#and that’ll Change them but the reality of Life is that that’s Not It | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceilidho · 4 months

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exit, no entry wound joe bear graves x reader; part 1 (3.8k)

Local time at destination: 0500 hours.

And then the world rushes back to him like the culmination of a terrible dream.

Bear wakes up in another rosebush outside the front steps of the local library worse for wear. Blinking out of sleep-crusted eyes, shapes diverging in blurry unfocus before slipping back into material objects. A bench. A door. The thorny stems of roses already on their way out, already depetalling, the ground below covered in a thin layer of them. One petal even sticking to his cheek when he pulls himself off the ground, wincing at the branches that crunch around him, that tug against his skin and clothes.

His clothes smell of cheap liquor. Gin. Bourbon. It hurts to open his eyes, to sit up.

“Morning, sunshine,” someone says. He remembers hearing it in his dream too.

He looks to the source of his awakening, blanching when he notices the man staring at him.

Rip sits on the other side of the bushes on his haunches, looking deeply unimpressed. Hair slicked back for a change. “This what you get up to when I’m gone?”

Bear doesn’t respond. He struggles to his feet instead, hangover only just creeping in. Still drunk, to an extent. His knees threaten to buckle under him, forcing him to lay a hand flat on the wall to keep himself upright. One foot in front of the other. The walk home feels endless in the hour before dawn, hardly any light to guide him.

“Pretty pathetic shit, Bear,” the man says, trailing along behind him. Not quite mockingly, but bordering on it. “Getting piss drunk and passing out in a bush? Really? C’mon, man. You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

There’s no sense in responding, Bear knows that now. No sense in even turning around to look. One foot in front of the other. Stumbling home alone under the cloak of night, dawn just around the corner; terrified that one day he’ll have to see it—the sun coming over the mountains, over the horizon.

It’s been less than a year. He hasn’t yet made his amends with God. Forgiveness sits outside of him. Not quite the right time to let it in. Maybe that time passed a long time ago, a small aperture that shuttered closed at the approach of his eyes. He missed it sometime between killing a boy and losing his mind.

A man cannot hold himself up on the scaffolding of the world alone. There has to be something beneath him. There is no sense in repeating the horrors of the world back to him; he’s already lived them. He’s got something of a Midas touch for death.

The months have been long since the divorce was finalised, since Lena left for good, since Buckley died, since Rip—since it all went down. If he thinks about it for too long, it seems like a nightmare that he woke up from still mad about; a nightmare he had no choice but to drink himself into a stupor over to escape. That’s the reality of the world.

“You know, Bear, you’re not the one that’s fuckin’ dead,” Rip spits as he follows behind, matching Bear’s stumbling gait stride for stride. “So you can stop acting like it.”

There’s a truth in Rip’s words and it leaves him feeling nauseous. There’s also a kink in his neck and a headache threatening to split his forehead open. In the belly of him, he has a truth that says that the firmament of heaven is beyond his reach. When he looks up and the sky is void of coruscating light, the meagre stars like an exit with no entry wound, it doesn’t surprise him. Of course there wouldn’t be anything there.

On a good day, his heart feels like it’s weathered a siege.

“So she left you! It’s time to fuckin’ move on. Go to a bar—I mean, you already are, so step one done—and pick someone up. Go on Christian Mingle or something. You keep living your life like this and you’re going to wind up killing yourself. And then the fuck good that’ll do?”

It takes everything in him to not turn around and do something rash. Only the nausea keeps him from making any sudden movements. Even if he were to turn around and do something, his knees would probably buckle under him. Probably throw up the contents of his stomach. Not much in there either. It rumbles when he thinks that, clenching at the thought of food. Then it twists, the nausea returning.

One foot in front of the other. The walk home takes twice as long, his whole body aching.

“Heard you almost quit. Wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. Let Buddha take over—he’s earned it. Get yourself a nice piece of land in fuckin’…Montana or something. Couple cows, maybe some chicken—you could get a dog, Christ. You look like a guy who’d have a dog. Why don’t you have a dog, actually? You would’ve told me if you didn’t like dogs, so it’s not that.”

His forehead is greasy when he touches it to rub his head. Body secreting poison in his sleep. Oily. The corners of his lips crack when he yawns. It’s not like he’s never thought about a dog, about having something to care for, another living thing in his house.

But—

(“Bear? …I don’t think we should have a child.”)

What he wants often falls to the wayside, slides off him like a glancing blow.

Her old, familiar shape appears at the sudden loss of a dream: one where Lena’s gaze lingers on him long enough to burn; but then it is the sun.

Bear watches dawn break. Sunday morning. In a different life, he would’ve squinted into the light of a new day and closed his eyes against it, curling into the slighter body tucked into his chest for another hour of rest. Felt the rise and fall of her chest. Woken up to a hot mouth on his cock or fingers curling in his chest hair, petal lips seeking him out. Church after that, showering off the remnants of their morning, solemn in their pews with their chests still holding the laughter of an hour previous. Light as air, as a feather.

He won’t go to church today; hasn’t in months. Not with the guilt of missing it the week before trailing after him, each missed week compounding month after month. The cracks in his faith webbing. Splintering out like stepping on the lake when it freezes over in the winter, crunching under his boot until he holds his place. Conscious that it could break under his feet.

“I grew up with a dog,” Bear finally responds, voice hoarse. First thing he’s said since last call at the bar.

“Yeah. Figures. What kind?”

“Black lab. We called her Daisy.”

It’s another lifetime ago. Still living in his parent’s house, Daisy curled by his dad’s feet, her favourite spot to sleep. Television playing at a low volume, mom at the kitchen table doing her crossword, ink bleeding into the side of her hand. It’s been a long time since Bear buried all of them. He’s buried countless people since.

“What—can’t get another? One and done? That’s how everything works for you?”

Teeth raze across his skin again. Trust Rip to always cut to the quick. Finally back in his neighbourhood at least, the street empty apart from the cars parked in their driveways or along the sidewalk. Bear’s stomach rumbles something fierce now, entreating him to eat. Worse than hunger is how he’d kill for a glass of water though. Anything to settle his head.

“Haven’t wanted a dog,” Bear grumbles, then clears his throat.

“Yeah, you have,” Rip scoffs. Bear hears him kick a rock, sending it skidding across the asphalt.

“Fuck off.”

Heart silicified in his chest, composed of fossilised shells and rocks and bones. It feels heavy in his chest.

He turns down the street leading to his house.

“Gotta let someone else in, Bear. Girl, dog—whatever. You can’t keep this up forever or it’ll kill you.”

When he turns around at the door, fishing in his pocket for his keys, the sidewalk beyond his house is empty.

(So a man lies down and rises not again; till the heavens are no more he will not awake or be roused out of his sleep.)

Every Friday like clockwork, Bear stops at the diner down the street for a coffee and a slice of cherry pie before heading to the bar.

Today is like any other. He leaves the house with only his keys and wallet and walks the long twenty minutes to the diner. Every time he fights the urge to drive, but there has to be something holding him in place. A reason not to throw it all away.

It’s never completely empty when he shows up, but it’s never full either. His seat at the back of the room is open as usual, like they put up a sign before he comes ambling down the street that says Reserved for Joe Graves and then pluck it away before he opens the door. It’d be nice if that were the case. Nice to have something just for him for a change. The thought comes with its accompanying pang of shame. Desire is a dangerous thing; anything he’s ever wanted has come at him with sharpened teeth, clamping down on his leg and ripping through the flesh. Bear trap for old Bear.

He slides into the booth and waits for someone to notice him. Never bothers to flag someone down—if it’s ten minutes or even half an hour before he’s served, that’s fine by him.

“Hiya,” a clear voice says to his right, pulling him away from staring through the blinds out the window. “Can I get you something to drink? Coffee, tea?”

The face Bear turns to meet is pleasant, smiling. Wide and untroubled. It’s not a face he recognizes though, despite months coming to this diner and becoming familiar with the staff. If he had to guess, he’d bet she only started a few days ago, maybe a week at most. She still has the sparkle of someone who hasn’t had the goodness beaten out of them yet.

“Coffee,” he says, his own smile strained. “And a slice of pie.”

“Sure—we have key lime, blueberry, apple—”

“Cherry,” he interrupts, not letting her build steam. The wick in his chest burns too low for any conversation. The quick flicker of her brow makes the shame in his chest swell again. Forgive me sitting on his lips, unsaid. I’m sorry, I don’t know why I do this.

She nods and scurries off to the back, skirt swishing with her movements. Bear notices only because his eyes get stuck there, somewhere between the curves of her hips and the roundness of her ass. When he realizes where he’s let his mind wander, he pulls it back, flattening his lips into a hard line. Any sort of indulgence feels wrong, a taking that shouldn’t be taken. He hasn’t even begun to pay penance for all the damage he’s wrought.

It’s only on her way back that Bear notices the small bump protruding from under her apron. His mouth goes dry. When she reaches him again, he wordlessly accepts the cup of coffee and her reassurance that the pie will be out in just a minute. For a moment, he can hardly meet her gaze, eyes locked on the gentle curve of her belly, caught off guard in a way he hasn’t been in months.

The first thought with any clarity is, what is she doing working here? A crummy diner on a Friday night. Down the street from an even sleazier pub. His second thought is to look outside at the poorly lit stretch of road and think that this is no place for a pregnant woman to be alone. He recognizes each car in the parking lot save one, likely hers. Drove herself here with the expectation of driving herself home at the end of the night.

If it had been Lena—well, he never would’ve let it be Lena, but if it had been, Bear can’t imagine letting his pregnant wife drive herself home in the middle of the night. Can hardly stomach the thought.

She’s not Lena though, so he has no right.

She’s gone before he has time to say anything else, skirt swishing behind her. It catches his eye again. When he tears his gaze away for a second time, he swallows back the metallic taste of self-loathing. It curdles in his mouth. It’s the sign telling him to stop coveting, stop looking out into the world and wondering what he can take. It’s his hamartia, his fatal flaw; thinking himself above the reproach of God. Thinking that he can kill, fuck, curse, and stray farther and farther from the light only to find his way back in the dark.

The bell above the door rings when someone else comes in and Bear tenses. His shoulders only relax when two older women step in and head to a table.

He watches as she picks up a plate from the pass-through window and heads back towards him. When she places it in front of him, he draws a deep breath in, trying to catch more than just the aroma of fresh baked cherries.

“Here we go…one slice of cherry pie, straight out of the oven.”

“Thanks, honey,” Bear rumbles, smile finally meeting his eyes.

“No trouble. The guys in the back said they make it special for you. Joe, right?”

That gets him to levy her with the full weight of his attention. The thought of her asking about him. “I go by Bear.”

“Oh. Alright, Bear.” She twists the word around in her mouth and seems to find it satisfying. “I think I’ve heard your name before. You were—I mean, you’re part of Pastor Adams’ parish, right?”

He clears his throat, cutting off the triangle point of his pie with the side of his fork. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Me too,” she confides, voice a low whisper. A secret between strangers. She doesn’t glance around though, doesn’t bother to draw out the ruse. “Or, I was, anyway. Haven’t been to service in awhile. I, um…I remember you. From a year or so back. You and your—um…you and your wife used to always sit up at the front.”

The fork scrapes against the plate. “Ex-wife.”

He catches her wince from the corner of his eye. “Oh. Sorry. You just—” She doesn’t have to say it. The slight dip of her eyes tells him all he has to know, and besides, it’s his own fault for still wearing the ring. Even with the paperwork signed and dated, even with Lena in another state now, starting a new life without him, the thought of taking it off makes him break out in a cold sweat.

“It’s not—” Bear starts before giving up. He curls his fingers into a fist on the table.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine. Not a big deal.”

She fidgets in the silence. Bear can’t bring himself to break it or make the atmosphere less oppressive. He tenses under it, the ache in his low back worsening. These days, he always aches. Nerve damage, a disc on the verge of slipping, an old ankle injury that flares up whenever he goes running. A ghost that follows him from haunt to haunt. The ring on his finger is just another old ache.

“So, uh—” he clears his throat, nodding to her belly. “Your first?”

It’s inappropriate, hardly his place to ask. Incredibly intrusive for someone he’s met for the first time, a stranger just trying to do her job and serve him coffee and pie before he goes off to drink himself half to death again at the dive bar down the road.

Still, he asks.

Only the faintest wrinkle of her nose betrays any embarrassment. “Oh. Yeah. First one.”

“Congratulations.” It’s sincere. The envy in his gut is old, but it’s a manageable pain.

“Thanks,” she says, with a small, private smile, hand resting absently under her belly. “I’m excited. I’m only a couple months along, but, uh…it’s been a journey. Just me and baby against the world, you know.”

That stops him in his tracks. Screws up the whole course of his evening because suddenly the sound of the bell over the door jingling doesn’t draw his attention away. It stays fixed on the smiling girl to his right that just opened her mouth and said something unacceptable.

“Where’s the dad?” he asks, far too bluntly.

She shrugs. “Somewhere. Didn’t stick around long enough to tell me where. It’s fine though—I’ve got my little peanut. That’s all that matters.”

“You told him and he left?”

The pie sits cooling in front of Bear as a pit in his stomach opens up. It’s a terrible, empty hole that holds truths like the fallibility of the body and the good shouldering the burdens of the world.

He only regrets being so direct when her lip quivers, a little motion that betrays her until she wrests control over her face again. “It’s not his fault. I don’t think he was—well…you know, it was a surprise.”

“That’s—” he struggles to find his words, “—that’s not right.”

Again, she shrugs. “That’s life.”

Bear feels his eyes go hard. A coldness settles under his skin.

In the deep, dark gut of him, only anger lives. He spends his days questioning why God has allowed everything else in his life to fall apart, has allowed countless other people to die, but refuses, for reasons unbeknownst to him, to kill him. He’s given him enough opportunity and enough reason.

The answer he circles back to time and again is the same. An eye for an eye. Divine wrath. The litany of his sins could be sung until the end of time and there’d still be more to sing. It’s only right that there would be consequences for him.

The rage that simmers in his blood now is twofold. It begins with the sharp pang of injustice, of witnessing a punishment meted out to someone innocent. The girl standing by the booth he’s shoved himself into, almost too small for a man of his size, cannot be deserving of the same punishment that he’s brought upon himself. She has never killed. The babe in her belly has never killed. The two of them should never have to meet at the point of two paths converging with the likes of someone like Bear and proceed down the same road together.

Then it sinks into a familiar territory. A place at the core of him where righteousness gives way to envy, as it always does. After what he's been through, the thought of someone having everything that he's always desperately wanted handed to them on a silver platter and then sending it back leaves him feeling a bit off-kilter. Not quite right.

“Bear?” Her voice breaks the silence. When he blinks, concerned eyes stare down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” he rasps, dragging a hand down his face. Shaking it off. “Sorry, I—got lost in my head. Sorry.”

“That’s alright,” she says, again gentle in her voice and smile. “Easy place to get lost in, isn’t it?”

He makes a sound in acknowledgment. Drags the silence out. Her mouth twists shy under his scrutiny.

“Anyway, I have a few other tables to get to, if you don’t mind. Enjoy your pie. I’ll check on you in a bit.”

He eats his slice of pie in silence as she leaves, eyes following her to her next table. Rage still sizzles under his fingertips. It makes his hands shake, old nerve damage and anger problems.

It’s like a gun punch to think of her all on her own. It’s not right. For someone like him, well, it’s—deserved, earned. Inevitable, even. Every step taking him further away from grace, from its light. No one who knows his story would think otherwise.

She’s a pretty thing though, this new waitress. Too tired, the bags under her eyes testament to that, no matter how well she hides them with makeup. Slightly puffy anyway, maybe from a lack of sleep or too many tears. His stomach aches at the thought. It must have come as a shock, the bottom of her world dropping out from under her when the baby’s father took off. Dragged away from the church not through her own doing, but the fault of another. Not her shame to bear, and yet.

He forces the pie down. Bites that taste like nothing,

Bear hears the lilt of her voice from two tables over. “Refill on your coffee, hun?”

A supplicant sits in his place as he sips his coffee. The hour slips by into the next and it starts to come together in his mind. Why he's been forced down this long road alone, why God hasn't struck him down yet despite every terrible thing he's done. His eyes follow her flit across the diner, the light seeming to bend around her like a halation.

When Bear looks across the room at her, he thinks, Lord, do not think I am waiting patiently for your hands. Every part of me trembles with anxiety.

