tell you something he would tell you – whisper it into your skin as he leaves gentle kisses behind, mutter it into your hair as he brings you into a slow dance in his house’s living room. Smugly grunt it into the hot air as he leaves you sobbing from pleasure, his fingers curling inside of your heat.

Your nose had twitched at the smell of the flowers, but your digits had gravitated to the black note card and its red writing.

‘Thinking of you now,

Long to be with you always,

Morning, noon, and night.’

The paper crinkled as you held the edge slightly tighter, but other than that no outward expression told anyone how confused you were. This wasn’t like John at all and your feet fidget a bit as you try and think if you had missed a massive date on the calendar to elicit such a break in character. But no, you tilted your head, there was nothing going on today.

How did John even order these? You had raised your free hand and brushed one of the white Orchid pedals, He’s out on deployment, not down the street standing in the floral shop.

Jess was gushing at your side, and a few other coworkers come by and say how happy they are for you.

Maybe I’m just overthinking this – John can send flowers and notes whenever he wants. He’s my boyfriend.

Looking over to your coworkers you agree to a comment about how attentive John is, “Yeah,” You force a laugh and shove down the swirling in your gut, “He’s really great – you have no idea…Did you know he makes the best waffles I’ve ever had? He even brings them to me in bed when he’s home!”

Then the whistling delivery man, named Don as you had found out the second week deep into this strange event, had become just as familiar as your coworkers.

Which leaves us in the present.

Tuesday, Two O’clock, two minutes into your scheduled break. The Triple Twos.

You’re already waiting by the front desk, leaning back into it with the granite top digging into your back like a heavy hand. You try to stop the way your stomach twists when you hear Don whistling – Jess laughs to your left.

“Like clockwork, Dear.”

You don’t answer, only tighten your lips into a line; tap your foot on the floor. Your arms crossed.

If you had the option to contact John this would have been easier – ask if he was responsible and finally put this to rest. But your Lover had told you right before the relationship was made official that his job was demanding and that it could even put you in situations that would be less than enjoyable. John had long hours, few breaks with stretches far in between where he would be able to see you. No contact when he was away overseas unless you were in a life-or-death situation – too many possible variables of who could be listening over the line if you called.

“It’d make me feel better if I know there’s no chance of anyone coming back to London to mess with my girl, eh?” He had said, pressing a scratchy kiss to your forehead as he was about to leave your apartment to gather his gear at his home. John would be away for months this time, you knew, “Put my mind at ease about it. But don’t you worry, Love. I’ll be back soon, yeah? We’ll watch that movie you wanted to see when I’m home.”

Don opens the door, holding another damned vase with blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids sticking out of the top. Your eyes find the note all too quickly and your fingers tighten over your biceps.

“Hell,” The delivery man snorts at you, “I’m starting to think this guy is going to buy up all the Florists’ stock at this rate! The hell did he do? Cheat on you?”

You roll your eyes, not replying to the comment and never doubting John’s loyalty to you in the slightest. Muttering a soulless ‘thanks’ before moving to help Don, you take the object from him with a grimace. The vase is like iron in your hand – heavy and cold to the touch akin to a corpse. Like death gripping at the slim vines of life, petals blooming through its fingers.

“I still wish you’d tell me the name of the person who ordered them,” You utter, moving to drop the vase with a plunk on the front desk. It was like you were repulsed by even touching them.

Jess narrows her eyes, “What?” She comments, tone exasperated that you were bringing this up again, “Do you think someone else is going through all this effort? Come on, Dear, no one but John would send these. They’re your favorites!”

“See you next week!” Don calls behind his back, already sneaking out the door to continue his work.

“I don’t know, Jess,” You run your hands over your face, pushing back the hair over your forehead with a groan, “Something just seems off about it. This isn’t like John – if it was I wouldn’t be making a big deal over it, I mean, why would I? I like flowers as much as the next person, but really? This is a bit much.”

“So what I’m hearing in the man never gets you gifts?”

“No!” You snag the black paper note with your fingers, huffing, “The flowers aren’t the problem – It’s the damn note that throws me for a loop.”

“The note?”

“It’s a fucking Haiku – since when have I ever mentioned John writing poetry?” Your voice turns into a gruff imitation of what it once was, “The man is romantic, sure, but he definitely doesn’t take his time to write out poems. He writes so many reports he barely picks the pen back up after he throws it down.”

Jess hums.

“Oh, maybe he’s just trying out a new pass time – perhaps he’ll come back to London as the next William Blake, hm?” The older woman waves her hands around, creating grand gestures as you watch with a blank face and a raised brow.

“Now that’s funny.”

John had hobbies – reading and cooking being two of them. The only time he wrote was when he was working on reports from an Op. and locked away in his office to make sure you never saw what he was getting red, tired, eyes over.

“There are some things that I never want you to see,” He had told you when you had asked what he was working on once. You had come to his house to visit, and he promised to go out with you when he was finished with a report to Laswell, “Images that have no right living in that beautiful brain of yours.”

“Why should you have to see them, then?” You muttered, gazing into his eyes with concern. He put so much on himself, “Don’t they make you sick?”

“Yeah, lie of the century, that is,” He had smiled stiffly, dragging you into his arms as you melt. Your hands wrap around his tapered waist, sighing, “But it’s the mission. Someone has to get their hands dirty. And I’d rather it always be me than anyone else – least of all you, Love. I’ll be ready to go in half an hour, copy?”

“Well,” Jess sighs, typing something on her computer, “Is the note the same as the last four times?”

You blink, and look down at the tiny paper you had been strangling in your grip. Black and red – just as always. Freezing you look at the letters and numbers written in that fountain-pen script. It takes you a moment of realization before it feels like a knife hits you in the heart, breaking open your ribcage and splaying the bones into the light.

Your lungs chill over, air stagnant and unmoving so that your breaths are reduced to gasps. The pulse inside of you increases so suddenly that your feet stumble and your skin vibrates as your veins work overtime.

The red script burns the exact address of your apartment building into your retina.

“Call the police.”

—

“Hello, this is Kate Laswell,” The voice over your phone wafts into the lifeless air of John’s home, and your skin crawls as it bounces off the walls. It felt wrong to you – taking refuge in John’s place without telling him first. But going back to your apartment wasn’t an option, “...Hello?”

With a start, you realized you had forgotten to reply. Placing a finger on the drawn curtains to the front window, you peak outside with tense shoulders, eyes roving the empty street.

“H-hi, Kate, I know this is probably stepping over a line, a big one, but I found your office number in John’s house,” You give your name tersely and clear your throat before stating you were the man’s girlfriend. Laswell stays silent, letting you explain yourself even if she was overwhelmingly confused. You appreciated that immensely. If she were to start asking you questions you might start crying, “but I would be really appreciative if you could tell him – if John’s even working with you on this deployment, that is, that I have to stay in his home for a few days… o-or a week…possibly.”

It didn’t take an expert to know that you were shaken, your voice cutting out at the wrong times as the phone picks up the static of your constant movement and fidgeting. Your eyes follow a white car as it drives down the street outside, pupils small and eyebrows drawn in. You drop the fabric and take a step back, sucking in a deep breath.

Focus.

A pause over the line makes your heart beat faster as you begin to go and pace the front hallway. There’s a paranoia in your blood that oozes out into the lines of the hardwood and around your socked feet as you zip back and forth.

Kate utters your name over the phone slowly. She doesn't ask why you’re in John’s house or why you're staying there, just gets to the root of the problem, “...Are you alright? Do you want me to mention anything else to-”

“No!” You gasp out, waving your free hand in front of you, “No, I don’t want to make him distracted. I just…” Your voice trails off, air getting harder to suck into your lungs.

A gentle sigh flows out over the call, and the sound of a body shuffling closer to the landline. Feet sliding over the floor.

“What’s going on, Dear?”

You stop pacing.

Laswell was a good deal older than you, you knew, and the tone she was taking reminded you of a mother who was trying to console a child; particularly one who had just hit their head after falling to the ground. Smooth, calm, and with a kind insistence. It made your chest tighten as you swallowed down saliva in your closed throat. Your eyes sting.

“I-” You rub a hand up to your cheeks, feeling the heat enter your clammy palms as a glassiness coats the back of your eyelids. Before you knew it, everything comes spilling out in a spew of hiccupped breaths and tears, “Something’s been happening at work for a while and the police are involved,” You try to steady your voice, “But…but they can’t do much because there’s no imminent threat to my safety. Yeah, well, the problem is that this fucking freak knows my address and I didn’t know where else to go.”

Your story jumps around, telling of the flowers and the notes. You take no linear path and instead you have to go back steps and explain that you didn’t even know who was doing this. By the time you had finished, you were sitting on the floor, knees drawn to your chest and sniffling. Your clothes were ruffled from you constantly flattening them down, wrinkles like veins visible in the fabric.

Kate coughs over the line as you come to a sobbing stop, trying to muffle your panic with a hand to your mouth as you tilt the phone down parallel to your chin. Tears drip from your face one by one.

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying in his house,” Laswell speaks slowly, trying to ease your nerves and stop the panicked breathing over the call, “I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?”

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp, wiping away the waterworks with your hand, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that.”

—

John had gotten a text from Laswell just as he had finished taking off his gear, the small bleep from his phone distracting him from the straps of his leg holsters. He blinks, furrowing his dark brows and looking at the black device as it sits on the bench. The changing room lights fizzle for a moment, and the bear of a man spares them a grunt.

The Captain’s athletic shirt is neatly folded under the phone, the fabric creased and drowned with sweat and dirt. He walks over with only his cargo pants on, liking the way the chilled air felt on his flushed skin as the adrenaline from the latest step in the mission wore off.

AC, he decided, was one of man's greatest inventions. His dog tags clink over each other around his neck as a trail of sweat dripped down his abs.

John’s fingers snatch the phone, one hand going to unbuckle his belt so he can take a shower and wash all the grime from his body. The lights bounce off his physique, biceps becoming more prominent as he brings the phone up, but before he looks at the screen the back of his hand travels to his forehead. He takes a moment to wipe at his slick skin before sighing and itching at his hairline. Bringing the phone down, John looks at the screen absentmindedly, preoccupied with the thoughts of warm water to ease his aches and the forming bruises over his skin.

Laswell: “Get to my office. ASAP. It’s about your girl.”

John stops, his pants only held up by his tense hips; his free hand at the front zipper about to send the slider down the tiny metal teeth. He utters your name with a grunt of breath, eyebrows furrowing as a concerned frown overtakes his face.

It takes half a moment for him to shuck his pants back up and grab his nasty shirt from the bench. John shoves his feet into his mud-slick boots without a second thought; he doesn't tie the laces, instead, he shoves them into the sides. Sending a reply with one hand, he’s rushing out the door in under fifteen seconds, heart taking off like a plane and pulse being re-set alight. His jaw clenches and his tags bounce as he thunders onwards.

Price: “On my way.”

His feet hammer the floor, sending small shockwaves over the ground as the man rampages on. John sprints past room after room and runs down multiple hallways before finally getting to where he needs to be with stiff limbs. He grasps the side of the open doorway with a heavy hand and all but swings himself into the next hallway before he skids to a stop at the first door on the right. An all-encompassing grip is slammed onto the metal handle, and he mercilessly twists before opening it with his other hand on the woodgrain; his shoulder ready to ram the barrier open if it happened to be locked.

It wouldn’t have been, but John’s mind isn’t thinking straight. In his head, all he can do is come up with the worst possibilities. You, dead back in London, or severely injured due to a freak accident, maybe on life support with no hope of waking back up. There were too many options – John had simply seen too much, he knows that if the worst could happen, it will. But fuck nothing was ever meant to happen to you. Not you. Anyone but you.

You were supposed to be safe – always.

The Captain doesn’t bother to knock before the door is swung to the side. Your voice is the first thing that John hears, high-pitched and strained as you sob into the landline on Kate’s desk. Papers had once scattered the woman’s workspace, but all are pushed to the side as Laswell’s hands are clenched on the metal top; full attention on the hysterical lady a world away.

Kate snaps her hardened eyes up to John watching as his chest heaves before bringing a finger to her lips. Her expression twists into a frown.

Clenching his jaw, John feels his heart sputter at the sounds from the landline – what were you saying? His ears strain as he pushes the door closed with a muffled click, feet unconsciously carrying him to your voice like you were in the room with him. He wishes you were. John stops by the edge of the desk, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides before he crosses them over his chest; fingers digging into the meat of his arms.

His feet shuffle and he picks up the sniffled words of ‘don’t know him’ and ‘figured out where I live.’

Laswell sends him a glance as John’s eyes widen, beginning to paint a picture for himself of what was going on. A heated rage flies through his bloodstream, lips pulling back in a snarl, but he stayed silent so he could let you speak.

Has her address? Where is she now?!

“I’m sure John won’t mind you staying at his house,” Kate mutters calmly, slowly, and John is thankful that the woman was who you had decided to call – even if he felt bad that you didn’t think you could get in contact with him directly for something like this.

I told her not to, He lays his hands on the table, leaning closer to the landline, and takes a deep calming breath to help his head from exploding, Bloody hell, I made her feel like she shouldn’t.

John’s face steadily gains a red sheen of self-hatred under his beard and over his cheeks. He would have made time for you – found a secure line and waited for you to call. So why hadn’t he done that yet? He should have checked in.

The man brings a hand to his face, running it over his beard and pulling at the strands. There was just so much going on with the Task Force that it must have slipped his mind. Laswell continues from her seat at the desk chair, not oblivious to John’s state.

“I’ll call my contacts in your local police force, alright? We’ll get someone on this; just take a breath for me, okay?” John hears your static-filled voice let out a muffled whimper and he suppresses a flinch, breath getting caught in his throat. He never wants you to make a fearful noise like that again.

“Please, don’t tell John,” You gasp out and the two in the office pause – John becomes as still as a statue, his face pained and eyes widening – they hear you wiping away tears with a ruffle of fabric, “It’ll make him worry too much.”

Against his better judgment, the man lets a small, emotionless, quirk of his lips grace the tense atmosphere.

She’s the one being stalked and she’s concerned about me worrying about her? Damn this woman. If only she knew how much I actually think about her when I’m away, regardless. I couldn’t not think about her well-being if I tried – halfway around the world and I can’t get it together.

“I think it’s a little too late for that,” Laswell speaks after a moment. John hears you suck in a quick breath and he takes a deep intake of air in turn, filling his chest and trying to ignore the scent of his own stench. God, he really needed a shower, but warm water was nowhere in the vicinity of what he was thinking about right now. Not anymore.

You took precedent. Always.

“...John?” Your voice wavers out, thin and cautious.

“I’m right here, Doll,” The Captain utters, speaking softly as Laswell grabs her personal phone from the top drawer of the desk and slinks away – going to make that call to her contact no doubt. She sends him a close-lipped smile, nods to the exit, and walks out of the room. John tilts his head in her direction as the door closes, “I heard the last half, alright? Don’t you worry about a thing, it’ll all be sorted. Stay at my place long as you need and don’t worry ‘bout making a mess,” He nods his head even if you can’t see him, body wanting to hold you to his chest, “Even have your favorite snacks in the pantry for you, Love. Stocked up a few months ago just in case you ended up staying over…lucky guess on my part, yeah?”

“The chocolate ones?” You snort wetly, and John smiles in contentment at the noise of your slowing breath. Hearing you calm down was making his own pulse return to normal. You were okay – for now at least – and that was enough to make the tension in the man’s shoulders subside; the clenching of his fists on the table loosen. But there was a special section of his heart that held the knowledge that someone had made you fearful for your life – left you crying and desperate to have protection from the unknown. And here John was, not able to even press a kiss to your head. He can’t help the sliver of self-resentment at the thought, “But I…I thought you hated those?”

“Hm,” John grunts, conceding just for you. He tries to push his anger aside and force out his teasing comment, just focus on her, “The bloody things grew on me. How can I hate something you love so much? Especially when you’re making fun of me for not liken’ ‘em.”

A content silence falls, with your body shuffling occasionally as your try and find your bearings again. The man knows your mind will come back to you if you just focus on him; just like his own would. John’s lips fall into a line.

“Darling,” He whispers, but knows you can hear him by how you make a small noise in the back of your throat, “I need to ask you, how long has this been going on?”

John's ears pick up a sigh, “A little more than a month,” The Captain’s eyes close, head slightly turning down into his chest as his fingers drum the desktop, “I just…I thought it was you at first - even if It felt a little off, you understand? Then the most recent note had my apartment address on it and I-I panicked. I didn’t know where else to go except to your house. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” John firmly states, eyes flaring as he moves to sit in Laswell’s chair. A slight creak echoed out as he puts his weight on it, leaning forward intently, “Never apologize – this is some pathetic Muppet’s fault and will never, for one moment, be yours…Now, you stay at my home and lay low for a while. Did they give you time off from work? If not, I’ll send a call to your boss and–”

“You can’t just do that!” Your voice is coated with amusement, light laughter playing off your lips as you interrupt his methodical and soldier-like rant. John stifles a deep chuckle, closing his eyes and listening, “I already took a week off, I promise. I was just planning on staying here and letting things cool down...Just wanted to let you know first.”

John’s lips release a hum before he runs a hand over his beard and scratches the skin under the bristles. Dirt and flecks of ash fall to the floor, but he doesn’t notice.

“I’ll see if I can’t finish up here within the next few weeks. Come back to London early and help you figure all of this out. Look into it myself if I have to.”

“You don’t have to do that, John. I know your work is important.”

“You’re important, Love,” The man teases, “The Op. over here has run dry, the leads have gone for the moment and there’s no reason for Laswell to keep us here cleaning the empty rooms; I know for a fact I’m able to make sure you’re safe far better than anyone else back home. I can be back soon,” He growls, and his accent becomes thicker as he continues on in the ‘Captain Voice’ you had grown to love, “I’ll bloody make sure of it.”

“How have things been, by the way?” You ask, steering the conversation away from you, worried about how his efforts had affected him. He sounded tired, “Everyone’s alright? No new injuries, I hope. I don’t know if I can deal with you coming back and having another gunshot wound right now – you know how I get when I’m doting over you.”

“Hm,” John huffs, amused. He remembers how, when he had come back once with a shot to the thigh, you had practically restrained him to the bed as you ran around like a chicken with its head cut off. You had cooked, cleaned, and even helped him into the bath as his humongous body had towered over you. But it wasn’t like he was complaining about the last one, “Nothing to twist your hair over.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Only scrapes and bruises on my part. Should’ve seen the other guy.”

Laswell enters the room silently as you giggle, heels not making a sound as she lowers her personal phone from her ear and closes the door behind her, “My contact is en route to your house, John. He’s going to check in and get a statement. With any luck, she’ll get a security detail to bring her to and from wherever she needs to go.”

“You hear that, Love?” John shifts his narrowed eyes to the landline after nodding.

“Yup,” You muttered, spirits now higher and the waver in your voice noticeably gone. There was no doubt that over the line you were calmer than you had been in probably over a month. John just had that effect on you, “I really can’t thank you enough, Laswell. And I’m so sorry for invading your privacy by calling you like that.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Anyone important to John is just as important to everyone over here. We take care of our own…The man that’s going to be coming to your door is named Mahdi Karim – black hair, tanned skin, and a cut just above his right eyebrow. Should be in a police uniform.”

“I’ll be on the lookout. Thank you, Kate. Truly. If you ever find yourself in London, I make a great casserole – just ask John. My door’ll be open.”

Laswell smiles softly, wrinkles disappearing for a brief second, and John can’t stop the wave of love that sweeps his gaze. He stops a lovesick sigh just before it enters the air.

“Be safe,” Kate tells you, “I’m sure John will be in touch with you soon and I’ll be sure to have a secure line ready to go.” Laswell nods before turning to John, “You were needed in building five for a debrief fifteen minutes ago. Gaz has been asking around for you…sorry, but you’ll have to make the goodbye quick.”

John looks away, jerking his head into a firm nod and groaning out, “Affirm. Tell the Sergeant that I’ll be there in a minute for me, yeah?”

“On it.”

“I’m sure Gaz is ripping the place apart for you, Love,” You laugh, and John’s eyes snap to the landline to give his attention back to you. Like a wave in an ocean, “Don’t keep him waiting. From what you tell me the boy can get into a startling degree of trouble when you’re not with him…something about falling out of a helicopter?”

John feels his chest jerk with chuckles. What did he do to deserve you? Someone who could make him forget about the aches in his shoulder muscles from the stock of his M13 – forget about the layers of sweat, blood, and dirt seeping into his pores; death lives on him like a second skin. But, strangely, you either didn’t notice or didn’t care. That was the part that struck John every time you barreled into his chest when he came home – you stayed by his side so adamantly; waited every time he left and was over the moon when he returned.

You love him, and he doesn’t think he deserves it. But like the selfish man he is, he’ll keep you at his side as long as he’s able, and love you back just the same. You were one in a million. And the thought of someone reducing you to something other than a god-send – to a mere object someone could prey on was enough to reduce the Captain to a feral rage.

If I ever get my hands on the prick that made her feel like this, he’s as good as dead. Mark my fucken’ words – he’s dead.

“I’ll call you tonight, Love, you alright with that?” John clears his throat, grunting as he stands from the desk chair, “Around 0900 your time?”

“That’s nine O’clock, yeah?” You continue not waiting for him to answer, “...How late is that for you?”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m still ‘gonna call.”

You seemed to know that trying to sway him on this was pointless by the way you muffled an exasperated laugh, “Alright. Nine O’clock. I’ll answer.”

“You better,” John huffs, “Goodbye, Love. Talk to you soon.”

“Bye, John. Be safe – Love you.”

“Love you, too. Be safe for me.” He whispers, letting you hang up the phone instead of him. Kate and he stand in silence for a moment before John growls, eyes suddenly burning. It was like his only tie to being civil was severed after your presence – even as limited as it was through a call – disappeared, “I want whoever’s doing this put in cuffs before I’m back in London, Laswell, yeah? Otherwise, it’ll be someone else's bloody problem to pick up the pieces I leave behind of whatever bastard is responsible for this.”

—

Mahdi Karim was perhaps the only person in London that listened to you. He had told you in a soft tone as the both of you sat in John’s dark living room that he would work on the case you had brought forward personally – with the influence of Kate Laswell giving him all the jurisdiction he needed.

You had briefly wondered how far Laswell’s hand reached into the inner working of the city’s police force but had decided it was probably better if you never figured that out. For just one American CIA agent – she sure knew how to play the game to her favor.

“I’ll make sure to have another officer with you when you need to leave the house – Mrs. Talley – whenever you need to go somewhere she’ll be just a call away.” Mr. Karim had told you as you fiddled with your fingers in your lap, “And I’ll be at the station working on leads. Kate told me that you had handwritten notes?”

“Yeah,” You cleared your throat, nodding as you stare out the window; the street lights come on outside with an automatic timer. Your lips flattened, whispering out, “They’re all in my work bag.”

God, you wished John was here. He would have held you to his chest with a firm hand on the back of your head; all-encompassing and steady as his heart beat directly over your ear with a steady thum-thump, thum-thump. John’s heart was always something of a comfort to you. When he was with you, staying the night, you wanted to keep your head on his chest and feel the melody of his pulse lull you into a slumber – like your own personal lullaby.

It reminded you he was here; alive, and in turn, it kept you steady. His gentle kisses to your hairline were just another perk along with his fingers carding through your locks. Whenever he did that you swore you turned to mush, just like a cat letting out vibrating purrs. There were so many things that John Price did that could calm you down without even trying – the way he slow danced with you when you put his vinyl records on, his fascination with old movies to the point his eyes would light up when he explained them to you, and the press of his gargantuan body laying on top of you.

That last thought brought a smile to your lips. He was always worried he would crush you.

“You sure, Love?” He would ask when you smiled smugly from your position lying on the couch, “I’d hate to have my girl suffocate because she asked me to lay on top of her. You trying to get me arrested?”

“John,” You had laughed, “I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe. I just want to feel you. It’s like a weighted blanket – just more you shaped! Come on,” You whine playfully, arms outstretched and making grabby hands, “Please?”

