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m0llygunn · 10 months

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It Gets Worse (Eddie Munson x fem!reader)

Part 2 to Same Old Song and Dance

Summary: As the rhythm of your never ending dance with Eddie speeds up, things change, but is it really for the worse?

Tropes: bully!eddie (kind of), mean!eddie (not rlly tho), enemies to lovers Warnings: 18+, mature language, pet names (princess), oral (male receiving), smut. Authors Notes: thank you to everyone who reblogged/interacted with the first part!! it was the second thing I ever posted on here so it was very cool for me. I hope you like part 2. Part 3 soon! wc: 6.2k

tags: @needylilgal022 @tlclick73

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“It was a poor lapse in judgment. That’s all. If he’s suddenly nicer to me, good. If he stays his same undignified self, fine.” You say, scribbling down the notes you missed.

You were ‘sick’ yesterday. After what happened with Eddie, you had to be.

“I think you’re missing one more option there.” Nancy says, eyebrows turned up in concern.

“I’m not.” You shrug.

“You are.” She persists.

“Fine, Nance. What am I missing?” You say, putting your pencil down and giving her your full attention.

“He gets worse.”

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie left your house pretty quickly after it all went down. Probably desperate to get home and ‘rub one out’ as he so eloquently put it.

You were fine after he left, still riding the post orgasm high.

It was only after you sat down, taking out your school work, that the worksheet from Mrs. Ward's class knocked you back down to earth.

You let Eddie Munson, the boy who has terrorized you since elementary school, finger you. And the worst part, it was good. Great, even.

So naturally, you were sick the next day. You enjoyed yourself an Eddie Munson free day from the safety of your bed.

Around 7 that night, Nancy called you telling you that Eddie was asking where you were at school. And of course, Nancy with her inquisitive— and extremely persuasive mind, got you to spill your guts. She knows all about your ongoing hostility with Eddie, but for some reason, what happened between you two didn’t surprise her in the slightest.

In exchange for the gory details of your afternoon with Eddie, she agreed to meet you on the bleachers before school started to borrow her notes.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Eddie sauntered into class as if he wasn’t late. He wasn’t phased as Mrs. Ward scolded him. With a muttered ‘Sorry’, he stepped into the classroom, eyes narrowed on you, with a buzzing excitement coursing through his veins and an extra pep in his step.

You had managed to avoid Eddie the whole day up until now.

His eyes burned into you from the minute he appeared in the doorway. The only thing you could do was sit up straighter and pretend like you couldn’t see him.

Even as he purposefully passed in front of your desk, knocking his fist on the surface as he rounded to his own seat, you pretended he was nothing but a pesky house fly that just barely got on your nerves with its ceaseless buzzing.

When a note landed on your desk only minutes after his arrival, you took your time opening it.

‘Where were you?’ was scribbled out in red ink. It didn’t deserve your response.

Instead, you gathered your hair in your hands, swirling it around your fingers, tying it into a tight bun at the base of your neck. Pulling out a few pieces of hair to frame your face, careful to make sure no strands were inherently ‘pullable'.

When Mrs. Ward dedicates the remaining portion of class to working with your partners, you close your eyes inhaling deeply before turning.

“Why were you asking Nancy where I was yesterday? Are you, like, obsessed with me now?” You say, beating Eddie to the chase. His eyes open wide, mouth dropping slightly, as his cheeks tinge pink.

“No.” He says quietly, eyes dropping to his desk where his notebook lays blank, page ripped in half from the note he threw at you.

“So what then?” You snap.

He shrugs.

You weren’t expecting him to give up just like that. You jumped the gun on an unexpecting target. The dance is only fun with two people.

Silence between you two, you set your worksheet down on his desk, swiveling your body to face him.

As you cross your legs under his desk, your foot rubs his shin and he doesn’t even make any of his usual stupid comments. He doesn’t even look up.

So you do it again. And again. You let your foot trail up from his ankle all the way to his calf as you scribble ideas down on your worksheet.

When you hook your foot around his leg you’re surprised when you feel fingers grip your bare ankle.

“Fucking quit it.” He hisses, lifting your leg higher until your knee hits the bottom of his desk in a thud.

“Eddie. I’m wearing a skirt. Let. Go.” You snap, trying to break his grip.

“Oh, but I thought you liked attention?” He scoffs, eyes set on you harshly.

“Let. Go.” You repeat, kicking your leg trying to free yourself but his grip only gets stronger.

“You like attention so much, princess, that your giant ego just assumed I was obsessed with you, huh?” He says, amusement rising in his blazen eyes as he watches the way your brows pinch.

You kick your leg again and his grip becomes impossibly tight, his fingertips nearly bruising into your skin.

“You’re hurting me, Eddie.” You hiss, your voice gaining the attention of a few surrounding students.

His grip loosens immediately, dropping your ankle from his hand, and he makes fast work of kicking his chair back and standing from the desk.

Mrs. Ward yells after him as he leaves the class but he doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even look back.

You don’t go after him and he doesn’t return to class either. The bell rings and you pack up your stuff, eyes flickering to the door waiting for him to come back for his notebook. He doesn’t though, so you close the notebook, stacking it on top of your own books before exiting the class.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You weren’t going to actively seek him out to give him his notebook back. You were just going to hand it to him in passing. The only issue is, you haven’t seen him.

“Hey. Your name's Gareth, right?” You say, walking up to the boy as he closes his locker.

“Yeah.” He says, smirking as he looks at you.

“Oh, I’m-”

“We know who you are.” Another boy, who you think is named Jeff, says from the other side of Gareth.

“Eddie’s not around. Was pretty pissed off, actually. Something to do with you, I’m assuming?” Gareth says, brows lifting as he awaits your response.

“Why would it be because of me? He’s the one with the problem.” You scoff, furrowing your brows angrily. Gareth's smirk drops immediately, turning timid under your fire.

“Hey, hey. Sorry. We just hear about you all the time, it’s exhaust—”

“Gareth.” Jeff cuts him off, shooting him a look.

“Dude, c’mon.” Gareth says to Jeff. Jeff shoots him another pointed look before they start silently communicating with each other through looks.

“Where is he?” You huff, getting annoyed.

“Your guess is as good as ours.” Gareth says with a shrug.

“Thanks.” You scoff, spinning on your feet, mad at yourself for even bothering to try and find Eddie.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The notebook’s been taunting you all day, especially now as you sit in your room trying to get your homework done. There it is peeking out from your bag.

Giving into temptation, you grab the book, taking it to your bed.

Flipping open the first page, it’s just doodles. Flipping another page, more doodles, another page, even more doodles.

Skipping a few pages you finally find some scribbled messy writing that you can just barely make out. Something about someone named mage? Something about… a dwarf?

You skip more pages and it’s the same nonsensical writing with something about a sorcerer until it clicks. You find a page titled hellfire and you realize it has to be that nerdy fantasy game he plays with his little friends.

You quickly get bored. You were hoping for something juicy, something that would provide you with ammunition against him. It’s mostly just a lot of drawings of tits and weird looking demon-y things.

You slide the notebook under your pillow before going back to your homework.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A knock at your window startles you, heart pounding rapidly against your ribs. When you see eyes through the gap in the curtain your heart nearly stops until you recognize them. Then your heart speeds up again.

You go back to reading your book, kicking your legs back and forth behind you.

He knocks again and you wave. He points to the lock and you shrug, going back to your book, trying to hide the smile tugging at your lips.

A third knock. It’s much more aggressive and shakes the shutters making you jump. If your dad was actually home, that would have woken him but he’s not. It’s just you and you know Eddie knows it too because of the empty driveway.

“Jesus Christ.” You mutter to yourself, pushing off your bed.

You unlock the window and he’s quickly pushing it open.

“Notebook.” He says flatly, holding his hand out.

“Notebook?” You question innocently.

“Notebook.” He repeats harshly, making you clench your jaw. Who does he think he is, coming to your house and talking to you like that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say, turning around and going back to laying on your stomach with your book.

“You have my notebook.” He states, still perching outside.

“Why would I have your stupid notebook?” You sneer, rolling your eyes.

“You have it.” He sighs, pushing the window open as wide as it can go.

“I don’t even see why you would need it at this hour, I never took you as a studier.” You say indifferently, flipping the page of your book.

You watch out of your periphery as he crawls through your window seamlessly, landing gently on the carpeted floor.

“Shoes off.” You say but he ignores you, stepping further into the room. “Eddie, I said shoes off.” You repeat more sternly. He mumbles something that you don’t quite catch before he’s kicking off his shoes.

He moves to the side of the bed, standing with his arms crossed, fingers tapping on his forearm. He exhales through his nose in an almost growl and you happily keep your attention on your book as you get him all worked up.

“Princess, I know you have it, just hand it over so I can go.” He snarls.

“No.” You say stubbornly, eyes still glued to the pages of your book.

You see him turn, head darting around the room before landing on your bag next to your desk. He swiftly moves to the bag, picking it up, and before you have time to protest, he’s dumping the contents on the floor.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” You hiss, throwing your book to the side and jumping up from your bed.

He uses his foot to push around your bag’s contents before giving up since it’s not there. You lower to your knees, picking up your stuff hastily and putting it back in your bag.

You can feel Eddie’s eyes on you as you gather your things and you're waiting for a snide remark, you know it’s coming.

“You look pretty on your knees like that, princess.” He says, voice low making your stomach squeeze.

You look up at him with furrowed brows, and his eyes are set on you, looking down the slope of his nose, watching intently.

“Perv.” You scoff.

“Careful, princess. I wasn’t the one throwing myself at you in class today.” He says, laughing meanly.

“I wasn’t doing that.” You retort, feeling your cheeks burn hot. You focus your attention on fitting some loose pages back in your folder that he scattered everywhere.

“So what were you doing then?” He says amusedly.

“I wasn’t doing anything.” You shrug your shoulders trying your best to hold onto your attitude.

“C’mon, princess. Don’t play dumb, I’m not into bimbos.” He scoffs, his familiar teasing tone slowly coming back and you do your best to hide your excitement at the prospect of Eddie rejoining this little thing you two do.

You pause your actions before flickering your gaze to him, looking up through your eyelashes as you sit a little taller.

“So what are you into then?” You question, your voice barely above a whisper, purposefully breathy. His eyes connect with yours before dropping lower, licking his lips in the process.

“Pretty girls on their knees for me.” He smirks, his freshly wet lips glistening, looking all too inviting and it almost makes you squirm.

“I’m only on my knees cause you’re a dick.” You mumble under your breath, zipping up your bag.

“Cause my dick- what, sweetheart?” He laughs.

“You are a dick.” You say louder, clenching your jaw at his stupid excuse of a joke.

“C’mon, princess. Lighten up.” He says, stepping forward. You lean back, his crotch being way too close to you, but then he drops, crouching to your level, his face only inches from yours.

You pause, waiting to see what he’s doing, but he just looks at you. His eyes are unmeeting of your own, choosing to flutter over your features before bringing a hand to your face, pushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“Notebook, princess.” He sings softly, reminding you why he’s here.

“It’s at school.” You lie, raising your brows challengingly.

“No it’s not.” He says confidently.

“Yes, it is.” You argue, furrowing your brows at him.

“No, it’s not, princess.” He sighs and you feel his breath fan over your lips. It takes everything in you not to look.

“Eddie, how the fuck would you know?” You seethe, getting frustrated. You’re supposed to be leading this game, you’re the one on your knees.

“Cause I looked in your locker. I know it’s not in there.” He says coolly, unaffected.

“How- What do you mean, you looked in my locker?” You say bewildered, fists clenching at your side.

“I know it’s not in there, so it must be somewhere in here.” He says, ignoring your question, gaze moving around your room before settling back on you. He winks before standing, his crotch appearing directly in your face until he spins on his heels walking towards your bookshelf. “Gonna make me tear apart your pretty room looking for it, princess?” He taunts, starting to pull out books from the shelf at random.

“It’s not there.” You say firmly.

“Well maybe I’ll take a look just to be sure. Especially since we both know that you like to lie.” He says, shifting around trinkets on the top shelf.

“I don’t lie.” You huff but he ignores you, continuing to poke and prod at your things.

“Oh look, princess has a princess.” He teases, lifting up a ceramic ornament your dad gave you for your fifth birthday.

“If you break that I’ll kick your ass.” You threaten, standing up and moving to his side, watching him with crossed arms.

“Kinky.” He teases, putting the ornament down before opening your jewelry box.

“Your notebook wouldn't even fit in there.” You say, rolling your eyes. Now he’s just touching stuff to piss you off.

“You never know, princess.” He replies, rifling around, tangling your necklaces in the process before you swat his hand away.

He steps back, looking around your room again.

“Eddie, give it a rest.” You say, exhaling all the air from your lungs in a huff.

“Princess, give me my notebook.” He sings, before bounding to your dresser. His hand hovers over the top drawer and he looks back at you with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare.” You hiss.

“It could be in here?” He says innocently. “Everybody knows that the underwear drawer is the best drawer for hiding stuff.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

“It’s not in there.” You state.

“So you wouldn’t mind if I took a peek?” He says, fingertips taping on the handle. You purse your lips, he wants to look at your panties so bad, fine.

“Go right ahead, Eddie. Live up to your perv reputation.” You say, jetting a hip out. He rolls his eyes, before turning, moving on to a different part of your room.

“I wonder what kind of dirty secrets the princess keeps in her bedside table.” Eddie taunts.

There are no dirty secrets in your bedside table but you’re sure even if he opened that drawer and found nothing he’d still spin it into something.

“Must be a pretty important notebook for you to be doing all this, Eddie.” You say, trying to distract him.

He turns to you, eyes scanning over you, sizing you up.

“You must like me being in your room princess, you know, considering you could just hand over the notebook.” He retorts, eyebrows raised in challenge.

“What? Don’t want me reading your precious notebook? That why you need it so bad?” You taunt.

“Princess, if you must know, I need it for something.” He says, lips pulled in a flat line, unbothered.

“Something? That’s not very specific.” You laugh.

“I didn’t know you were so interested in my life?” He says, perking up.

“I’m not.” You scoff.

“Keep telling yourself that, maybe one day it’ll come true.” He smirks and you want to smack it right off his face.

“Well, you’re the one who was asking about me yesterday.” You spit, words rolling off your tongue.

“You were sick the day before, god forbid I have a heart and a conscience.” He spits back.

The way your own heart speeds up leaves you stumped for words and he picks it up immediately, choosing to double down on you.

“You weren’t sick though, were you? No. Princess was playing hooky. Who were you trying to avoid, hm?” He says, stepping closer to you.

“No one.” You say quietly, body turning hot under his interrogation.

“That sounds like another lie to me. It’s hypocritical, princess, to make me try and admit something while you can’t tell me one honest thing.” He says, voice all too daunting for your liking.

“I’m not lying.” You whisper.

His demeanor changes, all smirks and taunting eyes gone as he settles into something serious.

“Did you regret it? Is that it?” He says quietly, voice staying low but he doesn’t step any closer.

“Regret what?” You deflect, buying time for your heart to stop fluttering so hard.

He steps closer.

“Princess, what did I tell you about playing dumb?” You hear his voice vibrate from his chest, words striking something inside of you like a match.

“You said you like pretty girls on their knees better.” You coo, looking at him through your lashes. Keeping eye contact, you sink to your knees in front of him.

You watch as his eyes widen and it spurs you on. You’re holding the reins now, you’re in control again. Letting your fingertips hook through his belt loops, you pull him forward until he’s right where you want him.

What surprises you is the way he brings his hand to your cheek. It’s soft and almost tender. You could make the mistake of leaning into it, but you don’t.

“Princess, what do you want from me?” He whispers softly. His round eyes twinkle in your bedroom lights, captivating you entirely.

“I don’t want anything from you.” You purr, fingers still hooked in his belt loops keeping him in place. His hand on your cheek turns into a thumb running soft circles against your skin.

“Princess.” He sighs, his chest deflating.

“Do you want me to now?” You ask quietly, letting your eyes flicker to his belt line, referring to his words from the last time you tried to get on your knees for him.

“I didn’t come here for this.” He says, mouth moving in a tight line like he’s fighting some internal battle.

“Yeah, you came here for your notebook.” You state, raising your brows. “But are you gonna let me suck your dick?”

With his jeans tightening by the second his mouth still mulls back and forth, his thumb running soft circles on your cheek. He swallows and you know he’s made up his mind.

“S’all yours, princess.” He says, punctuating his words with a gentle tap to your cheek.

Unhooking your fingers from his belt loops, you walk them to the buckle, the jangle of metal filling the room as you work at it. He watches you intently, eyes staring heatedly when you finally get it undone.

“You gonna let me touch you?” You say with a teasing lilt, copying the same words he said to you. He catches your tease, lips turning up, smiling at you with amusement. “C’mon, Eddie. Use your words, I know you got ‘em in that idiot mouth of yours.” You add, digging in further with your mockery.

“You think you're teasing me, but that’s hot, princess. Keep talking.” He says, voice low and taunting as his narrowed eyes flickering over you.

“How many times have you touched yourself thinking about all those pretty noises I made for you, Eddie?” You coo with a breathy sweetness. His smile wavers but the amused sparkle in his darkening eyes remains strong.

“You don’t want to know, princess.” He replies carefully.

“I do, Eddie, that’s why I asked.” You let your fingers drag down his clothed thighs, he still hasn’t given you an answer, so you don’t go any further. “It’s barely been two days, how many times could a boy possibly cum?” You ask coyly.

“Got a high turnover rate, princess. Can pop one boner after another if something really gets me going.” He laughs and you let your lips turn up at his ridiculousness.

“You didn’t answer me, Eddie.” you say, trailing your nails back up the denim on his thighs. He shuts his mouth harshly before opening it again to speak.

“Anywhere between 2 to 10 times, whatever you think the best answer is, princess. You’re the smart one here.” You laugh and his cheeks tinge pink just enough for you to notice.

“Eddie, I meant my other question. Are you gonna let me touch you?” You say, dipping your head to look at him through your lashes again. His blush deepens as his eyes drink you in, absorbing everything from the way you look at him to the way you speak.

“Princess, I always want you to touch me.” He whispers, his voice small, yet genuine, and it makes your stomach flutter terribly.

“Is that so?” You say feigning indifference, fingers ghosting over the button of his jeans.

“Please.” He says breathily, swallowing thickly as his eyes follow your dainty movements.

To have him so willing at your fingertips. To have him say please. To have him. It stirs something in you that it’s never done before. None of the teasing, hair pulling, name calling, none of that has made you feel anything but red hot anger. But this… this isn’t anger. You’re still burning, but it’s not anger anymore.

His fingers smooth your hair, pulling you from your reverie, drawing your attention up to him. His eyes are waiting for you, softer than ever. It makes you want to scream. Makes you want to lash out. Stomp your foot. Throw something.

But you don’t do that. Instead you undo the button to his jeans and lower the zipper.

“You okay, princess?” Eddie whispers, breaking the silence.

“What?” You snarl, scrunching your face, glaring at him. Overcompensating with an edge. Hiding behind a thin disguise.

“You just went quiet. You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” He says calmly despite the reckless edge you just threw at him. His fingers pass over the top of your head gently, smoothing your hair again.

“Eddie, I can make my own decisions, thank you very much.” You scoff.

“Jesus Christ. I try to be nice and this is what I get?” He huffs but there’s barely any malice behind it, just enough to rile you up.

“Eddie. You just fucking said I was the smart one here, don’t you think I can make my own decisions?” You retort harshly.

“I know you can, princess.” He says exasperatedly. “Fuck, I think I liked it better when you were quiet, can we go back to that?” He groans.

“Fuck you.” You spit aggressively, hands starting to tug down his denim. You half expected him to stop you but he doesn’t. Instead, when you get them down his thighs, he helps you, kicking them off to the side.

Left in his plaid boxers, you hook your fingers around the waist band, and look up to him for permission. With a nod, you pull them down, fabric pooling around his feet.

He bobs against his lower belly before settling in front of you. You try not to react, you can’t give him that. The mean part of you was hoping he’d be small just so you could use it against him, another part of you glows with excitement because he’s not. He’s perfect and you would never tell him that.

You take him in your hand and immediately his breath catches in his throat. Barely moving, a whimper rises in his chest. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

You spit in your hand, bringing it to his length, spreading it all over with both hands, making sure he’s nice and wet.

“Fuck.” He groans and you can’t help the amused smile that spreads on your lips.

“Eddie, I’ve barely even started, and look at you.” You tease, his cock jolting in your hands.

“Keep talking, princess.” He whispers, sounding almost desperate.

“You like when I talk?” You laugh. You start pumping slowly with your one hand, dragging back and forth over his hardness. “You just said you wanted me to be quiet.”

He shakes his head aggressively, eyes shutting.

“Like it when you talk, princess.” He moans.

You sit up straighter on your knees, bringing your mouth to his tip, licking just the head. His eyes shoot open, gaze immediately setting on you.

“You like that, Eddie?” You tease and he nods his head dumbly. “Want me to do it again?” He nods again.

You place a kiss to his tip, pulling back to watch his reaction but he doesn’t have any. In fact, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.

“Eddie, you gotta breathe, can’t have you passing out just from getting your dick sucked.” You taunt. His mouth opens, sucking in a breath, his chest rising and falling harshly as he lets it out. “Look at you, such a good listener tonight.” You laugh, his dick kicking up in your hand again. You shake your head in amusement before placing another kiss to his tip.

You pull away entirely, pushing yourself off your knees, moving to your bed. He’s clearly not fit for standing right now.