(O Lord, show me I can fall apart together again; but not just yet.)

He stays until the last customer has finally left, waiting for her to come back to his table with an apologetic smile. When she does, Bear hands her his empty plate, watching her take a step back when he scoots out of the booth, rising to his full height. He makes note of the way her eyes round as they follow him up. Taller than her, unsurprisingly. Surprising though, the way her bottom lip droops just the slightest bit.

“Is it just you closing up?” he asks, voice a tad too gruff. He clears his throat again, looking around for anyone else.

“Well, the chef’s cleaning up in the back, but, uh—” she looks around the diner, conspicuously empty apart from the two of them. “Yeah. Just me.”

Bear gestures with his chin towards the door. “I’ll wait ‘till you’re done, then walk you to your car.”

“Oh, Joe—”

“Bear,” he corrects.

“Bear,” she amends, fingers twisting together now. He relishes the sound of it on her lips. “You don’t have to. I’m used to it, honestly. I know I just started here, but I’ve done closes before, you know.”

“I’ll wait outside.” A statement now. Stubborn. He’s always been a bit mulish, hard to shake off.

He can tell the second she relents, shoulders slumping. “Alright. I shouldn’t be too long…you can leave if you get bored though. Won’t blame you.”

He fights the urge to tilt her head up by the chin to make her meet his eyes. Just barely restrains himself.

Leaning against a tree out front, he twirls the ring around his finger as he watches her clean up. For the first time in a long time, he slips it off.

#ceil writing #joe bear graves #six (2017)#joe graves #six #big bear

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undercoverpena · 2 months

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4. green smoke

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter four of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.7k chapter warnings: [see masterlist for series warnings] meet cute, flirting. fluff. flirting in person and over IG. frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used, you wear a date outfit but not specified and the shoes have heels but not mentioned what kind. minor discussion of past canon events incl. drugs. no use of y/n. an: if this as a friends episode this would be called "the one where they talk"

prev chapter | frankie's ig

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Friday soon arrives.

It comes hand-in-hand with a tumultuous storm, bringing with it ominous rumbles echoing through your house. The air feels charged with tension, wrung tight, all sense—as if it’s holding its breath while the world around seems to retreat into darkness. Even if the time on your laptop says 14:43.

Your gaze fixates on beads of rain running down the window, all racing one another—like you have been for several minutes. The steady patter provides a rhythmic backdrop to your solitude, interrupted only by the occasional sighs that escape your lips and the soft tapping of your pencil against the notebook—a feeble attempt at pretending you’re concentrating.

Pretend is the optimum word.

Merely putting on a show of focusing on the task at hand. In reality, your eyes keep flicking to your phone—the one lying silent on the counter, eagerly anticipating the next notification that’ll make it illuminate.

Your work, the one thankfully with a deadline of next week, continues to sit ignored—barely considered, never mind plotted. Because it isn’t what fills your mind.

It’s him.

Just thoughts of him—mind populated with vivid memories that refuse to fade, unable to stop lingering on the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles or his infectious laugh. The one which has dug itself a place into the walls of your home, lit it up.

Then, you think of his lips, the ones that are purposeful, all heavenly. The mere thought of them sends a shiver down your spine, a longing present, spreading—

Unloading a delivery and you’re falling on me.

It's difficult not to smile at his message.

Something he effortlessly elicits from you now. Has done so since the very beginning. A thing he continues to do so the more the two of you speak.

It's giddy, almost teenage-like, the way your heart scampers to catch itself as your fingers try to pretend they're not darting to reply.

Excuse me? Rain. Oh, that is such a dad joke. It was. I’m pretty proud of it. Bet it made you smile. I will not confirm or deny. So that means it did. Shut up.

Thumbs swirling over the screen, you roll your lips, toes twitching on the floor as you grin.

So, how big is the candle going to be in the middle of the table? Ummm, appropriately sized for a restaurant? Hmm, I have only gone on dates with inappropriately sized candles. Are you flirting with me when I’m at work? Are you saying that like you don’t flirt with me when I’m at work? In my defence, you choose your own hours. Do you mind me flirting with you? Not even a little bit. Good. Because guess what I’m wearing right now? Hopefully nothing. I’m wearing sweats and a baggy T-shirt. Still hot. Get back to work, Butterscotch.

You know it’s not long—a handful of hours until you’ll be across from him.

Likely with your smile hurting your cheeks, eyes unable to stand looking away from him for more than a few minutes. Unable to explain or rationalise how straightforward it is with him, how natural it feels to get swept up in all of this and find yourself wanting to be around him.

Something you try to put to the back of your mind, to not clock-watch, not count down. Doing well at it until you hear your phone buzz and see his name appear on your screen.

The laundry you're putting away ignored, the item dropped from your hand to the floor, before wiping your hands on your thighs, taking a measured breath, then lifting the phone to swipe it.

His voice fills your ear almost immediately. All hello and your name, a can you hear me? following.

And your heart skips a beat—missing a whole thud against your ribs as you stare at the outfit hanging on the closet door.

“I’m really sorry—“

And your heart falls. Descends gradually, like a feather freefalling. Doing so until it has nowhere else to go but sit in the hollow void. Disappointment beating, pulsating.

“—Harold… he had to leave early, his heart was playing up and he said he’d come back. But I can’t make him do that, wouldn’t be able to enjoy ourselves if he just—"

“—Frankie—“

“—And I’ve tried to move the reservation, rang the restaurant. But, they’re booked up and I really want to take you there—”

“—Frankie?”

You brush the fabric, the hanger holding on to the top of the door with sheer will as you do so between thumb and finger. Half-smiling—even still. Listening to the way he takes a breath, to the way he cares so much.

“It’s okay,” you interrupt, swallowing, shoving the dismay down. “I… promise.”

The voice you hear back is soft. So tinged with sadness, and regret, you half-want to call him Butterscotch just to make him laugh. “You sure?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you reassure him, comfort him—voice steady as you do so, "We can reschedule. It's not a problem."

A moment of silence follows, with a sense of letdown settling in the air like fog. It sits there, resting, hanging. Because even if you know it’s just a minor adjustment, a twinge of disappointment still seeps in. Not so much a sharp pang, but a lingering weight that makes your shoulders sag, as though everything had deflated like a balloon slowly losing air.

“Baby… I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you assure him, a smile making its way onto your face despite the circumstances. "There's always next time."

“Not drove you away then?” he half-laughs, one you imagine is a little forced.

“Not even a little bit.”

Sighing, you swear you hear him smile with it. “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

You grin, nothing but light and easy, “Just make sure next time you can show up, that’ll be a good start."

Frankie laughs, it flowing down your ear before it’s joined by a promise that he will and he can call you later, if you like? A thing which sounds like a good idea, even more so when it's followed by the fact he wishes he could stay—talk, but you know. Nodding to no one but yourself as you bid him goodbye, leaning against the wall—hanging up, full of bittersweet.

You let your head fall against it, rolling it there as your eyes flick back up at your clothes, lingering over it.

And an idea appears.

It grows—smothering over sadness before it blooms.

Then, you’re grinning. One almost as large as you do when he makes you giggle. Almost.

You’re thankful the sign still says open when you step out of your car—fingers tugging at fabric, ensuring it sits how it’s supposed to.

Even for a surprise, you wanted to look as picture-perfect as you should have been entering the restaurant. The paper bags catch your leg, noise crinkling against the air as you yank on the handle—entering, being washed in wood chippings, bleach and paint.

For a moment, one stuck between time and space, you look. Glance. Unsure where to find him, until your eyes land on him and find his head lifting at the sound of your entering.

Whatever Frankie had been in his hand dropped, all forgotten. His mouth parting at the sight of you. Taking you in. Sweeping brown, surprised eyes all over you as heat rises up your neck and brushes over your ears.

“I know I’m a little overdressed for buying a hammer, but…”

Mouth falling open, he looks torn between grinning and speaking. “What are you…”

Shrugging, watching his eyes roam up and down the outfit you’d chosen. The one that had been on the hanger for days—one you’d not thought could be replaced by anything else.

“Well,” you begin, smirking, “My date got caught up at work and I’d been really looking forward to seeing him.”

Frankie smiles, hand rubbing along his jaw as he stares.

“But then, someone told me there’s a secret restaurant here. One behind a metal door that says, Staff Only?”

Dropping his hand, and swiping his tongue across his lips—he slowly moves around the register. Coming to join you as you hold the bags up, the heels of your shoes clicking on the shop floor tiles as you meet him halfway.

“I also suspect that you might not have eaten, since you've been alone for most of the day.”

It’s at that moment his stomach roars. It grinds, what you assume is coffee, before groaning inside of him as he claps a hand on his apron.

“The only problem is,” you say, narrowing your eyes, scrunching your nose. “I… I didn’t know what you would like, so I might have bought a ridiculous amount of food.”

Taking a bag, his eyes widen when he opens it. “You’re staying, right? To help me?”

Reaching inside the bag he didn’t take, you pull out a single, battery-powered candle. “It’s a date.”

He gives you a wide smile, his eyes twinkling with happiness. "I just need to lock up," he says.

You watch with a flutter of excited nervousness as he moves around the store, flipping the sign on the door from 'Open' to 'Closed', and then securing the door. The lock clicks into place, echoing in the quiet store. He then proceeds to shut off the lights, plunging the store into a soft, inviting darkness lit only by the glow from the streetlights outside.

Turning back to you, he extends a hand.

"Shall we?" he asks, his voice filled with anticipation. You place your hand in his, feeling the warmth spreading through your fingers.

As you walk together towards the back of the store, a tinge of excitement flutters in the air. The 'Staff Only' sign looms above the door like a secret entrance to a place you shouldn't be, but with a gentle gesture, he ushers you inside.

You don't miss the way his fingers brush your lower back, the heat they ignite up your spine as his chest meets your back, face close to yours. Lingering, eyes sweeping over you.

"Lemme just..." he whispers, elongating it, before he bends to pull you a chair out—one with three wheels, no back—fingers sliding up to brush over your shoulders as you sit down.

“Careful.”

Swallowing, you suppress the effect he's having on you, forcing a smirk. “Oh, I’ll try, Morales. Don’t want you to have to fill out the accident book.”

“Harold would murder me.”

Snorting, you watch him join you—taking the candle from your hand, flicking it on and placing it directly in the middle before the two of you begin taking food out. He gazes at bundled packaged burgers, stealing a fry from the bag before it’s laid out over the desk.

“So, as it’s our third date.” His eyes flick to you, mid-bite of his food as you twirl a fry in your fingers. “I get to ask you challenging questions, right?”

“Fuck,” he says, under his breath. Grinning. “Alright, let me have it.”

Nudging him with the tip of your shoe he laughs. “Okay. You and Luca’s mom?”

“Ah.”

Grabbing a napkin, he wipes his mouth. “You don’t have to worry.”

“And as everyone in history knows, those words are how people stop worrying.”

Smirking, he turns on the wheely stool, facing you, knees abutting yours. “We haven’t been together since he was born—we… we weren’t even together by the time he reached six months. He… he doesn’t know any different. We have things we say, and truly, she’s a fantastic mom, we have a great co-parenting situation.”

“Okay.”

His fingers land on your knee, dancing over them, light and feathery as he sighs. Heavy. Weighted. It makes you swallow, makes you want to dig your fingers into your leg to stop yourself worrying, thinking—overdramatising whatever it is.

Scratching his head, he rolls his tongue from his cheek to the front of his teeth. “I wasn’t a good person then… a lot of shit had happened—I’d left the service, found myself… haunted, I guess? Me and her, we met, we… seemed good. She seemed good. And then, I…”

Your hand slides over his, one of your fries still in hand as you do. “You don’t have to tell me.”

“I want to.”

Nodding, he half smiles.

And then he does.

He tells you about his days in the army—and the sleepless nights when he was back home. The sense of loss he felt without it, the uniform that meant nothing when he joined a regular job. How flying helicopters for people with money who had no cares in the world began to make him hollow, carving a piece inside of him that didn’t fill with laughter at barbecues and trivia nights. He tells you how he’d rambled to someone about the lack of sleep, before he found a little white bag in his locker—an opportunity, a chance to not overthink.

That it had stayed there for days, almost a week until there had been news about someone he had once worked with.

Then he explained how it wasn’t a problem, but it also very much was. How he was lost, drowning—that people reached out, but the lights had been on, but no one was home. How it became a coping mechanism, a small dose to take the ache away—before he learnt he was going to be a dad. Her worries about him making her ignore the signs, much further on than they thought—and then, one month later, how he failed a drug test.

Trace amounts, barely anything, but still plenty.

His license, revoked—paused. His future dwindled, a baby due to arrive, one he’d heard the heartbeat off at the same time as he found himself at the threat of being alone. A second chance dangled, offered—do better, Frank. Don’t be selfish.

“—but, I didn’t change. Don’t change.”

Your heart falls, and descends.

Watching him shake his head, grabbing a handful of fries before stuffing them into his mouth as he chews, and you pick at one from your own box.

“Things were good—Luca, he had ten toes, ten fingers. He was great, happy. It made us being good seem real? But, it lingered, y’know? If work kept me later, there was this distrust, this question. And I couldn’t blame her, didn’t. Never would either. I broke that, I know I did. But…”

“It wasn’t healthy?”

Shrugging, he swallows, before nodding. “Then, I helped a friend, one from my squad. Had to… it was dangerous. I was gone longer than I said—and she worried, panicked. I knew before I left that when I got back I’d likely find my stuff packed—not that I blame her. I know we tried. But, I broke it. But now we’re better… better co-parents than partners, you know?”

Nodding, you chew, rolling the salt on your lips together. A beat passes, ice clanging in the drinks, cartons scratching against the table as the two of you eat.

“That was probably a lot.”

“It’s okay. Are you… are you good now?”

Nodding, he chews another fry. “Clean since Luca was born. Five years, fifty-seven days.”

“Well, I know this might be weird to say, but I’m proud of you.”

Smiling, he chews his cheek, meeting your eyes for the first time since he began sharing. “You’re a bit too good for me, you know that?”

Smirking, you steal one of his fries. “Oh, a hundred per cent. You might have a bunch of followers and good taste in paint colours, but did you know that I can sand down a dresser to the point a prominent Instagram DIYer has told me ‘I did a good job’.”

“Doesn’t sound that trustworthy. Bet he doesn’t know what you call wrenches.”

Pouting, you narrow your eyes as he laughs. “Thank you for telling me.”

Nodding, he rolls his lips. “I had to… ‘cause… are we enacting third date-talk honesty?”

“Of course.”

Half-smiling, he nudges himself closer on the stool. “I really like you.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you look up at the ceiling, before grabbing his knees and wheeling yourself closer. “I quite like you too.”

Smile spreading, he places his hands on top of yours. “Yeah? Because I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to… run from all of that.”

Smirking, you try to move closer, even if the wheels of both stools try to prevent you. “Did you know, honesty is really, really hot?”

Brows raising, chin lifting, his lips slide further into his cheek. “I’m glad you came.”

“I’m glad too.”

Swallowing, his fingers slide in between yours, eyes flicking from one eye to the other. “I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous, that.”

“Well, I’ve seen your house now.”

Nodding, you smile. Feeling it, whatever he’s going to say, ask, think lingering in the silence. His grin widens, a spark igniting in his eyes that sends a rush of warmth through you.

“So, I think it only seems fair you see mine.”

Wiping your hands on your napkin, licking your lips as you cross a leg over the other. “Well, for fair sake I definitely should.”

“Do you want to… now?”

“Tonight?”

Nodding, that same flush of pink rises up his neck, up his jaw.

Smirking, you loosen your hand from his—resting your palm on his cheek, elbow on your knee. “I’d like that.”

The car ride to his should be tense, but it isn't.

Instead, it's filled with soft laughter, teasing comments and shared glances—your fingers twitching, wondering whether a hand on his knee is too soon. Even when everything else feels so normal, natural.

When he pulls up outside his place, anticipation fills the air—a rush of warmth flooding through you, making your fingers clamp together and stare out at the place as he says, this is it.

It’s nice, well-kept—charming, from what you can already tell. Eyes spot chalk drawings on the patio, lit up by the outside lights and a plastic red car close to where he's parked.

“Luca has some good parking,” you smile, pointing to it next to you both. “You learn from him, or?”

Smirking, he undoes his belt. “Maybe, I taught him how to park. I’m very good with heavy transportation.”