The man huffed, smirking before shaking his head and sending you a warm glance. He stalks over to come and lay on top of you, his thin shirt letting you memorize the press of his abs and pecks sliding over your body; the dig of his biceps over the small of your back as they circle behind you. John lay in between your legs, forcing them open and around his fitted thighs before your limbs slip down his legs. Your hand had gravitated to his soft brown locks, messing them up lovingly with a chuckle and a soft smile. The Captain’s head was tilted up, beard itching your neck as his grip over your waist lightly squeezed over your shirt. You stared down at him with that look on your face – the one you reserved only for John.

Against better judgment, you feel a heat enter your body at the heavy press of his pelvis slotted perfectly into you. And the way he was staring up at you, his large nose just by your chin…

A cheeky smile filters over your boyfriend’s bearded face as you caress his forehead with your thumb. John’s eyes crinkle.

“This what you had in mind, Doll?”

“Oh, don’t tell me you don’t enjoy this, Captain.” His eyes had sparked, narrowing as he paused a moment.

A deep chuckle rattled against your body, and John tried to press you tighter into him; leaving you softly yelping in surprise, eyes widening, even though the glee stayed. The action was incredibly soft and left a deep yearning in your compressed lungs. As you sucked in small breaths, you found John’s dilated eyes watching you closely; like a deep blue river around a circular black rock. The gaze left a heat flowing to your face and neck – a pulsing in your lower body. You resisted the urge to roll your hips as your legs tighten around his own.

“Hm,” The man grunted, making your breath stutter for a moment. He felt it and smirked.

“Hm, what?” You ask breathlessly, John’s nose moving up your neck and tilting your head back.

You open the skin to him readily; your skull falling back to the arm of the couch. Gasping, John’s lips pull apart, teeth grazing your pulse point before finding the one spot that makes you whimper. He lays open mouth kisses and swift nips, leaving the area red and pulsing causing your eyelids to flutter shut with pleasure. The heavy set of your boyfriend’s build makes the sparks that he leaves behind with his mouth increase tenfold. The man’s fingers dig into your waist, kneading the flesh.

You let out a breathless whimper as your hand trailed through his hair, pulling at the roots and leaving John grunting as they get messed up. Suddenly, with a sharp and confident bite to that perfect spot behind your ear, his hips lightly jump up into you; pelvis bones digging into the skin of your inner thighs as the fabric of your shorts hitch up.

A breathly keen escapes your lips before you can bite onto your lips to stop it. Burning, your face moves closer to John’s as he licks the hickey he made and blows on it. You shiver as his lips pull in a smirk against your skin.

“This your plan all along, Pet? Get me to give you a good fuck?” John clicks his tongue, “Naughty girl. You know what you do to me – just had to bloody ask if you wanted me stretching you open.”

His accent always became more pronounced when you both were horny; rutting against each other like animals. John sends another thrust up into you and your eyes roll back, eyelids snapping shut at the steadily growing feeling of wetness staining your panties. Fuck, you needed him – now.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you. If you like me pressing into you so much, maybe I’ll take that cunt of yours right here, yeah? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucken’ hell I think I enjoy this just as much as you do.”

“Please…” You sigh, gasping as John grabs your hips and starts to force you to move in tandem with him; fingers digging into your bare flesh. Fuck that felt good – all his weight on you as your breath was forced to puff out when his chest bore down on you with every orchestrated pump of his pelvis.

“Please, what? Use your words now…Hm,” He angles deeper, and your nails dig into his back, sliding under his shirt and attacking his skin, “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? You’re trying so hard to get me in that cunt of yours, might have to hurry this up.”

“Please, C-captain.” Your face burns, words coming out muffled as his lips smash to yours and forces his tongue down your throat.

“...There’s a good fucken’ girl.” One of his large hands moves to your abdomen, just about big enough to span the entire area of your skin before traveling down slowly to enter your shorts. His callouses burn so perfectly.

Shaking your head, you realize Mr. Karim was waiting for you to give him the notes. Startling, you stand and send him an apologetic glance before rushing to the kitchen and grabbing your bag off the counter, rifling through it with a quick hand.

Pulling out all of the black paper notes, you turn back to Karim and shuffle up to him, “Here.”

Holding out the notes and trying not to look at them, the man takes them from you with a gentle pull. Mahdi gave you a pitying look.

“I’ll get these dusted for prints and try and see if we have any records of the handwriting in our database.”

“Okay,” You mutter, nodding, “Do…you need me to come with?”

Mahdi shakes his head, hair moving around his head, “No. You’re free to stay here and get your bearings.” The man stands, his officer uniform’s badge glinting in the light from outside, “How about you order out? Get some food and take a nap, yeah? Leave the rest to me, Ma’am.”

He makes his way over to the front door and you trail behind, flicking on the outside house light for him but leaving the interiors pointedly off.

“Stay safe. Lock the door after me, okay?”

“Yeah,” You lock your fingers together in front of your stomach, “No problem. Drive carefully, Mr. Karim, and thank you for coming by.”

“Anytime you need something done and no one’s listening – come directly to me. Sleep tight.” With that, the officer opens the door and disappears, going to his car in the driveway. Closing the door immediately after his departure, you watch his vehicle take off into the dark night with a tight chest.

Clicking the double locks and turning off the outside light, you suck in a deep breath before turning around and falling back to place your spine on the woodgrain. You slide to the floor, eyes turning glassy.

Mahdi said to order out – not strain yourself. But you had no appetite, even if you hadn’t eaten lunch today. Your stomach was in twists, intestines clogged with bad thoughts and concern. Closing your eyes, you waited for John’s call tonight at nine, tension living like a weight over your shoulders and neck.

You would have much preferred your boyfriend’s mass holding you down instead of this, but no matter how much you wished you knew he wasn’t coming back to you for a while. But you’re patient. You can wait.

—

You still hadn’t gone back to work even after Jess had told you the flowers had stopped – about two and a half weeks later. The older woman had said over the phone that Don had come by the building to explain that no more requests for delivery were coming in, either. That had made you breathe a sigh of relief.

Maybe this is coming to an end, You had thought while pulling John’s green comforter closer to your chin, fixing the position of the phone over your ear as Jess comments on the handsome officer that had come in and asked about you.

You blinked, cocking a brow.

“I told him you were staying at your boyfriend's house – had to give him the street too – though I don’t know why he had to ask me, Dear. He seemed quite pushy too. Such a dreadful boy. It’s a good thing you found that John of yours, I–”

Your ears started ringing halfway through the word vomit, eyes stuck onto the ceiling as the whites show like snow in the corners of your orbs. The quivering of your lip was the only part of you that moved – frozen over with frost and piloting stiff limbs. The comforter was suddenly suffocating you.

“Jess,” You calmly spit out, breath hitching as you interrupt. The woman pauses over the line, and she asks if you were alright. Ignoring her, your fingers turn numb, “Did he show you a badge?”

“Why, yes, of course, he did – it was a silver…oh…oh my…”

Silence falls, a tense rope being tightened over your throat as you sit up slowly, pushing the covers off of you with a shaking hand.

“Police badges are gold.” Dropping the phone from your vibrating fingers onto the bed, you rush to the dresser, pulling on John’s gray sweatpants over your underwear and grabbing a stray t-shirt to sit on top of your thin tank top. Nearly tripping over your feet, you huff out uneven breaths as you hang up on a blabbering Jess, quickly finding Mahdi Karim’s contact information and slamming a finger onto the green call icon.

It takes three rings before the man picks up, and hot adrenaline is lighting your nerves; telling you to run and hide. John’s scent – gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke – is ingrained in the clothes you wear and yet you can’t bring any comfort from it. Your bones weigh more than lead, one hand going to cover your mouth to stifle a ragged inhalation as Karim’s confused voice comes through the receiver. You jump into an explanation with a waving hand, and the man says he’ll be over himself in just fifteen minutes while another officer goes to your work to get a statement from Jess.

He hangs up first.

Fifteen minutes, You think about calling John but don’t want to phone him on his flight. He had said he should be back today or tomorrow the last time you both had spoken – when he was boarding the C-17, the whirling of the large plane’s engines blocking out everything else besides his voice. Carrying yourself into the living room, you reach up and close all the curtains; double-check the door locks, and clutch your phone in your hand with white knuckles near your hip, I don’t even know how long this guy has had his head start on me. What if he’s already outside the door?

Licking your lips, your mind runs with scenarios – what if this deranged person broke down the door? Ripped the window off its frame and jumped in? Your eyes snapped to and fro as your feet shuffled back over the hardwood; trying to figure out if you should go wait for Mahdi somewhere not near the front of the house or stay to make sure no one suspicious was walking outside.

You chose a middle ground, moving into the kitchen and pacing with your bare feet as the morning light streamed in from under the fabric barrier over the window. Fifteen minutes passed far too slowly.

A knock sounded on the door, and you rushed to the entrance to sneak a look out the sidelight. Mahdi stood shuffling in his uniform, peering behind him and speaking into a radio on his vest with tight features. You open the door with a shaking grip and usher the man inside with fearful glances behind him.

Mahdi takes a few steps inside, keeping the door open behind him and frantically grabbing you by the arm. His eyes are wild.

You yelp.

“We have to get you to a secure area – quickly.”

“B-but I–” You send a glance behind you, not entirely willing to leave John’s house and the familiar solace it brings. You only utter half a sentence, not even able to explain your hesitance, before a sound like a great boom echoes into the morning air. Some type of liquid splatters the side of your face, dripping down your forehead before falling off your chin and your eyes snap shut instinctually.

Only able to flinch with a slight yell, you turn back just in time to lock onto Mr. Karim’s face. Or lack thereof.

Half of the man’s visage was gone – white skull visible to the naked eye as the eviscerated tendons of his jaw leave the orientation off; hanging off his face and only on the unmarred side. Mahdi’s brain matter was splattered over your face, and your eyes widen in horror at the realization that you can see what remains of the officer’s cerebrum in the now half-circle of his skull. His remaining eye was bulging like an egg – nearly popping out and bouncing on the floor.

All of this happened in only half a second – the gunshot, you getting bathed in perhaps more blood than you initially realized, and then the limp body of kind Mahdi Karim falling into you; dead. His weight hits your numb body, your eyes wide, and your mind a thousand miles away as your arms snap to steady him. Your phone falls to the floor, with a deep thump, and at this point, you don’t register the fact that the man’s dead in your arms until it’s too late.

His head hits your shoulder, and your ears twitch at the sound of a wet splat – something mushy hits the floor before you stumble a few steps backward. Baptized in blood. It coats you like a second skin. How could a human body hold so much blood?

“...Mahdi?” You whimper, ears ringing and body shaking so badly you feel the man slide off you. The corpse slams to the floor, vibrating the hardwood.

Your hands are held outstretched, fingers clenching and unclenching in shock. You don’t notice the shadow running up to you before the man has you by the wrist. The phantom utters your name into the air just as you notice the neighbor across the street rush to her front window.

“I’ve got you. Don’t worry – I’ve got you.”

Reality comes to you in the thin moments between the realization that Karim’s body was bleeding all over John’s foyer and the knowledge that you were being dragged outside. For everything that was going on, you can’t help that your first coherent thought is ‘John’s going to have to replace the hardwood. That’s so expensive…I’ll have to pitch in.’

When your heels get skinned on the hard concrete is the exact moment you felt a shred of sanity come back and weave its way into your brain.

“What the fuck?!” Screaming, your arm jerks back, eyes borderline feral as the adrenaline finally prompted you to consciousness. Looking up as the stranger's grip only tightens to a painful degree you stifle an enraged wail.

The man was familiar to you – not in a ‘this is my friend I've known for years’ type of way but more of a ‘this is a man I’ve seen in passing’ you think to yourself.

It was the waiter.

The fucking waiter from the restaurant you and John had gone to for your first official date. He had heard you talking about your favorite flowers while he poured you wine…

But that was upwards of a year and a half ago. Your skin crawled, feeling violated in such a way you had never experienced before.

As you feel your heart bursting through your chest, you bring your opposite hand up and clench it; trying to land a sucker punch to the bastard's smug face as he stares at you with dark eyes. Your fist grazes his cheek, bearly causing a reaction.

His other hand holds a revolver, glinting in the light.

Before your shock-filled brain can attempt to understand what's exactly going on, the Waiter’s gun raises as your nails scratch at his face, peeling back skin and leaving red lines behind. As the butt of the weapon slams into your temple, the last words you hear are uttered right next to your ear – foreign lips whispering the sentences and making you want to throw up. Maybe you do, but you can’t be sure at that moment.

“I’ll take care of you, Orchid. Better than John Price ever could. Steady now. I’ve got you.”

Hands drag you by the arms, and you hear the opening of a rusty car door before you’re thrown into the back seat. Images swirl in your vision, and blood makes your skin taunt with gore.

Your last thoughts are of John’s blue eyes.

—

The first sensation you feel is the tight bindings over your wrists and ankles. They weren't rough – and you instantly knew the restrictions didn’t have the fibers belonging to hard rope. Keeping your eyes closed as the pulse in your head pounds to a degree that leaves your hands shaking, you strain your ears. The wooden chair keeping you up leaves your neck limp; chin compressed into your collarbone.

To your left, your ears twitch at a noise. Classical music wafts like wind off walls you choose not to open your eyes and see. But based on the echos the room is small – not large enough to allow the tune to carry far. Your feet shuffle, and in the process your knee slams into a hard object that leaves you clenching your jaw to stop a yelp of pain.

The jolt causes a reverb of wood sliding over the floor. Lightly peaking an eye open your blurry vision lands on the tall table in front of you – the stain is patchy, with paint flecks living on the legs as you look down. A morbid curiosity flows through you, and your horrified gaze jumps from one object to another; your chest palpitating.

Everything in this room was worn down, old, and ancient. A radio sits to your left on a nightstand with one duck-taped leg; the momentary static that overtakes the eerily playing tune shows that the device was having trouble receiving the channel.

Where am I? You ask yourself, looking at the table with a set of dust-layered plates and utensils. Two wine glasses glint in a single overhead light attached to a roof that comes to a sloping stop. This looked like a dingy attic room – the type where the Christmas decorations were shoved away to rot for a whole year and where young children were terrified to enter. Sniffing as your hands experimentally clench, you catch the scent of rotting wood and water damage.

“...What the…?” Your lips grunt out, shaking your head to dispel the fog as you notice the blue silk bindings keeping you tied to a white-painted wooden chair. No one else was in here except for you, “What is this?”

Jerking your arms, your mind runs over the obscure facts that John would drop – either calling attention to the true crime shows you would watch in your free time or simply because of his extensive service career.

Most people who are abducted are killed within a short amount of time from when they’re taken…three out of five women who are in this situation are sexually assaulted, abused, or exploited, You pull more heavily at your binds, feeling one on your left leg loosen as you let out a wavering sigh of achievement, Only 0.1% of people are abducted by strangers.

“Fucking hell,” You whimper as a pulse from your blood-stained temple leaves you light-headed, “Add me into that percentage, I guess.” Your thoughts border on hysterical, sweat coating your hands as a humorless chuckle shakes from your throat. You have to bite your lip to shut yourself up from divulging into loud barks of laughter.

The silk digging into your skin holds, and you don’t dare make any more noise than you already are. Looking around frantically, your flickering eyes land on the twin forks on the table; tantalizingly out of reach and mocking you.

“Oh, screw you,” Growling, you throw your head back and try and look behind you, straining your neck to a point you start restricting your airways – maybe there was something of use?

Nothing. Just a window covered in newspaper and the faint glow of a setting sun. You hadn’t even thought of the time. How long had you been unconscious? The blood staining you from head to toe was all dried and made your clothes hard and stiff; the wound at your temple had stopped bleeding. You licked your lips and couldn’t stop the sting in your eyes.

Hours had passed. Precious hours.

John has to be back in London by now, You reason, hoping against hope, He knows I’m gone and’ll be on it in no time. I have to hold out until then.

Gasping at your lack of air, you turn your head back around and cough into your shoulder raggedly; sucking down breaths. Black dots fly over your vision in squiggly patterns.

In that moment of trying to get your lungs to understand you weren't dying, a sound had started up from below your feet in this decrepit house. At first, you hadn’t noticed it – the thumps so muffled your mind had mistaken them for your own skipping heartbeat, but then there was muttering.

Someone was speaking to themselves downstairs. Your body froze; becoming so still that not even your hair moved with the shallow puffs from your nostrils. It was like your nerves had turned to stone, and your ears strained to hear.

“...hope she likes it…worked so hard to make it perfect…” Footsteps bounce off the wood as your eyes stay locked onto the door directly across the room. It wasn’t long before the handle started to jiggle.

Keeping a scream locked in your throat, John’s voice comes to you from between the racing of your mind.

He had been telling you about how he was captured by Russian Special Forces on one of his Black Ops. – totally alone and unable to contact his team.

“But I had to play their game,” John had muttered into your hairline; laying gentle kisses as you caressed a long scar up his abdomen and right peck. He grumbled his appreciation, shivering as your nails raked through his chest hair, “Make them think I was giving them what they wanted until I could loosen the rope.”

“That sounds stressful,” You had murmured, pressing your lips to his raised skin and feeling his mustache nuzzle your forehead with a delicate scrape, “How did you manage it, Love?”

“Well, I had years of practice under my belt.” John’s eyebrow rose with a smirk, “But they also knew what to expect from me right off the bloody bat – I just had to surprise ‘em; to keep them on their high horse. A little white lie is better than a punch to the gut, eh?”

The door opens, and a plan already starts to form before it closes with the click of a lock.

“Orchid!” You flinch, your body throwing itself back into the chair as your head snaps to face the entrance. The Waiter’s head of blonde hair was greasy with a product – slicked back and trimmed. Red marks are traveling down his face from your nails.

He was handsome, tall in a lanky sort of way, and in a suit; holding a handful of blue Hydrangeas and white Orchids. Even looking at the flowers causes your stomach to roll; bile to fill the base of your throat and burn to be expelled.

You decided at that instant that you never wanted to see any type of flower again for the rest of your life.

“You look stunning, My Love!” The man exclaims, rushing into the small space; placing the flowers down on the table delicately, and grabbing you by the cheeks.

You let a small sob, trying to move farther back but his fingers only dig deeper and threaten to break skin. Something flashes over his dark gaze, irritating perhaps, or pleasure from seeing you finally in front of him? You don’t like either option.

Play the game; buy time.

But could you play it correctly with all the raging blood pumping through your veins? Hot sweat slithering down your spine like a snake? Would John find you before something horrible happened?

“What’s the matter?” The Waiter asks you, caressing your cheek with one of his thumbs, “I’m sure I didn’t hit you so hard you forgot me? Right?”

“O-of course not.” You choke out, voice hoarse. If your chest was any tighter it would implode on itself.

The Waiters eyes brighten.

“But,” The light overhead sways, and a slight pattering over the window hints at a coming rainstorm, “I think I must have forgotten your name – my head hurts really bad.” Stifling a yell, the man’s head rears back in surprise.

“I’m so sorry,” He gasps, removing his hands and shuffling back a few steps. You move your wrists experimentally, but the silk was still tight over you, “I was just so concerned you might start screaming,” The bastard dares to laugh, a sultry bark of a sound – nothing like John’s deep grumble, “I’m Colby, there, now you must remember me.”

Colby was speaking so normally it made you even more afraid of him, but you still made a smile flicker over your quivering lips.

“That’s right,” You say, “Colby. I remember.”

He smiles with all teeth, but his eyes hold nothing inside of them; his dress shoes click over the floor as he shuffles to the opposite end of the table to the empty chair. Colby moves the plates and utensils. One is placed carefully in front of you and after a moment the position is fixed by his slender fingers like he had envisioned this moment millions of times over.

“I’m making dinner downstairs – Honey Roasted Duck. One of your favorites. You told,” Colby grumbles, venom leaking into his tone. His digits tighten before they slam a fork down on your plate. Your legs jerk, knee once more slamming into the table leg and making you hiss in pain. Colby doesn’t notice, thankfully, “John Price when we met for the first time, but I always listened better than him. He’s never made you Honey Roasted Duck before.”

“Yeah, I know.” You try and reason, body shaking violently; your leg starts to struggle as you attempt to loosen the already slack silk of your left leg, “But, uhm, how am I going to eat my favorite food if my hands are tied?”

“I’m going to feed you myself. Don’t worry, my Love.” Colby looks up and shakes his head, locks flying. He sets the glasses down and takes a step back, looking at the scene with roving eyes.

“Oh,” You swallow the saliva in your throat, “But I don’t want to be a burden. I just want to–”

“No!” Colby suddenly yells, eyes flashing and making you release a yelp in fear, “I’m going to help you – what don’t you understand about that?!”

“Okay!” You appease, waving your hands up as far as their able. A panicked look crosses your face and your eyebrows draw in, “Okay, but c-could you at least loosen them a small bit, please – I promise you I want to stay with you but my arms are losing circulation. It’s hurting me, Colby.”

Colby’s expression is hesitant, lips taking a downturn as the storm outside starts to pick up, the wind hitting the house and shaking the walls. Rain slaps the window like tiny bullets.

You try not to think about Mahdi Karim – about his body laying in John’s foyer. But he had been so nice to you. Your head starts running, running over possibilities about the officer's life. What if he had a family? A spouse? Kids?

Fuck, Your throat tightens, and your nose scrunches right after. Tears burn the side of your vision and a slight sniffle enters the stale air. Everything becomes blurry in a vile vale of waterworks. The agony at your temple increases as you tilt your head up to the ceiling, don’t cry.

“No, no, no, Orchid,” Colby pleads, “Don’t cry! I’m sorry it hurts but It’s for your own safety.” He rushes over grabbing onto your shoulders, digging his fingers into the meat of our skin over John’s bloodied shirt.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You scream, your voice echoing off the walls as you begin to struggle. You weren’t John. You couldn’t play this game, “You goddamn freak! You killed Mahdi! I’m-I’m covered in his blood!”

A clammy hand snaps over your neck, restricting your airways.

Your eyes bulge; body stiffening as your mouth gasps open like a fish. The grip is hard – firm – and you already mark the way your legs try and break out of the silk from under you in desperation. Your mid-section dances around, arms bounce, and hands splay.

Colby only stops when you feel your own saliva drip down the side of your mouth, and the struggle has left your body until dark dots nearly swallow you whole.

His hands fall, and your head does as well. Wheezing and feeling the burning in your throat, above the ringing in your ears, you make out the man’s sobbing snarl.

“Why would you make me do that?! God, can’t you see I’m trying to make things work?! God this is all that John’s fault. He’s the one that got in the way!” He stomps out of the door, slamming it so loud that everything on the table either falls to its side or hits the floor. The click of a lock is heard a second later as you try and will away the burning in your lungs as lightning cracks outside.

Gasping and feeling your tears slap your sweatpants like a river, you whimper under your breath but find that speaking only makes your neck hurt ten times worse, “John.”

You stay in that room for two days. No food. No water. Colby had all but disappeared except for his muttering from downstairs and his shuffling; the occasional shadow would stand in the hallway just behind your door. In all that time the storm hadn’t let up and from what you could tell there was a leak in the attic ceiling because the constant drip of water was sounding off from behind you.

Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip-drop.

You don’t know when the idea first pops into your head – maybe it’s when Colby finally peaks inside on that second day near suppertime – but since seeing the broken pieces of the plate on the floor a grim silence had settled in your bones.

Colby doesn’t linger and with a promise of coming to check in on you later and ‘make up’ the deep swelling bruises along your neck pulse. It felt like your entire throat was held under a knife that was slowly being rocked back and forth like a seesaw, peeling back the blackened skin until your tendons and nerves were open to the air.

Swallowing a thick glob of saliva and mucus down your dry throat, your foot catches on one of the longer plate fragments which ends with a razor-sharp tip. You know the sharp edge bites into your flesh, piercing it as your toes angle it just right but silk was an easy fabric to rip if you got the right angle, and pain had now become secondary.

Survival was all that mattered – not how, just that you made it out of this with your head screwed on.