When you sit, turning back to Eddie, he’s still standing in the middle of your room, hands brought to his face as he rubs aggressively.

“Eddie.” You call, getting his attention. He spins, pulling his hands away from his face, his bangs sticking up in all different directions. You pat the spot next to you and he’s quick to claim it.

“That’s better isn’t it?” You say as he lays down, hair spanning over your pillow.

“Better.” He says, voice cracking.

You settle between his legs, mouth watering as you take him in your hand again.

You dribble spit over the tip, letting it fall over the head before gathering it, spreading it with a twist of both hands up and down his cock.

“Gonna let me use my mouth now, Eddie? Or are you still desperate to hear me talk?” You tease, gaze finding his blown out eyes.

He nods but you tut.

“Wanna hear you say it, Eddie.” You coo, letting your eyes flicker over him. You stop your hand movements when he takes too long to reply.

“Princess, please put your mouth on my cock. Please.” He says, words practically a whine spilling from his lips.

You nestle closer to him between his thighs, dipping your face, licking up the underside of his cock before opening your mouth and letting it hit against your tongue.

You watch him carefully, reveling in the way he’s falling apart for you. His chest rises and sinks in steady pants, mouth set agape, as his wide eyes watch your every move.

Closing your lips around him, you let him slide in just enough for you to swirl your tongue around his tip.

“Fuck” He groans. You hum, not missing the way his thighs clench as you do.

His hand finds your head, combing your hair back, resting his palm against the side of your face. Most guys start pushing on the back of your head, but Eddie doesn’t.

Flattening your tongue, you take him deeper in your mouth, twisting your hands around him and meeting your mouth halfway up his length.

His other hand takes purchase on the mattress, knuckles turning white from how hard he’s gripping the comforter. It’s completely dichotomous to the gentle grip he holds on your face. It’s almost laughable.

You bring your head up and down before pulling off with a pop, spitting on the tip again, making sure your hands glide slickly along his length.

“Is that good, Eddie?” You ask before returning your mouth to his cock. Your added spit makes a slick, wet noise as you move your fists up and down on his length.

“Fuck, princess. S’really good.” He gasps breathily, his stomach tensing as your thumb wipes at the precum gathering on his tip.

You smile before parting your lips, taking him back in your mouth.

You take him further this time, his cock hitting the back of your throat and he whimpers pitifully. You do it again and his fingertips press in the slightest bit harder against your face, still not pushing you, just translating his pleasure through his touch.

You hollow your cheeks, sinking harder and faster, bobbing your head. His fingers weave into your hair gently and it spurs you on. You take him deeper, relaxing your throat, letting him slide right in until your lips meet your fingers at his base.

When you do it again, you push yourself a little too hard, gagging yourself, sputtering as you rise. With a deep, broken moan Eddie’s hips follow your mouth, only settling back to the bed when you pull off of him with a gasp as you catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ.” He whimpers under his breath.

You feel his cock pulsing in your fist, his hand tugging ever so gently on the roots of your hair and you start to think you might just like this too much.

You take him in your mouth again, all the way back to your throat, removing your hands entirely until your nose nestles against the wispy hairs above his shaft.

You exploringly let your fingertips tiptoe to his balls, taking them in one hand, massaging them gently.

“F-fuck. Fuck.” Eddie groans, stomach tensing sharply, his thighs squeezing against you.

You jerk your head on his cock, continuing to massaging his balls using the mess of wetness leaking down his shaft to help guide your skillful movements.

It’s not long before every bob of your head is being chased by the rise of his hips. He’s desperate for release, you both know it.

You flicker your eyes to him and he’s never looked more scattered. Bangs disheveled, cheeks rosy, brows pinched, half lidded eyes all dark and pleading, just for you. You do like it too much, you really, really do.

His gaze meets yours, flickering between you and your mouth.

“Doing so fucking good princess. Don’t stop. Please.” He whines. You hum contentedly, sinking onto him, hands still working his balls as they tense in your grasp.

His hand in your hair starts to sting as he pulls at it but he still doesn’t push you, he wouldn’t do that unless you told him to, you’re sure of it now.

His moans and whimpers rise, getting higher and longer, composing a symphony just for you. It comes to a crescendo when you take him all the way to his base again. His hips rise from the mattress, cock choking you, and you swallow around him, making him cry out a desperate moan that simmers into a broken whimper.

You know he’s close.

You hum to yourself, gulping him into your mouth, meeting his quick, uneven thrusts.

“I’m g-gonna cum.” He says in a strangled moan. His hand in your hair tugs impossibly hard, trying to pull you from him but you don’t let him. He doesn’t make your decisions, you do. He should know better.

You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and working him in your hands. The obscene, slicked noises coming from your movements fill the room, accompanying his moans, and he breaks.

For a moment, you watch him as he falls apart and it’s beautiful. Eyes rolling closed, face contorted in pleasure. It’s undeniably beautiful. You don’t let yourself drink in his beauty for too long though, that would be like admitting something and you wouldn’t do that so you refocus on the task at hand (and mouth).

Cum spurting to the back of your throat, you take him deeper a final time, swallowing it all down until you can’t. You pull up, feeling some leaking for the corners of your lips but you keep going, working him through his release as his cock throbs against your tongue.

He cums so hard that he’s babbling different versions of praises intermixed with your name. Your real name. Not princess, and it takes you by surprise.

“Fucking shit. F-Fuck.” He whimpers, hips sinking back to the mattress, stuttering. You slow your movements before pulling off of him with a satisfying ‘pop’.

His cock is shiny, the cum that didn’t get swallowed, gathering around his base. You flicker your eyes to him and he’s watching you now with a glazed over stare. Dipping your mouth to him one last time, you lick up the pearly shine and he looks at you like he might explode.

You pull away with a laugh, wiping your mouth.

His body deflates, melting into the mattress as he throws his head back against the pillow, eyes squeezing shut.

“Holy shit.” He groans.

You shift in between his thighs, hands disgustingly wet and sticky so you reach up, wiping both of them down the front of his shirt, leaving behind the glistening wet print of 10 fingers on the black fabric. You expect him to say something but his eyes remain closed, breathing still heavy.

With a gap between the two of you, you lay down beside him, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Your eyes move up, taking in the rosiness of his face and the way it spreads down his neck. You even take the time to notice the delicate way his thick lashes lay atop his cheeks.

“You better not fall asleep here.” You sneer, shaking your head, forcing yourself to stop staring before he notices.

“Why not? Daddy’s not home is he?” He says, breathing still heavy.

“Don’t be a dick.” You retort. He pauses, sucking in a deep, steadying breath and letting it out.

“Pretty sure mine just melted off.” You see his smirk on his face, but his eyes remain closed.

“No, it’s still there unfortunately.” You say flatly, eyes flitting to his softening dick.

“Unfortunately?” He laughs.

“Yup.” You reply.

Eddie shifts the slightest bit, hand raising from his side as he blindly feels around the bed. When he touches your hip you try to swat him away but he grabs your hand, forcing his fingers to intertwine with yours.

“Gross, stop trying to hold my hand!” You shriek, holding back your laughter as you try to shake him off.

“Princess, let me hold your fucking hand. You just sucked the soul right out of me, I need this.” He says with a laugh, grasp getting stronger with each shake of your wrist.

“You're so weird.” You say, hiding your amusement, trying to find any hint of malice to add to your words but it comes out meak.

Eddie lays there for a few minutes, your hand in his. You try to ignore his radiating warmth by thinking about the project you’re supposed to be doing with him but your eyes keep sinking to your hand in his.

“What time should I pick you up tomorrow?” Eddie says, turning to face you, opening his eyes finally. His question startles you, taking you aback.

“What?” You laugh.

“For school. What time should I pick you up?” He says again, speaking to you like you’re a child.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state. It’s not up for debate.

“You’re not playing hooky tomorrow, and if I pick you up, I can be sure of it.” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You’re not picking me up.” You state again.

“Fine. I’ll sleep here tonight then tomorrow we can walk to school together.” He replies, tilting his face towards you and lifting his brows.

“You can't sleep here.” You object firmly.

“Princess.” He says warningly.

“Eddie.” You warn back. His eyes stare into you, making your stomach flutter with nerves.

“I’m going to brush my teeth and wash my hands.” You say abruptly, pulling your hand from his.

“I’ll be here.” He sings teasingly.

“No. You. Won’t.” You reply stubbornly as you haul yourself off the bed and out of the room.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Nancy's words from earlier ring in your head.

‘He gets worse.’

The game you play is shifting. The dance is speeding up. It makes your heart beat too fast and your stomach flutter dreadfully.

Maybe she was right.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

part 3 here

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut

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brokebonewritings · 11 months

Text

Thirsting

Matt Murdock x Reader

Tags/ Warnings: 18+, Smut, Fluff

Summary: After dating for six months, you and Matt spend a long romantic evening together. Song: Move by Taemin

Word Count: 3.5K

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“How about this one?” Karen says, holding a pastel yellow lace bralet.

Currently you and Karen were lingerie shopping after you had let slip how badly you wanted Matt to touch you.

“You know he’s not going to be able to see it right?” You say as you look through the stack in front of you.

“Right, but he can feel it.” She grins.

Damn. She had a point, he could feel it. You watch as she continues to hold it up. It was cute, you thought.

“Okay.” You say with a smile. She cheers and throws the set at you.

This wasn’t something you had ever thought about doing. Sure you’ve been with others before but you felt that you had to make it special with Matt. He would disagree on the other hand.

“Helloooo?” Karen says with a grin. “What’s going on in that brain?”

“Oh nothing.” You blush.

“You were thinking about tonight!” She squealed as she grabbed your arm. Your face gained a darker hue at the truth.

The both of you continue to look around before you both are satisfied. You bring your findings to the counter and pay before you second guess yourself. Karen took you to lunch after, gave you several pep talks before sending you on your way.

You had butterflies in the pit of your stomach. For a few reasons. One, You had no idea what Matt had been planning. Two, Matt has no idea what you have been planning. Three, You were going to have sex with your best friend turned lover. The list could go on forever.

Once you’re home, you do your usual routine. Clean the leftover dishes, finish some laundry, and take a shower. It’s only when you step out and wrap the towel around yourself you get nervous. Never had you bought lingerie to impress your partners. Just Matt.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, rotating around to get a full view. The pastel lingerie against your skin really did accentuate your features. Hopefully your advances would be noticed by Matt.

Putting on your dress, you finish getting ready and leave for his apartment. You both had planned to stay in and have dinner for the night. Maybe finally you would have the courage to tell him what you wanted.

Except it wasn’t a matter of want anymore. You needed him to touch you. Craving his fingers against your skin, his hand groping every ounce of your body.

It was busy on the streets for Thursday night. You walked in dead silence, thinking about all the things that would happen.

Matt was probably setting up for the date. He was telling you earlier that he had a surprise in store. You could only imagine what it could be.

Finally reaching his building, you take the elevator up to his floor. Slowly the elevator comes to a stop and the doors open. You jump as you realize he was standing outside of the lift.

Flowers were the first things you saw. The most beautiful daisies and tulips. As they lowered, you caught a glimpse of Matt’s smile. He looked incredibly handsome as always.

“Hi, baby.” He greets. You smile wide as you step out of the lift.

“Hey, Matty.” You reply. “Were you waiting for me?”

“Of course, I heard you come into the building.”

“Makes sense.” You step closer to him. “Are those for me?”

“Yeah.” He sighs.

You blush from how breathy his last response was. Did you truly take his breath away? It was a good sign after all. He holds out his arm, and you take it. Leading you back to his apartment, you notice the small candles lit on the floor as you enter.

After hanging your coat, you both walk further inside. You see his couch and coffee table have been pushed back and in place is a blanket with pillows. Just like a small picnic, it’s set up for dinner complete with roses and wine.

“Matty…” You say in awe. He did all of this for you? It truly made your eyes water. It was so sexy of him to do all of this. Plan the date, and decorate in this way.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He starts as he turns towards you. “I know it’s a sappy thing, but it’s been six months.”

It was sappy, but you liked it. You wrap your arms around his neck and bring him in for a tight hug.

“I love it.” You say as you pull back. “And I love you too.”

He smiles and takes your hand. Leading you to the blanket, he helps you sit down and tells you to wait. You nod and watch as he walks to the kitchen.

Once he disappears, you take a deep breath. The nerves were starting to get to you. He set up beautifully though. Rose petals scattered about, light incense filled the air. It was everything you could imagine and more.

Just as fast as he left, he came back carrying two plates. When he set yours before you all you could do was gape. He had made a beautiful looking chicken parm.

“Mr. Murdock, am I to assume you made this all yourself?”

He chuckles at your comment. Sitting down in front of you he situates himself before responding.

“Every little crumb, my dear.”

You giggle in return. Of course he had. Somedays you had to remind yourself that he really was capable of doing a lot.

Dinner with Matt was incredible. He made the most delicious food, and he always kept the conversation interesting. Once you were both finished with dinner, he brought the plates back into the kitchen and settled back in front of you.

“I’ve been thinking about something.” You confess, and he tilts his head. “I think I’m ready.”

His eyebrows raise behind his glasses. Biting your lip, you wonder if now was the right time to do something like this.

“You’re sure?” He asks

“Yeah.” You say as you stand. “I actually have a surprise for you.”

Your face flushes a deep pink as your dress drops to the floor. Approaching him on the blanket, you stand awkwardly above him. He takes your hand into his own, and tugs so that you kneel in front of him. Your heart racing with anxiety.

“Oh, sweetheart.” He grins. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

His hand slides up your arm and stops once he feels the strap of your bralet. He hesitates before tilting his head. The look of confusion on his face.

“What are you wearing?”

“Lingerie.” You reply, feeling a little embarrassed. “I told Karen you wouldn’t be able to see it.”

“Karen helped you?”

Your bottom lip slips between your teeth. It wasn’t like you to be this nervous before sex. Your heart still pounded against your chest.

“She helped me pick it out, yeah.”

He lets out a sighed chuckle. “Then, sweetheart, describe what it looks like.”

“Why don’t you feel for yourself.” You say as you take his hand.

Gently, you move it just beneath your rib cage. His hand slides up to cup your breast lightly. You could tell that with each touch he was assessing the fabric.

“Lace. With a flower pattern.” He starts. “It’s a soft lace. Satin right underneath it.”

You nod your head to confirm. “Yeah, that’s right.”

He smiles at his little success. Though you know he didn’t need to take the victory. Matt squeezes your chest, and you let out a soft gasp.

“What color is it?” He asks, taking in a deep breath.

“Yellow. Pastel Yellow.”

“Perfect.” He squeezes a little harder. “Such a good girl, all dressed up for me.”

You groan out as he grins at you. The bastard knew what he was doing. Trying to get you to come undone in front of him. Looking down, you stare as his hands rub against your ribs. Maybe it was the wine but all you could think about was the way his hand would look wrapped around your neck.

He must have heard your thoughts, because one of his hands reaches up and grabs your jaw. Pulling you in for a bruising kiss.

His grip was strong but you wanted this. You wanted him to be rough. He was always so gentle with you. Treating you like glass in some instances. It never went further than making out on the couch. You needed this.

The kiss was intensified as he slid his tongue against your bottom lip. You open your mouth to grant him access. His thumb which was pressed against your chin moves to the corner of your mouth. As he pulls away from the kiss, he replaces his tongue with his thumb.

Moaning loudly, he removes his thumb and inserts two of his fingers. You gag against them as he pushes them farther into your mouth.

“Breath, sweetheart.” He sighs. “Stick out your tongue.”

Obeying, you stick your tongue out allowing him to shove his fingers down your throat. He moans at the sensation of your whines. When he is satisfied, he removes them and grins at you deviously.

“What was the point of that?” You coughed out.

“So I could do this.”

He reaches down, moves your panties to the side and inserts his fingers into your cunt. You gasp loudly, hands flying to grip his shoulders. Every shock of his movements coursed through your body.

Never before had a man taken care of you like this. Your body shudders as he pumps his fingers in and out of you.

You can feel the heat growing in your stomach as he continues to fuck you with his fingers. His thumb adds to the mix as he begins to circle your clit.

Your moans and pants are a sure sign of your approaching orgasm. Just as you hit your climax, he removes his fingers. He moans as he listens to your racing heart.

Watching as he slips the fingers into his mouth and moans once more. His tongue swirling around his digit, tasting every bit of your slick.

Your cheeks flush as he removes his glasses and sets them aside. His eyes fix onto you and you shiver in anticipation. It was something out of a book. The darkness of his eyes have you mesmerized.

“You taste so good, baby.” He says above a whisper. His other hand rests on your hip as he slips his fingers under the band of your panties. “Why don’t we take these off.”

You nod and help him remove the piece of fabric. Before you can rest on your knees again, he pushes you lightly onto your back.

Looking up at him, you watch as he begins to remove his shirt. The lights from outside illuminate his face just enough for you to see him lick his lips.

He crawls over to you once he’s finished and pushes your legs open. The heat on your face burns as he looks up towards you. He smiles before licking his lips once more.

“I think I’ve earned dessert. What do you say, sweetheart?” He grins and you moan in response.

Wasting no time, he kisses his way up your thighs hovering just above your pussy. He takes a deep, before swiping his tongue against your length. The sensation is warm and shocking.

You could feel the way his tongue devours every inch of your core. Tongue slipping in and out of you, the obscene noises were all you heard.

Matt took his time. He needed to feel every jerk of your hip, needed to smell your arousal in full. Like he craved it more than anything in the world. Your loud breathy moans were like a symphony that only he could write.

“Matt, oh God, I’m close.” You whined out, causing him to growl against you.

Each swipe of his tongue brought you close to the edge. Until finally he flicks your clit a certain way. You scream as you begin to orgasm.

The sensation was maddening, you didn’t know if it was possible to continue after that. However, your boyfriend knew you absolutely could.

“Good girl.” He says, coming up to kiss you. “Such a good girl.”

You smile underneath his kiss. The praises alone started to another fire inside you.

“Please Matty, I need you.”

“I know, baby. Help me with my pants.”

Shakily, you climb to your knees and tug on his belt loop. You pull him close to you and pepper kisses on his jawline.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Matthew Murdock, but I’m addicted to you.”

You unbutton his pants and help him out of them. His cock strained against his briefs. Sucking on your teeth, you grab the waistband and tug them down.

The groan surfacing from the back of his throat was a sign of relief. His cock springing free from the compounds of his briefs. Now it was your turn to let out a long moan.

“I was gonna be rough with you,” He starts. “But no, no. You need to be loved, and I will make sure you feel just that.”

He grabbed onto his cock and gave a few slow pumps. You had already settled back into the soft pillows below.

Eyeing him hungrily, you watched him shudder at the touch of his hand. What was he imagining at this moment?

It didn’t take long for his length to harden. It was painfully hard, and you could tell by the way he hissed at each stroke. Your heartbeat flutters as you watch the hair fall into his face.

“Baby.” His gruff voice pulls you from your thoughts.

“Hm?”

“Condoms.”

You process the word that left his mouth. Condoms? Fuck, condoms. Sitting up, you look around the space until you spot the small square package on the coffee table.

Cheeky. Right out in the open. How did you not notice? Standing, you saunter over and grab the little packet.

“Fire and Ice? That’s hot”

The chuckle you earn from him perks your ears. You walk back over to him, opening the packet and taking out the small rubber sleeve.

“You know I just want to give you all the pleasure.”

“I get the feeling you asked the clerk for help on this.”

“Guilty as charged.”

You kneel in front of him, grabbing his hardened cock. He hisses and grips his thighs. Giving him a few pumps, you prep the condom and roll it onto his length. Once it's rolled on completely, you return to your position of laying back onto the pillows.

Taking a deep breath, you wait as he crawls above you. Both of his elbows resting by your head. He leans down and kisses you with intense love. Something you have never felt before Matt. As he pulls away, he rests his forehead against yours. You both take a shaky breath before he speaks.

“Ready?”

“Always.”

As you gave him the consent he was waiting for, he lines himself against your entrance. He takes a shaky breath before pushing into you slowly. You both let out a long moan.

If you had to be honest, it stung. It had been quite some time since you had sex, and you forgot about having to adjust. A few stray tears escape your eyes causing Matt to stop.

“Sweetheart, am I hurting you?” His voice was laced with concern.

You shake your head. “I just need to adjust. I’m okay. Promise.”

Bringing your legs a little higher, it relieved some of the burn. Kissing your face softly, he stops until you’re ready. You grab onto his shoulder and whisper a soft ‘okay’. He begins to push himself in just a little more.

It’s tolerable, not stinging like before. When he finally bottoms out, you moan loudly. This causes goosebumps to spread over his skin. You made the most beautiful noises.

After a moment of letting you adjust, Matt pulls his hips back before slowly sliding back in. The grip you had on his shoulder begins to tight as he pumps himself into you.

“Oh- Oh god, M-Matt.” You moan out, throwing your head back. His pace picks up and you can’t help but wonder how long he can last. He grabs onto one of your legs, putting it on his shoulder.

“Fuck- you’re so tight, sweetheart” Each pump was harder than the last and you could feel his hot breath in your ear. His hips slammed against yours, making a loud noise with each thrust.

Hooking your leg over his shoulder, you gripped onto his shoulders. His thrusts picked up and you couldn’t help but feel your walls tightening.

“M-Matt… I’m gonna come.” You say as you roll your hips against him, causing him to groan in pleasure.

“Come for me. Please.” He begs. “Please, baby.”