You don’t miss the way he emphasises the sentence. Your 'oh' is swallowed by the sound of him opening the door and telling you to wait.

Watching as he moves around the vehicle, his eyes holding yours. Earlier, you'd been thankful that the rain had taken a pause; now you wished it hadn't stopped its lashings that glued clothing to skin, thighs pressing together on the seat before the door beside you opens.

“What a gentleman.”

“Just wanted another chance to chance to check you out, really.”

Swatting him, he takes your hand, his laugh blending with yours as he leads you up to his front door.

If he feels nervous, he doesn’t show it. Finding his keys and slides one into the lock without missing. Opening the door without as much as an awkward shove of the door.

If anything, it’s effortless. It not even squeaking or catching as he pushes it open.

“It’s not a lot…” he begins.

But he couldn’t be more wrong.

It’s cosy and warm. Exuding an unmistakable homeliness that immediately comforts you. Dark woods, off-whites, and splashes of orange, caramel, and greens intertwine harmoniously, creating a space that feels both freshly decorated and deeply loved. A balance you assume exists because of him being the one to bring it all together, knowing from the videos you've seen how talented he is.

As you glance around, you begin to see the traces of the Frankie you’ve been getting to know. Photographs of him at the beach, with his son, with friends and more with Luca at varying ages.

Then, there are the plants. An assorted mix of them, some big that you remember from photos, some greener than others—some tall and in plants with animal faces like raccoons and beavers, others in decorative pots placed on shelves.

As you step in further, you spot furniture you recognise from videos—even noting the stacked pile of books from a photo he’d shared recently and a record player on a side table.

“C’mon, let me show you around.”

He leads you, hand in yours, showing you his well-equipped kitchen, and dining space. Occasionally, he points things out, like the markings on a wall he’s using to measure how tall Luca gets and the scuff marks from dragging the dining table in after varnishing it. Before finally, the two of you are outside the half-open door to his bedroom.

Frankie giving you a wink, bodies almost flush.

“That where the magic happens?”

“Not usually…”

"Maybe that's cause people haven't been saying the right magic words." Shrugging, you lick your lower lip, staring at the beading on the door. "I should tell you, I've heard I'm quite good at magic words..."

You let it linger, sit. Before you turn on your heel, fingers brushing over a table as you head back in the direction of his living room.

He follows, a step or two behind, letting you and your eyes capture all the personal touches before you feel fingers on your wrist, tugging you back, body flush to his.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, you find your throat dry—eyes flicking to his mouth.

“Go take a seat, I’ll bring us a drink.”

It’s soft, the nod you do as he slips his hand from your waist. You move, almost on auto-pilot, to sit down on his sofa, running your fingers over a cushion—one stitched with greens, golds and oranges.

When he reappears, you look up at him, noticing the hint of nerves in his gaze as you plaster on a reassuring smile as he places them down on the coffee table.

Slowly, you reach out, squeezing his hand, "Your home is lovely, Frankie."

He chuckles, a soft blush creeping up his cheeks as he joins sitting down. "Yeah?"

Nodding, you press your knee against his. “So.”

“So.”

With a smirk, you draw a measured breath. “I believe... I want to kiss you now.”

Swallowing, his gaze flickers to your lips, lingering, before snapping back up to your eyes. Warmth spreads over your cheeks, neck and ears. “I believe you should, Rainy.”

A response there, nestled between teeth and tongue, is muffled as his lips meet yours—for the first time in several days.

an: as a warning, the next chapter will include smut. if you wish to skip the smut, you can miss the chapter as there will be no other scenes. the following chapter will pick up the next morning.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

#frankie morales x reader #francisco morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales #triple frontier x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #francisco catfish morales x reader #catfish morales x reader #pedrostories #jo: dmy

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missglaskin · 2 years

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Perv!Aemond, Perv!Aegon, Perv!Jacaerys headcanons (separate)

This was for a friend who gave me the idea also it’s their birthday so

Men were not to be trusted, but certainly not the one you spent most of your life with.

Tags: Explicit, Non-con, dark & toxic behavior, innocent/naive!reader, coercion, manipulativeness, gaslighting, corruption kink, painful first time, childhood friend!reader

Aemond

As an outsider, it made sense for you to befriend Aemond, who felt the same way, but since claiming Vhagar and losing his eye; Aemond has changed. Still, he treated you with a sort of gentleness and consideration. Though you've not been made aware of the one-eyed prince's desire for you.

He doesn’t feel any guilt over his perverted thoughts. And while he didn’t express those feelings openly, he wasn’t doing much to hide them, either. Your naivety was quite amusing and the times he contemplated corrupting your innocence or indulging in it.

It almost turns into a game for Aemond to see how much he can get away with. Pretending to reach for your necklace, yet his fingers accidentally happen to brush against your chest. Or perhaps placing his hand on your thigh whenever you’re seated together.

But you never seem to suspect him. Instead, you act as though you have complete trust in him, lifting your dress to reveal your bare thighs to the prince as you leap over a branch or open the door wearing a nightgown that leaves little to the imagination.

Occasionally, Aemond takes you flying with him on Vhagar. Too focused on watching the ground beneath you and feeling the wind on your face, you don’t notice how Aemond has pressed himself so firmly behind you. Then again, you are no dragonrider, so perhaps that is how it is.

Over the years, you’ve gotten used to Aemond’s fingers caressing your face, often wiping your tears away. But since the day Aemond turned into a man; there hasn’t been an innocent touch. As now, you can feel his fingers lightly brushing against your mouth with his thumb skimming the base of your lip.

Has you seated on his lap, you trust him don’t you? Besides, it’s not like you can exactly deny him, either. Though you’re confused when he makes you straddle one of his thighs instead as he engages in a ‘conversation’ with you. To which he accidentally raises his thigh, brushing up against your cunt; chuckling when he hears you gasp.

Even before the night, he had taken your maidenhood. Aemond has already seen your naked body more times than he can count. Intruding in your chambers without knocking and remaining in the room when it’s time for you to undress. Aemond is aware of the power he holds over you and that you'll not resist him. What a delicate, innocent flower that ended up in a dragon's jaws.

Aegon

Even someone as gullible as you were aware of Aegon's perversions, but because you were his close friend, you assumed you were immune to his vices. In reality, it’s far from it. Regarding his depraved thoughts about you, Aegon has no sense of guilt or shame.

Has masturbated to the thought of you more times than he can count. Many of your attires have been stolen by Aegon, who has them spread out on his bed as he masturbates while holding it close, imagining you beneath him. He preferred to steal your nightgowns, wrapping them around his pillows.

He enjoys sneaking glances at your chest and isn't very good at concealing his gaze. Your nipples must be perky, and Aegon can only imagine how good they'll feel in his mouth. Intentionally, he advises you to wear gowns that’ll reveal more of your chest and curves.

Among the numerous servants and whores he indulges in; he constantly tries to find one who most closely resembles you. Yet something is always off; perhaps they lack the scar or beauty mark you have. More than often, they sound nothing like you and he often demands them to be quiet so he can try to indulge in the fantasy.

As creepy as it sounds, he likes to watch you eat. Watching you consume creamy desserts causes his thoughts to wander. And would give you fruits like strawberries that would squirt juice when you bit into them. Upon seeing the juice drip from your mouth, he moves quickly to wipe it away with his finger before placing it back in his mouth and asserting that it indeed tastes sweet.

Your first kiss was with Aegon. The two of you have crossed so many boundaries that you are unaware that what you are doing is not typical of friends. Aegon assures you it is and claims your kisses bring him luck. And eventually, little pecks developed into make-out sessions.

Aegon has soon begun touching you inappropriately, just like he did with all those servants. He tried persuading you that all he was doing was making sure your body was healthy and functioning properly. And when you tried to object, Aegon insisted you should trust him as he’s your friend. And soon he would take you for a "check-up" every other day. With his hands between your legs and his mouth on your nipples.

Eventually, those 'check-ups' become something more when Aegon lays you on his bed, promising he’ll make a woman out of you. When he takes your maidenhood, you break down in tears and say it hurts. He just hushes you; assuring you it’ll all be over and it’ll start feeling good. He has ruined you. Now no one else will have you.

Jacaerys

Jace feels horrible thinking such thoughts. He knows they are wrong and wonders what kind of friend he is to consider such things. Jace even attempted to avoid you in an effort to lessen his guilt, but to no avail.

Jace has been known for his protectiveness. Most of the altercations he got in trouble with involved you, going against potential suitors or anyone who says the slightest remark. Jace prohibited you from having any male friends saying they'll take advantage of you ironic.

As he embraces you, he’s unable to resist the urge to inhale your scent. Any fragrance you use will swiftly be taken by Jace, who sprays it all over his room, particularly on his pillows. Sometimes he buries his face into the pillows while jerking off.

When you were sleeping close to his company, you sensed the presence of another leaning in for a quick kiss. It’s Jace who has long wondered what it will be like for your soft lips to touch his. It’s not the first time you have caught him in the act, and certainly not the last.

As children, you and Jace often slept in the same bed. His mother said nothing, as the two of you were children. Yet, you still woke Jace in the middle of the night, asking to sleep with him as you had a nightmare. Jace wants to say no, not trusting himself in these circumstances. But seeing your tears and how shaken you’re, he gives in.

The whole night Jace couldn’t sleep, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. That night, he didn't touch you at all—at least not your body. It took all his willpower not to. As his hand reaches for your attire and lifts it up, revealing your body to him, he realizes that although he has always battled his demons, this time they have prevailed.

That night made something inside of Jace snap. No matter how many defenses or explanations he can muster, he is a terrible person, and there is nothing he can do to change that. He has in become bolder the days after that. Hesitantly placing a hand on your thighs or pressing his face into your neck.

You’re baffled when Jace one day approaches your chamber without warning and seizes your lip in a desperate kiss. For there he confesses his desires and lust, pleading with you to end his suffering. He finally smiles when you allow him to take off your clothes and lay you down on the bed. It was just the two of you for that brief instant.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #x reader #reader insert #headcanons #smut #house of the dragon smut #hotd smut

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campoverlook-if · 3 months

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Welcome to Camp Overlook, Where We're Stronger Together!

DEMO LINK ll Updated: 4/26/24 ll Wordcount: 70k [W/O Code], 16k [Average]

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Secrets are all around you in the small town of Crescent Cove, and its local summer camp, Camp Overlook. A place where childhood memories mix with the unsettling realities of the unknown.

A place once known for freedom and friendship, is now shrouded in flickering lights crawling around the woods and campers vanishing into thin air. Far hidden in Hudson Forest is the truth of any person's most horrid nightmares.

As a counselor, you are entrusted with guiding a group of youngsters through their formative days of self-discovery as you grapple with the disturbing circumstances around you.

Whether you are a newbie or a returning former camper yourself, the secrets of the woods are still ominous and crippling. Among the cheer of camp, eerie events unfold before you.

Is Mr. Adams, the cheerful camp director, still a jolly man, or is there something now hidden beneath the surface? Is Crescent Cove, the quiet little mountain town, hiding a secret so great that it will do anything to keep it covered? Are the campers, lovable and rebellious, exhibiting behavior that goes against their nature?

Camp is supposed to fun, so why are you running for your life?

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Setting: Crescent Cove, USA (Fictional Small Town)

Genre(s): Horror, Mystery, Drama, Romance

Warning(s): This is an 18+ story for depictions of violence, death, sexual themes, and child endangerment.

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Customizable MC - Name, gender, appearance, sexuality, and personality are all choosable aspects to make your counselor.

Get To Know Your Little Campers - The kids look up to you at the end of the day and their relationships with you reflects on the story.

Discover The Mystery of Crescent Cove - Learn the truth on what exactly happened thirty years ago that changed a small town forever.

Find A Summer Lover - Choose from thirteen ROs all looking for someone to love. Maybe you’ll find more than just one...

Meet Your New Best Friends - Create lasting friendships that survive the test of time. Or lifetime rivals that are ready to hurt you at any chance.

The Camp Needs You - Save your friends and protect the camp, or watch it all disappear before your eyes.

Lucas [M] - The King of the Woods

Stuck up, arrogant, and just one half of an irritating duo. Lucas always has to have the last word and the last thing anyone needs is to hear him whine about not getting it. It doesn’t help that the staff like him, the liar. Just be sure to stay out of his way or else.

Asher [NB] - The Sleeping Angel

Completely checked out of life, or at least, that’s what Asher wants everyone to think. There’s just a little something more hiding under that quiet exterior but Asher isn’t the type of person to open up to just anyone. They’ve got demons in their closet, and they’ve come along to camp for the ride.

Jack/Jasmine [M/F] - The Wise Old Tree

If anybody can round up a group of rowdy kids and teens together its this counselor. Calm and collected, they're there when the situation loses control and everyone needs to be working together on the same page. But this personality wasn’t perfected over night and even the calmest of seas can swallow those around them below.

Ethan/Ella [M/F] - The Friend of None

What some may call everyone’s best friend, they're at this camp for one thing and one thing only. To make a summer that’ll last forever. Leader of the pack, they know how to get the populous together and have a good time. But even the party animal has to get tired at some point and it's those moments when the real them emerges.

Ruby [F] - The Little Red Hen

Soft-spoken, polite, and kind to a fault. Ruby is the person you want when you need a comforting hand. A true healer and guiding life even if she is a little shy around others. But all healers have a story, Ruby just doesn’t have the cure to make it all go away.

William/Willow [M/F] - The Undisguised Wolf

They say if you gaze into the abyss, it tends to gaze back and tells you what you’re made of. That’s how it feels when this quiet storm enters a room, the room grows cold and the fun dies out. No one knows what lurks behind those eyes, and no one knows for sure if they’re the eyes of a monster.

Oliver/Olivia [M/F] - The Two-Faced Lover

Excitable, sweet, just the happiest bubble around. Around most people at least. But really, they're just an actor who knows how to play their part. No one knows the real them and maybe that's starting to have a toll on them. But it’s not like they can suddenly do a 180 and show the world who they really are. At least that’s what they like to think.

.....and seven others to discover! (Character Bios Here)

#camp overlook #interactive fiction #demo #dashingdon #horror #interactive game #hosted games #choice of games #wip #choicescript #if wip

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 4 months

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VENUSIAN UPGRADES - WHAT DOES VENUS HAVE IN STORE FOR YOU?

What does Venus have in store for you? Pick a number and get a feel of what its saying with some numerology secrets!

There is also a bonus part of this reading to help with your souls desires!

The bonus reading does not have a numerology decoding.

This is an Intuitive Reading.

What do you have to do to upgrade yourself?

414, 333, 222, 111, 1212, 17 , 85

414

4+1+4= 9

9- new beginnings , endings, letting go, cycles changing

4 - foundation, being centered, earthly bounds, physical reality

1 - do it yourself, ego, enjoyment, the sun, let it shine

“Joyous Fun” (The Quantum Oracle)

Its time to enjoy yourself for once, love. Go on that shopping spree. Enjoy that scenery. Make moves and enjoy the dance. You have to let go. Laugh it out. The world is yours.

“Sacrifice” (The Psychic Tarot)

Your past life is not your current one. You can change your life at any given moment. Be yourself and let go of that super serious character.

Sacrifice does old thought patterns that tell you that you cant have fun at the moment. That’s a lie. Be more joyful even if it doesnt make sense.

333

3+3+3= 9

9- new beginnings, endings, letting go, cycles changing

3- creation, adventure, joy, life, control, expansive

“Optimism”

Its easier for you to get what you want if you just believe. Your willingness is what connects you to your divine feminine. Be like the ocean, in flow and in love with life. Be your best self, it attracts the suitors!

“Mental Conflict” (The Psychic Tarot)

Move on from those old wave patterns. Just like your friend 414, your mindset is the primary problem as to why you won’t leap. The number 333 relies on your faith. That’ll be how you secure your desires. You can only go by what you know, sure.. but what happens when you take that leap without knowing how deep you will fall? It only goes up from here. Do what it takes to be the butterfly. You have what it takes. Dont forget to smile while doing it ;)

222

2+2+2 = 6

2 - love, relationships, partnership, connection

6 - Harmony, family, love, relationships, art, creativity

“Teacher” (The Quantum Oracle)

You’re Venusian upgrade counts on you to be the master at your craft. You have goals that you should continue focusing on and enjoying the work you’ve put into them. Be patient and listen out for new information given to you by the divine at this time.