What would John think about all of this? You numbly wondered, hunger and thirst working their way through you as your foot tilts up, heel hitting the floor. With a tooth biting into your lip, you drag the fragment back and begin pinching it into the flesh of the front of your upper ankle – right where the top edge of the silk skins you. Struggling the last two days had given you nothing but weeping wrists and ankles; blisters that leak puss and stain the blue fabric a nasty yellow.

Sucking in a quick breath that leaves more tears gathering in your eye sockets, your lashes flutter over your cheeks just as you hear a small tear. You jerk your leg up, and the silk completely falls from you, ripped with the sound of a zipper playing like a melody in your ear.

The plate piece clinks to the floor nearly soundlessly and the storm covers for you as a bewildered smile cracks your lips open.

I did it!

You look down, and with your free limb, you go to pull the knot on your other ankle, eventually just getting to a point where you pull so hard one of your toenails completely rips off. Not even noticing, your continue until the floor is pooling with your blood, nails having completely torn into the flesh of your restrained leg until, once more, the silk tears with a blue glint.

Yes!

Pushing yourself up, you stop yourself from passing out by focusing on the broken wine glass on the table, stumbling forward, and nearly falling right into the table in the process. A moment later your fingers are all cut to hell, having grasped the glass and moving the pieces in your hand until one the right size cuts your palm open. Panting like a dog and whimpering, you tilt your mangled hand and use the piece to cut away half of your remaining restraints.

Just like that, You tell yourself, just like that.

The chair clatters to the floor just as you free your last hand.

Remaining frozen, stilled into shock, the house goes silent in an instant. No shuffling. No muttering. Stale air and a storm that rages outside.

You take a breath…then two.

Maybe he didn’t hear–!

Running footsteps are coming up the stairs. They slam into the wood, and an enraged shout spurs your leaking body into action. There was only one way out of the house from this level – one exit that Colby wouldn’t take even if you were stupid enough to. But what choice did you have? By the time the door was blasted off its hinges by a rampaging man with a revolver, your body was disappearing from the attic window – the one once covered by newspapers that you had spied the first time you woke up. The storm pounded, and for a moment you imagined you were a raindrop, falling from the clouds to hit the earth and shatter into a million invisible pieces.

In essence that’s exactly what you did. You fell. You hit. You broke.

But adrenaline is a powerful drug.

As Colby stands awe-stricken in what remains of the window, not even able to aim his revolver. Your body jolts up from a three-story drop into a dead bush and peels out over the abandoned neighborhood; old houses falling apart and more broken down than the last.

You pant and sob, knowing that many of your ribs were broken even if you had never experienced the sensation before, and push on with failing legs. Glass sticks from our skin like porcupine quills, leaving stains of gore behind you as our blood footprints are washed away by the rain.

It’s completely dark out – not a single street light on or able to illuminate your flooded concrete path.

Slamming into the side of a house, you scream, knowing your arm shouldn't be hanging like that by your side but not there enough to care. Rain pelts your head, cleansing you of the blood and puss and everything else.

Taking a confusing path through the alleyways and open backyards, your feet dig into the mushy grass until you zip around a corner. Running so fast and banking so suddenly you don’t have time to stop yourself before you’re slamming into a wall. The solid mass causes your body to reel back, a wet, strangled, gasp ripping from you. Your clothes only add to the weight of your limbs as you fall a weak outcry meeting the air.

But before your body can slam into the ground a weight snaps to your wrist and a frantic voice meets the air. Not a wall, then.

“Holy fucken’ shit!” The masculine voice coated in surprise meets your ringing ears above the downpour, British in accent, “Ma’am?!”

The world is blurry, but with your flickering eyes you can make out a dark face, a ball cap with the British flag embroidered on the front, and wide brown eyes set into a visage with light stubble. He wears gear that you had become familiar with – John wore something similar; a beige vest with packs and straps down his arms and legs. An M13 hangs over his chest, his other hand holding it steady by the side.

“Ma’am?! Are you alright?” The world snaps back into focus, a great snarl of wind ripping down the alleyway and ruffling your frame, “Can you tell me your name?”

Wait, You blinked sluggishly, Didn’t John show me a picture of his teammates? Why does this guy look familiar?

Your boyfriend had a single picture of him and all of his Task Force buddies put in his living room above the fireplace – when you had asked about who he worked with he had grabbed it and told you. It put you at ease to know that in the field he was surrounded by the impressive caliber that the sill image had shown. John had been all too happy to tell funny stories about incidents in the field; careful to leave all the bits that he didn’t want you to hear, out.

“Kyle Garrick?” The words sound like nails on a chalkboard; eyes narrow on both sides, yours in fatigue and his in confusion. You shiver and shake before weakly trying to pull your hand away from him. His grip remains firm, but not enough to hurt. The soldier moves his gaze down your body, eyelids lifting.

“Fuck.” After the exclamation, Kyle brings you into him, just as you feel your legs tremble and buckle. Collapsing into his chest and feeling your body press uncomfortably into his pouches as you let out a bleat in genuine agony that most would only hear in a movie.

The man utters your name breathlessly into that air and you resist a sob that bubbles in your chest.

“Bloody hell, Sweetheart, you’re coming with me. I’ll get you out of here, just keep your eyes open a little longer.” Kyle’s arms travel down wrapping around the backs of your knees and lifting. You yell, eyes scrunching, as waves of heat travel down your spine, “I’ve got you.”

The sentiment was nice, and the man that John calls ‘Gaz’ is incredibly kind, but you don’t want his arms around you – you want your boyfriend’s.

Where’s John?

Gaz huffs as he stares down at you, cataloging the bruises and cuts – the dislocated arm that hangs uselessly out of his hold. Your head is pressed into his neck, the Sergeant’s reliable body suddenly taking off at a quick pace through the alleyway, boots rushing over puddles and garbage with surety.

Off farther down the street, enraged screaming echoes out and you force yourself deeper into Gaz’s grip. The man curses under his breath, taking a turn out into the road and booking it with his long legs. Over the pounding of his heart in your ear Kyle’s fingers dig into your clothes, keeping you tight against him. After a minute of jerkily bouncing in his hold, Gaz’s feet stomp up a set of old wooden stairs, causing your body to flinch up and down. He utters a soft apology and shoulders his way into an abandoned house.

The decaying door smacks the far wall as the man drags rainwater all the way into the front hallway.

“Ghost! We have a problem - A big one – where have the other two gone?”

A voice wavers in from upstairs as Gaz sets you on your feet, guiding you by your shoulders to lean against the wall as he takes frantic glances outside. He shuts the door quickly; letting darkness once more descend in the sheltered area.

“What you mean ‘we have a problem?’” Gaz brings a flashlight from his front pouch, coming up to you and grabbing you lightly by the chin.

“Careful, Love,” He mutters, clicking the light on, “I just need to shine this in your eyes, yeah? Won’t take more than a second.”

You swallow and send a small twitch of your lips in approval but even that hurts. Your eyes squint when the man finally angles the flashlight right in front of his face, moving it back and forth from one of your orbs to another. It makes your eyes water, but you can’t tell if that’s from the heavy realization of what’s happened to you or if the light only agitates the sensitive makeup of your optics.

“Sergeant?” That same voice flows from upstairs, and footsteps suddenly thunder from above. The sound makes you flinch back, snapping your head away from the light and locking to the staircase at the far end of the hallway. Gaz clears his throat ahead of you.

“It’s just Ghost – a-a friend. He’s here to help you.” Your lips thin but you nod carefully.

A hulk of a man comes down to the ground floor, clothed in the same attire as Gaz beside a half-skull mask that covers his face. Under the covering, a black sheet sits over his head. You can only see Ghost’s eyes – blue and numb. Much colder than John’s…like ice rather than a Blue Bird’s underbelly.

He stops for a moment and the two of you lock eyes. Shuffling, you look away first, gaze flickering to the side as Gaz stands to his full height.

“Bloody hell,” Ghost monotones, “That her, then?”

“Get the Captain and Soap on the radio, I need to stop the bleeding,” Gaz barks, grabbing you around your shoulders and practically dragging your body into the adjacent room – the living room, “Tell them I got her and that we need Medical Evac!” He sets you down on the couch and kneels on the floor; digging through his equipment and sending quick glances from under his cap at your rapidly deteriorating state.

You never registered Kyle’s sentence – already the veil at the edges of your vision is taking over. Your pain had begun to dim. In your mind, you knew that was bad but couldn’t, at that moment, care. The glass still sticks out of you, your bones still broken and arm dislocated; feet bleeding and neck more black and blue than any other color, but the euphoric feeling in your brain was enough to block it all out. Mahdi Karim’s life, at that moment, had never ended and you don’t wear the evidence in streaks down your face or on John’s clothes.

“Hey,” Gaz lightly taps your forehead with a finger, making your eyes refocus for a moment before they blur again, “Hey, now,” He attempts to smile, forcing out a chuckle, “Come on, keep those eyes at me. I know I don’t look like John but I don’t think I’m that bad to stare at.”

A pressure is settled on your ribs, and with a sharp inhalation, you pull back as bile fills your mouth.

“Easy,” Kyle whispers, pushing the rag he holds deeper into a long cut over your side that weeps crimson. You blink down at it – you had never even noticed. Had you gotten that in the fall?

“Tell me about how you met John.” Your eyebrows furrow, body beginning to slump forward as your hands shake violently in your lap; the clothes over your skin sticking to you uncomfortably.

“Library,” You slur, voice gravely. Oh, that hurt.

“A library?” Gaz presses his hand tighter, smirking up at you, “Well, can’t say I’m too surprised. I’ve seen the man go through five books in a single Op. over in Egypt. Never understood that, to be honest. I can’t focus on one for more than an hour.”

Weak amusement filters over your expression.

“Garrick,” Ghost’s voice sharply enters the room, his presence making itself known as it lightly jogs into the room, “Mark’s near the kitchen window; coming around clockwise.”

“Shit,” Gaz hisses, about to stand up before Ghost stops him.

“I’ve got the curtains, keep pressure and make sure she doesn’t pass out.”

“Affirm.”

Ghost rushes across the room, grabbing the moth-eaten fabric that was swinging uselessly over the living room and snapping it shut. His hands hold his Grau 5.56 Assault Rifle firmly as he angles his body on the wall next to the window.

Watching his eyes flicker, his gaze once more finds yours. Blinking, both of your orbs stay locked for a minute or two until he looks away, going back to guarding the window. His feet move, legs angling themselves onto a ready stance.

Clenching your eyes shut, your lips pull down – pins and needles making your skin itch.

A shadow moves from outside, leaving a melting outline that slithers past like a serpent.

“Where the fuck are they,” Gaz snarls under his breath. Adrenaline was making the man’s hands vibrate over your side, and your eyes were becoming heavier. The hypnotizing sound of the rain puts you into a trance.

Your body slips forward.

“No!” The man ahead of you harshly whispers – grabbing the limp form of your frame and rearranging you until you were on your side, body lying on the couch. His hands quickly return to your still-bleeding wound, setting his shoulders so he can bear more weight down on you.

Your lips release a small exhale of air that wheezes from you and the squelching of a blood-soaked rag makes your eyelids flutter and skin wrinkle.

“Gaz get the woman’s bloody eyes open.”

“I’m trying! Come on, Love…please–!”

Gunshots ring out from outside, yells growing out over the thunder and lighting – a static sound enters the living room. At this point, the only part of you working property was your ears; in the thin bits of reality you could make out voices that leave your ears twitching in familiarity.

“--outside! We’re coming in…Cover us!”

“Copy!” Ghost yells, rushing away from the window to thunder his way to the front door.

The echo of running feet from outside suddenly became closer and the sharp ring of “MacTavish – Go!”

That voice was so familiar, but why couldn’t you place it?

Multiple feet storm inside, thumping over the floorboards, one continuing down the hallway as Ghost and the other stay to shut the door and stand watch.

“Where the hell is she!?”

“Here!” Gaz calls and a groan exits you at the loud voice so close to your sensitive ears. A heavy body can be felt moving rather than heard as it rampages closer. A shadow moves behind your eyelids just as a strong bout of wind makes the house’s windows rattle. There’s a pause, and then a slow breath inhaled.

A deep voice, layered with grit and dipped in urgency.

“How bad is it, Sergeant?” Your body tenses and with a flickering eyelid, you force your consciousness to come back to you. Opening your eyes halfway, the blurriness only peels back enough for you to notice a looming figure broader and more built than Gaz – a wet bucket hat sitting on top of a beard-covered face. Concerned blue eyes bore into you as the man knees down.

“John?” Your voice wavers, a strangled tormented type of imitation of normal speech. Gaz’s hand leaves your side and your boyfriend replaces it. Your entire abdomen had lost feeling. Was this a dream?

“Garrick, where’s the fucking Evac?” John hisses, wild eyes falling from one open wound to another. His body orients itself next to you, free hand coming to grip your cold cheek. You breathe out a sigh of relief, familiar scared fingers and calloused palms wiping away rain, blood, and tears.

John was in the state he always was when he was on missions and a teammate was struck down – he had to be. If he thought about you too hard, or the blood that stains his grip, he would put you in even more danger; lose his edge. He would panic.

“Ghost contacted them, Sir. They’re ten minutes out – police are fifteen.”

“We need to move.” The conversation continues, but you space out every once and a while, at least until the hand on your cheek shakes your head.

“Love, I’m going to move you,” Your eyes refuse to stay open as John calls your name getting increasingly louder, “...Shit...!”

Gaz’s voice warbles from across the room, “The Mark’s still out there – you sure we should make a move? We don’t have eyes on him, Captain.”

“What else do you bloody suggest I do, then, Sergeant? Let my girl bleed out? Not on my fucken’ life. We’re making for the Humvee. Guns hot…I’m going to need you on my six.”

Arms go to wrap around you, dragging you to a warm chest that you go to limply and without protest.

“Stay with me,” John’s breath hits your cheeks and you feel his breath stutter, his panic growing as your body grows colder in his grip, “please, stay with me.”

But the Captain was an experienced man – praying for a future event was worthless to him. He had to act for it.

So the man tightens his hold, hiking you farther into his sheltering grip with a brief and shaky kiss on your forehead that leaves your nose wrinkling.

“Muppets,” John barks, looking up and stalking out of the living room, “we’re making a run for it. Gear up.”

Your boyfriend doesn’t know if he’s carrying your dead body in his arms, but as Ghost opens the front door and rushes out with his weapon at the ready, John doesn’t stop to think. Soap takes up a stance near his side, sending concerned glances at your non-responsive form, and Gaz settles on taking the rear.

The street is silent besides the rain, and the entire Task Force rushes out with snapping eyes and tight chests. It was a dead silence – one where the air is quivering with tension.

John looks once more down at your face, pulling to memory the panic he had felt when he found Mahdi Karim’s body in his foyer. He had entered his house, gun drawn, when he had noticed the front door was open; a specific type of agony he had never felt before constricting his throat.

Of course, he had relationships before you, but never had he felt this strongly before – never felt this level of anger and hatred for someone who had caused harm.

You were so vastly important to him that it made him sick to think of you dead before him.

Grunting, John increases his pace over the ground, now sprinting in complete distress.

“I promised you we would watch that movie, Love,” He whispers, rainwater weighing down his hat, “Go for a walk down in Green Park so you could see the baby birds.” A wet laugh bursts from his chest and he plays off the tears in his eyes as he clenches his jaw. John doesn’t care about the rain, or your blood staining his vest, not even the water in his boots. All that matters is getting you back to the Humvee; getting you immediate medical attention and making sure that the son of a bitch that did this is–

A shot rings into the night and John lets out a strangled shout. Burning pain erupts from his right shoulder. He falls, but conscious of the precious cargo in his arms, the man twists his body to shield you as he connects with the ground; water flies around as he lands in a puddle. John’s breath is momentarily expelled from his lungs.

“Contact! Contact!” Gaz screams.

“Steaming bloody Jesus!” Soap yells out, moving into a circle of John and your’s bodies, “Captain’s been hit!”

“I’ve got him! Johnny, Gaz, flush ‘em out!”

John groans, cursing under his breath and drawing your body closer to him.

Keep her safe, He thinks as he blinks away black dots, get her back home.

“Come on,” Ghost’s shielded visage appears above him, gripping him by the uninjured shoulder and forcing him up. More shots ring out over the night, but far off in the distance sirens start to breach the night, “Now, you want to explain to your bird when she’s awake why you’ll be off on leave for a bloody month, or am I going to have to do it?”

John clenches his jaw to stop the waves of pain. Ghost offers to take you from him, but he snarls, forcing himself to his feet as his blood splashes over his clothes.

“Fuck off, Lieutenant.”

—

The beeping was becoming too annoying to ignore, like a fly buzzing around your head. With a groan, your eyelids flutter and it takes a few minutes for you to open them fully. Squinting, the dim white lights meet you and a small breeze from an open window makes goosebumps ripple up your arms.

You first notice the fuzziness around your body – strong pain meds making you loopy and floating. Twitching your fingers, the mattress under you shifts as you do; you test the mobility of your limbs with gentle movements, a rotation of your ankles, which are all heavily bandaged, and a rolling of your shoulders. All actions spark a numb shiver of caution.

It would be unwise to move.

Lifting your now re-set arm and tilting your head down, the tight bandages around your neck make you pause.

John was there, Your eyes widen; body messing up the cover over your lower body. The beeping of medical machines suddenly increases as you strain yourself to sit up. Just as you do, a voice from across the room causes you to halt, veins freezing under your skin; your heart skips a beat before you recognize the voice a second later.

“I don’t know if that’s the best idea,” Gaz whispers, “I just got him to fall asleep, you know.” Blinking, your gaze goes to the window across the hospital room there the tall man leans near the glass. He smiles lightly, and bags take shape under his dark eyes, “I’m sure you know how stubborn he can be. Especially about you. I’ve never seen him so damn restless.”

Your brow furrows, not trusting your voice to speak your confusion. Gaz points, and you follow his gaze to an uncomfortable-looking chair mere inches from your bed.

It’s made of wood and a small blue cushion, a hard backing that you could see someone getting a stiff neck over. But you focus on the man sitting there instead of the dented frame – the slumped build in a hospital gown and an IV in the left hand that’s held down by two pieces of medical tape. John’s face and neck are slack, small eyes shut as his chest rumbles with soft snores that put your heart at ease like listening to a cat purr. His skin was illuminated by the gentle glow of a new morning, but under his eyes, there was the heavy burden of black and blue bags.

Had no one gotten any sleep beside me? How long have I been out?

“He wouldn’t let the nurses force him out,” Gaz mutters, but you don’t move your wet gaze from John, “Nearly punched the bloody Doctor, too – Laswell had to sort it out, or else he would have been discharged. Decking a Civvy isn’t a good look for a Captain, now is it?”

The man shakes his head, releasing a highly amused chuckle, and walks to your opposite bedside; grabbing a glass of water he taps your shoulder and causes you to turn forward. Unwilling to stop looking at the ethereal image of your sleeping boyfriend, you keep him in the sides of your vision as Gaz brings the glass to your lips. You’d be unable to hold it – the nearly inch-thick gauze over your hands and wrists was incredibly restrictive.

You gulp down the liquid thankfully and tap on Kyle’s wrist when you’ve had enough. He pulls back and your wipe the droplets from your chin before you delicately smile at the man as thanks.

Gaz nods, placing the glass back on the table.

“...The staff had to just about rip him off of you. They said you had to go into surgery for your ribs and he ‘bout lost his head. But he had lost so much blood himself that it was easy enough for Soap to drag him away.”

Lost blood? Your head snaps his way so hard you sway lightly.

“Woah, careful, Love,” Gaz holds out a hand and hovers it above your arm, but looks sheepish and spares a silent glance to John when your boyfriend grumbles in his sleep, “Yeah,” He scratches the back of his neck, “Cap. took a bullet to the right shoulder.”

You turn and look at John more carefully, landing on the afflicted side and spying the extra bulkiness under his garment.

What do you mean he took a bullet?!

John shifts and your eyes widen in horror when he flinches in pain. His chin had hit his shoulder, forcing his eyes to flutter open in retaliation.

“Sergeant,” He grumbles, the huskiness of his voice making your cheeks heat, “I told you not to let me fall asleep.”

“Sorry, Sir,” Gaz smirks, taking a step back and sending you a wink, “Must have spaced out.”

“Hm.” John shifts, moving and running a hand over his face and down his beard, scratching at the wire hairs and stifling a yawn. Your heart is in your throat as he blinks his eyes. Blue so momentarily being glimpsed in between flickers of dark eyelashes. You briefly hear the sound of receding feet and the door closing.

The sting of tears makes itself known to you.

“Gaz?” Your boyfriend questions, face squinting, and body shaking in a stretch, “Where did you–” He sees you sitting up and stops, eyes locking onto your own with shock.

Your head tilts and a slow smile creases your face, making tears dribble down your cheeks. John sucks in a quick breath, immediately trying to stand, but you hold out a hand – stopping him.

Just calm down, You want to tell him, Everything’s alright. You’re hurt too.

“Doll,” He breathes, hand coming to grasp the side of your face and keeping you there with a relieved smile. It looks like a weight had been lifted from his body, “There you are…How are you feeling? If there’s any pain just say and I’ll go grab the nurse – she’ll fix you right up, yeah?”

You want to tell him that you love him, but settle on kissing his palm instead, feeling the heat of his skin on your own and wanting nothing more than to disappear into his hold. You don’t want the nurse, you want a hug.

John’s eyes weave over your bandaged temple, and he runs a thumb over it as if his touch could make it better. If you had your voice you would say it did. Silence reigns for a few long moments.

“I thought he killed you, Sweetheart,” He whispers, vulnerable as his eyebrows turn in, and your hand comes up to run through his locks; dragging him closer until his face is slotted into your neck. Your heart breaks as John’s beard presses into the gauze, “I heard the glass from the attic window break, just about scared me half to death, that did,” John had never admitted to being scared before – not even when he was captured by the Russians. The realization has your heart skipping beats, nose going to press into the side of his head, and stifle a sob in his hair. Your vision was blurry, but not from the fatigue, “I saw so much blood but I searched and searched. I couldn’t find you. Then when Gaz had you in the living room, pressing that bloody towel to your side…You were so lifeless that I didn’t…I didn’t know if–”

“John,” You force out through gritted teeth, “Stop.”

He was shaking just as badly as you were. You were both quite the pair, it would seem. Your Captain pulls back and begins pressing kisses to any skin available to him – your forehead, cheeks, eyelids, and finally your lips. You revel in the feeling of his soft kiss, leaving you breathless as he pours himself completely into you.

You don’t know if you had ever met anyone as perfect as John Price before, and you would be content if you never did again.

He pulls back when you both feel your hearts slow and you look at him, eyes sliding over his face until they land on his right shoulder with a glint of guilt. But he notices. He always does.

“None of that, now,” John whispers, placing his forehead on yours and swiping your tears away. His tall frame blocks everything beside him and he smells of gunpowder, pine needles, and smoke, “You are so incredibly brave, you know that? You’re absolutely bloody brilliant, you are…but everything’s been taken care of – just leave the heavy lifting to the others for a little while. The only thing you need to do is rest for me, Love, can you do that?”

Your brow teasingly raises even as your heart bursts at the praise.

“Please.” You smile and point to his chest, poking right into the middle and huffing.

Only if you do too.

John grunts and a chuckle makes his body rattle in the way only his could, “Won’t find me fighting you on that.” He disconnects your foreheads.

You haven’t been sleeping, You brush the bags under his eyes, watching his eyelashes flutter, Oh, John…when will you stop being so stubborn? Your body was fighting with you to drag itself back to the mattress – lay down, it seems to say, go to sleep and rest.

John’s heavy presence is like a weighted blanket, and although you knew there was much to talk about – when you were able – he gave off waves of comforting heat that made your muscles loosen. You seemed to have the same effect on John because he lays all of his body against the bed frame breathing deeply.

“Wanted to be awake when you came too,” He whispers, and you smile, nuzzling into his neck, “Didn’t want you to be scared.”

I never could be, You think, not when you’re here.

Getting an idea, you pull back and shake John’s head from side to side with your hands to get him to watch you. The man grumbles, opening his eyes with mock annoyance.