His thrusts become more erratic before he stops and shuts his eyes. His cock pulsates as he struggles to hold his own release. You throw your head back as you ride out your orgasm. Matt goes still, letting out a deep groan.

After feeling you tighten around him, he submits to his own orgasm. He pumps himself into you a few more times before pulling out completely. He falls onto his back beside you. You roll onto your side to face him.

“I love you.” He says, still breathing deeply.

“I love you too.” You say, leaning in to kiss him.

“You felt incredible.” He smiles. “Every moan was like a song.”

You feel the heat spread across your cheeks. You look away for a moment before meeting his gaze again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," you say softly, your fingers tracing circles on his bare chest.

He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

"You're amazing," he says, his voice husky. "I can't believe how lucky I am to have you."

“You’ve had me since the moment we met.” You admit. “You couldn’t expect to get rid of me that fast, Murdock.”

He chuckles and you watch his eyes crinkle. It was the most beautiful thing about him. His smile. God, was he just beautiful in general. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against yours.

"I don't ever want to get rid of you. You're mine now."

Your heart flutters at his possessiveness, but you find yourself enjoying it. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer to you. He smells of sweat and sex, but there's something else there too, something uniquely Matt that you can't quite put your finger on.

As if reading your thoughts, he pulls away from you slightly, a curious expression on his face.

"What's going on in that beautiful mind of yours?" he asks.

You bite your lip, unsure if you want to share your thoughts with him. But you trust him, more than anyone else you've ever been with.

"I was just thinking how...different this is from anything I've ever experienced before," you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A good different, I hope.” He chuckles.

You smile in return. “Of course it's good! You’re one of the best things that has ever happened to me.”

He smiles, his eyes softening with emotion. "You're one of the best things that's ever happened to me too," he says, his words weighted with sincerity.

You feel a warm glow spread through your chest at his words. It was moments like these that made you fall in love with him a little more every day. As you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you feel a sense of contentment wash over you.

You scoot closer to him, feeling his warmth contrast with the chill of the room. It was moments like these where you wished to capture it in a still frame. You never thought you'd be lucky enough to find someone like him, someone who just gets you.

Matt sighs, before sitting up. You stare as he begins to roll the condom off and pick himself off the ground. He walks away for a moment before coming back with a washcloth.

“Matty?” You ask in confusion.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

He walks over, and gives you a lazy smile. “Someone has to clean you up, sweetheart. I don’t think your legs are going to work that well.”

You giggle before allowing him to wipe you down. Not feeling embarrassed, instead you feel gratitude. Finally finding someone who took care of you in all aspects. After he finishes, he puts the cloth on the table and returns to you. Gathering you in his arms, he walks you to the bedroom.

Of course he hadn’t expected the both of you to sleep on the floor. You were grateful for that as well. You were grateful for the whole evening. As you both laid in bed, you thought of everything that brought you to this moment.

Even after everything he wanted you. He wanted all of you, and that’s all you could have asked for.

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countryclubkook · 1 year

Text

Don’t Look At Me Like That

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem Pogue! Reader

Warnings: ANGST, mentions of blood, guns, death, spoilers of course, language, Rafe being absolutely insane, underage drinking (drink responsibly), not proofread so potential grammatical errors

Summary: JJ tries to keep Y/N safe and out of trouble by not letting her tag along with them as they reunite with their friends and continue their hunt for gold. But what happens when a party between friends goes wrong and Y/N finds herself in a compromised position?

A/N: I did cry while writing this so I apologize in advance <3

“Don't look at me like that! I don't want your hungry eyes all over me” you teased JJ as he raked his eyes up and down your body. You were only wearing his T-shirt and your underwear due to the events of the night before.

A late night swim (that was very rudely forced upon you when JJ threw you into the water) to celebrate John B and Sarah being alive despite still being in the Bahamas meant that your clothes were soaked and you didn't have any backups. JJ being the gentleman that he is offered you his shirt insisting that ‘it would look so much hotter on you’ and you graciously accepted. The two of you weren't dating, but you were much more than just friends. The group could see how in love you both were just from the way you looked at each other but you'd never act upon it because no pogue on pogue macking. So the both of you settled for shameless flirting and lingering thoughts of what if.

“Sorry princess, I just can't help it when you look that good” that stupid smirk that you loved so much on his face. you shook your head laughing before picking up a pillow from the couch and throwing it at him.

You watched as he dramatically threw himself back, rolling off the couch and clutching his heart. This was the JJ that you fell in love with, the one that could manage to make you laugh even at your lowest point. JJ had his eyes closed but opened one to glance in your direction. You had that beautiful smile he loved so much on full display, your head was thrown back as you laughed.

You were the most beautiful girl in the world in his eyes. He had come to you about the shit his dad was doing before anyone else, you became extremely protective over him from that moment forward. John B had offered him a place to crash if he ever needed it when he found out, but you? You basically forced him to come stay with you. So he did, he packed all his stuff and came to live with you in your little trailer a few months ago and the two of you made it your home. He was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice you had said something to him.

“Sorry what?” his voice confused as he shook his head

“I said, you're such an idiot” you said with a small laugh and tilt of your head.

“Yeah but I'm your idiot and you love me for it” he winked. There wasn't anything unusual with what he said but for some reason it caused your heart to skip a beat hearing the words ‘your’ and ‘love’ in the same sentence.

“Oh shut up” you said with a forced smile on your face as you turned your back towards him and walked towards the kitchen.

JJ furrowed his brows at the sudden switch in mood but didn't want to push you to talk. If it was important you'd come to him about it. Instead, he decided to go take a shower while you cooked breakfast to try and give you some space. On the way to the bathroom he stopped to give you a kiss on your cheek earning a small genuine smile for you. He took this as a win and walked with some pep in his step to the bathroom.

Once you heard the shower running you let out a deep breath, moving over to the sink to splash some cold water on your face. “Get it together Y/N, you know the rules” you said to yourself.

As much as you loved JJ and you knew the others would be supportive of you two, something inside you was preventing you from telling him how you truly felt. You were sure he had some idea because he gave you the same look. The fear of ruining the friendship with both each other and the rest of your group held you both back from admitting it. The ‘no pogue on pogue’ rule being your scapegoat for why you weren't together.

You let out a loud sigh before walking to the fridge to start breakfast. This would be the least of your worries for what was to come.

All he told you was that he, along with Kie and Pope, was trying to find evidence to implicate Rafe and Ward in Peterkin's death to clear John B’s name. After what happened to John B and Sarah, he wanted to keep you out of it as much as he could. If you went missing or got hurt because of what they were doing he couldn't live with himself. So you sat at home just hoping they were staying safe and not doing anything stupid.

A few days passed and you were getting worried, he'd been gone with no contact after Pope received some sketchy letter from a lady wanting to meet with him in Charleston. Obviously JJ and Kie weren't going to let him go alone and you were told to stay home. That they would go meet her and then come back. But that didn't happen.

Instead, they were running from Limbrey and her attack dog with no way home. Turns out you can't trust letters from rich families swearing they can prove your teenage best friend's innocence but only if you agree to meet in person. But some good came out of it when they were finally reunited with John B and Sarah. Thankfully they had a boat and we were able to make it back to the obx in one piece. JJ asked to get dropped off first while the others went to go get beer so he could charge his phone and let you know he was safe.

When it finally had enough charge, he checked his phone. Oh shit.

20 missed calls.

55 texts.

10 voicemails.

All from you freaking out about where he was and why he wasn't answering. He instantly clicked your name and called you, mentally preparing for the lecture he'd get. When you didn't pick up he got worried. You never ignored his calls, even if you were mad at him you'd send him a text telling him you didn't want to talk.

A loud knock at the front door made him jump. He grabbed his knife before slowly going to check it out. As he approached and could see clearly, he noticed it was just you and let out a sigh of relief. That was until he saw the look on your face of course.

“JJ! I see you in there. Let me in” you were so annoyed. You understood has was trying to keep you safe and help your friends, but he had you worried sick.

You heard the door unlock and watched the door slowly swing open revealing the blonde-haired boy. He brought his hand up to the back of his neck and stared at you nervously.

“Oh uh, hey Y/N/N” a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under right now.

“Hey Y/N/N” you mocked him. Was that really all he had to say to you right now?

“How about ‘hey Y/N, I know I've been MIA lately but here's everything that happened. I'm sorry for worrying you” you lightly pushed his chest as you walked inside. You stood there with your arms crossed waiting for him to respond.

“Okay…I deserved that. Look that lady that wanted to meet Pope turned out to be fucking crazy and then we were running from her little attack dog because he was trying to kill us, the truck broke down in Charleston and my phone died or else I swear I would have called you immediately. Then we run into John B and Sarah and they have a boat and end up getting us back here and now they're all out getting beer and we're going to celebrate! Isn't that amazing? They're back baby!” he looked at you with a smile expecting you to throw your arms around him and celebrate.

Instead, you just shook your head and stormed outside. He followed you out confused as to why you were so upset. Sure he had failed to stay in contact with you but it wasn't done on purpose.

“I thought you died JJ. All I could do was think about you coming home to me in a fucking body bag. I was so sick and I didn't sleep the whole time because I was so worried. Then you come home and expect me to just be okay. To just get drunk and pretend like I didn't think I lost you before I could even tell you that I-” but you cut yourself off. Tears were streaming down your face by this point and you could barely see from your blurred vision.

“Tell me what?” he knew what you were going to say. He knew but he desperately wanted to hear you tell him what he's wanted to hear for months now.

“Nothing. It's nothing, forget it” you shook your head as your voice cracked, staring at the ground unable to look JJ in the eyes right now.

“Please. I need to hear you say it” he begged. He was standing in front of you now, bringing his hands to both sides of your face and forcing you to look at him.

“I love you JJ. Scratch that, I'm in love with you. I have been for ages and I tried to just push it away and let the feeling fast as time went on but I can't do it anymore. I am hopelessly in love with you” you sobbed out. His eyes filled with tears and mirrored yours.

“It's about damn time you said it baby. I love you so much, I think I've been in love with you since I first saw you” his voice was soft, much softer than it ever was.

“What about the rule?” you were still so scared of ruining the friendship with the others.

“Fuck the rule. When have I ever followed rules?” he let out a small laugh, his eyes glancing at your lips.

“You're right, fuck the rule. Now kiss me idiot” you smiled before his lips came crashing into yours. It was like fireworks had gone off inside you, it was such an intense feeling for the both of you. You'd longed for this moment for so long and now it was finally happening.

When you both pulled away you could hear cheering and clapping from behind you. The rest of the gang was there and had seen your whole confession. You hid your face in his chest out of embarrassment.

“You owe me $20 Pope” you heard Kie say. JJ looked at you in confusion and you did the same. They could see you both look at each other and explained they had made a bet.

“Oh yeah you see we didn't know which of you would break first so we made a bet on who confessed first. My bet was on JJ and Kies was Y/N” Pope said with a shrug of his shoulders before walking to the backyard, beer in hand, to set up for your mini reunion.

You ran to John B and Sarah and gave them a big hug, making sure to be careful with Sarah due to her injury. You were all crying tears of joy as you caught up with each other. Sarah told you what happened with Rafe and you were shocked. Sure he had issues but for him to shoot his own sister?

That just meant he was becoming more unhinged and you would all have to be very careful with what you did next. Night had finally fallen upon you all and everyone was having a good time.

JJ had brought the weed for you all and that combined with the beers had you forgetting all your troubles for a brief moment. There was no Rafe or Ward, there was no police chasing after you, it was just all of you hanging out together as friends celebrating Sarah and John B’s return.

John B had noticed the memorial on the tree you'd all made for him when you thought he was dead and JJ walked over to presumably have a mini talk with him. They were like brothers and he really thought he'd lost him. Kie had gone over to Pope to talk about whatever was going on with them, you didn't want to pry because it seemed like whatever they had going on was fairly awkward right now and Kie had only briefly mentioned it to you. So that left you and Sarah to talk.

You had a soft spot for her when she very first came on board your crazy adventures. She was your typical kook at first glance, but deep down there was more to Sarah Cameron than money and status. You'd grown quite close to her before she and John B had gone missing. She had become a sister to you and you loved her.

“So…you and JJ hm?” she giggled, raising her eyebrows in a playful manner.

“Yeah yeah, I was just so worried you know? With everything that has happened with us it's made me realize life is too short to leave things unsaid. You never know what's going to happen.” you said with sincerity. If you had never said anything and JJ did get killed or seriously injured, you don't think you could live with yourself knowing you didn't get to tell him how you felt.

“No I get it, I mean if something happened to John B and I had things to tell him that I never got the chance to I would regret it for the rest of my life. That's why we got married, we can say we lived life to the fullest and made each other the happiest people alive. It's rare to find someone that loves you that much” her high was still very much there, but she still meant every word. The topic of conversation sobered her up slightly.

“Woah woah woah, you two got married?!” you exclaimed a little too loud causing the others to look in your direction before returning to what they were doing.

“We did, I mean it wasn't like official but…yeah” a wide smile on her face. You reached over to give her a hug, you were so happy for her. They may not have known each other long, but the love they had for each other was real and it was genuine. You wanted them to be happy and they were.

JJ and John B came back to join the two of you as Pope and Kie headed off somewhere alone together in the boat. The four of you shouting goodbyes at them.

“Have a good time!” Sarah hollered at them with a large wave.

“Use protection kids!” you hollered listening as they shouted an ‘oh my god gross, shut up!’ in return.

“There he goes. He jacked your boat dude” JJ said to John B with a small smirk on his face.

“Pogues poking the pogue” John B had a look of either confusion, disgust, shock, or a mix of all three as he watched the can't disappear from your view.

The alcohol had kicked in and you excused yourself to go inside the chateau and use the bathroom. JJ pulled you in for a kiss before slapping your ass and letting you walk inside. You heard Sarah yelp out for you both and rolled your eyes on the way inside. Typical JJ behavior, except now he didn't have to be shy about it.

You had just finished using the bathroom and were about to wash your hands when you heard a loud crash. Assuming it was just one of the others stumbling inside you ignored it. What you weren't counting on, however, was walking out of the bathroom and having a gun placed against the back of your skull.

“Any sudden moves princess and I'll blow your damn head off. Outside now.” you recognized his voice. It was Barry, the same guy that held you all at gunpoint when you first went on this crazy treasure hunt.

And it wasn't Barry that scared you, you'd seen how easy it was to overpower him and you knew that the four of you against him would easily be enough to take him down. It was that where he went, Rafe went. And Rafe had proved to be increasingly crazier as time went on. Deep down you hoped that if you just followed orders you could be let free.

That hope quickly changed when you saw Rafe also had a gun and your other friends were all hiding in a tree. JJ felt like his heart was about to explode and his eyes about to pop out of his head. He wanted nothing more than to jump down and rescue you, but he knew that would put you in more danger so he stayed out silently hoping you were safe.

“Well well, look what we have here. You're JJ’s little girlfriend, right? Another good for nothing pogue” Rafe's words were slightly slurred and he looked out of it. He took a few steps closer to you and lifted your chin with his gun as Barry took his off. You looked at him with pure disgust and hatred.

“Go to hell asshole” you spit at him. He didn't seem to like that very much. His jaw clenched and then there was a sharp pain across your face, warm red liquid rolling down your cheek from the cut he'd left.

“Listen here you little bitch. I'm the one with the gun, don't test me right now okay? Just tell me where my sister and John B are and you can go” he had a much more aggressive tone now. You weren't stupid, you knew what he was going to do.

“I'm not telling you anything.” you snarled. He took a few steps back, shaking his head and laughing maniacally. He then noticed the tree, oh no.

“So your sisters a pogue for life, huh, Rafe? Now who would've thought” Barry taunted him. Your breathing started getting uneven as the fear finally settled in.

His jaw tensed and his weight began shifting before he finally screamed “Shit!” which caused even Barry to tell him to chill.

It all happened in slow motion, one minute he was shooting at the tree and the next you felt a sharp pain in your abdomen as he aimed the gun at you. You looked down slowly to see blood oozing out onto your shorts and with shaky hands, placed them on top of the wound to try and stop the bleeding. JJ felt like his world stopped and he just hoped Rafe and Barry would leave soon so he could get to you.

“Rafe what the fuck?!” Barry exclaimed as he pushed Rafe backwards. He gave you a quick glance before he told them they had to get out of there.

“Are you trying to get us caught bro? We gotta bounce, now Rafe come on!” the two boys finally getting into their car and leaving you all alone.

You dropped to the ground and laid on your back as the blood loss began kicking in causing you to feel dizzy. JJ came running over to you with tears in his eyes as he frantically called John B and Sarah over to help. He took off his shirt and applied it to your wound with pressure hoping to stop more blood from coming out but it soaked through it almost instantly. They all stared in shock and despair watching the scene unfold.

You brought your bloody hands up to JJ’s face causing him to look at you and stop what he was doing to help the bleeding. His eyes were full of pain, this whole time he had kept you safe and now you were fucking shot because he left you alone.

“JJ…” no, he didn't like the tone of your voice one bit. You were not saying goodbye to him right now. You were going to get help and make it out alive and Rafe would go to prison.

“No Y/N stay with me baby, I need you to stay with me” he cradled you in his arms while Sarah went to try and call Kie and Pope. None of them knew what to do, if they called for help John B would be caught. If they didn't call for help there was a chance you'd die.

“H-hey, I love you oka-y” if this was it, you needed him to hear you say it one last time.

“No no no, baby you're okay. It's going to be okay, just keep those pretty eyes open okay? Keep looking at me” his voice cracking as reality set in. You'd lost too much blood, you knew you were dying.

“D-don't look at me like t-that” you stopped midway through, coughing up blood “I don't want your last m-memory of me to be like t-this” you wanted him, no you needed him, to remember you the way you always were before this. You needed him to remember your smile, the way your face would heat up at any of his flirtatious comments, the twinkle in your eyes you always seemed to have. Only the good parts about you.

“Sorry princess” he paused to take a deep breath, “you're just too good looking to not look at”. You let out a pained laugh as your breathing slowed. You wanted him to be the last thing you saw, you wanted to die looking at the love of your life.

His tears freely flowed down his face as he gave you one final kiss. The twinkle in your eyes was replaced by dullness and the slow rise of your chest stopped completely. He had lost you.

Sobs wracked through his body as he cradled your lifeless body in his arms. Sarah and John B placed their hands on his back and shoulders as they cried with him.

“Don't worry baby, I'll make sure to get you justice. I love you

#jj maybank imagine #jj maybank angst #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj maybank x pogue!reader #jj maybank x y/n #obx angst #obx imagine #obx fic

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You're getting this a day early this week. For reasons. Mentions and descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of self-harm/attempted suicide. Heavy angst - I promise, it will pep up soon! 😅

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

The sun is on the other side of the sky when you eventually arrive at outpost three.

The pink edges of an early dusk will soon make their way in, dip-dyeing the clouds rolling in puffy plumes above.

Summer evenings have always been beautiful, even before the world turned to shit.

You enjoy the colours; the golds fading into pinks, and then purples as the night would settle in. A pastel kaleidiscope, and you're thankful the sky has remained free of the horrors that taint the ground below it.

It's the only reprieve you have left these days, when you take a moment to gaze up at the stars, enthralled by the infinite beauty of space.

A renegade memory cuts in; Joel's body warming you on the air mattress he'd dragged out into the garden so you could both watch the meteor shower you'd been haranguing him about for weeks.

I don't want to miss it! You'd said, endlessly. There were only a few glimpses of the white, glittery streaks across the sky that night. Mostly because you and Joel were too busy looking at one another instead and talking excitely about the future. Your future, together.

Even though you never actually had one.

You smile with a deep sigh, throwing your head up to the sky as you trot on and Joel catches your wistful eyes.

"What's that look for? " He queries, curiously.

You shake your head smiling. "Nothing."

The day feels like it's dragged on deliberately to torment you, and tiredness weighs heavy on your back and under your eyes.

You follow Joel on his stud up the grassy knolls towards a small looking shack, tucked and nestled out the way that's not so obvious it's there, but gives a good view down into the valley which you’ve spent the last couple of hours riding up languidly.

Once off your horse, you guide the mare into a side stable hidden by the trees and are surprised to find ample hay bales stacked in there.

Joel shuts the paddock fence, “grab that bucket there,” he instructs and you do, following him as he takes the heavy knapsacks from off your horse. You offer to take them, but he shakes his head as he loads himself up and it makes you smile that he's never lost his gentlemanly chilvary.

Even if he's lost everything else.

Joel reaches behind a piece of wood and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and you instantly marvel at the inside.

“This is not what I expected from an outpost,” you say as you look about the place in bewilderment.

There’s a small, ashy stove in the corner with a basket of chopped logs next to it. A singular camper’s cot is along the far wall, with sheets folded on top of it and a threadbare pillow.

A couple of beaten wicker chairs face a large window; most of it is boarded up, save for a small square cut out where the light pools in softly and illuminates the floor by your feet. Dust motes dance in the white beams and you wander over to the view of the valley that’s squashed inside the tiny frame like a grainy Polaroid.

You traipse over to the side room, which is an alcove cut into the wood, to find a hose pipe attached to a slow rusting tap. A crude shower with a curtain hanging up. There's a couple of rough feeling towels on a hook, and a large bowl on the floor, presumably the toilet.

"S'no hot water." He says with a thin line for a mouth.

You turn to Joel shrugging, surprised. “Are all your outposts this fancy?” You quip with a wry grin.