Show the world what you’re good at, and host gigs that show off your skill. People are fascinated by what you do, and what you know. Be open to sharing with us what ideas, thoughts, and talents you have because people will listen.

“Spiritual Strength” (The Psychic Tarot)

Your spirit upgrade needs time in meditation and getting to express your outer world with calmness and peace. Work on creating a spiritual routine where you can embrace the moment ahead. The power is your subconscious mind, take time to focus on reality as is, and work towards being a mentor, volunteering to be of service, and helping others in need.

111

1+1+1 = 3

1 - do it yourself, ego, enjoyment, the sun, let it shine

3 - 3- creation, adventure, joy, life, control, expansive

“Fear” (The Quantum Oracle)

Underneath all that fear is the most beautiful essence there is. Why do you hide yourself? Be more kind to yourself and let the rage burn. Let your soul feel all those feels and let out a big roar. Dont be scared to show people who’s under all that love you give yourself when no ones watching. You are a light, truly.

“Mental Conflict” (The Psychic Tarot) + Angels Of The Four Directions (The Quantum Oracle)

Subconscious thoughts need work. Focus on positive words for healing yourself. Your angels want you to pick where you go next. You can be anything you want. Just make sure to balance your mind-body-spirit with being more thankful of your growth and challenge yourself every time you feel that annoying fear.

1212

1+2+1+2 = 6

1 - do it yourself, ego, enjoyment, the sun, let it shine

2 - love, relationships, partnership, connection

6 - Harmony, family, love, relationships, art, creativity

“Status Quo” (The Quantum Oracle)

Travel! Travel! Travel! New adventure awaits darling. Whats stopping you? Create new memories by just experiencing a new horizon. A road trip, a bus ride or a plan ticket is what you need to invest in and go enjoy the scenery. This could be calling you to move across the city, state, or country. Either or its asking you to enjoy the motion that is forever changing. This is what we need to embrace our divine feminine flow!

“Flower” + “Scorpion” (Nature & Soul)

As change in scenery is good, it helps to transform you and your perspective on the way things should go. Be more open to new places, new jobs, new people from all cultural backgrounds. You shine the most when you explore your options. Take care of yourself by being down for the ride.

1+7 = 8

1 - 1 - do it yourself, ego, enjoyment, the sun, let it shine

7 - mysticism, spiritual, luck, god, the creator, universe

8 - transformation, power, the will, change

“Joyous Fun” (The Quantum Oracle)

Your luck comes in by the enjoyment you allow to grow in your life. You should try having fun at a concert, going to a art exhibit, or just simply finding the laughter and joy in just being. Experience the moment and allow your life to sore. You may not know the answers to everything but when you truly move forward in just doing something it gets favored. Take a chance on living! You never know what you might get ! ;)

“Foundation & Achievement” (The Psychic Tarot)

Its incredible to be able to live the life we want to live but how are you going to receive it? Start slow and relax. Still take moments out of your day to find the time to be in pure bliss. You dont have to stop your life to ‘have everything in place’ like you think.

8+5 = 13 / 1+3= 4

8 - transformation, power, the will, change

5 - change, adventure, the mind, agility

13 - divine feminine, transformation, ‘the witch’

(For this reading 13 is divine order. Its the mother/universe. The feminine urge)

“Courage” (The Quantum Oracle)

Take pride in who you’re ancestors made you to be. You got the juice. You're the originator. The trendsetter. The one who starts it all. They may not get it now, but they’ll play catch up later. Take control on how the world sees you, thats your gift. You control the cards. They wish they had it like you, however they dont know what darkness you had inside of you alchemizing itself into power.

Your power causes reactions out of people that can attract or repel. You’re a magnet to others emotions but this is how you keep balance. Being who you are proudly causes others to look at themselves deeper to the point it shifts their thinking. You mirror those who need healing, they cant take you with them to their shadowy nightmares but you sure can bring it out of them. Dont let them get to you, they just wanna see you down because you’re too high for em.

“Peacock” Nature & Yoga

Beauty is surrounding you. Be cautious with who you let in your circle. They’re not deserving of you. Be kind as what comes around goes around. If they’re not kind back, it will surely come back to them. You’re mother natures brightest jewel, they cant keep treasure hiding for ever. Be open to letting the world see your new self. Its time to embrace that beautiful nature of yours. The world needs to see it.

Bonus Reading

(this one will not have numerology decoding)

212, 999, 1111, 717, 888, 777, 33

212

Throat Chakra

Speak highly of yourself. Have more higher standards for others and tell them about your boundaries.

999

Travel

Take a hike. Go to that new sushi restaurant. Try ice skating. Traveling is more than just going abroad. Take trips to different places you haven't been. It's all about changing your perception of reality with Venus. Be up for surprises.

1111

Fragmented Energy + Destiny

Have a better diet for yourself as your energy can be dense from having a poor diet. When our energy is low, we're not able to connect with ourselves, the intuition and the divine. Clarity is necessary for this new journey you're embarking. Time to change the environment you're in beloved.

717

Soul Mate Connection

So what I'm getting for this group is that a divine connection is going to bloom for you shortly. Be honest and vulnerable with this connection as this can bring in the rawest form of love you could possibly receive. This is a higher vibration. You're ready. Their is a need for soul growth in this connection so being who you're truly are to them will create a flow where you can build a garden with this beautiful connection(s).

888

LOTUS

Share the experience with everyone around. There is so much in store you just have to pick one. It's like wandas vision, you control where this movie goes. Your desires are getting a chance to bloom this season. Be grateful for all the universe brings, and you will see a whole fruitful banquet in front of you.

777

TRANSCENDENCE

Take a journey in the mind. The shrooms are calling for you to take a look. It's time to get more into the peace-light-love attitude. It'll calm you down. Your safe. Connect to the divine to embrace beauty in your life. Journal. Take a picture. Go outside and enjoy nature. River and taking hikes are significant here, as the silence in nature can give you the clarity you need. As well as grounding you to embrace yourself as nature itself.

CREATIVITY IN THE DARK

Embracing your darkness is where your true power lies. The gateway to your beauty is through the hidden realms of the psyche. Your power holds a force so powerful its harder for people to walk away. You have gifts in artistic endeavors that generate an audience and a source of income due your mind having access to cosmic gateways not many are willing to find themselves. Within that darkness is a skill in creation. Enjoying the arts not only gives you a place to enjoy, but to overcome obstacles. Let it go, and enjoy what your soul wants to say in the power of art.

#intuitive readings #venus #astrology #astrology readings #tarot #tarot readings #psychic #angel numbers #numerology decodings #fun #faith #worthy #venusian #venus in astrology #pick a card #pick a number #astrology observations #astrology community

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eyesthecolorofarson · 1 year

Text

Two weirdos

So i just had the weirdest/stupidest Dead Serious idea

So Dannys been Ghost King for a few millennia now and while Sam, Tucker and Jazz have been ghosts for a long time they still remember human customs and courtesies.

But since Danny is the Ghost King and directly connected to the Infinite Realms and all its weirdness, hes basically forgotten what it was like to be human. And that, along side his obsession, has lead to many a shenanigans.

Case and point, the situation today

—————

He'd been exploring when he found Him

It was supposed to be simple, relaxing. Fly around and take in the sights of a new dimension, watch the mortals go about their daily grind, soak in the ectoplasm that seemed to stick to this city like a plague.

But then he caught sight of Him

It was as if time and reality itself folded and paused, everything suddenly shifting until He was Danny could see

A boy so liminal, so dangerous and deadly yet still so human, running across the rooftops like a dark angel. With the rage he could feel, with the power so potent Danny could practically taste it, this boy–this human–was using it to protect

Danny felt his core sing, he felt his world shift until the boy was all he could see, he felt-he felt—

Love

that was it

Danny loved this boy, and he was positive the boy would love him

______

so instead of working on the fics I should be working on I’m doing this. So meet my Two Weirdos Damian/Danny Au! Where their both more than a little yandere for each other and everyone is concerned but them

fun facts about this AU:

Danny’s not a delusional yandere. Despite the way he acts he knows Damian won’t love him right away, and he doesn’t expect him to. Relationships are built on mutual understanding and trust, and Danny plans to work very hard to earn that

What he doesn’t expect is for Damian to be just as obsessed with Danny as he is him

it just makes him fall In love even more tbh

Speaking of Damian, meeting Danny is just as world-changing for him as it was for Danny

To him, it feels like a piece of him he didn’t even know was missing came back

His world becomes more colorful, breathing somehow becomes easier, everything is suddenly so full of life and he never wants it to go away

when he finds out about how obsessed Danny is with him he stops holding back all his weird urges

and they get weird

When the (rightfully concerned) batfam tell Damian about how Danny’s been watching him sleep, taking his hair, taking pictures of him asleep and even laying down with him—

—he admits without any shame whatsoever that if he had access to Danny’s bedroom he’d do the same thing

its all hopelessly romantic to him

and when they do interact? After years of stalking, watching, learning?

It’s like a dream come true

Finally, Damian thinks, a laugh to die for, a smile that’ll shake worlds, a desperate need for physical affection

And Danny? He’s on cloud nine, baby!

His love loves him too! His love wants to spend every moment with him! His love wants to watch him sleep!

They make a schedule-two nights Damian watches him, two nights Danny watches him, and three they sleep together

Everything is perfect—people who try to hit on Danny disappear, kids who make fun of Damian at school wake to find their family dead and no one willing to take them in

Damian tells Danny he wants to put a tracker on him

Danny says he put one on Damian the day they met

The batfam are so so concerned, Sam and Tucker think it’s hilarious, and Jazz is ok with it as long as no one’s feelings get hurt

#dead serious #damian x danny #damian al ghul #danny phantom #danny phantom au #Two Weirdos au #batfam #ghost king danny #yandere damian wayne #yandere Danny Phantom #It’s not toxic if their both a little insane

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queen-haq · 11 months

Text

Fic: A Woman Reborn - Part 25 (final chapter)

Pairing: Billy Russo X Reader (from A Woman Scorned)

Rating: R / 18+ only

A/N: This is a sequel to A Woman Scorned and takes place a few years after the events of AWS.

MasterList (includes links to AWS and previous chapters here)

Summary: You and Billy are happily married when tragedy strikes, jeopardizing your relationship and everything you two have built together. Can the two of you find your way back to each other or is the special bond you once shared broken forever?

Chapter 25

It had been two weeks since you returned home, and there had not been any contact with Billy during that time. Every night you read his letter, and all it did was confuse you and leave you with conflicting feelings. You appreciated his apology for the immense pain he caused, and there were moments when you wished you could get past everything and give into your feelings - but those feelings subsided and you longed for space again.

You scanned your empty apartment, looking so vast now that all of your stuff had been removed. Not that you’d ever been attached to the kitchen, but it made you uneasy every time you remembered that bitch Dumont attacking you in it. This place was home for only a short time, but now it was tainted and you didn’t want to be here any longer. You needed a fresh start, and that’s why leaving the city was important.

You asked for time and space… I’ll give it to you.

Billy had promised that in the letter, and kept his word. Which made your last two days at the cabin with him even more significant. But then reality had reared its ugly head, and he decided it was safe to return to New York City. Fisk wasn’t after them, Dumont was dead, and Frank didn’t know about Billy’s part in Cerberus - there was no longer any reason to hide from the world.

Lights flickered on and off at the various apartments in the building across from yours. Taking a sip from your plastic solo cup, you wondered if he was out there watching you right now. He may have promised time and space but all that meant was that he’d keep his distance. It didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep tabs on you. It’s who Billy was, it was part of his obsessive nature, and a facet of him you loved.

“Are you okay?”

Davina’s voice cut through the haze of uncertainty clouding your mind. “I’m fine.”

“Are you excited about the trip?”

You turned around to face your friend. “Kinda.”

“I think some time away will do you good.”

“I know, me too.”

“If you still have left anything in the office, I can go pick it up.”

“No, it’s fine. I got everything I needed.”

“Can’t have been easy,” Davina remarked.

You bit your cheek, sighing. “It wasn’t, but it was time. Frank and Curtis have a good handle on things.”

“And did you see Billy there?”

Your stomach twisted into knots at the mention of his name. “No. He knew I was coming so he stayed away.”

“He knows you’re leaving the country?”

“I texted him after. Told him to meet me at the airport.”

Davina looked concerned. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

You shrugged your shoulders, your gaze wandering over to where your suitcases were packed. “I’m not going to let him change my mind.”

“I kinda wish he would. I hate that you’re leaving, I’m going to miss you so much.”

You sent Davina a grateful smile. “Me too. But I need to get away and just leave-”

“-all this behind,” she finished for you. “I get it, you’ve been through a lot of shit in the past few years. You need a break.”

“I need a new life.”

“Hey, you might end up meeting some hottie on your new adventures that’ll change your life.”

You chuckled. That was Davina, eternal optimist. “Yeah, sure.”

The two of you finished your drinks and started doing a final check of the apartment before returning the keys.

***

You glanced down at your phone. An hour and a half hour before your flight. You were already checked in and your luggage dropped off, but you still had to go through security and it was a madhouse at the airport. Would Billy come? You didn’t know, but it was time to stop stalling. You scanned the area one last time before heading towards the security gate. It was only when you were close to the entrance that you spotted Billy. He was staring at you, watching you intently like he had a habit of doing. Your heart drummed, your stomach quivering. A part of you wanted to run to him, to abandon your plans and just lose yourself in his arms – but you couldn’t.

As you drew closer, you noted his heated glance. The scars on his face should have marred his good looks but instead he looked rugged, his imperfections making him even hotter. Billy was dressed in a charcoal grey suit with a crisp blue shirt underneath, his hands tucked into his pockets. Finally you came to a stop in front of him, ensuring there was enough distance between you two. Jaw clenched, he studied you with a burning intensity.

“So this is it. You’re leaving,” he finally spoke.

“I need to.”

“You want to,” he argued.

To anyone else his current tone would have reeked of contempt and hate, but you saw right through the façade and into the heart of a man who was hurt and afraid, a man desperate to love you. His body was taut with tension, anger screaming in his eyes, demanding your full attention.

“You don’t have to run to the other side of the world to get away from me. I promised you I’d leave you alone. I meant it.”

“Not sure I could stay away,” you confessed.

Hope flashed in his eyes for a fleeting moment. “You don’t have to.”

The lump in your throat hurt, your heart aching. “I do, Billy, I need to put space between us. I need to know that I can live in this world without you, that I can be happy.”

“You want to forget me,” he accused, his voice cracking. “Move on like I mean nothing to you.”

Unable to take the pain in his gaze, you lowered your eyes. “Maybe this could be a good thing for you too. Maybe you can-”

“What? Be the guy I was before I met you? The same guy who used to fuck everything that moved?”

It made you sick to your stomach to think of him with someone else. You gritted your teeth instinctively, glaring up at him.

Suddenly he stepped forward, narrowing the distance between you. His dark, molten eyes swept over your face, inhaling you in and consuming every inch of you with every breath. “You don’t like that, do you? Pisses you off, right? Me fucking other women?”

“Do whatever you want.”

“You’re who I want.” The intensity in his voice was intoxicating, his words tugging you towards him just as much as his hand that wrapped around your waist. “There’s no one else for me. Only you. And it’s fucking selfish of me, I know, but I don’t wanna be who I was before you.”

“You were happy then. Things were easier.”

“Fuck that!” He bent forward to lower himself to your height. “I was numb before you. You made me strong, you made me fucking feel. You’re in my blood and I’m never giving that up!”

“The last few years have been hell, Billy.” Tears stung the back of your eyes, you sniffled. “For both of us.”

“And we’re still here!” he said ferociously. “We still love each other even if you can’t say it. I’d destroy the fucking world for you and you’d do the same.”

“Too much has happened,” you whispered. “I need space-”

“I kept my distance, didn’t I? I fucking hate it but I’ve been staying away.” His other hand cradled your face, thumb swiping over your bottom lip as his gaze bore into you. “Don’t leave. Stay here. We don’t have to be together, but I need to know you’re okay.”

“I can still feel you around me, Billy. You’re always watching me and I can sense it, even though you’re good at hiding yourself.” You exhaled a short breath, your fingers quivering as you traced the scars on his face. “I’m weak when it comes to you. If you’re close by, I’ll run to you.”

Hurt flitted across his face. “And you don’t want that.”

“I’m still getting over everything that happened,” you admitted. “It’s too raw, that pain is still fresh. And ignoring it isn’t gonna help me, I know that. It’ll just make me hate myself more.”