“Yeah, Love?”

Your body moves, and John’s tired eyes widen, “What are you–!”

Scooting to the far side of the bed, you only release one grunt of uncomfortableness when you have to place weight on your reset arm. Around your middle, you feel the telltale pull of stitches and stop sooner rather than later. You pat the empty side and send John a look.

“Alright,” He groans, “Just stop moving around.”

John’s large body barely fits in the bed, leading you to mold into his side and him to wrap his arm around your shoulders. Wanting to show your disapproval as John clenches his jaw in pain as he moves his right side to give you more room, you slap his chest.

“What else do you want me to do, woman?” He looks down at you, raising a brow and laying his hand on your arm; running a thump up and down, “Let you fall off? This was your bloody idea.”

You roll your eyes at his grumble, moving your head to rest on his peck. Already your eyes were drooping once more, and John presses his lips into the top of your head. A sigh rises his chest.

“Sleep, Love.” He whispers, beard getting caught in your hair as a deep rumble enters his body, “You’ll never have to worry about that Muppet ever again. Made sure of it.”

Smiling, you fall asleep to the sound of his heart and the feeling of his large hands creating patterns along your arm; not long after he follows, small puffs of breath from his snores moving your locks as the morning light enters the room.

Gaz would return not fifteen minutes later with two trays of hospital food, Soap tailing after and talking to Ghost about what Laswell was going to do with Colby. The Manchester man only slides his eyes down to the Scot from over his lower-face covering and hums; scratching at his neck.

“Laswell? I’d be more cornered with what Price is going to do with the bloke. Bastard’s not going to be able to hide in his cell when the man gets discharged. Kate knows it too.”

Gaz peaked his head into the room and paused spying two softly embraced individuals holding each other as if they would disappear when their eyes would open. Light pays off your forms, and John grumbles in his sleep before shifting even closer to you and letting out a sigh. He had never looked so peaceful.

Gaz smirks before letting the door silently slip shut. He turns back to the pair with the trays raising as his shoulders shrug comedically.

“Sleeping.”

“What?” Soap raises a brow, crossing his arms over his chest, “Not ‘gonna wake ‘em up?”

“Do I look like I want to be eviscerated by a certain Captain, MacTavish? I’d quite like to keep my bloody neck, thank you.”

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beansprean · 8 months

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Exit Interview

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1a. Bust of Nandor on a streaky blue background, leaning forward on one hand, the other raised in the air, palm-up. His eyes are closed on a nonchalant expression, head tipped down, as he casually states "Then it is settled. You are officially released from your service." 1b. Reverse shot of Guillermo, leaning forward as he stands from a chair, looking up at Nandor with a hesitant smile. He asks, "...That's it? I'm not your familiar anymore?" 1c. Close up of Nandor's left hand settling on Guillermo's shoulder as he responds, "Not my familiar, not my bodyguard..." 1d. Wide shot of them both standing in profile, facing each other, the background now streaked with gold. Nandor smiles down proudly at Guillermo, hand on his shoulder, and continues, "...but a fully-fledged member of the household. And my friend." Guillermo happily meets his gaze, lips pressed around a smile of genuine joy. 1e. Close up of Guillermo, the panel back to the streaky blue as the background beyond the panels begins to lighten to the grey of dawn. The next 4 panels are no longer square but angling inwards as if pulled together by an unseen force. Guillermo leans his head toward the hand on his shoulder, his own hand rising up to hold it, and smiles wide even as his gaze dips shyly. He asks, "So...what next?" 1f. Reverse shot of Nandor barking out a nervous laugh, gaze fixed on Guillermo as he replies, "What next indeed!" 1g. Zoom out to them both in profile, Guillermo's hand still on Nandor's hand on Guillermo's shoulder. Guillermo grins affectionately upwards as Nandor straightens and takes a step forward, nervous grin still wide and frozen on his face. He tosses out his free hand in some kind of shrug and says, "Well!" 1h. Repeat. Nandor steps closer still, and his flailing right hand comes to rest, very gingerly, on the side of Guillermo's face. Guillermo's hand slides down Nandor's arm as his left hand shifts to touch his neck, smile gentling as he blinks in surprise. Nandor's expression softens as well, head tilting slightly as he moves his gaze toward where his hand rests on Guillermo's cheek and he continues, "Perhaps..." 1i. Repeat, closer. Nandor has both hands on Guillermo's cheeks now, head dipping down so their noses are only an inch apart. His expression is almost dazed, as he murmurs, "Just..." Guillermo tips his head up as well, lips parted, his left hand sliding up Nandor's side. Their hooded gazes are each fixed on the other's mouth. The center of the panel begins to lighten with a white-gold glow as the shape continues to distort, parts of the characters stepping out of its bounds completely. The background behind the panels continues to get lighter, and the silhouettes of flying birds begin to fly in, closer and closer, growing lighter a step ahead of the background. 1j. Repeat. They move closer, Nandor's eyes now closed and head tilted as their noses slide past each other, lips only centimeters apart. Guillermo's hand slides up further to press against Nandor's ribs, gripping, his eyes still open the slightest amount as if to ensure this moment doesn't disappear. The panel lightens. The birds fly closer.

2a. Repeat. The center of the panel bursts into bright vertical beams of white and gold, the border bleeding from black to a wall of light as they close the final distance between them. Guillermo's eyes finally close, mouth pushing into the gentle kiss. 2b. Repeat, a wider shot as the glowing light inside the panel breaks the borders completely, flooding into the background as it begins to turn to streaks of purple and pink, birds now flying through the broken panel walls. Nandor pushes forward to deepen the kiss, hands clutching at Guillermo's face, Guillermo's head tilting back further as he presses himself close. 2c. Repeat, wider shot of them both now freely standing in the background, streaks of light blooming into yellow and orange. Guillermo is leaning back even further, fingers digging into the back of Nandor's shoulders as he is nearly dipped, their heads tilting the other way as the kiss continues. Nandor, expression blissful, smiles slightly into it. 2d. Close up in a panel bordered by light, the colors inside bolder and brighter: reds and oranges on top, blues and purples on the bottom, the center streaked with light. Both a sunrise and a sunset. They have broken the kiss and Guillermo has straightened, but they do not part from each other. Nandor's right arm curves around Guillermo's back and his left cups the back of his head, keeping him close as he nuzzles their noses together with a serene smile, eyes closed. Guillermo pushes up into the contact, flushed and smiling, one hand at Nandor's back, keeping them pressed together, and the other sliding up Nandor's chest. Guillermo lets out a breathy chuckle and whispers, "Yeah. That could be next..." /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described #oog i had fun with imagery here dfkhjfkjf #this is how the finale is gonna go right?? RIGHT????

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thatsdemko · 1 year

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cruel summer - a.leclerc

masterlist

t-swift inspired works list

requested: n

pairings: Arthur leclerc x gasly!fem!reader

warnings: nsfw + not intended for minors + mentions of alcohol + teasing + mentions of flings/hookups

a/n: yes my tags are under f1 I just don’t know how many people view the f2 works tags. wrote this at 5am a couple weeks ago! feedback is always appreciated xx

《 the following content is not intended for minors. 》

Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes

you’re not looking to fall in love you’re just looking for something fun for the summer. after having dealt with a harsh break up, the last thing you need is a man occupying your mind.

that’s until the annual gasly and leclerc siblings vacation in Italy. Arthur was just facing a fresh new start after a rough breakup as well, and a month in the countryside couldn’t have sounded more appealing. he’s also not looking for anything serious.

that’s until he sees you curled up under the blankets around the bonfire, body leaning against his older brother, Lorenzo. the orangey red flames reflect your beautiful features to him, and all of a sudden any idea of a summer fling has fallen short. he’s now realizing maybe there’s a chance to fall in love again.

you’re sipping on the last of the limoncello when Lorenzo calls it a night for himself. he presses a kiss to your forehead and wraps the rest of your blanket around your body. Charles nods along saying it’s late for him, but you and Arthur could stay longer. and you do.

“you’re not tired?” he asks, watching your tipsy body sway in the chair. your brother, Pierre, takes your glass from you officially cutting you off for the night.

“don’t need to get wasted on the first night.” he shakes his head in disapproval, and it’s his turn to head in for the evening. the three older boys have a big day ahead of them, they planned to head into town and do some racing while the two of you hung back.

“I should probably go to bed too.” you sigh watching the flames dance around the fire pit. you look up to see Arthur’s fixated on the flames too. you’ve noticed the distant lost look in his eyes, you didn’t question his appearance, you’re sure you look the same. it’s a cruel summer so far, and god you’re hoping it turns around.

—

it’s 3am when you find yourself tending to your drunk cravings. you tossed and turned in the bed trying to fight sleep, but the liquor still in your system was craving something salty.

you’re sitting at the dinning room table attempting to make as little noise as possible with the bag of chips in front of you. the house is silent, the only thing that fills the air is the sound of light snores and now you’re loud bag of chips.

it wakes Arthur up— but to your lack of knowledge he’s already awake. he hadn’t been able to sleep, your face in the glowing lights of the fire still dance around in his mind. the words of his ex girlfriend telling him he was “unlovable” linger in too, he tries to fight the words and the pictures, but falls short.

he throws the covers off his body, deciding maybe a movie or a television show would tire him out. he wasn’t expecting to see you awake in the kitchen, crumbs of chips around your lips while you munch on them. god even half awake his heart nearly beats out his chest.

“did I wake you?” you ask, guilt washes over you watching him shake his head as he slips into the chair across from you. you tilt the bag in his direction but he declines.

“I was already awake.” he explains watching you devour the salty treat in front of you. he studies how you waste no time to chew before shoving another one in your mouth. he watches you close your eyes in satisfaction of the salty cravings being met.

“how’s your summer been so far?” you ask deciding to fill the silence between you both, growing a little irritated of listening to the light snores.

“could be better, you?” he asks reaching across the table using his thumb to wipe the excess of chip and salt that linger your lips. you nearly stop breathing when his thumb comes in contact with them, his thumb is soft and gentle against your lips. his skin just brushes your chin, heart beginning to pound like crazy over this act.

“yeah same.” your breath is uneasy as you exhale when he finally pulled away. he chuckles to himself watching your pupils dilate, mouth slightly agape, and eyes lustful. he watches you fix yourself and your tipsy state returns once again.

“happy to be out here, away from the world.” he looks out the window adjacent to the table. stars fill the sky, you couldn’t see stuff like that for days in the city. he loves his summers in the countryside; just drinking, tanning, swimming, and most importantly now you. you and your little bikinis your brother warns you not to wear, you and your tight skirts, you and your beautiful figure. he can’t wait for a whole month of it.

“it’s going to be a fun month.” you sigh relaxing into the chair finally full from all the salt and crunching. he takes the bag of chips from you beginning to munch himself.

“yeah? what do you plan to do?” he asks leaning forward. maybe you could be his summer fun, his one time thing that he’ll maybe regret later on, but he won’t now. not when you’re this stunning and so beyond out of his world.

you shrug, “I don’t know, have some fun.” you smile pushing yourself up from the chair feeling exhaustion finally hit you. “I’m just looking for fun.”

he watches you walk away, you’re almost up the stairs when he adds one more thing. the last thing to say before leaving you to dream of tomorrow, “I know how to have fun, y/n.”

“goodnight, Arthur.”

—

you’re laying against your towel, back facing the burning rays, while the four boys play spike ball. the noise of their laughter and grunts are disturbing of your attempt at peace.

you give in to the sound of the wave crashing against the sand and decide to take a swim. you feel a familiar pair of eyes watch you walk past the four boys. you’re wearing the tiniest of bikini bottoms, and a top that’s a size too small for your chest. arthur noticed, of course he noticed. after yesterdays conversation all he can think about is ruining that stupid “bro code” Pierre made him promise to. he promised to never date or mess with his sister.

except it’s summer time, those rules don’t apply to a fun summer, right? he just wants something to occupy his mind, and you already said you’re not looking for anything beyond fun. he’s the perfect contender for this summer job.

“focus, arthur!” Charles fakes a throw at his brothers head, the younger boy flinches in reaction. he nods along going back to the game, but out of the corner of his eye every time the game stops, he sees your body floating across the cool salty waters.

“I think I’m going to go for a swim.” arthur announces when the three others call it a day on the game. they nod along watching him make his way towards where you are. you’re standing, feet sunk into the sand, allowing the waves to crash against your body, every so often going underneath to hear the muffled sounds of the waves crash against the sand.

when you look over towards the boys you notice they are all hanging around on their towels, and one leclerc is missing. your eyes dart around the beach before feeling someone yank your leg from under the water. it’s him.

“you scared me.” you laugh watching him come up for air, wet hair pressed against his forehead. he takes the palm of his hand brushing the hairs back, chuckling at your scared state, hand over your sunburnt chest.

“that was the point.” he says, noticeably moving his eyes up and down your body. taking in the way your bottoms nearly fell down your hips, and the way your top lifted upwards exposing your under breasts.

“cannot believe Pierre let you leave the house like that.” he licks his lips shaking his head, watching your already red face become a darker shade just by his comment.

“well he doesn’t own me.” you say, his body drifts closer due to the waves, you don’t mind, you allow yourself to be taken by them nearly stumbling into his chest. he’s praying to god your brother isn’t seeing this.

“you’re right, but maybe he should’ve said something because the things you do to me. god,” he exhales, a smirk forming his lips as he shakes the dirty thoughts, “it’s unholy.”

you exhale an uneasy sigh feeling warmth spread across your chest, heart rate picking up. you want this, god you want this with him, “tell me about them.” you run your fingers down his abs, they run over every divot and peak of his body.

“why don’t I show you tonight?” he takes his index finger resting it underneath your chin, thumb stroking the side of your face. you can’t say any words just nodding in agreement.

“can’t wait.”

—

the dress you’re wearing flows with the wind, all five of you moving around the winery watching the sunset. you think he’d behave himself this close around your brother, but he allows his arms to slip around your waist every so often, and hand squeeze your ass in any private moment. he’s tearing your patience, and that dress of yours is testing his.

pierre leaves you with the leclerc brothers to go to buy a bottle of wine for you and your family to take back home. you nurse the last couple of sips in your drink listening in on the three boys conversation. your eyes gravitate towards him, his white linen shirt has two buttons undone exposes his cross necklace, and his sun kissed chest. he knows what he’s doing, just like you knew what you were doing when you slipped on the dress with a low v. you’re both making each other beg.

“I’m going to go see what’s taking him so long.” Charles mutters leaving the three of you alone. Lorenzo makes an excuse you can’t remember because now it’s just you two. and he’s already whispering dirty secrets in your ear.

“we are in public, Arthur.” you giggle feeling his hot breath against your ear, it tingles a sensation throughout your body that trickles down your spine.

“I want to take you in this winery.” he whispers, hands pushing the few hairs that brushed in front of your face with the wind. you want him. god you want him bad, you can feel warmth spreading against your panties.

“my brother is here, you can’t.” you hiss, you want to break gaze from him, check on the status of Pierre and see if he’s coming back. but your eyes stay glued to those beautiful thick pink lips. god, you want him to take you in this winery.

“whatever happened to having fun? you don’t want to meet me in the restroom in say five minutes?” he checks his watch beginning to set a timer, he taps it and turns away. on his way inside he runs into Pierre telling him he’s using the restroom before they all leave, and now you’ve got five minutes to make that same excuse.

you sigh unsure what you’ve got yourself in to, but five minutes pass and you’re now heading to the private restroom. softly knocking on the door praying this is the one he’s in, and to your luck he is.

he opens the door and you slip in before anybody could notice, he presses your body against the wall, hands pulling the material of your dress up your thighs while you’re undoing his belt. this is the fastest you’ve got things done, you don’t have much time knowing the three out there would get suspicious.

“I can’t stand you right now.” he mutters, when he finally rips the wet material that’s against your throbbing pussy. you could whine you’re so needy for him.

“you’re cruel, leclerc. teasing me like that.” you spread your legs for him, his fingers grip your thighs as he enters you. you’re doing everything you can to keep yourself quiet— that includes biting the collar of his white linen shirt practically leaving teeth marks.

his thrusts are quick and short, he doesn’t have much time but he’s still showing you how he feels. his tip nudging your clit, pleasure washing over you. you bite down even harder on his shirt feeling tears well against the brims, you so badly want to scream, you can feel your legs beginning to shake. he’s too good for you, he wants to take his time get every part of your memorized.

“that’s it, come on.” he whispers still edging you on, hands twisted in your hair he watches you relax against him. teeth unclenching his shirt, your body practically exhales on him. your head hits the wall when he pulls out rushing to find toilet paper to clean you up.

“such a good girl.” he mumbles, the sandy paper gently brushes against your inner thighs. he helps you return back to your normal state, combing out any knots in your hair, both of you now leaving the restroom.

“wasn’t that fun?” he asks, you have a few more feet until you’re in front of your brothers and this talk couldn’t go on anymore. you just let out a dry laugh shaking your head.

“yeah if you didn’t have to take me so quickly.” you nudge his shoulder with your elbow. Pierre catches your eye, and he knows somethings different. you weren’t this happy nearly an hour ago when you arrived to the winery, and he’s not stupid when he sees the teeth marks in Arthur’s linen shirt.

“do I need to remind you that my sister is off limits to fuck with?”

“you’re a little too late, because I already did.”

No rules, in breakable heaven

It's a cruel summer

With you

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sc0tters · 7 months

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In The Break | Mat Barzal

summary: the Barzal house is at its breaking point without their key member their to save the day.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, grammar that I think a four year old would use.

word count: 2.09k

authors note: this is officially probably one of my favourite (soft) things that I’ve written. Like I can’t get over how cute everyone is. But like weirdly enough I can’t tell if I acc like this so I’m just going to how that it had the luna stamp of approval.

You didn’t think would had ever been more excited to have Mat back home as you were in that moment.

Tilly had been teething and James wanted his father at every waking moment.

Your energy was practically nonexistent as your one year old wasn’t sleeping through the night and that meant that you weren’t either.

It seemed that all three of you were at your wits end and as both kids were sat in the playroom with Tilly sporting her red swollen cheeks. James had gone on about how he couldn’t wait to see his father you knew you were being stupid but it hurt you hearing his praise as he had done nothing but spew the negative words that were in your four year olds Arsenal.

You tried to brush his hair wanting to get him ready for the day “I’m home!” Mat called out as he opened the front door making both kids turn their heads in the direction of him.

Before you knew it you were shoved to the ground as they both seemed to finally behave as they stopped their negative moods “hi baby!” Mat cooed as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around the boy.

Tilly waddled after her brother causing her father to gasp at her improved abilities at walking “where is mama?” The hockey player’s eyes lit up as he saw you tuck your hair behind your ears.

A smile formed on Mat’s lips as he so effortlessly held the children to his sides “hi pretty lady.” It seemed that he didn’t take note of the dark circles that lay under your eyes “was thinking we could go get ice cream with them?” His words cause the kids to cheer as Mat kissed your lips.

That was honestly the last thing you needed to hear. Both kids had won the battle of avoiding nap time until their father got home “Til hasn’t had her nap yet.” You pointed out with a sigh.

You weren’t expecting any shut eye during this time as Mat had been gone for two weeks and you did miss your husband. But you knew that if both kids didn’t try for their naps you would be the one to truly pay the price later on “they won’t be that bad.” As all three sent you a smile you couldn’t help but sigh as you nodded conceding defeat.

It was almost like you could have been a fortune teller. Tilly had cried herself to sleep as she was so grumpy without her teddy that not even Mat’s arms could put her mind at ease.

And your sweet little James had been sat on his fathers lap with every chance he could get.

So now you were not only sleep deprived but you were also feeling neglected.

Mat loved seeing how his kids looked up at him but as he held James in his arms and had Tilly in the carrier as you walked ahead of them to the front door.

Getting Tilly to sleep was easy as you simply placed her in her cot where Mat offered to take over in changing her into her pyjamas. James on the other hand began to have a fit as he realised that his father was nowhere in sight as you sat down on his bed with a book “daddy daddy daddy!” He complained kicking his legs “J daddy is with Tilly right now.” You sighed opening the book.

Yet that seemed to aggravate your son further “I want daddy not you.” Again you knew that James didn’t know the gravity of his words but in that moment you wanted to just break down.

You tried to ignore him as you began reading “I hate you momma where’s daddy!” Having children was another moment of learning how to bite your tongue and you had been doing so much better “you think I want to be here either!” You yelled back finally letting your anger go “I’m tired and for the last two weeks you have treated me like I’m not here!” As James flinched your eyes went wide.

Not once in the four years of being his mom had you ever raised your voice “J I’m-” before you could reach out to apologise Mat walked in “daddy!” James cheered.

Mat sent you a look of concern as you got up “think he wants you to read this.” You mumbled shoving the book into his hands as you let the door shut behind you “momma always said this was a book huh?” Mat smiled as he nestled into the mattress as James rested against him.

Guilt drowned you as you sat with your hands around your knees letting the warm water from the shower land on your back before the droplets slowly dripped down your skin. Tears painted your cheeks as you so badly just wanted to wake up and see that this was all just some bad dream “baby?” Mat called out as he walked into the bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to realise that you were in the shower “shit y/n!” Your husband didn’t care that he walked into the shower with all of his clothes still on.

In one quick movement Mat helped you up before he pulled you into a hug “Mat!” You cried as the hockey player reached behind you to turn the shower off.

Your tears soaked his shirt as you realised all the things you are frustrated about, not being able to make Tilly feel better as she teethed, James deciding that he hated you and how you let it get to you. But most of all how Mat came in and ruined the schedule you set with the kids.

Usually you wouldn’t have cared if they missed a day but you were tired and felt unloved and for that you let it irritate you today.

So you pushed Mat away as he handed you a towel “baby?” He was surprised to see the glare you sent him as you wiped your eyes.

Mat stood there with wide eyes “you went against me today.” The only rule you had about being parents was that you two had to remain united and that’s kind of hard when he ignores your scheduling.

He remained silent as you continued “how am I meant to keep it together here when you come in and play god or some shit becoming their favourites all over again.” You knew you were being stupid but it made you want to cry as you thought about it when your throat grew tight.

The hockey player scoffed “sorry that when I don’t see the kids for two weeks I want to go do something fun with them!” He felt like your statement was beyond aggressive as it quickly turned into a screaming match “Mat I told you that they needed to sleep and you still went with what you wanted!” Before he could even think about his rebuttal the baby monitor went off.

Tilly’s cries pulled your attention away from your husband “I would go but I’d hate to fuck with her sleep schedule.” Mat’s words had you rolling your eyes as you wrapped the towel around your body “fuck off Mat.” You spat shaking your head as you walked out of your room and down the hall to hers.

Her eyes grew full as she turned her head to see you “hi my love.” You cooed picking her small body up letting her head rest against your shoulder.

Usually you weren’t one for picking her up and rather just showing her that you were there but tonight you needed a hug from someone who seemed happy to see you.

So you two stood like that for fifteen minutes as your gentle swaying of your body caused her to finally settle “good night my girl.” You placed her back into her crib before you brought your fingers to your lip kissing them before you let them press softly on her forehead.

The darkness of the hallway back to your room reminded you of the state that of chaos that you had left Mat in.

You nervously chewed at the inside of your cheek before you took a final deep breath and pushed the door open.

Mat seemed like a shell of himself as he had the baby cam in his hand as he replayed the footage of you humming some random rhyme as Tilly fell asleep “I never know how you do that with her.” Mat blurted out as you were always the one to save them when the kids woke up in the night.

It was a taken that Mat could never even fathom as he tried everything but most of the time their own tiredness would come back and bring them into a deep sleep.

Wanting to discard the towel you found one of Mats shirts that you had folded that morning so you put that on instead of your own clothes. You remained quiet as you brought the towel to the bathroom unaware of how Mat followed you “I don’t mean to always play good cop with them it’s just that I’m not always around in the season and-” Mat rambled on as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Now your guilt about lashing out at him came out “it’s fine babe.” You shook off his thoughts as you turned to face him “no it’s not.” It was clear that the hockey player wanted you and the kids around more than he got to see you “you’re their great mom and an even greater wife to me.” His hands wrapped around your neck as you hugged him.