You were expecting a hole in the dirt to squat in for the next five days and not much else. This is a palace in comparison.

A rickety shelving unit houses a few dogeared books, a few battered boxes that you see are old board games on closer inspection. There’s also an array of metal tins, some in various states of peeling and rusting.

“We work in rotations when on the lookout. The guys who were here last would’ve left yesterday, maybe the day before. Gotta leave the place smart n’ tidy for the next shift. Those are the rules.”

“Noted,” you say as Joel takes the metal bucket from you. He's careful not to touch you, you notice. “You’ve been on the lookout before?” Your fingers run over the sniper stand set up by the window.

The floorboards beneath you creak and jostle as you move, and you look down to see one board is loose as you step on it with your boot. You can hear running water from the tap in the alcove as the bucket starts to fill.

“A few times. I mostly get picked for scoutin’ runs.” Joel explains, his head peering out from the alcove at you. “S’what I used to do in the QZ, so guess m’good for it.”

"Are you good at finding things?"

He doesn't answer that.

You bend down and pull the floorboard up and find boxes of bullets and shotgun cartridges in there and baulk. There’s a small radio walkie-talkie too.

“Get ‘em all out,” Joel instructs you, resting the full bucket by the door. “We might be needin’ ‘em. Best have ‘em ready.”

You do and Joel attaches his rifle on the stand, peering through the periscope and places the boxes, you hand up to him, on the small table in between the wicker chairs.

“We switch the radio on once, just before midday, each day. If nothin’ comes through by quarter-past, then all is well.” Joel explains.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to three small clocks on a wonky wooden shelf that tick quietly out of sync. They all read at the same time, differing by a minute or two. A stack of batteries are beside them. “In case one stops,” Joel remarks as he sees you inspecting.

“Industrious.” You nod understanding, and place the radio on the table next to the bullets. “Are all the outposts equipped like this?”

“Pretty much. Each time ya have a shift, ya bring supplies with ya from the commune to top up.”

You nod again as he points at the knapsacks realising that you’ll have less to go back with.

“You want me to take the first watch?” You offer.

Joel shakes his head. “No. I will. But we’ll eat first. Once it’s dark, we can’t use any light. Don’t want no-one or no infected knowin’ we’re here, okay? We keep quiet, keep our heads down. We just wait n’ watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You remark with a salute and Joel grits his teeth.

“You wanna get the stove goin’?” He frowns.

“You’re not gonna cook for me?” You remark with your tongue in your teeth, and he rolls his eyes. “I remember you being a great cook.”

“I ‘member you bein' full of shit.” Joel remarks as he steps over and rifles through the knapsacks, pulling out several cans and handing them to you.

You chuckle, recalling the time when Joel burnt the only dinner he’d ever attempted to cook for you on Valentine’s Day once. Instead, he’d ordered in pizza and then fucked you on his parent’s sofa whilst they were out on a romantic date night of their own.

It was a close call, barely getting your damp panties back on before they came home to two red faces with messy hair trying to look innocent. It was the same night he told you he loved you.

The thought warms your belly momentarily before the snakes strike with their venom again.

You look down at the cans, some dented, some without labels, one is blown and you tell Joel you can't eat it and he nods. You get to preparing some food. It’s a lucky dip as to what it’ll be, but you remain optimistic.

Joel pulls out a tupperware box with some baked bread in it and you groan in surprise.

“Courtesy of Jake.” He says with a little pride blooming in his cheeks.

“Jake?”

“He runs The Tispy Bison. He sees me right.” He tries not to smirk smugly.

“Is that because you’re his dealer or something?” You titter.

Joel baulks. “I might do him some favours when I’m on a run.”

“Mmhm. Is this focaccia?” You gasp, taking the tupperware box, opening it and inhaling the freshly baked scent of flour, rosemary and oils.

“Dunno, s’different each time.”

“Well. Jake might just be my new favourite person.” You say, grinning as the scent of the bread makes your mouth salivate.

“Hm. Next time you can spend five days gettin’ cosy with Jake then.” Joel gruffs, the frown returning, but his mirth still remains.

You watch Joel take the bucket and open the shack door. “Gonna give the horses a drink.”

He closes the door, but not before you catch his dark, chocolate eyes glancing back at you.

Out in the stable, Joel strokes down the mare gently whilst she drinks from the bucket hanging on a tough metal peg.

He loses himself in the feel of her coat for a while, focusing in on that silky smoothness over his rough fingertips and he runs them up and down.

The stallion eats from the corner, chewing as he tugs hay from the bale with big, glassy black eyes.

Joel’s mind wanders from the stable to inside the shack where you are. If he listens real carefully, and presses himself up against the far wall closest to the shack, he could probably hear you clanking about with the pans.

He could probably hear you mutter obscenities at the stove as you struggle to get the wood to catch light. He’d probably rest his large palm against the coarse wood, reaching out as though he was touching you.

God, he wants to touch you so badly. Convince himself that you're real.

He wonders if you would feel it; sense him here, listening to the music of you as it pollutes his head and stuffs up his senses, only but a mere few steps away.

So close, yet so fucking far from his reach.

Joel takes his hand off the wood and steps back; shaking his head and muttering curses of his own to himself for being so damn foolish.

He steps back to the mare who snuffles at him and he gets back to stroking her down. Her large head knocks against his arm and Joel wonders for a moment if it’s her way of telling him to grow a pair and get back in there.

Get back to you.

He calms her with a soothing shush and strokes over her ears, winding the velvet of them gently through his thick fingers as she snuffles again.

“You’re just as sweet as May, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He coos to her and the horse puts her mouth back in the bucket leaving Joel to contemplate and to just think some more.

Thinking has always been his worst enemy, deducing that he probably does it far too much for his own good. Often, the thinking is what talks him out of things, calms the recklessness that used to run in his blood during his wily youth.

Thinking is what stops him from unleashing the ire on a daily basis now. And he’s not sure anymore if that’s a good or bad thing.

He scratches at his temple and his fingers run the familiar pattern of the scar there. It stops all thinking for a moment as his tips notch over the puckered skin.

Just leaves him that stabbing feeling that starts at the bottom of his heart until it eventually takes over his beating muscle and renders him frozen, incapacitated for a few short moments as he remembers raising the gun to his temple in his darkest moment.

Joel wonders why it is that he never died; why it is that he flinched when he pulled the trigger. He should have died a long time ago, should be with Sarah now holding her close and smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair that he misses more than anything in this fucking cruel world.

Joel deduces that thinking probably talked him out of that too. That, somewhere, in the back of his foggy brain that could often chatter insidiously at him for hours - so much so that he had to resort to numbing out the noise with booze and pills just to get some simple shut eye sometimes - a small voice talked him down off that ledge.

But he wonders why it has, every day since. What was the point if not to taunt him with his losses?

He’d said to Ellie that he was glad he hadn’t. And he’d meant it. But Ellie was gone, her time between visits getting longer and he knows it’s because he tried to do right by her, even if it backfired in his face later when she discovered his dishonesty.

That voice that told him to fight for her as he gunned everyone down in that hospital selfishly. Point, shoot. Point, shoot.

The thinking had quelled then, a calm just leaving him to go stoically postal as he pointed and shot at targets; a quiet white noise filling his ears until Ellie was back in his arms and he could hear again.

And now she’s not.

Joel Miller is a loser; he's continually losing the people that matter the most to him. That has to be it, he thinks.

He looks down at his hands; two large paws that are weathered and worn, calloused and rough. Index fingers with split skin and a liver spot here or there that never used to be. Prominent veins that ridge and thumbs that always annoy him with their stubbiness, getting in the way of practicality at times.

Working hands that were once strong and built things, but now tremble and shake uncontrollably at times. Strong hands that fail to be able to hold onto anyone that he cares for anymore. He’d let go of Sarah, he’d let go of Tess. He’d let go of Ellie.

And he had let go of you.

Joel squeezes his fists shut, breathing in through a choke that rasps out at the back of his throat. That shit makes his chest burn and he can’t breathe anymore. It takes his breath from him as he tries to suck in oxygen that he can’t quite catch in the air.

He can feel his blood beginning to boil rapidly with the heat rising within him. Clarity is being lost to him and emotion - savage, raw emotion - is beginning to take hold as it creeps up his spine.

Please, stop.

He puffs in deeply a few times, sinking to his knees and breathing his way through it. Refusing to relent, refusing to let it take him.

But it always does. It’s stronger than him.

He feels it then, as it mutates from anger into sheer blinding panic crippling him in seconds; that all too familiar freezing grip tightening around his ventricles and muscles as he tries to regain his composure that’s stripped from him. He’s reduced to naked, quivering flesh in a matter of seconds.

He tries to remember to breathe as it ices his teeth shut. But all rational thought is swallowed up like it always is. All he can hear is his blood pumping -thump-thump-thump-thump- and then that tiny little voice -thump-thump-thump-thump- that slithers out from the dark again.

You’re dying, the voice says. This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone, Joel.

-Thump-thump-thump-thump-

He grabs at his chest, closing his eyes; hearing nothing but steam rolling through his ears. And for a few moments, he relives his personal Hell over and over.

He’s dizzy, falling forward on all fours as he rides it out; the horses are the only witnesses to his sinking, to his drowning right before them. They can’t save him, no-one can.

The mare brays, calling out to him to come back, but it's swallowed up in the panic as he sinks and flows away.

Once he does come back, when the ice eventually melts and his heart relaxes, he realises he’s still in it. Trapped in a living Hell that relents on and on.

He didn’t die, no - he’s still fucking here.

Joel breathes tightly, feeling the raw scrape in the back of his throat as he sits back on his ankles.

His hands run through his hair that feels matted with sweat, dripping damp around the back of his collar, and he's past the stage where he wants to yank it all out in agony.

It takes him two attempts to stand, cursing at his fucking knee that still pulls tight just to spite him, and once he's upright, he pats the mare on the side assuringly. Her silk anchors him back to reality as he convinces himself that he’s here.

As he turns, Joel sees your shadow moving forward in the doorway; your voice echoing in, and he stops dead, wide eyed.

“...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food anyway these days…” you say, and you eye him carefully noting how paler he looks. “You alright?”

Joel stares at you, wondering if you just witnessed him falling apart, wonders what you’d make of it and searching your eyes frantically for any pity.

He can take you hating him - he wonders if you do, and wouldn't hold it against you, because he hates himself - but he can’t take your pity. That would be the final death of him.

“M’fine.” Joel replies through a swallowed wheeze, and passes you, heading back into the shack.

Nine Years Ago...

It feels soft and it’s a sensation that pulls your attention for a moment. Diverts you out and away from the suffocating void.

It shouldn’t feel like that, surely? Not after all this time. Coarse, hardened, maybe. But not soft.

You watch as he winds the long, soft layers of the clean bandage around your wrist. It hurts less now, the sting. But you’ve been numb for a while.

He tucks it in place, his hands applying light pressure around it as he fires off gentle commands around you. Your mouth is lead, your head is empty. A couple of pairs of eyes hover behind him, their silence deafening.

He instructs them to fetch some more water and he instructs you to drink it, but you don’t. Or at least you can't remember if you do. You look down at your wrist. It feels so soft.

He doesn’t question you. He doesn't look at you to make you feel even more shitty than you already do. He doesn’t feel sorry for you.

He’s just... patient.

He stays with you, night and day. Doesn’t leave your side, which is equal parts infuriating as well as terrifyingly comforting. You loathe him, with every fibre of your being for what he did. For what he does.

For how he keeps you alive and fighting.

He assists you, when you need it most. When you need it intimately, without disgust, without hesitation. Taking a shit is difficult with only one working hand.

You fucked up, cut too deep.

Your wrist aches from the damage to the tendons. Years later you’ll still feel that ache, when it gets cold. When you overexert yourself. A constant reminder of your epic failure. A single finger blessed permanently numb and tingly forever. You envy it.

It'll get better. Give it time, he says. Give it patience. But you have none of those things anymore. Not even pain.

It's all numbed out, washed away.

He holds you whilst you cry, when you try to push him away, when you let out all of that anger, all of that fury onto him in short bursts.

He takes it. He absorbs it. He’ll bruise under his eye, but he takes it from you.

Until you have nothing more to give.

And then you sleep. For days. You wake up in his arms, it’s hot. Stifling. You haven’t showered, maybe in weeks. But he still holds you close, unperturbed by your foul smells.

You’re not even sure when the last time it was that you ate. You’re not even sure where you are anymore. Who you are anymore.

There's more of you, new faces you haven't met yet. Names you can't remember. He tells you them, introduces you as something you're not. You think you smile, agree with him. Reassure them like he does that they're safe now. That you'll protect them.

Days turn into weeks at an incomprehensible blur. Weeks into months, and it’s not until you’re both out with a small group hunting, laying snares for wild rabbits, that you finally talk about it.

“I didn't want to be here, just for this.” You murmur. Anything but this.

Kelper stops and looks at you. “Too late. This is all we have now.”

You walk on, your gun lowered as you trample over dead branches, leaves. Everything is dead now. It's been a harsh winter. Freezing. And you're just so fucking tired of not feeling any of it.

“I can't sanction your inherent stupidity. I can empathise with it.” He says, following behind. “But you don’t get to do that. Not on my watch.”

“You had no right.” You scoff. "It was my choice, not yours."

“Fuck you.”

You stop and turn to him. His eyes are focused, a frown crushes them. Kelper's face is unrecognisable. You've not met this Kelper before.

“Fuck you.” he says again, a growl to his voice. “Don’t be so selfish.”

You shake your head.

“You don’t get to check out. Not when…” He wipes at his face with his palm quickly. “You owe it to yourself to fight. To keep fucking going.”

“There’s nothing left to keep going for. Your delusion is misplaced, Kelper. It always has been.” You murmur.

He steps closer to you. His voice is a soft, muted sigh, expressing a gentle annoyance now for this new found situation. He never gets fully angry and you wonder what it would take to see him implode like a sun. His devastation would be glorious.

“You know that’s not true. That’s the fear talking.” Kelper says and shakes his head. “We endure and we fucking survive. For each other. This world isn’t done with us. It’s chaotic. It fucking hurts, I know it does. It's rotten, right down to the core. But it has more to offer. It's has to..." He sighs.

His eyes water, but he blinks it away quickly. "They need you."

"No they don't." You say.

"I need you, Goose. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you.” Kelper says.

You gulp. Then your lips crash into his. He kisses you back, if but for a weak, selfish moment as a sob escapes you and into his mouth.

It's been so long since you've felt anything warm. And his lips are warm, his tongue. And like a moth to a flame, you want him to burn you alive. Immolate your entire being to ash and dust.

Kelper pushes you back gently as you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, clutching back onto him. Feeling foolish, feeling relieved that you finally feel something again, even if it is embarrassment.

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that.”

Kelper sighs, pulling you into his chest. He wears a ring around his neck. The most delicate, fragile thing about him, with a tiny, blue sapphire embedded into the metal. A symbol of his own fragility and losses.

It pushes against your clavicle and leaves an indent in your skin, long after he pulls away.

You smile, and then a snuffle of laughter escapes your mouth. He laughs too.

“I’m never leaving you. And you’re not ever leaving me, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, hollowing you out from the inside. "I fucking love you, you got that?" He jabs his finger gently onto the side of your skull.

You know its futile to fight it anymore. To resist. His belief is a parasite worming its way in to your gullet and feeding, getting fatter. He's right, this world isn't done. It can't be. Every day that you're alive is a day to make it better. A day to find a purpose, to find hope.

You know these words, the mantras, as you try to pick through and unjumble them again. To see the clarity in them that you know is there. You felt it once before, you can again, right?

To endure and survive, long after this world has changed.

He saved you. Three years later you'd return the favour. And you'd have this conversation again. Only then, you'll believe the conviction behind these words, these ideals, as you tell him, yell at him, what he's just told you, as you keep his lifeforce inside of his skin to fight another day with you.

They need you! I need you, Maverick!

This is how you'll save him. This is how he saves you. This is why you endure and survive.

You nod at Kelper and you both clutch on to one another. “Okay." You breathe.

You run your finger up and down the raised, smooth track of the scar; your sleeve rolled up as you stop stirring the pot of the savoury, and somewhat overbearingly salty, smelling canned meat that’s simmering slowly on the stove.

The skin feels different, it’s healed over, physically. Thicker. Thicker skin. Impenetrable.

It pulls you out of your reverie back to the present day. He’ll be alright. You chant internally. He’ll be fine. It’s five days, get a grip.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of one of the horses braying gently outside, and you stir the contents again, pulling down your sleeve.

You serve up the bread on some chipped plates, breaking some off the loaf between you. You inhale the scents and it takes you back to another life; a life that was simplistic in its mundane joy.

A time when a broken heart was the only thing to fear in the dark.

You realise Joel has been gone for a little while as the stew bubbles sticky in the pan.

“Joel?” You call out gently.

You wander out towards the stable when you get no response, and he hasn’t returned.

You call out to him again en route. “...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food these days…” you say, with a slight mirth clacking around your teeth.

The scents of the stew can be smelt in your hair, your clothes. That and the firewood. Your stomach rumbles, but you’re not sure if it’s from hunger or the fact that it’s been tossed around on an emotional rollercoaster all day.

You stop as you round into the stable and see Joel staring at you, a little wide-eyed and sweaty in his hairline.

“You alright?” You query, eyeing him carefully.

He stares back at you with a peculiar look; some furtive panic swelling around his eyeballs. He seems heavier somehow, like he’s being crushed.

He snaps out of it; the frown returning in its rightful place and then his eyes drop away from yours. He wipes his hands down on the back of his jeans listlessly and steps forward, past you, leaving a cold prickle blooming on your skin.

“M’fine.” Joel replies.

To be continued...

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Thank you for taking the time to read my story; it really means so much to me. I'd love to know your thoughts, and I'd really appreciate a re-blog so others can enjoy this story too. Thank you so much 🖤

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#joel miller #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal joel miller #joel miller fic #five days series #jett's writing #jett's pedro boys

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heaven4lostgirls · 7 months

Text

reconciliation (S.R)

pairing: steve rogers x fem!reader, billy russo x reader implied

warnings: angst, jealousy, kind of toxic?

summary: your conversation with steve has left him reeling to try and get you back, and you've just dropped the biggest blow to his chances of trying to win you back.

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i'm really sorry this took so long to get out, uni has swamped me with work but here i am ig! maybe another update will get out during the weekend? dont hold me to that tho lmao

tags: @blackhawkfanatic , @buckys-wintersoldier , @witchychanel , @nicoline1998enilocin

part 1, part 2, part 3

You weren’t sure what you were expecting after your conversation with Steve if you could even call it that. It had been a couple of weeks and surely but surely you had started warming up to him again, it started with small nods in his direction as a greeting but that soon moved into small conversations. It had been a slow and torturous process for Steve, but he knew just as well as you did that, he was nowhere near even being able to exercise the ability to complain about his situation after what he had put you through.

The real heartbreak hit him when he realised, you’d been looking for apartments and job hunting, for some reason he had assumed that although you no longer joined the avengers for meeting briefings and were off the last few missions, you were just taking a break. Evidently, he was quite wrong, you had been spending your time responding to ‘work-related’ emails regarding a company called Anvil run by Billy Russo.

Now, Steve hardly kept up with any news that was not regarding his position as Captain America and very loosely he kept up with the NFL, so he knew next to nothing about Billy Russo until he was listening to your conversation with Tony in the kitchen.

You had walked in to make your breakfast and just as Steve and you had good morning to one another, Tony strolled through the open door on the phone with Pepper, adamantly in an argument with something to do with Tony’s public appearance at some gala.

“Pep-honey-, yes I understand but-“ Tony rolls his eyes and what Pepper says next and as you make your way to give him some privacy, he holds up his hands to make you wait and as your quirk an eyebrow, you lean against the kitchen counter waiting for the conversation to end. “Fine! Whatever you want! Just please don’t seat me next to that mayor” he pauses “yes! That one! He always smells like cheese” Tony shivers and you and Steve share a quick smile of amusement before you look away with flaming cheeks.

Tony hangs up the call and looks at you with a sly smile.

“Anvil huh?” he asks as he makes his way around you and Steve to the coffee machine, with a quick good morning to Steve, he looks at you expectantly.

“Oh, come off it Stark, I put in my two week notice ages ago, knowing Friday, he probably already told you when I applied” you reply with a joking eyeroll.

An automated voice floods through the system and you nearly jump out of your skin” I would never Miss Y/L/N” you’ve still got to get used to that.

“Anvil?” Steve questions tersely with pursed lips, you can’t tell if it’s out of anger or worry.

“Yeah! It’s a private military firm and since I used to be in the Navy, Billy reached out to me and offered me a position as his personal assistant!” you reply enthusiastically and through your excitement, you fail to notice how Steve’s face falls and Tony’s eyes light up with humour.

“Billy huh?” Steve’s strained smile makes you pause for a second before Tony snorts into his coffee and as you turn to glare at him, he shrugs innocently.

“Yes. Billy. He asked me to call him that because we’ll be working together” you reply curtly and fight the urge to lash out at Steve and let him know he has no right to be jealous because he no longer has anything remotely more than friendship connecting the both of you.

“Doesn’t hurt that he’s good looking either” Tony remarks and yelps as you swiftly throw one of the knives near you towards the cupboards right next to his head.

You shake your head and move to leave the kitchen before you turn around to the both of them and remark “I shall now be going to set up a meeting time with my boss if that’s okay with you two idiots?” you smile sarcastically, and Tony just waves you off.