Vibrating with emotion, he leaned closer to rest his forehead on your temple. “I don’t want that for you.”

“I know,” you signed, closing your eyes. You breathed him in, noting the new subtleties of the cologne he was wearing. You were familiar with his favourites but this was something new, not associated with notes that triggered memories of happier times.

There was chaos all around, crowds of people mulling around the airport but it didn’t seem to touch you and Billy. The two of you were in your own world, isolated from others.

“When I was in college I’d hear stories about people travelling through Europe, or going to Thailand and sleeping on the beach. Just getting away and having meaningful experiences, you know? I always wanted to go try something like that but back then I could never afford to travel.”

His fingers glided through your hair before fisting the strands, holding you tightly against him.

“I missed out on so many things because I was always too busy hustling.”

“Me too,” Billy admitted. “Growing up poor does that to you.”

“Now I actually have time to do this, and I want to take advantage of it. I want to do things I’ve never done before.”

“I could go with you,” he offered hesitantly.

“Then this whole trip would be about us, not me. I need this for myself, Billy.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh, hugging you. For a long time the two of you remained in each other’s arms, clinging to each other.

“You’ll come back to me?” he asked after a long while.

You didn’t want to give him false hope, you loved him too much for that. “I don’t know.”

His arms tensed, you felt his internal struggle to let you leave whilst growing desperate to hold on to you. He was in agony, his soul crying out to you.

“I love you. I always will.” His words weren’t tender nor gentle. No, they were immersed in rage and grief and loss and complete despair. He pulled away from you, his eyes red with tears while he reached into his pocket to retrieve something. You stared down at his palm, staring at the familiar jewelry box, one you thought was still locked away in your dresser. He snapped it open. You hadn’t realized it was missing yet there used to be a time when the engagement ring and wedding band were gilded around your finger. He gripped your hand with his own, thrusting the box into your palm, squeezing your joined hands together. “We own each other and that’s never gonna change. Doesn’t matter if you’re here or a million fucking miles away.” Lips pursed into a thin, angry line, he glowered at you. “Do whatever you have to, but next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.” Eyes fixed on you, he shut the lid close and returned the jewelry case back into his pocket.

Without another word he turned around and stormed away, leaving you with your heart lurching and your stomach in coils.

After he disappeared from your line of sight, you took a deep breath and headed for security.

*****

It wasn’t easy at first. You were a woman traveling alone, going to places that weren’t necessarily the safest. But eventually you managed to navigate your way through unfamiliar surroundings, be cautious and blend into crowds so that you didn’t stand out as a tourist. You learned to listen to your instincts but also put your guard down a little so you could enjoy yourself. You were always great at schmoozing so that skill came in handy when you met people from various sectors of life. You hung out with locals and tourists alike, and immersed yourself in the art and culture each country had to offer.

Days went by in a whirl; you were enraptured by the beauty of it all. Despite that, there was a hollow ache in your chest that never seemed to subside. It pricked at you when you were admiring Ophelia at the museum, or surrounded by stunning elegance of the Blue Mosque, or even when you were sitting with a group of people laughing and chatting. You even volunteered in some places, more to keep yourself busy than necessity. You were comfortable with your everyday life, maybe even happy, but your heart yearned for something more.

The days turned to weeks turned to months. In the blink of an eye, six months passed by. Maybe it was the wariness from long days of travel or simple stupidity on your part, but you grew complacent about safety when you were walking back to your hotel one night and were attacked.

The man tried to grab your purse, you put up a fight, and he started kicking you when suddenly a large dog came out of nowhere and jumped up at him. You stumbled onto the ground, dazed, watching after the robber while he fled. You glanced at the dog. Seconds ago he was a growling predator and now he was sniffing your feet. He only had one eye and was ugly as hell but the damn mutt had just saved your life so the least you could do was feed him. As if reading your mind, the beast followed you back to your hotel.

A month after that night, you started the paperwork required to adopt the animal. It was a difficult and expensive process, and for the first time in recent weeks you started worrying about finances. The money you’d allocated for the trip had been carefully budgeted, but spending so much on vet bills and administrative costs wasn’t something you had accounted for.

A week ago your bank balance was half of where it should have been before the beast came into your life. Tonight, your balance had been restored to its original amount. Someone had deposited a lot of money, and you knew exactly who it was.

Billy. The missing piece of your soul. Yet you hadn’t reached out to him in months, your fear stronger than your desire. But there was no way you could ignore this kind gesture.

Your heart was pounding in your chest when you dialed Billy’s number. There was a seven hour difference between your time zone and his. You were disappointed when he didn’t pick up, he was probably at work, you consoled yourself with the idea that this was probably for the best.

Later that night you were in bed with the beast sleeping on the floor when the phone rang. You picked it up haphazardly, half-asleep. “Hmm?” you mumbled.

“You called?”

Billy’s voice was a sudden jolt to your system, knocking you awake. Anxiety surged through you. You felt shy all of a sudden, almost embarrassed to speak to him. “Hi.”

There was a pause on his end. “Hi.”

“You deposited money into my account.”

“I did.”

“Thanks.” You bit down on your bottom lip. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

“I guess this means you have someone keeping track of my account?”

His tone took on a defensive edge. “I have to, don’t I? Not like you’d call me when you need something.”

The silence was palpable, filled with tension. It saddened you, knowing there was a time the two of you could talk for hours on end and now you could barely exchange a word with civility.

Minutes passed, the stillness grew. Yet you didn’t hang up, neither did he, the sound of your breaths supplementing the static in the call.

Billy was the first to break the silence. “I went on a date.”

It was the last thing you wanted to hear. His words were so rage inducing you wanted to scream, to stomp on your phone over and over again. You reminded yourself there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, he had every right to see other people. You hadn’t even promised to come back to New York. For all intents and purposes the two of you were done, but-

-but there was that potent jealousy rushing through your fucking nerves, ready to destroy Billy and his other bitch. “Fuck you!”

He sounded smug when he spoke next, even happy. “She reminded me of you, so I asked her out.” Billy was needling you on purpose. “Wanna know how it went?”

“You fucked her,” you seethed, gritting your teeth.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

The vulnerability in his voice took you by surprise considering he was acting so smug mere seconds ago. “Because I didn’t want her. I wanted to want her, but I fucking didn’t.”

“Because I’ve never been your type.”

“Because she wasn’t you.”

Billy had never been one to wax poetic about love or romance, but it was these rare moments when he was completely earnest that made your heart melt.

“You’re the only fucking woman I want.”

“I miss you.” You hadn’t intended to say it, not to him. Because admitting that meant exposing yourself, opening up your heart again, to him. Having hope when you should have known better. But now those carefully guarded emotions were out there and you couldn’t pretend they weren’t.

His voice was hoarse, ensconced in pain. “Say it again.”

You took a deep breath. “I miss you.”

“You sound fucking terrified.”

“Because I am.”

He exhaled a resigned sigh. “Do you mean it?”

“Yes,” you confessed.

There was a pregnant pause. “You’ll come back to me?”

There was that question again. The answer he wanted meant trusting him and risk getting your heart broken again, something you were still terrified of a few months ago when he’d asked you at the airport.

The fear was still there, that was undeniable, but there was also something else that was just as intense – hope, and a desire to make things work that hadn’t existed before. “Yes.”

“For good.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. Filled with so much joy and relief and pure happiness, the strain gone. “When?”

“Not yet,” you answered. “But soon.”

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait as long as it takes. But I need something from you, babe.” With no need to restrain himself any longer his voice grew velvety, reverberating with sexual energy. “I need to see that pretty pussy of yours.”

Immediately your body responded to his words, aching to have his mouth between your legs and going down on you. “Billy-”

“I get so hard just thinking of you. And I’ll probably get too excited when I see your sweet wet cunt but I need to, sweetheart, I need to look at you and taste you and smell you. I want to be inside you so badly… fuck… see you take my cock in, feel you squeeze me so tight…”

You moaned, you couldn’t help it, and so did he – the sound of his guttural groan so hot and sexy it instantly drove you wild.

Oh god. You could hear him, the throaty growls of pleasure from him jerking off to your voice. He was a vocal man during sex, always had been. And you fucking loved it. You missed it. You missed him.

And it was a huge relief to finally give yourself permission to admit that. Yeah he hurt you badly, and you did what you always did and hurt him back. Despite all that there were real feelings there, a true bond that connected the two of you intimately. No doubt you could be content without him but with him you could be happy. There was so much joy and wonder in the world and you wanted to share that with him.

“You have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he rasped.

“No. Tell me.”

There was a slight pause on his end, like your words took him by surprise. “You’re a goddamn tease, sugar.”

You smiled. “But you like that, don’t you? You like it when I’m on top and in full control. When I’m grinding down on your cock, Billy, teasing you with my pussy-”

There was that groan again, a raw sound of pleasure and frustration that hit just right.

“You remember the first time we had sex, Billy?”

“In the alley next to Piatti’s.”

You rolled your eyes. “That wasn’t our first time.”

“I remember it like it happened yesterday. I crashed your date with Roger and you were pissed at me.”

“It wasn’t a date-” You stopped yourself, refusing to argue with him about this. “It was the night you took me to the ballet.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“It was before the gala.”

“So?”

“I didn’t know the real you then.”

That was the thing with Billy. One minute he would frustrate you so much and the next he would say something so tender that you fell in love all over again. “It still counts,” you murmured.

“It doesn’t.”

“It was like our third or fourth date, I figured it was time we slept together. I was more nervous than excited-”

“Gee, thanks,” he muttered sarcastically.

“We went to the ballet but I couldn’t figure out why you even took me there. You looked so bored during it.”

“I hated that shit, thought you’d be into it.”

“Liar. You took all your dates there, I checked your credit card transactions the next morning.”

“Oh, that’s when you started hacking into my shit?”

You chuckled. “Wasn’t planning to. Just didn’t expect the sex to be so great.”

“Yeah?” You could practically see the arrogant grin on his face. “I got you all cock-crazy, huh?”

“Something like that.” You bit down on your lip, recalling the memories so clearly in your mind. Before then no guy had ever made you come, and Billy had done it multiple times that night. He had blown your mind in every way imaginable, marking the beginning of your obsession with him.

“Is that why you fell for me? ‘cause I fucked you good?”

While a ‘yes’ would’ve been an ego boost, you also saw through the façade of his seemingly casual tone. He wouldn’t like the foundation of your relationship to be a sexual one. Besides, it wasn’t true. “No, it was when I realized how alike you and I were. There was a side you showed to the world, then there was the real you, and they were polar opposites. I used to think I was the only one who acted that way.”

“You saw me for who I really was.”

You nodded your head instinctively. “Yeah.”

“And I saw you. I knew I was fucked from that night of the gala.”

“Bullshit,” you retorted.

“What? You don’t believe me?”

“You didn’t like me until way after.”

“Wrong,” he countered dryly. “That night was definitely the first time I caught feelings. And then every day after that I got sucked in more and more. Every time I thought I had you all figured out you surprised me. And I fell harder every time.”

You didn’t speak, simply digesting his words.

“My mother’s funeral, you remember that?” he prodded.

“Yeah.”

“I was all kinds of messed up that day and you were there for me, you didn’t leave. I thought that was it, you know. How I felt that day, that would be the extent of it. I was already head over heels. It couldn’t get more serious than that. Then I found you with Adam Preston.” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I had no fucking idea what I was in for.”

“You had your chance to leave. I told you not to get involved.”

Billy snickered. “Like I was gonna walk away after that.”

You pondered how major milestones in your relationship were built on a path of blood and violence. Adam. Roger. Even fucking Krista. Destroying them was what propelled the two of you closer. Would it always be like that? Or would you both grow out of it?

“What are you thinking about?” he probed.

“A normal life. You think that’s possible for us?”

“Is that what you want?”

You turned to your side. “I want you.”

There was a long bout of silence that followed. “Haven’t heard that from you in a long time,” Billy said.

“I know.”

“You left, Y/N. It’s been months!” His voice took on a harsh edge. “I haven’t seen you, haven’t talked to you. You have any idea what it’s been like without you? You’re out there living your goddamn life and I can’t even fucking breathe without you! Do you give a fuck about that?”

You reminded yourself to be patient. “I get that you’re pissed off-”

“You’re goddamn right I am!”

“But I’m not going to fucking apologize, Billy.” You stayed calm, refusing to let him rile you up. “I needed space, away from you, away from New York, away from everything that happened in the last few years.” You exhaled a deep sigh. “It’s been peaceful. I’m content. I’ve done things and travelled to places I never thought I’d get a chance to. And you know what doing that made me realize?” Your tone softened. “That I want to be with you. Billy, you make me happy.”

It was impossible to know but you sensed him trembling, as if your confession had expelled a rush of relief over him. He didn’t speak for a long time. Neither did you.

“When you come home to me, it’ll be for good. I’m never letting you go,” he declared.

“I know.”

There was a lull in the conversation again, a comfortable one this time.

“So? What’s been the best thing you’ve seen so far?” Billy asked. “What’s the shittiest?”

You smiled fondly, getting ready to tell him about your adventures.

***

Two Months Later

The elevator doors opened right into Billy’s apartment. You entered his place, greeted by the sleek, sparse aesthetic of the place. His design preferences clashed with yours and that hadn’t changed. The beast was next to you, tugging at his leash as he was eager to discover his new surroundings. You dropped your overnight bag on the ground before undoing his leash.

Sonia had given you the code to Billy’s apartment but had warned you that he wasn’t expected home for a few days. You weren’t supposed to be back in New York for at least a few more weeks, but you were feeling homesick and both you and the beast were exhausted so you decided to return early. Unfortunately your plan to surprise Billy didn’t work out as expected as he was off somewhere doing recon work for a lucrative client along with Frank and some other team members.

You had landed yesterday and gone straight to Davina’s, spending it resting and catching up with your best friend. Still, you were exhausted and the beast was acting up – maybe it was a good thing Billy wasn’t here. But that didn’t stop you from being utterly disappointed at missing him. Over the past few months you and he spoke practically every day despite the time differences, and the connection between you had grown stronger, more intense. The need to see him was overwhelming, the desire to touch him so desperate that you dreamt about him every day.

The beast ran around while you took a tour of the penthouse suite, familiarizing yourself with Billy’s new home. You rummaged through his closet, running your fingers through his clothes, admiring his wardrobe. You always loved how much pride he took in dressing well, and he was just as appreciative about your efforts.

Your attention was drawn to the watches laid out in a bougie cabinet that was new to you. The vintage Rolex you’d gifted him for your second anniversary was prominently displayed, a centerpiece amongst his collection. A part of you had worried that Billy had sold the piece after the divorce but that didn’t appear to be the case. You opened the bottom drawer and found a familiar velvet jewelry box in there.

“Next time I see you I’m putting this back on your finger whether you want it or not.”

Billy’s words echoed in your mind like it was yesterday. Your stomach fluttered when you opened the box to find your engagement ring and wedding band in there. Smiling, you slid them onto your finger. The fit was a little snug, you had gained a few pounds during the trip, but the rings still looked beautiful on your hand.

You noted the empty side of the walk-in closet, along with a large built-in cabinet designed specifically for shoes. This was meant for you, no doubt, and it made you feel soft and warm inside.

Home. That was what Billy was to you, and it felt right.

***

Billy dried himself with a towel before getting dressed in a t-shirt and sweats. All the while the mutt simply watched him, idly chewing on a recent pair of shoes Billy had bought. He took a deep breath, reminding himself he could get another pair. When he’d come home sooner than expected, the last thing he’d expected to find was you sleeping on the couch and a giant monster snoring on the floor beside you. The dog eventually woke up while he took a shower and now there they were, playing a game of who could stare at each other the longest.

Billy knelt down to meet the mutt at eye-level. “You know she’s mine, right? You can’t have her.”

The dumb dog stared back with its one eye, wearing an insolent expression, and then it yawned, completely unfazed by the warning. Billy pet the dog’s head before standing up and exiting the room, shutting the door behind him.

You were still sleeping soundly on the couch. Dressed in one of his t-shirts, the hem twisted around your hips, your gorgeous legs were naked and begging to be touched. And then there was the flash of your black lace panties. He poured himself a glass of whiskey and downed the whole thing before taking a seat next to you.