Somehow that contact felt different to the one from thirty minutes ago. This time it was with love and care as he watched you smile when his lips pressed against your head “you deserve to be treated better than you are.” Mat had tried coming up with the lecture for James but he didn’t know how to do it without getting angry at his son.

Sure two years ago James was a total momma’s boy who refused to be with anyone who wasn’t you but Mat knew that if James spoke to him the way he had spoken to you, Mat would have lost it.

Maybe it sounded stupid but you had both gone through your insecure moments with the kids and you were now realising that “can we go to bed then?” You yawned finally wanting that sleep that you had waited so long for.

Mat laughed as he nodded “let’s go.” He watched as you pulled him out of the room back into your bedroom where your bed was a sight for sore eyes.

The next morning you woke up to the sound of giggles and Bluey blaring through the speakers of the tv downstairs. Mat wasn’t next to you so he had obviously woken up to spend time with the kids.

You yawned stretching out as you smiled to yourself letting your back comfortably rest on the mattress “momma?” A soft voice came from the door causing you to look up.

James stood there with his plushie that Tito had brought him back from Vancouver over the summer “hi J,” before you could say anything more your eldest was running into your room as he jumped onto your bed and quickly into your arms.

The sight warmed your heart “what is it my baby?” You cooed running your fingers through his hair “I love you,” James looked up at you with tears in his eyes causing you to frown.

Your finger wiped at his cheek “I love you so much love why are you crying?” You didn’t mean for your words to come out confused as you tried to soothe the boy.

James fiddled with your bracelet, a habit he picked up watching you do it when you were nervous “sorry I yell at you in room.” Your mom had told you that you were going to have moments where you knew you were a good parent and this felt like it was that.

You gave the boy a squeeze as you kissed the top of his head “I’m sorry too.” You mumbled with both you turning to the door as you heard someone walk up the stairs “you two got room for two more?” Mat asked as he pressed a kiss to Tilly’s cheek drawing a giggle from her lips.

The sight gave you so much joy as your heart felt full “always.”

#Mat Barzal imagines #Mat Barzal x reader #mat barzal oneshot #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey oneshot #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

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lunareiitic · 4 months

Text

HSR 1.6 SPOILERS AHEAD BE WARNED

I saw a discussion on Reddit earlier where someone talked about how gracious Herta is to Ruan Mei and felt that the plot shows that Ruan Mei is taking advantage of her and I felt like... it's not a bad conclusion to draw from the text but. It feels not correct. Like yes, Herta essentially does let RM do whatever she wants, especially with regards to the space station, and RM doesn't seem to be very thankful for it. (Setting aside the fact that it isn't really Herta's space station. Asta's the one who bankrolls and manages it. It's just got Herta's name on it. Herta is just as uncaring to the researchers lmao) But to call RM a "passive manipulator" (yes, I saw this take too) of her and nothing more I think... overlooks both of their personalities? Taking into account that both of these characters are essentially confirmed autistic (go see the official post about the Genius Society, you can't make this up) their dynamic is a little tragic but very true-to-life.

Herta is loud, pushy, and bratty. She's like a cat- she doesn't take no for an answer and the moment you try to get her to do something she doesn't want to do she goes limp and useless. She admires Ruan Mei because she's nothing like her. And RM would never push Herta to do anything. RM doesn't push. She doesn't even really manipulate. The woman cannot lie to save her life. All she did was ask Herta if she could use part of the space station and Herta obliged, and it sounds like she'd been waiting for Ruan Mei to finally ask her for something. RM doesn't really have a malicious bone in her body. That's what makes her so terrifying. People are often just willing to do as she asks and she makes no pretenses or illusions about herself, her motives, or her life. The closest she gets to lying is just not answering when pressed. She is so socially inept she has to drug the trailblazer into silence so they'll help her. And I think this is... out of embarrassment? If it were me, an autistic bitch who cannot lie to save my life, I would want to do something similar. She knows she's gotten herself into a situation because she left the incubator on too long and then the space station got attacked, but admitting that to Herta would wound her pride and also cause friction between them. You can tell that she brought the Trailblazer into that Genius meeting because she was afraid Herta and Screwllum had caught on to her, and once she realizes that it's just them debating about (in her eyes) nothing, she lets the Trailblazer go. I've seen people call that "callous", as if she was dropping them as soon as they were not useful to her. But she says why she does it basically immediately- she thinks it would bore us and she has something else more important that she needs our help with.

I think the part of Ruan Mei's character that people are overlooking right now is that Ruan Mei does care. Look at the story bit for Genius' Repose, where she serves machine oil in a teacup for Screwllum and promises to send a box of homemade sweets to Herta's flesh-and-blood body. She's the kind of person who is actively thinking of her mother and her grandmother and their little home in the snow every time she eats something sweet. Her creations are literally desperate with love. Love, love, love, love. Love that feels alien to her, love that she can't put into words, love that her alexithymia won't let her ascertain and compartmentalize. Love that is as elusive and vexing and important as that spark of the divine soul she's been chasing all this time. She loves and she loves deeply, to the point of obsession. But she's in love with the past as much as Herta is- their signature light cones both have them reflecting on a past version of themselves that they know they cannot have back. She quite literally brought her mother back to life because she couldn't bear to break a promise to her late grandmother (who... somehow, is still waiting for her... somewhere). She's a deeply sentimental person. Haven't you ever looked at other people and felt, even for just a moment, that you are apart from them? That they have something you lack? What if you let that feeling consume you? Ruan Mei yearns for a world that she cannot touch because she's lost the trees in the greater forest of her mind. She feels the need to become god because she feels so utterly alienated from the world around her. But she can't escape herself, no matter how far she runs.

I guess what I'm trying to say, is that Herta and Ruan Mei are friends, even if Ruan Mei doesn't feel that she's capable of it. It makes a lot of sense that they're both ice too, element ruled primarily by The Remembrance. I wonder how they both feel about that?

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr spoilers #ruan mei #herta #this got away from me but I have been thinking about her nonstop for two weeks now

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just-aake · 4 months

Text

Boundless Devotion - Part XI

Pairing: princess!Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: MedievalAU. Natasha is the eldest princess of the Romanov Kingdom. As the time of her coronation approaches, she is suddenly forced to make a decision – either find herself a partner or her parents will choose one for her.

Warnings: light angst, light fluff, slight violence

Words: 4350

The distant rumble of thunder causes your horse to fidget nervously as the two of you press on along the trail from the manor.

Your gaze shifts from the darkening skies to the princess, riding slightly ahead of you.

Since leaving, a heavy silence has hung between the two of you with the both of you choosing to focus on the path ahead or, in Natasha’s case, glaring into the distance.

You can easily read the tension in her body from her stiff back, letting you know her current feelings.

Unable to stand the quiet anymore, you decide to call out to her.

“I can tell that you’re still upset, you know.”

At the sound of your voice, Natasha relaxes her posture slightly, slowing her horse to ride alongside you.

With a tired sigh and a slight bow of her head, she grumbles under her breath.

“Not at you,” she clarifies before her hands clench the reins in anger, and she grits out. “Just this situation.”

You sigh sadly at her explanation, looking down at your hands in disappointment. This is precisely what you had hoped to avoid — adding more stress to her mind.

Noticing your expression, Natasha's hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder, drawing your attention.

Her eyes soften when they meet yours with a knowing look.

“Hey, I’m serious. This is not on you,” she stresses before continuing with a pleading tone, “You’re my best friend, Y/n. I just want you to be safe.”

Her proposition from earlier reappears in your mind. The offer was kind and generous but accepting it would create too many complications, especially for Natasha.

Breaking away from her intense gaze, you look down to focus on your horse instead, finding small comfort in stroking its mane gently before quietly telling her your answer with a resigned sigh.

“I can’t stay at the castle, Natasha.”

“Why not?” she asks with a frustrated sigh.

Returning your gaze to hers, a sense of nostalgia washes over you as you look at her.

Despite growing up together, you’re still amazed at how she still manages to maintain the same determination and compassion that you’ve always seen in her since you were young.

Rather than responding directly to her, you ask a different question.

“Do you remember what you told me the first time we met?”

Natasha tilts her head in confusion, but still, she decides to go along with it anyway, curious about the point of your abrupt change in subject.

“I remember saying that you were the most stubborn person I’ve ever met," she recalls with a pointed look in her eyes.

Amused, you let out a small laugh and shake your head lightly.

“Says the one who wouldn’t stay still after she fell out of a tree.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile forms at the corner of her lips at the memory of her first official meeting with you outside of royal events.

Your mind also drifts to the past, recalling the state of the kingdom at that time when you were still children.

Even after years had passed, people were still recovering from the effects and loss of the war.

After a brief moment of contemplation, you continue.

“During that time, even with the peace treaty, there was still some resentment between our people and the Stark kingdom.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Natasha sighs solemnly in recollection before giving you a small teasing smile. “Even someone as kind as you didn’t like them back then.”

That was true.

At that time, the twins had recently entered your life after the devastating loss of their parents to some Stark stragglers in the kingdom. With that incident as well as Madam B’s constant comments throughout your childhood of how the Stark kingdom should’ve lost the war, it’s understandable why your sentiments towards the other kingdom weren't exactly favorable.

However, your perspective changed on that fateful day when you stumbled upon the injured princess at the base of the tree by the lake.

Pulling yourself from the memory, you nod your head in acknowledgment of her words about you before commenting.

“You could say almost everyone in the kingdom had some animosity with the Stark kingdom.”

Your eyes then drift to Natasha, looking at her with admiration.

“But not you,” you say softly.

When Natasha tilts her head curiously, still confused at your point, your hand reaches for hers, and she gives it to you without hesitation, intertwining your fingers.

Despite the slight roughness on her skin, a result from years of training, you only feel the warmth of her palm spreading to you and the gentleness in her grasp.

For a brief bittersweet moment, you can’t help but think about how her hand fits perfectly in yours.

Shaking away the thought, your thumb instinctively caresses the back of her hand as you explain to her.

“You have a kind heart, Natasha, always wanting to protect and care for everyone.”

Pausing your movement, you remember her words from years ago.

“Back then, you told me that when you became the queen, you’re going to heal the pain that the war had caused. For everyone. For both kingdoms.”

A small smile plays on your lips as you reminisce about the memory.

“That was the moment I knew you would become a great ruler.”

Looking up into her eyes, you tell her earnestly, “I still do, which is why I decided that day to do everything I can to help you accomplish that future you envisioned.”

Giving her a small smile, you end with a soft tone, “Because I believe in you, Natasha.”

Natasha’s eyes widen, and her mouth opens in surprise, stunned speechless at your words.

After a moment, your smile fades as you glance back down at her hand in yours before releasing it with a resigned sigh.

“But that means you can’t keep trying to protect me from every bad thing. Not when you need to focus on the entire kingdom soon.”

“I can do both,” Natasha asserts with a frown.

Determined, you shake your head in refusal.

“No, you need more allies among the other nobles than just me. When you become queen, you’ll be working with the heads of the houses, not their daughters or sons who are already charmed by you.”

Natasha huffs in annoyance at the mention of the older nobles, recalling their greed for power and favor.

You shoot her a knowing look as you point out.

“You know that bringing me into the castle will show favoritism.”

Natasha huffs in disbelief before arguing, “First of all, you are my favorite, and second, everyone already thinks we’re together.”

“But we’re not going to be for much longer,” you remind her, repeating her words from this morning. “After your coronation, you and I don’t need to be in a fake relationship anymore.”

“I didn’t—that was before—,” Natasha groans, rubbing her forehead in frustration.

You are right concerning the situation with other nobles. Navigating and balancing the political scene has always been a challenging task, even for her parents.

Once she takes the throne, all of those nobles’ scrutinizing eyes will turn to her, and they will ruthlessly pick apart every action she takes.

Bringing you in will just put you in the forefront of their attention.

Natasha drags her hand down her face tiredly, giving you a conflicted look.

“That still doesn’t make what your father is doing right,” she says.

“No, but it is my problem to worry about, not yours,” you assert firmly.

Natasha starts to argue, but you interrupt, emphasizing your point.

“As queen, you will have to choose your battles, Natasha,” you stress, giving her a serious look. “Even if it means you don’t choose me.”

Her expression twists in displeasure at your last words, a sentiment she finds difficult to accept.

However, confronted by your unrelenting and expectant gaze, Natasha sighs in frustration, shaking her head in disbelief.

"You know, I feel like you got those words from one of my mother’s lectures," she says, slightly exasperated.

Her tone eases the tension in the air a little.

“Maybe,” you reply with a small laugh.

Natasha watches you with a resigned expression.

While she doesn't entirely agree with your point, she’s not going to force you into something you don’t want.

“I still don’t like the idea of you going back to him,” Natasha remarks.

You sigh, admitting, “Well, as long as I follow his orders, he usually just leaves me alone.”

Her expression twists unhappily at that information, prompting you to place a reassuring hand on her arm before continuing.

“I do have a plan so that I can leave eventually, Natasha. Until then, I can take care of myself.” You give her a reassuring smile. “And I’m not alone. I have the twins.”

“You also have me,” Natasha says earnestly, covering your hand with hers and squeezing it gently.

“Whatever you need, the castle is always open to you.”

“I know,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you, Natasha.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After reluctantly accepting your decision, Natasha and you continue until the two of you reach a fork in the path.

Natasha slows her horse to a stop, looking to you for direction as she realizes that she doesn’t know your intended destination. In the back of her mind, she recalls Pietro mentioning something about you finding answers.

“So, where are we going?”

“The prison,” you respond to her casually, already urging your horse in its direction.

Natasha raises a brow, an unsettling feeling creeping in as she remembers Clint’s message to her on the day of the festival about the stalled interrogation of the man from the cemetery attack.

“Who are you going to see?” she asks hesitantly, catching up beside you.

“Captain James Barnes,” you reveal.

Natasha lets out a small breath of relief at your answer, her body relaxing momentarily before tensing up again as she recognizes the name.

“As in Stark’s old captain?” she questions.

At your nod, she asks in surprise, “What is he doing there?”

You pause for a moment before answering, humming a little in thought.

“My father assumes it was an assassination attempt, but when I met him, he suddenly tried to take me away,” you explain nonchalantly before noticing Natasha’s shocked expression and quickly continuing to reassure her.

“Pietro stopped him, though, and he was captured before he could do anything else.”

Natasha raises her hand in a stopping gesture as she tries to process the new information, pinching between her eyes in exasperation at you before taking a deep breath.

“So you’re telling me…you were almost kidnapped by this known criminal, and now we’re on our way to the prison to talk with him?”

You nod, confirming her words.

Natasha stares at you in disbelief for a moment in silence before quickly turning her horse around and grabbing your reins.

“That’s it, we’re going back to the castle,” she declares firmly.

“Natasha, we just talked about this,” you say, pulling your reins back from her grip.

“No, this involves a war criminal. I think I have some power over the decisions in this case,” Natasha says with a pointed look.

Despite her serious expression, you return her stare with an all-too-familiar pleading look, causing Natasha to quickly turn away, refusing to maintain eye contact with you.

It was already difficult to refuse any request from you when you look at her with that expression, but with the recent realization of her feelings, she knows she stands no chance right now.

“Natasha, please.”

She groans internally at the sound of your voice, taking a deep breath before giving you a tiny glare, which you return with a slight tilt of your head and a small pout.

Immediately, Natasha’s head falls to her chest in defeat. She can already hear Yelena’s mocking voice in her mind about how easily she gives in to you.

In a final attempt to see if you may change your mind, Natasha gives you another hard look before ultimately relenting with a sigh.

“Okay, fine, but I’m staying beside you the entire time, and you can’t get too close to him.”

When your face brightens with a satisfied smile in victory, Natasha huffs and shakes her head in disbelief.

Despite her reaction, though, a warm feeling spreads in her chest at your happy expression, reminding her of the original reason she had come to see you.

As the two of you ride side by side on the path, Natasha decides to take this opportunity to continue the conversation that was previously interrupted.

However, before delving back into that discussion, there was another topic concerning something from earlier that she wanted to ask you about first.

“Y/n, back at the manor, when I was climbing to your window…,” Natasha starts, causing you to look at her curiously.

“I overheard some parts of your conversation with the twins,” she admits.

With a desire to confirm her suspicion based on the fragments she heard, Natasha presses on with her question when she notices your surprised expression.

"When you told me that you liked someone…you didn’t mean Carol, did you?"

Natasha observes as your eyes widen and your lips part in surprise before you quickly shake your head to get out of your shocked state.

“Oh, that’s—uh, I mean, Carol’s…great. Anybody would like—um…” you wince slightly at your loss of words.

With a raised brow, Natasha waits as you stumble over your words before you finally confess under your breath with a sigh.

“...no, I wasn’t talking about her.”

A sense of relief washes over Natasha at your words before she questions you with an amused smile.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

You respond with a disbelieving huff.

“Well, why did you assume it was her?” you counter.

“The two of you seemed so close during the festival, and at the bonfire, you were blushing a lot with her,” Natasha points out accusingly.

“That’s because she was teasing me about y—” you shut your mouth, stopping yourself before you finish.

In the heat of defending yourself, you nearly revealed that all of your flustered reactions at that time were about Natasha.

Glancing over at her to see if she noticed your slip-up, you groan internally when you recognize her pleased expression.

Natasha is grinning widely at the revelation, her eyes lighting up happily as if she's finally solved a mystery.

When your hand covers your face in embarrassment, she knows you also figured out that she has already guessed what you meant to say.

At your slight blush, she can’t help but want to tease you a little bit more, tilting her head to try and catch your attention.

“You know, I think I heard you mention my name too. What were you about to say about me before I appeared?”

You purposely avoid meeting her eyes, wishing the ground would just swallow you up already.

Having Natasha suspect that your feelings for someone were actually for her was not something that you had expected to happen, especially considering how your previous discussion this morning ended.

Choosing to ignore her question, you point to the distance ahead and try to divert the conversation.

“I think we’re nearing the prison. We should probably concentrate and focus our attention on what we’ll do when we get there.”

Natasha's grin widen at your flustering and poor attempt to change the subject.

As you prepare to urge your horse forward, her hand reaches over to hold your reins again, stopping you.

Done with all the teasing, Natasha decides to reciprocate some vulnerability, understanding that you might be feeling exposed at the moment.

She nudges your arm gently to get your attention.

Once your eyes reluctantly meet hers, Natasha begins softly.

“Remember how I said I realized something? Turns out I'm facing a similar problem to what you had this morning.”

Confused, you furrow your brows, prompting Natasha to smile fondly at you. She takes a deep breath before admitting with a happy sigh.

“Apparently, there is someone I like, but I don’t know how they feel about me,” Natasha echoes your words from this morning before tilting her head meaningfully, adding, "She’s one of my closest friends too."

Your eyes widen in surprise and uncertainty as you try to come up with a response.

That warm feeling returns to your chest, but you try not to let that hope grow too fast.

At your silence, Natasha presses on, asking, "What should I do?"

Clearing your throat nervously, you finally find your voice as you repeat the response she had given you.

“Well, you said you would’ve just asked them directly about how they felt about you.”

“I did, didn't I?” Natasha says in contemplation. She pauses for a second before a small smirk forms on her face, and she focuses her intense gaze on you.

“So, Y/n, how do you feel about me?”

Your eyes search hers in disbelief at the implication of her question towards you. You try to spot any signs of her usual teasing, but there is only genuine anticipation and hope in her expression.

Caught off guard by the sudden realization, you stammer, “I—um…”

As Natasha waits for your response, the sound of rustling and footsteps from the shadows of the trees catches her attention, setting her instincts on edge.

Her body instantly straightens in alertness as she observes the surroundings.

At the faint sound of a mechanism engaging and then a quiet click, Natasha quickly grabs you, pulling you off your horse and onto the ground just as a heavy net shoots out from the trees.

Your horses whine in panic as the net soars past them, where it would have caught you and Natasha if the two of you hadn’t moved.

Instead, the complex mesh of thick ropes and weighted edges lands with a resounding thud on the ground, ensnaring nothing but air.

Natasha and you landed in a tangled heap, her hands instinctively shielding your head and body as the both of you roll to a stop.

The surrounding area seems to hold its breath for a second before the sound of hurried footsteps causes the two of you to rise quickly to your feet.

Three menacing men emerge from the trees, each brandishing a weapon as they advance toward you and Natasha, undeterred by the failure of their initial trap.

Natasha pulls her sword from its sheath and hands it to you with a smirk.

“It’s a good thing we practiced this morning, huh?” she teases lightly.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly as you take the sword.

Natasha is more than capable of taking on these ruffians, but knowing that you are not defenseless will probably help her concentrate more on them than having to also worry about you.

The attackers quickly rush at the two of you, and Natasha immediately engages in combat with two of them simultaneously while the third one dodges her attacks and goes for you.

You raise the sword in defense as it clashes against his before the two of you engage in a fight.

He was bigger than you, but luckily, that just means that you are faster than his movements.

You find yourself dodging and parrying his swings, but his experience with a sword allows him to defend from most of your attacks easily.

Seeing no way to break through his defense, you spot a large tree nearby and come up with an idea.

While dodging his attacks, you discreetly move toward its direction, leading him closer.

Right as your back hits the trunk of the tree, a particularly powerful swing knocks the sword out of your hand.

The attacker grins victoriously, thinking you are cornered, and lunges forward with a powerful thrust.

Swiftly ducking out of the way, you cause his sword to impale deep into the tree instead.

With him stunned at his stuck weapon, you knock his arm away from the sword and then swiftly hook your leg around the back of his knee, sweeping it out from under him.

Before he can recover, you quickly pick up your fallen sword and slam its hilt against the back of his head.

Catching your breath, you let out a breath of relief when you see that he is unconscious.

Next thing you know, your body is pulled away from the man, and Natasha’s hands are moving gently across your face as she examines you.

Seeing that you are okay, she glances at the man on the ground before giving you an excited smile in realization.

“You were watching me that day,” Natasha points out happily.

That last action that you just performed was almost exactly the same as her finishing move during her spar with Steve.

Based on your evasive behavior toward her at that time, Natasha had thought that you were avoiding her to the point where you didn’t even want to watch her train anymore.

You offer her sword back to her with a small roll of your eyes.

Behind her, you see the other two attackers already on the ground, subdued.

“You already know that I’ve always liked watching you train," you remind her.

Instead of taking the sword, Natasha wraps her hand around yours and pulls you a step closer to her, bringing your body and face near hers.

She playfully tilts her head at you with a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Weren't you just about to tell me about something else that you like before we were interrupted?” Natasha challenges.

You huff and shake your head in disbelief, realizing her intention.

Refusing to be the first to give in, especially with her confident and charming smirk in place, you decide to lean in even closer instead, bringing your face just a breath away from hers.

“I don’t know, Natasha, is there something you want to tell me?” you whisper challengingly, lowering your tone.

Natasha’s smirk widens in amusement as she maintains her position, seemingly unaffected, but looking closer, you notice a slight change in her eyes as they darken and briefly dart down to your lips.

Understanding dawns on you as you recall all the times you’ve seen that look on her before.

A charged tension fills the air as both of you stubbornly await the other to give in.

After a moment, Natasha finally releases a shaky breath and leans her head against yours, unable to resist anymore with you so close to her.

However, before any word can escape her parted lips, the tranquility is shattered by the sound of an arrow being released and a grunt emanating from the trees.

Turning in unison, you and Natasha witness the hidden attacker tumbling from the tree to the ground.

Your gaze then shifts to the source of the arrow, revealing a familiar figure behind the bow.

“Clint,” Natasha greets before complimenting, "Nice shot."

He puts away his bow and approaches both of you with a raised brow.

“You two are adorable, but next time, please check your surroundings again before running into each other’s arms,” he advises.

Feeling a bit embarrassed, you clear your throat awkwardly and take a step back from Natasha.

However, her hand catches your side, keeping you close.

“Where are the two of you going? And without an escort, at that,” he ask, with the last part directed pointedly in reprimand at Natasha, who responds with a slight roll of her eyes.

"To the prison," you answer him.