Steve frowns as he watches you leave with an ugly feeling of jealousy bubbling underneath his skin, he glares at the counter in front of him before his anger is interrupted by Tony’s voice floating through the silent room.

“You know, you were her boss once” he remarks, after he had comforted you as you sobbed in his arms, he had been particularly harsh and unwelcoming to Steve even though you had spoken to him about Steve trying to work whatever your relationship with him was.

“I’m aware” Steve responds as he grits his teeth whilst fighting the urge to break the granite counter under his fingertips. He scoots his chair out as he makes his way to ask Bucky to train with him, he’s got some anger to work out and Bucky is realistically the only person that could handle his full super soldier strength pummeling at them.

You had successfully set a meeting time to go over your contract with Billy with his current personal assistant since she’d be taking her maternity leave in the next couple of weeks. Your mind had kept wondering to Steve’s reaction to you getting a new job, you understood his jealousy all too well since that wasn’t even the beginning of your deep-rooted jealousy and insecurities that affected you by Steve’s relationship with Sharon.

Still, you knew that it was no longer your responsibility to worry about his own emotions and how he coped with them. You no longer felt complied to comfort him whenever you saw his sorrowful longing gaze towards you whenever you walked into a room, or when hurt and pain flashes through his gaze whenever you referred to him as ‘Rogers’ in front of the others.

Meanwhile in the training room, instead of focusing on the hand-to-hand combat Steve had asked Bucky to help him with, he was basically interrogating his friend.

“What do you know about some guy called Billy Russo?” Steve panted as he tried to dodge Bucky’s jabs as he moves swiftly and quickly around the mat.

“Not much mate, just that he’s stinking rich for his age- hey! stop fucking jumping around like a goddamn bunny punk” Bucky huffs out at Steves insistent buoyancy.

“I’m just light on my feet!” Steve defends.

“Yeah, if you were on a fucking bouncy castle” Bucky rolls his eyes and winces as he doesn’t dodge Steve’s punch in time.

“Is he good looking?” Steve asks and Bucky has to pause to look at his friend with a weird expression. Steve just stands there with a serious expression and widens his eyes as if to say go on.

“Sure pal, the dude’s good looking, he was in that fuckin Forbes magazine for Millionaires under 30” Bucky says and watches as Steve loses focus, Bucky aims for his weak spot on his right shoulder and watches as his best friend collapses onto the mat, out of breath.

“What’s with all the questions punk?” Bucky frowns as he holds his hand out for Steve to take and as he pulls him up, he watches as his friend’s winces at the question.

“Y/N is going to work for him” Steve says and Bucky nods with a pitying smile on his face that Steve hates. He doesn’t want pity, he wants to fix this, except he doesn’t know how.

You’ve never looked better the past couple of weeks after yours and Steve’s separation, it’s almost as Steve was constantly sucking the life out of you and now you looked just as good as the first day, he met you.

He hates the idea of you going out into public and working under someone else just for someone to see what he once saw in you, now that he knew that you were unattainable for him at the current time but attainable for people like Billy fuckin Russo made him feel closer to possessive and feral than he’s ever felt.

“Then we’ve got work to do mate” Bucky slaps a hand on his shoulder as he maneuvers him out of, the room, chatting away about a plan to win y/n back. Steve is hardly listening and is planning to kill Billy Russo in 300 different ways before he’s even able to think about having a chance with you.

#juliwrites #mcu #marvel #billy russo #billy russo x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers hurt #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers hurt/comfort #steve rogers #tony stark #billy russo fanfic #biilly russo imagine

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vantedaes · 9 months

Text

Not shy! 1/5 (Leon x F!Reader)

Author: @vantedaes Editor: @141s-chewtoy Pairing: Leon S Kennedy x fem reader! Word count: 2.350k Tags/Warnings: MDNI (+18) age gap, Banter, pining, romance, flirting, shy (introverted :p) reader, fluff, miscommunication, eventual smut, maybe slow burn? we'll see.

Summary: 1/5 When senior agent Leon Kennedy joined your unit the last thing you were expecting is for him to pay any attention to you let alone make you his partner, you, the outcast, shy, and officer rookie from the whole unit.

And it wouldn't be a problem if he didn't find pleasure in driving you crazy.

A/N: So here we at with my first fanfic in a long ass time (Also my first one in English be nice it's not my first language!) So i just wanted to make a wholesome banter with Death island Leon in mind! there will be eventual smut but later so buckle up to some old slow burn.

Thanks to my girl, the one, the only, the QUEEN: @141s-chewtoy for editing this nonsense and making it better and greater, ilysm bestie.

✩｡:•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•:｡✩✩｡:•.───── ❁ ❁ ─────.•:｡✩

When you first met Leon you thought he would never even grant a glance at you.

As an officer researcher rookie, you were usually picked on and the spot of jokes from your whole department, it didn’t help you were the first woman to achieve that high-ranking position. It should mean you receive respect from others, right? Well apparently not, and you knew that it was partly your fault, you’ve always been introverted and also maybe kind of a pushover.

So maybe being the target of jokes from the whole station and also having no other friends than the lunch lady —Sandy, god bless her heart, and her delicious croquettes—, was enough to make you invisible, and you were fine with that, mostly, it helped you not attract too much-unwanted attention which you hated but it also made you the odd one out that you also hated, but in the scale of things you’d rather be the quiet girl of the unit.

Therefore you didn’t even make an effort to leave your office when everyone was running laps because the great senior agent Leon Kennedy was coming down the department.

You figured that he was another know-it-all dickhead, that would only come to you to shove your face in his big achievements and how he single handedly saved the president’s daughter and some many other stuff, cause yes you did peek at his file —What? you have access to it, you were the intel and researcher of the unit, and you had to— Suuure, he was jaw-dropping gorgeous to say the very least but that was not the reason you sought shelter in your office, no, you just knew he had to be a fucking asshole like all the others you worked with.

Of course, you couldn't hide forever, as much as you wanted to. Eventually, you had to face the man of the hour and oh boy you were nervous… you were so nervous that Sandy had to give you a pep talk for you to just do your job

“Girl I know he’s hotter than the Sahara desert but you can’t just miss out on your job! the guy’s been asking for the researcher for days now he thinks you’re a slacker.”

“I’m not hiding because he’s hot! I’m just…scared he’s an egocentric idiot.”

Sandy gave you the most ‘you think I believe an ounce of that?’ look she had ever given to you.

“For sure honey and that’s why you have been eating in the kitchen and actively avoiding your work that you never do cause you practically breathe for this job.”

Ugh, you hated how right she was and how much she knows you.

“Whatever. It’s not because he’s hot, I’m just…busy with personal stuff.”

Oh, the way she scoffed was nothing amicable.

“Riiight, busy thirsting over the guy! I've seen the way you cling to his file, you ain’t fooling anybody and you’re sure as hell not fooling me so woman up and face him once and for all.”

You sucked in a breath and shook your head. You knew she was mostly right, you just couldn’t avoid your work so you had to face him sooner than later… but it wasn’t because you were attracted, no, you just didn’t want to lose your time with the insufferable prick he surely was.

It was an especially bad Friday morning when you sensed something off, could it be the fact that your coffee wasn't as warm as you usually prefer it? Or the way everyone was staring at you as you made your way to your office? Sure, you’d been coexisting with these idiots long enough to just ignore their shit but this morning they were drilling your head in with the intensity of their staring and whispering.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask what the fuck the problem was but you soon regretted not doing so.

Because at the other side of your private office was no other than agent Leon S. Kennedy sitting on your desk and examining your files in excruciating detail —making a total mess. You were frozen at your own door, your hand still on the handle and a part of you wanted to close the door and run away but, that wouldn't be so professional on your part and also he already had his cold blue eyes on you and, oh fuck you felt yourself trembling and clinging to your almond latte cause the pictures and the videos didn't do the man justice… He was even hotter —and wider— in person.

Regardless, you tried to maintain your calm and remain professional. This was your space of work and how dare he just intrude in your office! Sure you were avoiding convening with him and that was part of your job, but still! Wasn’t this a bit too much? And how did he even get into your office? You always closed it with a key, a key you and only you—oh, fucking Sandy!

You could only snap out of your internal conflict when he called your name with that smokey-ass voice that made you weak on the knees.

“I hope you don’t mind me barging in like this,”

Was he for real? Of fucking course you fucking minded but of course you couldn’t gather yourself to say or do anything but just look blankly at him.

“It was the only way I could find time for us to meet since you kept avoiding me.”

Fuck. How did he realize that? And why did he look so amused by it? God, you knew he had to be a prick, and worst of all, and breathtaking prick.

Well, you ought to speak up for yourself because the silence was flooding the room and it wouldn’t help your case just to stay quiet and wait for him to leave.

“Agent Kennedy, what a pleasant surprise,” You uttered in a breathy tone, still without the strength to actually step inside. Leon raised an eyebrow and cocked a smile that just made you even more annoyed.

Before he could even speak, you continued: “Sorry for the delay in our meeting, I’ve been busy with personal errands.”

Ugh, at least you were good at being professional-ish.

Leon's eyes were full of something between total disbelief and something else you couldn’t really place.

Your heart almost crawled out of your chest when he approached you, so incredibly close to where you were standing as still as a damn statue. You could do nothing whatsoever as his huge physique came so fucking close to you and you almost felt like fainting when his arm reached behind you to just close the damn door. However, judging by the smug grin he had on his lips, he knew exactly what he was doing.

Your eyes were fixated on his huge chest and the veins on his neck, your nostrils absorbing the delicious scent of cologne and something citric… Dear god, this man was a danger walking.

You could only breathe again when he finally gave you personal space.

“Sorry, don’t like the ogling eyes.”

He said smoothly, returning to your messed-up desk. You were at a loss for words as you tried to regain some confidence to answer him. He had some nerve to keep meddling in your stuff and— wait, was he holding the file you had on him?

“Hey! Keep your nose out of my stuff!”

Well, that was out of character for you, the way you snatched the folder out of his pretty hands like a toddler wanting their toy back. The coffee —that by this point was cold —in your other hand almost spilled on your carpeted floor.

You just tugged the file with your hand while he looked at you in surprise, clearing your throat and taking a step back. Now you probably needed to explain why you had a really specific file of him on your desk in the first place…

One that looked like it was thoroughly reviewed over and over again, and also had many pictures of him…

At least the look in his eyes —which were still full of amusement — prompted some explanation.

“What? I’m the researcher, I needed to know who you were before the meeting,”

As if anyone could believe that, he certainly didn’t, but god knows you were going to cling to your lie like it was the truest truth ever.

“When they told me you were shy I wasn’t expecting this.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes, trying to move freely in your space around him. You carefully saved his file on your cabinet and just threw the fucking cold coffee in the trash, it was ruined anyway.

“Not shy, introverted.” You corrected, trying to get behind your desk. He looked at you still with a smug grin on his lips, he was enjoying making you nervous and annoyed.

Before he could make another clever remark, you stopped him.

“Listen Agent Kennedy, I would appreciate it if in the future —”

“Call me Leon.”

What?

“I’m sorry?”

“You have nothing to apologize for, please call me Leon.”

Oh but wasn’t he just a fucking smooth operator.

“Listen, Leon,” Oh your patience was running thin, and it wasn’t helping that he kept looking at you with that smug grin and those huge arms —like seriously, huge — crossed, just owning your personal space like it was nothing.

“Right now I don’t have any time for you, so I would appreciate it if in the future you don’t just break into my office.”

Firm, professional, you felt proud of how you handled it. Cause right now you just really wanted to erase that smug expression from his face with a slap. Of course, he could be a real smoke show but he was just getting on your nerves with all his…all of him, really.

Nevertheless, he continued to just sit on your desk giving zero fucks about how much you wanted him gone. Clearly he was having a great time making you uncomfortable and maybe a little flustered. It wasn't like you to yell or have a bad attitude towards anyone really, but you were having a hard time remaining cool in front of this smug man who kept meddling in your papers!

"Do you mind?!"

You said almost in a yell. Leon giggled, looking at you innocently.

"I don't mind at all."

You opened your mouth in disbelief, he was just toying with you now.

"Listen kitten— Can I call you kitten?"

"No, you may not!"

Now you were sure you were red as a tomato.

"So, kitten, I understand your annoyance but I think we’re even, given your very specific investigation about me I could say that we both broke personal boundaries.”

You were speechless, he was somehow right but clearly, you were not going to give him the satisfaction of agreeing with him. He was the one who broke into your office and he was the one who’s all in your personal space. How dare he compare your innocent file of everything you could find of him with this? Pfft, you did nothing wrong.

“Now that we are somewhat acquainted, there should not be any problem with us working together.” He leaned in and you felt your breath catch in your throat, “Closely, together.”

What now?

Leon kept staring at you, scanning your every reaction, almost savoring your internal struggles like he could read them completely.

“Wh—What do you mean?” You asked in a tremulous voice.

Something in Leon’s eyes flickered as he bit his lower lip and almost suppressed a chuckle.

“You know, because you’re the best researcher and the first line of intel it makes sense that we work alongside one another.”

Ok, you were having an actual breakdown and it showed. What did he mean about that? Well, you knew what he meant but like what did he really mean? That you were going to have to see him every day? You could barely bear this unexpected intrusion and now he's telling you that you're going to be working partners? You didn’t do partners, you worked alone, you researched and informed the headquarters and that was it.

Leon kept looking at you with his head slightly tilted to the side, clearly enjoying your reaction. You sucked in a breath, trying to collect yourself.

“Is it really necessary?”

And it was the only thing you thought to ask, you knew Leon was there to join your unit and it did make sense what he was saying but a part of you just wanted it to be a lie. You didn’t know how much you could bear having someone like him all over you at all times, the thought of it just made you…quiver.

And no, it wasn’t because he was incredibly hot and unbelievably gorgeous, no, it wasn’t because his mere presence made your heart race and your insides burn and of course, it wasn’t because the sound of his voice and that stupid grin and the way he just called you kitten made your panties soaked in a fucking second.

Fuck, you couldn’t be thinking of that when he was still right in front of you like a fucking predator smelling how aroused his little victim was…

Ok, you really needed to stop now.

Leon chuckled, “Don’t worry, I won’t bother you too much, kitten.”

That fucking nickname again, your panties were as soaked as they could get.

“Stop calling me that.”

You tried to sound more serious than strangled but failed completely, Leon cracked another one of his fucking smirks and you felt the heat in your body increase, god, you weren’t sure if he annoyed you as much as he turned you on.

God no, he just annoyed you, that’s all.

“Why? It fits you perfectly, a shy kitten.”

Oh god, you could kill him.

“I’m not shy. I’m introverted!” You exclaimed, feeling your face burning up, “And certainly not a kitten!”

Sandy better fucking get her hands ready making you all the croquettes you wanted, she owes you one after this.

#leon kennedy #infinite darkness leon #death island leon #leon x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy #resident evil #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fluff #resident evil fic #resident evil fandom #leon scott kennedy #resident evil leon #leon resident evil #re6 leon #vendetta leon #resident evil vendetta

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bit-dodgy-innit · 2 years

Text

The Magic Touch

Summary: Jake likes to take care of his wife who takes such good care of their newborn daughter. Set in THE SHAPE OF YOU verse

Pairing: Jake x afab!Reader, with some minor Steven x afab!Reader and implied Marc x afab!Reader. Reader is married to the system and all three alters are no longer working for Khonshu

Rating: Tré Explicit, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2.8k

TW/CW: Heavy breast and nipple play, lactation kink, p in v sex, fingering, dirty talk, a little mutual masturbation, softdom!Jake, use of the term Papi, a smidge of spanking, mirror sex/exhibitionism between alters (?), cumshot, mentions of smoking and light bickering between a married couple. Also Reader & Jake speak a decent amount of Spanish/Spanglish with each other, translations for everything will be at the bottom of the fic!

A/N:...this fic could also be titled “A Return to Filth”. Honestly y’all some of the stuff in here surprised ME 😳 That being said, THANK SO EFFING MUCH to everyone who asked to be tagged in this and the just constant, unexpected stream of support and praise I’ve received since I posed the Shape of You!!

“Look who’s up late,” Jake remarked, surprised to see you sitting on the couch with your infant daughter in your arms.

“Someone does not want to sleep tonight,” you replied wearily. The sight of your husband was a relief for your tired eyes. You had barely gotten in a nap today and Nyla had been giving you trouble since sunrise. “How was the gig?”

“Bueno,” he shrugged, taking off his gloves and flat cap. “You know how those rich, fancy fucks are.”

An ambassador and his wife had hired Jake’s company to chauffeur them to and from a state dinner at Buckingham Palace that evening, the reason why he was now just coming in at 2:36 in the morning.

As ghastly as the aristocrats were, they had the potential to be big clients. Like a down payment on a bigger place clients, so he’d insisted on doing the job himself, instead of sending a driver from his roster.

Ever since Nyla was born, Jake had taken on more of a managerial role in his limo company, relying on the network of employees he’d built after he and his alters split ways with Khonshu once and for all. But the ambassador was too valuable a client to lose on the first job, and Jake had always believed “if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

“Mmmm, good,” you replied. “Let’s hope they use you again.”

“Si mami,” Jake agreed.

Nyla began fussing, and Jake wasted no time crossing over to where you and her were curled on the couch. You grimaced, “She’s been like this all day, Jake.”

“Princesa,¿por qué le estás haciendo pasar un mal rato a tu madre?” he scooped your daughter out of your arms and looked at the infant as if she could respond. “Hm?”

“You’ll just make her more fussy,” you told him, your tone tinged with irritation.

“No, no lo haré,” he argued, “porque yo tengo el toque mágico con ella.”

You couldn't help but roll your eyes. Oh, how times had changed. In the past, if Jake had come home late and murmured in Spanish to you about having “the magic touch”, you both would be up until sunrise fucking. Now you feared it would just make your overtired baby more grumpy.

Jake paced around the flat, cooing to Nyla in Spanish, and lo and behold, he did get her to settle down. Perhaps he did have el toque mágico after all. He cocked his head toward Nyla’s nursery, silently communicating that he’d put her in her crib. You nodded, beginning to doze off yourself.

Jake had been uneasy at first around his newborn. It made sense, so much of his existence had been blood and violence, and Nyla was the most precious, fragile being he’d ever known. Yet the nerves melted into his trademark, indefatigable confidence soon enough, you didn’t even need to have a pep talk with him like you did with Marc for Jake to come around. Nyla was his princesa, and you had no doubt that he’d do anything for his little girl just like her other two dads. Although, you guessed Jake’s “anything” was a lot more gruesome than most.

Your husband tiptoed out of the nursery back to where you had slumped into the couch.

“Gracias,” you thanked him, your eyes weighted with exhaustion. He padded over to you. “I forgot how good you looked in uniform.”

Personally, Jake hated the monkey suit high-profile clients required him to wear – that had been one of the perks of working for Khonshu, at least the old bird let him wear street clothes on the job – but if you were into it, he’d make the most of it. “¿Te gusta?”

“Mmmm, si,” you whispered just before your lips met. Jake kissed you gently, as if he was trying to absorb your tiredness and stress.

“How can Papi make you feel better?” he murmured into the skin of your neck. “Mi esposita cuida tan bien de nuestro bebé, quiero cuidarla bien.”

“Jake,” you sighed as he dropped his kisses to your clavicle, just above where you both knew you wanted his mouth.

“You want Papi to suck on your tetas?” he asked, already knowing the answer. “Play with ‘em just how you like it?”

You assented with a whine and emphatic nod of your head. Jake reconnected your lips while you unhooked the cups of your nursing bra, your shirt followed moments later.

Jake’s eyes darkened in the low lamplight of your living room, his dilated pupils turning his irises black and sending a shiver down your spine. He pressed kisses into the tops of each of your full breasts, then drew a line in the valley of your tits with the tip of his nose. His ministrations made your nipples harden.

“Mmm, nice and ready for me,” he laughed lowly before bringing his mouth to one of your peaks.

It had been an hour or so since you’d fed Nyla, so it took a few pulls of Jake’s mouth before any liquid landed on his tongue. Even so, his warm, wet touch felt wonderful around your sensitive bud. A little cry of delight escaped you when your milk began to flow, the vibrations of your husband’s satisfied groan only amplifying your pleasure.

Jake’s hand snaked its way to your other tit. He paused his worship to wet his thumb, then brought the digit to your unoccupied breast and began tracing the circumference of your nipple. Soon you were leaking from that teat as well, an undeniable slickness pooling between your folds while Jake stimulated you exactly how you craved.

“Jake,” you moaned, twining your fingers into his hair then tugging to angle his head up and get his attention. “Bed.”

Another deep groan resonated from your husband’s chest. “You tired?”

Well, yes, you’d been tired since Nyla took her first breath. Before that actually, maybe month six of your pregnancy when your bump really started to grow? Tired was neither here nor there. You wanted to be taken care of. “Want Papi’s cock.”

Jake flashed you a shark-like grin. “Vamos,” he said before throwing you over his shoulder.

“Jake!!” you reprimanded him in the harshest whisper you could make without waking Nyla.

Your husband ignored you, opting to lay you out on the mattress and pull off your incredibly sexy yoga pants. Before you could fidget and try to cover your postpartum body, Jake descended on you.

“I think this other titty needs some love while I get you ready for Papi’s cock, nena,” he murmured before he dove back into your chest.