It was almost eight months since he saw you last, since he touched you. His fingers wrapped around your bare calf and squeezed lightly. You moaned a little, the sound turning him on even more. Billy told himself to be patient but all rational thoughts left his head when you shifted and the t-shirt rose even higher. Mesmerized, his hand travelled up your thigh, dancing along your soft, supple skin, sneaking higher and higher until his fingers hooked inside the waistband of your panties and he pulled the fabric down the length of your legs. Yeah he wanted to fuck you senseless, but more than that he just wanted to hold you and revere you.

And so he did, with his gaze, inhaling you in.

Your beautiful body, your pretty pussy, your glorious tits.

He committed every inch of your sweet cunt to his brain, inhaling you in. He didn’t even have to touch you for you to get wet, you were turned on already when he bent down to kiss your delicate skin. You trembled against him, your body quivered. You weren’t fully awake yet, your eyes still closed, but your breathed out a moan when he swiped his tongue along your folds.

God, he missed you. Your scent, your taste.

Pushing your t-shirt up above your chest, he sunk his face into the soft curves of your stomach, his tongue delving into your belly button. Your hip arched up, causing his face to smash against your skin. He chuckled, continuing to lick his way up your body until he came to your breasts.

Fuck.

The sheer hotness of your breasts stole his breath. They were bigger than he remembered, softer, as he cupped them together. Your puffy nipples stared back at him defiantly, daring him to fuck them, and he couldn’t stop himself anymore. His mouth dragged over the hardened nubs, going back and forth between, sucking on them like a man dying for water.

You were awake now, your moans growing louder, your body writhing under him while your legs tightened around his waist.

“Billy…”

Your voice. It was the only thing that could draw him back from the brink of madness he was in. Pulling his mouth away from your right nipple, he finally met your gaze. And the expression on your face melted his heart.

Overwhelmed with feelings that rushed through him, he stared at you blankly. He couldn’t think.

You were here. You came back to him.

You were his.

The emotions on your face, the way your eyes lit up so brightly - it made his insides ache.

For months he was a dead man walking, going through life without any hope or excitement. He’d always known losing you would ruin him but even he couldn’t have predicted how alone and hopeless it would feel without you. The ambitious drive in him dissipated, because what was the fucking point of money if he couldn’t spend it with you. The first month after you left all he did was get wasted. Alcohol was supposed to numb the pain but it didn’t. After weeks of fucking around Frank and Curtis had enough and ordered him back to work. Sick of the fights and waking up with hangovers, he decided work would be a better distraction. At least then he wouldn’t have to deal with Frank bitching at him.

Shortly after that you guys started talking, and the world came alive for him. Life was beautiful again, and he had a reason to wake up every morning. His drive to make Anvil an industry leader returned with a vengeance along with the desire to destroy anyone who stood in his way. All because of you.

Your index finger traced the scars on his face, your every touch a thorough reminder of how much you meant to him.

And then he saw the rings around your finger.

The engagement ring he’d scoured for months before he finally found the right one. The wedding bands you guys exchanged. His own was destroyed when his fucking world fell apart, but he’d held onto yours, resolute in his determination to put them on you again.

And now you were wearing them, on your own, without any kind of cajoling from him.

Because you were ready to be his finally.

Every night he pondered what he’d say when he saw you again. In his imagination he was a fucking poet, ready to impress with heartfelt declarations about how much you meant to him. Except now when you were actually in front of him, he was speechless. The only thing running through his head was fear. Fear that this was just a fucking dream. And instead of coming at you from a place of love, it was his fucking insecurity that drove his words.

“You’re never leaving me again.”

He expected you to be irritated or angry by his threat, instead you sent him an affectionate smile. Your hand brushed through his hair strands in a placating gesture. “Don’t be an asshole again.”

Heart full, he fisted the back of your head and pulled you close.

A heartbeat, that’s all it fucking took for the both of you to lose control. Your mouth closed over his, and he gave into the fucking whirlwind of craziness only you made him feel.

***

You felt Billy slide onto the couch behind you, scooting closer so he could resume touching you. As his hand trailed down your back, your body tingled again with excitement. He’d fucked you multiple times yet the two of you couldn’t get enough, your body wasn’t sated despite being utterly exhausted. Even now when you were in the brink of sleep, his close proximity was playing havoc with your thoughts, especially when you felt him caressing your ass. The weight you had gained during your vacation seemed to have gone to your butt, and apparently Billy loved it.

He dropped playful kisses on both cheeks, squeezing one and then the other with his palm.

“You were never an ass man before,” you remarked lazily, yawning.

“Yeah, but this ass is fucking piece of art.” The playful tap he gave your cheeks made you giggle. “And so is the rest of this gorgeous body.” His tongue trailed a path up. “Like the small of your back.” His beard scratched your skin as his mouth followed up the length of your spine. “And your spine.”

You chuckled. “Spine too?”

More kisses peppered the back of your neck before he turned you around. “And these shoulders… this neck…” His face sunk into your chest as he cupped your breasts together.

“Nothing to say about my boobs?” you teased.

“Hmm…”

Already mesmerized, his fingers danced across your nipples.

As he stared at your breasts, you stared at him, studying him. He was on his side, balanced on his elbow, and looked so deliriously happy that it made your heart explode. You hadn’t seen him like this in a long time, years actually. Before you left he was always agitated and in a constant state of turmoil, but now there was a look of contentment on his face, a calmness in him that was only present before the accident.

“Checking me out?” he teased, winking at you.

“Always.” You smiled, reaching up to palm his face. “You look happy.”

He placed a tender kiss on the flesh of your palm. “Cause you’re here.” He kissed your wedding band. “Back with me, where you belong.” Closing his eyes, he stilled for a few seconds. “I can breathe again.”

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, like it always did when he regarded you with so much love and tenderness. “I didn’t think we’d ever be like this again. I was ready to walk away forever.”

His gaze darkened, like the thought of you even verbalizing those words angered him. “You’re mine. And if you think I’m gonna let you--”

You placed your palm over his mouth to shut him up. “I’m here for good.”

Billy didn’t respond, his piercing eyes holding you hostage. Sensing his anxiety, you pulled him close to your chest so his head was pressed in the crook of your neck. With his body settled atop, the two of you clung to each other in a tight embrace for a long while. “I have a gift for you. It’s in the other room.”

“Yeah,” he replied in a wry tone. “I met the gift. It was eating my shoes.”

You chuckled. “He has good taste.”

“It can’t live with us, babe.”

“Bold of you to assume I’m moving in.”

“Bold of you to think you have a choice.”

You smiled, languidly playing with his hair. “I’m not moving in without the beast. He goes where I go.”

“Beast? That’s what you named him?”

“No, he has an actual name. He just won’t respond to it.”

“What is it?”

“Ludacris.”

“Like the rapper?”

“Yeah, I like his music.”

Billy snickered. “No wonder he likes beast better.” He pressed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “You’re not allowed to love that mutt more than me,” he drawled, his tone unconcerned and lazy.

“Even though he saved my life?” you teased.

“Even then.”

“Fine,” you sighed. “I need to go walk him.”

“No,” Billy groaned, burrowing his head into your chest so his facial hair tickled you.

“Stop!” you giggled.

“Can’t go,” he insisted, ticking you harder. “Not gonna let you.”

Your squealing must have woken up the beast because he came running into the room. Except instead of attacking Billy, he started licking him, especially when Billy started scratching his sweet spot. You watched the two of them bond, and your heart swelled with happiness. Dogs weren’t exactly Billy’s thing and you expected him to protest against keeping him, but there he was, playing with him.

“I need to get food for this one,” you said, sitting up.

Billy turned back to look at you. “I bought some a few weeks ago. Wasn’t sure what he’d like so I got a few different kinds.”

Your smile grew soft. Some of your conversations with Billy in the past month did involve the beast but you’d never mentioned you were planning to bring him home. Obviously he recognized you wouldn’t be leaving the dog behind.

You pushed yourself off the couch when he grabbed your hand.

“I’ll take Beast for a walk,” Billy offered. “You get some sleep.”

“I’m not tired.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Good. ‘cause I’m not done with that ass yet.”

You laughed, reaching down to give him a kiss.

***

A while after you took a shower and put a slip on, you sifted through your overnight bag to retrieve your gift for him. When you sauntered into the kitchen, you found Beast on the floor, wolfing down his food, while Billy made grilled cheese sandwiches on the stove. It smelled delicious and your stomach growled in hunger. Smiling, you crept up and hugged him from behind. “Have something for you.”

His free hand snaked around your waist to grab your ass. “Besides this?” He turned off the stove before turning around in your arms. “Why the fuck are you dressed?”

“Because I’m hungry.” Retreating until your back hit the cabinet, you jumped up to sit on the counter. You set his gift behind your back, smiling at him.

He plated the sandwich and handed it to you before making a quick stop at the fridge to grab himself and you a beer. Your cooking skills had somehow grown worse, but his seemed to have excelled, especially his version of a grilled-cheese sandwich. Pleased that he remembered this was one of your favourite late-night snacks, you happily bit into the sandwich while he drank his beer and watched you eat. There were many a nights like this during your marriage, where you’d be sharing a bottle of wine or drinks in the kitchen, Billy cooking, you perched up on the counter and keeping him company. It felt like home, being here, even though it was a new place, and everything was so different, and Beast was making a ruckus in one corner of the kitchen.

Billy’s eyes were fixated on you as he took a sip of the beer, his gaze trailing from your lips to your breasts, down the length of your body before drifting up to your face again. “You don’t need clothes to eat,” he finally responded, eyes darkening again.

“So you want me to sit here, naked, just ready to do your bidding?” you taunted. You straightened your leg to reach across and touch Billy’s groin, teasing your foot along the fabric of his jeans.

Molten eyes burned with intensity, his gaze bore into you.

He was hard, you felt it, could see it, wet heat pooling between your legs at the sexual magnetism vibrating off of him right now.

“Take off your goddamn clothes, sweetheart.”

You smirked, setting the empty plate aside. A few months ago, you would have hesitated to get naked in front of him. The deterioration of your relationship had left you emotionally scarred, broken, and too insecure to let yourself be vulnerable with him. But now, you felt strong and healthy. Like yourself, though even more powerful. And so, despite the additional pounds you gained that once would have made you shirk and cringe, you took off your top and threw it aside. No bra, no intentional maneuvering to highlight your assets and minimize your flaws. None of that. You were simply naked and exposed in front of the only man who could break you. Except he was admiring you in all your glory, sheer desire on his face, his eyes glazing over at your full breasts.

“Come here, Billy.”

That seemed to snap him out of his daze. He closed the distance instantly, pulling your legs forward to wrap them around his thighs. All thoughts of provoking him left your brain as his mouth closed over yours, ravaging you, while you pulled at his clothes to undress him.

And soon he was thrusting inside of you, pounding you on the counter as your moans filled the room.

You forgot how utterly emotional and transfixing it was to have Billy inside of you. Your walls clenched around his cock while he thrust hard, every part of your body inhabited by him so that there was no you or him, just one body linked together while the two of you fucked each other into oblivion.

Your nails clawed his back, his teeth sunk into your shoulder, wounds marking each other’s bodies with reminders of what the two of you meant to each other. Pain and pleasure, forever entwined.

The harder he fucked you, the more vocal you became. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew Beast was barking loudly but you were too entrenched in Billy to pay any attention to reality. It was only after you reached your frenzied climax that Beast’s howls finally registered.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed at Beast, breathless and panting, still perched on the counter, your body limber and fluid in Billy’s grip.

“No, absolutely fucking not,” Billy muttered, his head buried in your neck. “You only call me baby. No one else.”

“You can’t be jealous over a dog.”

“Can’t I?”

You chuckled, amused, and then murmured sweet terms of affections to cajole him.

It took a while for your hearts to return to normal pace, both of you spent, his body weight pressed onto you while you clung to him. Still a bit dazed, you dropped a kiss on his temple. “We can’t fuck in front of Beast.”

Billy shifted slightly to look at the dog, who was staring back with a hungry expression even though he just ate. “He needs to get used to this.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” you mused. “Having sex in front of a dog?”

“We fucked at a sex club in front of an audience. This is fine.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was different.”

“Yeah, the dog can’t talk.”

Smiling, you pulled on his earlobe. “Jerk.”

“Still waiting for my gift, babe.”

You twisted around to see where it had shifted to. Snuggled behind the bottle of olive oil, you retrieved the sachet.

“What is it?” Billy asked, eyeing the small bag.

You loosened the opening and dropped the ring on your palm.

Billy’s wedding band, a brilliant silver band that matched your own, had to be cut from his fingers before the life-saving operation he received. Since the two of you reconnected over the phone he’d mentioned how much the loss of it troubled him. While the two of you were certainly not ready for marriage, you still wanted to give him something that showed how far you’d come. It took you a while to find the perfect ring, in the end it was a two-toned black titanium ring in a jewelry shop in Turkey that captured your attention. The design was a black ring, contrasted with a silver bevelled edge, representing the history you shared and the future that was to come. Although it certainly wasn’t as expensive as the original, you liked its sleek, sexy design and you hoped Billy would too.

“You like it?” you asked hesitantly, feeling suddenly nervous. You reminded yourself the ring didn’t have to symbolize anything. It could just be a gift, if that’s what Billy wanted, and not mean anything. “If you don’t, it’s okay.”

He picked it up, his face devoid of emotion. “You proposing?”

“No, it’s just a gift.”

His gaze shifted to focus on you. “I want a fucking proposal, sugar.”

You rolled your eyes in exasperation. “It’s too soon. We’re not even fully back together.”

Eyebrow quirked up, he leveled you with a heated stare. “You’re not getting out of this.” He removed your wedding band and handed back the ring you gifted him. “We’re gonna put these on each other.” And he did just that, sliding the wedding band back onto your finger. “Your turn.” He splayed his hand in front of you.

Smiling, you took his hand and caressed his palm. His fingers trembled, surprising you, and you looked up to meet his eyes. The gravity of emotions in them made your heart flutter. Swallowing the unexpected lump in your throat, you slid the band onto his left ring finger.

Interlacing his fingers through yours, he pressed his forehead to yours. “You’re mine. I’m yours. Nothing ever comes between us.”

Just then Beast barked, as if offended by the words, and you burst into laughter. “Think he feels left out?”

“That’s his problem.”

You chuckled, turning your attention back to Billy. “You love him already. Admit it.”

He shook his head ‘no’. “I’ll tolerate him for you.” His lips grazed your forehead. “Because I love you.”

For the first time since the accident, those words didn’t incite anger or disbelief or any insecurity in you. Instead, you believed him wholeheartedly and felt it with every fiber in your being. “I love you too, Billy.”

“You haven’t said that in a long time.”

“I couldn’t. Not until now.”

His eyes glimmered with hope, with love, with all kinds of emotions that made your heart want to explode. “I’m never letting you go, babe.”

Overwhelmed with feelings, your eyes watered. This was the man you loved - insanely jealous and madly possessive, invading your entire life and crushing through every walls you’d built around your heart. The same man who bought groceries because you hated doing it, took space out of his beloved closet so it could hold your precious shoes, and was now even willing to take care of your dog even though he didn’t like animals.

Billy loved you, protected you. Killed for you. And you did the same for him.

What the two of you shared wasn’t normal or healthy. Loving each other didn’t make you better people, but it gave you both purpose, a reason to fight for something more substantial than simply survival. You filled each other’s lives with hope and happiness, a rarity for the both of you.

Cradling his face, you kissed him gently. Even after everything, you found your way back to each other.

That was never going to change, and you had no regrets.

He was yours. You were his.

Forever.

The End.

A/N - Thank you to all those who stuck around and to those who recently discovered the fic. I can’t believe I finished them both - lol - but I was so genuinely attached to Billy/Reader that I couldn’t let them go. But it’s time now, I think.

Billy and Reader will always have a complicated relationship, but they have each other’s back and will never feel as strongly about anyone else as they do each other. I sincerely believe that and I hope the writing showed that as well.

There are some scenes deliberately vague or I’ve glossed over, mostly because it allows me to delve into them in the future if I choose :)

Anyway, thank you again. I really appreciate and am grateful to every one of you.

If you’d be so inclined, I’d love to read any comments you want to share :)

#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #a woman reborn #a woman scorned universe #my fics

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spoilmesweetieforficssake · 1 year

Text

This Is Kinda Nice Too (2)

So I know I have requests to be working on - and I am - every request I currently have has a plan sketched out for it, I just need time to get them all written up.

In the meantime, however, I couldn't get this little idea to continue a previous request out of my head, so here it is. Part three may or may not make its way into being.