"What about you? What are you doing running around with your bow again?" Natasha asks curiously.

Clint gestures to the attackers, unconscious on the ground.

“These men are from the Hydra's den, which happened to be suspiciously deserted when I passed by this morning,” he reveals with a serious tone.

Natasha frowns upon hearing the information.

The central area where mercenaries usually occupy being suddenly empty is never a good sign.

“Rumlow?” Natasha asks in suspicion.

This behavior is too unusual for the noble known for his affiliations with such groups to deny any knowledge of what is happening.

Clint shrugs unsurely, grimacing, “He’s not at his manor. My informant didn’t arrive at the usual meeting time either, so I came to investigate.”

He gestures towards you and Natasha.

“If you two are also heading to the prison, then it's better if I stay with you, especially after this ambush. I’m assuming you're taking Lady Y/n to see…,” Clint trails off when he sees Natasha discreetly shaking her head, signaling him to stop talking, but it is too late.

At his words, you quickly turn to Natasha with suspicion, raising your brow.

There’s no way Clint would know about Barnes so soon, so he must be referring to someone else at the prison, and judging by Natasha’s reaction, she knows exactly who he meant.

Natasha shoots a glare at Clint, who has suddenly taken an interest in looking up at the skies. She winces slightly when she glances back at you and sees your accusatory stare.

With a resigned sigh, she reveals, “There may have been a request…by that attacker from the cemetery to speak with you before he would answer any of our questions.”

“Natasha!” you exclaim in reprimand for keeping such information concerning you a secret.

She raises her hands in defense, arguing, “He’s a threat against the kingdom, which means I can make decisions concerning him about you.”

“You can't use that excuse every time,” you tell her, poking her in the shoulder pointedly at her attempt of creating a loophole to indirectly protect you.

Natasha responds with an amused smile, catching your hands and interlocking them together. She raises her brows and remarks teasingly.

"Yes, I can. I'm still your princess, remember?"

Rolling your eyes at her usual teasing reminder, you shove her lightly in response with your clasped hands, which elicits a chuckle from her.

Clint lets out a smile as he observes the close interaction between you and Natasha, commenting with an assuring nod, “Yeah, you two really are adorable together.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

Series Masterlist : Boundless Devotion

a/n: Thank you for reading! I may have been delusional saying that there would two/three more parts left of this series two parts ago, but it should be around two parts left after this one (i think).

Taglist: @lightwhoranoutoflight, @taliiiaasteria, @romanoffprentiss, @canvascoloredin, @silentwolfsstuff, @blacklightsposts, @arcturusseer, @presser24, @dvrkhcld, @jujuu23, @screechcat, @vivs46, @cd-4848, @youneversawmehereooooooo, @pancakefan7529, @confusedspaceotter, @natbelovasblog, @izzy-b09, @iamheartless, @mrsrushman, @fxckmiup, @natty-taffy, @2silverchain, @traveler-at-heart, @autorasexy, @natsxwife, @mviswidow, @slut4johansson

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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riordanness · 2 months

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all i’ve ever wanted - [w.wonka]

wordcount: 2.0K

requested: yes! anon <3

warnings: bit of angst and heartbreak

I watch, a smile on my face as Willy walks slowly through the old building.

“So?” Noodle asks expectantly. “Do you like it?” I know how hard she tried to get this for him. She wanted nothing but for him to be happy, and I agreed. Willy Wonka was the kind of person you couldn’t bear to see sad.

“Do I like it?” Willy breaks into a smile. “Oh, Noodle, it’s just as I always imagined. No, scratch that–it’s better than I imagined!”

Noodle grins, and jumps up to give him a hug. I watch them, a twinge in my gut. I think I’d give anything to hug him like that.

Piper lets out a cheer, and Lottie and I exchange a grin.

We had a huge job ahead of us, but with Willy Wonka, I’m pretty sure just about anything is possible.

I stand beside Noodle, cradling a perfect blue chocolate flower in my hands. Willy has his hand on the doors, ready to walk out and announce to the world that Wonka’s Chocolate Shop is officially open for business.

I exchange an excited grin with Noodle, then I turn my focus to Willy. He takes a deep breath, muttering something so quietly that I can’t hear; then he pushes open the doors.

Sunlight filters into the dark room, illuminating the faces of my friends. We’re all holding our breaths in anticipation.

“Ladies and gentleman,” Willy announces, his voice strong and clear. “Welcome to Wonka’s. Incredible things are waiting in store, both literally and metaphorically.”

“What, in there?” A man’s voice sounds incredulous.

“Humour me.” Willy has a smile in his voice.

He leads the older man through the shop, as the six of us light up the building, pulling ropes and shooting strings of sugary goodness into the air. Lottie passes out umbrellas, Crunch and Larry ride the bicycles, and I hand out mini chocolate baskets to the children.

It’s beautiful, and it’s amazing, and I keep finding myself staring at Willy, his face alive with joy and contentedness. This is all he’s ever wanted, and I’m so glad I get to share it with him.

People have begun to line up at the front counter, their chocolate baskets filled to the brim with colourful goodies. Abacus is on the till, typing in numbers, writing receipts and giving out change. Noodle is beside him, handing out smiles.

I spot Willy, standing alone, gazing happily at the joyful customers around him. I trip merrily over, coming to a stop at his side. “Congrations, Mr Chocolatier.”

His smile is warmer than melted chocolate. “Thank you, dear y/n.” His eyes flit once more over the shop, then settle on me. “And thank you, so so much, for doing so much for me and for this shop.”

I laugh, a little awkwardly. “It’s no problem at all.”

“You see, this thing is…” He seems to hesitate, like he’s unsure of what to say.

“Go on,” I say quietly.

“Y/n, I know I have only known you for a short time. I also know that most of that time was spent either scrubbing laundry or you and Noodle trying to teach me to read, but in that short amount of time I have fallen in love with you. I love the way you laugh, and sing, and how you always try to make the people around you happy even if you’re really the one who needs comforting. You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known, sweeter than even my best chocolates. I’ve spent my entire life alone and on the move, and now I... I can’t imagine not being in yours.”

He stops, taking a deep breath.

I stare at him, a little bit in shock. “What are you saying?” I ask, my voice barely above a hoarse whisper.

“I’m saying that I’m in love with you.” He doesn’t meet my eyes, shyly playing with his cane instead.

“Oh.”

His face scrunches a little, and he sighs. “I’m sorry. That probably wasn't the right thing to say.”

“No!” I shake my head adamantly. “No, it–it was perfect, Willy.” I don’t know why I’m so worried about this, but I try for a not-so-nervous smile. “I’m in love with you too, you know. From the first second you fell down that laundry chute. I just didn’t tell you because, well, I didn’t think I would ever be good enough for someone like you, Willy.”

He laughs under his breath. “Y/n, you are the one no one could ever be good enough for.”

“Really?” My voice is small, but I can hear my smile in the word.

“Yes.” He nods, then reaches for me, his fingertips delicately brushing my cheek. I instinctively lean into his touch, and my heart feels full to burst with happiness. He’s all I’ve ever wanted.

And when he kisses me, it feels like my chest is filled with melted chocolate.

Horror fills me as I stare at what’s left of Wonka’s shop. Smoke rises in small, winding columns. Lottie carries a fire extinguisher, putting out any little leftover fires. Melted chocolate, disintegrated sweets, and shattered glass are everywhere.

“What happened?” Piper asks desperately, tears glittering in her eyes.

“The chocolate cartel,” Abacus replies gruffly, wiping the ash from his shirt.

I exchange a heartbroken look with Noodle, watching as she lays a hand on Willy’s shoulder. He’s sitting downheartedly on the floor, his eyes fixed resolutely on the half-melted chocolate cherry tree.

“It’s okay, Willy,” Noodle tries to insist, “we can rebuild.”

“It’s no use, Noodle.” Willy doesn’t even look at her. “She wasn't here.”

Noodle’s face clears in understanding. “You didn’t seriously think that–”

“Oh, I did,” Willy says. “She pinky promised.”

“Willy–”

“Come on, Noodle,” Abacus breaks in, touching her on the arm gently. “I think Mr Wonka needs to be alone.”

Noodle sighs and follows Crunch out, while the rest of the crew silently file after them, leaving just Willy and I.

I sit gingerly beside him. “Are you okay, my love?”

Willy seems to stiffen at my words. “I’m fine. Please, I’d—I'd like to be alone right now. I’ll see you back at the laundry.”

I want to argue. I want to stay. But I understand. “Alright.” I get to my feet, and leave quietly, glancing back at Willy twice. Neither time does he look back at me.

Little did I know that I know that I wouldn’t see him back at the laundry, and that my last image of him was his hunched and upset figure, curled over his knees.

Noodle sits on my bed, watching me. I’m curled into a ball, hugging my pillow close to my chest.

“Y/n,” she says again, “it’s okay. He’s gonna come back.”

I shake my head. “He isn’t, Noodle. You heard Mrs Scrubbit downstairs. He made a deal with the Cartel. He’s gone.”

Noodle sighs. “I don’t believe that.”

“Well you should,” I say aggressively, sitting up. “He left us. He—he didn’t even say goodbye.” My voice breaks. Tears gather in my throat again, and I’m flooded with angry sobs.

“Do you want to be alone?” Noodle whispers.

Just before I can answer, Bleacher bangs on the door. “Time to get up! Mrs Scrubbit wants you all downstairs before breakfast.”

I groan, and pull myself up off my rickety bed. “Come on, Noodle-dee,” I say softly. “We’d better go see what she wants.”

Noodle tries to smile, for me. “Okay, y/n-doo.”

I file after her down the stairs, falling in line with the rest of the laundry crew.

“Look at all the long faces ‘round here,” Mrs Scrubbit says, a glint in her eye. “It’s almost like you lot has a sneaky little plan to escape.”

We line up, facing Mrs Scrubbit. “Your friend, Mr Wonka, done a deal with Mr Slugworth. Settled your accounts. Crunch, you’re free to go.”

One by one, Abacus, Lottie, Piper, and Larry all get a little ticket and leave. Soon, it’s just Noodle and I left.

“And now for you two.” Mrs Scrubbit’s smile is sickly sweet. “The biggest piles of the lot. But these ain’t to let you go.”

“What?” Noodle demands.

“Mr Slugworth doesn’t think nasty little orphans like you should be out on the streets, Noodle. This money is to keep you locked up for good.”

“I hate you!” Noodle shouts, slamming her fists into the bench. “You—“

Mr Bleacher grabs her, holding her arms still.

“Look at her go, Lord Bleacherfitz!” Mrs Scrubbit says gleefully.

“You don’t still think he’s a lord, do you?” Noodle cries. “We made it all up, you stupid old hag!”

“Why you little brat—“ Mrs Scrubbit clutches Noodle by the shirt. “You’re going in the coop, my girl! And you.” She points at me. “To the wash house, forever. You’ll never see daylight again, you hear?”

She drags Noodle away, both of them yelling.

I’m left with Bleacher, feeling as if I have a heavy weight on my chest. I can’t believe he just left us. Got a ticket out of here and abandoned Noodle and I.

I thought… I thought he loved me.

“Down you go,” Bleacher says gruffly. “Now!” He shoves me unceremoniously down the laundry chute, and I don’t even try to stop him. I land in a heap of clothes, and I don’t move.

I stare at the ceiling, at all the washing lines and steaming cracks in the roof.

My head hurts, but nothing compares to my heartache. I don’t think I will ever get over Willy Wonka. He’s the kind of person you only meet once, and you never forget them. Especially if you loved them with your entire heart.

But sometimes people like that aren’t good inside, and they can leave you, hurt and lonely and destroyed.

He’s gone, and I’m alone.

I must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because I rouse when I hear Noodle’s familiar voice. “Y/n, come on!” she hisses, grabbing my hands and pulling me to my feet. “We’ve gotta go!”

I blink sleepily. “Wait, what? How did you—“

“He came back! They all did.”

“He… Willy?” I don’t want to believe it, I don’t want to see him but oh, I do. I do.

Noodle’s curls jump wildly as she nods. “Yes! He’s come back for us, c’mon!”

I follow her to the dumb waiter chute, and we both climb inside, clicking it shut. I press the ‘up’ button, and the crate clicks and shudders into motion.

I’m half excited, half still hurt. I can't decide if I truly want to see him or not. I mean–I’m in love with him, and I have ever since I first laid eyes on the curly headed chocolate boy, but at the same time… He left me, five minutes after confessing he supposedly loved me back.

The instant I see his face, waiting for us at the top of the laundry chute, a bright and anxious smile plastered on his familiar face, I’m torn yet another way. Gods, I’m in love with him.

“Y/n!” he says, grabbing me into his arms the second he sees me. “I’m so sorry–I, are you alright?”

I’m a little flustered, and not quite sure how to reply. “Hi, Willy.”

He must notice my slight stiffness, how my voice is trying its best to emotionlessness. “Hey, I really am sorry. I should never have ever tried to leave. I regretted it instantly. I promise, I will never leave you ever again.”

I look up into his eyes. “You promise?” My voice cracks on the words.

His eyes soften immediately. “Yeah, my love, I promise.”

“Okay.” I decide to believe him, mostly because the thought of being without him again hurt more than the chance of being left again.

#wonka #wonka movie #wonka 2023 #willy wonka #wonka x reader #willy wonka x reader #fanfiction #to read #fanfic #wonka movie 2023 #timothee chalamet #timothée calamet #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet x reader

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sugoi-and-spice · 9 months

Text

Commission for the AMAZINGLY patient @i-likebread . Thank you so much for such a fun idea and again, for your patience during my summer writing dry spell. ^_^

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader, Yuji Itadori x Reader

Summary: At the end of the day, curses were trophic beings. Sukuna? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed. Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue. The prey.

Rating: Explicit - Minors DNI

CW: Dub-Con, Non-Con, Rape by Deception, Cuckholding, Rough Sex, Virginity Loss, Painful Virginity Loss, Manipulation, mentions of Ero-Guro

If you're interested in getting your own Commission done, please refer to my Commission Sheet and shoot me a DM or e-mail! ^_^

Cross-Posted on AO3.

Everyone had told Yuji Itadori that it was a bad idea. A very bad idea. After all, just dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer at all came with its fair share of risks. Dating as a Jujutsu Sorcerer while sharing a body with the King of Curses? It should’ve rendered him completely celibate. But to go beyond that, to not only date, but to date a normal, powerless girl with absolutely no knowledge of the existence of Jujutsu society and curses?

Now that was downright stupid.

Those were Gojo’s words too! Satoru Gojo’s — the stupid idea savant! That had certainly gotten Yuji to second guess things. When he left to meet her for their first official date, he’d gone there with all the intentions of breaking things off. But then…

Well, there wasn’t any big revelation. She’d just been her. And he just couldn’t let her go. There were very few moments in his life these days that were able to be just sweet and simple. So any he could have, he knew that he had to cling to, and cling to tight. And moments spent with her? They made him feel like life would never be complicated again.

So six months later, here they were at the matsuri of a temple near her school. And boy, watching her knelt over the shateki stall, silly little tongue sticking out of her mouth as she concentrated so deeply on the balloon she was aiming at, could he not regret it any less. Especially not when she looked so damn cute in that yukata.

POP!

“I got it!” she jumped back from the carnival game with a squeal, accidentally knocking Yuji in the chest with the pellet gun.

“Oomf—!”

She gasped, “Oh my gosh I’m so sorry!” and rushed forward to check his chest, almost hitting him in the face this time, “Are you hurt?!”

He was able to anticipate it this time though, catching the muzzle of the rifle in his palm with a laugh, “I’m fine, I’m fine. Let’s just put this down, alright?”

She relinquished it immediately, bringing her hands to her face to try and cover her blush as she nodded frantically. The moment had finally caught up to her, the fact that she’d almost taken him out twice with the toy rifle and got completely in his face, touching his chest. And the cutest embarrassment came along with it.

That was one of the things he really liked about her. She was shy and soft-spoken, but that didn’t stop her from ever living or hiding her true feelings when push came to shove. Especially when they involved other people. She often got ahead of herself, feet moving before her brain, throwing manners out the window if it meant helping somebody in need, blurting out the silliest little nonsensicals to try to ease an awkward silence. But never failing to revert back to that shyness and feel embarrassed about it in a way that always brought a smile to his face.

“Your prize, Miss.”

They both turned back to the game-tender, and Yuji instantly froze when he saw the prize being handed to her.

A little yarn doll, just big enough to be a keychain, and it— holy shit, it looked like—

“Aww, look at him Yuji!” she beamed, holding the doll up next to his face, “It looks just like you!”

He could feel his heart freeze with dread, his stomach twisting.

“W-What are you talking about?! No it doesn’t! It’s got tattoos!”

“Yeah. And four arms,” she rolled her eyes, “But look! It’s got your hair and eyes and that mischievous little smirk,” she wiggled it closer to his cheek, “That’s all troublemaker. All Yuji Itadori.”

He swatted the little doll away from his face, growing more and more prickly the longer she held it so close to him, “Is not!”

She giggled, taking his whining as embarrassment over being teased rather than anything serious,and pulled the doll back to clutch into her own palms lovingly.

“And it’s cute…” she blushed a little as she whispered, “...just like you.”

Yuji softened at the sight.

He needed to take it easy. It’s not like she could know the history there, the thing it actually looked like — he’d made absolute sure that she hadn’t, after all.

But still, the question remained:

“What’s it supposed to be anyway?” he asked, “A mascot or something?”

He had to know, it was just uncanny how much it looked like Sukuna. And this temple didn’t have any ties to the Jujutsu world that he knew of. Not that he knew a lot. But he hadn’t seen any sorcerers or cursed energy residuals in the area. If anything, it was weird how few curses — even flyheads — were in this area, considering how old the temple was.

“I guess it’s the guardian spirit of this temple,” she answered.

Yuji’s eyes widened. No. No, there was no freaking way.

“This thing?” he pressed in disbelief, “But he— I mean it looks more like a demon than a guardian spirit.”

“That’s kind of the interesting thing!” she explained excitedly, “My homeroom teacher was telling us about it last week. I think the story goes, that in a war between spirits and humans, the peasants this temple served were constantly caught in the crossfire. That is, until a dedicated, benevolent demon came along and vowed to protect the temple even while the rest of the world burnt around it.”

She presented the doll to him, “This little guy is that demon.”

It was all Yuji could do to not roll his eyes at her. Okay. Now he knew it was just a coincidence. Because sure. Benevolent. That’s what Sukuna was.

What a bunch of crap.

Oi. Sukuna suddenly gruffed in his head. I’m plenty fucking benevolent.

Yuji went rigid. Sukuna didn’t talk to him often. And honestly, he preferred it that way. He could nap and plot and flit away the time however he did in his own soul, while Yuji enjoyed the life surrounding his. Rarely did he actually tune in and observe Yuji’s life unless there was a battle or an… opportunity at hand.

So the fact that he seemed to be paying attention now was more than a bit worrying.

What, you gonna tell me that the story is true or something? Yuji snapped right back at his squatter bodymate. That you actually protected a temple?

Could be.

Yuji’s breath hitched.

O-Oh yeah? he demanded, trying to not reveal his wavering confidence. And what was the catch? There’s no way you were some guardian out of the goodness of your heart.

He could practically hear Sukuna smirk inside his head and it unnerved him. Sukuna was privy to all kinds of information about curses and Jujutsu that Yuji learned at school, a lot of which even involved the King of Curses himself. Yet he hardly had anything to comment on then. So why was he so damn talkative about this story?

I protected the shrine… Never said shit about the people in it. And then that horrible, raucous laughter of Sukuna’s echoed in his head.

“Shut up!”

“Huh?”

Yuji snapped back to his girlfriend, who stared back at him with wide, confused eyes. Shit. He said that outloud, didn’t he?

“Sh-Shut up— no way they’ve got fluffy ice!” he tried to save, pointing past her to a nearby stall, “We gotta get some!”

She looked behind her, following his finger, and then laughed, relieved that it was something as simple as that rather than something she might have said, “I swear, all you ever think about is food, Yuji.”

“That’s not true… I think about you a lot.”

…is what Yuji would’ve said if he were smoother, more confident, and convinced that a line like that wouldn’t send her running for the hills. But of course, he wasn’t any of those things. So he just rubbed the back of his head with a sheepish laugh and nodded when she suggested they go get in line for some.

He wanted to just enjoy the night, to forget about curses and Jujutsu and most of all Sukuna — he practically dared the curse to make another fucking remark, to get all of his unwelcome commentary out now while he could. But the inside of his head had gone, thankfully, radio silent. So he made peace with the fact that Sukuna had gotten bored with all of this and had gone back into his own soul to sleep.

But no. Sukuna was not gone, nor bored. Far from it.

He was hungry.

Sukuna watched Yuji’s little girlfriend through his host’s eyes.

He’d excused himself to go use the restroom soon after they’d gotten their fluffy ice to split, and now he’d just stopped to watch her, sitting on a bench near the edge of the temple, the mouth of the forest, and enjoying her frozen treat with childish glee. The lovestruck fool was living in the moment, watching her with a heart full of warmth and just wanting to take it all in.

For Sukuna however, his stare was full of a hunger growing more and more ravenous with every second.

Of course she looked delicious at all times. In her school uniform (girl’s uniforms were one of the few innovations of this era he could fully get behind), in her gym clothes the times she and Yuji went jogging together. Even that little floral sundress number she’d worn on their last date had really gotten his motor going. She was just a gorgeous little thing, and exactly his type.

Sickeningly sweet and salaciously stupid.

But there was something about her right now, dolled up in a snow white yukata, walking under the warm glow of the traditional lanterns, down the path of a temple he once called home — she looked like she could have existed just like this, a thousand years ago. That she could’ve encountered him when he was at the height of his power, looking just like this.

It took everything in him not to utter “Extension” and tear her to pieces in front of every pair of prying eyes right here on this stone path.

But no. He had to control himself.

He had to plan his moves carefully, he couldn’t just cause havoc willy-nilly, not without raising an unignorable alarm for the Jujutsu Sorcerers to put Yuji Itadori and himself down like Old Yeller. No, now was not the time to rape and pillage and have his fun.

It didn’t mean he was happy about it, though.

Somehow, there was something even worse about not being able to have his way in this form then it had been when his soul was fractured for a thousand years. At least before he’d manifested, he was held back by the fact that it was impossible to do anything else — he literally couldn’t have physically let loose even if he wanted to. He was essentially stuck in purgatory.

But now, when he had the full ability to ravage but had to keep himself in check, with only himself and his self-preservation to answer to? God, it practically fucking burned. It wasn’t right. If he didn’t get some kind of outlet soon, he was going to go crazy.

It was like he was a dog, kept chained and locked up within the cage of his own skin. But that’s not what he was. He wasn’t a fucking housepet. He was a hunter, a predator.

And a damned good one at that.

There was a huge difference between other Curses and Sukuna. The sorcerers had decided to define this difference by grades. But Sukuna believed that the real explanation was much less academic, much more simple.

After all, just because a curse was “Special Grade” didn’t mean that it was worth a damn. It could have all the cursed energy in the world, but if it didn’t know how to properly hunt? It’d be lucky to last a century.

They were trophic beings at the end of the day.

Low-level Curses, like flyheads? They were, at best, Primary Consumers. If he were being blunt, most of them were Producers, barely above algae. They tended to draw in more Jujutsu Sorcerers than they were worth. Sitting fucking ducks.

That waste of space from the Juvenile Detention Center? A Secondary Consumer. He could pick off the herbivores that were humans. Injured zebras falling behind the herd like his host and the little girl with the hammer.

And the little patchwork punk? The one that dared to put his pathetic mitts on his soul twice? Sukuna would be generous and call him a Tertiary Consumer. He sure did give that Seven to Three Sorcerer and his host a run for their money.

But Sukuna, himself? Of course, he was an apex predator. He knew how to wait, to watch, to be patient. To wait until his prey was in exactly the right position where victory, making the kill, was guaranteed.

Enter: Yuji’s new little girlfriend. The ingénue.

The prey.

…

Okay, so maybe she was some low-hanging fruit, but it’s not like he could be too choosy. And boy was she ripe for the picking.