Your breath hitched at the return of his lips on your boob. He didn’t hold back, vigorously suckling at your peak, flooding his mouth with your milk. Jake being so unashamedly into this made you feel better about this unlikely kink of yours. Maybe you and Steven weren’t complete freaks.

The mix of suction and relief was the most intoxicating combination while Jake lapped at your nipple, alternating his attention between tugs with his lips and drawing stripes with flicks of his tongue.

Meanwhile, he tucked a hand between your legs and began toying with your pussy. He ran his index finger between your folds to part them, then quickly transitioned to using the digits to draw tights circles into your clit. You mewled and Jake pulled off your breast to swallow your noises with his mouth. You two were having too much fun to be interrupted by Nyla.

“Silencio, cariño,” he punctuated his reminder by sliding a finger into your cunt.

“Nnngh,” you grunted, biting your lip to keep the sound from spilling out, “Easy for you to say.”

He winked at you, a gesture that should’ve been infuriating but instead just made you wetter. Jake worked another digit into your pussy while he returned to your bosom, latching onto a peak once again and greedily drinking down everything you had to offer.

“¿Estas lista?” he asked you once his fingers were gliding in and out of your core smoothly.

“Please Papi,” you gasped. Jake stood back up to shed his clothes. You couldn’t help that your own hand snuck down to rub your clit while you watched him undress, he’d worked you up so much.

The last item of clothing to be discarded were Jake’s boxers. He shucked them off and then stood proudly before you, his hands resting on his wide hips, unabashedly displaying his leaking erection.

“Look what you do to me, Señora Lockley,” he rasped, gripping and pumping himself a few times at the sight of you touching yourself.

“Tan grande, amor,” you purred.

He pounced on you at your words, maneuvering you onto your hands and knees. The position shouldn’t have come as much of a shock, it was Jake’s favorite, but you hadn’t been able to do it since early in your second trimester. An extra spark of desire zinged through you at the thought of returning to it.

Your husband guided his cock inside of you, taking it mercifully slowly, since he too knew how long it’d been since he’d been able to fuck you from behind. This wasn’t the first time you’d had penetrative sex since having Nyla, but the initial tenderness was still necessary in your postpartum state. The gentle start made you love Jake even more since he was the king of the rough fuck, which normally, you thoroughly enjoyed.

Once he’d bottomed out and checked on you again, Jake began moving. You’d forgotten how full your husband’s thick dick felt like this. The swaying of your dribbling tits just added another delicious layer of dirtiness to your lovemaking.

Jake knew he could pick up the pace of his thrusts when he felt you pushing back onto his cock. He angled you juuuust so and then unleashed the full force of his hips, fucking you so hard you were nearly knocked down onto your elbows.

You pussy tightened around the hot, hard rod inside of you and keened, “Fuuuuck, Jake, that’s so good.”

“Mmmm yeah,” Jake groaned. “Always take care of you, gonna fuck all the stress out of you.”

You responded with a yip when your husband took hold of both of your hips to piston his cock into your tight channel even more relentlessly.

“Ooooh yeah,” Jake continued to ramble in his sex-addled state, “such a pretty picture you’re making for me. I get to see your big, milky titties swing while you make these cheeks clap for me. Joder, sí, mami.”

Your husband’s filthy words made your cheeks burn and bite your lip as you continued to work your cunt back on his cock. He elicited a squeak from you when he smacked his hand across one of your ass cheeks, enjoying the way your flesh jiggled after he spanked you.

“Steven thinks you look so sexy right now, isn’t that nice?” Jake remarked casually as if he was commenting on the weather and not railing you into next Tuesday.

Your eyes snapped open, and you craned your neck from where it had been hanging between your shoulders. All of your attention had been consumed by Jake playing your body like a violin that you hadn’t noticed he’d positioned you in front of the mirror in your bedroom, but of course he did.

“Th-thank you, huh-honey,” you stuttered out, hoping Steven could hear while Jake continued to pound into you.

The two of you made a thoroughly debauched scene. Your hair was mussed, your lips kiss-swollen and your full, engorged breasts moved in time with each drive of Jake’s length into your sopping cunt.

You could just make out a little pearl of liquid on the tip of your left nipple, both of your puffy peaks still glistening from Jake’s mouth and your milk. Your reflection made you blush more deeply, and you could only imagine that Steven was absolutely losing his shit over the pornographic tableau you and his alter made. You’d have to let Steven try fucking you like this, if you made it out of this round of sex with Jake alive, that was.

Jake withdrew his cock for a moment and next thing you knew, you were on your back again. He swiftly re-entered you, the hammering of his hips so strong it drove you back a few centimeters towards the pillows. Locking your legs around his torso, he dropped onto his forearms and brought his lips to your ear to entreat you, “Come on, let Papi have his leche dulce.”

You complied with a whimper and a clench of your core, your hands coming to cup your tits and squeezing them so milk sprayed from your nipples into Jake’s open, eager mouth. A splash missed his tongue, landing on the corner where your husband’s lips met instead. His tongue quickly darted it out to lick it up and you almost came from the sight alone.

You threw your head back into the blankets, unable to muffle your moans as Jake drove into you.

“Does mamacita want to come?” he asked huskily. Your answer came in a strangled whine.

He complied, replacing his cock with two of his fingers again and recaptured a nipple in your mouth. He stroked your walls, finding your g-spot with practiced ease while his thumb pressed into your clit. Your orgasm seized you in an eruption of pleasure, and thankfully you still had the wherewithal to grab a pillow and smash it into your face to muffle your cries of ecstasy as your husband worked through your blinding, white-hot release.

When your climax had crested and you managed to discard the pillow, you were greeted with the sight of Jake straddling your waist frantically jerking his cock over your tits.

“Ohhh my, shit,” you panted, trying to urge him along, “unnngh, come for me, Papi.”

Your plea pushed your husband over the edge, spurting his seed onto your tits barely a moment later. He peaked with a choked off gasp, needing to brace a hand on the bed frame so he didn’t collapse on top of you.

The haze of lust slowly that had blanketed your mind slowly began to evaporate, and you looked down at the cooling cum splattered across your breasts. You glanced at Jake, who’d flopped onto the mattress next to you. “You’re nasty.”

“You love it,” he retorted without opening his eyes.

“Hmm, I do,” you admitted. “Pero ahora tu esposita necesita una toalla.”

Jake grunted. His legs hadn’t steadied after coming his brains out just yet.

“Rápido, por favor.”

“Alright, alright,” Jake pushed himself upright and lumbered to the en-suite. “I worked all night, bien? Go easy on me.”

And you’d been with your baby all day. As much as you appreciated your husband providing for your family, you couldn’t muster the sympathy he’d hoped for. “Right, because none of that time was spent shooting the shit and smoking with the other drivers.”

“I quit,” he called from the loo.

“I could taste it on you,” you shot back as he walked back into the bedroom. “Be happy I’m tired and you made me come too hard to properly give you shit about it.”

“Mmm, you did come so hard for me nena, didn’t you?” Jake rasped, passing you a damp towel and climbing back on the bed. “Made me spurt all over your tetas.”

Just him saying it caused a little aftershock of arousal to ripple through you. “Between you and Steven I have to make sure there's enough milk left for the baby.”

Jake’s expression turned serious. “Oye, they were our titties first. We’re letting Nyla borrow them.”

Before you could giggle like you wanted to, he kissed you again, licking into your mouth to prove something. “I had two drags of another driver’s cig. It was a social thing, a networking thing. I told you I’d quit when you got pregnant.”

“Good. Because A, it’s bad for you, and B, I get worried about Nyla and all the–”

“Yo sé, yo sé,” he tried to quell your rising concern. “It was stupid of me to do.”

You should’ve pressed him harder on it, but you were helpless to the way he kissed the top of your head and held you in his arms. Maybe times hadn’t changed as much as you thought, you were still letting Jake off the hook after a particularly toe-curling orgasm and whispered bilingual assurances. Which jogged your memory…

“How did you get her to go down, by the way?” you asked, the two of you slipping between the sheets. “What, did you use some residual Egyptian god magic?”

Jake laughed, an undignified snort. “No magic…aparte de mi toque mágico. Besides we don’t need Khonshu or any of them, we have each other, si?”

“Si,” you concurred, snuggling into him. Jake may have a big mouth along with his toque mágico, but at least he knew the right thing to say most of the time and how to use those hands of his.

Read the follow up fic: DROPPING IN

A/N: *clenched teeth emoji* hope everyone enjoyed! I’ll make the next fic softer and fluffier, I promise 🥴 Though I kind of adore the dynamic that emerged between the reader and Jake, they love each other deeply but also give each other shit in the same breath.

Again, thank you thank you THANK YOU for all the encouragement and engagement with this series, my inbox is always open if you have request or thots!

Taglist: @twwcs @rmoonstoner , @hot-mess-express1 , @murdickdocked, @toracainz @saahmi, @unspokenmoon, @winterbiipp @avatarofseshat @ilikeoldermenhelp , @losers-club6, @lovely-cryptid , @stormkobra-5 @johnny-simpfinger

Translations:

Bueno - Good

Si mami - Yes mommy

Princesa, ¿por qué le estás haciendo pasar un mal rato a tu madre? - Princess, why are you giving your mother a hard time?

No, no lo haré...porque yo tengo el toque mágico con ella - No, I will not...because I have the magic touch with her

Gracias - Thank you

Te gusta - You like it?

Mi esposita cuida tan bien de nuestro bebé, quiero cuidarla bien - My little wife takes such good care of our baby, I want to take good care of her.

tetas - tits

Vamos - Let’s go

nena - baby/babe

Silencio, cariño - Quiet, honey

¿Estas lista? - Are you ready?

Tan grande, amor - so big, love

Joder, sí, mami - Fuck yeah, mommy

leche dulce - sweet milk

Pero ahora tu esposita necesita una toalla - But now your little wife needs a towel.

Rápido por favor - Quickly please

Bien - Okay

Oye - Here

Yo sé - I know

aparte de mi toque mágico - other than my magic touch

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growup-thatbeautiful · 10 months

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I love all your fics!!!! I wondering if I could please request imagine (Triple Frontier) Ben Miller x shy girlfriend reader and both your infant son is mommy boy. Pretty adorable like every single day walking around the building, waiting for Ben or after the MMA fights, being both his good luck charms 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

A/n: you’re a genius, lovely! this is post-canon so i don’t have to deal with tom :) also, i spent so much time choosing the gif because i kept getting distracted about how pretty they are (the tf boys and the gifs)

Warnings: none :) reader has a kid, so if that’s not your thing don’t read!

triple frontier masterlist

Good Luck Charm

The brick wall of the gym hallway is cool against your shoulder from where you’re leaning against it. The smell of clean linoleum and the hum of the fluorescents above you provide a timeless cocoon for the sleeping bundle in your arms to nuzzle in closer to your chest.

“Good morning, Jules,” you coo softly when the bundle opens his eyes. “Have a good nap?” You get a bleary-eyed stare in response. Julian, named after Benny’s mom Julia, slowly blinks at you before spitting out his pacifier, spit following behind.

“Baby, why’d you do that?” you ask him. “You want your paci.” Sure enough, his face starts to turn red and you see his throat work up an upset whimper. Before he can start to fuss to much, though, you press the pacifier back into his mouth. Contentment settles on his face and his eyes slide back closed.

Distantly, you can hear the yelling crowd from the gym, and you don’t know how Jules is sleeping at all. The crowd is larger than normal on account of the sizable opponent Benny is fighting, hence the reason you’re waiting in the hallway instead of watching the fight.

You used to watch all of his matches when you where dating- you couldn’t get enough of the thrill of watching your Benny up on that platform, fighting with all of his strength to win. But, as you got more attached to him, it got harder to watch him take punches, especially when you had Julian.

Even if you aren’t in the room, it doesn’t stop you from thinking about Benny. The fight hasn’t started yet, which means that he’s probably in the locker room down the hall getting hyped up by the guys. As clear as if he was right in front of you, you see him wrap his hands carefully with bandages and gloves, his wedding band around a cord on his neck that holds his dog tags.

Will’s probably giving him some sort of pep talk with Santiago tagging on any information he deems helpful, which usually isn’t. Frankie, quiet and composed, os sitting on the bench, sizing up the opponent and searching for any weaknesses. They make quiet the group of men together. All there for Benny, even though none of them have to do this anymore.

When the crowd’s cheers grow louder, you know Benny’s made his way into the gym. Your husband’s always been a town favorite, and tonight there’s some sort of special opponent that he’s facing. You try not to learn all of the details- they usually make you too nervous. Benny knows not to tell you anything the same way you know not to ask questions when you patch him up. Blood, after being with him for so long, isn’t a problem for you anymore.

From somewhere down the hall, a voice calls your name. You could recognize that voice from anywhere, and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway then the loud, expletive-filled Spanish greeting gives him away before you can turn around and tell him that Julian’s asleep. Santiago wraps his arms around you, careful of Julian, and greets you warmly. “Hola, mija. How’s the kid?”

“Trying to sleep,” you respond without any malice at all. “No thanks to you.” He at least looks a little bit ashamed, but that clears away from his face as soon as Frankie steps next to him.

“Jesus, Pope, could you be any louder?” Frankie says, patting you roughly on the shoulder with a grin. “You think you would learn how to be around kids after all this time, ¿eh cabròn?”

“Thanks, Frank.” Santi’s voice is dripping with its usual sarcasm and sass, but all of you are used to it by now. 99% of what Santi says can be taken with a grain of salt.

In the gym, Benny’s name is announced over the loudspeaker and the lights start flashing rapidly. “I guess that’s your que to go,” you say. “Wouldn’t want you to miss anything.”

“Can we convince you to join us?” Frankie asks. Because it’s Frankie, you know he means the offer. If you asked him, he would take care of Julian while you went to see Benny, and you would trust him fully to do so. After two of his own kids, Frankie knows how to take care of all kinds of disasters, and you know his gentleness applies to anyone he considers family.

But you just don’t think that you watching is a good idea. “Nah, it’s okay, Frankie. Maybe next time.” Both of you know you’ll say the exact same thing next time too, but you always appreciate the offer.

With a knowing look, Frankie nods and leads Santiago down the hall with him into the crowded, hazy gym. You turn your attention back to Julian, who looks content in his dinosaur onesie. It was a gift from Will, and Benny wanted Julian to show support for his uncles.

The rest of the fight passes in a the crowds oohs and aahs and you can only pay so much attention to it before it starts to make you too anxious. Realistically, you know Benny can handle whoever it is he’s fighting. You heard accidentally that there’s a pound difference between them, but Benny’s fast for someone his size and you know that he can his own. Plus, he’s got a hearty amount of backup in case something goes wrong. The worst you’ve ever had to patch up in a long is a bloody nose or bruised ribs, and even then Benny usually knows how to take care of himself more than you do.

Eventually, you hear the triumphant roars reach a crescendo and the announcer calls out Benny as the winner. Pride fills your chest as you whisper to Julian. “Daddy won his fight, Jules. Just like we told him to.” Julian, waking up due to the raised noise levels, looks at you through squinted blue eyes just like his father’s.

As people trickle past you through the back exit, you make your way into the locker room where you know Benny and the guys will be as soon as Benny’s cleared by the unofficial doctor on site. It must not have been close at all because they show up after only a few minutes, cheering and yelling their way through the door.

When Benny sees you, a grin lights up his face, as if it’s a surprise to see you there. Like you would ever miss a fight.

With one strong arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you in to a bruising kiss. “Honey,” he mutters against your lips, “I think you might be my good luck charm.”

Even after all these years, your heart still swells at his words, at the idea of Benny being just as enamored with you as you are with him. “I think Julian might be part of it too.”

With a grin, Benny looks down at the baby between you. “Hey, bud,” he greets, two sandy blond-haired heads looking at each other. While you’re the one who can seemingly always get Jules to sleep, Benny always wakes him up. Luckily, though, Julian is usually happy when he sees Benny. You can’t blame him. “How was your day with mama?”

“He had a rough day at school,” you explain softly to Benny, looking at Julian. “Apparently he was fussy.”

Benny scoffs and carefully takes Julian when you offer him. If it was anyone else covered in sweat and blood, you would say no, but you know Benny’s at least washed his hands. “My baby? Never. He’s an angel.”

“Sure, honey,” you respond, happy to see the twinkle in Benny’s eye. He may not agree, but you know there’s nothing that makes him in a better mood than winning and having his family there. “How was the fight?”

Benny’s grin spreads across his face and takes on a confidence that you usually don’t see outside of your home. “Not even close. He didn’t see a fuckin’ thing coming.”

“Benny,” you sigh, gesturing to Julian. “I’ll let it slide because you just won.”

“Good luck getting Pope to stop. His favorite words aren’t appropriate for kids,” Benny says in return, but you know he’s trying. His language is already better than it used to be. “Isn’t that right, Jules?”

Jules responds with a happy noise, one that just makes Benny’s grin even wider. You can’t help but appreciate the sight before you; your two beaming boys with each other, your family together.

Yeah, you’re going to keep coming to his fights. Maybe your his good luck charm, maybe you’re not, but nothing could possibly stop you from seeing Benny like this.

Happy. Content. Loved.

“Come here, honey,” Benny calls to you, and who are you to say no. Carefully, you let yourself be wrapped in Benny’s arms, your head on the warm muscle of his shoulder. “Thanks for coming tonight.”

“Of course,” you whisper. “We’re your good luck charms, right?”

“Absolutely,” he agrees. You ignore the whistling and cheering of Santi and Frankie and the over-exaggerated gagging of Will. “Nothin’ like you, sweetheart. Or you-” he looks down at Julia “-bud.”

You can’t help but agree.

#i’ve been talking with my friends about how much i want kids recently so this is perfect nonnie <3 #nova answers #this is adorable #triple frontier #benny miller #benjamin miller #ben miller #benny miller fanfic #benny miller x female reader #benny miller fic #benny miller x reader #benny miller fanfiction #benny miller x you #benny miller x y/n #benjamin miller x you #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fic #triple frontier boys

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igncrxntripley · 1 year

Note

Im OBSESSED with Damian and Rhea at the moment how about some headcannons of either of them meeting readers parents and being all worried about it but them actually loving them😊

damian priest headcanons: meeting the parents

a/n: literally anything for u ily so much

tags: SFW

after being together for quite some time, you brought up the idea of meeting your parents to your boyfriend damian.

for someone as big and bough as him, you'd never seen damian so nervous.

"baby, what if they don't like me? do they know what i do for work? are they okay with tattoos?"

you assured him that they wouldn't care about his job, they just wanted you to be taken care of and to be with someone who loved you.

your parents planned to have you come over with damian and they were going to make dinner - you could've sworn they were more nervous than damian was.

"what does he like to eat, honey? should we get anything special to drink? does he have any dessert requests?"

you're spending the next week assuring both your parents AND damian that everything will be fine; all of them being nervous is making you nervous.

the day finally arrives, and damian is going through every outfit in the closet to find something that will impress your parents.

"my love, there's no reason to wear a suit for my parents. i can guarantee my dad will be in a t-shirt and slippers."

you settled on damian wearing a nice shirt with his leather jacket and some jeans; he needed to just be himself, because you knew your parents would love him for him and not for someone he was pretending to be.

the entire drive to see your parents is spent giving damian a pep talk. he has an iron grip on your hand, and you swear you can see the sweat forming on his head.

as soon as you get to the house, your mom opens the door and greets both you and damian; you can't even get a word out to introduce him before your mom speaks up.

"you must be luis! it's so nice to finally meet you!"

your mom is hugging damian, and as soon as she does so you can see the stress slowly melting off of your boyfriend.

your dad is the next to greet everyone once you go inside; he exchanges a firm handshake with your boyfriend and takes his jacket, and he's already starting conversation about damian's tattoos.

dinner goes off without a hitch; damian took your advice and was just himself, and your parents absolutely love him. he's getting along great with your dad as they talk music and wrestling, and your mom is in love with him and thinks he's a sweetheart.

when it comes time to leave and you give your parents a hug goodbye, they both repeat the same things in your ear.

"he's a keeper, sweetheart."

your dad shakes damian's hand as well and smiles at him - "you better take care of them for us."

once you get out to the car with damian, you smile at him and kiss his knuckles before giving him the only response you can think of.

"i told you so."

#wwe x reader #wwe imagine #wwe damian priest #damian priest #damian preist imagine #damian priest headcanons #damian priest x reader #wwe headcanons

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atlabeth · 2 years

Text

(not so) simple pt2 - anthony bridgerton

pt 1 pt 3 pt4

summary: coercing lord bridgerton into pretending to court you to avoid the affections of a baron is very simple — that is, until it isn't.

a/n: okayyy attempt no2 in trying to get this thing to show up in tags lol. i worked way too hard on this for it to just be invisible and idk what word i used that tumblr doesnt like but im gonna try again lmao (thank u naomi for the advice)

im gonna keep the other one for now so there's just gonna be two versions of this floating around for a lil lol. hopefully this works

wc: 7.1k

warning(s): historical inaccuracies, basically all fluff

Anthony had a surprising pep in his step as he returned to his estate. Promenading around the marketplace with you was… nice. He had to admit it. The reticule he’d selected for you went perfectly with your dress—another thing he had to admit, you looked quite lovely in blue.

He blinked a few times. This ruse was already getting to his head.

But as nice as the promenade was, it was certainly not in his schedule, and so once he passed through into his estate with nods of greeting to the doormen, he had the intent of heading straight to his office. He was not given the chance, though, when he saw his mother coming down the stairs. Anthony had the briefest thought of avoiding her, but only one look at her showed that he would not get the chance even if he wanted it.