Can be read alone, but best read as as the follow up to the below (also if these inserted links look odd I'm sorry but it's the only way I know how atm)

You’re not a morning person at the best of times, and a night on a lumpy, creaky camp bed certainly hasn’t changed that. You studiously ignore Janine’s chirpy ‘good morning’, making a mental note to apologise later once you’ve been properly caffeinated.

Speaking of which, there seems to be a distinct lack of a fire going and so currently no boiling water to make the dream of a cup of tea into reality. Not bothering to ask for help or wait for anyone else, you move as quickly as you ever do in the morning to set a new fire going.

You’re making decent progress when a gentle hand lands on your shoulder and a steaming cup of tea is brought into your line of vision. The rumours really were true when they said Barb was a Saint.

“How?”

“There’s an electrical outlet in the little cabin I’m in,” she smiled, settling herself on one of the camp chairs closest to the fire, hands cradled round her own cup of coffee. “I called ahead to check and packed a little travel kettle.”

“If you weren’t already married I’d be proposing right now,” you tell her as you take your first sip of tea. It’s perfect. It’s too perfect. It’s your exact morning tea precisely how you take it. Barbara Howard has never made you a cup of tea in your life. You frown as you lower your cup, meeting Barb’s knowing smile.

“Melissa made it,” she offers by way of an explanation.

You’re not quite sure what to think about that, but it makes you smile. A few moments later the mysterious red head herself appears out of Barb’s tiny cabin, her own mug of coffee in hand. The Kindergarten teacher had the only ‘cabin’, after trying to get out of the trip saying she was too old for camping. Cabin was perhaps a strong word for the small wooden hut, but it did at least boast running water and electricity. The smaller wooden camping pods laid out around it weren’t quite so luxurious, but they were at least wind and watertight.

“I hate to say it, but I think I might be too old to sleep on a camp bed,” groans Melissa as she stretches.

You chuckle. “I don’t think anyone is young enough to get a decent night’s sleep on those beds if yours is anything like mine.”

“Ava, this is not breakfast,” Melissa says flatly as she looks dubiously at the small packet she has been handed by the Principal.

“Of course it is,” the younger woman snaps back. “It says ‘breakfast bar’ right there on the front. Besides, gotta have portable snacks so we can get our scavenger hunt on!”

This gets a collective groan from the group. Ava ignores this and proceeds to fetch a folder.

“Okay, now everyone come get a sheet and take a pencil. The pencils have numbers on them that’ll tell y’all who you’re paired up with. Now remember, it’s not just about collecting all the items on the list, it’s about getting to the end point in the quickest time.”

You end up with Barb and Jacob. Could be better, could be worse, you figure. You look over to see Janine with a look of genuine worry on her features as she looks from her numbered pencil to Melissa, who’s eyebrows are hiked impressively high on her forehead. There might be one less member of your little Abbott family around the campfire tonight if her murderous expression is anything to go by.

Barb, ever the peacekeeper moves forward. You expect her to offer to swap with Janine, so what she says next comes as a surprise.

“Oh Janine, I was hoping you’d end up in my little group. I thought it would give us time to talk. We haven’t had a chance of late with school being so busy,” says Barb. She moves to take your pencil from your hand. “You wouldn’t mind swapping, would you?”

“Course not,” you say, because really, what else are you meant to say? You move to stand next to Melissa, who is now shooting an odd look on Barb’s direction. “I can swap with Barb if you want?”

“What? No!” she quickly reassures you. “I was just wondering if she’d actually lost her mind volunteering to take those two.”

“Oh come on, they’re not that bad,” you reply, admittedly rather half-heartedly.

“You really wanna swap with Barb?” she asks, eyebrow raised.

“Hell no!” comes your immediately reply. “I definitely got the better deal one this one.”

“There’s a shortcut coming up.”

Melissa frowns, looking at the map Ava had provided. She turned it to and fro, not sure where you were seeing any shortcut.

“It’s not on Ava’s map,” you add, coming to stand next to her. You point to where the marked path takes a long, meandering loop. “It’s just here. It leaves the path and cuts out that big loop. It’s a bit steeper, but-“

“You saying I’m too old to take the short cut?”

Your eyes go wide at her words and you immediately start to back track. “That’s not what I said! I said it was a little steeper, that was all!”

She chuckles. “I was just messin’ with ya, kid. So, this shortcut takes some time off, huh?”

“Should do,” you nod. “I only know it’s there because when I first came here it was after seeing pictures on Instagram of the view from the top. There were hints about making the hike quicker in the comments.”

“You think it gives us a shot at beating Ava?” Melissa smirks. The Principal had practically dragged Gregory off at a run at the start of the scavenger hunt.

“It just might,” you grin right back.

“Then I say lets go.”

“Shit!”

“What? What happened, are you okay?” you ask, quickly turning around to inspect the red head.

She waves off your concern with a hand. “I forgot about the list of crap we’re meant to find.”

“Oh that? Don’t worry about that. I found half the things we needed before we even left camp this morning.” You take the list out of your pocket. “We just need a feather, a Y shaped twig and a heart shaped rock.”

Melissa shakes her head, looking at you with a fond smile. “You got this all under control, huh?”

You hope the blush that creeps up your cheeks can be passed off as the exertion of your hike. You’re helpless under her soft gaze. “Didn’t think you’d let me live it down if we came last.”

Her smile turns positively wicked. “You know me well,” she says as she starts the uphill climb once more, treating you to a rather glorious view of her rear. You’re quick to chastise yourself for your blatant staring and fall into step behind her.

“Oh, wow.”

You look up at the softly uttered words to see that Melissa has reached the viewpoint ahead of you. She has a soft smile tugging at the edges of her lips as she takes in the view. You remember feeling the same sense of wonder the first time you saw the landscape falling away before you. Like you were on top of the world.

Abandoning your search for a heart shape stone, you force your legs to take the final few steps to bring you level with the red head. You take a moment to breathe, looking over the expanse of green below you before turning to look at the other woman. Her cheeks are flushed from the effort of the hike, her hair in windswept waves around her face. She looks beautiful. She always does, to you.

She turns to look at you and you immediately duck your head, aware you’ve been blatantly caught staring. That’s when you see it, right in front of your boot. A heart shaped stone. Bending to pick it up, you hold it out to her. “Looks like we ticked off our list.”

“And made it to the top first,” she grins smugly. She proceeds to open the small rucksack she had been toting, shaking out a picnic blanket before producing a bottle of wine. “A little drink to celebrate?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so relaxed.”

You open your eyes, turning your head to look up to where she sits next to you on the blanket. “I tend to be more relaxed when I’m away from things…people,” you finally reply.

“I’m not people?” she asks, her tone more curious than accusatory.

You pull yourself up until you’re sitting next to her, your knees drawn up to your chest as you look out over the view. It’s easier to talk when you’re not looking at her. “You’re different.” You get nervous around Melissa, yes, but it’s not the same anxiety you feel around others. “You don’t make me feel self-conscious about being me.”

“You know something, kid?” she breathes. “I think that’s one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me.”

You feel an arm slip around your shoulders, pulling you into her side. This is why you fell in love with her, you realise. This acceptance of your quirks, your anxieties and your oddities without question. You’ve never even had to explain them to her. She just gets you.

You’re not quite sure you can recall when it started, her understanding, you falling for her, but there is one night that stands out in your mind. Ava had organised staff drinks. It was a bar you’d never been too and it was busy and loud. It had taken having a quiet word with yourself to even make it in the door. Standing barely two steps inside, you had scanned the room, looking for a friendly face, your anxiety rising when you couldn’t find one. It was stupid, you knew, to think that anyone thought you looked out of place for simply taking a moment to stand and search for your friends, but you couldn’t shake the feeling.

It was then that you heard a familiar voice and saw Melissa cutting through the crowd towards you. Her hand found your own, and she offered you a smile before leading you through the busy room to where your Abbott family were gathered. It had been a good night, but as usual, you had struggled to find a way to leave. You knew you were an adult who could leave whenever they wanted, but somehow, you always seem to end up the last to leave out of some misplaced notion of it being more polite than leaving before the night was over.

Melissa had given you an out, seeing you were flagging and offering you a lift with her and Barb. She was forever giving you an out, it felt like. And yet she never made it feel like a burden. You shift until you can lean your head on her shoulder, in almost a reverse of the night before.

“How the hell you beat us?”

You both jump at the sound of Ava’s voice behind you, turning to face her.

“We practically speed walked!” she shouts, dumping a bag beside you clearly containing the contents of the scavenger hunt list. “Ya’ll must have cheated!”

“How?” Melisa questions. “We all left at the same time. You saw us. If I remember rightly, you practically took off like a sprinter out the blocks!”

Gregory appears behind Ava, looking slightly winded. He looks just as surprised to see you as she had. “How the?”

“Skills,” smirks Melissa. “Some of us just have them.”

You jerk awake at the creek of the door of your little hut, squinting in the dark.

“It’s just me,” comes the hiss of a whisper.

Melissa.

“Scooch over.”

“To where?” you grumble, acquiescing all the same, and moving as far to the edge of the small camp bed as you can without falling off. The frame squeaks in protest as the red head joins you on the too small bed. You huff as she manhandles you into a comfortable position, her arm around your waist and her head on your shoulder.

“First you call me old, now you call me fat!” she chuckles as she shimmies in an attempt to get more comfortable.

“Did not!” is all you can manage. “You know I wouldn’t.” You feel her smile against your neck. Yes, the line has definitely been crossed. By both of you. Baby steps to many, it may seem, but giant leaps for awkward lesbian-kind.

“I know I’m just teasing,” she says quietly.

You hum in reply. “One of your many skills.”

“You like it.”

“I like you,” you say quietly, too sleepy to worry too much about your words.

As your eyes drift closed, you feel her lips smile against your skin. “I like you too. This is kinda nice, too.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

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nihilnothings · 9 months

Text

The Contradictions of Denji Hayakawa and why it’s humanly real

Introduction

“Why does Denji not learn his lesson, is he stupid?”

You’re not entirely wrong but you’re not entirely right.

One of the common gripes of some fans is that Denji appears to not have changed because he keeps falling for women with red flags in exchange for sexual favours, but honestly if anyone paid attention and not get let their emotions do the thinking, he actually has changed for the better in one aspect but he’s struggling for another:

Denji has succeeded in familial love but it doesn’t necessarily mean that it translates to his romantic life.

You can be a decent/good friend or good brother but that doesn’t mean you’ll not fumble with women or romance

What Denji Has Succeeded and How He Did It

One good thing that Makima (unintentionally) did was putting him with Power and Aki. They had a rough start but eventually as all people know he eventually saw them as surrogate family members and Power became one of if not the first close female character he viewed in a platonic sense than in a romantic/sexual sense as at least from his end.

Though they were gone from his life, the lessons he learned never left. Old Denji would only think about his own survival and the carnal pleasures of sex as well as basic necessities, New Denji however stepped up and took on the big gamble of raising the ticking time bomb that is the Control Devil, Nayuta. It can be implied that due to him being shown good examples, Denji was able to succeed in raising Nayuta.

This can strongly conclude that Denji learns by being shown and eventually doing it himself.

For all his setbacks he was a good brother because he had one himself

Interlude: A Common Trope Being Slightly Subverted

We and most of their mothers here know how Part 1 ended, Denji’s broken spirit is mended, he learns more about love and relationships, defeated Makima, and now focuses on living another day as CSM raising her so hooray no more issues right?

It even ended in a seemingly victorious note

I feel like when a long-running series has a continuation and replaces them with a new protagonist, people expect the old protagonist to act as some sort of “mentor” who has everything figured out and helps out the new protagonist in the ropes.

The thing is just because you have one thing figured out doesn’t necessarily mean it translates to everything, real life isn’t like that.

For all of its fantastic elements, Fujimoto characters tend to be praised for being “human” or “real”, it doesn’t exactly mean that it 100% translates to our reality but the way they behave at least resembles somewhat to us humans in real life. Like humans we are, we don’t move linearly forwards or backwards, we move in a haphazard direction that eventually, hopefully, takes us forward, only to repeat that cycle again for a different experience until we reach our inevitable death.

This is what’s currently happening to Denji, he hasn’t had all the things figured out (considering his background, pretty impressive tbh) and he hasn’t reached his goals of finding a good romantic partner. If he had succeeded, then we would be shown a “perfect” Denji that’ll eventually woo Asa without having his own issues or a character who acts as Denji’s girlfriend as a sign that he as a character is fully actualized.

Which is why we see him relapsing against his better judgement.

What Denji is Struggling Right Now and Why Old Habits Die Hard

One of the other things that Makima taught him right is that the activity of sex will be good when it’s done with someone significant and this usually means a romantic partner.

Therefore, when Denji wants sex he also wants a romantic partner along with it.

Now the problem lies in the fact that most of Denji’s romantic experiences weren’t really good at all, most of the women in his life tried to kill and use him, even Asa did once, but thankfully he was shown that she might not be all that bad after all and might lead onto something good for once even if the paths have now caused them to diverge putting that development to a halt. As it is strongly suggested that Denji learns by example, the fact that terrible examples were mostly shown is what’s probably causing him to blunder his romantic life which inadvertently blocks him from having good sex.Not only that but he was essentially mind-broken by Makima to the point of him losing any desire at all, considering how IRL abuse leaves scars, it cannot be denied that toxic patterns still exist within Denji in relation to romance and sex.

He used Chainsaw Man, an important part of him and the part that many people love (especially the ladies), as a means to hook women into a romantic relationship with him, though with Yoshida’s attempts and no sign of a girlfriend, it seems that tactic might not be as effective after all (ironically it did lead him to score Asa unknowingly).

Then, for the sake of Nayuta, he gave away that identity, and thus no longer had a tool to woo women because with all the things that happened in Part 1 and in Part 2, no women seemed to be interested in Denji Hayakawa, thus leaving him listless and desperate. With that he removed the intimate part of sex and hyper-focused on the carnal part out of boredom and desperation with Sus Girl.

However, him struggling doesn’t necessarily mean zero progress, Old Denji wouldn’t have thought of anything and just went with the flow but the fact that he did thought of it shows that he shouldn’t be doing it (he even has a look of shame of doing making the scene of 137 both hilarious and depressing, in the words of abridged Popo, deprerious).

Relapse is a bitch

If Fujimoto didn’t show the hypothetical scenario then we would’ve thought that it was just a cheap gag but the fact that he showed it means that Denji and he knows that this is what the character should be doing but instead he did the opposite making the scene both a gag and a message that change isn’t easy.

Relapsing is a real thing, ask any druggie, addict, junkie, smoker, etc. they all know that it’s wrong but they do it anyway because it’s been their “normal” for so damn long. Heck, let’s not even get to addiction, how many times do you know that procrastination is bad yet still keep doing it anyways? Some might already succeed but a large part of people still keep doing it because it’s been their “normal” even if being productive is better than doing useless shit like making an analysis of Denji’s contradictory behaviours instead of revising your thesis.

Conclusion

Denji’s constant back and forth on the surface looks inconsistent on the outside, but considering all that happened is it a surprise that he’s failing at romance and attempts despite his best in dealing with it? What he needs is someone to show him the right way of handling it, that person doesn’t have to be perfect, but at least teach him that relationships should not be completely transactory and is the work of two people, only then can he probably reduce his mistakes and develop healthier approaches.

Relapsing is a human experience and considering that CSM characters are said to be close to real life, maybe we should view his experience as someone who is struggling to be better but has no capable person to show him.