Besides, a top of the food chain hunter such as himself knew how to make some fun, a chase out of anything.

Yes, little Yuji Itadori should’ve listened to his teachers. Dating a non-sorcerer, bringing such a tempting piece of meat into his eyeline and waving it around so proudly was a very bad idea.

And Sukuna lived for bad ideas.

“Extension.”

She perked up as Yuji re-approached, “Hey—!” then paused, head cocking as she noticed something… different about him.

“What’s with the…?” she gestured over her face, indicating the black marks now running across his skin.

“They were doing some face-painting at one of the booths,” he answered simply, lowly, “Looks good, right?”

She flushed a bit at the timber of his voice, eyes dropping to the cup of fluffy ice in her hands. Even imitating Itadori, there was a huskiness, a darkness in Sukuna’s voice that couldn’t be masked. And it sent shivers straight up his prey’s lovely spine.

“Y-Yeah… Looks really good.”

He smirked. Trap set.

“Really good, huh?” he purred, sitting on the bench not only next to her, but with his legs pressing hard against hers.

Her cheeks flushed, giggling as he slid his arm behind her shoulders on the bench, and giddy embarrassment set her body afloat. She liked this, liked it a lot. She always wanted Yuji to sweet-talk and touch her like this, more than she really should honestly. But she was way too embarrassed to ever admit that herself. So this extra flirty mood he seemed to be in at the moment was sending her straight to Cloud 9.

“...Uh— Uh-huh. R-Really good.”

She hazarded a look at his face again, the intensity, the uninhibited desire burning like coal in those lazy-lidded eyes sending an all new feeling of excitement through her body. One she’d been denying for a while.

With a squeak, she looked back forward, jutting the cup of fluffy ice over in his general direction, “D-Do you want some more?!”

He barely paid the measly little treat any mind, far more invested in the delicacy so pretty and wrapped up in an obi for him.

“Yeah, why not.”

She turned towards him, eyes focussing on his tight chest rather than his sinful eyes, so that she could pick up the spoon and feed him. But before she could even touch the utensil, he reached past it, towards her, and caught a little drip of sweet syrup at the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

Her breath hitched, loud and embarrassingly. But this only seemed to spur him on. He brushed it slowly along the length of her lower lip, pressing it in ever so slightly when he got to the center, kissing the pad of his thumb to her teeth. He could feel everything about her through this, the way her throat bobbed anxiously, the shuttering breath against his skin, the way her tongue sank forward instinctually to meet him.

She couldn’t help it, the hypnotic lull that it pulled her into. Her eyes started to shutter closed, but in doing so she noticed something.

His nails.

Sukuna clocked this almost simultaneously, whipping his hand back before she completely lost her stupor and bringing the thumb to his own lips, nails hidden from sight. He made a show of licking the residuals of sweetness off of it, eyes boring straight into hers.

“Tastes even better this way,” he purred.

She flushed and turned away quickly and completely, her back to him, beyond embarrassed, “Y-Yuji—!”

“What?”

“That’s so embarrassing,” she squeaked.

“What do you mean?” he husked, leaning in from above her, pressing impossibly closer into her back, “What’s so embarrassing about loving the way you taste?”

Sukuna could feel her cheeks heat up as he slotted his nose into her shoulder, “In fact…”

He pressed his mouth, motionless, into the nape of her neck. He breathed into it, doing everything in his power to get a whisper of a taste of that skin, without devouring her whole.

“I’d love to taste more.”

He ran his hands down her arms, nails catching on every goosebump. They were going slow, teasing, but they weren’t stopping. No, they were not stopping their descent. Not until they got to—

“Y-Yuji,” she gasped out an embarrassed laugh as his hands slipped down to cover her own over the cup, sticky and cold from the fluffy ice dripping forgotten over them, “Come on, there are people around…”

“And?” Sukuna’s fingers weaved with her own squeezing tight, his hips slanting flush against her ass, “If there weren’t people around?”

She tilted her head back, startled by how close his lips were to hers when she did so. Startled, but not scared off. No. Intoxicated. Caught in the center of the spider’s web.

Trapped. Right where he wanted her.

Sukuna’s smirk widened and he caught her lips, all pretense gone. He was going in for the kill.

There was a reason why she was easy prey, and it wasn’t just because she was meek and malleable, easy for Sukuna to overwhelm even without powers.

It was because she wanted this from Yuji, had wanted it for a while, actually. If he didn’t know from all the needing looks and batting lashes she’d sent his way over the last six months — a virgin whore if he’d ever seen one — it was more than obvious now. The way she grinded against him, gasped excitedly as he shoved her against a tree, back arching as he turned the top of her yukata into a belt, exposing her bare chest to his rough, relentless palms.

He was brought back to the other fucks he’d had under this very tree, when he’d been able to dig his claws into the flesh of shrine maidens until he felt bone. Or that village girl whose spine he’d snapped in half as he came.

This wasn’t nearly as physically exhilarating as those times, but there was something oddly even more exciting about it on a sentimental level. Of course, it was his first fuck in over a millennia, and a virgin at that (his fucking favorite), but she was Yuji’s too.

Yuji’s girlfriend, Yuji’s love, Yuji’s prize to be won — and he’d stolen her right under the brat’s nose. The only thing that would make it better would be if Yuji could actually see it right now.

He could let that go for now though, especially considering how pliant and eager she was, the way she held back her yelps and locked down any complaints as they slipped down to the cold, crackly ground, her bare back grinding hard into the bark. He knew that it hurt her, he could smell the blood and feel the way her breath hitched in his mouth, and yet miraculously, she didn’t say a word. She wanted this to happen, she wanted to make him happy. And she was too shy to voice anything that might result in otherwise.

“You ready?” he purred, already shoving his pants down to his knees and giving himself a few preparatory pumps, regardless of her answer.

She gulped, and nodded hurriedly.

As soon as he moved her panties to the side and rubbed the head of his cock against her entrance exploratorily, Sukuna knew she was lying. Her body was clearly not quite there. She was plenty wet, sure, but she was still tense from the nerves, and shallow from the lack of prep.

That was fine though. Actually, it was great. That added ring of resistance? That’s what made virgins and victims the absolute perfect prey, that’s what made them intoxicating.

He couldn’t have held back if he wanted to.

Without any other warning, he slammed his hips forward, fucking her fully.

She cried out with a volume that was clearly not all from joy. She was hurt. And he almost came on the spot at the sound.

“Are you okay?” he asked, just to keep in character. He didn’t care either way.

“Mm—! Mm-hmm!” she nodded frantically, tears clear in her eyes and hesitant to open her mouth, lest she reveal the actual pain she was in.

Oh, a little tough girl, huh? He could fucking fall in love.

Sukuna kept a serious face, but inside he was splitting in two, smiling.

“You sure? Do you want me to stop?” he insisted. It’s not like he would, even if she wanted to. But the idea of her powering through the pain, begging him to keep going even as he broke her? It was just too good to pass up.

“Y-Yes,” she yelped out in such a sweet, strained voice, “P-Please, keep going Yuji!”

He reached forward, running a hand through her hair, that once perfect little updo now frazzled and ruined with leaves and dirt, “I’ll be gentle, okay?”

She sniffled and put on a brave, quivering smile, nodding. He dragged out of her to the tip, slowly, expertly, pulling from her the first little gasp of pleasure.

Then he bottomed out inside her.

She cried out loudly, nails clinging into his back with vicelock strength as he fucked her, truly fucked her. She tried to make those cries sound pleasured, like moans. But she couldn’t hide the screams they truly were. She pulled him closer so that she could try and muffle them into his shoulder.

But that wouldn’t do. No, that would not fucking do.

The hand in her hair tightened, pulling her head back harshly so that she had nowhere to direct her noise but into the night sky as he pounded into her. She bit her lip, trying to keep them at bay.

“Fuck, it feels so good,” he groaned, genuinely, “What about you, baby? Do you feel good?”

She tried to just get away with nodding and whining.

“Tell me baby,” he pressed, “Tell me it feels good.”

“I-It… It feels good!” she finally cried out, desperate for him to stop, “Y-Yuji, it feels so good!”

He pressed his lips into her cheek, almost cumming on the spot as the streams of tears down her skin touched his tongue.

“I love you so much,” he growled shamelessly.

She smiled a face-splitting smile, eyes wide and puffy, and body completely open and raw, as she tried to love away the pain.

“M-Me too!” she almost gagged, “I love you too!!”

In this life, the previous, or even the next, Sukuna was sure he’d never cum as hard as he did when he saw that face.

Yuji stared down at her in absolute horror. What had he done? No, what had he done?!

His girlfriend, that pure, perfect girl, the one true light of his life, was laid out beneath him, a complete mess. Covered in dirt, hickeys, and a sheen of her own sweat and tears.

Raped.

Her bare chest rose and fell heavily (he could be thankful for that at least), and her cheek rested against the twisting roots of the tree they were under as she tried to catch her breath.

No.

No, no, no, no, no—

Her eyes blinked open as she felt a splash against her flesh, pulling her from her post-sex daze. She turned to look up at Yuji, instantly shocked to see him hunched over her and sobbing uncontrollably.

“Yuji?” she gasped, “Yuji what’s wrong?”

“I… I-I just—” he choked, trying desperately not to throw up. His fingers ran shakily across the divots in her skin, the scratches and bitemarks, “Are you o-okay?”

She followed his stroking hands to her marred shoulders and whipped back to him with a gasp.

“Ohhh, sweetie no— don’t worry about those! I’m fine!”

“A-Are you sure?” he rasped.

“Of course!” she pulled him down into a tight embrace, “I loved it, Yuji.”

Those words stabbed him harder and hotter than anything else she could’ve said. Made it all so much worse.

“I absolutely loved it.”

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auteurdelabre · 5 months

Text

Something to Fight For (Series) Part 19 [JoelMillerxf!reader]

Word Count: 5.6k

Pairing: Dad!Joel Miller x f!reader (no use of y/n, no age or physical descriptions)

Warning: Descriptions of violence, girlie hitting her boiling point

A/N: WE’RE SO CLOSE YA'LL.

MASTERLIST HERE

========================

When you wake up the next morning you expect Joel to be gone. You think it’s because you can’t understand why he would stay. Why stay with you when you’ve told him all your awful secrets?

But Joel is still there beside you overtop the sheets, his clothes rumpled from sleeping in them, his breathing even. He’s curled around you, his large frame warm and comforting. You can’t help but stare at him in sleep, marveling at how his face is slack, the lines lessened, more youthful looking. His lips are pouty in sleep, parted slightly.

Kissing him when he’s asleep would be wrong, despite how much you want to press your mouth to his, so you settle for the tip of his nose. It’s a soft thing, a gentle thing. It stirs him into wakefulness, his voice scratchy from disuse.

“Hey honey.”

Honey.

He’s not thinking clearly, his mind still addled with sleep. He smiles at you from the pillow, eyes still lazy lidded, licking his dried lips.

You're warm, sweaty from his arms around you during the night and the still blazing electric fireplace. It sticks tendrils of hair to your damp temples but you still don't pull back from him.

You stay nestled there, your hand slipping down Joel's forearm, marveling at the strength in those muscles under your fingers. Your hands go to Joel's wrist, raising it and the watch encircled there to your face so you can read the time.

He's smirking at you as he watches this from half-opened eyes, puffy from lack of sleep.

"Weddings in a couple of hours," you mutter softly as you lower his wrist back to its original place draped over your waist. Your hands clasp under your chin as you go back to snuggle against his chest.

"Yeah. Got lots to do," Joel murmurs his voice thick and growly with sleep. His hand strokes your hair softly, reassuringly. The vibration of his deep baritone rumbles through his chest and subsequently through your arms.

Against all odds it makes your thighs tighten. It makes your eyes shutter at his nearness. You swallow lightly, willing yourself not to do it. Not to take this sacred moment between you and Joel and spoil it.

You wonder if you should tell him about Paul or save it for another time. Right now feels rushed, your days so long and stretching ahead of you with the wedding. Mentioning Paul doesn’t seem smart, especially when you haven’t officially broken up with him yet. And even if you do, does that really change everything? Will you not go to Chicago? Will you really turn your back on your family?

And the larger part is that you don’t want Paul’s name in this moment, you don’t want the outside world to break into this bubble of comfort the two of you share.

There is a strange moment where you see yourself outside your body, almost able to envision how you look curled up together. This man that you thought you hated. You pull back to look at his face, at the eyes you can’t stop falling into.

You think back to the day you met. The anger you’d felt at his loud music and it makes you smile, huffing a small laugh. Joel observes this, his own smile curling at the corners.

“What?”

"What were you thinking of that first day?"

"Huh?"

"When you were in your truck," you say, relaxing against him. "The day we met. I remember you looked so lost in thought.”

Joel thinks back to that evening and smiles.

"I was thinkin' it was gonna be a long fucking night." You both laugh. "Tommy was never good at set ups. I was worried about Sarah back at the neighbors. I was exhausted because it had been such a long day at work."

Jesus, you never realized how much went on behind those big brown eyes. You move your gaze to his shoulder, overcome.

"I had my music loud, just trying to clear my head and then over it I hear someone call 'hey'."

You smile, wanting to say 'that was me!' like a child hearing their name in a story.

"And you saw the most annoying woman in the world in the car next to you," you finish for him with a giggle. "And she tells you turn down the music and calls you an asshole and-"

"I look over," Joel interrupts to correct you with a smirk, voice still scratchy. "And I see this woman, so fucking beautiful I forget how to speak."

Your body feels warm and now your eyes drag from his shoulder back to his dark eyes. How is that possible? You think back to that day so many months ago, the look on Joel's face in the truck.? You'd always assumed he'd just been taken aback by your temper.

"Really?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "And I'm thinking how can someone that fucking gorgeous be single. . . and then she starts screaming at me and calling me an asshole and it all makes sense."

The sharp laughter escapes you, sounding out into the quiet of your home. Joel grins widely at your reaction, chuckling and glancing down at your head when you bury your face in his chest, still laughing. Joel considers not continuing, but he's emboldened by your delighted reaction .

"And then it turns out she's my date and that whole night I'm trying not to look at her,” Joel’s voice is soft and dreamy. "Trying not to stare because she's made it very clear how she feels about me back in the parking lot. And I'm rude, trying to cover up for the fact that I can't stop staring at her. That when she talks about what she's does for work she's even more fucking beautiful and I'm getting outta sorts."

Your pulse is ticking the more he speaks, memories flooding you.

"And then I get that call from Sarah's babysitter and I think then Christ, I gotta get away from this woman and now I have a reason. Then a couple weeks go by and I’m tryin’ to forget about her but it’s hard because my brother and her best friend have gone and fallen in love,” Joel smiles. “So I keep running into her at the house and I see her trying to avoid me the best she can. And then I have to go to her fucking office and see her.”

You’re smiling gently, listening intently. Hearing your story from Joel’s perspective is so different from your own, so much more nuanced than you ever could have imagined. There are parts skipped over, details you want to press him on. But you just lay there, eyes darting to his face as he looks dreamily into middle distance.

“And when I see Sarah drawn to her, just like I was I realize I’m fucking powerless. This woman’s got a hold on both of us and I can’t shake her loose, even though she’s told me she wants nothing to do with me.”

You know what he’s referencing. That first day in your office when you had forced yourself to speak to him.

"So I propose that we act like we don't despise one another when we're in their company. Other than that, I see no need for us to act like friends. You don't have to pretend to be interested in my life and I don't have to pretend to be interested in yours."

"So we'll just dislike each other in secret.”

"Exactly.”

You think of the awkward way he walked around your office, the quiet way he observed you and the space you work. His attempt at small talk. All of these things had compiled in your mind as evidence of his distaste for you. But now as he explains it, you can see these moments like snapshots, moments in time where he was trying to reach out to you.

“Then Tommy and Maria mention they wanna go away, but I have a bid meeting. Tommy suggests you, he knows it’s a long shot. And he’s shocked when I agree so readily, and I’m tryin’ to not be obvious but he knew back then. He knew all along I think.”

“I think everyone knew but us,” you muse, thinking of Maria.

“Everyone but you.”

You give a good-natured push of his shoulder before nestling in there again. You want to hear more. You give a little nod of your head, prompting him to keep going. He strokes the hair that’s fallen across your cheek and continues.

“And then one night Tommy mentions this bar and trivia with his girlfriend and her best friend. The one I can’t stop thinking about, the one that I just know despises me. And I ask him if your team could use another player.”

“What?” you prop yourself up on your elbows, your mouth dropping. “Tommy said he dragged you to trivia with us.”

Joel’s ears have gone pink.

“You didn’t notice me tryin’ to flirt with you the whole night? For fucks sake I sat right next to you in the booth. I tried everything to get you to stop hating me. Do you know how good I felt when I got that space question right?”

“Olympus Mons,” you whisper in a giggle. “Mars. I remember.”

“You know how bad I wanted to kiss you?” Joel murmurs, his glittering eyes on your mouth now. “You were there next to me smiling and flushed and you looked so fucking good. It took everything in me not to do it. Can you imagine if I had? You’d have run off screaming.”

“No,” you shake your head. “I wouldn’t have.”

You remember that night, the start of the turn from Joel the annoyance to Joel the handsome brother of Tommy. The night you’d found yourself enjoying his company, the night you’d decided that maybe he wasn’t all bad. You have a feeling if Joel Miller had kissed you in that moment you would have kissed him right back.

“But I told myself that it was just because you were attractive and you were so great with Sarah. Told myself that it was just because you were easy to talk to. Then we went to that sanctuary thing and. . . I felt so nervous, like when you’re a kid with a crush and I just. . . Something changed.”

“It was the first time we felt like a family,” you supply breathlessly. Because that’s how you felt. Walking with Joel and Sarah that day, laughing, the trio of you moving from exhibit to exhibit. That was the first day you’d felt it – that feeling of family, but a family of safety and love.

Joel’s stopped talking, stopped sharing. His eyes are still on your mouth and your head is tilting back to better look at him and it feels so inevitable to collide, to succumb. His hand is on the side of your neck and he's tilting your mouth to his and all you want is him and this moment. All you want is to be in Joel Miller's arms, your mouth on his.

Chicago.

Breaking the engagement.

Selfish.

His mouth hovers near yours, lips straining and almost connecting before you tilt away from him. The moment slips away, like a stone skimming over water before it's submerged. Joel isn't upset, nor angry, but the open need is there. You can see your own reflected in the shining, dark canvas of his eyes.

"I need time Joel" you tell him in a voice you force out of your lungs. "Give me time."

///

It hadn’t even been a question.

Of course he’d give you time, as much of it as you needed. He’s seeing you in a few hours for the wedding, perhaps you’ll have time to talk then? Maybe what happened with you last night will make a difference?

Maybe you’ll end things with Paul.

Maybe.

You sitting on the edge of the bed as Joel pulls on his jacket. Your legs are pulled to your chest, your cheek resting on your knees. Your eyes are troubled, unfocussed. You look as if you’re about to cry.

There’s that tug at his heart. The one he tries to ignore but he he’s already crossing the room, dropping to one knee beside the bed. A hand on your knee, big brown eyes in open understanding and concern.

“Honey?”

You turn and immediately your face relaxes into a smile. You like it when he calls you honey. You like it when he’s near you. Is it really so foolish of him to hope that one day you might love him the way he loves you?

Not if she goes to Chicago.

He can’t follow you there, not permanently. He can’t uproot Sarah from the life and home and family she’s known her entire life. He can’t disrupt her life because he’s so deeply in love with you. His happiness means less than hers. Her comfort means more than his.

“I’m gonna take off,” Joel tells you. “Gotta get ready and bring some stuff to the ranch. I’ll meet you there? Or do you need a ride?”

“I’ve got a ride,” you tell him after a pause, a strange smile on your lips. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you there.”

You stand, taking Joel’s hand in yours as he joins you in walking to the door. He watches the way your eyes go unfocussed again, agitation clear in your features. He’s about to say something when his eyes catch something on your kitchen table.

The engagement ring box.

A thunder in Joel’s chest begins. His eyes dart to your bare left finger and for a moment he feels breathless. Please please please. You open the door and he walks in a daze through the doorframe, pausing when he hears you say his name.

“Thank you for last night,” you say with a sweet look on your face. One that shows how much his presence meant to you. “I don’t. . . I’m so grateful for you. I, I just . . .”

He sees you searching for the words and feels his heart ache for you. There’s so much vulnerability in you right now. It feels wrong to leave you right now. He considers telling you to come with him and get ready at his place.

And then the phone rings. Your cell is buzzing on the table and you go to retrieve it quickly flipping it open. Joel sees your brows saddle as you read the name flashing up at you.

“It’s my Mom,” you say, your eyes wide and fixed on the phone.

Joel says nothing, pausing at the door, waiting. His dark eyes go from your face down to the buzzing phone. You’re just staring at it, unblinking. He wants to force himself back into the suite, hold you while you talk to your Mom. She’s going to ask about Chicago, she’s going guilt you into going.

“You want me to-“

“I gotta take this,” you tell him, your face pinched before you force a terse smile in his direction. “I’ll see you at the wedding. Make sure you trim that beard, Miller. Gotta look respectable.”

He hears you trying to inject levity into your words, but it falls so flat when juxtaposed by the seriousness in your face.

Joel is terrified about what’s going to happen, terrified about what you’re going to say to her. There’s a heaviness in his heart that just knows you’re going to go. That you’re going to be ripped from him and his life so abruptly it could leave a real wound dripping onto the ground below his feet.

And yet he nods. But before you can shut the door on him his face darts back and he presses a kiss to your forehead. A tender, soft thing that has your eyes watering as you watch him leave, his legs scissoring across the lawn to his truck.

///

“Hi Mom.”

“It’s me, sunshine.”

Your father.

Your stomach instantly clenches and you wish you had Joel here. You wish you’d let him stay. You want him holding your hand, soothing you.

“Hi Dad.”

Your eyes clench shut, the hand holding the phone to your ear is trembling.

“You getting ready for the wedding?”

“Uh huh.”

You can hear the sound of a lawn being mowed outside their window. You can picture it now, the narrow little house at the end of the suburban street. Picture perfect from the outside, never suggesting the hint of sinister that lies beyond its doors.

“I bet you look beautiful,” your dad enthuses warmly. “I hope you take lots of pictures.”

And this is what makes it hard, these moments of kindness, of paternal love. These times when you think that perhaps he’s not as awful as you remember. These times when you think that moving to Chicago won’t be so bad.

Except you don’t want to go.

You want to stay here with your job you love, with the people you love.

With Joel.

It’s the memory of his eyes last night, his arms around you that steadies your breath. It gives you a center, a balance as you grip the chair next to you. You’re not going. You’re going to tell him right now.

“I . . . I wanted,” you begin, your voice shaky. “Dad I wanted. . . to uh. . . “

The words won’t come. They’re lodged there in your chest.

“I saw that there’s a sale on flights if we book today,” your dad says, coughing a bit before you can hear the gentle tap of computer keys. “Figured you should get that locked in before it gets pricey. You were planning on next week, right?”

I don’t want to go.

“And I was thinking,” your dad continues. “I know a guy who owns a pet shop out here. Not the same kinda job as where you’re working now, but if you’re living here with your mom and me you only have to chip in a bit for rent. Not even that much.”

I don’t want to go.

“Your mom and I are so glad you’re coming back. Gonna make a big difference having you here. We’re really gonna have a chance.”

“Dad. . . I uh. . . “

He hears the hesitancy in your voice. You can almost hear how his tone shifts, moving from sweet and clear to syrupy, almost saccharine.

“I just don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t here.”

It’s over before it’s begun. Images of Joel and Sarah and you in Rancher Lane disappear before your eyes. You know you will relent; you will back down and you feel the tears sliding down your face at the realization.

“Okay dad. I’ll get the ticket.”

You hear the faint sound of your mother calling his name in the background of the phone’s static.

“Oop, your Mom’s calling me for breakfast,” your father says, sounding chipper. “Better go. Tell Maria and Tommy we’re so happy for them. I think your Mom mailed out a card yesterday so it should be arriving soon.”