“You were gone quite early today, Anthony,” she said with a slight smile, folding her hands in front of her as she stopped in front of him. “I don’t suppose this has anything to do with Miss Worthing.”

“And if it does?” he asked offhandedly.

“Then I am very proud of you,” Violet said. “If Miss Y/N will make you happy, then I see no reason for you not to pursue her. She is a lovely lady with an amiable family—it is all the better that we are already good friends.”

Anthony hummed in acknowledgment. He almost wished his mother did not approve of you so — he did not know if he would have the heart to explain to her the reality of their situation once the two of you parted ways.

“Is there anything else you would like to tell me?” she asked, and though her tone was pointedly innocent, Anthony was well aware she wanted to fish for anything she could find.

“We enjoyed a lovely promenade this morning,” Anthony said, “that is all. And as much as I am enjoying this interrogation, there is work I must attend to.”

She gave him a knowing smile as she bowed her head. “Of course, dearest. Enjoy the rest of your morning. Just do not forget to break your fast.”

He nodded back at her politely before he continued on to his office. When he opened the door, though, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Anthony!” Eloise popped up from her seat—her smile was inviting, but all the years of living with her had taught Anthony that, in the case of his dearest sister, appearances were often deceiving.

“Eloise,” he said stiffly, trying to hide his obvious shock at his sister’s appearance to avoid any teasing as he walked behind his desk, gathering some papers and stacking them just to give his hands something to do, “may I ask what you are doing in here?”

“You may,” she said as she placed her hands on the top of the chair, “but only if I am allowed to ask a question of my own.”

“Do I even want to know?” he asked dryly.

She did not give him the opportunity to back out. “I am here because you have decided to court my best friend. Which leads into my question—why, for the love of all that is good, have you decided to court my best friend?”

Anthony laughed and shook his head. “So that is what this is about? I am courting Miss Worthing because I am a man in need of a wife and she is a woman in need of a husband. Is that simple enough for you?”

Eloise shook her head. “Explain to me, brother, in true form, why you have decided to take away my best friend in quite possibly the worst way.”

Anthony frowned. “I do not see how I have taken her away from you.”

“You are courting her!” she exclaimed, “you are to marry her! Anthony, you are going to marry my best friend! That is the most horrid thing I have ever heard of!”

“I am not forcing her into a marriage, Eloise,” Anthony said. “Have you considered that she is the one that approached me in the first place?”

Eloise scoffed. “She would never do such an ill minded thing. And frankly, I cannot see why you would engage in activity like this, with her of all women! Not even a day earlier we were airing our frustrations at the very concept of marriage, all the while you could not cease your ranting of her apparent misgivings, and now you are not only courting her, but she is allowing you to do so willingly?” She threw up her hands in disbelief. “It is unforeseeable!”

“Unfor— unforeseeable?” Anthony could not help but laugh at his sister’s dramatics. “Eloise, is my courting of Miss Worthing truly that strange? She is the sole child of one of the ton’s poorer families, and she is rapidly approaching spinster age. Perhaps she has finally realized her views will not help her family and this is her attempt to make amends before it is too late.”

Eloise shook her head as she finally sat down. “You do not know Y/N like I do, dearest brother. We were due to meet for a promenade of our own tomorrow, but if she is so capable of providing you with one, then I assume she is more than willing to indulge my presence this morning instead.”

“Eloise—” Anthony started, and she looked at him with raised brows as he rapidly stood up from his desk, nearly poised to lunge over the thing.

“Such athletics,” she remarked, and he huffed.

Anthony walked around his desk to the door and glanced outside to ensure their privacy, and then he shut it behind him. Though all of their employees were loyal and trustworthy, he was well aware of what insidious gossips some of the staff could be when they had something good enough in their hands. “If I am to inform you of… further knowledge, you must promise not to speak a word of it to anyone.”

Eloise could barely manage to hide her excitement. “So there is something you are not telling me!”

He sighed deeply and pressed a hand to his forehead. “It is not… a true courtship, in a matter of words. She wanted to avoid a betrothal to Lord Cardew, and so she approached me that night and all but begged me to act as her courter. I agreed, and we are now each other’s fake partners for our own benefit. We both get to dodge any suitors that may come our way, and we will part from each other at the end of the season as spinster and rake alike.”

Her eyes widened. “You must be joking.”

Anthony shook his head. “Regretfully, I am not. What possessed me to accept her offer the other night I am not quite sure, but regardless of it all, we are bound to each other for the length of the season.”

“But it is nothing more than a scheme,” she said, “right?”

“Yes,” he assured. “There is nothing between us, and we are certainly not to be wed. You need not worry.”

Eloise sighed. “Anthony Bridgerton, I do not think I will ever understand what goes on in your mind.”

He offered a thin smile. “Nor I, sister. But now that you know something with quite a bit of weight—”

“I will not repeat a word,” she confirmed with a nod. “You needn’t worry. But, ah—” Eloise gave him a coy smile— “you will need to worry about nearly every other thing. We are such close friends for a reason.”

Anthony simply sighed. “You are truly skilled at lifting spirits.”

“I know,” she said happily.

And as Eloise turned to leave, she stopped by the door, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know, brother—I think I will enjoy this season after all.”

Anthony sat back down as he rubbed his hand against his forehead, heaving another labored sigh. It was hardly even past the time to break his fast and he was already exhausted.

When even Eloise was on board with this horrible idea solely for her own enjoyment of a surely sinking ship, he knew he was certainly in for something.

You did not think you would ever truly get used to this.

You may have despised the season, the ton, and everything it stood for, but that did not mean you were immune to marveling at the riches of your peers. The Kennington estate was far grander than you could have ever imagined, and though you despised it, you could not help the streak of jealousy that ran through you at the sight — perhaps if your family were blessed with riches of this sort, you would not be depended on so heavily to find a husband.

Nevertheless, you were expected to be at the ball, which Lady Kennington had decreed an event that absolutely could not be missed. After her daughter had been chosen as the season’s diamond by word of the queen, she had gained a bit of an ego. It was no surprise, then, that the party was something so extravagant.

When you arrived, men and women were twirling across the dance floor together, their movements fluid as water. Musicians sat together off to the side, stringed instruments played in perfect harmony, and of course, in the midst of it all, members of the ton stood, watching and gossiping.

You inhaled deeply and let it out slowly, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you before anything had even taken place. With the exuberance of it all, it was difficult not to be overwhelmed, but knowing you had the protection of Anthony’s courtship eased your worries the slightest bit. While an overly pushy suitor may not have listened to you, they would certainly listen to the Viscount Bridgerton.

It was as if the universe were capable of reading your mind—the moment you thought of Anthony, your mother was leaning to whisper in your ear.

“The Viscount and Lady Bridgerton are coming this way,” she murmured. “Please, do not act out in front of your future mother-in-law.”

“Mother-in-law—!” you began to protest, but you were unable to get any more out as a wide smile took over your mother’s features, and she jabbed you lightly with her shoulder to force your posture to straighten.

“Lady Bridgerton!” she exclaimed as they stopped in front of the two of you—Anthony bowed as a courtesy, and it was an effort to hide your amusement. “Viscount Bridgerton! How wonderful it is to see the two of you. Violet, you look just as lovely as ever.”

“You are too kind,” Violet said with a smile. “It is just as good to see you as well, Cecilia. And my dear,” she looked to you, “you are a sure sight to see! I can hardly believe you’ve debuted—it seemed only yesterday you and Eloise were playing together in the drawing room.”

You smiled at the memory. Conversation with the Bridgertons had always been pleasant—your ruse did not need to change that. “Thank you, Lady Bridgerton. I admit that I certainly miss those days, before all the responsibilities of a debut. Though I cannot say that my visits with Eloise will cease anytime soon.”

“And I do not expect them to—we enjoy your company far too much.” Violet then chuckled. “I allowed her to stay at home with the promise that she practice the pianoforte during the evening. Tell me, do I have a chance at all of her listening to my request, or will I return to the estate to see her reading in the same position I left her?”

You grinned. “I am certain you know the answer to that, Lady Bridgerton.”

“Oh, please,” she brushed off your words with a wave of her hand, “there is no need for titles. Violet will be just fine—you are to be a part of our family soon anyway, if what I hear from my son is true.”

Anthony’s eyes widened, his cheeks flushing red. How amusing that a simple sentence could revert him back to a blushing young man. “Mother!”

Of course, you could not poke fun at the viscount in any way—you were sure you looked similar, what with the way you felt the heat rush to your cheeks and your eyes widen as well. Your words came out in a stammer: “I— well, I—”

“Oh, you needn’t be so coy,” your mother teased. “A gentleman would certainly be nervous around the lady he is courting, especially one so beautiful as my daughter.”

Anthony cleared his throat as he offered you a smile of his own, trying his best to recover from the embarrassment. “Yes, Miss Worthing. You are the image of perfection tonight in that shade of pink.”

You could not even imagine putting up with these compliments for the rest of the season—it was far better than dealing with real advances from real suitors, of course, but you did not know if you would be able to stifle your laughter every time Anthony had to flirt with you in the presence of your mothers.

“Thank you, my lord.” You bowed your head slightly in place of a curtsy. “You look quite… spiffing yourself.”

The way Anthony was barely able to hide the mirth in his expression, you knew he was amused by your choice of words. If he made fun of you for it, you would blame it on your mothers. Your act did have to be convincing.

You were just able to catch Violet’s pointed glance at her son before Anthony stepped forward and offered his hand. “I’d be honored to have your first dance of the night, my lady, if you would so indulge me.”

You did not have to look at your mother to know she was doing the same to you—you decided to save her the pain as you offered a practiced smile and took Anthony’s hand. “It would be a pleasure, my lord.”

You entered the dance floor at the perfect time, just when the musicians were beginning a new song, and you took your place across from Anthony. You did not even need to ask what was on his mind as you began your side of the dance, the mirth in his expression telling you all you needed to know.

“I’m not talking because I am focusing on my steps,” you muttered. “I am not as skilled at dancing as I am at many other things.”

His lips quirked up at the edges. “So you mean to say you are better at irritating me than dancing with me?”

The laugh that bubbled out of you caused you to miss one of your steps, but luckily it was at the exact moment you joined hands—Anthony covered for you with ease as you stumbled into him, a glaring reminder of just how much he knew in comparison to you as a result of his title and position.

“Thank you,” you said. “I suppose I am not capable of multitasking while on the dance floor.”

Anthony hummed. “I can tell by the deathly grip you have on my hands.”

You loosened your hold on Anthony as you continued to dance, offering an apologetic smile. “I apologize. This waltz is not my favorite, nor is it my forte. Most dances, truthfully, are not my forte.”

“I am more surprised by the fact you have a favorite dance,” Anthony said, his own smile slightly cockeyed. “Though I should think more of our appearances together should be on the dance floor—you are much less mouthy. I already feel more confident without your constant insults.”

You huffed a laugh. “That is because this is nowhere close to my environment. I am comfortable surrounded by books, or arguing with irritating viscounts. I am not comfortable dancing in front of a crowd this large with the man they all think I am to marry.”

“Ah,” Anthony chuckled. “It is strange, isn’t it? That everyone thinks we will end the season as happily married, and though we are lying to each and every member of the ton, not a single one knows it.”

“Indeed. I truly do not know how you have handled the attention all these years, as a viscount and a Bridgerton. I have been associated with you for hardly a week and I am already tired of it all. If it were not for an even less desirable fate awaiting me without your status protecting me, I would have surely run off to the country by now. Perhaps not even the country—an entirely new country sounds marvelous.”

Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Those are certainly not words befitting a future viscountess. Running away from responsibility is something more suited to a second child—perhaps you should’ve taken this journey with Benedict instead.”

You gave him a sideways smile. “My words do not have to be those of a future viscountess, not when it is just you and me. I suppose that is a benefit of this arrangement.” You tilted your head to the side slightly. “I do think I would enjoy Benedict’s company better, though. He is a joy to be around, and I just love hearing about his artistic endeavors.”

His lips quirked up. “You may indeed be a better pair, then—he certainly needs someone that will listen to him talk about his latest works without complaint, and he irritates me just as much as you do.”

“Impossible,” you stated. “No one can irritate you as much as I do.”

“And for taking the burden of that role, I am eternally grateful,” Anthony said with mock austerity.

“Of course,” you nodded. “Know that I am truly here for you.”

Anthony could not help but laugh at that, and you smiled inwardly as the dance ended and the two of you bowed to each other.

“That was rather pleasant,” he said, “was it not?”

“I’ve yet to experience a better one,” you said, and Anthony simply smiled.

“I await the day when you no longer use sarcasm in our every conversation.”

“You will be waiting a very long time, then, my lord.”

You looped your arm around Anthony’s, a gesture that was already becoming familiar, and began to walk off the floor together.

“I do hope my mother will get over the allure of our pairing soon, though,” you said. “She brings you up in nearly every conversation—our parting argument will have to be convincing indeed, otherwise I fear we may entirely break her heart.”

Anthony chuckled. “I will certainly do my best to prevent that. Though I understand part of your plight. My siblings have not stopped bothering me since they got their hands on the latest edition of Whistledown. Eloise in particular is not a fan of us together.”

“Eloise,” you muttered. “I completely forgot to tell her of our plan.”

He raised his eyebrows. “You were going to tell her a secret that could ruin the both of us?”

“Oh, please,” you admonished. “We both know it would only ruin me. Besides—Eloise already knows nearly everything about me; news of a true courtship between us would be far more shocking to her than this ruse of ours.”

“You are correct,” Anthony said with a slight laugh. “She cornered me in my office when I returned after our promenade the other day and practically demanded I explain myself — but rest assured, she is informed of the truth and is sworn to secrecy.”

You smiled. “That sounds like her, alright. I did not expect her to reveal it in the first place, but it is good to know I have a confidante. In case I need to complain of you, of course.”

“Oh,” Anthony nodded. “Of course. I shall go to her as well if I am in need of the same. She will most certainly not get annoyed at either of us.”

You laughed. “I fear that if we resort to her as our sole alleviant she will most certainly reveal our secret.”

“Eloise doing something out of pure annoyance? I do not doubt it.”

You snickered at that, but then Anthony lightly touched your shoulder and gestured with his head towards the other side of the ballroom.

“I should let you go,” Anthony said. “I believe your mother has some things she wishes to say to you.”

You sighed. “I can only imagine just what she has to say. But it looks as if your mother has the same thing in mind.”

He looked over and sighed, though it was not without a slight smile. “Then I shall see you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Tomorrow?” You pretended to think over it. “That seems far too soon, my lord. I am in need of my rest, both to handle you and maintain this image.”

“I suppose I am in need of a break as well,” Anthony said, “as I have to handle you just as much as you I.”

“We are certainly a troublesome couple,” you said with mock austerity. “It would be no surprise if our courtship were to dissolve completely just before the end of the season.”

Anthony nodded seriously. “It would not be a surprise at all. It would be for the best, truly.”

“The best,” you agreed.

The two of you shared smiles, the sort that only those with secrets could indulge in, and then you parted ways to your respective matriarchs.

And as you walked back over to your mother, your head held higher than usual and an unmistakable confidence in your step, Anthony could not tear his eyes away—could not help but smile.

“Dare I say this is the most I’ve seen you smile at a ball?”

Anthony turned to see Benedict approaching, a glass of wine that was far too full clutched in one hand. By the dazed grin on his lips and a look in his eye that showed he wasn’t all the way there, it wasn’t too hard to tell that his younger brother was already quite far gone—that must’ve been why he showed up on his own, rather than leaving with him and their mother. Certainly for the best, as Violet did not exactly need to see her son getting drunk.

“Dare I say this is the earliest I’ve seen you drink at a ball?” Anthony answered in turn.

“Of course it’s not—I’ve indulged even before arriving on certain occasions. It was the only way I was able to get through half of Daphne’s season.” Benedict’s eyes twinkled as he took a sip from his glass. “It made it far more enjoyable. I would suggest that you try it sometime, but it seems that you are already enjoying the night quite a bit.”

Anthony glanced behind him to see you talking with your mother—or rather, her talking to you, he noted with a slight smile—before looking back at his brother. “I suppose I am having a rather decent time.”

“Far more than decent,” Benedict insisted. “I would even go as far as to say that you actually like Miss Worthing’s company.”

Anthony chuckled a bit. His acting must have been good, to fool even his brother. Though, to be fair, Benedict would not expect him to do something of this sort—honestly, this was more in his territory. Perhaps he was not wrong about telling you his brother would be a better option.

He felt a strange twist in his chest at the thought, but pushed it away just as quickly.

“She is a lovely lady,” he agreed, “and she will make a fine wife.”

Benedict laughed. “Coming from you, brother, that is a declaration of love. My most sincere congratulations to you—you deserve this more than anyone.”

Anthony offered a small smile as his brother patted him on the shoulder and began to walk off, and he called after him: “Do not do anything too stupid, Ben!”

He held up his wine glass in response, not turning to look back at him, and Anthony just shook his head, though not without mirth.

His brother was right about one thing, though. You were the reason he did not have such a terrible night.

“Hyacinth, stop teasing your brother. Benedict, straighten your cravat. And Colin, dear, please do not bore the Worthings with talk of your travels. They have heard them a thousand times, and a good image is imperative.”

“Mother,” Colin said with a frown, “you always say you enjoy my stories.”

“And I do, each and every time,” Violet said with a motherly smile, “but now is not the time to tell them of your exploits for the hundredth time.”

“But we are already good friends with the Worthings,” Gregory said, “and we have had dinner with them so many times. Why do we need to make a good impression?”

“Because this dinner is the most important,” Violet said. “Anthony is courting Y/N, and though it should move ahead very smoothly, we need to ensure that you all make a good impression. We will be one family soon enough.”

“Y/N is to be our sister?” Hyacinth exclaimed. “Oh, that is so amazing! I read it in Lady Whistledown, but I am overjoyed it is actually true!”

Eloise rolled her eyes. “I still cannot believe this is happening. My brother courting my best friend—a true nightmare, perhaps.”

“Eloise,” Violet admonished, “this is a good thing. Be happy for your brother, at least when you are around him.”

She then looked around the room and sighed. “Where is Anthony, anyways?”

“He went to fetch the Worthings,” Benedict supplied. “To ensure that things would go smoothly from the start, show off his effortless gentleman act, and charm her parents all over again—everything of his usual sort.”

“And likely to do things in private with his bride-to-be,” Colin said, earning a snort from Benedict and a glare from his mother.

“Colin Bridgerton, do not say things like that. Especially in front of your siblings.”

“My apologies,” he said, holding his hands up in defense, though he could not help but crack a smile, “but it is likely true.”

It was then that the door was opened by one of the servants—your parents walked through and you and Anthony followed behind them, both you and your mother holding onto your respective beau’s arms.

“Oh, good!” Violet exclaimed, and she gave her children one last gesture with her head to silently ensure they would behave. “You’re just in time—Cecilia, Philip, it is so good to see the two of you. And Y/N, you look lovely tonight. Your dress is simply sublime.”

“You are far too kind,” you said with a smile, bowing your head in lieu of a curtsy.

“It’s just as good to see you, Violet,” your mother said.

Your father nodded. “We were honored to receive the invitation. It has been far too long since the Worthings and Bridgertons dined together.”

“It certainly has,” Violet agreed. “I’m sure we are all hoping it will become a more frequent affair.”

You could not return Anthony’s knowing gaze as he led you around the table, pulling out your chair for you before he took his seat next to you. Your parents took their own seats next to Violet’s head of the table, and you busied yourself adjusting the edge of the tablecloth, unable to even look at Anthony beside you.

“I apologize, Mother, for the delay,” he said. “Our conversation ended up lasting longer than I expected.”

Violet smiled and brushed it aside. “Think nothing of it, dear. You are right on time.”

Anthony spoke the truth, though it was wholly simplified—you could not even look him in the eye after all your mother had said. You did not ever plan on him knowing so many details of your childhood, but you ended up not having a choice in the matter.

He had come to charm your parents and escort the three of you to his estate—it was overboard for a normal suitor, but not for one that was purposefully trying to annoy you as well as completely earn the favor of your family. And it was certainly not overboard for a Bridgerton.

When Anthony arrived, his plan was to meet your parents, converse for a bit to get them fully on his side, and then your mother would fetch you and they would all be on their way. Instead, the moment he listened to your mother and sat down with her in the drawing room, she launched into an entire spiel, solely of you. Honestly, you were thankful you weren’t there, as you do not think you could have handled the embarrassment. Anthony, though, enjoyed it far more than he should have. He also had far more ammunition than he deserved, some of which he had already used against you in whispered conversations on the way here.

(You had already made a plan to get back at him, of course. The next time you were with Eloise in private, you were going to ask her for every single piece of information about her brother, even the most undignified shred. You were certain she would go along with it, and happily so.)

“Are you really going to marry our brother?” Gregory suddenly asked, and along with your eyes widening you felt the heat rush to your cheeks. You thought you were getting used to the idea of this whole thing, but as of now, it seemed you were doomed to the embarrassment each time someone brought up the marriage aspect.

“Not just marry our brother, Gregory,” Hyacinth said, “she will be our sister!” Her attention turned to you, all bright energy, and you could not help but smile the slightest bit. “I cannot wait, Y/N, truly! You must teach me to play the violin once you’re wed, please.”

“Sister-in-law,” Anthony corrected hastily, and you noticed his throat bobbing after a quick glance at you, “she will be your sister-in-law. And she will have other matters to attend to over teaching you to play instruments—if you wish to learn violin, I’m sure we can get you a teacher.”