#csm manga #denji hayakawa #chainsaw man #aki hayakawa #power #nayuta

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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thoughts about the prince gojo au I've had... The first time knight reader has to kill. The first life they take for him.... That surely must change a person for its weight and traumatic experience. Prince Gojo getting to know this, getting to see knight reader's blood stained hands. Feelings,,,,,

OHHHHHHH ANON YOUR BRAIN YOUR BRAIN…… this is such a tasty scenario and i HAVE thought abt it in bits and pieces (this answer will probably get long so im putting it under the cut im sorry anon but these two legitimately make me insane </3)

OK SO FIRST OFF i see ur vision so clearly……. one trope that will ALWAYS fucking gut me is the image of clean hands reaching out for bloodied ones and that is literally my prince!gojo & knight!reader in a nutshell i think. the devoted bloodied knight x the prince who dirties his own hands to clean them up.. yeah. u Get it.

and and and!! this is so important to me actually bc im genuinely sick in the head when it comes to knights. i love knights so much. and i think the most interesting thing abt them is the fact that being a perfect knight is impossible FOR MANY REASONS but among others its just the idea that a knight should be kind and good and humane juxtaposed with the reality that a knight has to kill whatever — or whoever — they’re told to kill. and for that reason all knights are a little (a Lot) unhinged to me and very much traumatized.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO KNIGHT!READER……. i think they get desensitized to it pretty quickly. their main focus is helping the prince / easing his burden / etc etc, so i think theyre willing to place their duty above their own morals, at least to a certain extent. (they still very much have a hero complex LOL) but but but… it still obviously affects them. and you’re absolutely right — the very first person that they kill will obviously have a huge impact on them.

because knight!reader had such an awful upbringing (before meeting satoru!!) i see them being very empathetic!! w a general desire to do Good. so the idea of them having to kill someone, maybe even someone who’s pleading for their life…. yeah. ough. but i do think theyd try to convince themselves that theyre fine, that satoru comes first, etc etc….. that they’re doing it for Him. so its fine. (but its not.)

and as for satoru’s reaction ohhhh anon u little genius…. i hadnt thought abt it before but!! i do think he’d be worried. my prince!gojo is a bit twisted in certain ways and i doubt he’d care that reader killed someone, or about their victim, but he would care abt the possibility of it affecting them. i think he’s mildly opposed to reader being a knight because of this!! because he knows that knighthood in itself is a daydream that’ll only cause them harm. but he respects their wishes and stays out of it… mostly….. definitely gets upset at whoever ordered them to kill for the first time, but after its happened again and again there isnt much he can do.

he’s very attentive, though!! keeps an eye out. or asks suguru to keep an eye out. just in case. i also firmly believe that he’d insist on cleaning knight!reader up himself <33 i think he enjoys gently wiping the blood off your skin. it’s domestic to him. (he is Not normal)

can u tell im normal abt them TYSM FOR INDULGING ME ANON….. ohh this was so fun to think abt. if u ever have any other prince!gojo/knight!reader thoughts then i’d love to hear them <333

#MICKEY R U SEEING THIS…….#ur influence is spreading #ohhhh theyre just so…..#i think knight!reader has nightmares every once in a while also (bc how could they not)#and i think prince!gojo notices and forces them to have a whole sleepover w him 😭😭#sneaking them into his chamber n everything so that they can make a pillow fort <333 yeah. he just wants to see u smile!!#they live in my heart in my brain in my soul #mickey has basically ruined any chances of me becoming a normal well behaved individual bc they will never not make me go rabid #one day ill make a pt2 from gojos pov… one day…….#ask tag ✩

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arrow-guy · 1 year

Text

Within the Ashes (2/??)

Summary: You’ve spent your life working for someone else. You watch their back, you protect them, but you’re left feeling empty and unfulfilled at the end of the day. What happens when a freak accident transports you to a different dimension, very nearly identical to your own?

A/N: Hi guys! Chapter two is here and it’s time to learn more about the reader and what’s happened to them. If you’re squeamish about burns/injury, please please please read the warnings. I didn’t hold back with the Ick with the reader’s burns and I don’t want you to either read something that’ll make you feel sick or uncomfortable. That said, please enjoy!

Page dividers by @carryonmyswansong

Pairing(s): StevexReader, background Spideytorch

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Graphic descriptions of burns (fresh and healing), disorientation, interrogation (not intense), different realities

Part 1

“Are they actually alive?” Tony asks.

Steve inches closer and faintly hears the body whimper.

“For now.”

“Christ, that’s gotta be painful.”

“We need to get them to medical.”

“They could be trying to kill us.”

“They can’t do much of anything right now, Tony.”

Tony rolls his eyes and gestures to a set of drawers. “Third down, there’s fresh sheets. Grab one.”

“You keep sheets in the lab?”

“Sheets, drop cloths, same thing at the end of the day. Doesn’t matter, just grab one.”

Steve does as he’s told and they work together to bundle the body up in the soft fabric. The pink-ish ooze of freshly healing burns immediately soaks into the sheet anywhere it touches the wounds. Steve only notices when he scoops them up in his arms. He frowns and turns to Tony.

“Does it look like they’re healing?”

“What?”

“It looks like they’re healing, Tony.” Steve pulls back a corner of the sheet to reveal their shoulder. “That’s not what fresh burns look like. Especially ones this bad.”

Tony’s expression is a mix of disgust and fascination as his eyes flit over the body. The burns on their shoulder slowly, very slowly, skin over with a milky white ooze that could easily be mistaken for infection. It’s not yellow enough, though. Whoever this person is, they heal inhumanly fast.

All Tony says is, “They’re probably in a lot of pain.”

Steve nods and hurries out into the hall, unmoving body clutched to his chest. Tony follows close behind, issuing commands for F.R.I.D.A.Y. to pass along to their medical team.

Steve barely has one foot in the door before someone whisks the body away and someone else places their hand squarely on his chest to stop his momentum. He tries to protest, but his arms are already empty.

“We’ll take it from here, Captain,” they say. “If they heal as fast as Mr. Stark says, we have to move quickly to ensure they’re not permanently stuck in the fetal position.”

Steve nods numbly. “Alright.”

“Any updates we have, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Ah-thank you.”

They nod and quickly move to the bed where the body was placed moments ago. The medical team begins moving their limbs and Steve can’t hear his eyes away out of morbid fascination with the sight. Only when they whimper again does he remember what he’s watching. He averts his eyes and turns back out into the hallway. Tony’s leaning against the wall to Steve’s right, tapping away on his phone.

“They’re in good hands, Steve,” he says. “They’ll heal before you know it and we’ll get our answers.”

“I’d hate to be them right now.”

“Any sane person would be.” Tony pushes off the wall and walks off down the hall. “Lemme know if there are any changes.”

Steve scrubs his hands over his face and slowly walks back to his office.

(Y/N) doesn’t know where she is. Can’t really move her limbs or open her eyes. She’s tired enough that she doesn’t really want to try. She does know she’s in a hospital of some kind. There’s the distant, pulsing beep of a heart monitor and she can occasionally hear the sounds of pen scratching on paper.

The bed she’s lying on is anything but soft and the sheets make her itch all over. She’s cold, initially, but she’s not awake enough at any given time to complain anyway.

Eventually, when she finally feels herself coming back to her body, she’s moved to a different bed. A smooth garment is slipped onto her body and she’s placed on top of sheets significantly softer than before. She’s still sore and pain occasionally flares up around particularly tender areas, especially where her skin is thinnest, but she finds that she’s more comfortable. It’s easier to let herself rest.

When she can finally open her eyes, it’s not for very long. Staying awake takes too much energy. She rolls over, ignores the way her left arm won’t move and the pressure around that wrist, and goes back to sleep. She can worry about it when she’s more lucid and the steadily growing pressure behind her eyes dissipates.

Unfortunately, she wakes up with a pounding headache and something about the bright, buzzing fluorescent lights only serves to make it worse. So, she attempts to cover her eyes with her left arm, only to be stopped short. (Y/N) frowns and tugs against the resistance on her arm. Same distance, but it's followed by a feeble, metallic rattle. Her frown deepens and she cracks one eye to investigate while rubbing the other with her free hand.

She finds her left hand bound at the wrist to the hospital bed railing with a length of gray fabric. The material has very little give and the knots at either end are tied well. Even knowing this she tries to pull at the loop around her wrist. She puts a little extra strength behind it. Even so, unsurprisingly, it does nothing.

"Huh."

She's looking a little too closely at the knot at her wrist and thinking about using her teeth on it when a man appears at the foot of the bed. Startled, she jumps and accidentally smacks herself in the face with her left hand. She makes a small noise of disappointment and rubs at the point of impact.

“Sorry,” the man says. “Did I startle you?”

“A little,” she mumbles.

“I need to ask you a few questions.”

(Y/N) watches him fold his arms across his chest and wishes she could poke his biceps. She might have super strength, but she’s never had the resting muscle definition to prove it. Johnny always teases her for staring at Jen Walters for a little too long. She sighs and briefly wonders if he knows where she is.

“Miss?”

“What? Sorry. I’m a little spacy.” She moves to run her hand over her hair, but only finds the stubbly peach fuzz of regrowth. “Weird.”

“With the state you were in when you showed up, I’d say you’re lucky to even have hair.”

“Was it really that bad?”

“It was pretty grotesque.”

“Oh. Sorry.” (Y/N) clears her throat and sits herself up. “You have questions?”

“Right.” He squares his shoulders. (Y/N) thinks it’s to make him more intimidating. It doesn’t work. “Who sent you?”

“Sorry?”

“You appeared out of thin air in our lab. It’s hard to believe that would just randomly happen. So, who sent you?”

(Y/N) shakes her head. “No one.”

“I don’t believe you. So I’ll ask again; why are you here?”

“Okay, well I don’t know where here is, so you have me at a distinct disadvantage.”

“You don’t know where you are?”

“No.”

“Where did you plan to be?”

“At home, in my bed, reading a book.” She looks around the room. “Where am I?”

“Avengers tower.”

“Tower?” Confused, she frowns. “I thought the Avengers operated out of a mansion somewhere in the city.”

“What mansion?”

“Y’know, that posh mansion with a bunch of floors below the ground that too many people know how to get to.” The man doesn’t give any indication that he does, in fact, know. “Tony Stark funds everything? Captain America is the figurehead?”

“Sounds right, but the location is wrong.”

“How would you know?”

“Because I’m Captain America.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “No you’re not.” The man raises one eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I am.”

“But you’re so…” Handsome, soft, almost approachable, her brain supplies. “And he’s so righteous, buzzcut, quarterback.” Her eyes go wide with realization and her hand flies to her mouth. “Oh God, Reed. What’d you do?”

Had Reed’s transport actually worked? Even with chunks flying off, even after exploding, had it sent her to a different dimension? It seems like that’s what happened. This man claims to be Steve Rogers, but he doesn’t look like the Captain she knows. Well, that’s not entirely true. He does look like her Steve Rogers, but not enough for her to think they’re the same person. But who’s to say anyone’s equivalent in a different reality would match them perfectly?

“Who’s Reed?”

“My boss. Reed Richards.”

“Am I supposed to know who that is?”

“You don’t know him?”

“Can’t say that I do.”

“He’s lauded as one of the smartest humans on the planet. Right up there with Stark and Banner.” The Captain just shakes his head. “What about the Fantastic Four? Mr. Fantastic, the Invisible Woman, Human Torch, the Thing?”

“They don’t sound familiar, no.”

She presses the heels of her hands to her eyes. “I must sound like a lunatic.”

“Yes, you do.” A man with dark hair and perfectly groomed facial hair strides into the room. “But I have heard of Richards, and I’m particularly offended that you’d compare the two of us.”

(Y/N) would know that goatee anywhere, but the face is wrong. “You’re-”

“Tony Stark.”

She nods. “Right.”

“Why don’t you explain what’s going on here.”

(Y/N) presses her fingers to her temple. “I’m Reed’s lab assistant. He’s been working on interdimensional transportation for months now and finally settled on something he was sure would work a few days ago, but when we went to tests, the entire thing malfunctioned. Thing literally blew up. From what I can remember, I was caught in the blast. Now I’m here.”

“Hilarious. Tell the truth.”

“I am.”

“That technology doesn’t exist yet. Not to mention the fact that your entire body was one massive third degree burn. Yet you’ve miraculously healed. Explain.”

“I have a healing factor that’s just a smidge weaker than Wolverine’s. I wouldn’t survive a nuclear blast, but full body third degree burns are manageable, I guess.”

“Wolverine?”

“Nigh unto immortal Mutant? Legendary X-Man?” Both Rogers and Stark shake their heads. “Seriously? He’s been alive since before the civil war.”

“Doesn’t ring any bells.”

“Great, you don’t have the X-Men.” She drags her hand over what little hair has grown back. “The only explanation I can come up with, and I apologize for my limited knowledge, I’m just the muscle, is that I was transported to a universe or reality adjacent to mine. Which… would only serve to prove Reed’s theory about a multiverse.”

“Seriously? A multiverse?”

“I don’t know, ask Doctor Strange. I’m not an expert by any means, but I know that this is one of the many intersections of science and magic.” She pauses. “Stephen Strange is the Sorcerer Supreme here, right?”

“He might be.”

“Okay.” She nods, mostly to herself. “Okay.”

“What’s your name?” Rogers asks.

“(Y/N).”

“Last name?”

“(Y/L/N),” she answers. “There might be another me in this reality, but I don’t know how closely realities mimic each other, so… who knows.”

Rogers hums and turns to look at Stark, who just shrugs and says he’ll look into it. He then leaves with the promise of contacting Strange and (Y/N) is suddenly alone with Rogers.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this is a lot for all of you to deal with.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay.” She bites her lip. “How long was I out for?”

“About four days.”

“Oh shit. That’s way longer than I’ve been down in the past.”

“You were barely recognizable as a human being when you appeared. I think that gives you a pass on healing a little slower than usual.”

“Mm, you’re probably right.” Rogers nods absentmindedly. “Wild question; could you untie me?”

“Hm?”

“Could you untie me?” she repeats. “I know it’s for everyone’s safety, but I'm not going anywhere, and I’m pretty sure I’ll accidentally break the railing if I fall asleep like this again.”

"It's pretty sturdy."

"Could you break this pretty sturdy railing?"

"We'll, yeah-"

"Then I'd be able to break it." He raises his eyebrows and she gestures to herself. "Pretty-sturdy-railing will meet pretty-strong-burn-victim, and the burn victim will win."

“So you heal quickly and you’re super strong?”

"Yes, exactly."

"How?"

(Y/N) shrugs. "Luck of the draw, I guess. I mean, how does anyone get their powers, if not by chance?"

"In my experience, through a lot of scientific experimentation."

“Mm, I guess so. You said you don’t know about the X-Men, right?”

“Right.”

“Hm, then I guess you don’t really have anyone who’s genetically predisposed to having powers, then.”

"Maybe we do and we just haven't met them yet."

"Maybe." She stifles a yawn. "The government likes to beat back anyone they see as a threat with a stick, so I wouldn't blame anyone for hiding their powers."

"They do that where you're from?"

"Mhm." Rogers quietly approaches and unties the knot around (Y/N)'s wrist in one smooth motion. "Thank you. It's cyclical, sometimes."

"Can't say it's much different here." (Y/N) yawns again and tries to sit up a little straighter. “You should get some rest.”

She shakes her head and absentmindedly rubs her left wrist. “I’m sure you have more questions.”

“Nothing that can’t wait till tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” He pats her shoulder and heads for the door. “I’ll make sure some food is sent up for you.”

“Thank you, Captain Rogers.”

He nods and disappears into the hallway.

--------

Part 3

Alrighty, so the reader character isn’t dead, huzzah! But now they’re stuck in an alternate reality. Could this prove to be a Bad Thing? Or maybe it’s just a brand new adventure. You’ll have to tune in next time to find out.

As always, I’d love to know what you thought of this chapter! Are you surprised by how careful Steve was with the Body? How do you feel about the Reader character being tied to their hospital bed? Was Steve as intimidating as he thought he was? Be sure to reblog, comment, and/or shoot me an ask and tell me all about it!

Tag List:

@ghostlyhamlet, @claws-of-vibranium, @creaturefeatures101-blog, @imagine-assembling-the-avengers, @buckysendoftheline, @ptprocrastination, @1950schick, @amayasymone23, @arfrona-and-marvel, @ek823, @fanaticfangirl001, @furrywerewolfcollector, @kissofvenom922, @dawn-phantomhive, @fangirlwithasweettooth, @mairhof1, @starryeyesbadguys, @trap-house-homiecide, @buckywhitewolfbarnes, @kaepm981, @howdoesoneadult, @pcdmesamidala, @thefandomplace, @sian22redux. @skeletoresinthebasement, @lady-thor-foster, @feelmyroarrrr, @jazzcutie, @gaytonystark, @hermionie-is-my-queen. @darling-loki, @geeksareunique, @nyxveracity, @lemonadeorange73, @princess-unicorn124, @tofeartheunknown, @queenoftheunderdark, @avengerscompound, @patzammit

This fic:

@brattymum96

#steve rogersxreader #readerxsteve rogers #steve rogers x reader #reader x steve rogers #captain america #steve rogers #steverogersxreader #readerxsteverogers #the other boi #reader insert fanfiction

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