“Thanks. I will.”

///

Sarah is excited for the wedding. Mostly because she gets to see you and Daddy walking down the aisle again. But Uncle Tommy is here, pouring Alphabits cereal and not the pancakes she was promised by Daddy yesterday.

“Where is Daddy?”

“He had to run an errand,” Uncle Tommy promises with a strained smile. He’s drinking coffee, looking at his watch.

Sarah twists the hem of her polar bear pajamas feeling unsettled. Uncle Tommy looks concerned. And if he’s concerned-

“Sorry!”

She hears her father’s voice as the door unlocks and turns in her chair to see him breathlessly making his way into the kitchen. He looks sleepy, his clothes wrinkled. He moves to Sarah, hand on the back of her chair.

“Mornin’ babygirl,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her head before looking to his brother.

“Took you long enough,” Tommy chides but in a way that feels playful. Daddy is smiling at the two of them, a sweet little smile that makes him look bashful.

“I’m so sorry Tom.”

“Everything okay?”

Joel is still sorta smiling when he shrugs. “Dunno.”

“But she knows.”

“Yeah.”

Tommy is smiling broadly and Sarah is confused at what they’re talking about. She goes back to her cereal, trying to see if she can make any words with the floating letters swimming in the milk.

///

Maria is your closest friend so you’ll never tell her how ugly the bridesmaid dress is that she picked for the bridal party. A sea foam green chiffon and tulle number that makes you look like a sad bit of lettuce left out on the counter. And why are there so many fucking bows?

You shake your head, thankful that at least your hair seems to behaving, and the makeup you’ve put on to cover your swollen eyes and blotchy face seems to be covering well. As you put on a second coat of mascara you wish your eyes didn’t look so sad.

There’s a knock at your door and you open it to a freshly shaved Paul. He’s wearing his dark charcoal suit looking very handsome. He gives you a broad smile, about to make his way inside and for some reason it reminds you of your father. Forced cheer to overcompensate for their terrible fucking treatment of you.

“You look gorgeous. Hey I need advice on what tie to wear today,” he says pulling out two ties from his jacket pockets. “Whadda ya think black or cream?”

He makes a motion to step into the suite but you don’t move from the front door. You hold your hand up, stopping him from entering into the space.

You’re so tired of being a fucking pushover.

You’re so tired of being forced into what you don’t want.

You march to the table; grabbing the velvet box and moving swiftly back to the front door before Paul can enter. He looks at you confused, taking the box from you as you shove it into his hands.

"Paul, I'm sorry but I can't do this."

Paul looks at the velvet box and the bare ring finger and realizes right away. He's always had an ability to play to your emotions, to twist his gaze in a way that makes you feel incredibly guilty. He's doing it right now.

"Baby, no."

He tries again to come inside, but stops when your hand again raises outstretched, palm in his direction.

"I'm so sorry," you say with authenticity. "I can't be with you."

"It's this because of the rehearsal?" Paul scoffs. "Just gimme a-"

“No Paul,” you say firmly. “This is because I need this to be done. To be over.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not in love with you. I’m so sorry to say it, but it’s true. And I don’t think you’re in love with me either.” You give him a sad sigh, feeling so awful. “I think we both just ran back to something familiar and safe. But that’s not a valid reason to be together.”

“This is cold feet,” Paul insists, not wanting to hear the alternative.

“Paul I didn’t even want people knowing we were engaged,” you say beseechingly. “Doesn’t that just say it all?”

Paul’s handsome face is twisting. Moving from an indulgent smile as the mask slips and he glares at you. One of his hands goes to brace itself on the doorframe, his neck tilting forward.

“This is because of him, isn’t it?”

You’re quiet. You both know the him he’s referring to.

“You're gonna go play house with that fucking animal? Is that it?"

You don't reply. You don't know that it is Joel. You don't know if your life will take you to Chicago and away from him. All you do know is that your future isn't Paul.

"We can't give each other what we need." You kneel, grabbing the cardboard box beside the door with the rest of his things. "Here. I can come grab my stuff from your place tomorrow."

Paul looks down at the box in your hand, sees how easily his life is to pack up and dispose of for you.

"You just wanna fuck him," Paul insists, cheeks reddening. "It's the truth isn't it? It's why you're there all the time trying to bond with his kid?"

For a really awful moment you wonder if that's how outside people see it. If everyone sees you babysitting and spending time with Sarah as a means to getting her father into bed. This hurts worse than most anything Paul has said because for a horrible self conscious moment you genuinely wonder if that's the truth.

"So go on. Do it," Paul insists. "Get it out if your system and then we can leave this fucking city and start over."

You stare at your ex fiancé for a long moment, trying to understand why you thought him worth pursuing. Why you put all your faith in this man who you realize now is so much like your fucking father. Manipulative, cruel.

"If I can't make it with you, what else is there?" Paul blinks. "You're all I have left."

You wonder if Paul thinks this is a romantic notion. That it will speak to your heart instead of sickening you.

"If it weren't for Joel-"

"Stop trying to blame everything on Joel," you defend, feeling your hackles raise. "We were smart to break up before. The relationship had reached its natural conclusion. We aren't well matched."

"Relationships take work," Paul defends, looking at you beseechingly. "You've said that!"

"Only if both people want it," you tell him. "And I don't. I don’t want this life."

Paul looks desperate then. The sign of a caged animal who has just realized there is no escape. There is no way for him to talk himself out of this. He can see it in your eyes, the lack of emotion, the way you just know what he’s trying to do.

You follow him as he moves back from your door, his hand on the cardboard box of his belongings. You stand on your doorstep, closing the door tightly behind you. You have no wish for Paul to try and rush in there, to try and force you to get back with him. You’re over all of it.

He’s down one step when something in him bristles and he drops the box. He turns, looking at you with such disgust and anger that you actually recoil.

"You're so worried you're selfish like you're dad?” Paul sneers. “Well congrats, you are him. Fucking up a good thing because of what just you want."

There it is.

That secret sentence to unlock all your fears and insecurities. That observation of your worst self brought to light. And Paul knows it- he sees it in the way you blink and step back. In the blanching of your face and widening eyes.

"You know I'm right," Paul hisses "Even if you and Joel get together it's just a matter of if time before you fuck it up. He'll want one thing, you'll want the other and it'll be us all over again. Except Joel doesn't love you like I do. Because when you leave he won't come back."

There is serenity in your smile, a quiet power that shocks Paul when he sees it.

"I'd never leave Joel."

You're not expecting the shove because Paul has never been violent before. So when jerks forward to grip you by the front of your dress and shove you back against the door you're shocked into silence.

"That's how you like it right?" Paul sneers, Slamming your spine against the wood. "You must like it rough with that fucking caveman. Don't think he's capable of anything else."

His hand is at your windpipe, pressing you against your front door.

"Must be getting real wet now," Paul sneers. "Bet you love it when Joel manhandles you."

No, you think. Joel would never hurt you. Joel would never lay an unkind finger on your body.

"Stop," you cry out, trying your best to push him from you. But Paul has always been stronger than you and he holds you by the throat, pulling you forward and slamming you backwards.

Your vision blurs at the impact and if you weren't pinned to the door you'd double over. As it is you can only moan and lower your head, defeated.

"You ruined everything you selfish fucking cunt," Paul shouts in your face and all you can hear is the words of so many raining down on you.

Least selfish person I know.

That's what you do when you love someone

You can’t sacrifice everything

Run

I'm a horrible selfish person.

That's what you do when you love someone

Run

Let me take care of you.

Is that being selfish? I think you might be fucking insane.

That's what you do when you love someone

Something inside you snaps.

You bring your face up sharply, catching his jaw with the back of your skull and sending him reeling back. He trips over the step, sending him flying onto his back.

You don't even think. Even as your head pounds you just pounce on top of him, your hands curled into fists as you begin to pummel him.

He's shouting, but all you can see is the blood from his broken nose, the fury in his eyes. And you stop when you hear a high pitched wailing and realize that it’s you.

But Paul has you by the throat again, shaking you, and you think back to all those nights with you crying over your dad to stop drinking and wishing for escape you want to cry at how some things never fucking change because here you are years later crying and wishing for escape.

And then a voice booms, truly booms from your right.

"Enough!"

Your attention is on the broad man behind Paul. The man wearing a black suit and tie. The man who is marching over the grass looking angrier than you've ever seen him.

Paul drops your throat and you fall to your knees in the grass catching your breath. He turns to face the wall of a man streaking towards him.

"Bill?"

Frank wanders out onto the porch, oblivious as he straightens his bowtie. He hears your voice and looks over just in time to see Bill rear back before dealing a devastating blow to Paul's face.

Paul drops to the ground like a sack of potatoes. You realize now that Joel had been holding back in that McDonald's but Bill isn't today.

"Laying hands on a woman?" Bill growls, spittle wetting his lips. Another blow to Paul's jaw. "You worthless fucking -"

Frank is there, shouting at his husband to stop while he brings you shaking into his arms.

"Stop," you insist, pulling at Bill's shoulder. You don't want him to kill Paul (well, maybe you do) but this isn't his fight to win.

"Get off me!" Paul gurgles a hateful slur through a mouthful of blood.

You look at him with horror, the hideousness of his words and when Frank is the one who jolts forward to punch Paul with a snapping crack you simply watch in approving silence. The two men in suits step back, breathing heavily.

Paul is scrambling to a stand, wiping the blood from his face with the back of his hands. Your entire body is thrumming with adrenaline and terror at the sight.

"I'm gonna go to the cops," Paul shouts. You can see from here that one of his teeth at the front is chipped. Bye bye perfect smile.

"I'll tell them it was all me," you say with a grim look. "And I'll tell them it was because you attacked me. You fucking attacked me, Paul. That’s the truth."

Paul gapes at you. You think it’s just hit him that he actually assaulted you.

"Fucking-"

"Save it," you reply wheezing. The box of his belongings is still there in the grass. You heft it before slamming it into his chest. "Don't ever come back here again. If I see a fucking hint that you’ve been around I will call the cops and tell them everything you did to me."

Paul stares at you for a moment, taking in the sight. You realize it’s because he’s never seen this version of you, the real you. He’s about to turn, about to when your hand jerks out to grip his arm, stopping him.

“And give me back my fucking car keys. Now.”

Paul looks like he’s about to decline when you see Bill step forward in your peripheral. Frank murmurs something, trying to hold him back. Then Paul is muttering every name in the book as he digs into his pocket. He throws the keys at you, spitting globs of pink saliva in your direction as he marches away down the street.

“Are you okay to drive?” Frank asks looking at your wild grass-filled hair as you bend to pick up the keys. You give a crooked smile, nodding. You look down, thankful that a few grass stains are on the dress, nothing a tide stick can’t fix.

“I’ll see you at the wedding.”

Bill and Frank watch as you march down to the car parked in your driveway. Your car. You throw yourself into the vehicle, your feet still bare. You turn over the engine, thankful that Paul at least had it a quarter tank.

But you need to do one more thing. Because its all so fucking obvious. All so fucking easy. A million decisions that seemed so impossible have suddenly become crystal clear in clarity.

You rush back into the house, past Frank who is trying to smooth Bill’s hair and Bill who is trying to fix Frank’s bow tie. You slip into your heels, grab your purse and dial the number on your cell phone.

The cell is anchored between your ear and shoulder as it rings and you walk out into the sunshine. Frank and Bill have disappeared, likely to go and change into suits that don’t have bloodstains.

“Hello?”

A pit in your stomach forms

“Dad?”

“Hey sunshine, you got the tick-“

“No,” you say, your heart jumping as you spin the wheel, twisting out of the driveway.

“Oh, it didn’t go through?”

“No, I’m not buying the ticket,” you say clearly, no hesitation to be found. “And I’m not coming home. Not for a long time. Maybe not ever. I dunno, I’ll have to see how I feel.”

Your dad is confused, his breathing unsteady. But you know this is part of it, part of the garner of sympathy. But you’re not falling for it.

“But su-“

“No dad,” you snap. "I'm not coming home."

"This doesn't sound like you," your father offers after a beat. You can hear the tension creeping into his voice. "Maybe if you spoke to your Mother-"

"I need a break actually, from both of you," you say, and now a bit of guilt forms. "When I feel ready, I'll reach out to mom. But I need to see if I want a relationship with you, Dad.”

You’re voice is so strong, so steady. It belies the rapidly beating heart in your chest. You hear the turn as if you’re seeing it. The downward slash of your father’s thin lips.

“That’s such a selfish attitude and I-“

“No dad,” you interrupt, almost laughing because you’ve been holding this forever. Holding onto a life that doesn’t exist and a father that died when you were fifteen on the way to the hospital. You think of Joel and how he looks at Sarah, how he loves her and takes care of her and cherishes her. Because there are dad's like that exist in the world. Good fathers who would sacrifice everything for their children. It gives you the strength to say the things you've been holding back.

“I’m not being selfish. Selfish is choosing drugs over your family. Selfish is guilting your daughter into giving up her dreams and her life so you can fuck up yours. For once in your life you stop being a selfish.”

And then the phone is turned off. It’s shoved into your purse as you make your way across the lawn to your car.

And for the first time in your life, you're not running away from something.

You're running towards it.

#fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #fanfic #smut #pedro pascal #dad joel miller

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tarjapearce · 8 months

Note

Hi hi! Thank you for letting me go ahead and send it through! I didn’t want to overwhelm you, that’s absolutely fine still take your time and keep taking those breaks mamas!

I’ve seen a lot of single dilf Miguel x reader but I don’t think I’ve ever read where reader was a single parent. So I was thinking reader is new to spider society and on the day she’s told to join she has to bring her baby because she didn’t have a babysitter. Well Miguel sees her and it’s like he’s instantly drawn to her like sunflowers are to the sun, sunflowers move where the sun goes and when the sun doesn’t shine they face each other (She’s kinda like his day and night if that makes sense) but instead of acting on it he dismisses her but kinda admires her and her baby from a distance.

Well one day she’s having a small part for the main group and she invited Miguel because she always felt the feelings but also dismissed them. Then after the party he stays to help and the end up getting closer and yeah. It can be nsfw I don’t mind, I also hope this makes sense it’s been in my mind for a while and you’d be so good for this!

The rest is all up to you if you decide to write it pretty girl. Just remember to take your time and all the breaks you need. Mental, physical, and emotional health is important don’t overwork yourself 💕

Im so sorry this taken me soo long. Hope this make it justice 😊❤️. Thanks for requesting dear.

If it wasn't for the webs that stopped Rhino as he was about to deliver the last blow to you, you'd be certainly gravely injured or worse.

Another Spiderwoman, clad in a red, yellow and black suit had helped you through. Both of your minds in sync, that soon earned you the win over a now unconscious Rhino.

She introduced herself as Jessica Drew. Another Spiderwoman from another universe. At first her explanation of what the Arachnohumanoid-Polymultiverse was, had your head spinning and confused, but after quite a while of visiting you on duty, and clearing up as much questions you needed, you had been officially 'invited' to join, by Miguel’s orders.

You've never met the man, but the way people talked about him, made you not only curious but excited to meet him. Everyone described him as a good yet scary boss.

----

"Let's go"

"Hope you don't mind?" Your nervous smile reached Jess as you packed in your child's stuff in the baby sling. A couple of diapers, extra clothes and bottles.

"Look at this beautiful boy" Jessica held him as you finished packing up stuff, "Didn't know you had one"

"Oh, well. You never asked. Plus we always met on duty. The babysitter I get for him called in sick and I have none as a back up. Hope Miguel doesn't mind."

"What about his dad?"

Your head shook softly and sighed.

"He decided to not be part of our lives."

Jessica just nodded, lips pursing.

"His loss, really. Anyways, ready to go?"

------

Not even in your wildest dreams you'd imagine something as The Babylon Tower or HQ as most Spiders called it, could exist. Different sort of Spiders paraded around and greeted Jess upon her arrival.

Some even greeted your toddler that cooed and giggled upon the many heroes that came his way.

"Let's get you to Miguel." Jess walked ahead and you followed, you baby's eyes wandered, marveling at the different colors and people. You'd sometimes make hamocs and web playgrounds for him to be more active. Your babysitter was the only person you could actually trust your identity, she had even helped you sometimes by calling the cops, or even fixing your suit.

Another man in a pink bathrobe approached and gasped at your baby

"Please tell me we're getting a Spider Parents exclusive division now."

You chuckled and Jess just rolled her eyes

"Sweetie, this is Peter."

"As in Peter Parker?"

"Nah. As in Peter Benjamin 'B' Parker."

"Oh... And whose that cutie over there?" Your eyes trailed to Mayday as she beamed at you.

"Mayday. A lil spider in growth"

"She has spider powers?! Oh my goodness!"

"It's chaos, I know. What about yours?"

"Normal baby so far. Should I be concerned?"

"Not really, it comes in the least unexpected moment and them BAM! Spider baby. "

You giggled as you made your way through the halls to a much more secluded and dark area.

"Miguel?"

Your baby couldn't help but babble as a hulking figure approached from the furthest corner.

"He's so dramatic" Peter whispered and again, you giggled under your mouth.

Jess introduced you both and explained your progress to him. Apparently they had been observing you for quite the time.

" I apologize for bringing my child. My babysitter called in sick."

"No problem."

Even though his voice was calm, the coldness in it made you recoil to yourself. His scrutinizing gaze fixed on you and your baby. By instinct you held him close.

Red eyes settled on yours, but the subtle stare contest was interrupted by the anomaly alarm.

-----

As your time in the Spider Society advanced, your interactions with Miguel improved significantly, and by that it'd mean longer conversations, a joke here and there and of course moments so subtle between you both that you had to be quite analytical to know that he gave glances your way or lean to you slightly whenever speaking to him.

Not that you were inmune to his looks, but his patience stood proudly among his other virtues. And to your surprise he seemed to handle Mayday well enough. What actually made you to be drawn to him is that in one of your many occasions that you couldn't leave your baby boy alone, and brought him into HQ with you, he'd be instantly looking for Miguel.

Your cheeks would flush impossibly red as your baby clung to his leg and erupted in a bubbly laughter.

"God, I'm so so sorry, he just... seem to like the blue alot."

An airy chuckle was everything that escaped his lips. Of course there was so many questions he'd want to do out of curiosity. He had noticed you didn't wear a ring, neither talked about the baby's father. It was something he never seemed to coax out of you. No matter how subtle he was about it.

Pa pa

You both froze as your baby mumbled and grabbed a few strands of his hair.

"I'm so sorry..." You pried the baby away from him and fled the place as soon as you could. He just watched you leave, the inner turmoil in his heart was surely playing dirty. The way the baby had clung to him, and climbed ontop of his chest made his heart to leap after a long long while.

-----

You had been avoiding him, for sure. Ever since your little incident with the baby mumbling his first words, you had taken your distance with him. Of course you weren't ready for your baby's actions, but the fear of going through all that again, had surely dismissed all possible blooming feelings you had for your boss. Besides he seemed way too busy and aloof to try and pursue anything with anyone.

Not that you blamed him, the multiverse depended basically on him. It was for the best.

----

The moment you were falling asleep, your Spider senses tingled so hard you had a little headache coming your way.

Dread settled on your brain as your baby boy screamed and wailed.

No No No!

You were already darting towards his room, and pulled him with one of your webs towards you, holding onto him for dear life as the creature shredded his crib to bits with its elongated talons.

Your eyes went wide at the sudden action, your baby kept wailing in fear, earning the humanoid like creature to snap it's attention to you. You were fast, but the creature was faster and sliced through your flesh in one of your sides. You fell on your back protecting your son from the impact with a groan.

You needed to get out, or at least put your baby out of danger.

Survival mode kicked in as you dodged and took as much damage as you could from the creature that seemed way too keen into hurting your child.

You fought but exhaustion was taking over, the blows of the creature only seemed harder and powerful, but no matter what your priority was to keep your child safe, even if it costed your life.

The creature pounced on you, but the final blow never came. There was a commotion as you tried to get up, all you could hear was inhuman shrieks, growlings and finally the engine of a too familiar motorcycle revving up.

Your baby was pried away from your hands and you whimpered

"N-No!" even in your injured state, your mother instinct kicked in.

Your name was called, several times until you were held against a sturdy yet warm body with such care and tenderness that stilled your thrashing body. Vision blurred, but the last thing you saw the led lights of a blue and red suit, red eyes staring at you with concern.

-----

You woke up in HQ's medical bay. Pain surging through your body as you tried to sit down, Miguel's hand stopped you. Face with his ever permanent frown and something else. Worry.

"Where's... Where's my baby?"

"He's fine. Out of danger." His hands reached for a new set of bandages, he took your arm gently and began replacing the bandages himself, some were stained in a fresh layer of blood.

The silence fell upon you both until he decided to break it.

"You... were brave. We still don't know what that creature was, yet you didn't hesitate to fight back."

"It was going for my son... If I would've got there a second too late..." Voice broke and eyes filled up with tears.

The knot only tightened around his throat upon remembering the anomaly alarm in your world and saw you fighting for your son's life. He didn't think twice before jumping into action.

"The anomaly was terminated."

Terminated, not contained.

"I see"

"Your safety is all that matters to... this organization"

To me

You nodded

"Thanks."

----

He had learned that you were a single parent thanks to Jessica. Something he had trouble understanding sometimes. How could a man abandon his own family? He'd give everything to have one more chance and at least make things right, he wouldn't interfere with Gabriella, no matter how much he'd like to, just to keep her safe and alive.

But seeing you fighting for your son, made that side of him he thought buried forever to claw back full force on him. You were a great mother that wouldn't hesitate to attack and lash out at everything that menaced your son. It was the last straw for him.

----

A couple of months had gone by since your incident, and as a retribution you had decided to do a small gathering. Not only to say thanks to them, but to also celebrate your son's birthday.

Wounds were properly healed thanks to Miguel's attention and cares. Music echoed through your apartment. You weren't sure he'd show up, but the invitation was delivered to him.

Your son was having the time of his life as Peter and Jess played with him. Mayday was such a great play date and everyone seemed to have a great time. A portal was open to your kitchen and Miguel stepped out. Suit underneath civilian clothes. It was weird to see him out of the blue and red suit you were always used to see.

"Hey" You smiled and he placed a little present in your hands.

"Hope he likes it."

"I'm sure he will, thanks."

Your smile turned bashful as he leaned on the kitchen counter. Your place seemed normal, cozy even. Full with your son and you pictures. One was cut out and the only trace of a man existing in your life was the forgotten hand you were oblivious in cutting out. And even so, he seemed unsure since his fingers were barely touching you or your son.

"Here." You offered a plate full of food, which he took and scarfed down.

"When was the last time you actually ate?"

His eyes locked on yours, wide by the sudden question.

"There is more if you want to."

"I don't want to overstep-"

"The rest already had their portion. And I frankly went a bit overboard with it. So it's fine."

Your baby's laughter roared from the other side, earning you a chuckle.

"I'm... sorry though"

"For?"

"Him, calling you that. I know what happened and I'm sure it's not nice to just-"

"Couldn't blame a baby. Is it... ok for me to ask what happened to the father?"

"He just decided that we weren't enough for him. So he went for a new one. Away from us."

His eyebrows knit deeper and a light scowl drew in his face.

"But, it's fine. It's less of a burden knowing that you don't have to raise another man child."

He chuckled and nodded

"You're a great mother." You served him another plate but stopped when the corner of his mouth was doused in sauce. Giggling you reached for napkin and got in your tip toes.

"Excuse me" You wiped his mouth and smiled, "Sorry, can't help it"

His hand went to the back of your nape and leaned down for a kiss.

"Lo siento..." (Im sorry)

It was something that felt out of his character, he knew much, but it couldn't be helped. You had come like a little storm that turned into a hurricane in his heart. And that harrowing night where he saw you fighting with everything you had, only grounded him into allowing himself to feel and experience for once.

You got in your tip toes again and pulled him down for a kiss. There was no words needed, just a look of mutual understanding and complicity between the both. A kiss in the palm of your hand sealed up the implicit deal.

You were his now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #Spider person reader #t writes✨#miguel o'hara imagine #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fluff #atsv angst #miguel atsv

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