“Do not be like that, Anthony,” Violet admonished, and she smiled at her daughter. “I’m sure that there will be plenty of time for you to learn things with Miss Worthing. That is,” she glanced over at you, “if she is alright with that.”

“Of course,” you nodded immediately. “I do not think myself the best teacher, but I would love to help you wherever I could. And please,” you smiled, “if I am to call you Violet, you must call me Y/N. Formalities are certainly not needed there.”

“What instruments do you know, Y/N?” Colin spoke up.

“I am most skilled at the violin,” you said, and when you looked at your mother she smiled, “but it is only through countless hours of work. Mother can tell you just how much of a disaster I was at the beginning.”

“Oh, do not say that,” your mother said, brushing it off with an offhanded gesture. “No one is an expert at the beginning—I dare say you picked it up quite fast. Is that not right, Philip?”

“Hm?” Your father’s attention was brought back by your mother saying his name, and he blinked a couple times before he looked at you. “Ah, yes. Yes, she did. Our daughter is very talented.”

You stifled a laugh at that. Whereas your mother was involved in your life at every twist and turn, your father was more focused on the family finances and keeping the Worthings afloat. It was an important job and you were ever grateful for it, but it left him with neither time nor energy to focus on much else.

(You also did not think he cared much for high society anyway—he wanted you to marry in order to secure your lineage as well as garner the protection that a good marriage would bring you, which explained his offer to Lord Cardew, but otherwise, he was hardly involved.)

“What else?” Gregory asked.

“Other than violin, I also know how to play the pianoforte quite well,” you said. “Beyond that is the cello and the viola, though my viola skills certainly need work.”

“Amazing,” Hyacinth breathed, and she looked at Violet. “Mother, you must let me learn more instruments! I'm growing a bit tired of the pianoforte."

“Because the pianoforte is boring,” Eloise contributed. “After listening to Daphne play it nonstop all those years trying to perfect it while she prepared for her debut, I can hardly stand the sound of it anymore.”

“Are you saying you do not wish to bear audience to my impromptu concerts anymore?” you asked, your scandalized tone a mockery.

“I am afraid so,” Eloise said, her austere words a joke as well. “I can no longer handle the noise of those wretched keys—it makes me want to plunge my knitting needles into my eyes.”

“Eloise!” Violet interrupted. “Do not say things like that!”

“Apologies, Mother,” she said, but the secret smile the two of you shared was hardly enough to stifle your combined laughter.

Benedict set down his wine glass and looked at you. “I must ask,” he said, and his slight smile set you at ease, “how have you and our dearest Anthony been getting along? You must be doing something right, as I can certainly attest that he has become more pleasant to be around since he began courting you. I must thank you for that, of course.”

Your smile grew as you looked over at Anthony next to you, and though he was trying to hide any sign of emotion behind the brim of his glass, you could tell that he was not as unaffected as he wanted you to believe. “Is that true?” you asked.

“Oh, certainly,” Colin spoke up. “The other day, we were having a family picnic in the park—Eloise stole a biscuit from him, and he did not even get annoyed. I believe it was the day after your dance at the Kennington’s ball. There has to be a connection there, right?”

“He was in a good mood there!” Benedict agreed, and he looked at you again. “Oh, after you separated, Anthony could not stop smiling. Y/N, I think he has smiled more than ever in the weeks he has been courting you.”

“Well,” you said, smiling yourself as you turned to Anthony, “I am glad to have been a source of happiness for you as of late.”

“Yes,” Anthony said, and he smiled as well. He looked to be doubling down in this, determined to not let you win in your little game. It was a shame, truly. “I am very thankful for your presence, Y/N; I’ve thoroughly enjoyed every moment together. You’ve been a—no, the light of my life. I’m not a poet in any sense of the word, so forgive me for being blunt, but I cannot wait to marry you.”

“Colin,” Eloise said, speaking up suddenly, and you were thankful for it as it took all of your strength to tamp down on your laughter, “weren’t you telling me earlier about how beautiful the mountains were during your visit to Greece?”

“Oh, they are amazing,” Colin said, and you could hear Violet sigh as a waterfall of information began to pour out of him. You assumed Eloise wanted just as much, as she gave you a very pointed look from across the table. You just smiled at her.

You looked at Anthony next to you as the conversation carried on without you, mouthing “very nice” with serious eyes. He responded by rolling his own, though unable to fully conceal his smile.

Friends, you surmised. It appeared the two of you were actually becoming friends.

“The light of your life?” you exclaimed, raucous laughter emerging after it. “Oh, Anthony—you are certainly becoming creative.”

He let out a small laugh as well, shaking his head some. “Can you blame me? Benedict and Colin seemed intent on embarrassing us completely, in front of your parents as well! I had no choice but to either give in to their teasing or double down on our love. And of course, I could not let my brothers get the better of us.”

The two of you had escaped to the outdoors once your dinner together was over—your parents had to retire for the night, your father claiming he had important business matters to attend to early the next morning and your mother citing plain old exhaustion. You requested a promenade with Anthony, purely so you could discuss everything that had gone on between the two of you, and they agreed with the promise that Anthony accompany you on the carriage ride home. You were meant to have a chaperone as well, but either by accident or purpose you ended up alone. Now, you walked throughout the greenery of the Bridgerton estate, barely able to get through your words without laughter alongside it.

“Of course,” you said sagely, “it was certainly a strategic move, complimenting me so. I don’t know what to do with myself, knowing that you actually don’t hate me.”

“I should be the one with that reaction,” Anthony said. “Whatever am I to do without your endless jabs at me? I may actually gain some confidence.”

“Oh,” you shook your head, “do not worry, my lord. I will always be able to humble you, even after we are married. It is one of my many talents; surely, you are aware.”

“Certainly so,” he said, but then he sighed. “The longer we go on with this, though, the more guilt I feel. The advantage of not having to deal with countless daughters is quite nice, and I’m thankful you get to avoid that lecher of a man. But,” Anthony shook his head, “seeing how my siblings reacted, I cannot help but feel bad for them.”

You bit your lip and nodded. “Hyacinth was overjoyed about it. The excitement in her eyes when she talked about my becoming her sister, and learning the violin…” You chuckled. “It is almost enough to make me want to go through with this in reality.”

“I know how you feel,” Anthony said dryly. “A marriage borne out of Hyacinth-induced guilt is certainly not out of her power.”

“Can you imagine when the reverend asks us for our vows?” you laughed as you straightened your posture and grabbed his hands, exaggerating your voice. “Anthony Bridgerton, I do not love you, but I do love your sister. I could not stand to see the sadness in her eyes if we do not go through with this, therefore I will marry you.”

He laughed again at that, and he squeezed your hands before he pulled away. “Be careful with what you say, my lady. You may not know this as an only child, but the magic that a younger sister holds is a mysterious one indeed. She has gotten her way many a time in this family purely by doing just that.”

“I do not doubt it,” you nodded. It was then that the two of you walked past a pair of swings, hung by ropes tied to a tree. You tugged at one of the ropes and looked at Anthony. “What are these here for?”

He smiled a bit. “My father and I built them together when I was younger—I couldn’t have been any more than ten. He had the idea to make them for us—not just me and the three other siblings that were there, but the future children that they planned to have. My father decided to make it himself rather than outsource the work to a carpenter or a servant, and I begged him to let me help. He let me, and even though all I did was walk around rope and tie knots, I had the most brilliant time.”

Anthony walked over and picked up a knot, one tied in the middle of the rope. “This is the first one I made. It’s completely useless, and honestly, it would have been better if Father just took it out, but he kept it there; he just worked around it when he had to string it all up. It looks like nothing—truthfully, it looks like a mistake, but it’s… it’s a priceless reminder of him. I’m thankful he left it.”

“That’s beautiful, Anthony,” you murmured. A moment of hesitation passed before you slowly reached out and, before you could doubt yourself, placed your hand over his as gently as you could. There was a moment of surprise, visible from the slightest flinch to his widened eyes as he looked at you, but it faded just as quickly, replaced by a feeling you couldn’t describe.

“It’s a part of him,” you said softly. “Proof of the time you spent together—proof that he was here, that he was with you, that he loved you. That he will always love you, even if he is no longer here. You are a part of that too, Anthony—do you realize? He lives on in you, in the way that you love and take care of your siblings.”

Anthony swallowed thickly, his throat bobbing as he looked at you. His gaze was the softest thing you’d experienced, the warmth of his hand enveloping yours as he turned his over to squeeze your hand. It felt like the world around you had stopped as you looked into each other’s eyes, your breath hitching in your chest both at the feeling of his hand on yours and the proximity that had gotten closer without you even realizing. It must have struck Anthony suddenly, because his eyes widened slightly and he pulled away, taking a few steps in the opposite direction.

The air returned to you as you put on your own distance, your eyes widening the same way as you realized what had just happened.

What had just happened?

“It is getting late,” he said hastily, “we should get you back to your estate.”

“Of course,” you agreed, nodding far too many times. “My mother is likely worried.”

“Of course,” he repeated, and Anthony cleared his throat before he looked at you. “I will send for a maid to accompany you when we get back to the house instead. We should—” he cleared his throat again, “I have things I need to attend to, unfortunately. Finances to go through, papers to sign.”

You nodded yet again. “That is for the best. That— that is smart.”

This time, it was his turn to nod. “Yes, of course.”

The silence hung in the air between the two of you for one long, charged moment, before you spoke.

“We should go.”

“Yes!” Anthony said, and before you turned to start walking you were able to see his frown, his thoroughly vexed expression. You felt the exact same way.

And as you walked back to the Bridgerton estate, the space naturally occurring between the two of you despite the strange atmosphere that had been created, the thought once again popped into your mind.

What had just happened?

sorry for tagging again but thats the way it is. i hope this works lol

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77 @simonsbluee @kwyloz @masteroperator

bridgerton tags: @theonewithallthemilkshakes @rach2602 @milkiane @korol-lantsov

anthony bridgerton tags: @gwenebear @lurkymurker @likeballet

not so simple tags: @ifilwtmfc @readers-posts @fangirling-galore @funkydinosaurs @baby-i-am-fireproof @mess-is-my-aesthetic @likeballet @mdkfh @brezzybfan

#anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x you #anthony bridgerton fic #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton fic #anthony bridgerton fanfic #x reader #bridgerton imagine #sadie writes

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dreamingofbucky · 10 months

Text

Inescapable

chapter three

summary: you finally encounter a suited man.

tags/warnings: hints of violence, choking (not reader), allusions to possible assault and robbery, spanish nicknames because spider-man has no chill compared to miguel hehe, tbh some whiplash bc spiderman is so sweet and miguel is not.

wordcount: 2.4k

author’s note: not betea read. uhhh thank you for 700 followers and being patient with me for this update! I've been planning and plotting this series so it can flow well. And I even started plotting another multi chapter fic for miguel. it'll be a dark one...can't wait!

tag list: @yehet-moi-ohorat @127aliciia @keepingitlokiii @soseoulol @netey6m @miggyoharaswife @thesecretwriter @natthernandez @twitchydownfall

series masterlist

The crime in the city was only seemingly getting worse.

You were on your third week at work and you’ve just finished sending in last minute emails before leaving the office. It was Thursday, so that meant you could stop by the grocery store for some discounted sushi. It was the simple things, really.

Miguel O’Hara has been out of your mind for as long as you could muster, even if you saw him around Alchemax. You’d easily turn your heel and walk back to where you came from or even side step him and walk down a random hallway.

Ever since that night you found yourself drunk-mumbling and moaning his name you had to make your distance. And he didn’t seem to make it any more difficult for you. It’s like he knew you were avoiding him and he let you.

How sweet.

He was off doing whatever bullshit he’d do during the workday and you were positive there were times he wasn’t even in the building or on campus for that matter. But you didn’t mind one bit when you turned in the first of many reports to your boss and you got praise for it.

You didn’t dare to find Miguel to share the good news because this was all you and you wanted to cherish it. Even if his credentials were on it.

You didn’t care.

***

Walking toward the grocery store is not as noisy as you’d expect for a Thursday afternoon. You even had a little pep in your step once you reached the destination and began looking at the sushi options. You opted for a Philly roll and a crunchy crab. You even got another bottle of wine to dive into.

Once you paid for your groceries you were on your way home when you got this funny feeling in your body. Like someone was following you.

You picked up your pace, sushi bag in one hand and wine bottle in the other. Your hand tightened around the wine bottle and you’d sacrifice the sweet and savory goodness to use it as your weapon if you had to.

Turning your head slightly, you could hear the shuffle of footsteps behind you—catching up. Your heart rate quickened at the realization that the faster you began to walk, the faster the steps behind you slapped against the concrete.

You didn’t bother to turn to look at who it might be, you couldn’t spare that second as you picked up your pace into a light jog. The pretty blue dress you decided to wear to work today flows around your thighs with the movement.

The streets weren’t busy so there wouldn’t be anyone you could scream to if you needed. You were ultimately fucked if you let them get to you, regardless of what they wanted.

There were often times you almost got robbed before you found ways out of those situations. If tonight was going to be the first, you’d be sure to put up a fight. Even if it costs your wine bottle.

The blood pumping in your veins rushed to your ears and that’s all you could hear. It wasn’t until you ran across a street, thinking you made enough space between you and whoever was behind you that you knew you were wrong.

Oh, so wrong.

“You can’t keep running, pretty,” a gruff voice sounded right by your ear. It was so sudden that you jumped at the sound, turning your gaze at the man with a black ski mask on. Did they seriously follow you with that on in broad daylight… and no one stopped them?

Another reason added to your list of why you were starting to dislike this city. The bystander effect was very very real here.

Before you can think to run, fight, or even think, they grab you by your elbow harshly and push you toward an alleyway. Your breathing fills the silence around you and you know you should scream.

Yell.

Fight.

Do something.

But nothing came out of your mouth when you parted your lips. Your hand wouldn’t lift when the neurons in your brain attempted to connect with the nerves in your hand to lift the damn wine bottle and smash it over this person’s head.

You’re pushed against a hard brick wall and your breath gets knocked out of you. The sushi bag falls in the process.

“You won’t be needing this,” the person laughs before leaning down and pulling the wine bottle out of your hardened grasp. Your fingers are stiff around it and they have to practically yank it out of your grip.

Their eyes are almost bloodshot and they’re not too much taller than you. You could make a run for it, if your damn body listened to you. But you seemed to be stuck in Freeze Mode.

“You’re not going to say anything?” They ask, leaning in closer. You could hear their muffled breathing under the mask. “This will make it easier for me then.”

It takes everything in you to finally speak and it comes out as a pitiful whisper. “P-please, just leave me alone. Take my purse!”

Their eyes run down the length of you until they stop at the purse strap over your shoulder.

“That wouldn’t make this fun, though. I’m already enjoying this. Why not make it last?”

You suck in a deep breath, still attempting to will your feet to move. To move your knee at least and jab it into their crotch and then make a run for it. But of course your body would not respond to your commands.

They lean in even more, their covered nose brushing against your cheek and then your neck. Your whole body is on alert and the hairs on the back of your neck stand firm. You close your eyes, hoping they can do whatever they need to and make it quick. Blocking it out would be far better than trying to continually stop them, you think.

But that wouldn’t happen, thankfully.

It all happens so quickly. They’re lifting a hand to brush your head when they grunt and then take a step back, falling a few feet away. You hear it all and you finally whip your eyes open.

The gasp that leaves your lips is loud as you register the scene before you. You plant yourself even more against the brick wall as you take in the tall figure. The tall figure that’s donned in a blue spandex like suit with red markings over it. They make a design, but you can’t quite make it out from this angle.

Eyes widening, your fingertips clutch the brick and you attempt to calm your breathing.

“What the hell? Who are you?!” The masked man screams, holding their head and attempting to stand up to fight against this person.

Once the masked man stands at full height, that’s when you realize the difference between the two. The suited man is more than a foot, maybe two, taller than this masked guy and he’s leaning so far into the guy that you can practically see the sweat beads drip down his temples from where you’re standing.

“If you think you can save the day, you can’t!” The masked man screams just then, attempting to scare the tall suited man. You attempt to inch a little to the right, away from the men.

“Get lost before I force you to,” the tall figure finally speaks. The voice is low, borderline teasing. As if he’s a predator playing with its prey; giving it a chance to think about running but knowing there really is no way out of their predicament.

But something else about the voice rings in your ear and it keeps your feet planted. As if the intonation is a spell, keeping you grounded.

“Fuck off, let me have her. Trying to be a hero? Go find real villains like those petty cops that ruin our city. She’s none of your concern—”

Before he can finish his sentence the suited man reaches his hand out and grabs the masked man’s throat. It almost looks effortless with the way he then raises his arm, lifting the guy by the throat as if he weighs nothing. You widen your eyes at the sight and watch as the masked man starts to fumble his words, clawing his fingers at the suited guy’s wrist.

The suited guy is silent as he grips the masked man’s throat even tighter and his eyes bulge out of the mask as if they’re going to pop out.

“You know one thing about me?” The suited man asks, finally turning his head to look at you. Red shapes outline where his eyes would be and they move with the expression he has. Right now they’re narrowed slits on the suit and you wonder how the guy really looks underneath it.

The masked man can only groan, unable to speak or probably breathe.

“I might try to be a hero here, but that doesn’t mean I’m like the ones you silly humans watch on your TV,” he starts. He continues to look at you and there’s a sudden chill in the air that comes from the intensity of it. You gulp, waiting for him to finish.

“I don’t have a ‘no-kill’ rule.” And as if he’s just teasing the man, he laughs and it does something to you. The string of laughs vibrate throughout your body and you’re not sure if you should be afraid of this suited man or not. He is saving you from this encounter, but your mind is in a frenzy trying to decide if you’re next.

The masked man’s fingers continue to claw at the suited man’s wrist before he loses consciousness. Your breathing is erratic and you’re positive you’ll be next to pass out.

Within minutes, the suited man lifts his other hand and you can’t believe your eyes as you see something retract out of his finger. A claw. He pulls off the ski mask and you gasp, seeing the face of the man who attempted to rob you and probably do much more. He doesn’t look much younger than you.

Another life wasted to the corruption and cruelty of this city.

The suited man doesn’t give you enough time to process it all before he’s slowly dragging his claw up to the man’s chin before pressing into the skin and drawing blood. He continues to run his claw up toward the man’s temple. The gash isn’t big, but it’s deep enough to cause a thin line of red and some blood drops to begin to pour down his face.

The suited man releases the hold on the masked man’s throat before tossing his body on the ground, like he’s disgusted to be even touching him. He restracts the claw before turning toward you. You hitch your breath, eyes widened, and hands slowly reaching up toward your chest in a pathetic attempt to look defensive.

But he doesn’t stop walking toward you, he even cocks his head to the side and the red lines for his eyes narrow even more before he’s a couple inches from you. His broad shoulders take up your vision. His bulging muscles underneath the suit doesn’t help with how you’re feeling with the heightened emotions.

With the height difference you have to crane your head up. It reminds you of someone else that is just as tall.

Miguel O’Hara. He’s always got you craning your head to look up at him. You blink a few times before this suited man reaches his hand up to grab your chin. It’s not harsh, but quite delicate. Like he’s worried he’d hurt or break you with the simplest touch.

“W-Who are you?” You finally stumble out in a breathless tone.

The red lines on his mask contort before he takes a deep breath. “Not important, nena. You’re safe now.”

You glance quickly at the unconscious body a few feet away and swallow the lump in your throat. Eyes averting to the suited man, you can’t help but part your lips. His thumb moves from your chin to your bottom lip. You can’t see his face, but you want to desperately.

“Thank you,” you breathe.

“Stay out of trouble, muñeca, or you’ll just have to see more of me,” he whispers so lowly you almost miss it.

Your heart thumps wildly against your chest and before you can even ask him who he is, why he’s in a suit, and why he’s attempting to be the city’s hero when those kinds of things don’t exist, he’s taking a step back and heading out of the alleyway. You want to chase after him and make him reveal himself, but your feet continue to stay planted on the concrete.

After a few deep breaths you look at the unconscious body on the ground and you finally take a step forward. Finally, you have the strength to move your feet and you find yourself standing in front of the masked guy. His eyes are shut and the blood is starting to dry on his face from the claw that pierced the skin.

You look around the alleyway before looking back at the man and lift your foot, taking a deep breath and kicking his side. He’s still slumped and passed out, so you kick him again. And again, and again.

The anger in you starts to dissipate and it turns into tears as you continue to kick the guy’s midsection. Until your ankle hurts and your toes feel stubbed. Your breathing is harsh and you back up, feeling exhausted at this simple act of defense.

You pondered the way the suited man said he isn’t like the heroes you watch on TV. Most of the time they only help the damsels and then take the villains to authorities or beat them up. Never kill. Seemed like a notion all heroes abided by.

But not this suited man. He had no rule that stopped him from killing someone. That terrified you, but that also brought an odd sensation of relief to you as well. A protectiveness sensation, if you will.

Maybe this city could benefit from that kind of hero with how horrible it’s become.

You hitch your purse higher on your shoulder as you turn on your heel and head out of the alleyway. Your appetite is gone and all you want to do is curl up on your couch and sleep.

And that’s what you do. But that night you don’t dream of just anything.

You dream of that suited man.

And oddly enough, you dream of Miguel O’Hara as well.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel spiderman #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman #miguel o'hara atsv #atsv fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction

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